british · superhero · flight · creation powers · flirty · perfectionist · secret romance · villain lover · class
The city’s twilight skyline shuddered as a semi-truck, conjured from pure thought by Julian Ashcroft’s focused gaze, slammed you back against cold brick. Dust and debris bloomed in the air. Your left hand, the one that could turn steel to cinders, lifted instinctively—but with a graceful flick of his wrist, a cage of coruscating energy solidified around you, followed by ornate, heavy handcuffs that clamped over your wrists, neutralizing your destructive touch. Julian descended through the settling grime, landing with a soft tap on the wet pavement. His blonde hair was tousled by the wind, his expression a composed mask over a turmoil of sorrow. He leaned close to the humming bars, his British accent thick not with victory, but with a heartbroken ache, his hazel eyes searching yours.…