Alastor x F!deer!princess!reader (Charlie Morningstar's twin)
Chapter Three: Where the Music Hides the Static
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Summary: Y/N meets Alastor again, this time in a lively New Orleans speakeasy. Jazz, whiskey, and whispered conversation set the stage as two sharp minds test one another. Curiosity deepens, tension lingers, and something unspoken begins to take shape between them.
warnings: Prohibition-era setting, Speakeasy / illegal alcohol, Alcohol consumption, Smoking / cigarette smoke, Dark themes, Psychological tension, Power dynamics, Manipulation undertones, Morally gray characters, Foreshadowing of death / damnation, Slow-burn tension
New Orleans after midnight felt less like a city and more like a living thing.
It breathed in humid currents that rolled off the Mississippi, exhaled music through cracked windows and cellar doors, and pulsed with a heartbeat made of laughter, secrets, and contraband liquor. Prohibition had not silenced the city — it had sharpened it. What was forbidden simply learned to move underground.
The tailor shop on Dauphine Street looked unremarkable from the outside. Bolts of fabric sat in the window display. A “Closed” sign hung politely in the glass. But those who knew the rhythm of the door — three measured knocks, a pause, two more — were welcomed into something warmer.
Y/N stepped inside without hesitation.
The air below was thick with cigarette smoke and amber light. Brass sconces flickered against velvet wallpaper, and the low ceiling amplified the trumpet’s bright cry from the small stage in the corner. A pianist leaned into his keys with fervor while a double bass thrummed steadily beneath it all, giving the room its pulse.
She paused only long enough to take in the scene.
Men in suspenders and loosened ties leaned over small round tables. Women in silk dresses laughed behind gloved hands. A couple near the stage danced as though the law did not exist. Whiskey flowed openly despite the Constitution’s objections.
Y/N moved through it gracefully, unhurried and entirely self-possessed. She selected a table in the far corner — back to the wall, full view of the room — and removed her gloves with deliberate care before ordering a glass of whiskey.
Neat.
She did not drink for pleasure. She did not drink for courage. She drank because it made her unremarkable.
The glass had barely touched her lips when the entrance door opened again.
The shift was subtle, but she felt it instantly.
The air tightened, as though someone had adjusted a dial. A faint ripple passed through the crowd — recognition, admiration. Not fear. Not yet.
She did not look up immediately.
She already knew who it was.
Across the room, fresh from the radio station and still carrying the invisible electricity of applause, stood Alastor.
He looked immaculate, as always. His red suit was sharply pressed, his posture straight, his smile perfectly measured — not exaggerated, not forced. A few patrons greeted him enthusiastically. Someone mentioned enjoying that evening’s broadcast. He acknowledged them all with polished charm, nodding, laughing lightly, deflecting praise with practiced ease.
He enjoyed being seen.
He enjoyed being heard more.
His eyes swept the room in a casual scan — and stopped.
Recognition sparked instantly.
He crossed toward her table with an ease that suggested inevitability rather than coincidence.
“You appear in the most intriguing corners of this city,” he said smoothly as he reached her.
Y/N lifted her gaze at last, meeting his eyes without surprise. “And you,” she replied, her tone even and unhurried, “seem to be everywhere at once.”
His smile deepened. “Ah, the miracle of modern technology. A voice can travel farther than a body ever could.”
“And yet here you are,” she observed.
“And yet here I am.”
He gestured politely toward the empty chair across from her. “May I?”
She regarded him for a moment longer than was socially necessary, as though weighing something unseen. Then she inclined her head slightly.
“You may.”
He sat, folding his hands neatly atop the table. For a few seconds, neither spoke. The music swelled and dipped around them, and the smoke between them curled lazily toward the ceiling.
“You’ve been listening,” he said at last.
“Occasionally.”
“Only occasionally?” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “That is devastating to hear.”
“I prefer to observe,” she replied, lifting her glass. “Voices reveal more than faces.”
“And what has mine revealed?”
She studied him thoughtfully before answering. “Ambition. Control. A fondness for performance.”
He did not deny it. Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, clearly entertained.
“And what do you observe now?” he asked.
“That you enjoy the sound of your own influence.”
A quiet laugh left him. “Influence is a delightful thing. It requires no force. Only persuasion.”
“Force is crude,” she agreed softly.
Something in her tone caused his gaze to sharpen.
He had expected flirtation. Perhaps a little mystique. He had not expected alignment.
“And you,” he said carefully, “do not seem fond of crudeness.”
“No,” she replied. “Precision is more efficient.”
The waitress approached, nervous but professional. Alastor ordered another round without consulting her. Y/N did not protest this time; she simply watched him.
“You assume generously,” she remarked once the waitress had left.
“I invest where I see potential.”
“And what potential do you see here?”
He did not hesitate. “Conversation.”
That answer pleased her more than she expected.
They spoke at length then — not hurriedly, not in short exchanges, but with the measured rhythm of two people testing the depth of one another’s minds. He spoke of radio — of the thrill of speaking into a microphone and knowing thousands might be listening. Of shaping tone, shaping narrative, shaping perception.
She listened with quiet intensity.
“Do you ever tire of it?” she asked. “Of performing?”
He considered the question seriously. “Performance is not tiring,” he replied. “It is exhilarating. One must simply ensure the audience never sees what lies behind the curtain.”
“And what lies behind yours?”
His grin returned, but this time it was thinner.
“That would ruin the show.”
She held his gaze steadily. “I doubt it.”
That unsettled him — though he did not show it.
There was something about her composure that made him feel, for the first time in years, slightly observed rather than observing. It was not accusatory. It was not threatening. It was simply aware.
“You are not from here,” he said after a moment.
“No.”
“And yet you seem perfectly at ease.”
“I adapt.”
“To every city?”
“To every era.”
He caught that word immediately.
“Era?”
She did not clarify. Instead, she took a slow sip of her drink.
The band shifted into something slower, more intimate. Couples drifted toward the dance floor as the lighting softened further.
