Synopsis: Rex-Splode is probably the most condescending, asinine, person you have ever met. He has made your life nothing but harder. So you quit. The Guardians of the Globe? What a joke. You are surrounded by assholes. Rex-Splode being the biggest of them all. Except, now he keeps trying to call you. And there's a knock at the door.
Tags: enemies to lovers; slowburn so slow it really burns; no use of y/n; yearning; idiots in love; hurt/comfort (a lot xoxo); high tension; hemokenetic!Reader; fluff; plot heavy; eventual smut; fix-it fic; Rex Splode is bad at feelings
Tropes: (specific) he fell first, and he fell harder, gala/dance, one bed, angry/high emotion confessions,
Warnings: extreme depictions of gore/graphic injuries, alcohol use, PTSD-like episodes
Invincible Variants x Female! Reader x Original Invincible │#2
#1, #2, #?
tysm for the comments on the previous post, it was a blast seeing the traction it got !! I hope update is satisfactory, decided to make this a full fic series so more to come
CW: OOC Cecil(?), mention/talks of suicide, violence, slight freakiness but eh not really
Cecil approached the big screens, his hands in his suit pockets as he narrowed his eyes. "Donald, what is this? What going on with now?" He asked, his voice stern but confused. The dots on the map indicate that multiple Invincible variants were gathered at one place—and you were smacked in the middle of it.
He had given orders to throw you out there in hopes to help the war effort, strapping you with an electric dog collar with a tracker embedded into it. With Evil Invincibles causing havoc all over the world, everything was getting stretched thin. He needed more manpower to pour into this war, and he wasn't against using a criminal to achieve that.
Cecil had seen multiple times you hold your own against their Invincible, hell, even had the upper hand a couple of times with how you left Invincible riddled with injuries.
Whatever reason why you chose to injure him than kill him wasn't something Cecil was going to do gymnastics to understand. Donald's running theory was that you more so enjoyed causing destruction than killing anyone. There's been times where you have, but they were so rare it's been assumed to be more of a 'last resort' thing for you when cornered.
Honestly, all of that didn't matter to him, you were still a destructive piece of shit at the end of the day.
But having collected data about you, he was confident that you could at least remove one or two of the evil variants when push came to shove. The 'shove' being a shock collar and the threat of never seeing daylight again.
Though it appears you were surrounded by four variants, and while you were one tough cookie, you should certainly be dead. There was one of you and four of them, it was a no brainer to guess who would lose. However, the blinking green dot on the screen indicated you were alive and well.
"It seems like they're not fighting her. She's been more of the aggressor so far, actually." Donald noted, pushing his glasses up. "She was fighting this one," He pointed at a red dot on the screen, "then these three showed up." His finger drifted to the other circles.
"Pull up the cameras around there." Cecil ordered, and Donald's fingers were quick on the keyboard to pull up the surveillance around the area.
A window appeared on the screen, and while the lens was cracked it was clear to see that you were surprisingly not beaten up and battered as he would expect. He watched you leap into the air, bolting through the sky and an Invincible dressed in a white uniform followed suit, the two of you becoming a blur in the distance.
An Invincible dressed in a similar fashion as Omni-man crossed his arms, speaking to the others. Whatever he said made the others upset, the one with a fully covered black mask shaking his head while the variant with the mohawk rolled his eyes as he stomped his foot.
"Is there no audio on this thing?"
"Nope."
"Great." Cecil popped his lips, his grainy voice filled with sarcasm. He continued to observe the three variants—they obviously didn't like each other, their body language tense and ready to pounce if one of them moved yet held the conversation anyway.
He squinted, trying to decipher what they could be discussing about. The men would occasionally glance over at the direction you had sped off to.
Donald spoke up. "I think they're discussing (Y/N)."
"(Y/N)?"
"(Y/N) (L/N) is Vandal's real name." Donald mentioned, looking over at Cecil. Vandal had become your nickname since you never proclaimed a villain identity for yourself. From the heaps of destruction and damage you caused to property before your capture, it was a fitting name. Albeit a little lazy.
He let out a sigh, turning around to step away. His mind was turning gears as he thought about you, his mind drifting to Mark who was still by Eve's bed side.
What he was thinking of was an... odd idea, but it couldn't hurt to give it a shot. Mark Grayson always held this odd air towards you. It was hard to not notice how he practically jumped at the chance to be the first to respond to a scene that had something to do with you, always butting heads with other superheroes that tried to respond first.
The weird behavior was subtle, but Cecil noted a few things.
Whatever harm that he'd inflicted would conveniently be places where it wouldn't hurt too badly.
You would always somehow end up escaping from his grasp after each fight. Even with how Mark had improved, you always seemed to run off.
When you were finally captured thanks to a G.D.A agent, Mark threw quite a fit.
"I had it all under control!" He yelled, glaring at Cecil with so much anger. Possessiveness seeped into his voice as he spat his words, and Cecil was taken aback with how worked up he was over you. "You guys didn't have to step in like that."
"Talking to her, throwing a couple of punches and letting her escape each time is not you having it 'under control,' Mark." Cecil rebutted. "She needed to be contained, and you were doing a lousy job at doing that."
"I was gonna—"
"If I had let this ridiculous method of yours play out, she would've continued to destroy more property. That means more tax dollars are being poured into rebuilding the constant messes she leaves behind." Cecil lectured, stern and logical. Not giving him a moment to defend himself. "That money is better off spent on better things, not Little Miss Vandalism."
His logic and common sense only seemed to fuel Mark's anger. Cecil paused, before releasing an exhausted sigh as he flickered his gaze away from Mark to stare at a wall.
He needed to calm him down, having him upset would get in the way of calling him for help. Cecil's eyes flickered back to Mark.
"Kid, she'll be in jail at the G.D.A. Fed, clothed, and away from being a menace." He continued, and he noticed how Mark seemed to become calm about you being fed and clothed than the fact your destructive habits would now come to a halt. "You can... even visit her."
"... I can?"
He was a little too happy to hear that, his anger completely evaporated.
"Yeah. After we deal with everything first, I'll authorize how many visits you want."
"I'm going to pay a visit to Mark. I'm sure he'd love to hear what his favorite villain is up to." Cecil turned his head to Donald who only stared, clear he didn't understand what telling Mark about this would achieve.
Without elaborating, he teleported with a flash of blue.
You took another glance behind you, the wind rushing past you. It howled in your ear as you met the intense stare of the evil variant in white. His features were unmoving as the wind pushed his hair and his eyes hard.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" You shouted. His eyes were unblinking as he was unresponsive to your words, and you just rolled your eyes as you tore your eyes off him.
Even though you would love to continue being in the air for longer, if you do it was evident he would catch up to you. With each glance he was inching closer and closer, and there were a number of things that would go against your favor if this White Invincible got ahold of you in the air.
You scanned up ahead, seeing a large building. The path you were on currently would've made you slam your head against a solid wall. Shifting to the right, you brought your arms to your head as you braced for impact.
The glass window immediately shattered as you rammed through it, different sizes of glass shards falling. You dodged the walls of the office floor, breaking through windows and passing by cubicles.
Breaking out of the other side of the building, the sunlight basked on you as you pushed yourself to be above the building. Not a minute later, the building vibrated widely as the sound of walls breaking filled the air.
You let out an amused scoff. He continued the flight path you were previously on and busted through the walls.
The white variant broke through the final wall, leaving a gaping hole on the side of the building. He looked to the left and right of him, searching for a sign in which direction you went.
"Up here!" You sang out, diving down with your hands raised together and joined together to make a ball. You brought it down, sending him flying downwards to the road. The Invincible's reflex was incredible, his arms quickly rising to protect his head before being slammed to the ground.
The harsh impact made a big crater on the ground, with him in the middle. The abandoned cars near the crash site began blaring, the headlights flashing crazy.
"You're strong." He flatly commented, his eyes gazing up at you as the dust settled. With Mohawk, his laugh lines were prominent and bold. Yet with this variant, his face was completely smooth with no form of wrinkles in sight.
His arms tingled from your attack, and he tilted his head. A corner of his lip raised slightly. "You were never strong in my dimension."
"Does that burst your bubble, Whitey?" You fake whined, copying the tilt of his head as you stared down at him. "Disappointed I'm not a damsel in distress? Not the perfect little girlfriend for you?"
"I'm not disappointed." He shook his head. "You were always perfect, (Y/N). Perfect for me and I made Viltrum perfect for you. You're still perfect, no matter the differences across universes." He replied, hovering towards you. There was a deep-rooted longing in his eyes.
You gritted your teeth as you heard his monologue. You hated how he was speaking to you as if you were the version he knew personally. It was already becoming insufferable.
"I've missed you, my wife. The spot I carved out for you remains empty since the day I lost you." He whispered, looking like a battered dog lost without its owner. "You miss me too."
"Is that a question or a command?" You rolled your eyes. "I'm not her. Do you hear yourself?"
"You are her."
"I'm not. And I'm going to put that through that thick skull of yours." You didn't hesitate to dash towards him, your hand grabbing a hold of the top of his head as you slammed it down—the back of his head hitting the cracked concrete of the crater.
You dug your nails inside his scalp, lifting it and smashing it back down repeatedly. The hole inside the ground deepened as you continued.
Viltrumite Mark let his head be slammed against the pavement, your fingernails digging inside his scalp. The dulling pain at the back of his head ached at him, but he didn’t care. How long has it been since he last felt your touch? How long has it been since you committed suicide? How many long nights did he go without you?
It’s been so long since he felt your fingers through his hair. The throbbing pain didn’t mean anything with the sensation of your hand holding him. It was always blissful when he would come back to you after having to deal with the responsibilities of the Viltrum Empire, welcoming him home with open arms.
Oh, how he loved laying his head on your stomach while you massaged his head—running your delicate fingers through his hair as you asked all sorts of questions. Usually about what he did, Viltrum, and what was happening outside the walls of the home you two shared. Mark didn’t like to think about the outside world when he was inside the haven of the bedroom, but indulging in your curiosity was always cute and made you happy.
You were also eager, albeit more than he liked, to learn any updates about Earth. Even if it was something minor, you always liked hearing about the planet you once lived on. Sometimes you'd ask if you could "finally go out" and be somewhere else on Viltrum beside the house, even hinting the idea to go visit Earth—but Mark always shot it down.
He guessed he understood in some capacity why you would ask that, it was natural for any species to think about home and long to go back to it. Though, that doesn't mean Mark didn't find it ridiculous—you shouldn't want to go back to Earth even for a visit. Viltrum is your home now and a much better suited place for you because he was here.
Mark would've granted permission for you to walk around Viltrum alone, but when you had first arrived at this planet you had such antsy feet. You would go run off, trying to escape from the planet and it was always a hassle to bring you back. You could've gotten into danger and if he hadn't been alerted each time you ran off and arrived at the nick of time. You could've hurt yourself.
You cried, you begged, and you pleaded whenever you were caught. It hurt to see you like that, he couldn't bare for those situations to happen anymore so he had momentarily removed those privileges.
He was going to give them back, he swore he would've at one point. However, he hadn't noticed so much time had passed.
For him, it seemed so short—while for you it had been excruciating years. You couldn't take it anymore; Mark's monopolization was suffocating.
So, one day when Mark arrived back home after a mission, your lifeless boy awaited him. Pale, empty, and unresponsive—but free.
For what happened, Viltrum Mark will let you hurt him as punishment for being such a neglectful husband. Being pummeled was what he deserved for being forgetful.
You go of your hold of the white variant's head, snatching a hold of his arm and standing up. You lifted him off the ground only using the arm you had just grabbed, throwing him at the loud line of cars. During the process you had twisted his arm, causing him to wince as he felt his bone dislocate before he collided with the line of blaring vehicles.
The obnoxious honks stopped, and you huffed as you straightened your back. You sneered in disgust as you realized a small smear of blood that made its way to your fingertips, being quick to wipe it on your clothes.
However, in the blink of an eye, a white flash appeared before you. Arms wrapped around your torso, and you were shoved into a wall.
As soon as your back hit the wall, you grunted, the wind being knocked out of you. You felt the Invincible nestle his face to your stomach, his arms tightening around you and you shrieked.
Even though there was a clothing barrier between your bare skin and his face thanks to the prison uniform the G.D.A had you worn, it was thin. This act was clearly intimate, and you flushed in anger as he was taking an opportunity to feel you?
“Get off of me you bastard!” You demanded, using your elbow to dig inside his back, striking down rapidly.
His grip loosened with each hit but would recover, returned to holding you. With how hard you were hitting, it was a guarantee there would be multiple splotches of bruises stretched along his back, the muscles soon to have developing colors of purple.
You repositioned your elbow that was nearest to his twisted shoulder, slamming it. A grunt howled from the variant’s throat, his arms untangling from your waist. He fell to the ground, on his knees as he hurriedly grabbed his shoulder—popping the dislocated shoulder back in place.
He picked himself up, swiping at your shin. Caught off guard, you wobbled and the viltrumite didn't waste time to place your leg on his shoulder—the one that he had corrected the displacement of the bone—and leaned forward to you.
Being off balanced and your leg being pushed up with your back against the cracked wall, you slid down. His height towered over you as you were in a compromising position. You cursed, your hands reaching behind you to grip the wall.
"That was enough to atone for my neglectful mind. Your death alone already served as punishment for how blind I was towards time." He spoke, staring down at you. A small line of blood traveled from his scalp to the back of his neck. "I'll be a much better husband for you, I swear to it, (Y/N)." the Invincible breathed out, turning his head to your leg that was lifted to his shoulder.
Even though his voice was monotonous, there was a scratch of pleading behind his voice. He said it in hopes you'll believe it and in turn that he himself would believe he'll actually be better towards you.
It wasn't hard to piece together that whatever happened to his version of you, you had died, and he played a role in it.
He exhaled; his lips parted slightly as they were just centimeters away from your leg.
“You can’t be a better one if she’s dead.”
