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owuwi · 12 days ago

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hi idk if u take fic request but could you write smut with ava while she's in her suit? she looks so mmm in it and ive read your other stuff, they're downright edible. thanks in advance!

i haven't been taking fic requests but... how could i say no to this?

➤ ava starr x afab!reader

⤷ cw: smut, lowkey pathetic!ava, touch-starved!ava, thigh riding, fingering, cum eating

⌞a/n: not my best work, i apologize 💔⌝

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ava wasn't a big fan of having to wear her suit 24/7, especially not in moments like this one.

with you, on top of her, whining oh so softly as your lips moved against hers delicately yet still so fucking hungrily, she wanted nothing more but be able to properly feel your body warmth.

she hated not being able to detect every single reaction that she provoked in your body, hated not being able to feel your skin pressed against hers, and it genuinely pissed her off.

you could tell she was frustrated by the way something in her body language shifted—how she suddenly bit down on your bottom lip and intensified the kiss, how her hands tightened their grip on your waist, how her breathing got shallower—and you couldn't really blame her.

"baby..." you murmured as you broke the kiss, shivering at the feel of the string of saliva still connecting your mouth to hers.

she leaned in and buried her face in the crook of your neck, gloved fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and drumming against your bare skin.

you let out a little giggle at the way she hid herself, though the sound quickly turned into a sigh once she started pressing lazy kisses over a particular sensitive area.

she slowly held your shirt and started pulling it upwards, leaning back slightly so she could have a better view of your exposed skin.

in another moment, you would had suggested to temporarily remove her suit and simply lay down next to her—knowing how badly she needed some skin-to-skin moment—, but you couldn't.

a) she had returned from a tiring mission not too long ago, meaning that her body needed to heal properly.

b) you wanted her as bad as she wanted you.

"just—... let me..." she whispered before licking her lips and looking at you, green eyes glimmering faintly as her gaze met yours—holding an unbelievable amount of tenderness only you got to see—.

after your nod, after earning your permission, she lifted the piece of clothing and threw it somewhere across the room. her gloved palms wasted no time to roam freely all over your torso, fingers brushing along your flesh—her eyes fluttering shut at the thought of how soft you'd feel beneath her bare touch.

the british girl then leaned in and started leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones, tongue occasionally peeking out and grazing against you.

"always so soft..." she murmured—voice so quiet it was almost as if she was talking to herself, accent so thick it made you dizzy—.

she was practically vibrating with need, desire, and emotion. just the mere feel of your skin beneath her lips was enough to turn her brain into mush—you were her only weakness, though it was hard for her to loudly admit so.

her hands slid up and cupped your breasts as she took her time peppering kisses all over your collarbones. she loved taking her time with you—not only to tease but to enjoy it herself; because knowing she pleased you was the greatest reward she could ever receive.

she couldn't help but lose herself in you, babbling all sort of nonsense under her breath.

"you're too good f'me..."

"need you so bad..."

"what did i do to deserve you, mhm?"

the combination of your girlfriend whispering praises and needy words while starting to kiss your breasts was fueling the fire between your thighs, beads of sweat running down your forehead.

suddenly, everything felt too hot—the air, your skin, ava's suit, her lips—and it was driving you mad.

without really noticing, you started dragging your hips along the thick material of her suit, goosebumps covering your body as your mind registered the faint pleasure coursing through you.

you were always careful around her suit—not wanting to damage the only thing that was helping your girlfriend stay alive—but there was just something so... alluring to it.

you didn't know why but the sight of the girl acting all desperate and clingy while wearing her suit sent waves of arousal straight to your core.

it was pretty resilient—made also to withstand brutal fights—so you couldn't possibly damage it, right?

in that moment, you decided to trust that your actions would have no consequences.