Alastor rose smoothly from his chair and extended his hand.
“Dance with me.”
This time it was not a command.
It was an invitation laced with genuine curiosity.
She regarded his hand, then placed hers in it.
He led with confidence but not arrogance. His movements were precise, calculated — every step intentional. His hand rested at her waist, steady and warm.
She felt his heartbeat through the fabric between them.
Human.
Finite.
She knew only one truth about him: when he died, he would descend to Hell. That was certain. It was the nature of the soul he carried — sharp, clever, and stained.
But she did not know when that would happen. She did not know how. She did not know what would become of him there.
And unexpectedly, she realized she did not want to know yet.
“You are quiet,” he murmured as they turned.
“I am thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
That answer pleased him more than he cared to admit.
“And what conclusion have you reached?”
“That you enjoy control,” she said, her voice steady. “But you are careful about how you exercise it.”
His eyes narrowed slightly — not in anger, but in interest.
“You think I am careful?”
“Yes.”
“And what would happen,” he asked softly, “if I stopped being careful?”
She met his gaze without flinching.
“I suspect the city would tremble.”
A slow smile spread across his face.
He did not deny it.
The song drew to a close, but neither moved immediately. There was a suspended moment between them — something unspoken but undeniable.
At last, he stepped back.
“May I walk you home?” he asked.
“You may,” she said.
They stepped into the humid night air together, the city alive around them. Streetlamps cast long shadows across the pavement as they walked side by side, not touching but close enough to feel one another’s presence.
He found himself unusually thoughtful.
She found herself unexpectedly… invested.
Neither called it attraction.
Not yet.
But something had shifted.
The curiosity of their first meeting had deepened into something more deliberate. He would seek her out again — not for novelty, but for understanding.
And she, though she had lived far longer than he could imagine, found herself wondering how long this fragile, mortal chapter might last before inevitability claimed it.
And for the first time in many years, Alastor did not feel entirely in control of the narrative.
For now, however, there was only music echoing faintly behind them and the beginning of something neither fully understood.
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Tag list: @moonluna07 @youthinkaboutme-yourradiodemon @animesimp420
Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say.
Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.
When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you.
Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them.
Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”
Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was.
“Who are you?”
“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”
“That depends. Who are you?”
“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”
Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for.
However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”
You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”
“Okay, fine. What are you?”
You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”
“Alright, listen bub-”
“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”
Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”
Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up.
“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”
After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with;
“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”
He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway.
Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that.
But he still had questions.
Unanswered questions.
Like who the hell were you?
A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again.
In the kitchens.
The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad.
Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies.
And somehow
It was relaxing to him.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you.
“Err, no. I was just-”
“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”
“I don’t really drink..tea.”
Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers.
You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove.
“Here, try this.”
“Oh, I, uh-”
“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink.
And he did.
“Is this where you work?”
You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out.
“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”
You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”
“Am I disturbing you?”
“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”
Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”
You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”
Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea.
“Hey, what’s in this tea?”
“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”
Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy.
“Hey, what did you put in this?”
Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish.
Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear.
Then he jerked up.
With a grunt, he looked around him.
He was in his room.
The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen.
Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination.
The Professor’s office.
Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm.
“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”
“What the hell happened?”
“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”
Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office.
“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”
Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him.
“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”
Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”
Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”
“Are you always this blunt?”
You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”
“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”
“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”
Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”
“She started it!”
You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”
With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door.
“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”
“Have to admit, though. I did help.”
Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had.
Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you.
Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with.
But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you.
Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things.
It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.
Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears.
“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence.
“Are you going to drug me again?”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”
“Really, like what?”
Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”
“They actually sell this stuff?”
You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”
Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it.
Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”
Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness.
“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”
“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”
You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”
“Will you?”
“Will I do what?”
“Go to bed, too?”
You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”
“What are you even doing?”
“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”
Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again.
“Okay, fine.”
And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep.
The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it.
Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt.
You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did.
He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you.
More so, when he saw your shoulder.
From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up.
Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night.
“New recipe?”
You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”
“Better luck next time.”
And then you both just…talked.
You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet.
“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”
You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked.
“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”
It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.
“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”
Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it.
Until the day he found you napping on the sofa.
Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas.
The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed.
And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor.
“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”
Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you.
Fast asleep.
He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you.
Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point.
Hell, even he needed sleep.
But you were just constantly forever going.
Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second.
You were fast asleep.
Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while.
Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision.
You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up.
Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again.
He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for.
A heavy blanket.
He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace.
Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered.
He turned around but you were still.
Then you whimpered again.
“No,” you whispered.
Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again.
He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away.
Except you reached out for his hand.
Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep.
But it didn’t look like it was a good dream.
You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out.
Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room.
A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor.
Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him.
“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly.
“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”
Your head shifted. You were searching.
“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”
“L…Logan?”
The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.
He was shocked. Maybe…
“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”
The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened.
And glowed.
They were still your eyes just…brighter.
“Logan?!”
He had stopped speaking. You were panicking.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”
The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again.
Then everything stopped.
Everything went silent.
Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved.
Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,”
You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare.
“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”
He took you by your shoulders then your face.
“It’s Logan.”
You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him.
“Logan,” you breathed.
“Yeah…”
Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling.
“What happened?”
“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”
You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest.
Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand.
“What happened?”
You shook your head. “Nothing-”
“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”
You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged.
Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed.
“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”
“So what happened?”
“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”
“And that’s what the nightmares…”
You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”
You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever.
Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”
You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget.
“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”
Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going.
“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”
“Was he the one that-”
You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”
“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”
You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”
The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed.
“I just can’t.”
Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.
“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”
“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”
You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile.
“Don’t let them win.”
You nodded, your head still in his hands.
“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”
It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him.
“You don’t-”
“I can stay.”
You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile.
Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him.
“Thank you for staying.”
It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea.
Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”
You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist.
As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing.
The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep.
Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months.
From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room.
And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed.
Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him.
Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time.
And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter.
Because Logan already knew.
And so did you.
And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him.
