I Am Already Seeing Y'all Fucking Make Excuses Not To Vote If Kamala Harris Is Nominated So Let's Clear

This with nanami🙏🏾🙏🏾

ask and ye shall receive <3 content: MDNI, fwb!Nanami x f!Reader, handcuffs, piv sex, light choking, slight exhibitionism ig

Nanami Kento was a man who knew how to multitask.

He's expected to attend a meeting online he knows is a waste of time? He's finishing that afternoon's paperwork off-screen and still chiming at just the right moment with just the right insight. Lunch breaks? He'd rather eat his sandwich at his desk while he works than take it and be stuck there past five. You once caught him reading in the bathtub, wine glass in one hand while the suds clung to his chest. But this?

This was, uh, new.

"Sweetheart, sorry, I have to take this," His honeyed voice murmured in your ear, soft lips grazing against your neck as his other hand reached for his phone on the nightstand.

"Ken-" You started, about to tell him it was fine despite your disappointment, expecting him to pull out, but no, him readjusting just seemed to force his cock in deeper. Snapping your mouth shut to stifle your own gasp right as his thumb swiped over the screen and brought it to his ear.

"Hello? Yes, this is him," Nanami answered, somehow managing to sound professional while his cock was practically kissing your cervix. The throb of his thick length while you reluctantly unwrapped your legs from around his waist was taunting, blinking up at his collected face, only a few strands of his shiny blonde hair hanging loose even hinting at him being anything other than put-together. You wanted to touch it, brush it out of his face and twirl it around your finger, but you were cuffed, the metal cool around your wrists as they rested above your head.

You could barely understand the voice on the other end, something about an interview before you heard the word now and pieced it together.

"Now works," Nanami replied. He didn't pull out.

You waited, one second, two, but once you hit five in your head, you were mouthing his name, but he just pressed a soft, silent kiss to your forehead before proceeding to pull out just to slide right back in.

There was no fucking way he was-

The second thrust quickly turned into the twentieth though, his free hand pulling your thigh back over his hip so he could angle himself back in just as deep, careful not to smack into your skin hard enough to make a noise loud enough to be heard on the other end. All while he answered every stupid question about statistics and personal accomplishments and his recent projects and sales, even fucking chuckling at something the guy on the other end said like he wasn't bottoming out inside you with every brutal pump.

Your wrists straining against the handcuffs now, squirming under the weight of his frame and studying how handsome he looked like this, his sculpted chest and shoulders, the faint blond happy trail above where his cock was connected with you. He only briefly pulled the phone away from his ear to shake his head and give you one little chiding click of his tongue while nodding towards where your hands were bound, reminding you not to hurt yourself.

Pouting, you stuck your tongue out at him and you could pretty much see him tighten the leash on his own restraint to resist rolling his eyes and flipping you over to deliver a rough smack to your ass.

"I prefer not to work overtime, but if necessary..." Nanami returned his attention back to the man on the phone, who probably would never guess what position his interviewee had you in. Your own gasps and panting were barely contained, biting down on your lip to keep it from falling open while he tried to split you open with his cock.

Losing track of time while you were losing your grip on your slipping sanity, teased closer and closer to a climax as you desperately attempted to stay silent.

A tiny whine escaped, hardly a squeak, when his swollen tip grinded against the soft spot in the back, all your muscles squeezing around him as you struggled to hold in another needy whimper.

The hand holding your thigh disappeared, the heat of his palm lingering before it suddenly wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to keep you quiet. His sturdy fingers flexed and pressing into the tendons, squeezing you back, the heat between your thighs burning brighter at the hold he had on you. Your legs locked back around his waist tighter before he bottomed out in you, burying himself to the hilt again and again and again.

Forcing shallow breaths in-and-out your nose, glossy eyes peering up at his still-stoic expression, his brows pulled together in focus he was splitting between you and the phone.

It was probably one of your favorite faces of his - the way his lips were pushed together and all the sharp lines of his face, all his defined features fit together when he fit so nicely inside you. You were fine receiving half of his attention if it meant his two-track mind thought of you at all. If it felt even half as good as this.

Listening to his soothing voice recite facts and numbers and asking the other guys questions while he fucked you harder, faster. His thumb dragged up higher along the side of your neck to where a hickey he'd accidentally left earlier was, pressing in just enough you were suppressing another whine. Tears were starting to brim at your lashes, batting them up at Nanami to silently beg him to please, please, please let you cum already, squirming and moving until the cuffs accidentally clinked against his bedpost.

Shit.

"Sorry, that was just my pet," He apologized, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a little smirk while your mouth fell open in a wordless protest at his teasing.

You were so going to get him back later.

He balanced the phone between his shoulder and his ear, freeing up his other hand like he'd at least let you finish as an apology, rolling his thumb over your sore and sensitive clit, massaging steady circles that had your back arching up off the bed. Replying with 'mhm's and 'ah's while he released your throat to clamp that hand over your mouth instead, muffling your moans under his calloused palm.

You finished first. Or maybe he did. It was hard to tell, your legs trembling and a too-bright wave of pleasure hitting you right as his abs tensed and something warm started to leak down your thighs.

The interviewer on the other end definitely didn't know, still chattering away faintly in the background as Nanami ran his fingers through his hair, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he pulled the phone away enough it wouldn't catch how his dreamy little sigh as he caught his breath and re-composed himself.

"Oh? Yes, thank you very much. I'll keep an eye out for the email," Nanami murmured when he brought it back to his ear, only now pulling out and climbing off the bed, his cock, still pink and pretty springing up with his steps. He disappeared into the attached bathroom for a moment before coming back with a washcloth, cleaning up your thighs first, before himself.

You listened to him say his goodbye, still in a daze while he tossed the cloth into his laundry basket and sat next to you, warm eyes crinkling as he caressed your cheek. He hung up the phone, placing it back on the nightstand.

"I got the job."

Lumberjack ! Logan secretly love being pampered and spoiled by his girlfriend but is too shy to admit it

oh absolutely, honey! 💌

he'll daydream alllll day at the yard about comin' home to you & you running your nails through his hair, scratching and tugging while kissing his cheeks. and he'll blush, too! swinging his axe with the gratifying chop and thinking about his girl waiting for him at home ᯓᡣ𐭩

on days where you needed the pick-up, mainly to run to the farmer's market down the way for dinner, you'll pick him up from the yard. and ohhhh boy the looks logan gets when the other workers see a pretty little thing like you pulling up for him. and logan absolutely eats it up— loves knowing his pretty girl, so loving and doting, bordering obsessed with him, is the object of every mans dreams. if anyone dares to tease him for the sudden pep in his step as he almost jogs to you in the car, the glare they recieve will be deadly before logan shifts his eyeline back to you with a soft smile— only reserved for you <3

everyday when he comes home from work, there's a warm lavendar bath ready, and his favorite soft sweats warm from the dryer. the first time you drew him the bath, he fiddled with the soft pebbles of lavendar asking himself "what the fuck is this?" when you left the room for a moment to grab him a fluffy towel.

he was skeptical of being loved— never too quick to let his guard down. but when he finally sat in the tub? long, tanned limbs relaxing in the warm water that smelled sooo nice & relaxing? his shoulders dropping with content and his eyes fluttering shut? you washing his hair and telling him about your day? "oh god" he prays to himself "never take me away from her, not even for a second, i won't be able to bear it"

and for a more silly approach, you do a sweet little cucumber face mask on logan during the winter months; shelled up in your cozy home as the snow rages on. his eyes peacefully closed as you sit on his tummy, massaging his face gently as he runs his hands up & down your hips and thighs. a sudden knock at the window reveals one of logan's friendly coworkers, coming to drop off the coat logan left at the sight earlier that day.

and this coworker pauses his sentence in mild shock to stare at this 6'2, mean-eyed hairy lumberjack with green fluff on his face and freshly moisturized lips. and all logan can say is "you tell anyone and i'll fuckin' kill you, i swear to god i will" to which you'll turn, all hurt, "you don't like the mask, baby?" and logan'll backtrack so genuinely "no, no baby, i do. 's nice and cooling, like you said. just don't want this dipshit thinkin' i'll do anything wild like this for anyone but my girl"

and when his buddy leaves, head falling back in laughter, logan doesn't even find himself caring so much. especially not when you lay him back down, face now clean of the mask, and slooooowly start massaging his biceps.

"love my girl. love my sweet girl. take such good care'a me, pup, 'm so grateful" he'll coo as he starts to fall asleep after a long day's work— completely content, completely in love, only mildly ashamed of how much he needs you :(((

alfred gave them the sheets

Finally somebody with a brain who can get her job right; I don't cop cities nor do I support cops in anyyy way but this election I support Kamala. It's sad that people who WILLINGLY chose drugs and got caught are being weaponized in a crucial time. I don't support cops but Kamala job was the send the people who broke the law into trial, that is something she can't fix or.

It didn’t hit me until recently that people genuinely think Kamala Harris was a police officer because of all the people who call her a cop online.

Like I think maybe it’s important people should know she was a prosecutor. She was once a district attorney and later an attorney general for the state of California. And we can discuss how related that is to police work and how tied she is to the carceral system etc etc (but for fairness would have to include her record of pushing for lowering incarceration rates through programs helping former prisoners + her office refusing to jail folks for low level weed offense). But she was never a police officer. Like people should get that clear. Kamala Harris was never a police officer. She was a district attorney. She was never a police officer.

“no one for president” you sound like such a fucking cringe edgelord and unless u plan on staging a massive revolution in a country of 300 million spanning 3.8 million square miles and overthrowing the government before November I would suggest voting for the candidate who DOESNT cater to white supremacy subcultures, getting involved in local community services & initiatives, donating to causes, or campaigning/protesting instead of this performative mock activism

Luffy Headcanons with Black Reader

Let's talk about how Luffy would be the best summer bae ever! Like Monkey D. Luffy the dude who stretches his arms and slings shots himself as a mode of 2nd transportation...our personal buggee jump man

So, to beginning this by the way if you and Luffy had a little bacay a little vacation even for a weekend, he'll make the best plans ever! Like trying out every new dish at a restaurant he saved (He ate them out of a house and home), you showing him things you did as a kid during summer like frozen orbeez water guns fight and getting popsicles after running around a pool or lake (I was an inside kid) like every day was a new adventure.