“Don’t say that.” He snapped, pushing your leg further up, making you suck in a breath. “You’re right here. Even if you don’t remember me that doesn't mean you can't be my wife once again.“ The grip he had on your raised leg was firm, and his hand snaked up to your knee.
His hand squeezed, feeling the muscles and bone. "I'll take you back home. Back to Viltrum. Back with me."
Your breath hitched, the mention of being taken to another place caused goosebumps to crawl all over your skin. The fully masked Invincible had mentioned something about bringing you 'home’ as well, and now this one mentioned taking you somewhere else too.
Something nagged at you that this would be a pattern among the other copies—and your survival instincts screamed at you to not let any of them take you. You were better off dead than with any of them.
"I will rather die like her than ever go anywhere with you." You spat; venom laced with each word. "Whatever way she went was probably a blessing in disguise." You smirked, watching how his eyes dulled at your taunt.
Clenching your jaw, you wheeled your head forward and then slammed it behind you. The building shook behind you, cracks branching out from the point of origin. You used the back of your head to hit it once more, pooling all your strength together.
The thick wall crumbled, and no longer being shoved against a wall you wrapped the leg that was on his shoulder around his neck and your other leg around his torso, seizing his whole body and throwing him over you.
The viltrumite burst through the multitude of walls, making the building unstable. Sounds of the building cracking and falling apart filled the air, the structure collapsing. You scrambled to run, the building collapsing in your direction. Though your foot slipped on a piece of debris, causing you to trip onto the ground.
Whoosh!
The office building collapsed, and you blinked. You were looking down at the collapsed structure that once stood tall now closer to the ground than ever.
Your legs dangled in the air, and your eyes traveled to your chest as there was an arm was slung underneath your breasts—holding you loosely.
"Ha! Now that was a funny sight to watch. You really got some sweet upgrades to you—fun." He commented, pointing out the superhuman strength you possessed, a dangerous edge embedded with his words. You whipped your head around, an Invincible with a black and yellow suit grinned wildly at you.
Sinister Mark looked deeply in your eyes as he used his exceptional hearing to focus on your heart. He had memorized the way your heartbeat, pumping blood through your system. It was a window for him to decipher how you really felt at any given moment, and listening to the beating organ was like music to his ears.
He hated how he missed it. He hated how he immediately recognized it from a miles away. He hated how his ears subconsciously trained itself to zone in on that beautiful beating heart of yours, your heart so distinct that it was a melody that drew him out.
He hated that he came as quickly as he can at the first beat, knowing that it was you. This dimension's version of you, anyway.
"Another one?" You snarled, not happy to see another variant.
This dimension's version of you was feisty, just like his—though more powerful considering you did some damage to Viltrum Mark having watched from afar. Though he didn't pay much attention to that guy, more swooped up on the fact he was on cloud nine with how he was able to hold you like this again.
He let out a deranged laugh, throwing his head back. "Ha! Ha-ha! I forgot how much better you felt with your flesh still intact." He laughed, rearing his head back to shove his face to your cheek. "Soft, squishy—so much more different compared to your skeleton."
... Skeleton?
"Jesus, I went insane after I killed you." He took a large exhale, the memories of the temper tantrum he made after accidentally going too rough on you, breaking you, resurfacing.
Everyone and everything weren’t safe from his rampage, the rampage fueled with the rage of killing you. "I kept your body, watched the stages of your corpse bloat then decay—leaving the dry remains of your skeleton behind." He spoke of it with a smile on his face, but you felt the hand that was wrapped around you flinch, tightening.
"It wasn't as fun when you were alive, but it was still you, so I made do." He vaguely referenced, and your skin crawled at what he could possibly be implying. All sort of things popped in your head, and whatever you brain conjured may have been tamer than whatever this... thing did to his alternate version of you—dead or alive.
"I don’t have to know more to know you're a sick fuck."
"And I made you like it." He hissed, his hot breath hitting your skin. He tilted his head away, his eyes wandering to the electric collar around your neck. Cecil throwing you in this war and forcing you to work for him meant you were tough, and Mark was excited to see how exactly tough you were. "And I can do it again. Just this time, you won't be so easy to break.”
Cecil sighed as his eyes fell upon Mark Grayson still near Eve's bedside, having not moved an inch since the last time he saw him. Both of his hands were cupped onto Eve's hand that lay motionless on the bed.
"What do you want, Cecil?" His tired voice called out, not having to turn around to know that the old man was behind him. "I told you I wasn't working with you ever again."
"I heard that loud and clear, Mark." Cecil continued, "I figured you weren't against updates, though."
The young man merely stayed silent, his whole body language screaming that he didn't want to hear him speak anymore. Cecil grimaced, biting the inside of his cheek. The idea he had seemed like it wasn't going to work, only made up with a few clues then and there, but he was already here so it would be a waste to not try it.
"There's a lot happening out there. It's difficult to keep up with everything."
Mark stayed silent, unresponsive as his eyes were staring only at Eve.
Cecil carried on, "I had to come up with creative solutions to the issues of not having resources, people, superheroes to go out there and protect the world."
Mark stayed unmoving, not reacting an inch.
"Do you remember the criminal you helped capture? Vandal? —"
"It's (Y/N)." Grayson jolted, turning to look at Cecil with stern eyes. His hands were still on Eve's, though he noted the small pull away. "Her name is (Y/N)."
"That's interesting, I didn't find out until today that was their actual name." The older man was quick to point out, raising a brow. "How did you know that? Didn't care to share with the rest of us?"
Mark hesitated, his eyes flickering away from Cecil. "She told me it the first time we fought. Must've slipped my mind." He vaguely dismissed, clearing his throat.
He had accidentally crossed your path when he first started out his journey as Invincible. He was still getting a hang on things, training to be a great hero just like his dad.
It took him a little bit too long to register that you were a villain—a criminal that he should've jumped to stop as soon as his eyes laid on the path of destruction you caused without a care of who you hurt.
Then it took him even longer to move from his spot with how strangely enamored he was with you. Mark was overcome by this rush of attraction that he had subconsciously held his breath. If it weren't for his viltrumite make up, he would've passed out with how much oxygen he deprived from his lungs.
Did villains usually have this effect on heroes? Fascinated, interested, curious, enamored? (Mark later found out that no, villains did not have this effect—for whatever reason, it was only you).
Once he finally snapped out of it, he was quick to try and stop you. Though with how inexperienced he was with fighting and your brawniness, you won. Beaten to a pulp, his body was sore and tired as he laid on the ground, groaning from the punches.
"Ah—shit." A whine escaped his throat. Was being a superhero going to be this painful?
You crouched down to his level, eyeing his costume that hugged his body. "It isn't a good idea to jump at a girl wrecking the place while being a baby super." You commented, your eyes filled with pity. You didn't take amusement in practically beating up an infant. "Downright idiotic."
"Idiotic and invincible shares the same starting letter," he coughed, shifting to look at you but a sharp pain jolted up his spine. "Ah, that hurts—so I guess they go hand in hand." He let out a nervous smile, giddiness budding at the pit of his stomach as he wiped off the blood that had dried out his upper lip.
It's wrong to feel so... so excitedly nervous about how close you were. Sure okay, you got close so you could punch and throw him around while you two fought—but right now Mark had the time to take you in fully.
You snorted, a giggle jumping out your lips. You weren't expecting him to crack a joke like that while he was beaten to a pulp and wow—that giggle of yours was beautiful. That made his heart dance and his stomach sick with how many butterflies there were.
You quickly covered your laughter, rubbing a hand over your mouth. "Invincible is a stupid name."
"What's yours? We can compare."
"… I earned the name Vandal, it's a stupid name too." You shrugged, pushing yourself to stand.
He tried to sit up, though shots of pain riddled him to fall. He didn't want you to leave so quickly—not out of fear you would go back to destroying stuff but out of fear he may not ever see you again.
"Is there another name I can call you? I-I mean, I would like the villain who beat me up to at least like their name." Mark stuttered out, a strained smile on his face.
You eyed him, raising a brow. Unimpressed at his lame reasoning. "What kind of reason is that?"
"Uh, I—well you know, erm—" His cheeks flushed a baby pink.
You sighed, finding yourself pitying the new hero. "Fine." You’ll humor this. Giving you his name wouldn't hurt, besides even if he told others, it wasn't enough to track you down. “It’s (Y/N).”
"Hm. Okay. Moving on." Cecil hummed, not convinced. “I had her be taken out of her cell. She's out on the field."
Now that got a response out of Mark. He let go of Eve's hand, his body moving in the blink of an eye as he appeared in front of Cecil. It caught the older man by surprise, taking a hurried step back.
“What do you mean out in the field? She shouldn’t be out there. She’s supposed to be in a prison cell. She’s supposed to be safe. I remember you saying that she will be!”
“That was after this shitshow started. Prior arrangements had to be moved around and changed.” He defended himself, narrowing his eyes at how quick he was to anger when you were handled in a manner he disagreed with. This pattern of possessiveness he had over a criminal was wrong.
Cecil had chosen to ignore this, chalking it up to some petty rivalry over the fact you had beaten him a couple of times—but now it was clear as day that it was definitely way more than that.
Just how much more was what Cecil was curious about. He needed to see exactly what you meant to him and if he could use that for his own gain. “If she can handle fighting against you, then hell, she can certainly handle herself against one of those variants. I needed all the manpower I can get, and she was the perfect option.”
“That still gave you no right!” He screamed.
“It does when the guy who can go head to toe with those invaders out there won’t leave this goddamn room.” Cecil retorted.
“So—So what?! She can die, Cecil.” He huffed, his fists clenching at the idea you were out there in harm’s way.
“Why does that matter so much to you, Mark? What exactly is she to you for you to be worked over this? I don’t have to omnipotent to know she doesn’t give a damn about you—not a single thought. Yet you’re here caring for her as if you’re her friend.” He paused, “Are you?”
Mark hitched breath, a lump in his throat as he brought his hands to hold onto his face.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you, and he knew that he shouldn’t be thinking about you as much as he should, but he couldn’t stop. His mind always wandered. Day and night without fail at some point his thoughts would be consumed by you, someone he barely knew anything about—someone that he shouldn’t be thinking of.
Mark tried to stay away from you—at least that’s what he told himself to make him feel better. He always jumped at the chance to go to you whenever you were back on your rampaging antics. Other heroes noticed, offering to take his place instead but he sternly refused.
He was territorial about being the one to stop you, being the one to fight you, being the one to be with you.
Mark told himself that he thought about you so frequently because of that pitiful ‘kindness’ you showed him at your guys’ first encounter. From that, you must be much better being a reformed criminal than a villain who took pleasure in seeing destruction.
So, he tried to convince you to change your ways.
That’s what a superhero does, right? Not just help distressed citizens but everyone, even villains. He offered to help you lead a better life than the one you are right now, guide you how to use your powers for good rather than bad.
He also offered you companionship, friendship—a chance to have a deeper relationship than the close to nothing relationship you two currently had.
Though he was hurt every time you rejected him. Not hurt from the fact you rejected turning a new leaf but hurt that you rejected his friendship. Fine, you turned down being a good guy, but why turn him down?
Couldn’t you see that Mark ran to you each time? Couldn’t you see that he had got stronger, faster, better, each time you fought just to impress you? Couldn’t you see that he craved to know you more, the girl who he knew nothing about yet haunts him every day?
The bruises that you left on his body were the only thing you gave him that held a part of you—and he would stare at them in the mirror as he traced over them remembering the fists he came to memorize.
The bruises were the only thing you didn’t reject to give, and he hoped they never faded so he can carry the ghost of your touch on his body.
Mark Grayson tried to drop it—drop you. He was driving himself crazy over a stranger that wanted nothing to do with him. He tried tearing himself away from the idea of you, but he came back running whenever he heard you were out there.
Cecil voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Well, Mark, are you?”
“No, we’re not friends.” He responded, his torn voice muffled by his hands.
“Then what is it? What is it ‘cause with how I’m seeing things no one should be caring about a stranger as much as much as you are right now.” Cecil bombarded, continuing to pile more questions on him relentlessly, pushing the boy’s buttons.
The half-viltrumite ran his hands to his hair, his fingers intertwining with his black locks as he let out an exhausted groan.
“Mark, say something. Say something Mark. For the love of God, fucking say something—”
“No! No, I don’t know her at all, I don’t mean anything to her! I’m not her friend. I’m nothing.” He snapped, his voice raised and shouting, his mouth running wild. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want her safe! That doesn’t mean I don’t care about her! That doesn’t mean I don’t want her.”
A tense silence fell on the room, the only sound was of the machines next to Eve’s bed.
“So that’s it. Your whipped for (Y/N).” Cecil finally broke the silence, scoffing in disbelief at what he had just discovered. “What twisted fascination do you have with her? A villain who never gave you the light of day, yet you hold this …” His face contorted, looking away from Mark. “I don’t even know what to call this. Sick? Twisted? Pathetic?”
“… Shut up. Just shut up.”
“Can’t do that because I’m not done talking.” He side eyed, “Your little crush is being jumped by multiple variants. Last I checked she ran, but got a suspicion it won’t be easy for her to get rid of them.”
Cecil felt himself slammed to the wall, the white collar of his shirt being tightly gripped. “What? Why didn’t you lead with that!”
“Sorry, kid, didn’t expect your type to be bad girls.” He grunted, staring into Mark’s brown eyes.
“Just tell me where she is.”
“Thinking of joining the fight now? Don’t want to stay here by Eve anymore? All I had to do was dangle something you can never have in front of your face to finally leave this room?”
Mark raised a fist and hit the wall behind the man he had pinned. “Tell me where (Y/N) is.”
Cecil dug his hand into his suit pocket, pushing an earpiece to his chest which Mark quickly caught. “Plug that in and Donald will tell you.” He stated. The grip Mark had on his collar loosened, pushing him aside as he went to grab his mask from the end of the bed.
As always, he comes running when he hears you’re out there.