He is gold and muted brown—a steady glow that thumps like a heartbeat… it crackles, tumbles over itself, like it’s in a rush to get somewhere but doesn’t know where yet.
She can see him better then anyone can, yet she is not petrified at the sight of his snake. She sees past them, sees the life force, the unnatural air and sounds that create their world.
They are the perfect match. Aether and Stone. Best friends at first sight.
There haven't been Aethersers since the time of the gods. For some unknown reason, Weems denied her entrance into Evermore, and Dort immediately accepted her admission. This is a series of oneshots. Requests encouraged. Writings may be out of order but will be organized here.
The Wrong Note August 9, 2025
I need more Ajax please, help! Comment requests of send asks (can be out of this series too)
Summary: You need Bob to get revenge on those who turned you into a dangerous weapon. Only a few things stand in your way: the lack of cooperation from his new team, aka the New Avengers, and the fact that, somehow, he seems to bring out the best in you.
Author's note: I’m not sure if this fanfic will continue. If you enjoy it, please comment, reblog, and like. If not, just ignore it.
ao3 link two
ONE
Another day, another target to be claimed. This has been your life since you were created. No parents, no family, at least none you remember. You were engineered in a laboratory to be a weapon, perfectly shaped, capable of defeating an army or perhaps taking down a small group of heroes. But something went wrong with you. There is a wildness within, a lack of control, that makes you lethal even to those who try to exert control over you.
The only person who ever understood you was the other test subject, used in experiments by a group of lunatics attempting to create what you now recognize as an indestructible superhero devoid of free will, a mannequin. His name was Bob. He appeared years after you were made. Some of the scientists who toyed with modifying you both claimed he was being designed to be what you were not. Others said he existed to be a match for you. It did not matter. He was kind in the rare moments when you two could even share a connection.
“Miss, what are you doing here?” A man, probably a security guard, moved quickly toward you as soon as you failed to identify yourself after infiltrating the ultra-fancy hero headquarters, which you could not care less about.
“I want to enter this beautiful building and retrieve something that belongs to me, if you’ll allow me,” you murmur, passing through the metal detector and stepping inside as several other guards follow closely behind.
“Miss, if you do not take a step back, we will be forced to restrain you,” one of the guards says in an authoritative tone.
“Gentlemen, do not be foolish. If I am willing to ignore your weapons pointed at me, it is clear I have the power to make you regret wasting my time. I suggest you take the chance to run while you still can,” you warn, adjusting the sleeve of your coat as you wait for them to lower their weapons.
One of them fires at you, a stun gun. When you remain unaffected by the waves of energy striking your skin, they seem to falter. “Surrender!” one of the guards shouts. He is carrying a lethal weapon, the kind humans used to kill one another.
“With pleasure,” you reply, and with a movement of your hands, you use the shock waves that hit you to strike the guards. Redirecting enemy attacks is one of the powers granted to you. The guards writhe on the floor as you snatch an access card from one of them. Fewer victims, more efficiency. That is your goal.
You can sense Bob somewhere among the many floors. An alarm blares, alerting everyone to your presence. So it will be on hard mode, then.
Finally, you reach a floor where a group of people is gathered. Probably the bumbling heroes. “Who are you?” a short-haired blonde woman asks, appearing ready for physical combat. “It does not matter, dear,” you reply as you step onto their floor. Something tells you Bob is nearby. Everyone seems poised to strike.
“What do you want?” An attractive man with a heavy burden of past traumas and a striking pair of blue eyes steps directly in front of you, as if to act as a shield. “At the moment, only what belongs to me. But perhaps another day, it could be you,” you say softly, as if his attempt to intimidate you has no effect.
Suddenly, an attack comes your way. A man in a ridiculous, over-the-top costume tries to ambush you. You throw him aside as if he weighs nothing. “Surely someone should have taught you to be more welcoming to your visitors,” you say, using your powers to send a wave of pain from your hands, forcing everyone to make pained sounds, at least everyone in that room.
But while you watched them, you heard someone step out of a door, as if completely unaware of what was happening. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. Someone clogged the sink, it took me longer than usual to—” Bob finally looked around.
“Bob, your hair has grown,” you murmur as you move toward him, a faint sense of joy rising at the sight of him.
“Y/N?” he asks, watching as you approach quickly. You look at him, your hand brushing against his face, as if trying to recall the time when you were both test subjects together.
“I thought you were dead,” you murmur, touching him and noticing a certain hesitation in the way he accepts your closeness.
“Are you the cause of this?” he asks, pointing at the fools lying on the floor.
You cease using your powers to inflict pain. “Surprised?” you ask as he begins to grasp the extent of your abilities.
“You should not hurt others like this,” Bob says, his voice carrying the weight of a reprimand.
You look at him carefully, realizing that perhaps this time apart has turned him into someone less familiar to you. “You used to stand by me,” you say with an awkward smile, finding it almost amusing that now he has people he cares for more than he cares for you. “But I suppose this time apart has made us strangers to one another,” you murmur as you hold his gaze.
The expression on his face carries a mixture of emotions, as though he feels guilty of your arrival yet at the same time relieved to see you. “You didn’t need all this just to see me. We could go somewhere, sit down and talk like—” Bob begins, but he is interrupted when one of his friends rises and approaches, trying to restrain you with a metal arm.
“Bucky, you shouldn’t have done that,” Bob says as you break free from the man he calls Bucky, unleashing your power to shine. Yes, one of your abilities is to glow with the intensity of the sun, which also causes your body to radiate unbearable heat, bringing discomfort to anyone nearby—Bucky included.
As he lets go, nearly blinded, you cease your power for a moment. “I didn’t come here to invite you for coffee. I came to take you with me,” you say, moving toward Bob, who has fallen to his knees under the sheer magnitude of your abilities.
“They are my family,” Bob says, his voice strained as he tries to steady himself on the floor, still weakened by the force of your powers.