Luffy the type of dude to actively get is friends or gf/bf to try new things, like if you're a stick in the mud he'll try to be like " Here! Eat this sand covered turkey leg I found"

If y'all can't have a trip though my favorite summer thing is doing my hair, I feel like he'll help put your braids in... but they'll slip out and he'll hand them back to you like a church lady giving you some candy. I feel like he can't do nothing like locs unless you have them already them you get two lopsided ponytails

When you and Luffy want to chill though he'll watch stars with you and talk about new aspirations he got like what he's going to do as Pirate King, seeing his old island peoples again. When watching the stars he would ask a lot about moments where he might've almost died, things the crew went through in his name, also how when he sees a new enemy he thinks he'll also be fine til one of the crew get hurt. He aware his mortality is not God like

He really matures when he's calm but, back to the crack head shit

He cannot cook so in the theme of summer, SUMMER COOK OFF

He gets Zoro, Sanji, Franky and anyone who else who can cook to make their best dish and him, you, Nami and Robin judges and obviously his big-big-biggy back ass said everything was a 100/10

Honestly summer with Luffy would be the best thing for an average citizen, even for a sea monster it would be amazing.

A.N: ( Yall im sorry this was ass...i had a burst of enegry then I went downhill but hope yall like it!)

Summer Drinks 🍒🍑🍓

Character of choice x Girly!Black Reader Drabbles

So, imagine you and your man it the summertime and the two of you want to get away for a while; you call off work, he books the destination, you pack all necessary items and your off to a dream vacay! On the plane your lover holds your hand and smiles his fear f heights calmed into just small thought floating around huge thoughts of vacation travels and your new pretty tiny bikini ( this is for plus-size too! Be sexy girllll)

After the plane ride your lover paid the airport for a car so you wouldn't have to wait for a Lyft and yalls off the paradise, the palm trees swaying in the breezy winds, your nose smells ocean water and a hint of sandy fumes. As he drives his hand is on your thigh holding you as close as he can, your hair draped down your back and your hand out the window feeling the breeze. He backs into your resort parking and leads you through a hotel of green! Plants of monstera plants and smaller palm trees, the bar filled with fruity smells and liquors catching your eye; you tell him to check in while you waltz to the bar reading over a chalk board menu you order a " Fruitful Margarita with salt on the rim with extra cherries on the size" The bartender smiles and whips up one of the most flavorful margaritas you've ever drank.

Your lover comes back around after putting up your bags and holds onto your waist commenting on the drink, you ask about the bags, and he told you he put them up, you're feeling bad offers him a sip of drink and he sips it once, then twice, then he takes the cups and almost downs it! Shocked you gently take it back and orders him one while he looked over the menu for a tiny snack, with two drinks and some chips you both with drinks in hand explore your ocean side resort; Lover boy looks into the gym and jacuzzi while you look at a tiki themed pool, the people there either relaxing in the beaming sun or swimming in the pool with gleeful smiles, walking two the water your lover comes behind you and leads you towards a table. He such a worry wart as he spreads sunscreen on your legs and arms and ties your hair up.

Smiling in the water as you float and sway you see an older lady with a smoothie from one of the tiki hunt bars, getting from the pool you walk over again to the menu and see " Achol infused breezy peachy smoothie!" Wow! this place is coming up with some names, ordering two you walk over to your lover wow relaxing with headphones and closed eyes, he peaks open an eye to you sitting down and passing him the drink, he sips it once, then twice, then slurps the peachy drink down and you watch as you take tiny sips.

Now it night time, you've showered with all summer products smelling like a coconut or pineapple woman and lover hugs your frame kissing upon your neck in a tipsy daze, you both head down and hop in the car (don't drink and drive) the sounds of club music and smells of ocean water parties fills your nose as you look out the window, him shows you this club you've gotten free tickets too! He opens your door and your pretty pink dress flows in the winds as your sandals hit the wooden floor, the club lights are fire lit torches and the booths decorated with grassy theme decor, as people dance you and your lover order an appetizer and you again order another summery drink buttttt this time it's a night life happy hour " 2 drinks for the price of 1! From beers to wines Order Now!" You look over ever every drink settling for a " Tiki Man Pineapple Mimosa" and him a beer.

Now after a few more drinks and dancing the night away you've landed yourself on the bed with a huff, your sandals well one sandal on your foot as the other one you kicked out at the door you lover peels the other one off and asks did you enjoy your day? In your drunken daze you giggle and smile adding away, he tells you to wake up so you can shower, and change. After a nice bath and you oiled up your body and put on some loose pjs and you lay don next to him, with a kiss on the forehead and a few pillow talks you both drift off to a slumber.

Summer Days: 1 done, 19 More to go!

A.N: ( IM MAKING A SERIES THIS WHOLE SUMMER YALLS. I missed writing so for the rest of summer imma push a summer themed storys. Like its nit a collab but ya'know just writing stuff)

Like and comment if you likeeee!!

Sah- De not Sade

Earthy Black reader x Denki Kaminari

Music. The one thing even I wouldn't give up for the world, to pop, to neo-soul, to even metal; I've been finding new artist recently at this record store by my apartment, the store is just a small business ran by a family of 4, their daughter has been with me since I was a kid moving to Japan because my dad got a new hero job was difficult; culture shock.

It's honestly too hot to be walking the street today, June heat and the fact my summer outfits ain't even giving just made my mood dop, then it some boy with yellow hair staring at me like I'm some newly discovered species!? Turing my head to look at the boy he just smiles and waves, a little taken back I just wave and speed walk into the record store, my best friend told me a new shipment of records from my favorite artist came in! SADE, even though it's a old album they vinyl was brand new got the cd in too! combing my finger through each album to grow my collection from Miseducation of Lauryn Hill to BLONDE by Frank Ocean even a CDs of Snoop Dogg and Selena was littered across each table. Picking up a Sade album when the werido from early comes up to me

" You like Sade? She's my-"

" I'm sorry but who is Sade?

" The woman on the album, Sade?" He looks just as confused as me.

" Baby this is SAH- DE not Sade hun"

"... Im pretty sure it not sah-dey but I like her music that one song-

" How she your favorite artist but you can't pronounce the band name?

... He just stares at me and pulls out his phone trying to prove me wrong with a recording of her saying her name, when she starts is smug smirk turns into a frown and I giggle at his deflated expression.

" Oh... it is sah-de and they are a band? I thought that was her name?"

" It's her stage name but also the band name, i dont undertsna d it either but she been my favorite singer since I was kid"

Fo the next few minutes we talk about our music taste, and I know I called him a werido before but, he's kind of cool getting past his confident mistake. I pay for my album, and he asks me if I had a boyfriend.

" And if I don't?"

" Then my plan worked and I could ask you out duhh"

" And if I dont accept"

His face turns a little gloomy making me giggle more as he lists all the reasons that going on a date with him would be worth my wild, I accept, and he slips me his number as I write my number down on his hand

" So, what plan did you have?"

" I heard the music in your headphones and I knew the band right, seeing you pick the album I acted like I didnt know her name"

" So...you lied?"

" And it worked idnt it" He boost a smirk on his face widen as i roll m eyes and chuckle"

" Your funny, a liar but funny you what's your name again?

" Denki, yours"

" y/n"

He writes a smiley face next to my number and name on his hand and we wave goodbye, I heard him say to a friend group that was waiting on him that he talked to me, and they laughed at him off as he tries to convince them.

" But it true! She even told me the band's name and everything!"

" Yea right and I'm Beyonce, now let's go before Aizawa beats our ass for missing training"

Snickering at the thought I walk aback home, a new boy in my mind as Kiss of Life plays through my ears.

A.N: ( I dont like the " Sade aesthetic " girlies because they all white with bad fashion sense. I make my claim with the fact I heard 5 people in my life say Sade name and band name wrong... THEY THOUGHT I WAS LYING TOO! But hope y'all like it! Love y'all <3

Invincible variants x reader Pt. 6✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

♡ A new variant appears?♡

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ Broken Convergence‧ ₊ ˚

☆ WC: 12k+ [Part 6] ☆ TW: fluff ☆ Author's Note: Hi everyone. Sorry for the late update; I went to Knotts Berry Farm and got hella sick. People really need the decency to cover up when coughing (￣へ￣）Anyway, I wrote this chapter with a fever, lol, I hope y'all like it! ––––––––––––––

Omni had only a split second to react. His enhanced senses detected the threat before the sound reached his ears—a rush of air, the crack of wood splintering, and the unmistakable scent of rage. The muscles beneath his red and white suit tensed as years of combat training took over, his jawline hardening with determination.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD OMNI—!"

In one fluid motion, Omni slipped his mask back over his eyes, concealing the vulnerability he'd shown only to Y/N moments before. The black lenses obscured the conflict in his blue eyes as he covered her body with his own. His massive frame enveloped her completely, shielding her from the incoming assault. The mattress springs groaned in protest as he shifted his weight, his arms creating a protective cage around her smaller form.

Mohawk Mark burst through the doorway, the wooden frame exploding into splinters that scattered across the cabin floor like deadly confetti.

His blue and black suit was torn in places, smeared with dirt and blood—evidence of the destruction he'd been wreaking across the planet. His signature mohawk was disheveled, strands of dark hair falling across his forehead like jagged shadows. His eyes blazed with unrestrained fury, pupils constricted to pinpoints as he caught sight of Omni hovering protectively over Y/N.

Mohawk's lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing teeth clenched so tightly that a vein pulsed visibly at his temple. The purple-blue line throbbed beneath his skin in time with his racing heartbeat, a visual indicator of his barely contained rage.

"I KNEW IT!" he roared, spittle flying from his mouth. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, his face flushed dark with rage until it matched the crimson of his blood-splattered suit.

 "Sneaking off to have her all to yourself!"

He launched himself at Omni, his body becoming a blur of motion. His fist connected with Omni's forearm as the red-suited variant blocked the attack with mathematical precision. The impact sent shockwaves through the cabin, rattling the remaining windows and knocking dust from the ceiling beams. The sound was like a thunderclap contained within the small space, reverberating off the walls and assaulting Y/N's ears.