"I am having a blast," This sinister version of Invincible smirked, his breathing heavy as he had you pinned to the ground. You made him work up quite a sweat, and he was getting quite thirsty. "You're so new, so fun, so entertaining, so enticing. I'm working up an appetite."
It felt like it has been ages since you were stuck fighting for your life against this man, but it has been only a couple of minutes.
Your face distorted in disgust. A hand of his was holding your two legs together so that you couldn't kick him away even though you were desperately trying to squirm your legs away from his tight grasp.
"Eat shit." You cursed, collecting the saliva that accumulated in your mouth and spitting it to his face—the wad of spit hitting the corner of his lips.
His smile faltered, before grinning again as he cooed at you. "That bitch of a mouth of yours needs work, though." Sinister Invincible parted his lips, his tongue licking the side of his face, collecting the saliva you had thrown at him and swallowing.
"You gross sick fu—hhmp!" You quickly got muffled as he had snaked his gloved fingers inside your mouth with his free hand, the taste of rubber filling your taste buds as you thrashed under his hold. You used your hands to scratch and slap his face, though that seemed to only entertain him further.
His fingers moved to feel your teeth, your tongue that tried to escape the taste of his gloves, and the soft as well as hard palate. You yelled muffled profanities, biting down on his fingers.
Your canine fangs broke through the rubber material of the glove, and he let out a small—was that fucking moan?—sound as that only served to give him more reason to push his fingers deeper down your mouth, his fingertips scooting to the entrance of your throat.
"Bite harder, cunt." He demanded, and you instinctively listened.
Your teeth pressed down on his skin, the bite breaking it as a metallic taste seeped into your taste buds joining the taste of the rubber gloves.
"Ouggh my god." Sinister Mark moaned; the pain brought by your fangs serving to be pleasurable. That hand he used to hold down your legs he shifted over to one, squeezing hard against the muscles and into the bone.
Crack!
"HHMP!" Your scream muffled into his glove, and you gagged soon after from his fingers hitting the back of your throat. The scratch and hits to his head were doing nothing to him, and you grimaced as your eyes darted around to find any way to get out of this.
You noticed how your broken leg wasn't immediately healing, like how it should be, and your eyes widen as you remembered the collar the G.D.A had placed around your neck. You had forgotten about it, and you closed your eyes as you knew what to do.
Your hands reached eagerly to the shock collar, digging your fingers between the metal and your neck as you began to tear away at it. It instantly began sending electricity through your body, riddling your body to the seizing and overwhelming pain that resembled the same sensation when you were hit with that gun. Your eyes opened, rolling to the back of your skull from the intensity.
You clenched your jaw as you continued to rip it from your neck, trying to keep your eyes open and not lose consciousness as the metal began to rip apart—the wires being revealed.
Whatever was sending the electricity was no longer contained to just your body, zapping in the air and reaching to the black and yellow Invincible that was on top of you.
The electrifying pain met him too, and he yanked his digits out of your mouth as the bolts traveled up to his entire body. You felt his weight lift off as you ripped the collar in two, gasping for air and rolling to your side.
Your body twitched as there was still electricity coursing through your body—and you felt an intense wave of exhaustion flood you.
No, I can't pass out, I need to get out of here. No, no—
You tried to resist, though black spots were already filling your vision as shapes and colors became a blur. Even then, you tried to crawl to distance yourself from the Invincible, but a sudden tight grip to your hair pulled you toward his direction.
"You disobedient bitch. Who told you to do that?" You heard a growl, the pull of your hair making you whine.
Your hair was suddenly released, feeling a strong gust of wind behind you as Sinister’s Mark voice off to the distance. You didn’t care to look back, trying to squint to see what was ahead of you.
Although your vision became increasingly blurry and you gagged from having his hand shoved down your throat a few seconds ago. You tried to sit up but failed, you head feeling heavy as it hit the ground.
You internally screamed to stay awake, but darkness hugged you. Before that however, you felt someone crouch next to you, a hand draped over your forehead as they said something to you. Whatever they said, you couldn’t tell, and you just prayed they were more of a friend than a foe another crazy Invincible.
sorry if this was boring, wanted to focus on Mainstream Mark in this one :P !!
Am I cray cray to think Sinister Mark loves dishing out and receiving pain
UMM anyway, we ignore how you can tell I’m new to writing action scenes tyyy 🫣🙈 oh also the plot holes shh
request: “Hello! Sorry if this request is really long ;-; okay so hobie and the reader are new recruits to the spider society and are partnered together at first was difficult to get along but as time goes on and they get the whole partner thing down an obvious attraction between the two, but no action was made until one difficult fight against an anomaly. While fighting pieces of a broken building had fallen on the reader, leaving them stuck while hobie went over to try and get them free but was struck by anomaly and the reader hated seeing hobie get hurt used all their strength got out from under the rubble and took care of the anomaly and realized that they could no longer stand idly by without telling hobie the truth. I’m sorry about the length and thank you if you chose to write it 🫡🙏 love your work !!”
requested by: anon
word count: 2.7k
genre: angst(ish), fluff
Warnings: language, stab wound, broken ribs, panicked Hobie, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, stitches, mentions of needles
A/N: ok so i got a little carried away with this one LMAO and NEVER apologize for a request being long! I appreciate all the requests i get no matter how short or long they are 🖤 please enjoy!
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Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.
And unfortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.
warnings: language, insults, mentions of everything that happened in the story, almost fainting, soft hobie, big fluff energy, essentially just a fun lil chapter above everything else to wash away the angst
a/n: AND IT’S OVER!! i’m actually crying a bit this was so fun to write. it will not be the end! you can all bet your asses i’ll be working on a sequel for this duo. thank you to everyone who supported the story and my writing. you made the return back to this blog unforgettable and i am so grateful for all of you 🖤 please enjoy the last chapter of ‘the clash’
Not proofread. I was supposed to be editing text for a class, but I suddenly had to write this chapter or I wouldn't be able to sleep. It is almost midnight.
Also, I'd like to remind everyone that I have not played the games, so I know none of this is accurate to the events, and I'm sure a lot of the things I write about are happening out of order, but don't worry about it. Think of it as an AU, or as, ya know, a story that was written just for fun because I love these silly little guys too much
I'm almost out of space on my masterlist for links so I might move some fics from the First BG3 Masterlist to the Second just to keep this story all in one place. But we'll worry about that when we get there in a couple chapters
Warnings: references to kidnapping, references to emotional abuse/manipulation, alcohol consumption, references to slavery
Word Count: 1,639
Main Masterlist
First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form
Young tieflings ran around, playing games with each other and causing mischief. You couldn’t stop watching the way they teased and laughed and got along so well. When one tripped and fell, the rest were there to help them up, holding hands as they continued running around. After so much darkness and death and fear, to see so much energy and unbridled joy overwhelmed your heart.
A frown slid onto your face as you tried to think back to your childhood. Had you run around with the same reckless abandon? Had you tripped and been helped to your feet again? Had you teased and laughed and had not a care in the world, once? All you had were tiny fragments. A familiar wall here, the impression of a fence there. Silhouettes without faces; with no defining features at all. Years of your life, missing.
You could remember the night you were stolen away. The feeling of being lost, and a beady pair of red eyes staring hungrily at you with a smile that stretched too wide. The gravely promise of helping you find your home.
You shivered and hugged yourself close, shaking your head to jostle the memories from your mind. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. You won this battle - that’s what mattered.
Astarion sat down beside you on the log, a bottle of wine in hand. The light of the campfire danced across his features in a way quite familiar to you by now, and yet you couldn’t help tracing the shadows that defined his cheekbones and eyes. He smirked at you. “Something on your mind, darling?”
You sigh. “Too much, I think.” You turn back to the kids. Halsin had somehow calmed them down enough to demonstrate whittling a duck. They were completely enraptured, with wide eyes and pleas to teach them how to do it, too. “We’ve been on the road for weeks trying to do the seemingly impossible, I just forgot what was at stake. Not just our own lives, but theirs, too. Everyone’s.”
“Hm, and you’re going to carry it all on your shoulders.” He holds a goblet in front of you, urging you to take it. Red liquid settles inside, a deep, dark crimson. “You need to relax, love.”
You chuckle. “I don’t really know how,” you admit. You carefully take a small sip. Your face scrunches up immediately.
He laughs, taking the goblet back from you and finding absolutely no resistance. He swirls it around. “Well, in my experience, it’s very difficult without a good vintage and not just vinegar in a fancy bottle. Fortunately for us, my dear, I happen to have saved a bottle from one of our many expeditions. And,” he leans in conspiratorially, “I may even be convinced to share.”
“Oh really?” You tilt your head, squinting your eyes like you didn’t trust him, but the grin dancing on your lips gave the ruse away. “What’s the catch?”
You think he likes when you joke with him like this. It’s so difficult to get a chance with so much on your mind, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes almost one-to-one with the spark in the tiefling children’s eyes. “No catch,” he promises, “just your company. Away from all this.” He sighs, scowling as he leans back. “I can’t say I enjoy being looked at like some hero.”
You scoff. “You are a hero.”
“You’re the hero,” he insists. “Don’t go lumping me in with every goody-two-shoes that’s gotten stabbed in the back for being too nice.”
“Hm. And would you be the one doing the backstabbing?”
His scowl softens. His eyes do, too. There’s something warm there. You can’t name what it is - it’s completely foreign to anything you remember - but you feel… safe in his gaze. Protected. “You can consider your back perfectly safe, as long as I’m around. Cross my, erm.” He clears his throat. “Now, will I be enjoying the night alone?”
You look around. Some of the kids are cutting away at wooden lumps, with gentle guidance and supervision from Halsin. Wyll and Karlach are talking with cheeks as flushed as their skin tones allowed. Shadowheart is enjoying some wine and Lae’zel is nearby, but though they glare there’s no threats. At least, not any that will be taken out tonight. Gale has contented himself with cooking a large meal to feed all the hungry mouths that abound, reading a book with every spare second he has. Everyone is happy, everything is peaceful. Why shouldn’t you slip away?
“Where did you have in mind?”
He smirks and stands up, dumping the nasty wine from the goblet into a bush before he offers you a hand. His touch lingers longer than you think it will. You even wonder if he was going to gently tug you along with him, but he lets go. He slips into his tent briefly and emerges with another bottle and another glass. The vinegar-wine has disappeared, perhaps for him to drink later despite his complaints. With a smile and a nod to the treeline, he leads you into the woods. The sounds of the party fade away behind you.
-
The moon is huge in the sky, full and bright. There is no need for candles when her light chases away the darkness in a cool, blue glow. In a clearing in the forest, you’ve settled down on the ground, cushioned only by soft grass. The bottle was almost empty by now. You don’t know how many glasses you drank, but you felt full and warm. Content. At peace. You didn’t feel the need to jump at every shadow, nor did you have any fear in your mind for what could linger in them.
You laid back on the ground and stared up at the brilliant sky overhead. Astarion lay beside you, wondering if he would have ended up here if he’d ignored your past, ignored your kindness, and tried manipulating you as well.
“Thank you,” you say out of nowhere. You flush at how loud it was, but he just smiled. “For this, I mean.”
He hummed, turning his head to look at you fully. “I never even considered… Was this your first time drinking?”
You giggled and turned to look at him, too. “Was it obvious?”
“Not at all,” he huffed. He had that soft look in his eyes again. It seems to have spread to his smile, as well. “You do make for a very lovely drunk.”
You roll your eyes, looking back up at the stars. “I’m not drunk. Just a bit…”
“Tispy?”
“Mhm.”
He traces your profile, studies the way the moon highlights your features so masterfully. It’s almost as if your years of servitude had disappeared. All inklings of battle and torture were gone. All that remained was you, him, the moon and the stars, and the grass beneath you both.
You roll onto your side, cushioning your head with an arm as you look at him. “What’re you looking at?”
He chuckles softly. “I thought that much was obvious, dear.” He rolls over as well, mirroring you. Like this, the moon catches your face differently. It’s no less beautiful.
You huff. “What are you thinking about then?”
Oh, so much. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d simply laid with someone without sex being involved, but part of his mind was quite occupied trying to be sure. Other worries for the future, about Cazador and Kir Parthene, came and went, as they always did, leaving a residue of their passing like a thick sludge trailed behind them. More of these thoughts worried about you. About your freedom. About what would happen to you after all this. The thoughts that dominated his mind tonight, though, were far simpler, and far sweeter.
He reaches out to trace a finger along your cheek. Your skin is warm, as it usually is, but the flush in your cheeks from the wine makes you feel even warmer. He can see your mind fighting instinct as it tries to decipher what to do. But then you’re leaning into his touch, welcoming him to continue. He cradles your cheek in his palm.
“I think you look beautiful in the moonlight,” he admits. His voice is merely a whisper. “And I think, if you weren’t drunk right now, I’d liked to have kissed you.”
You laugh softly, out of shock more than anything. A compliment that wasn’t followed by something cruel, that wasn’t intended to act as a bandage, combined with the genuine care in his words. The only kisses you’d received in these years had been along your body, across your shoulders and on your neck, but they were never real. They were all for your master, a reminder that you belonged to her. This was not that. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes.
“I think I would have let you.”
He smiles and strokes a thumb below your eye, brushing away a tear before it ever has the chance to fall. “Well, we have plenty of time ahead of us.” He trails his hand from your cheek down your arm until he’s holding your hand. He brings it to his lips, and presses light kisses to your knuckles. “One day soon, perhaps.”
You wipe at your other eye. “I’d like that.”
Once he’s kissed each knuckle, you pull your hand from his and wrap it around his waist, pulling yourself to cuddle against him. He easily welcomes you, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you even closer. You press your face into his chest. He pets your hair in long, even motions. As you revel in the safety of his arms and the moonlight, and as he indulges in your body heat, you both eagerly await what the future will bring.
FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 25
Warning Level (1-10): 6
For once, you're happy to go to your classes. They'll hopefully help get your mind off of all of your problems. And, even better, today you get to continue Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Towards the end of your second class, your excitement keeps you from focusing on the assignment. Once it is time for lunch, you gobble down your food and hurry the twins to do the same, and then the three of you head up to the Room of Requirement.
You're a little disappointed when Harry begins with the basics. Though it seems simple, Harry insists that the disarming spell, "expelliarmus", could mean the difference between life and death. He has Ron help him demonstrate the spell. They point their wands at each other, Harry speaks the magic word, and Ron's wand goes soaring across the room.
"Alright then..." Harry says, turning back to the crowd. "Let's split up into pairs. Everyone, find a partner."
Almost immediately, Fred and George latch onto each of your arms.
"Y/n is my partner!" George announces to the world, pulling you closer to himself.
Fred tugs you the other way. "No, she's mine," he chortles, as if George was joking.
"Ladies, please," you say, wrenching yourself free of the twins' hands. "Control yourselves!"
George chuckles sheepishly, running a hand through his thick, red hair. Fred merely shrugs with a shameless grin.
"Are you guys having any trouble?" It's Harry. He's been walking around, checking on his new pupils.
"Yeah," replies Fred. "Trouble picking partners."
"Oh. Well, uh..." Harry searches the room. "It looks like everyone else is paired up. I suppose I can be someone's partner... George?"
George's shoulders slump forward, and he looks at you like a sad puppy. "Yeah, alright. Lead the way, Professor Potter." You hear Harry laugh as you follow Fred over to a vacant corner of the room where you both can spar, and it makes you smile. Harry hardly ever laughs anymore.
"Alright, let's do this!" Fred exclaims, obviously happy that he got you as his partner. He points his wand at you, standing with his right foot forward, and holds his left hand out behind him.
You laugh. "We're not fencing, you know."
Fred's enthusiasm dies down for a brief moment, his stance weakening. "Well, I—"
"Expelliarmus!" you shout, and Fred is left empty handed.
Fred's mouth hangs open in shock. "Y/n...!"
You shrug your shoulders and flutter your eyelashes at him innocently. "I'm only playing the game!"
The surprise on Fred's face turns into a dangerously sly expression that makes your face redden. "I see," he says. He doesn't move to fetch his wand, but starts slowly toward you instead. "If that's how you want play it..." You walk backwards, giggling giddily and wondering what he plans to do as he draws closer. When you think you've reached the wall and don't run into hard stone, you look back to find that an open doorway has magically formed behind you. You gasp in alarm while Fred grins crookedly, totally unfazed. It seems that the Room of Requirement has created a small hiding spot for just the two of you. You silently thank the Room as Fred finishes, "Then you won't mind if I cheat a little bit."
Fred corners you into the little stone cubicle with a rather fervent, perfectly intoxicating kiss. His big, warm hands cup the sides of your face gently, yet purposefully. You absolutely bask in the moment, closing your eyes and once again letting your head spin because of that delightful honey-redwood scent. You feel Fred's hands slide from your face and down your arms. It isn't until your wand slips out of your grasp that you realize what Fred is doing, and your eyes snap open.
Fred backs away and holds up your wand with a triumphant smile. "Expelliarmus," he sniggers.
You laugh out loud, but quickly stop yourself in case the Room of Requirement didn't make the walls sound-proof. "I'm not even angry," you snort, taking your wand back and tossing it aside (a soft pillow conveniently appears to catch it before it hits the floor). Fred's eyebrows rise in surprise when you grab his loosely knotted Gryffindor tie and tug on it teasingly. "But I might be soon if you don't come back here."
The tops of Fred's ears turn red and he clears his throat, grinning flusteredly. "Yes, ma'am!" he chuckles and obediently proceeds to kiss you again, swiftly picking up an intense level of energy that sends your heart pounding as you do your best to match it.
But Fred's exceeding height makes it difficult for you two to reach each other. Fred has to bend down quite a bit; you want to wrap your arms around his neck, but can't entirely even when you're standing on the tips of your toes.
"You... are... too... tall!" you giggle in between kisses.
Fred lets out a low grumble that communicates something in between agreement and impatience.
Then, to your surprise, Fred clamps his large hands around your waist and lifts, carrying you like a pot of water a couple paces before sitting you down on a sort of stone bench (that wasn't there before) which protrudes from the wall about four and a half feet above the ground.
You're delighted to discover that you are now sitting at precisely Fred's height. He appears satisfied as well, smiling that handsome, crooked grin before diving for your lips once again.
Fred kisses you passionately, fiercely, hungrily, pushing you up against the wall like he can't get you close enough. Now you easily hug his neck, feeling your hands around his strong back and broad shoulders. Fred's own hands gradually come back around out of the hug and slip down your waist to rest at your hips, his forearms on your legs. His kisses slacken and begin to move.
Fred kisses the side of your mouth, then your cheek, and beneath your ear. You've closed your eyes by now and open them momentarily when you feel his fingers brush your hair aside. Fred follows with a line of lovely kisses that trail down your neck, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms, and your eyelids close again involuntarily. Fred comes to a halt when his mouth reaches the collar of your dress shirt that keeps him from going any further.
"Hmm," Fred's deep voice hums in your ear. You hold back what would be an enjoyed shiver, and feel something tug lightly at your collar. "I'd very much like to remove this..."
You feel yourself blush severely, but he can't see it so you play it off coolly with a chuckle. "Sorry, love," you say softly, petting the back of his head. "It's not the time and place for it."
"I suppose you're right," Fred sighs in mild disappointment. He plants one more kiss on your neck and pulls away. "Though I can't imagine—"
You gasp as the sudden realization hits you, and Fred's eyebrows lift in surprise. "The time!How long have we been here? Is lunchtime over yet? Has everyone left?"
"Ah," Fred replies, nodding once. He helps you down off of the stone seat before you can squirm off. "I doubt George would leave without us." You go to snatch your wand from the pillow and you rush out of the little room with Fred close behind.
"There you are!" It's George. Other than you and Fred, he's the only person left in the Room of Requirement. He comes trotting up to you, wearing a relieved smile. "Where in the world did the both of you bloody apparate to?"
"Over there," Fred responds, jutting his thumb back over his shoulder. You and George look to see nothing but a full, stone wall, and you wonder how no one had noticed the opening while you and Fred had occupied it. "We only stepped away for a quick peck."
A contagious, ecstatic grin spreads across George's just previously confused face, and he looks to you. You blush slightly and shrug. "It was a little more than a peck..."
Then George looks down somewhere below your gaze, and his expression morphs into one of concern. "What's that on your neck?" he asks.
Your hand immediately flies to the side of your neck where Fred had kissed you. No way. That's all it had been, right? Only kisses. There's no way Fred had given you a... a hickey without you realizing it... right? You swallow nervously and turn to face Fred with a look of partially accusatory questioning.
"No! Nope, I did no such thing!" Fred snorts, shaking his head back and forth quickly. He glares half jokingly at George who laughs.
"George!" You punch him hard in the arm. "You had me scared out of my socks!"
George rubs his bicep in pain, but continues to laugh. Fred can't help but join in and soon you have to let go of your anger and find yourself chuckling, too.
"How did you know?" you ask George as you, him, and Fred exit the Room of Requirement with your arms linked together (with you in the middle, as usual). "That I'd fall for your prank?"
"Fred always goes for the neck," George responds simply.
FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 22
Warning Level (1-10): 6
Sadly, there had not been enough time left for a full lesson after Harry's speech back in the Room of Requirement. You want to begin Dumbledore's Army sessions as soon as possible, but you're going to have to remain patient for now.
You can't believe this is all happening... all of this. You-Know-Who is back. The entire Ministry of Magic has gone completely bonkers. You are going to learn defensive magic (and also, hopefully, some offensive magic; that would be absolutely wicked) from Harry Potter himself! But, somehow, above all else, you've gotten to know Fred and George Weasley on a personal level. You smile to yourself at the thought.
"What are you so happy about?" George asks.
You are currently in the twins' dormitory, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the warm stove. In your hands is an open book with the title of "Potion Ingredients: Combinations and Functions". Tonight is a study night, so there's no bubbling cauldron in the center of the room. George lounges in bed, lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand. Fred sits on the other side of the stove, flipping through some other text book.
You weren't aware of George watching you, so you're caught off guard. "Nothing," you reply quickly out of habit. Fred looks up from his book, and George raises an eyebrow, but neither of them push any further.
You go back to your own book for a few minutes until you spot some movement in the corner of your eye, and you lift your head. You catch a glimpse of Fred nodding briefly to George.
"What was that?" you ask.
"Nothing," the twins reply in unison.
You laugh. "Fair enough, fair enough."
Fred gets to his feet and stretches his long arms up above his head. "I've got a scheduled visit with the loo right about now. I'll be back soon; don't miss me too much." He gives George one of their unspoken and indecipherable twin communication looks.
"We won't," George chortles as Fred closes the door behind him.
There's a long moment of silence in which the quiet snoring of the twins' roommates and the soft crackling of the stove are all that can be heard. You start to yawn sleepily, but cut it short when George sits up in bed. You curiously watch him stand up and come over to sit by you on the floor.
You close your book and set it aside. "Well, hello th—"
George interrupts you with an unexpected hug, and it's very different from any hug you've ever received before.
He brings you to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and crushing you up against his torso. His large hands splay out over your back and grasp fistfuls of your sweater. He buries his face in your neck, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine.
You are absolutely stunned, frozen until the sound of your own heart thumping rapidly in your chest brings you back into the moment. You exhale excessively, not having realized that you were holding your breath, and return George's embrace.
It isn't until now that you fully recognize just how big George is. It's obvious to anyone that the twins are tall, and you've hugged George once before, but now that you aren't occupied with crying your eyes out (as you had been during that previous hug) and can take your time to really feel him in your arms, you seem like a complete child compared to George! You're even having to prop yourself up on your knees for this hug while he's still sitting down.
Two minutes later, George hasn't let go of you yet, and you begin to worry.
You gently run your fingernails up and down his back and his frame quivers beneath you. "George?" you say quietly.
"Yeah?" he replies, his voice muffled by your neck. You have to force yourself not to giggle when the movement of his mouth tickles your skin.
"Are you alright?"
George pulls away from you so he can see your face, but keeps his hands on your waist. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
He does appear to be just fine, happy even. So, why else would he hug you if it wasn't for comfort? You know that hug was too intimate to be a simple I-appreciate-you-as-a-friend hug, and even now the way George continues to hold you sends a very particular message...
You make contact with his lovely, bright, green eyes, and feel yourself start to blush. "I mean, maybe it's just me..." You look down at your hands to hopefully hide your blush until it goes away, but your hands are on his broad chest and realizing this makes your face redden even more. "But you seem to be acting a little out of character."
George lowers his head and forces you to meet his eyes. He notices your bright, red cheeks and grins in amusement. "I'm not," he says, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. You must be blushing an incredible shade of red now by the insane amount of heat in your face, and you are grateful he doesn't mention it. "Acting out of character, I mean." He finds your hands on his chest and takes them into his. He pulls them up over his shoulders, giving you no choice but to come closer so your face is only mere inches away from his. He gives you one of his crooked smiles, and your heart melts at seeing it so up close. "As you, of all people, should know," George continues. "The further you get in a book, the better you get to know the characters. I think that..." He pauses, glancing down at your lips, and his words become almost a whisper. "You just need to keep on reading."
Your face is hot, your palms are sweaty, and your heart is beating so hard that you wonder if George can hear it. You can't help but stare at his mouth, his dashing smile, his lips... You start to lean in, but George is the one who closes the gap.
He kisses you. George Weasley. Kisses. You.
The way his lips brush yours is sweet, gentle, almost careful, like he's unsure of what sort of reaction to expect from you. You don't blame him. Even you don't know what to expect from yourself in this kind of situation. So, you try not to expect anything. You simply listen to your heart, close your eyes, and soon find yourself kissing George back.
George's cautious approach immediately disappears. His hold around you tightens, his lips now moving with yours confidently, joyously, triumphantly.
For the first time, you allow yourself to be entirely submerged in that now familiar, sweet scent of honey and redwood. You acknowledge the firmness of George's arms as they flex around you, appreciating also his broad, muscular shoulders. Your hands move up the back of his neck and into his thick, red hair. He sighs into your mouth and you feel his entire body momentarily relax as you unintentionally begin to massage and scratch his scalp with your fingers, but he recovers quickly and comes back kissing you with twice as much vigor.
You sense George is getting carried away when his fingers begin to fiddle with the bottom edge of your shirt, so you reluctantly break the chain of kisses. This seems to bring him back to his senses, and the both of you remain on the floor for a minute or two, panting heavily.
"Did I 'read' far enough?" you eventually chuckle.
George laughs and stands up. "Don't put my book back on the shelf just yet." He helps you to your feet, then wraps you into another hug. As you rest your head on his chest, a concerning thought forms in your mind. You take a step back from George.
"Y/n?" George asks. His expression turns worried and he goes to take your hand, but you pull it away.
This is wrong. This is so wrong. You're interested in two guys. Even worse, those guys are brothers. And even more worse, they're twin brothers. They are each other's best friends. You're almost certain that Fred feels the same way, and to the same extent, about you that George does, and you can't favor one over the other. Your equal range of feelings for both twins won't allow you choose between them. Even if your heart did have a preference, you're sure it would cause a rift between the brothers if you followed it. Ever since you've known them, you've treated the twins exactly the same, regarding relationship status at least. But what you just did solidified huge progress in your relationship with George that you don't have with Fred. Could you have possibly just... accidentally chosen George?
"What about Fred?" you whisper, mostly to yourself. "What happens when he finds out...?"
George's expression softens with relief, and he chuckles. "I have a feeling he already knows."
You're eyebrows knit together in confusion. George nods toward the door, which is cracked open suspiciously. You see something move behind it.
You slowly approach the door and open it to find... nothing. Then you look to your left and gasp in alarm. "Fred!"