“I was once everything you had,” you say, standing close to him as he struggles to rise. He looks up at you while still on his knees, gazing at you as though you were a deity. You look back at him as if willing him to come of his own accord, to accept calmly the proposal of being with you. Not out of your whim, but because together you are stronger, just as you were shaped to be.
“You need me,” he declares, as if finally understanding that you will not relent in taking him with you. And indeed, you do need him—to exact your vengeance.
“Do everyone a favor and come with me,” you tell him, meeting his pale eyes with unwavering firmness.
He lifts his hand, taking yours, and then says, “I will go with you, if you do not harm anyone else.” His voice trembles slightly, caught between loyalty to those he calls family and the undeniable bond he still feels with you. For a moment, the chaos around you fades, leaving only the weight of his choice pressing down on both of you.
“Bob, don’t go with her, we can fight,” the blonde woman says as she rises from the floor. He looks at her while leaning on you for support to stand.
“Yelena, it will be better this way,” he finally seems to accept that he will leave with you.
“Do not worry, I fully expect you to come after us,” you say as you walk past Bob’s new family lying broken and weakened across the floor.
“We will come for you, and we will take Bob back,” Bucky mutters as he slowly forces himself upright, his metal arm sparking faintly from the heat of your power.
You turn to face him, your eyes burning with defiance, as you and Bob move toward the exit. The alarm still blares, red emergency lights bathing the corridor in a frantic glow. “Oh, pretty boy, I’ll be waiting. But come prepared, because if you interfere with me again, I will kill every last one of you,” you warn, your voice echoing like a promise of doom.
With a surge of energy, you unleash your power, shattering the glass windows at the end of the hall. Wind and smoke rush inward as you pull Bob close, your arm wrapping firmly around him. The heat radiating from your body makes the air shimmer, distorting the light around you like the edge of a star.
You step onto the ledge, the city sprawling far below. For one last moment, you lock eyes with the heroes behind you, their faces twisted in pain and fury. Then, without hesitation, you launch yourself into the night sky, tearing free from the building in a blaze of light.
The alarms fade into silence as you ascend higher, carrying Bob with you, leaving nothing behind but broken walls and the bitter certainty that this is far from over.
You were banished for the danger you posed — not to Asgard, but to him. Before Loki’s fall, you were everything he wasn’t meant to have: powerful, unafraid, and bound to him by something deeper than magic. Now, years later, you're summoned home… and find him alive, unchanged, and burning in your veins like he never left. You knew his magic by touch. And the moment you feel it again — you remember everything.
Loki x powerful fem!sorcerer!reader
You hadn’t stepped foot in Asgard in over three years.
Not since the battle that nearly burned your hands to ash. Not since Odin’s command stripped you of your title and sent you to exile in the outer realms — too wild, too unpredictable, too close to the second son.
Not since Loki "died."
But now you were back. Summoned in silence. The High Council needed your knowledge of ancient magic — dark magic — the kind that moved in riddles and bled through veils.
You should have refused.
You didn’t.
And now, walking through the golden halls again — older, sharper, still half-haunted by your past — you felt it.
Not the palace. Not the court.
Him.
His magic slid over your skin before you reached the library doors. Cold, calculated. Familiar like a scar.
You paused in the archway. He was already waiting. Leaning against the far window, backlit in fading sunlight, dressed in black and green as if time had never moved.
But it had.
And so had you.
“I thought you were dead,” you said.
Loki didn’t turn. “A popular belief.”
“You let me grieve.”
“I let you live.”
That made you flinch. Because it was true.
Back then — before the chaos, before his fall — you’d been more than aligned. He had shown you magic without boundaries. You had shown him how it could be shaped by something other than pain. Together, you were devastating.
And dangerous.
Odin saw it. He separated you first. Banished you after.
And Loki? He let it happen.
Until he vanished. Until the stars whispered he was gone.
You moved further into the library. He watched you now — silent, unreadable.
“I thought of you,” he said. “In the dark places.”
You swallowed. “I didn’t think you could.”
He stepped closer. The air around you shifted. Your magic responded before you could stop it — rising like heat, reaching for his.
“I never stopped,” he said, quieter now. “I tried. I tried to forget how your power felt.”
You shook your head. “You never knew how to feel it. You only ever took.”
“No,” Loki said, voice raw. “Not you. I let you see it.”
He was in front of you now. The energy between your bodies sang — old magic, threaded with memory.
“You knew my magic by touch,” he whispered. “You always did.”
Your throat tightened. “And I felt it leave me the night they dragged me away.”
His hand lifted — slow, uncertain. But you didn’t pull back. Not this time.
Fingers brushed your jaw.
The connection struck instantly.
The threads of your magic tangled with his in the space between breaths — hot and cold, memory and grief, power and want. You saw flashes behind your eyes: the night you first touched, your hands pressed together over a spell too old to be named; his voice in your mind during your exile, calling your name like prayer.
Tears stung your eyes. You hadn’t meant to let them.
“I would’ve destroyed them for you,” he said, shaking now. “If you’d asked.”
“I didn’t want destruction,” you whispered. “I wanted you.”
His lips hovered close, breath shallow.
“Then take me now. Not as I was. As I am.”
You kissed him.
And gods — it wasn’t careful.
It was raw. Desperate. Years of absence unraveling in seconds. His hands tangled in your robes, your fingers gripping his collar like he might vanish again. Magic flared around you — runes glowing in the walls, scrolls rattling on shelves.
It wasn’t just love. It was recognition.
When you pulled back, your foreheads touched, breath mingling.
“I never stopped being yours,” you whispered.
“I knew that,” he said. “I felt it. Every time I reached for magic, I felt you.”
And he kissed you again, like you were the only spell he couldn’t undo.
Hi ^^
Could I Request A Yandere Frieza X A Female Demon Reader That Acts Like Cherri Bomb From Hazbin Hotel?
The Reader Is Known For Her Wild & Carefree Personality Who Takes Pleasure In Committing Various Crimes While Also Going Out Partying & Living Without Stressing Herself.