Despite Omni's protection, Y/N felt the vibration of the impact jolt through her body. Mohawk's knee drove into her abdomen as he collided with Omni, reopening the barely-healed wound in her torso. Her vision exploded with white-hot pain, a strangled gasp escaping her lips as fresh blood soaked through her bandages. The warmth of it against her skin was instant and alarming, a stark contrast to the chill that began to spread through her limbs.

Mohawk's momentum carried both him and Omni through the opposite wall, their bodies tearing through the aged wood like it was paper. Splinters and debris showered the forest floor as they tumbled outside, uprooting trees as they grappled, each impact reverberating through the ground like thunder.

Y/N curled into herself, clutching her reopened wound. Crimson seeped between her fingers, warm and sticky against her skin. The copper scent of her own blood filled her nostrils, making her stomach twist with nausea. Her breath came in short, pained gasps as she tried to focus through the haze of agony. Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead as her face contorted with pain, her brows drawing together and lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

"Damn it," she hissed through gritted teeth, her pupils dilated with shock. The wound from Prisoner's rusted pipe strike had never fully healed, and No-Mask's hurried medical work hadn't been enough to prevent infection.

As a man-made Viltrumite, she lacked the immunity to disease that true Viltrumites possessed. The infection had been festering beneath her skin, weakening her from within. She could feel it now—the unnatural heat radiating from her wound, the subtle but persistent throbbing that extended beyond the immediate injury.

The cabin creaked ominously around her, the structural integrity compromised by the variants' violent exit. A section of the roof had already partially collapsed, sending dust and debris raining down onto the bed. Y/N's eyes darted around the deteriorating structure, fear flickering across her features as survival instincts finally kicked in.

Outside, the battle intensified. Mohawk pounded his fist into the ground where Omni had been a millisecond before, the impact creating a crater six feet wide. The earth itself seemed to scream in protest, fracturing and buckling under the force of his rage.

"She's not yours!" Mohawk bellowed, throwing a punch that connected with Omni's jaw. The sound was like thunder, the shockwave rattling what remained of the cabin's windows. His eyes were wild, pupils constricted to pinpoints, lips pulled back in a snarl that revealed clenched teeth. A thin line of saliva stretched between his upper and lower lip as he shouted, his rage turning him feral. "None of us get to have her if all of us can't!"

Omni absorbed the blow, head snapping to the side before he recovered, his movements calculated and precise despite the fury of Mohawk's attack. Unlike his opponent, Omni's face remained a mask of calm, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his anger. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, the only evidence that Mohawk's blow had landed. He wiped it away with mathematical precision, not a wasted movement in sight.

"You don't understand what's happening," Omni stated, his voice level despite the situation. He dodged another punch, the air whistling as Mohawk's fist passed inches from his face. His body moved with fluid grace, each dodge and counter-strike executed with perfect efficiency. "She needed protection—"

"Protection?!" Mohawk laughed, the sound hollow and manic as he grabbed a nearby tree, uprooting it with terrifying ease. Soil and roots dangled from the massive trunk as he hefted it like a bat. Muscles bulged beneath his torn suit, veins standing out in stark relief against his skin. His eyes glittered with cruel amusement. "Is that what you call fucking her while she's injured? Some protection!"

Y/N felt heat rush to her face at Mohawk's crude accusation, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and indignation. The cabin creaked ominously around her, the structural integrity compromised by the variants' violent exit. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling, a section of which had already partially collapsed.

Something primal stirred within her—self-preservation that had lain dormant under the collar's suppression. With desperate concentration, she focused on the power that had been denied her for so long. The sensation was like electricity coursing through her veins, uncomfortable yet exhilarating. Her muscles trembled with the effort, her face contorting as she pushed against her limitations, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched.

The energy within her built slowly at first, then with increasing speed—a tingling at her core that spread outward to her limbs. It was like rediscovering a part of herself that had been amputated, painful in its return yet undeniably right. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, fine hairs standing on end as power surged through her.

With a strained grunt, Y/N launched herself toward the hole Omni and Mohawk had created. Her flight was wobbly, unpracticed—she ricocheted off the remaining wall, crying out as the impact sent fresh waves of pain through her torso. Blood trickled from the reopened wound, drops falling like crimson rain to the ruined cabin below as she corrected her trajectory and burst through the opening just as the cabin's roof collapsed with a deafening crash.

Dust and debris billowed outward, enveloping her in a cloud of particles that stung her eyes and choked her lungs. She coughed violently, each spasm sending darts of pain through her reopened wound. Her flight faltered, her concentration wavering as she struggled to stay airborne.

Outside, the battle intensified. Mohawk and Omni clashed in midair, the sound of their collisions echoing like cannon fire. Where Mohawk fought with wild, erratic movements fueled by emotional rage, Omni moved with precision, each strike calculated for maximum effect. Trees splintered and fell as they used the forest as their battleground, neither willing to yield.

"JUST FUCKING DIE!! She's MINE!" Mohawk roared, his voice cracking with emotion. His eyes were wild and unfocused, the veins in his forehead prominent as he drove his fist toward Omni's face. Sweat beaded on his brow, flying off in droplets with each violent movement. His mohawk had become completely disheveled, hanging limply to one side. "I found her first!"

Omni deflected the blow with efficiency, his expression composed despite the fury blazing behind his mask. His jawline remained tense, only the slight flare of his nostrils betraying his emotional state as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. Every movement was a study in controlled power, not a single motion wasted.

"Your claim is irrelevant," Omni replied, his voice cold and even. His eyes narrowed behind his mask, assessing Mohawk's weaknesses with clinical precision. Each word was delivered with perfect speech as if he were discussing a scientific theory rather than fighting for the possession of a woman. "You're too volatile, too unpredictable. You'll get her killed."

Y/N hovered uncertainly above the destruction, her limbs heavy and uncooperative as she struggled to maintain altitude. The forest below was being systematically destroyed, a mirror of the greater devastation they'd been inflicting on the planet before she had entered their lives. Massive trees lay uprooted, their ancient trunks splintered like matchsticks. Craters scarred the earth where superhuman blows had connected, the once-lush landscape now resembling a war zone.

"Enjoying the fight, my little warrior?" a silky voice whispered in her ear.

The whispered words caressed her ear, warm breath tickling her neck. Y/N flinched violently, her concentration breaking as she faltered in the air. The almost imperceptible scent of expensive cologne mixed with something darker, more primal, invaded her nostrils. Her stomach lurched as she began to fall—only to be caught by strong arms that pulled her firmly against a solid chest.

Sinister's hold was both gentle and possessive, his yellow and black suit vibrant against the blue sky. His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes—eyes that burned with an intensity that made her breath catch. The scent of sulfur and something darker, more primal, clung to him as he pressed his nose against the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply like a predator committing its prey's scent to memory. His breath was hot against her skin, raising goosebumps despite the fever burning through her.

His entire body stiffened, the smile freezing on his face. When he pulled back to look at her, his expression had transformed into something dangerous, the mask of charm slipping to reveal the predator beneath. His pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the iris as his nostrils flared, drinking in her scent with animal intensity.

"Why does Omni's scent cover you so completely?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft. His fingers dug into her arms, not enough to bruise but enough to demonstrate the barely leashed strength he possessed. The veins in his neck stood out prominently as he struggled to control his reaction, pulsing visibly beneath his skin. 

"He was watching you… What exactly happened between you two in that cabin?"

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Sinister's grip shifted, one hand moving to cup her face. His thumb and forefinger pressed against her cheeks, squeezing until her lips puckered slightly. A drop of blood welled at the corner of her mouth where her split lip reopened, the metallic taste coating her tongue. His touch was paradoxically gentle despite the power behind it, his fingers warm against her fever-chilled skin.

"Why him?" Sinister whispered, his face close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath. Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes, a momentary glimpse of raw pain before it was swallowed by possessive fury. The muscles in his jaw worked beneath his skin, tension radiating from his body. 

"Why not me? I would have protected you just as fiercely. I would have worshipped you more thoroughly."

His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, wiping away the blood. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted sharply with the tension radiating from his body. His pupils dilated as he stared at the smear of crimson on his glove, his breathing becoming more ragged. He brought the blood-stained finger to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the crimson smear. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the metallic taste of her. When they opened again, they were darker, hungrier.

"Release her, Sinister."

The commanding voice cut through the tension like a knife. Viltrumite Mark hovered several feet away, his pristine white uniform a stark contrast against the smoky sky. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, his face a mask of disapproval, eyes cold with barely restrained anger. Unlike the others, Viltrumite Mark carried himself with an almost regal bearing—shoulders squared, chin raised, every inch of him radiating authority.

"This doesn't concern you, old man," Sinister snarled.

His grip on Y/N remained unyielding, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her suit where it clung to her fever-dampened skin. The heat of his body radiated through the material, creating a cocoon of warmth that simultaneously comforted and alarmed her. His arm snaked possessively around her waist, resting just below her wound. The subtle pressure sent lightning bolts of pain through her abdomen, yet there was something intimately protective in the way he held her—like she was something precious he'd lost and miraculously found again.

Viltrumite Mark's expression hardened, the muscles in his jaw flexing beneath his skin like steel cables being pulled taut. Afternoon sunlight caught in his eyes, illuminating the amber flecks hidden within the depths of brown, giving them an almost supernatural glow. A subtle twitch appeared at the corner of his right eye—the only visible indication of his growing anger.

"Everything concerning her involves all of us," he stated, his voice dropping an octave, the words vibrating with barely restrained fury.

He moved closer, each step measured and precise, the pristine white of his uniform a stark contrast to the destruction surrounding them. The devastated forest stretched like a wound across the landscape, with uprooted trees, and shattered earth testament to the variants' earlier battle. The distant smoke of burning cities hung on the horizon, a grim reminder of the chaos they had unleashed upon this world.

"You will release her. Now." The command hung in the air, heavy with authority.

"Or what?" Sinister's lips stretched into a smile that was all teeth, gleaming white against his tanned skin.