He casually leans up against the wall by the door, propping his leg up and folding his arms like he wasn't just eves dropping on you and George seconds ago. He turns his head at the sound of your voice. "Y/n! How do you do?" he greets you, standing up straight. There's not an ounce of guilt on his handsome face.
Your mouth hangs open in disbelief. "When did...? How long...?"
"I saw and heard everything!" Fred declares cheerily. He brushes past you and enters the dorm. He greets George with a congratulating handshake. "And you, dear brother! How was it?"
George looks over at you longingly. "It was absolutely grand," he replies, and you blush, flattered and flustered by the memory of kissing George, until you remember that Fred is now present.
"Fred... y-you're not upset?" you stutter, still trying to process all of the emotions currently running amuck in your mind.
"Not in the slightest," Fred responds. He comes back over to you and rests his forearms up on the top of the doorframe that you still stand under, making himself appear even larger than he actually is. "But you seem to be." With the dim light of the room behind him, Fred's body is only a shadowy silhouette in the doorway, so it is rather spooky (in an exciting, stimulating sort of way) when his green eyes, though darker than George's, seem to glow despite the lack of surrounding light. Fred's hands gradually slide down the sides of the doorway as he bends down so that his mouth is right by your ear when he speaks. "Don't worry, love," he whispers. His warm breath on your skin causes goosebumps to form on your arms. "You'll have your time with me soon enough."
Fred's words ring in your ears long after he says them. He stands up straight and smirks at the look on your face. George is suddenly standing behind him, and, for a fearful moment, you wonder if he's cross about Fred flirting with you, but no. He taps Fred on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, good sir," says George politely. Fred gives you a wink before moving out of George's way.
George steps forward to hug you once again. He plants a quick but tender kiss on your lips before encouraging you out the door. "You'd better get moving," he says. "It's almost midnight."
"Oh, wow! Midnight?" The time had really flown by. "Alrighty then. Goodnight, George." You stand on the tips of your toes to kiss him. You then peer over his shoulder and wave to his twin. "Goodnight, Fred."
"G'night, y/n," Fred responds, smiling knowingly and returning the gesture, only adding a little bit more flare by waggling his fingers. You giggle.
You turn away to start heading down to your own dormitory, but George grabs your hand and spins you back around. "One more, one more," he chuckles, and does indeed give you one last passionate kiss for the night.
You walk away feeling lightheaded, and silently pray that the recollection of tonight's events won't cloud your mind and cause you to let your guard down and get caught on the way back to your common room.
He stumbled back to his quarters, the afterglow of the ritual rapidly fading. He was sweaty. Sore. He was always sweaty and sore—why did he think it would be any different this time around?
He brought the wash cloth up to his face, and paused. After a moment of hesitation, he started carefully wiping away the unfamiliar parts of the skull paint.
There he was, underneath it all, looking back at himself from the mirror. The same as he had always been.
“Not Papa,” he sighed to himself. “Cardinal.”
An accidental companion series to my last Papa IV piece—look, that initial rush of Post-Coronation BDE Confidence can only last for so long.
This started out as that one painting at the end, and then just… kept going! I am WEAK and full of feelings.
could we have some hc on how copia/papa 4 would react to receiving a long confessional love letter from his crush?
Absolutely!
No warnings, just romantic fluff...
Copia was used to fan mail - and by fan mail, he meant letters from his congregation
What he was not used to, was fragranced letters...
When he opened it, a waft of perfume hit his nostrils and tickled, triggering a sneeze.
As he began to read the extremely neat cursive, his heart rate climbed...
"I expect nothing but embarrassment to come from this, but I must confess, Papa..."
He skips ahead to where his crush had signed off with a little heart, and he springs out of his seat.
Surely not... he must be dreaming?
He'd been enamoured with you long before he became Papa, and he couldn't quite believe you were confessing feelings for him?
By the time he finishes the five sides of A4 you had written to him, his heart is in his throat and his eyes wide and glossy.
No one had ever said such lovely things to or about him.
What does he do with this information? Should he write back? Should he run through the halls screaming about it? Should he hunt you down and fall to his knees before you to confess himself?
Before he knows what he's doing, his feet are carrying him out of the halls and to the gardens where he knows you spend your mornings helping his fratello in his garden.
He finds Primo first, letter still in his hand. Primo is busy pruning some red roses, and when he sees Copia's panicked face, he slows him down and asks what's going on
"I must find her, fratello... Is she here?" "Try the greenhouse, fratellino..."
Copia goes to run, Primo stopping him in his tracks
"Here," he hands him a rose to give to you with a wink, and he sets off again.
When he finds you in the greenhouse, alone, you startle at the commotion of him tripping over plant pots you hadn't cleaned up yet.
Dusting himself off, he stands there, words failing him. You see your letter in his hand, and a sinking feeling overwhelms you.
"Y-you... I... I got you... this..." he pants, out of breath from running to find you and holds out the rose to you.
That sinking feeling is replaced by confusion. Hope was a cruel thing - you hoped it wasn't false hope...
He catches his breath, and takes a step forward.
"Red is the romantic kind, sì?" he asks, always so unsure in romance. He's twirling the fresh rose between his fingers.
You nod, smiling softly.
"Would... you like to join me for lunch today, Sorella?"
Hovering over Miles, surrounded by a sea of colour and light, was Gwen Stacy. That Gwen Stacy. How many months has it been since he’d last seen her? That didn’t matter; she was here now, in his room…opening his collective figures. Miles wanted nothing more but to leave. To jump out his window and swing freely with Gwen. Like old times. There was only one problem though…
“I’m… grounded.”
Miles winced. A pregnant pause, until he couldn’t stop the wince on his face from transforming into a grin after he’d heard the teens' response.
“Bummer - is Spiderman grounded?”
———————————————-
“So you’re telling me there’s an elite society with all the best spider-people in it?”
Miles swung behind Gwen, an expression of bewilderment behind his mask as his companion rambled about the society.
“-And Hobie,”
“Who’s Hobie?”
“- he lets me crash in his dimension sometimes,”
“L-like you stay the night?”
At the mention of the name a pang of jealousy flashed through Miles. He never knew she was-all of them were-seeing eachother all this time. While he spent it…alone.
“-Oh and there’s this Lady- Jessica Drew, she rides motorcycles, oh my gosh, I’m leaning so much from her-“
“Oh yeah? I-I’ve learned a lot of new stuff too, I leveled up my whole thing, see?”
Half showing off(and half to rid himself of the growing feeling of envy in his chest), Miles mimicked the graceful flipping style of Gwen Stacy, weaving through narrow gaps in traffic and hanging himself by the ankle. Now behind him, he heard a slight giggle.
“Look at you!”
There it was. That feeling he was so jealous of earlier. From Gwen, from the Spider-society, from The Black Cat. It pooled in his stomach and filled his chest, bursting out his seams in the form of an uncontrollable toothy grin and a giggle back. He felt it. Freedom.
“Look at me!”
—————————————
You were sat atop the roof of your apartment complex, chin resting on your knees. Purring was heard faintly as one of your cats rubbed its side against you, pulling you out of your deep state of pensiveness you had dug yourself into moments prior. You smiled softly as you scratched at the cat. Your smile faded however, as you replayed for the umpteenth time that evening, your conversation with Spider-man.
“Sometimes I just wish things were different, yknow?”
“Different how?”
“Different like, for me.”
“There’s a first time for everything, right?”
You scoffed before sighing deeply. He just didn’t get it, did he? Guess you can’t blame him too much though, if he knew why you did what you did it would practically be the same as ripping off your mask and turning yourself in. Huffing once more, you pushed yourself to stand on the roof. The sun was setting now, the sky blue with tints of pink, orange, and yellow. It was at this moment you realized how long it had been since you took the time to really look at the sunset. It was calm, it was serene, it was-
buzz
A text. Your landlord. Again. Rent was coming up, and you were short last week-pushing all missed fees to this week. Great.
It was at this moment you realized exactly why it had been so long since you took the time to really look at the sunset. Turning away from the painted sky, you collected your feline companions and trudged your way down to your room.
Rummaging through your closet you made it to a makeshift safe designed for the keeping of any valuable items you had seized. Cracking it open with eyes closed and fingers crossed-
It was empty. Great.
You let out a lengthy groan, shifting your weight back to lay on your floor. You hadn’t gone out heist-ing since the incident with Spot. Rolling over on your side, you were met with two bright, wide, yellow eyes, and a large tuft of black fur in your face. As if on cue, the large tuft of fur nuzzled your face before dropping a black leather mask before you. Your black leather mask.
A silent beat passed as you stared at the mask on the ground. Sighing once more, you picked up the mask, your words to Spider-man ringing behind your ears.
“The Cat and The Spider. We can’t truly change who or where we are. No matter…how much we want to.”
Now fully suited, you headed your way towards your window, looking back at your fluffy black friend.
The sun was setting now, the sky blue with tints of pink, orange, and yellow. It was at this moment Gwen realized how long it had been since she took the time to really look at the sunset. Miles smiles, a lighthearted feeling in his chest. Sitting on the underside of this secluded ledge, Miles relished in the serene feeling that enveloped the two of them. In this moment, looking out into the city, the two young heroes felt like they were the only ones in the entire universe. They were alone, together. It was nice.
“ In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man.”
At the sound of Gwen’s voice, Miles turned his head. As she finished her sentence, his lips curved into a soft smile, and he found himself subconsciously leaning into her. Looking up at her, he blinked as he noticed how Gwen returned the smile, but held a tensed, tight-lipped expression behind it. Before he could comment, she parted her lips to speak.
“… And in every other universe, it doesn’t… end well.”
Miles flinched as he processed Gwen's words, opting to shift his body away from her. All of a sudden, his mind was swarmed with memories from his earlier interaction with his feline counterpart. Looking once again into Gwen‘s eyes, Miles took note that The Cat held the same pained expression she displayed now. Before he can even begin to think of a response, Miles' mouth began to move.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”
Miles’ chest was beating wildly now. He had expected Gwen to run away – to block him out like The Black Cat had done moments prior. But the warm pressure he felt pressing against his shoulder spoke differently. Like he did with the thief, Miles sighed deeply. This time, with a content smile across his face.
———————————————————-
It was night time now, and you were on the prowl – grappling around for the perfect opportunity to strike, when you stumbled across the most peculiar thing.
You assumed it was an abandoned building, but you’ve seen a handful of those, this one was different. It had been almost turned inside out, pieces of itself sticking out of… itself? And –
“Is that…glitching?”
Whatever what was going on, one thing for sure, this whole situation felt eerily familiar to you. Every fiber of your being screamed that this was all Spots doing.
Shit.
No way was he about to steal another gig from you.
On tipped-toes, you made your way into the wrecked building, when suddenly you were tugged by an invisible force. Literally.
“GH-“
Before you could continue screaming, the invisible force held you close and slapped its hand across your mouth.
“What are you doing?” The voice whisper-shouted.
Spider-Man. Invisibility, huh? Cool.
Squirming free from his grip, he tried your best to glare in the direction of the voice.
“Um, what are you doing?” You whisper-shouted back.
“Cat!”
“I couldn’t help myself! I was curious…”
“Yeah, I hear that’s bad for cats-”
“No nononononononononoNO!”
The two of you flinch to the sound of this new, distressed voice. While Miles remained invisible, you quickly ducked behind a support beam, squinting at the source of the sound.
In front of you holding an extremely panicked expression behind their mask, was another… another Spider-person?
Just when your curiosity couldn’t have been piqued any further, this new Spider-person, from what looked like to be a watch(a super bad-ass watch, you might add), began to play a projection of-you called it, The Spot.
Rambling erratically about some sciencey-shit you’d maybe understand if you paid more attention in physics, you watched as the hologram of the spotted man stumbled over himself, as well as practically every possible item in the room. You inched closer in an attempt to gauge more about this whole situation, albeit, you still didn’t catch that much, only managing to cling onto words like ‘holes’ or ‘collider’.
“Shoot…”
The hologram played out, and the new Spider’s panic grew.
“shootshootshootshoot-“
The Spots’ hologram began to mumble angrily- was that your name you heard in there? And Spiders? A lot of Spiders’ name, actually. You had no idea he’d had a run-in with him too. Soon enough, the panic began to rub off on your Spider-Man, as you heard him start to mirror the words of the stranger.
“Shoot.”
“UGH, no! Gwen Gwengwengwengwe-“
“Gwen! Hi~”
A…pregnant… Spider-woman appeared before the three of you. You truly seen it all now.
“Spider?”
Calling out to him, you tried your best to remember where his invisible form last was. No response. You whipped your head around wildly until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Do you…know what’s going on?”
Miles kept his eyes trained on Gwen, as she explained to the Spider-woman about her detour with him.
“I have an idea.”
“Do you know who they are? Are they… other Spider-Men?”
“… never see him again, all right?”
The new spider person(whom you collected her name to be Gwen), spoke. Her shoulders dropped, and her head hung low as the holographic form of the pregnant hero disappeared. You watched in silence as she reached a hand before her mask and tugged it off. The hand on your shoulder squeezed before slipping away. Turning in your direction, a maskless Gwen stared past you - into the night. Upon seeing her face, you flinched. Ready to run off had she noticed your presence. But she didn’t. With glazed eyes, she stared right past you. You blinked, and for a moment, your jaw fell. She was young, looked around your age with neck-length blonde hair, half shaved. Her brows furrowed in a way that felt familiar to you, in a way that said, ‘I wish things were different’. She remained staring for a few moments, you and Miles stared back. It was quickly broken by a flash of bright light, spiralling in patterns and colours you’ve never seen before, And pulling her mask on, Gwen stepped in.
You didn’t anticipate your Spider-Man to be standing upside down when he came out of his invisible state, yet there he was. Facing away from you, towards the orange and red amalgamation of light Gwen stepped into moments prior.
“Sp-“
“I’m going in.”