The Reader Encounters & Challenges Frieza Into A Fight Which Ended With Her Winning The Fight, At The Price Of Being The Obsession Of The Tyrant Which Intrigues The Reader & Thinks Is An Extended Game Of Cat & Mouse.
Hey there! Nice idea, sure!
The sky was on fire.
Not literally, though, given the cratered landscape and the burning ships scattered across the place, it was close enough. Earth hadn’t seen chaos like this since the Saiyan invasion.
Frieza’s soldiers littered the ground, some unconscious, some swearing vengeance, and some simply dead. And at the center of it all, laughing amid the destruction, was Y/N.
Hair matted by soot, grin splitting her face, she spun a shard of metal between her fingers like a toy. “That's all you’ve got?” she shouted toward the sky, voice carrying over the hum of falling debris. “I was just getting warmed up!”
A silence followed. Then, a slow, deliberate clap.
From the smoke, a figure emerged, pristine, polished, and very, very short calm.
“Ah,” Frieza drawled, floating down as if the chaos below was beneath his notice. “So this is the little savage who turned my landing squad into scrap metal.”
She tilted her head, smirking. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Frieza’s golden eyes narrowed. “You are bold. I’ll give you that. But tell me… what are you, exactly? Certainly not human, you're too strong, too reckless. Perhaps some half-bred Saiyan brat who thinks she’s clever?”
She flicked a bit of ash off her shoulder. “Labels are boring. I just like fighting. And explosions :D.”
The smirk that crossed his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “How quaint.”
He raised a finger. A sphere of crackling energy appeared, humming with lethal power. “Then let’s see how long your amusement lasts, shall we?”
---
The first blast tore through the air — but she was already gone, darting around him with a burst of energy. The ground split beneath the pressure.
She laughed, maniacally. “Finally! Someone who doesn’t bore me!”
Frieza’s expression remained neutral, but his attacks grew sharper, faster, tail snapping through the air, beams slicing through the smoke. Every time he thought he had her, she was somewhere else, kicking him square in the face, or tugging at his tail with a cheeky grin.
“You little—!”
“Careful, shiny,” she teased, ducking under his swing. “I’d hate to ruin that perfect face.”
Frieza’s aura flared, cold, deadly, weirdly beautiful. “You think you can mock me? I am Lord Frieza! Emperor of the Universe!”
She blew him a kiss. “Cute title. Does it come with a Burger King crown?”
The look on his face was worth the risk.
He struck harder, but she met him head-on, every move unpredictable, almost careless, but effective. Y/N fought like someone who enjoyed pain, chaos, and the thrill of nearly dying. It wasn’t strength that overwhelmed him; it was her absolute disregard for fear.
And when the dust settled, he was on one knee, eyes burning.
For a moment, Frieza didn’t move. Then, slowly, he began to laugh.
Low. Cold. Amused.
“Oh, my dear…” His voice was a silken thread. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
She shrugged. “Kicked your royal ass?”
He rose to his feet, smile widening, too calm, too composed for someone who’d just lost. “You’ve done far more than that. You’ve made yourself interesting for me.”
Y/N blinked. “...Huh?”
Frieza stepped forward, the air tightening with his ki. “You think this is over. You think you’ve won. But I don’t lose. Not truly. I adapt.”
He reached out, fingers just grazing her chin, before she swatted his hand away.
“Don’t touch me unless I say so, dude.”
That earned her a soft, almost affectionate chuckle. “Oh, I do enjoy your spirit. You’ll find that I’m not easily dissuaded, my dear.”
She tilted her head, amused despite the danger. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re actually into this.”
Frieza’s eyes glinted. “Into you. You’re chaos personified, the one thing this universe has never given me: something I cannot fully control.”
Y/N crossed her arms. “So… what, you’re gonna chase me around now? That’s your big villain plan?”
“Not chase,” he corrected, voice low and deliberate. “Claim you.”
Her laughter rang through the smoke. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
---
From that day, it was a war of a different kind.
He sent soldiers to “retrieve” her. She sent them to hell, leaving taunting messages scrawled into their armor. Sometimes, she let them catch her, only to escape halfway through Frieza’s little speeches, leaving him seething but oddly entertained.
Each encounter fed the fire. He’d appear suddenly, mid-party or mid-battle, smiling that eerie calm smile.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he’d say.
And she'd wink. “Jealous?”
His smile would darken. “You have no idea.”
But the truth was, she liked it. She liked the chase, the danger, the way his obsession burned like a star but never quite reached her. Y/N liked the power she had on him.
No one got under Frieza’s skin but her, and she did it laughing.
---
One night, Y/N stood on the edge of a ruined city, wind whipping her hair, the glow of his ship casting pale light over the rubble.
Frieza appeared behind her, silent as the grave.
“You run so well,” he murmured. “It almost makes me forget that you always come back.”
She turned, smirking. “Well, I do like the attention.”
His hand lifted, but not in attack. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, eyes gleaming with a strange, feverish tenderness.
“You belong nowhere,” he said softly. “You thrive in chaos. So do I. We could rule it together, you and I. Destroy, rebuild, repeat. Eternally.”
She met his gaze, unflinching, daring. “Tempting offer. But where’s the fun if I just say yes?”
He smiled. “Then don’t. Keep running. I’ll always find you.”
She grinned, stepping back toward the flames. “I’m counting on it.”
And with that, Y/N vanished into the smoke, laughter echoing behind her, wild and untamed.
Frieza watched the empty space for a long moment, smile fading into something darker.
“Oh, my dear,” he murmured. “You’ve no idea what you’ve started.”