His eyes never left Viltrumite Mark's face, challenge radiating from his posture—from the defiant tilt of his chin to the ready tension in his shoulders. His body coiled like a spring, prepared for conflict, fingers digging minutely deeper into Y/N's flesh. The small indentations would surely leave bruises, and violet shadows to mark his possession.

"You'll fight me? Go ahead," he taunted, his breath hot against Y/N's ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "But remember who bleeds if I drop her."

"Stop it," Y/N said, her voice stronger than she expected.

She pressed her palms against Sinister's chest, creating a small space between them. The firm muscle beneath her fingers tensed at her touch, his heartbeat pounding against her palms like a war drum. Her eyes flashed with determination despite the pain etched into the lines of her face, fever making her skin glow almost luminescent in the filtered sunlight that pierced through the swirling dust.

"I'm not a prize to be fought over," she declared, each word precise and cutting.

Both variants looked at her with surprise, clearly not expecting resistance from her in her weakened state. A bead of sweat traced its way down her temple, a testament to the infection raging through her system, yet her gaze remained steady and defiant.

Viltrumite Mark recovered first, his expression softening fractionally. The harsh lines around his mouth relaxed, though the tension in his powerful frame remained. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly, becoming less threatening while still maintaining his authority—a predator choosing to retract its claws, but only momentarily.

"Of course not," he agreed, inclining his head slightly. The gesture was almost courtly, a curious formality amidst the apocalyptic landscape. "You are far more valuable than any prize. Which is precisely why you should not be manhandled by this—" his lip curled with distaste, "—degenerate."

Sinister's laughter erupted, sharp and brittle like breaking glass. It bounced off the ruined landscape, echoing in the unnatural silence that had fallen over the devastated forest.

"Such hypocrisy!" he spat, the words dripping with contempt. "You fucking smell her too, don't you?"

He leaned in closer to Y/N, his nose brushing against the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. The intimate gesture was performed with deliberate provocation, his eyes remaining fixed on Viltrumite Mark, gleaming with malicious amusement. 

His lips, warm and soft, grazed her pulse point—not quite a kiss, but something more possessive, more primal. Y/N couldn't suppress the involuntary shudder that rippled through her body, her traitorous nerves responding to his touch despite her better judgment.

"Tell me, old man," Sinister continued, his voice dropping to a husky murmur that seemed to caress her skin, "does it burn you up inside knowing he got to her first? That she chose that cold, calculating bastard over the rest of us?"

Viltrumite Mark's nostrils flared as he took in the scene, his enhanced senses confirming what Sinister had said. The scent of another variant on Y/N's skin was unmistakable—the unique pheromonal signature of Omni lingering on her like an invisible brand. His expression hardened, the lines around his mouth deepening as his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his cheek.

The white of his uniform seemed to glow in the afternoon light, immaculate despite the chaos around him—a visual representation of his attempt to maintain control, to rise above the base instincts that drove the other variants.

"What have you done?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. His gaze fixed on Sinister, misinterpreting the situation. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking with the tension. "You think you can claim her? Mark her with your scent like some animal?"

Sinister's lips pulled back in a sneer, his arms tightening protectively around Y/N. For all his antagonism, there was something genuinely defensive in the way he held her now as if shielding her from judgment.

"Are you blind? I just fucking told you it wasn't me," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. The vein in his temple pulsed visibly with each heartbeat, his anger a living thing beneath his skin. "It was Omni. The so-called perfect, logical Mark couldn't keep his hands to himself."

Viltrumite's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed to slits. His carefully maintained composure cracked, revealing a glimpse of the fury beneath. The perfect stillness of his body was more threatening than any movement could have been.

"Liar," he snarled, launching himself at Sinister with blinding speed.

Sinister released Y/N just before impact, sending her tumbling through the air as he met Viltrumite Mark's charge. The collision sent shockwaves through the atmosphere, the sound like a thunderclap as the two variants grappled midair. Their bodies moved so quickly they became blurs of yellow, black, and white, punctuated by the explosive sounds of their blows connecting.

Y/N struggled to stabilize herself, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. The infection was spreading rapidly, sapping her strength with each passing moment. Her vision blurred, the world tilting dangerously around her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her skin flushed with fever despite the chill in the air. The edges of her sight darkened, threatening unconsciousness as her body fought the invasive infection.

Below, the battle had escalated. Omni and Mohawk had noticed the new conflict and were now involved in a four-way brawl that tore through what remained of the forest like a tornado. Trees snapped like toothpicks under the force of their blows, the earth itself cratering with each impact. The air vibrated with the concussive force of their combat, dust and debris swirling in chaotic patterns around the fighting variants.

Most of the forest had been uprooted, leaving a desolate wasteland punctuated by splintered stumps and massive trees embedded in the earth like javelins. Boulders had been pulverized into dust, the very ground scarred and cratered by their supernatural strength. The destruction was systematic and complete—a microcosm of what they had been doing to the entire planet.

Y/N watched in horror as the variants tried to tear each other apart. All because of her. All because each believed she belonged to them alone. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribcage as if trying to escape. The stitches in her side pulled with each labored breath, blood still seeping through the bandages to stain her clothing.

"Stop!" she cried, her voice lost in the cacophony of destruction. Her face contorted with desperation, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Please, stop!"

Mohawk, his face twisted in a feral snarl, ripped a massive tree from the ground and hurled it at Omni. The red-suited variant easily dodged, the improvised projectile sailing past him toward Sinister and Viltrumite.

Both variants moved in unison, avoiding the missile without breaking their combat rhythm. Viltrumite punched the tree as it passed, splitting it in half. One section continued its trajectory, spinning wildly through the air.

Directly toward Y/N.

Under normal circumstances, she would have easily evaded the danger. But weakened by infection, disoriented by blood loss, and out of practice with her powers, Y/N found herself frozen in place. Her muscles locked, her mind blank with sudden panic, eyes wide with terror. The fever clouding her thoughts slowed her reactions to a crawl, leaving her hovering helplessly in the path of destruction.

The massive tree trunk hurtled toward her, and she couldn't move.

Time seemed to slow. Y/N watched the projectile approach, oddly detached from the reality of her impending doom. She could see the rough texture of the bark, and count the rings in the exposed wood where it had been torn from the earth. She could make out individual leaves still clinging to its branches, trembling in the disturbed air. She could hear the whistle of air being displaced as it approached, feel the subtle change in pressure against her skin.

"NO!" The cry came from multiple throats at once, a chorus of horror as all four variants realized her peril simultaneously.

They moved as one, abandoning their fights to converge on Y/N. Four blurs—red and white, blue and black, yellow and black, pure white—streaked through the air, racing against the projectile threatening to end her life.

Omni reached her first, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her aside. His body was solid and warm against hers, his grip secure yet careful to avoid her injury.

 The scent of him—clean, masculine, with undertones of sandalwood—enveloped her, familiar from the night before together. For a moment, despite the danger, her body responded to his proximity, remembering the gentle yet passionate way he had touched her in the cabin.

Sinister appeared a fraction of a second later, his body positioned to shield her from impact. His back pressed against her front, creating a protective sandwich with Omni behind her. The heat of his body seeped through her suit, his powerful back muscles tensing as he prepared to take the brunt of the impact. There was something achingly vulnerable in his willingness to use his body as a shield for her—this man who had helped destroy her world.

Viltrumite Mark and Mohawk arrived in the same instant, each grabbing part of the tree trunk, their combined strength bringing it to an abrupt halt mere inches from where Y/N now hovered in Omni's protective embrace. The wood splintered under their grip, sap oozing from the fresh breaks like amber tears.

The sudden silence was deafening after the chaos of battle. All four variants were breathing heavily, not from exertion but from fear—fear for her safety. Their eyes were wide, pupils dilated, faces drained of color at how close they had come to losing her again.

Y/N stared at the tree trunk still held in Viltrumite Mark and Mohawk's grip, her heart hammering against her ribs. The blood drained from her face as shock set in, leaving her pale and trembling, her lips bloodless and parted in silent terror. 

For a moment, she couldn't process how close she'd come to death. Her mind struggled to reconcile the violence around her with the protective circle now forming.

A hot flush spread across her cheeks as she realized the intensity of their gazes. Each variant looked at her with fierce protectiveness—Omni's eyes burned with determination behind his mask, his jaw set tight; Mohawk's wild gaze was tempered with genuine fear, his usual sneer replaced with concern; Sinister's face showed naked possessiveness, his lips slightly parted and breath ragged; and Viltrumite Mark's regal features were softened by relief, his eyes reflecting a pain born from past loss.

Omni's arm tightened around her waist, careful to avoid her injury. "Are you alright?" he murmured in her ear, his voice low and urgent as his hot breath fanned over one side of her face.

Despite the mask covering his eyes, she could see the concern etched into every line of his face—the tight set of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows, the tension around his mouth. For once, his voice held a tremor of emotion, breaking through his usually perfect control. The hand at her waist moved in a small circle, a subtle, unconscious caress that sent warmth blooming through her despite her weakened state.

"I—yes," she managed, though her voice shook as badly as her limbs. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her weak and disoriented. Blood continued to seep through her bandages, the crimson stain spreading wider across the fabric. The world spun around her, fever and blood loss taking their toll. She leaned heavily against Omni, no longer able to support her own weight.

Mohawk and Viltrumite Mark discarded the tree trunk, letting it fall to the devastated landscape below with a thunderous crash. The four variants formed a protective circle around Y/N, their previous animosity temporarily forgotten in the wake of her near-miss. Their bodies created a wall between her and the world, a barrier made of flesh and bone and superhuman power.

Y/N looked at each of them in turn, seeing the intensity in their eyes, the tension in their faces, and the mix of possessiveness and genuine concern that animated their features. It was overwhelming, this circle of identical yet different men, all focused solely on her. Each face was the same, yet each expression was unique—Omni's controlled precision, Mohawk's volatile emotion, Sinister's predatory charm, Viltrumite Mark's regal authority.

"This is ridiculous," she said, her voice steadier now despite the blood loss making her light-headed. Her eyes flashed with defiance, fever giving them an unnatural brightness. "You're fighting over me like I'm some... some trophy, but none of you bothered to ask what I want."