“Wai-no. What do you mean you’re going in-”
“I mean, Cat, I'm going in there.”
His voice was raised now, shoulders tensed. He jumped down from the ceiling, stepping towards the portal. Realizing he was unmasked, you took in the dark curls that framed his face. You felt a strong urge to pull your own face covering off.
You did.
“Then… I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t-”
Spider turned around to face you. Brows furrowed and mouth open to send a negative retort toward your way, until his breath hitched as he became aware of the bareness of both of your faces. You stood, arms crossed, staring into the eyes of the boy. He had gentle features, warm brown eyes. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly where you’ve seen him. School, maybe? He must’ve recognized you, seeing as he stared back with a bewildered look on his face. He closed his mouth, form un-tensing. You took the silence to speak once more.
“I said, I’m coming with you.”
You stepped towards the portal, reaching to pull your mask back on.
“I said I wanted things to be different, right? Well, I – I feel like this is a chance to change things up…what is it you said again? That ‘there’s a first time for everything’? Well, what if you were right, Spider, th-”
“Miles.”
You looked at, with a soft smile on the young heroes face
“Miles, my name.”
“… Miles.”
You tested out his name before speaking yours, one he must’ve recognized, as he responded with a flinch.
“You said your last names’ Hardy? Like Walter Hardy? The noto-
“ Notorious Black Cat burglar? Yeah no shit, Sherlock.“
Your mouth stretched into a wide smile as the serious air between the two of you dissipated. The portal crackled, before beginning to shrink in size. Miles spoke,
“So you’re… you sure you want to do this?“
There was a part of you that screamed at you to stay. That worried about everything you were leaving-by leaving. Guilt seeped into the back of your mind and you turned away from Miles to face the dark city skyline.
You reflected on your conversation earlier. Did you really want to be The Cat forever? Become like your father and die doing this job?
Did you really?
“I’m sure.”
You and Miles both now reached to tug your masks back on. The two of you sent one last look back out onto the city before nodding at eachother, and diving in.
Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, oblivious to the reason…
Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).
Parts : First - Previous - Next (coming next week)
Warnings : foul language, mild nudity (chest), mention of s3x, drug mention, gun use, mild violence slow burn, english isn’t my first language.
Words : 4,4k
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
"Mmh... are... you sleeping ?" A very confused voice asked
"Nnh ?!" You shot up on your bed, feeling the blanket shuffle down on your legs. You tried to open your eyes in a panic before hissing when sunlight punched your irises. The curtains. You forgot the damn curtains.
"You guys gotta stop doing that... I have a door, you know." You rubbed your eyes.
It was Mihael. How nice of her to wait over night to scold you for your behaviour. You weren't naive; you knew Adriel would go complain to his friend. But you were smart enough to know she wouldn't say anything about it. It's been centuries since she learned you could actually feel. Yet she never said a word about it to Chamuel or Jophiel. You did not fully trust her, but she was okay.
"What is it like to sleep ?" Mihael was always curious, but she lacked the bravery to try. Whether it was food, walking, sex, or, in that case, sleep, to satisfy her hunger for knowledge and experimentation, she came to you.
"Mmh, peaceful.. I guess-" You looked down at your chest and decided you had enough that people kept catching you half naked. So you snatched up your tank top and got up.
"Just peaceful ? That's it ?" She jumped on through the window on your bed, shoes on. Ugh.
"Yeah, yeah, and... energised too. Listen, Mihael, why don't you tell me what you want ?"
Yes, you were a bit rude, but you just didn't have time; you needed to get to Aziraphale to discuss where the boy might be. And if you wonder, you never went to Crowley's flat. Risking being caught by unexpected visitors was enough of a reason to not visit.
"Right, right ! So..." She looked down, gloomy. "It's time, Y/N; we're going to unfold the Bound soon." She confessed with a sad smile.
You shuddered. Fuck. You forgot about that.
"You know, the four horsmen are being summoned, and we need to lay off so War can fully step in."
"Yeah, I can't come into my full power..."
"Really ? Me too !" She chirped, delighted that you shared her point of view. You scoffed but smiled anyway. It's really a shame she'll never get to experience human life.
"So, now we must turn off the flow of love and go back to heaven to prepare for war."
You ruffled your hair and grabbed a drink of water. Mihael's piercing eyes were etched on the glass, and you handed it to her with a sigh. She looked so happy, you almost wanted to laugh. How selfless of you...
She didn't quite know how to drink, however, but you decided to let her test the water, so to speak. Mihael coughed a bit.
"Does that mean hate demons will rise too ?" You interrogated, your tone genuinely dull.
"Oh, they better not ! They'll have to wait for the battle to start, those worthless rascals..."
The cupid suddenly gasped and looked at you with guilt. You know she didn't mean to insult him. Your lip twitched, but you sent her a reassuring smile. Still, she couldn't shake the regret out of her scent.
"You know, maybe he didn't turn into a hate demon..." Her sweet voice faltered as she went on.
"It's fine, Mihael. You should go; I'm sure Adriel is waiting for you." You cajoled her while leading her to the door. Yes, you have a door.
"About that..." She stopped and turned around. Her orange eyes just scanned yours to convey what she meant. Not that she had to; you could smell the snowy nights from miles away. "Just be careful, Y/N."
Her advice kind of fell on deaf ears. You were always cautious, but you didn't live in fear of what they'd do to you if they found out you were out of line. Yet, they dread the simple thought of what you could be. You sloped against your wooden door. What a good way to start the day...
Calling off all Love so War can enter the picture. It just felt so contradictory. You were a being of love and peace; how could you be excited to see humans kill each other and fight in a war, possibly going against Crowley or... well, you knew who. You will not let this world be torn to smithereens. It's your safe place, your heaven. Your home.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
You strolled through the busy London streets, eager to get to Aziraphale as quickly as possible. A few people bumped your shoulders, stomped on your toes, and cursed at you. The withdrawal of love was already happening. Unsettled in an unwelcoming environment made you skittish, and you picked up the speed.
As you reached the bookshop, you stopped to analyse its not-so-familiar presence. The energy was angelic, yes, but it was so powerful...
Shit.
Archangels. And they were just leaving.
"Whoop- !" You activated your spell hastily. The chime rang, and the two entities simply walked off.
"No war, without war. Ah ! That's quite the line !" Grabriel almost yodeled. Right. You stayed there with heavy breathing.
Subconsciously, you called off the spell. Or maybe you didn't cast it in the first place. In any case, you didn't expect to feel the pressure of someone's hand on your shoulder.
"AH !"
Adding to the fact that your heart was about to explode just a second ago' the speed of your twirl did nothing to help you stay steady on your feet. Luckily for you, Aziraphale was alert enough to come to your rescue. He pressed his hand against your scapula and held you against his torso. You felt the side of your mouth twitch.
"I'm sorry, dear. I didn't realise how nervous you were." He jived, his cheekbones showing. But the smell of grapefruit told you you were not the only one nervous here.
"What did they want ?" You asked, feeling the ground with your own two feet again.
"Oh, they were just checking the status of the Antichrist. He opened the door for you and followed your lead.
"Why ? Did they suspect anything ?"
"Surprisingly, no. Not a thing." He shrugged in disbelief. You liked the scent of disbelief: custard. Yes, just custard. Kinda hard to believe, heh ?
"Mh, Crowley's right... Heaven's not very bright, heh ?" You snickered. You sat on the couch and happily watched him chuckle.
"It seems so. It kind of makes me wonder if we are too." He took his place next to you.
"Oh no, we're bright." You started, glancing at him while pretending to reflect. "But we're also walking disasters.." You snorted.
"We can say the same about Crowley, then." He laughed and slid his right leg underneath his left thigh. You giggled and took a big breath of the new smell. Ah, freesia and blueberry pie; there's nothing better.
"Absolutely." You leaned back on the seat, literally comforted by the scent. "I just don't understand... What happened during the baby swap ?"
A few minutes pass. Minutes later, you just stared at each other. Before finally realising what might be the source of the problem.
"I think... I'm going to call Crowley reel quick-"
The ringtone of the bookshop's phone rang, interrupting you. Aziraphale quickly got up, with the help of his hand on your knee.
"Maybe it's him." He muttered while picking it up. "Hello, Fell's Bookshop, what can I do for you ?"
You waited for him. For a few seconds. Then you got bored. You left Eden at home, so you didn't have any company. So you decided to roam around the library.
"The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter ?"
The sculpture of a prancing horse proudly sat on a small table. You always had a lot of fun drawing the details with your fingers since the day he created his bookshop, which was also the first day you ate chocolate, if you remember correctly. You blew away the little dust that settled on his back, and flew right at you, making you cough.
"But there are..." He stopped to see what you were doing. You smiled, charming him up. His nose simply twitched before resuming. "There are no copies of her book available."
You stepped away from the horse and instead looked through Aziraphale's prophecy books. It has always amused me how humans try so helplessly to predict what the future holds. You were no stranger to the thought; you had your fair share of doubts about your own future. However, you learned what happens when you ask too many questions.
"I don't have it. Nobody has-" The sudden silence pushed you to study the angel's face. Apparently, the correspondent wasn't the most polite boy. His mouth was set in a hard line, and he stuck his nose in the air. He was so outraged that he reeked of watermelon and curry. You would agree that it's not a nice combination. Also, you hadn't noticed, but his glasses were quite fancy on him. You shook the thought away.
"Well, there really is no need for that kind of language." He hung up and put down his glasses. You couldn't help but stare for a moment. His bright, white hair caught the sun in its lock, giving him a glow to his already stunning face. Oh, stop already, will you ?
When you finally gawked back at the shelves, a huge brown spider welcomed you.
"Fuck- !" You yelled and fell back down with a loud thud, knocking a few books on your way. Azirphale gasped and sprinted by your side.
"Are you okay ?" He was very anxious. You were just embarrassed out of your mind.
"I'm fine... Let's just call Crowley already."
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
"Hey, this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do. Do it with style."
No, it wasn't the demon answering machine. It was just you mocking him. Which he didn't seem to enjoy.
"Haha, keep laughing, and I'll bring back the spider to your face." He growled. "Why are you afraid of spiders anyway? Aren't you supposed to love all animals?"
Aziraphale was such a snitch ! Right after he got Crowley on the phone, he told him about your fall. You very distinctly heard his laugh after that.
"Stop your bickering, you two! And watch the road." He sighed, not comfortable at all. He didn't like speed that much. Nonetheless, for his best, Crowley should be the one to drive. You might give him a heart attack if you were the one behind the wheel.
"You've lost the boy."
"We've lost him." He corrected.
"A child has been lost. But you still know his age." He started to point.
"We know." He once again corrected
"We get it: you don't want to be the only one responsible." You rolled your eyes. Congratulations! You earned yourself a growl.
"We know his birthday. He's 11." Aziraphale was trying his best to keep your attention.
"You make it sound easy."
"Well, it can't be that hard..."
"At least it reduces the search area." You flapped your hand. You were still frustrated, and you felt his discouragement slowly becoming yours. Your heart filter wasn't doing very well. We only have to find his birth record."
"And then what ?"
"Well, then we find the child." Azirphale smiled. At least you could feel his hope too.
"And then what ?"
Aziraphale didn't know what to say. He simply stared at Crowley. Until a car honk cut short his attempt to find a solution.
"Watch out for that pedestrian !" The angel bawled with alacrity.
"Woah- !" You shouted. The movement had you flying on the left side of the back seat. You've never so close to the goddamn door.
"She's on the street; she knows the risk she's taking." He dissmissed. "And I'm sure it would help you two stop breathing down my neck."
You scoffed.
Oh, I'll give you 'breathing down your neck.
You scooted over to the right seat and leaned behind Crowley. Your mouth grazed his ear, and you felt the tiniest tilt of his head, like he forced himself not to move. So prideful, you joked to yourself.
"Just watch the road." You breathed down his neck. You grinned as you watched gooey bumps form on his skin. He really hated it. You laughed and pulled back. You patted his shoulders and repeated yourself. "Watch the road."
Your laughter died out as you saw Aziraphale gulp. You took back your place in the middle, almost guilty.
"Sorry, I forgot about personal space again."
Crowley's sunglasses blocked your view of his eyes; you couldn't tell if you had overstepped. We can all thank Aziraphale for his help in easing the tension.
Where is this hospital, anyway? He asked. He rubbed his sweaty palm on his trousers in an attempt to calm his nerves. Crowley coughed.
"Mh, a village near Oxford: Tadfield. His neck was still tensed. You really strung a string, huh?
"Crowley, you can't do 90 miles per hour in central London !"
"Why not ?"
"You'll get us killed! Well, inconveniently disincorporated. He granted.
"Oh God, no, not the paperwork..." You got disincorporated once, and it took you two years to finally get a new one. Still, you're sure it had been improperly delayed.
"Music ! Why don't I put on a little music...?" He hummed quizzically and looked over at you. "Do you know the Velvet Underground?"
"You wouldn't like it." Crowley interjected.
"Well, it kind of feels like you've been high the whole time."
"Oh, bepop!" He recognised you. You eyed him in disbelief before nodding.
"... Right-"
"Yah !" Aziraphale yelped. Crowley did a swerve to the right, flying you away in that direction.
"Brute !"
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The air was stuffy. Like on a deeply hot day. It was overwhelming, too. As you left the car, you scanned around you, discretely sniffing the wind. It was not held in a constant flow of emotion; it permeated the air. But it felt good. It wasn't threatening in its presence; it just existed and belonged.
"Y/N ?" Crowley called out, standing in front of the manor gates next to Aziraphale. You studied the ark, made of bricks and white stone. The whole building was surrounded by metal fences, where you could at least see the central courtyard. Which seemed cluttered with a bunch of stuff.
"You're sure this is the right place? You wondered, doubtful.
You went to them, attempting to filter that particular emotion.
"It doesn't really look like a hospital." Aziraphale agreed with you when you got to their level.