⚠️Warning- This story contains mentions of violence/sexual themes, so skip the parts if they make you very uncomfortable. Story will get a bit steamy towards the end ⚠️
"ENOUGH!!" A loud voice boomed from behind the two. Valentino jumped and glared past his shoulder, finding you standing there, glaring with immense rage. Angel looked on you in shock, wondering how the heck you got in here. Valentino let go of Angel's neck, causing him to sink to the floor, gasping for breath. "How the flying f✪✪✪ did you get in here?!" Valentino sneered at you, standing up to his full height. Trying to suck in a breath, Angel stared at you, eyes watering from the tears. He extended his hand out to you. "Y-Y/N! Its okay. Get outta here!" Begging you with his voice, he didn't want you to suffer at the hands of his boss. Stepping closer to Valentino, you glared into his eyes, icy blue irises flaming with anger. "Angel is coming with me right now!" Guffawing with laughter, Valentino bent over holding his stomach, amused at your words. "Oh this is priceless. You seem not to know who you are messing with, little b✪✪✪✪?" Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave an evil chuckle: "Let me show you exactly who I am."
A cool breeze began to blow through the whole room, shocking Valentino as he was wondering what the hell was going on. Icicles began to arise from the area where you stood, traveling across the room and towards the ceiling. The air turned cold, deadly, even taking in a breath felt like a stab in the throat. Valentino was in utter disbelief at your show of power. Blue ice began to appear on your hands, morphing into frozen claws. The color of your hair turned snow-white, and your once brown eyes, began to glow an ominous cerulean blue. Angel wrapped his arms around himself, trying to cover himself from the coldness, while staring at you in utter shock. An evil smile emerged from your face, almost as demonic as Alastors during his transformations, as you walked slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, towards Valentino. "Figured out who I am yet?" Cocking your head at Valentino, you stared up at him, amused at his reactions. Dread emerged from his eyes, as Valentino realized you were not to mess with, but his tendencies got the better of him and he moved to strike. In a split second, he was pinned against the wall, shards of ice impaling his wing. Attempting to break free was impossible, your shards were too strong. "HAHA its amazing how many people try that and fail!" Your feet carried you over to the pinned moth, enjoying his struggle. "Who the hell are you?!" he screamed out, trying to remove himself from his position. "I am the overlord, Morana! Still surprised you haven't caught that by now, but you are a dumba✪✪, so it was to be expected" A sharp tooth smile was etched onto your face. "As I said before Angel Dust is coming back to the hotel with me. Understand?" Valentino continued to stare at you in fear, before his signature smirk came back. "Fine, take him back! Won't do you any good! He is bound to me by contract. Sooner or later, he will come crawling back to me!"
Angel listened to all of this, still in shock by what was happening. Valentino's words affected him greatly, as tears rained down his cheeks. Your face lacked any emotion as you inched closer to Valentino. A large icicle claw raised towards his lower regions, where his privates were. "!!!!!" Valentino jerked, wondering what the heck was going on. The sharpness of your claws, were digging into his skin, while a trail of ice began to form around the area. "You must really value this part of yourself. It would be extremely traumatizing for you if it were to SNAP OFF!" Digging your claws deeper, a trail of blood began to pool down below you, then freezing the second it connected with the ground. "Imagine the headlines! Di✪✪ face Valentinos package removed violently and cascaded in a block of ice for all to see!" Your demonic laugh filled the room, as Valentino screamed in agony. "STOP! PLEASE I WILL DO ANYTHING!" Begging was his last resort, proving he valued his di✪✪ more than anything. "I will let go, under one condition." Valentino stared at you in fear, mixed with some hope. You leaned closer and whispered into his ear. "Dissolve the contract, along with the copies."
Widening his eyes in shock, Valentino jerked back, furious at your request, no way was he going to lose his money maker. Shrugging your shoulders at his response, you took a step back. "Suit yourself." The claw began to elongate, cutting into his skin. Valentino screamed bloody murder, as he felt the sensation of the sharp icicles going in. "OKAY OKAY!!!" Valentino screamed out, causing you to stop. A glow appeared in front of the both of you, expanding to reveal a golden contract. There was a signature at the bottom: "Anthony", so that was Angel's real name. A demonic language began to spill from Val's lips and the contract began to rip before dissolving. "And the copies" Grunting, Val caused more glows of light to appear, performing the same ritual, and canceling all of the contracts. "Thats all of them." Valentino rasped out, as he stared down at the floor in defeat and utter humiliation. "Excellent!" Your claw removed itself from his flesh, blood continuing to drip from the area. You kept him pinned to the wall, a fitting punishment for someone like him. Moving closer you whispered into his ear. "If I ever see you near Angel again, hear you call his phone or threaten those he cares about. I will freeze your body and leave you out in the streets as a gift for the angels at the next extermination." Valentino whimpered in fear, nodding his head.
Moving away from him, your eyes gazed over at Angel, who was still crumpled on the floor. The ice around your hands began to disappear, and the frosted air began to clear, except for the ice shards holding Valentino. Getting on your knees in front of Angel, you asked if he was okay. Still shaking, Angel wasn't able to utter a word, but he nodded his head at you. Wrapping your arms around him, you lifted him up, bridal carrying him. Yes you were shorter then him, but you were still extremely strong. Angel remained silent, his head nuzzling into your neck, as he wrapped his arms around you. The both of you left the room, leaving the pathetic insect behind. Charlie spotted you holding Angel, as you left the dressing room. She insisted on knowing what happened, but you told her not to worry, and that it was time to head back to the hotel, as Angel was injured as well. Charlie nodded and the both of you left the establishment.