The variants exchanged glances, a mixture of guilt and stubbornness on their faces. The tension between them was palpable, a living thing that crackled in the air like electricity. For a moment, no one spoke, the only sound was the distant crash of falling trees damaged in their battle.

Mohawk was the first to break the silence, a bark of laughter escaping his throat. The sound was harsh and abrupt, startling against the sudden quiet. His blue and black suit was torn in places, revealing tanned skin beneath. Dust and debris clung to his signature mohawk, dulling its usual sharp silhouette.

"Well, sleeping beauty, what do you want?" he asked, cocking his head to one side, his mohawk flopping slightly with the movement.

There was genuine curiosity beneath his usual bravado, his brown eyes searching her face intently. A drop of blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow, tracing a path down his temple like a crimson tear. His gaze flicked briefly to Omni's arm still wrapped around her waist, a scowl darkening his features.

"Because from where I'm standing, it looks like Omni already staked his claim." The accusation hung in the air, loaded with resentment and jealousy.

Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks, painfully aware of how she must appear to them—Omni's scent on her skin, her lips still swollen from his kisses, her body cradled protectively against his. She felt Omni's grip tighten almost imperceptibly around her waist, a silent claim that contradicted his seemingly logical demeanor. His thumb moved in a small, soothing circle against her side, the gesture intimate and possessive.

"I don't belong to anyone," she stated firmly, though her voice lacked some conviction as she remained in Omni's embrace. Her chin lifted defiantly, eyes flashing with feverish intensity. "Not the GDA, not Cecil, and not..." she hesitated, her eyes moving from one variant to the next, lingering on each identical yet distinct face, "...not any of you."

They all pause, as the air around them seems to wobble, particles shifting in an unnatural pattern before turning to normal…

She sighed ignoring it as a bitter laugh escaped her lips. The sound was hollow, edged with pain and frustration. "Without the collar, I don't serve a purpose for any of you. I'm not a weapon, not a tool to be used and discarded." The words burned in her throat, raw with emotion. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, knuckles white with tension.

Viltrumite Mark's expression softened almost imperceptibly. The hard lines around his mouth relaxed, his eyes warming with something akin to tenderness. The white of his uniform caught the late afternoon light, giving him an almost angelic appearance that belied the destruction he had helped cause.

"You misunderstand," he said, his voice gentler than she had ever heard it. 

"We used the collar as just another means for us convincing ourselves there was a logical approach to keeping you alive. Now without it, our claim still stands,” he hums softly.

“We don't seek to own you or use you. We seek to cherish you." A flicker of vulnerability crossed his usually stoic face, a glimpse of the man beneath the regal exterior. "Each of us lost you once. We cannot bear to lose you again."

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Y/N's eyes widened slightly, the sincerity in his voice striking something deep within her. Before she could respond, another voice cut through the moment.

"Can't we all just have her?" The question came from behind them, unexpected and startling.

All heads turned to see No-Mask hovering several yards away, his expression unusually thoughtful. Unlike the others, his face was still fully visible, allowing Y/N to see the earnestness in his eyes, the slight uncertainty in the set of his mouth. His face was somehow softer, more open than the others, lacking the hardened edge that years of wearing a mask had given them.

Without the barrier of a mask, his emotions were laid bare—confusion, desire, hope all visible in his expressive features. The late afternoon sun gilded his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, the depths of his unguarded eyes. There was something disarmingly honest about him that made Y/N's heart flutter despite her condition.

"What did you just say?" Sinister's voice was dangerously soft as he regarded No-Mask. His body tensed, readying for another potential fight, the muscle in his jaw jumping with tension.

"I mean, she's clearly important to all of us," No-Mask continued, his expression thoughtful. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that was both nervous and thoughtful. 

"Fighting over her is just going to get her killed." His eyes darted to Y/N's wound, concern evident in his gaze. "Look at her—she's already suffering because of our conflict."

Another figure appeared beside him, drifting lazily through the air. Prisoner Mark, his burned face twisted in a permanent sneer, his eyes roving over Y/N's body with unconcealed interest. The scar tissue pulled his lips into an asymmetrical grimace that might have been a smile. Light glinted off the metal restraints still attached to his wrists, remnants of his imprisonment that he wore like trophies.

"I mean, she's got three holes," he drawled, his voice rough and gravelly from smoke damage. 

"But we can make it work." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the movement slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving Y/N's body. The crude suggestion hung in the air, made all the more disturbing by his casual delivery.

Disgust and revulsion flooded through Y/N, her stomach churning with nausea, her upper lip curling in distaste. Yet beneath her revulsion, there was something else—a flutter of confused interest as no one seemed to disagree with Prisoner's statement. The silence from the others was deafening, their lack of objection more telling than any words could have been.

She looked up at Omni, his hands still loosely around her waist. His face betrayed nothing, but the tension in his body told a different story. The muscles beneath his suit were coiled tight, his breathing carefully controlled. She thought she had built a connection with him in the cabin during their half-night together. She thought he saw her differently, as more than just a replacement for the Y/N he had lost. But now, surrounded by these men who all wore the same face, she wasn't sure anymore.

The realization hit her like a physical blow: Why were all these men so obsessed with her? Was it truly her they wanted, or the memory of the women they had lost? Was she nothing more than a ghost to them, a shadow of women long dead?

She needed to get away. Away from these men who looked at her like she was a prize to be won, a possession to be claimed. Away from the conflicting emotions they stirred within her—the disgust and the attraction, the fear and the longing.

With a desperate surge of strength, Y/N pushed Omni away and fled, pushing her weakened body to its limits as she shot through the air. The wind whipped past her face, cooling the fever heat of her skin. Below, the forest blurred into a sea of green, the destruction caused by the variants' battle a dark scar across the landscape.

Freedom was within her grasp. She could escape, could find somewhere to hide until she'd recovered enough to—

Strong hands closed around her waist, halting her flight so suddenly that the air was knocked from her lungs. Looking back, she found herself staring into Mohawk's face, his expression unexpectedly gentle despite the harsh lines etched around his mouth. The setting sun backlit his signature mohawk, creating a halo effect that softened his typically menacing appearance. Tiny beads of sweat glistened along his temples, catching the golden light. His jaw—usually set in a perpetual sneer—had relaxed, revealing a vulnerability she hadn't seen before.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice firm but gentle. His hands were steady on her waist, his grip secure without being painful. "Not in your condition."

Unlike the other variants, Mohawk wore his emotions openly on his face. The harsh lines around his mouth had softened, and his perpetually furrowed brow had relaxed. His eyes—those deep brown pools flecked with amber when caught in the right light—held a desperate intensity that made her breath catch. Behind the typical hardness of his expression lurked something raw and unguarded. When he looked at her, the snarky mask slipped, revealing not just desire but a terrifying depth of obsession.

Even now, as he held her suspended in the air, his thumbs absently traced small circles against her sides. The sensation sent shivers across her fevered skin, conflicting emotions of comfort and unease battling within her.

"Let me go," Y/N demanded, her voice weaker than she intended. She struggled against his hold, but her strength was fading rapidly. The infection was spreading, her temperature rising dangerously. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, trailing down her temples in rivulets that caught the dying sunlight like diamond tracks. Her skin flushed an alarming crimson, hot to the touch and stretched taut across her cheekbones. "I don't belong to any of you!"

"No, you don't," Mohawk agreed, surprising her. His voice cracked slightly, betraying his emotional state. The hand not supporting her waist came up to brush a sweat-soaked strand of hair from her forehead. His calloused fingers felt blessedly cool against her burning skin.

"But you need help. You're dying, Y/N. You are not a Viltrumite like the rest of us... you are man-made." His eyes dropped to her wound, where fresh blood was seeping through the bandages, the crimson stain spreading in a grotesque blooming pattern across the fabric. The metallic scent of her blood hung in the air between them, sharp and alarming. "Your body can't fight this infection without help."

The blunt assessment stopped her struggles. She knew he was right—could feel her body failing, the infection burning through her defenses like wildfire. Without proper medical care, she wouldn't survive much longer. The fever was clouding her thoughts, making her limbs heavy and uncooperative. Her vision blurred at the edges, reality wavering like heat rising from desert sand.

"Why do you care?" she asked, her voice small and vulnerable. She searched his face, looking for deceit, for hidden motives. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across his features, highlighting the tension around his eyes, the tiny scar at his jawline she hadn't noticed before. A muscle jumped erratically beneath the skin of his cheek, betraying his carefully controlled emotions.

"I'm not your Y/N. I'm not any of your Y/Ns." Her voice cracked on the last word, raw emotion breaking through. "Why can't any of you just see me for ME?!"

Mohawk's expression softened, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyebrows drew together in an expression of heartbreaking honesty. "No, you're not," he acknowledged.

His eyes revealed everything he couldn't say. As she looked into their brown depths, she saw beyond the anger and violence that defined him—saw the obsession simmering beneath. 

Mohawk wasn't just attracted to her; he was consumed by her, possessed by her very existence in a way that bordered on terrifying. There was love there, yes, but twisted and desperate, born from loss and madness.

"But you're still Y/N. A different version, perhaps, but still the woman we all loved—in our own ways, in our own worlds." He faltered, struggling with words that didn't come easily to him. "Fuck it, I can't... Fuck," he mumbled, his composure cracking further.

His hands came up to her face, moving slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. Y/N glared at him but remained still, allowing his touch. His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against her fevered skin, calloused thumbs brushing across her cheekbones with a tenderness that seemed out of place amidst the destruction surrounding them.

The physical contrast was striking—his massive hands, capable of ripping trees from the earth and punching through concrete, now cradling her face as if she were made of spun glass. She could see the dirt embedded beneath his fingernails, the scrapes across his knuckles from the earlier battle, the slight tremor that betrayed his emotional state. Each point where his skin touched hers became an anchor in her fever-hazed world, electric and alive.

Mohawk's eyes revealed everything he couldn't say. She could see the microscopic dilation of his pupils as they fixed on her face, the slight moisture gathering at the corners, the way the afternoon light caught the amber flecks within the deep brown. Tiny blood vessels mapped the whites of his eyes, evidence of exhaustion and stress. His lashes—longer than she'd noticed before—cast faint shadows on his cheeks when he blinked.