But then it hit you. You gasped, like you'd been punched in the stomach. You grabbed the angel's arm to not collapse. That was so strong. You haven't felt such things in a long, long time.
"What is it ?" Crowley asked. You chuckled.
"It feels so loved." You gazed up. Aziraphale straightened your arm while he searched for it too. You pressed your hand to your chest. Your heart filter was giving you trouble, yes, but you sure as hell wouldn't complain about it.
"No, it's definitely the place. Crowley spoke, his tone faint.
"They're right..." He smiled at you, thrilled by the fulfilling sensation of love.
"Uh-hu... Sure, can we go see the nuns now ?" He led the way.
You scoffed. "Grumpy pants..." You followed in second.
Despite that, you looked at Aziraphale and giggled. You were glad to finally be able to share your joy without risking destruction for it. Immediately after, you three got shot by something.
"Argh !" For once, the three of you simultaneously exclaimed:
Crowley got hit inside his vest, right above the heart. In your case, the sharp pain was localised to your right hip. As for Aziraphale, the "bullet" struck his calf, making him hop on one foot for a second.
"What..."
You touched where the impact occurred and saw it was just... paint?
"Blue ?" Aziraphale asked, ever-so-confused.
"Heh, yellow." You snorted. Oh, you've got red. You noticed Crowley's chest was covered with red paint. "One more, and we're Power Rangers.."
"Hey !" A nasal voice hollered. Crowley took one step forward in front of you and Aziraphale. The man in army clothing scoffed. What... are they doing out there? You saw the angel shuffle to see the state of his pants. "You've all been hit! I don't know what you think you're playing at-"
Crowley abruptly roared as his demon self and the whiny player fainted.
"Well, that was fun." He smirked.
"Well, yes, fun for you. Look at the state of those trousers !" Aziraphale pivoted his leg for you to see. "I've kept them in tip-top condition for over 180 years now." Crowley started to circle around the both of you. "Oh, I'll never get this stain out."
"You could just miracle it away." You shuddered, saddened by his concern.
"Mmh, yes, but... Well, I would always know the stain was there." He explained, his tone brittle. You pouted with a smile. Ah, such pleading eyes ! How could you say no ? You twirled your wrist around, waving the paint away.
"Oh, thank you." You smiled and enjoyed the whiff of old books. The smell of thankfulness, if you wondered. You spotted the strange gun on the ground and picked it up.
"What a weird piece of hardware. You enjoyed the design of it, actually. Might copy it, too. Replace the paintball stocking compartment with a crossbow flight groove and riser...
"Expert in the field ?" Crowley snorted before taking the gun away. "Don't your lot disapprove of guns ?" He asked and pretended to aim your way.
Unless they're in the right hands," Aziraphale said, confiscating the weapon. Then they give weight to a moral argument. His explanation seemed to amuse the demon, who had a big grin plastered on his face.
"A moral argument ? Really ?" He bugged the two of you. You were just thankful. Aziraphale took the subject into his own hands and just shrugged. He laughed a bit before walking towards the building.
"Come on."
Inside, a few posters and a board were displayed that showed the rules of "the paintball game". The reception seemed to also stock a few guns and helmets. Soon, they won't have to just play war... You heard the commotion through the window, plus a kindhearted "Fuck off" too.
"Charming..." Aziraphale mumbled to your right.
"Wonder where the nuns went ?" Crowley took a brochure from the little table on your left and inspected it.
"Any information about the former satanic maternity in that little paper of yours?" You teased. The demon forced a laugh before throwing the brochure away.
On your way, you encountered a young woman running your way.
"Oh, Millie from Accounts caught me on the elbow." She groaned. You ended up stopping diagonally. The angel bent slightly in front of her to check for a possible wound at her elbow. "Who's winning?"
"You're all going to lose." Crowley announced, since he was closer to her. He snapped his fingers, obviously operating a miracle. In an instant, the splashy sound of the bullets started to sound more like a machine gun than a fairly hurtful but still non-lethal weapon. The woman ran off.
"Huh..."
What the hell did you just do? Aziraphale snapped with frantic movements.
"Well, they wanted real guns, so I gave them what they wanted, he mused, visibly proud of himself. You followed right behind him. You couldn't help your incredulity and stared at him, mouth agape.
Once you got to a window, you and Aziraphale pressed against the window and saw barrels exploding, sparks, and dust everywhere.
"Crowley !" You stressed, running up to him.
"There are people out there shooting at each other. The guardian lamented by your side.
"Well, it lends weight to their moral argument. He kicked a door, shattering glass in the process. Aziraphale joined his hands and fidgeted with his fingers.
"Everyone has free will, including the right to murder. Just think of it as a microcosm of the universe. Oh, don't try to lecture us, buddy!
"They're murdering each other. Aziraphale stood before Crowley, stopping him in his tracks. You joined him.
You saw Crowley roll his eyes, despite his eyes.
"No, they aren't. No one's killing anyone; they're all having miraculous escapes. It wouldn't be any fun otherwise. He explained it before our pleading eyes.
You scoffed. You shared a knowing smile with Aziraphale. Sometimes, you forget that Crowley is actually a good person and are worried that he might harm humans. But he never did. Deep down, he really loved humankind. In a teasing mood, the two of you started to walk away in front of Crowley, discussing his case.
"Aah, what a softie." It was a real claim. One thing that the demon didn't particularly appreciate was that you felt him boil in your back. Aziraphale nodded.
"Of course. I've always said that, deep down, he really is a nice guy. He began, but gasped instead.
Well, both of you did.
Crowley had suddenly roared and seized you by your collars. He roughly pulled back, colliding both of your bodies against his. You stumbled back; your head clued his upper chest. You grabbed on to his waist to not fall. Aziraphale had landed a bit higher, at neck level, and was able to meet his gaze. He also stood approximately straight, while you were quite curled up against Crowley.
"Shut it ! I'm a demon; I'm not nice! You felt his voice rumble in his chest. You gulped. You weren't scared by any means, just... mh, troubled? "I'm never 'nice'. Nice is a four-letter word. I will not have
"Excuse me, gentlemen ?"
The pair both turned their heads towards the professional voice. All you could do was try to nuzzle your way up Crowley's arm to peek over the black vest.
"Sorry to break up an intimate moment. Can I help you? She slowed down, and Crowley had time to recognise her. You gazed up at him but couldn't quite make out his expression. Nor his smell.
"You." His grip loosened. You helped yourself back up with the help of your stretched-out arm. You saw Aziraphale analyse Crowley's expression.
"Saints and demons preserve us; it's Master Crowley-" The woman with short hair stepped back. She didn't have time to flee, however, as the demon snapped her in place.
"You didn't have to do that; you could have just asked her. Aziraphale scolded him while fixing his suit. Crowley opened his mouth wide and made an offended sound. Alright, let's not discuss what just happened, then... You felt the angel's hand dust your shoulder swiftly.
"Of course, of course ! No. Yeah. 'Excuse me, ma'am, we're three supernatural entities just looking for the notorious Son of Satan. I wonder if you might help us with our inquiries." He spat and flashed his teeth in a scornful manner.
"Of course, of course ! No. Yeah. ' Excuse me, ma'am, we're three supernatural entities just looking for the notorious Son of Satan. Wonder if you might help us with our inquiries ?" He spat and flashed his teeth in a scornful manner. You shot him a disapproving look but didn't say anything.
You walked up to her and let Aziraphale do the questioning.
"Mh..." He coughed, unsure. "Look... hello." His smile was always so sweet. You breathed a laugh and shook your head at your proximity. "You weren't, by any chance, a nun here at this convent 11 years ago, were you ?"
"I was." She acquiesced, completely transfixed.
"Mmh, luck of the devil." Eyebrow raised, you looked at Aziraphale, who had quite the cocky little smile on his face. You glanced at Crowley and held yourself back from snorting at the sight of your shared experience.
"What happened to the baby that was given to you ?" You asked.
"I swapped him with the son of the American ambassador. Such a nice man. You caught the smell of sun-soaked sand. You couldn't help but smile when you felt how fond she was of the memory. " He used to be the ambassador of Swindon. She added.
Honestly, you were relieved you found as much confusion on their faces as you felt. Crowley shrugged and shook his head, showing that he had no clue what the fuck she was talking about.
"Then Sister Theresa Garrulous came and took the other baby away."
"This American ambassador—what was his name ? Where did he come from ? And what did he do with the baby ?" The demon snarled, his red hair flying everywhere.
"I don't know."
"Records." Aziraphale insisted. "There must have been records." He gestured for her to continue.
"Yes. There were lots of records. We were very good at keeping records."
"Good; so where can we find them? You questioned.
"They were unfortunately burned in the fire."
Crowley groaned and threw it back in pure annoyance. "Hastur !"
Aziraphale queried again.
"Is there anything you remember about the baby?"
"He had lovely little toesies-woesies." Her response brought a smile to your face, matching Aziraphale's. Crowley obviously had enough and took off.
"Let's go."
"You will wake, having had a lovely dream about whatever you like best. He miracled. You added a good memory orb discreetly for good measure.
"Oi." Crowley called.
As you approached outside, the sirens overtook all sound, and you saw dozens of policemen evacuating the players and taking their rigged weapons.
"You'd think he'd show up, wouldn't you ? You'd think we could detect him in some way." Aziraphale notified. He waved away a bit of smoke.
"He won't show up. Not to us. Protective camouflage." Crowley reached behind your back and pulled on Aziraphale's arm firmly, dragging you along. A bullet zoomed to your right.
"He won't even know it, but his powers will keep him hidden from prying occult forces."
You were nearing the exit, and the air felt heavy in your lungs. The stress you felt was really increasing as the trail of the investigation plummeted. Plus, the fact that love was slowly disappearing was freaking you out of your mind. You felt a constant pull trying to get you back to heaven, where all the love was stored away. Everything was just too nerve-wrecking for your dysfunctional little heart.
"Occult forces ?" You heard Aziraphale's question.
"Well, you know, us."
You watched the angel's features contort into perplexity.
"We're not occult." Crowley sighed at his objection. "Angels aren't occultists; we're ethereal."
You didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the pressure of it all, or just the fact that Aziraphale still at to make such shallow precision, but you giggled quietly at first. The more it grew, the more it alerted the two entities. It was apparently communicative since they also started laughing softly. You continued to joke on your way to the car. You took you regular seat back, and smiled foundly as the two in the front.
Yeah, Armaggedon was bad. But at least you didn't have to face it on your own.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Hard day for Y/N, I hope you won't get any bruises ! ;)
If you have any question about your character (yourself in a sense), I'll do my best to answer without spoilers ^^
Hope you enjoyed it ! Bye !
Parts : First - Previous - Next (coming next week)
No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)
Prologue: Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend
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A/N: Hey to whoever reading this! Thanks for taking the time to do so !! This is the first fic i’ve wrote ever so please excuse any hiccups. This concept of a Black Cat variant has been bouncing around in my head since the first movie, so I decided to write it down. I’m not really sure if I’ll continue this to be a full story, (if I see that people are reading it, then of course I will), but this is kinda like a prologue/test chapter so my ideas don’t die without ever seeing the light of day. I’ll also be posting this on ao3 under the same title!! Feel free to comment, criticize, and give any ideas into how I can further incorporate the reader into the plot. Thanks again & enjoy!
P.S. I’m not sure if I want this to be romantic or just a reader-insert just yet. So don’t expect romance anytime too soon.
WORD COUNT: 1337
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You hated to admit it, but it was such a rush.
The drop of your stomach when you lowered into the building,
The sound of your heart pumping in your head as you weaved your way past security,
The adrenaline rush while you whip around the city, knowing that the job was done, all with your face remaining unknown.
… Who are you kidding? You loved to admit it.
Well, you never would actually admit it, that would ruin the whole ‘secret identity’ thing you’ve got going on, but you get the idea.
It was exhilarating. And almost comical. Quite comical, actually. How you would swipe these valued works from right under the noses of whatever snob owned the museum. You’d think if they were so valued, they’d invest in better security measures, but here we are.
For around five months now, you’ve been Brooklyn’s one and only* Black Cat. At least that’s what they liked to call you. Your actual name was Y/N Hardy, and you weren’t all that special. Born here, lived here, parents died here, and after months of wallowing over that, you ended up picking up this gig. Something in you wanted to make a name for yourself. You craved some sort of recognition, plus rent had to be paid somehow.
Your kleptomaniac tendencies turned out quite useful in the end, a few months ago you managed to turn in enough goods to afford you a spot at Brooklyn Visions. Before they passed, your parents hated that school, but it had always been your dream to go.
Being The Cat was terribly easy. Go in, take shit, go out, sell shit. With the money you’d obviously take care of your needs first, it only being you and your cats in your apartment - food, student fees, cute clothes on the side, you know the works. But the leftovers, you always gave back. One thing you kept from your father was to always remember to give back. “If not, you’re just as bad as those sons of bitches you’re taking from”, he’d always say.
From the older lady down in room 213, who isn’t able to afford medical now that her kids moved out.
To the young queen who makes her pay from gigs at clubs after being kicked out by her parents.
The single dad with three girls, the kid who caught onto drugs way too early, the janitor, all the way down to that dog with one leg missing(as much as you strongly prefer felines), they all needed your help. They all needed Black Cat. They never questioned where the money came from, it’s always been this way. You didn’t live on the pretty side of town, cash is cash and as long as it ends up in their hands, it never mattered the methods taken to get there.
You had no complaints, it made your job easier. You’d show up to them as Y/N, money in hand, they’d call you generous, and that was it. No suspicion towards The Cat whatsoever. Smooth interactions every time, it was terribly easy.
Except for right now.
Right now, standing right inbetween you and your next paycheque( a diamond necklace ), is a boy.
A boy when you’d sworn the gallery would’ve been long closed and empty by the time you started your heist.
A boy sporting a spider-suit.