The shock on everyone's face when they saw you carrying Angel Dust, through the doors of the Hotel. The bombardment of questions came flooding at you, but Charlie was able to quiet them down. Pointing at Husk, you told him to help carry Angel Dust back to his room, and draw him a bath as well, seeing as he was still shaking. Husk complied and took Angel from you, carrying him to his room. Niffty ran to the kitchen, going to make some food and tea for Angel. Charlie went to Vaggie and calmed her down, as she was fuming that someone hurt Angel. Heaving a deep breath, you placed your hands against your face, trying to calm down as your emotions were still running high. Alastor was the only one who was still with you in the lobby, observing you while cocking his head. His smile was still there, but his eyes were expressing concern, especially having seen you and a bruised Angel. "Y/N my dear? Care to fill me in on what happened?" He approached you, gazing down at you, waiting for your response. Heaving a sigh, you looked up at Alastor and explained everything that transpired at Valentino's club. "Despite what I did, I'm aware there is going to be consequences with my actions since I just injured one of the three Vee's. If they plot something, I will show force and defend this hotel and everyone in it." Red irises continued to gaze at you, locking on to your determined eyes. Al placed his hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, you saved Angel, and he must be very grateful that you did! I doubt the other Vee's will even attempt anything unless they want to suffer your icy wrath and m̵̹̌̔͠i̷̪̼͙̅̀͗͆n̷̫̮̻̲͑͒̍̈́̔͜ė̴̠̯̮̩͂̐͘͝!"Demonic symbols appeared in the air before they disappeared.
Smiling at Al, you thanked him for making you feel better. Alastor smiled back at you, placing his hands behind his back. "Now then! I'm pretty sure there is a certain someone that you want to check on! Best be off now, my dear!" Alastor snapped his fingers. Your body then was teleported from the lobby to the door of Angel's room. Entering inside, You spotted Husk sitting on the bed, appearing sad. Husk's ears twitched, seeing that you had entered the room. "Hey kid, Angel is in the bathtub. I would be cautious though, he is a bit on edge." Husk said, while walking towards you. Thanking Husk, you told him it was okay to head back to the lobby. Husk nodded as he patted your head, before leaving Angels room.
Peeking your head into the bathroom, you tried to spot Angel. Steam filled the room, and in the center was Angel, sitting in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. His head was against his legs as he was hugging them with his many arms. Slowly approaching, you sat near the edge of the tub, next to him. "Angel? Are you alright?" Eyeing him, you wanted to make sure he was ok with you getting closer, as you placed a hand on his back. "Why?" was what you heard from Angel, as his face was still muffled between his legs. Tilting your head, you asked him why what? "WHY DID YOU DO THAT FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME?! I DON'T DESERVE TO BE SAVED!" Angel bursted all of this out, his eyes staring back at you angrily. "I wanted to help you Angel. What was I suppose to do, let you get abused by that psychopath?" Angel scoffed at you. "I'm use to dealing with his bull✪✪✪✪. I never asked you to do all that stuff." Getting angry, you grabbed Angel and pinned him to the wall, splashing some water on to the ground, forcing him to look at you. "YOU MAY NOT HAVE TOLD ME TO DO ANYTHING, BUT YOUR EYES CLEARLY DID!! YOU WERE TERRIFIED OF HIM, OF VALENTINO! I SAW YOUR FACE WHEN YOU ANSWERED THE PHONE AND WHEN CHARLIE AND I WERE AT THE STUDIO! YOU LOOKED COMPLETELY TRAUMATIZED! I CHOSE TO SAVE YOU BECAUSE YOU DESERVED BETTER THEN THIS AND I CARE ABOUT YOU! YOU DIDN'T DESERVE ALL THAT TRAUMA, ANTHONY! NONE OF IT!" Angel stared at you, listening to you belt out all of this to him and calling him by his true name. The tears came flooding back, as Angel started to break down in front of you. Letting go, you grabbed him into a hug, comforting him. You apologized for having to pin him like that but he needed to listen to you.
Angel continued to cry, his makeup combining with the tears, dropping down into the soapy water. You moved your hand to his back, rubbing comforting circles into it. "I'm too far gone to be saved toots. Valentino has me so drugged up on his poison and bull✪✪✪✪. He knows I'm gonna come crawling back to him. Ready to chug down on his poison like a fuc✪✪✪ addict." Angel had let you go, going back to his previous position of hugging himself inside the tub. Placing your hand against his cheek, you motioned him to look at you. Angel questioned what you were doing, until lips locked onto his. Gasping, he wasn't expecting a kiss from you. You kissed him softly, almost afraid that if you went to far he would break. Melting into the kiss, Angel closed his eyes, pulling you closer towards him. The kiss lasted a minute before it came to an end, leaving you both gasping for breath. "What was the smooch for?" His white fur, was sporting a a bright pink, as he continued to take in breaths. "Antidote. If your so soaked up on Val's poison, then I will be your antidote." Angel stared at you, shocked at your statement towards him. "HAHAHAHAHAHA OMG TOOTS, YOUR SO FREAKING CORNY!" His smile had returned to his face, as he exploded in laughter in front of you. His laughter was contagious, and soon you followed after him.
The laughing session soon quieted down, and the both of you stared at each other. Angel eyes were gazing at you softly, moving one of his hands to trace your lips. "Could ya do it again?" Looking at him shocked, you continued to stare at him, as he continued to trace your lips. "Y-ou want me to kiss you again?" Angel responded by pulling you, placing you inside the tub and on his lap. "Yes." His eyes were looking at you lovingly, making your heart skip a beat. Moving slowly, you leaned in closer, capturing him in another kiss. The both of you moved in sync, moving slow and tenderly. His lips were like pillows, incredibly soft. This felt heavenly, giving you goosebumps and butterflies in your stomach. The both of you broke apart, string of saliva between your lips. Angel placed a hand on your cheek, moving to kiss your forehead. "Wanna continue this on the bed?" His voice whispered into your ear, sending chills down your back. You became tongue-tied, and responded to Angel by nodding your head.
Your back landed flat on the bed. Angel crawled onto it, hovering over you. His fur was still wet from the bath, as it was dripping on to you. He was beautiful, you thought as you continued to gaze at him. "Um Angel. You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm pretty sure your body is exhausted from work. Plus you prefer guys right, so you-" A finger was placed on to your lips, silencing your words. "Shh baby. It's alright~" Angel was looking down on top of you, admiring you with his heterochromic eyes. His hands traced your face, your arms, and legs, causing your heart to flutter. "Since ya gonna be my antidote, baby. I better indulge in it~."