He traced the contours of her face as if memorizing them, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly—like he was touching a ghost he'd never expected to see again. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, the touch feather-light yet sending shockwaves through her system. 

The pad of his thumb was rough, calloused from years of violence, yet his touch was exquisitely gentle.

"Please... fucking please, I waited so long..." he whispered, his voice breaking with need, quivering with a vulnerability that the cocky Mohawk would never normally allow anyone to hear. 

His eyes dropped to her lips, darkening with desire, his breath coming faster, stirring the loose strands of hair around her face. "Let me."

“I know Omni got to kiss you first... to hold you first... but I need this more than I've ever needed anything…” His expression spoke volumes, raw emotion written across features usually set in arrogant lines. The late afternoon sun caught in his eyes, illuminating the desperate yearning there—a silent plea that went beyond mere desire.

Despite everything—her anger, her confusion, her illness—Y/N found herself nodding, a barely perceptible movement. Mohawk leaned forward slowly, giving her time to change her mind. His lips brushed against hers, gentle and questioning at first, then with growing hunger as she didn't pull away.

He growled against her lips, a primal sound that vibrated through her core. He spoke against her lips. At this moment, nothing else existed—not the destruction below, not the other variants flying towards them, watching, not even the infection ravaging her body. There was only this connection, this single point where past and present converged.

The kiss deepened, his lips warm and insistent against hers. His hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as he drew her closer. The slight scratch of his stubble against her skin added to the sensory overload, a delicious friction that contrasted with the surprising softness of his lips. Mohawk kissed with none of his usual aggression, instead with a desperate yearning that spoke of years of loneliness.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open briefly during the kiss, catching glimpses of his expression—eyes closed in concentration, brow relaxed, the harsh lines of his face softened by something akin to peace. When his eyes opened to meet hers, she saw naked adoration in them, dreamy and unfocused with desire. His lips, usually set in a hard line or cruel smirk, were soft against hers, moving with a gentleness that belied his brutal nature.

Despite his obvious hunger, he held himself in check, fighting the urge to deepen the kiss further, to run his hands over her body. She could feel the restraint in the tension of his muscles, in the careful placement of his hands—one at her waist, one at her nape, both trembling slightly with the effort not to crush her against him.

Y/N found herself responding, her hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the thunderous beating of his heart beneath her palms. The solid warmth of him was like an anchor in a storm, steadying her as fever and desire made her head spin. His suit was damp with sweat and smooth against her fingertips, the powerful muscles beneath twitching at her touch. For a moment, the world around them faded—the destruction, the other variants, her illness—all of it receding as she lost herself in the passionate fire of his kiss.

He gently pulled her flush against him, a soft gasp escaping her as their bodies connected. The height difference between them meant that his evident arousal pressed against her stomach rather than her hips, the prominence of his bulge impossible to ignore even through his full-body suit. Glancing down briefly, she could see where the fabric stretched taut, a small dark stain spreading at the tip where his excitement had overcome even the containment of his uniform.

His response to her was primal and unashamed, his body reacting with an honesty his words couldn't match. Each small sound she made—each gasp and sigh—elicited a corresponding groan from him, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and into her own. He mumbled incoherently against her lips, soft words meant only for her, desperate professions intermingled with curses.

"Oh god," he whispered against her mouth, the words half prayer, half profanity.

The moment was shattered by a growl of rage.

Y/N and Mohawk broke apart to find the other variants surrounding them, faces twisted with jealousy and possessiveness. The passionate moment dissolved into tension as four pairs of identical yet distinct eyes locked onto them with tangible fury.

Omni's usually composed features were dark with fury, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl. The perfect order of his appearance had fractured—his hair disheveled from the earlier fight, a vein pulsing prominently at his temple, his breathing uncharacteristically ragged. What made the display so shocking was how completely it shattered his carefully maintained facade of control. 

Sinister's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits behind his black lenses, his shoulders rising and falling with each rapid breath. His gloved hands opened and closed reflexively at his sides, the leather creaking audibly with each movement. The smirk that typically adorned his face had vanished, replaced by a thin-lipped expression of pure rage. Unlike Omni, Sinister made no attempt to hide his emotions—his jealousy radiated from him in almost visible waves.

Viltrumite Mark's jaw worked silently beneath his skin, the muscle jumping erratically at the hinge. His white uniform, though still immaculate compared to the others, bore smudges of dirt and debris from the earlier conflict. His eyes never left Y/N's face, something possessive and dangerous lurking in their depths.

No-Mask's reaction was the most naked, his face contorted with undisguised pain and betrayal. Without the barrier of a mask, every emotion played across his features in high definition—the shock, the hurt, the jealousy. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, as if the sight of Y/N in Mohawk's arms had robbed him of speech. A flush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks crimson with emotion.

HI gaze dropped momentarily to the prominent bulge in Mohawk's suit, the wet spot at the tip of his erection visible to all. No-Mask's expression shifted from pain to embarrassment to anger in rapid succession, his own body responding involuntarily to the sight of Y/N's flushed face and swollen lips.

Sinister caught the direction of No-Mask's gaze and let out a bark of laughter, the sound brittle and sharp. "Getting a little excited there, Mohawk? Can't say I blame you." His tone was deliberately casual, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his own jealousy. 

"Though I prefer a more... private approach to these matters." Despite his mocking words, there was an undercurrent of pure rage in his voice.

As soon as the other variants approached, Mohawk's arm tightened around Y/N, his moment of vulnerability disappearing behind a sneer. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken tension as the others formed a loose circle around them, hovering like sentinels in the devastated sky.

Omni's face was a study in controlled panic. While his posture remained rigid and his movements precise, his jaw muscle twitched beneath the skin, a hairline fracture in his perfect composure. The corner of his left eye spasmed minutely, and a vein at his temple pulsed in rhythm with his accelerated heartbeat. His breathing was deliberately measured, each inhale and exhale carefully calibrated to maintain the illusion of calm while his eyes, behind his mask, never left Y/N's face.

"I thought we forged something unique in the cabin," he stated, his voice carefully neutral despite the accusation inherent in the words. "Was that a lie?"

Sinister's head tilted slightly forward like a predator tracking wounded prey. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, leaving them glistening in the afternoon light. The corner of his mouth curled upward in a half-smile that never reached his eyes—eyes hidden behind black lenses that reflected Y/N's own pale face back at her.

"Don't act so surprised, Omni," he taunted, his voice silky with malice. "Did you think she would be satisfied with your clinical approach to pleasure? Your calculated touches and precisely timed kisses?" He moved closer to Y/N and Mohawk, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face with unexpected gentleness. "She needs passion, fire... not your cold logic."

No-Mask couldn't contain his panic, hovering several feet away, hands opening and closing at his sides. His eyes were wide and wild, darting between Y/N and the blood seeping through her bandages. The crimson stain had grown significantly larger during the brief kiss, the fabric now saturated to a disturbing degree.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Viltrumite Mark snarled, his regal composure shattered completely. His pristine white uniform stood in stark contrast to the chaos of his emotions, the fabric rippling as his muscles tensed beneath. His usually authoritative demeanor had given way to something raw and urgent. "She's dying, and you're all fighting over who gets to kiss her next? Are your dicks controlling your brains now?"

The crude phrasing from the typically dignified Viltrumite Mark shocked them all into momentary silence. He no longer hovered regally above them but had descended to their level, hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw set in a hard line.

"You need medical attention," Omni stated, his voice steady despite the worry evident in his eyes. A single bead of sweat traced a path down his temple, disappearing beneath the edge of his mask. His hands opened and closed at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking softly with each movement. "The infection is spreading rapidly. If we don't act soon, you'll die."

"So what?" Y/N challenged, her voice brittle with pain and defiance. She pushed away from Mohawk, her movements uncoordinated and weak. Blood had soaked through her bandages completely now, the fabric dark and heavy against her skin. The metallic scent hung in the air around her, sharp and concerning. Her eyes burned with fever, pupils dilated and unfocused as she swept her gaze across all of them. "Why should I trust any of you? You came here to destroy my world, to kill everyone!"

The accusation hung in the air between them, sharp and undeniable. The devastation below—uprooted trees, cratered earth, the distant smoke of burning cities—stood as mute testament to her words. From their elevated position, they could see the destruction that stretched to the horizon—forests flattened, roads cratered, and buildings reduced to rubble. In the distance, several pillars of smoke rose from what had once been thriving communities, now reduced to ash and debris.

Silence fell over the group, heavy with unspoken guilt. It was Sinister who finally broke it, his usual swagger absent as he spoke.

"Because we lost you once," he said, his voice low and controlled, though something in it wavered ever so slightly. He didn't remove his black lenses, but the set of his mouth—usually twisted in a cruel smirk—had softened into something almost vulnerable. "All of us, in different ways. And it broke us."

He gestured around at the assembled variants, his movements precise and measured, lacking their usual predatory grace.

"Look at what we became without you. Monsters. Killers." He paused, a smirk returning to his lips as he added, "Well, I was always a killer. Enjoyed it, too. But the others..." He let the implication hang, eyes hidden behind his black lenses but his meaning clear.

He floated closer to Y/N, his approach cautious, as if afraid she might flee again. When he stood before her, he did something unexpected—he took her hand in his, the leather of his glove warm against her skin as his thumb traced gentle circles on her wrist.

"I know you're not her—not my Y/N," he said softly. "But when I saw you, something inside me that died with her came back to life." His free hand hovered near her face, trembling slightly before he let it fall away, as if he didn't trust himself. "I can't lose that again. I can't go back to being just an... empty fucking killer without you."

"Planet shit doesn't fucking matter!" Mohawk's voice cracked with emotion, the smooth veneer he usually wore shattering like glass. He pushed forward, hovering closer, his face contorted with an emotion too complex to name. Sweat beaded along his hairline, causing strands of hair to stick to his forehead in dark, damp tendrils. His gaze never left Y/N's face, drinking in every detail like a man dying of thirst. The prominent bulge still strained against his suit, a visible reminder of their interrupted kiss.