You’d heard of the city’s new hero for a while now, although you paid no mind to it, as he’s been dealing with more relevant criminals, and you’ve been stealing for this long without any hint of his interest towards your activities. You suppose the rise of news reports on your…endeavors are what may have drawn him here, but why now?
Why him ?
It’s now been a good thirty seconds of silent staring between you and the spider-boy, you were suddenly grateful for your mask, while sweaty, concealed the ever-growing grimace on your face as this awkward silence lengthened.
The boy breathed in.
“So…”
You took the noise as your ‘go’ signal, and ran. Pushing past him in the process, you aimed your whip towards the necklaces’ glass case, and flexed your arm. A sickening crack of glass followed shortly. Good.
“Wh- Hey!”
The Spider called after you, seemingly taken aback by your sudden dash.
“Where,” He leaped off the walls, and into the air, in a matter of seconds.
“do you think,” He released his webbing in your direction(shit, you forgot about that), it wrapping around your form, tripping you up in the process.
“you’re going!” Spider pulled(shit), before you could whip your way towards your exit, you found yourself tied up, feeling almost cocoon-esque, hanging right above the glass case, feet-first from the ceiling, face-to-face with Spider-man. How humiliating.
“Just…admiring the art, is all.” You finally spoke, shakiness in your voice prevalent. You’ve never been caught before.
“Right,” Spider quipped back, stretching the R. “and your version of admiring includes theft?”
“Woah! Okay, well ‘theft’ is a bit intense,” You snickered under the mask. Spiders’ masked eyes narrowed.
“how do you know I’m not planning on returning it? I’d much rather call it ‘borrowing.’”
“Yeah? Well, seems your ‘borrowing’ hobby will have to end, Cat.” Spider let out a small grunt, before flipping over and landing right on top of the glass case below the two of you. Another crack. Perfect.
“Looks like the Cat’s in the bag, huh?” He laughed to himself.
A silent beat passed.
The Spider, now focused on writing some sort of sticker label for when the cops show, had not noticed your insistent wriggling back up on the ceiling. You had hoped that maybe with enough squirming-
The webbing loosened.
With enough squirming maybe you could-
You reached for your whip.
Maybe you could-
You flicked your wrist, aiming to latch onto something, anything. And pulled.
CRASH
Finally.
You dropped down onto your toes, right beside the thing that started it all. That damn diamond necklace.
Glass littered the gallery floors, reflecting light and creating all kinds of shapes you would’ve loved to admire had Spider not been racing after you, eyes trained on the necklace now in your hands.
From an outside perspective, it appeared as if you two were dancing. Punches were tossed, webs slung, sarcastic quips made, whips thrown, all dodged masterfully by the two of you. Neither of you two were letting up. This buzz of adrenaline, the energy pricking at your skin, gave you that feeling you always loved when you left the house as The Black Cat- you felt utterly and wholeheartedly alive.
As you managed to land one kick to Spiders stomach, you felt alive. As you used your grappling hook to fling yourself through your exit, you felt alive-
“What’s wrong Webby? Cat’s got your tongue?” You shouted, from atop your exit window, looking down at the spider-boy, the widest grin you’ve ever sported concealed under your mask.
Miles took note of how your masked eyes squinted, the clear smile in your voice. You were enjoying this.
And you were enjoying this - necklace now hastily stuffed into your satchel, you flipped backwards off the building, removed your mask and screamed.
It was different this time, being caught, the chase, the fight, it gave you this high. A high you’ve never felt before. As you grappled your way through the night, your smile persisted.
By the time you made it back to your apartment, you were winded. You had come down from whatever buzz you were feeling earlier, now ridden with aches and exhaustion.
Suit off, cats fed, hair washed, necklace stored(you debated keeping it for yourself for memories sake or cashing it in as originally planned), you made it to your bed. Adrenaline at a low, you still felt giddy.
You hated to admit it, but that was actually… fun.
Smiling one last time, you decided to roll over and force yourself to sleep, thoughts of the night’s activities bouncing softly in your mind.
warnings: language, insults, cavity-inducing fluff, crying hobie, mentions of giving blood, mentions of procedures, needy cat, mention of weed, allusions(ish) to s*icide
a/n: omg writing fluff takes me so much longer than anything else cause i’m squirmin around and squealin BUT here it is! second to last chapter! (also, i’m not black so i hope i touched on the haircare for black hairstyles right! if i missed the mark please let me know and i will re-educate myself!) what a wild ride, i’ll get the last chapter either up late tonight, or tomorrow! thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy!
Summary: Seeing a familiar face but different person. A person you once loved.
Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst
P.s: I don't know how to feel about this chapter,im sorry that the update is slow but i believe in quality over quantity <3 enjoy spiders!
Today have been moving so fast,first you found out how Gwen got here as you follow Miles after he left the party to catch up on Gwen. The only reason you follow him was because you promised mama Rio.
(Flashback)
You watch as Miles walk away from the party down to the fire escape stairs standing beside mama Rio. You can sense her restless and worry feeling for her own son as you remembered how much Miles wanted to leave from here,to see somewhere new,spread his wings.
“It’s okay mama Rio,you know how Miles is, he'll be alright”You hold her hand try to reassure her. mama Rio sigh turning her head looking at you with a worry expression.
“I know he is but…I’m scared of him wanting to grow up so fast, you both are just teens my dear”She held both of your shoulder turning you to face her,firm grasp on your shoulders she says “Promise me dear…when me and Jeff are not around…promise me you keep him safe,look out for him”
You put your hand on one of her palm and nod your head “Promise,mama”
(End flashback)
How much are you willing to protect him? Your best friend? Currently you held a strong grip on his arm as you watch this Spider-man…with a name Miguel O'Hara is threatening to keep Miles him here in this spider club house thing. Because he is an anomaly…and Miguel also want to keep you here because you’re supposed…to die.
“Because of you Miles,she was supposed to die!”You were destined to die at the collider…when you’re trying to help your mentor,Peter Parker. At the hand of the Prowler,uncle Aaron. The canon event for your mentor is to lose his uncle Ben…to lose you,his pupil.
To know you’re supposed to die is like a punch in the guts… you feel sick in the stomach to know you’re not supposed to survive or even breath another day.
Currently you held Miles behind you shielding him from Miguel as he try to destroy the barrier that have been made from the big spider machine that transport any anomaly back to their original dimension. You stare wide eyes at Miguel who is trying his best to stop you both,to see this man trying to tear apart the barrier. Fear grips around you. Suddenly the machine finish its job making both of you float and transported back to your home…or so you though.
“Aaahhh!!” you screamed as you are transported into the portal moving so fast it spit out both spiders out on top of a rooftop,the rain pouring down makes everything slippery as you and Miles rolled and slide through the concrete. You and Miles are slightly injured after getting kicked,slammed and thrown around like a rag doll by other spiders. You prop yourself up on your elbow shaking your head slightly, your ears ringing your visions are double as you try to locate where Miles is. “M-miles…?”your visions focus to see him his mask off breathing heavily trying to slow down his heart as he lean back to the wall,hundreds of thoughts running through his head before he stands up “I need to get back home!”He runs and jump from the rooftop swing himself away.
“Miles! Wait!”You stand up try to catch up to him but the pain on your left leg makes you limping before swing your web following him. Miles keep on swinging as fast as he can to his house,to find his dad,his mom. You follow behind him trying to get his attention from doing anything irrational.
Miles stick outside of the wall of his room opening the window and went inside, his heart racing as he take in deep breaths. You swing towards the window and you yelped as you landed on your injured leg holding yourself up on the wall, just as you climb in you heard the knob to the door turn you reach for anything nearby to cover your suit,a sweater. You grip the sweater together tightly trying your best to cover your suit.
The door to the room open slightly follow by a voice, “Miles?”
You and Miles look at the door, to see his mom holding a laundry basket in her other hand,she look at her son.Rio look confuse to see her son but Miles desperate voice make her even worried.
“Mom..there is something coming for us,somethin terrible”Miles says
“Miles you’re talking crazy whats going on?”Rio walk closer to her son her eyes keep darting towards you.
Miles continue “His name is Spot…he is our nemesis, and we gonna stop him. I know you know…we been lying to you,it’s because that I knew…you won’t love me the same. You won’t look at (N/N) the same way too. Then I went out there and..now im not afraid of anything”
“What do you wanna tell me?”Rio ask her son.
“You gotta promise nothing’s gonna change mom”
“Papa I will always love you”
“You gotta promise”Miles desperately says
“Always,I don’t care what you said,Tu me tiendes?”Rio walks closer to him and hold one of his hand trying to reasure her son.
Miles pull away from her before he turn to the side readying himself to do this, he sigh “Mom” and pull the zip down turning to his mom. “I'm spider-man”he pull his jacket apart showing his mom his spider suit. “A-and (Y/N) is also the spider-man/spider-woman”
Rio just look at her son in confusion before she ask “W-Who’s Spider-man?”
You frown slightly as you are witnessing everything unfold,surely everyone in Brooklyn knows who you guys are. Every news and thousands of video on YouTube telling the world about the spider duo shoving the information to every.single.person.
“And who is (Y/N)?”she ask again tilting her head slightly looking at her son.
The moment she ask that you are stun,your eyes widened again looking through the window,are you hearing this right?. You blink a few times before, keeping your eyes at the familiar woman in front of you yet something in your gut is telling you she is not the same woman who would give you hug and kiss your forehead.
she let out a chuckle before giving his son a small smile “Miles you been keeping a secret of having a partner from me hm?”she turns to walk out of the room with the laundry basket in her hand.
Your spider sense goes off as you watch this woman who look exactly like your mama Rio,your brows knitted together watching Miles run out of his room following his ‘mom’ to the living room trying his best to explain.
You stuck at your spot,with your thoughts run haywire at what is happening,why she doesn’t remember you?, why she acts like you never met?, why does her aura feel different?
You shake your head,you need to focus. You keep watching as Miles is talking to his ‘mom’ before both of your attention drawn to the sound of a door knob unlocking at the main entrance of the house.
You press yourself closer peeking through the window still confuse while Miles seems to figure out what is happening looking scared at the door.
The door open to reveal, Aaron Davis. Miles supposedly dead uncle “U-uncle Aaron?” Miles mumble looking at the familiar figure walking through the door. Your eyes widen seeing the familiar figure walk infront of the open door, Uncle Aaron?. Your eyes darted to Miles,he look like he is seeing a ghost from the past then it all click in your head. You are in a different place, a place with no Spider-man to protect, a completely different dimension…you’re in a dimension of where the spider that bit Miles originally came from. Earth-42.
“Oh my god…”you mumble to yourself pressing yourself to the wall looking up at the sky mumbling “Shit…shit,shit”
You gulp as the anxious feeling and fear grip your throat like a choke hold. How in the hell you and Miles are going to get out of this? You see Uncle Aaron push Miles away slightly making a comment about him taking out his braids?
Miles turning his head making eye contact,you can see It in his eyes. He is scared. He turn his head to his uncle following him out of the house climbing up the stairs.
You crawl up the wall following them as in your head is screaming something is wrong,everything is. Both of you are in danger. You pull yourself up hiding behind the many scraps and metal on top of the rooftop keeping an eyes on Miles. As you walk further to the front your eyes looking around the place before you discover something even more heart breaking…on the wall Is a graffiti Of Jefferson Davis with a writing of ‘Rest in Power’.
Your heart starting to beat faster fear grips you fully, your head snap towards Miles just to see him got knocked out falling straight to the floor.
“Miles!”you jumped out from where you hide swinging your web to his body to pull him to you, to run. But your web got cut by a flashing purple,whatever it is that thing is fast. You ready yourself shooting out both of your web at it but the thing catches it pulling you to it before your head is punch with something metal. Your body flew back but you got yourself on your knee shaking your head to get rid of the ringing in your ears. You push forward charging at where its standing over Miles but suddenly something stinging comes from the back of your neck you hiss reaching your hand to pull whatever it is. It’s a fucking sleeping dart, shit you though to yourself but you try to walk to Miles body but you starting to see double and everything is swaying from side to side. You fall to your hand and knees fighting the urge to pass out.
The figure came closer to you kneeling down to your level lifting your head by gripping your chin to look at the purple Mask before a distorted voice says “duerme, arañita”your head slips from his hand landing on the floor pass out.
Uncle Aaron walk towards the two limp body before saying “A fierce one ay?”picking up Miles body and moves to the other one.
“No,I’ll take this one”the figure says before move to pick the limp body slinging it over his shoulder and walk towards the hideout. Aaron shrug and follows them inside.
(Timeskip a few hours later)
You blink as you slowly gaining conscious, you try to move your hands but it stop by a chain that is hanging you up on the ceiling making your feet hover a few inches off the ground. You struggle in your bind hopping it to lose or break but of course,it didn’t. You try to press on to your web shooter but to find nothing is on your wrist, shit they take your web shooter.
“Dont even try, little spider”You snap your head to the figure who is wearing a neon mask that illuminates in the darkness. The figure walks closer to you,he walks slowly around you taking in the details of what you are. You are the same as the other one,a spider.
“What did you do to Miles”you hiss out through your teeth trying to look intimidating at the figure,the figure let out a whistle as he stands infront of you. “Calm down,heh it’s not that you can do anything without your web no?”He reply with a clear smug.
“I can take you down just fine with or without the web”you glare at the mask,the stupid neon mask that is mocking you. “Maybe you open that stupid mask of yours so I can fuck your face up like a pulp”
The guy chuckle before saying “You first little spider”he reaches his hand on top of your head gripping your mask. You try to move away your head but its useless as the figure rip your mask off revealing your face glaring at him.
Him on the other hand,didn’t expect to see such face staring back at him. The fire in your eyes staring right into his soul, it sparks something in him. He take a good look of how your lips are shaped,how your hair framing your face. He is stunned,shame that you,re with ‘him’.
“Open yours,what you’re scared now?”you taunting him when you see him just staring at you. The guy chuckle before he open his mask looking at you with a smirk on his lips.
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