Hello, I hope you're having a good day. I saw your requests are open for Killer Peter fanfics unless I'm mistaken😳. If I'm not mistaken,could you please do a Killer Peter x reader where reader was an experiment for the glory. They kept reader in a capsule like thing that kept her young for like 45 years she's,in reality five years younger than Peter but since Peter became young again she looks like she is only two years younger than him. So back to the main thing. Reader is a new recruit from the glory, so she is tasked to go on a private mission with Peter because the glory said she is capable of slightly high ranking missions. So when she is on the mission her and Peter get separated, Peter fought the minions of the guy (there are like 200 of them) right so reader meets with the *actual* guy her and Peter were sent to deal with. So long story short( please make a cool fight scene where reader is shown as an really amazing fighter like B-rank nearing A-rank) Peter and reader bond over their love for ,I don't know anything the floor is yours yeah. Oh yeah also Peter finds reader extremely pretty. If don't mind please make her have dreadlocks. Thank you have a nice day😘
Peter x Experiment Reader
He met you when he was 15 and you were 10. You train alongside him. Days and nights. Even going on a mission with him until one tragic day.
Thus years past, both of you are grown up.
"Brother where are you going?" You ask him. He just look at you and pat your head. "Don't worry about it just go to sleep you have training tomorrow right?" You nodded in agreement and went back to sleep.
Unfortunately for him,one of his missions goes wrong. As a punishment they put you in a time capsule. He couldn't find you. He searches for you like a madman. Even when Simon tried to calm him down he just got slapped.
45 years past...
It was hell for him without you by his side. He thought he was going to die at old age without u by his side but fate turned him into his younger self. Now healthy again, he makes it his mission to find you.
When he finally met you, he was shocked. He didn't expect you to look so young. Maybe because of the capsule. (He didn't know you were in a time capsule all he knows is they put you to sleep in a capsule not time capsule)
"hello? My name is y/n. How are yo--" you were crushed in a big hug from him. You didn't get the chance to finish your speech. He sobbed cut the silent tension. "I didn't know you were the new recruit" he mentioned. "Brother pet--" he just tighten his hugs but you get the message.
"y/n you be going on a private mission together with him okay? I know you can handle this" a man said.
You just nodded. "Brother you have so much to explain?" You whisper to him. He just smile at you and kiss your cheeks.
You were too stunned to speak. As both of you get ready you see him putting on a black coat. "Why the coat brother?" "Stop calling me brother y/n"
"but I like it though..." He just drag you to the mission.
Timeskip
As they walk through the hallway a sudden rumbling makes them on guard.
As they look in front of a group of people...no...maybe a hundred people with weapons chase them.
"y/n go now!! I handle this! Quick" Peter shout. You just stare at him and quickly run. You run and run until you stumble a door. You heard voices from inside. You slowly open it there and behold the boss that you were supposed to capture.
Then the man turned to her and smirked. "Well well I didn't know a pretty lady would come and get me~"
Third pov
A Dance of Blades and Shadows
The mission had gone sideways fast.
Peter was supposed to cover the front while she flanked from the side, but the second the doors to the compound burst open, an ocean of enemies flooded in—too many for the plan to stay intact.
Separated. Outnumbered. Improvising.
The main target stood before her now, calm in the chaos. A man draped in deep crimson robes, watching her with a smirk that dripped with arrogance.
"You’re not the one I was expecting,” he mused, voice rich with condescension. “But I suppose you’ll have to do.”
Y/n cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders. “You talk a lot for someone about to get their ass kicked.”
The man flicked his wrist. Two guards lunged first—trained killers, their footwork clean, their blades gleaming under dim neon lights. But she moved before they could strike, her body coiled tight with honed instinct.
The first came in high with a slash. She ducked low, her dreadlocks whipping around as she twisted under the blade. Her knee shot up, crushing his ribs before her elbow slammed down on the back of his neck. He dropped like dead weight.
The second was faster, already adjusting. He swung—she caught his wrist, twisted, and wrenched the weapon from his grip in one fluid motion. A sharp spin, and the stolen dagger was buried in his throat before he could scream.
Two down.
But the real fight was just beginning.
The target smiled, unimpressed. “Not bad.”
Then the lights cut.
Darkness swallowed the room, and she knew—this was his game now.
A flicker of movement. A whisper of fabric. He struck from the shadows.
She dodged just in time, the air splitting where her ribs had been. The hum of a blade followed—he was using a weapon coated in something sharp, something wicked.
He fought like a ghost. Silent, fast, unpredictable.
But so was she.
She let him attack again, just enough to gauge his rhythm. A dodge here, a slight deflection there. Then—her moment.
Instead of evading the next strike, she stepped in.
The blade skimmed past her cheek, close enough to draw a thin line of red, but she was already moving. Her arm hooked around his wrist, her body twisting. A sharp yank, a brutal pivot—
CRACK.
The satisfying snap of his wrist filled the air.
He stumbled back, hissing, but she wasn’t done.
A knee to the stomach, an elbow to the jaw, and then—her leg hooked behind his, sweeping him off balance. He hit the ground hard, his breath leaving in a sharp gasp.
She knelt beside him, pressing his own blade against his throat.
“Told you,” she murmured, breath steady despite the adrenaline. “Your ass? Kicked.”
---
Just as she secured the target, Peter finally arrived—his black coat stained with enemy blood, his breathing only slightly labored.
He took one look at the bodies littering the room, then at her, a slow smirk curling at the edges of his lips.
“Remind me,” he said, “why was I the one fighting the small army while you got the fun job?”
She wiped the blood from her knuckles, shrugging. “Maybe next time, keep up.”
He huffed a laugh, eyes lingering on her—longer than necessary.
Yeah. He was definitely looking at her differently now.
Maybe it was the way she fought. Maybe it was the way she looked under the dim, flickering lights, her dreadlocks wild around her face, her eyes sharp and unshaken.
Either way, she didn’t mind.
---
Not one bit.
"I'm so tired..." Peter just nod. "Come I cook something for us" you beam with joy and quickly run to him.