"The main point is—" He stopped, struggling to find the right words. In a movement both desperate and gentle, he pushed Sinister out of the way to take her hands in his. Sinister's face darkened with anger, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he was forced aside.

Mohawk looked deeply into her eyes, his own intense and sincere. The pupils were so dilated that only a thin ring of color remained visible, black swallowing brown in a visual representation of his emotional state. A muscle jumped in his jaw, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His expression mirrored the vulnerability he'd shown during their kiss—raw, unfiltered emotion that he'd never allow anyone else to witness.

"We won't fucking lose you again," he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that seemed to caress her skin like a physical touch. The sound vibrated in the air between them, intimate despite their audience. His grip on her hand tightened fractionally, not enough to hurt but enough to convey his desperation. "Even if we have to share you. We can find a way to work it out."

The last sentence hung in the air, loaded with implications that made Y/N's stomach flutter despite her condition. Mohawk leaned closer, his breath warm against her face as he uttered a final promise, the words carrying the weight of an oath: "You will love us, Y/N... Love me..."

The declaration sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with her fever. There was something in his tone—a certainty, a devotion—that both frightened and thrilled her.

Before she could respond, the air around them seemed to wobble, particles shifting in an unnatural pattern. 

The variants tensed, sensing the disturbance—a tension in reality that they'd felt earlier but had ignored in their confrontation. Now it returned, stronger and more insistent like fabric being stretched to its breaking point.

With a sound like reality tearing, a black portal materialized twenty feet away in the air. The edges crackled with dark energy, ribbons of shadow writhing around its circumference like living things. From its depths, a body was thrown—no, hurled—into their midst.

Darkwing crashed to the ground with a sickening thud, his body a broken, bloody mess. His costume was in tatters, revealing flesh beneath that was more wound than skin. One arm hung at an unnatural angle, clearly ripped backward if not worse. The other appeared to be barely attached, held to his body by thin strips of muscle and costume fabric. His mask was half torn away, revealing a face so bruised and bloodied it was barely recognizable as human. Through split and swollen lips, he drew rattling breaths, each one sounding more painful than the last.

From the portal stepped a figure that radiated casual cruelty—Lensless Mark. His uniform was tattered and ripped, his face and hands spattered with blood. Unlike the other variants, his mask resembled that of a luchador, lacking the traditional goggles and giving his face a strangely naked quality despite being covered. His lips were curled in a smile that held no warmth, only satisfaction at the suffering he'd caused. Areas of his suit were torn at the pecs and abdomen, revealing tanned, scarred skin beneath.

"How touching. The monsters have found their beauty," he drawled, his gaze sweeping over the assembled variants before landing on Y/N.

All heads turned to face him, bodies instinctively shifting to place themselves between Y/N and the newcomer. The protective formation happened without discussion or planning—a unified response from men who moments ago had been at each other's throats.

"So this is what's been keeping you all distracted," he continued, his gaze roving over Y/N's body with interest. Unlike the others, there was no warmth in his assessment, only a cold calculation that made her skin crawl. "I was wondering where everyone disappeared to after I got trapped in there. NO fucking help came for me. "

His appearance shocked the other variants. They had believed him dead, pulled into the shadowverse by Darkwing. Their expressions reflected their confusion and growing concern. With the war still ongoing and so few of them remaining after the brutal fighting, Lensless's return was an unexpected complication.

"What did you all call her? Y/N?" he mused, his head tilting as if considering the name. "Hmm. Yes. Rather mundane, isn't it?"

"This doesn't concern you," Omni said, his voice icy as he shifted to partially block Y/N from Lensless's view. His body language was pure protectiveness now, all traces of his earlier jealousy subsumed by this new threat.

Lensless laughed, the sound sharp and without humor. "Oh, but it does. Angstrom is looking for all of you. The final phase is about to begin." His eyes narrowed behind his mask as he focused on Y/N again. 

"Though I must say, I'm curious about what makes this one so special that you'd take a detour from our true mission."

In a movement almost too fast to follow, he appeared directly in front of Y/N, brushing past the protective circle of variants. His gloved hand reached out, gripping her chin and tilting her face up to his. His touch was neither gentle nor especially rough, simply... clinical. His thumb pressed against her lower lip, forcing it down slightly as he examined her face like a specimen.

"Awww I don't see it," he pronounced, his voice tinged with disappointment. 

"She looks like any other human to me. Fragile. Breakable." His grip tightened fractionally, enough to make Y/N wince. "Already dying from a simple infection. Pathetic."

The attack came from all sides at once.

Mohawk's fist connected with Lensless's jaw, the impact creating a sonic boom that shattered what few intact tree branches remained below. The punch sent Lensless spinning backward, a spray of blood arcing through the air from his split lip.

Before he could recover, Sinister appeared behind him, driving a knee into his spine with such force that Y/N could hear the vertebrae crack. The blow arched Lensless's back at an unnatural angle, his mouth opening in a silent scream of pain.

Omni and Viltrumite Mark moved in perfect unison, like dancers who had rehearsed for years. Omni struck high, his calculated punch landing precisely at the junction of Lensless's neck and shoulder, targeting the cluster of nerves there. Viltrumite Mark struck low, his fist driving into Lensless's solar plexus with enough force to expel all air from his lungs.

The combination of blows sent Lensless plummeting toward the devastated forest below. He crashed through three massive oak trees before hitting the ground with enough force to create a small crater, dirt, and debris exploding outward from the impact site.

No-Mask circled around, waiting for his opportunity, his face set in lines of determination rarely seen on his usually expressive features. He hovered above the impact site, ready to intercept if Lensless attempted to flee.

Y/N hovered, forgotten in the chaos of battle, her condition worsening by the second. The world tilted and spun around her, fever making everything blur at the edges. She pressed a hand to her wound, feeling fresh blood seep between her fingers. The warmth of it was alarming, spreading across her abdomen in a widening stain.

Below, the battle had expanded, the variants using the devastated landscape as both weapon and battleground. Mohawk tore a shattered tree trunk from the ground, hurling it at Lensless with enough force to level a building. The makeshift projectile whistled through the air, trailing leaves and splinters in its wake before Lensless dodged at the last second. The trunk embedded itself in the hillside behind him, quivering with the force of impact.

Omni calculated his trajectories, using precision strikes to herd Lensless into Sinister's path. Each punch was measured and deliberate, not seeking to cause damage but to manipulate Lensless's movements. Where Lensless dodged one blow, he found himself in the path of another, Omni's strategy becoming clear as Lensless was forced closer and closer to where Sinister waited.

Viltrumite Mark moved with regal fury, each blow causing sonic booms to ripple through the air. His white uniform was a blur of motion, seeming to be everywhere at once. Unlike the others, his attacks held nothing back—each punch and kick was delivered with the full force of his Viltrumite strength, intended not to subdue but to destroy.

Despite being outnumbered, Lensless held his own, his childish laughter echoing across the battlefield as he taunted and dodged. His fighting style was unpredictable, and chaotic, making him difficult to pin down. Where the others fought with purpose and strategy, Lensless fought like a child pulling wings from insects—with casual cruelty and evident enjoyment.

"You're all pathetic!" he called out, evading another coordinated attack. His voice carried across the battlefield, high and mocking. 

"Pining after a ghost! She's not even the same woman you lost!"

His words struck deeper than any physical blow could have. For a moment, hesitation rippled through the attacking variants, a half-second of doubt that Lensless immediately exploited. He surged upward, breaking free of their formation, and shot directly toward Y/N.

"Let's see how quickly you forget her when she's gone for good," he snarled, his hand reaching for her throat. The afternoon sun glinted off his gloved hand as it stretched toward her, fingers curled like talons.

Time seemed to slow. Y/N watched him approach, her body too weak to move, her mind oddly clear despite the fever. She could see every detail of his face as he neared—the hatred in his eyes, the cruel twist of his mouth, the tiny scar that bisected his right eyebrow. She could hear the panicked shouts of the other variants as they raced to intercept him, too far away to reach her in time.

In that moment of perfect clarity, something shifted inside her. The power that had been dormant since they'd removed the GDA collar flickered to life, responding to her desperate need. Energy surged through her veins, temporarily burning away the fever's fog.

As Lensless's hand closed around her throat, Y/N's eyes began to glow with an inner light. The blue-white radiance started at her pupils, spreading outward until her entire eyes were luminous pools of energy. Power radiated from her in visible waves, her hair lifting in an invisible wind, strands floating around her face like a dark halo. Her skin took on an ethereal glow, veins beneath the surface illuminated with the same blue-white light that consumed her eyes.

Her hand shot up, gripping his wrist with strength that belied her condition. Her fingers—moments ago weak and trembling—now closed around his arm with crushing force. The material of his suit compressed beneath her grip, the bones of his wrist grinding together audibly.

"Not today," she whispered, her voice resonating with newfound power. The sound seemed to come not just from her throat but from the air around them, as if reality itself amplified her words.

The energy exploded outward from her body in a concussive wave, sending Lensless flying backward with such force that he created a trench in the earth when he landed. The ground split open beneath the impact, dirt and rock spraying outward like water from a broken dam. Trees that had survived the earlier battles were flattened in concentric circles from the epicenter of Y/N's power.

The other variants braced themselves against the blast, shielding their eyes from the brilliant light emanating from Y/N. The wave passed over them, powerful enough to push them back but not to harm them—as if her power somehow recognized them as not-enemies.

For a moment, she hovered above them all, radiant and terrible, her body still suspended in the air by her own power. The infection that had been killing her was temporarily burned away by the energy coursing through her system. Her wound glowed from within, the damaged tissue knitting itself back together visibly, the process accelerated to a speed visible to the naked eye.

Beneath her torn clothing—the fabric of her suit shredded across her abdomen, exposing the smooth skin beneath—they could see muscle and tissue regenerating. The deep gash that had been leaking crimson life across her stomach closed before their eyes, angry red flesh knitting together with pulsing blue-white light. The tattered edges of her suit fluttered in the energy field emanating from her body, occasionally revealing glimpses of the curve of her breast where the fabric had been torn diagonally across her chest. The legs of her suit, stained dark with blood and dirt, ripped low on her hips, frayed and revealing a sliver of skin just above her hipbone.

The variants watched in awe, their identical faces transformed by different shades of the same emotion—wonder mixed with desire, concern tangled with reverence. The setting sun cast them all in amber light, highlighting the tension in their jaws, the dilation of their pupils, the parted lips as they struggled to comprehend what they were witnessing.

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the power faded. The light dimmed, starting with her skin, then her veins, until finally, her eyes returned to their natural color. The glow receded like a tide pulling back from the shore, leaving Y/N looking small and vulnerable once more. Her eyelids fluttered, exhaustion replacing the momentary strength, and she began to fall.

Five figures moved as one, racing to catch her. The air crackled with their passage as they broke the sound barrier, converging on Y/N's falling form from different directions. They reached her simultaneously, each grabbing a part of her with careful strength—Omni supporting her shoulders, his gloved hands cradling her with gentle precision; Mohawk at her waist, his fingers splayed possessively across her exposed midriff; Viltrumite Mark securing her legs, his normally stoic expression softened with concern; Sinister cradling her head with uncharacteristic gentleness, leather-gloved fingers threading through her hair; and No-Mask hovering protectively above them all, his unobscured face displaying every nuance of his worry.

As a unit, they descended to the forest floor, moving in perfect coordination despite their earlier antagonism. They touched down on a relatively undamaged clearing, gently lowering Y/N onto one of the few untouched patches of soft grass left. The setting sun painted the scene in gold and crimson, the long shadows of the men stretching across Y/N's still form like protective fingers.

Omni knelt beside her, his pulse quickening beneath his uniform as his fingers sought the pulse at her neck. The skin there was soft and warm against his fingertips, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat a counterpoint to his own racing pulse. 

"It's steady," he reported, relief evident in the softening of his shoulders. The usually immaculate lines of his uniform were marred by dust and blood, a physical manifestation of the cracks appearing in his carefully constructed facade. 

"The wound is healed on the surface, but the internal damage may remain. Her fever has broken, but she's severely dehydrated and exhausted."

"What the hell was that?" No-Mask asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared at Y/N's unconscious form. His hand hovered near her face, not quite touching, trembling slightly with the effort of restraint. Unlike the others, his unmasked face revealed every emotion—awe, desire, fear—all written clearly in the widening of his eyes and the tension around his mouth. A smear of dirt marked his left cheek, a bead of sweat tracing its way down his temple. 

"I've never seen power like that from any Y/N in our universes."

"The GDA must have modified her differently in this reality," Viltrumite Mark mused, his regal stance betrayed by the concern in his eyes as they remained fixed on Y/N's face. His white uniform, normally pristine, bore the marks of battle—a tear across the chest, a smudge of dirt on the shoulder, droplets of blood spattered across the fabric. The sun caught in his hair, turning the brown strands gold at the edges. 

"Perhaps removing the collar didn't just free her from their control but unlocked abilities they were suppressing."

"Who gives a fuck about the how," Mohawk interjected, pacing restlessly nearby. Each step left an impression in the soft earth, his movements jittery with excess adrenaline. His signature hairstyle, usually maintained with meticulous precision, now lay partially flattened on one side, giving him a lopsided, almost vulnerable appearance. A bead of sweat traced the sharp angle of his jaw, disappearing beneath the high collar of his suit. "Did you see what she did to Lensless? One fucking touch and she sent him flying like a rag doll."

A grin spread across his face, carving deep lines around his eyes that crinkled with genuine joy rather than his usual cynicism. He gestured expansively, his gaze never leaving Y/N's still form. "My—our girl's got teeth."

His expression softened as he knelt beside her, one gloved hand hesitantly reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. The touch was feather-light, his fingertips lingering on her temple with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his usual brutality. "She's more than just a pretty face. She's fucking magnificent." The admiration in his voice was tinged with possessiveness, his eyes darkening as he added, "And she's ours."

"She's not out of danger," Omni cautioned, his hand resting lightly on Y/N's forehead. Though cooler than before, her skin still held an unnatural warmth beneath his touch. A muscle in his jaw twitched with suppressed emotion, a hairline crack in his usually perfect control. 

"That power surge likely depleted what little reserves she had left. She needs proper care, not just field medicine."

A groan from the nearby trench reminded them that Lensless was still a threat. The sadistic variant was pulling himself from the ground, blood streaming from multiple wounds. His suit was torn across the chest and abdomen, revealing muscled flesh beneath, scored with deep gashes that oozed crimson. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheek mottled with bruises. Blood dripped steadily from his split lip, splattering onto the churned earth beneath him in a rhythmic pattern. Despite his injuries, his visible eye gleamed with manic intensity, and his lips were twisted in a grin that spoke of insanity rather than humor.

"You think this changes anything?" he called, staggering to his feet. Each movement was labored, with evidence of broken bones and internal injuries. Blood dripped steadily from his fingertips, pattering onto the churned earth beneath him like macabre raindrops. His chest heaved with each breath, a wet rattle suggesting punctured lungs or broken ribs. Still, he straightened, defiant even in defeat.

"She'll die, just like all the others. And you'll all go back to being the monsters you truly are," he taunted, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground. The crimson spatter formed a grotesque pattern at his feet, shining wetly in the dying light. "We still have a mission to complete! Fuck this world and its beings. Angstrom is waiting for us!"

Mohawk's expression darkened, shadows gathering in the hollows of his cheeks as a savage smile spread across his face. "You know what? I'm going to enjoy this." He cracked his knuckles, the sound like gunshots in the quiet forest. His body tensed, muscles bunching visibly beneath his suit as he readied for the kill.

"Go," he said to Omni without taking his eyes off Lensless. "Take her to the meeting point with Angstrom. I'm done with this piece of shit."

Omni hesitated, looking down at Y/N's pale face. For once, indecision was written clearly in the set of his shoulders, the tension around his mouth. The evening light caught the moisture gathering in his eyes, transforming them into pools of liquid amber behind his mask. A single tear escaped, tracking a clean path through the dust on his face before falling onto Y/N's cheek—a glistening diamond against her flushed skin.

"Don't die," he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. The kiss was feather-light, almost reverent, his breath warm against her skin, carrying the scent of aftershave and something uniquely him. His fingers brushed her cheek, lingering as if trying to memorize the texture. "Please."

With that, he was gone, streaking through the sky with Y/N held securely against his chest. His arms formed a protective cage around her, one hand cradling her head against his shoulder while the other supported her back. The wind whipped past them, ruffling her hair and cooling her fevered skin.

The remaining variants turned as one toward Lensless, spreading out to surround him. The setting sun cast long shadows ahead of them, turning four figures into monstrous silhouettes against the devastated landscape.

"Four against one?" Lensless laughed, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand, leaving a crimson smear across his cheek. The sound was wet and choked, bubbles of blood forming at the corners of his mouth. "Hardly seems fair."

"Good," Sinister replied, his smile all teeth, sharp canines gleaming in the dying light. His eyes were cold behind his black lenses, his posture deceptively relaxed even as his fingers flexed in anticipation. 

"We don't play fair anymore."

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As Omni flew with Y/N toward their destination, her eyes fluttered open briefly. Sunlight filtered through clouds, casting dappled patterns across her face as the wind tousled her hair. Despite her condition, a small smile curved her lips as she looked up at him, raising a hand weakly to touch his face.

"You're crying," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rush of wind. Her fingers, warm and gentle, traced the damp trail on his cheek, sending shivers down his spine.

"No, I'm not," he denied automatically, his usual defenses kicking in even as another tear escaped to contradict him. The droplet caught the light, transforming into a prism for a heartbeat before the wind whisked it away.

Y/N's smile widened slightly, her hand weakly reaching up to touch his cheek again. Her fingers came away damp, glistening in the sunlight. Her lips, still tender from Mohawk's earlier kisses, parted slightly as she whispered, "Liar."

A laugh escaped him, the sound rusty from disuse. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the tension in his jaw easing for the first time since they'd arrived in this universe. 

"Just stay with me," he urged, tightening his hold on her slightly. Her body fit perfectly against his as if designed as his missing piece. "We're almost there."

"Will you share?" she asked, her voice fading as consciousness began to slip away again. Her eyelids grew heavy, dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks like butterfly wings. "With the others?"

The question caught him off guard, making him falter slightly in his flight. "What?"

"Will you share... me? Can you all... love me?" Each word seemed to cost her tremendous effort, her eyelids growing heavier with each syllable. Her fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his suit, holding on as if afraid he might vanish.

Omni was silent for a long moment, considering. The idea of sharing her with the others—his other selves—went against every possessive instinct he had. His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as he battled with himself. And yet... if the alternative was losing her entirely...

"Yes," he finally said, the word feeling strange on his tongue. His voice softened as he added, "If that's what you want."

The admission sent an unexpected warmth through him. The knot of tension in his chest—a constant companion since he'd lost his Y/N—loosened slightly. Perhaps sharing her was the only way any of them could truly have her. Perhaps, in this fractured reality, they could find a new kind of wholeness with her.

Their Y/n.

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I'm losing motivation for this story (Even though I already had the whole storyboard written out). (っ- ‸ - ς), But I'll PULL THROUGH! Let me know if you guys are interested in more plot and perhaps smut later on in the story. Quite literally, maybe even the next chapter...

I'm really trying to include 'love' for all the variants. let me know if you want another or specific one to be included more.

Lensless Mark = No Goggles Mark

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

I love thinking ☺

How They’d React

A Headcanon List - Reader Insert

How [name] would react to:

You wearing their clothes

You surprising them at work for the first time

You telling them you were pregnant

Waking up next to you for the first time

Seeing you naked for the first time

You surprising them at home after they’d been a work all day

You baking them their favourite treats without them even needing to ask

Seeing you talking to your ex

Finding you crying

Hearing that you were seriously injured

Realising what they said had hurt you

Hearing other people flirt with you

Bumping into you all the time when you’re nothing but strangers to each other

You asking them out on a date rather than the other way around

Seeing you in your wedding attire

Being there when you gave birth to your first child

Finding out you hadn’t seen their favourite movie or tv show

Finding out you’d dated someone they knew/one of their friends in the past

feel free to use these however if you do perhaps leave credit by tagging me and including a link to my original post? thanks!