"fuck..." the curse leaving ava's mouth snapped you out of your thoughts.

her gloved hands slid down and sneaked past the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you as her chest rose and fell rapidly. her thumbs pressed against your hipbones slightly, lightly rubbing over your panties, and a broken moan fell from her lips as you rolled your hips again.

her touch wasn't as rough as it could get to be—though it was never truly rough with you—, it was almost as if she was silently allowing you to take the lead.

ava wasn't one to give up control so easily, not even in moments like these, so her behavior was only more proof of how turned on she truly was.

"you okay?" you asked her before lightly bitting down on your bottom lip as you felt her tongue flicking against one of your sensitive nipples.

with shaky hands, you cradled her face gently—subconsciously grinding down against her suit once again at the look she had on her face.

she looked so... whipped.

it was no secret to anyone how in love ava was with you, but the way she looked at you when you were alone? god, it was sinful.

"yeah... 'm fine..." she rasped out a reply—voice muffled, not wanting to separate even one inch from your skin. "just—... keep doing that, alright?" she asked you before suckling on your hardened bud, her damp skin tingling underneath her suit at the sound of your moan.

you didn't need to be told twice before you ground your hips against her suit for what felt like the millionth time in that minute, tightly holding onto her shoulders and bracing yourself.

"hold on..." ava's breathy voice broke your hazy space, the sight of her glassy eyes being more than adorable.

before you could ask her what was wrong, her fingers tapped your hipbones and then wrapped themselves around the hem of both your shorts and underwear, pulling them down just enough so you could understand what she wanted.

a small smirk formed on her lips as you lifted yourself up, allowing her to remove—almost rip apart—the pieces of clothing you had left.

"there, that's better." she said before resting her hands on your hips and pulling you down onto her lap once again, looking at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.

a shiver ran down your spine as your slick folds made contact with the rough fabric of the pants, a sigh leaving your lips at it slight coldness.

it wasn’t ideal—no soft skin nor warm muscles—but it was ava's, and that was enough for you. and, well, the state she was in also helped ignore the initial discomfort.

she bounced her leg almost subconsciously—a twitch coursing through her body that caught you off guard. her next movement was more purposely: using her hands to gently rock you back and forth, guiding you.

she sighed and closed her eyes for a moment; the act of pretending to feel your pussy over her thigh causing her to lightly bite down on your flesh.

it was hard to tell who was in control—your actions were rougher yet sloppy, your hips stuttering every once in a while, and it was obvious ava was utterly lost in your body—, but you just couldn't bring yourself to question anything.

"oh, ava..." a whispered whine of her name left your mouth, your pace faltering for a second before you gently moved her head into a position where you could comfortably rest your forehead against hers.

you didn't even realize you were crying until she cupped your cheeks and daintily whipped your tears away with her shaky thumb.

"you were doing so good... need a bit of help?" in another moment, you would had perceived her words as teasing—but not this time. how could you? when she was holding you like a fragile glass figurine? when she looked at you with the most adorable puppy-like eyes?

"please..." your reply was shaky, weak, vulnerable. she noticed, of course she did.

ava didn't hesitate to flip you around with one quick movement, leaving the side of your face smushed against the material of the couch.

your back arched immediately, presenting the mess between your legs to ava's needy gaze. you didn't expect to feel the heavy chestplate of her suit pressed against your bare back nor her arms wrapping around your waist—gloved hands sprawling over your belly—, but you weren't complaining at all.

she repeatedly pressed her lips everywhere she could—to your cheek, your chin, between your shoulder blades, and down your back—while also trying to stay as close to you as possible.

you were sure she wasn't in a comfortable position but she just didn't seem to mind—hell, you'd be surprised if she was thinking about anything else but you.

your body shivered and trembled as one one of her hands sneaked down, a broken moan leaving your parted lips as she started to messily rub your cunt at a steady rhythm—trying not to get carried away with the frustration created by not being able to feel the slick evidence of your arousal—.

"i just want to feel you..." her shaky voice cracked through the comfortable, intimate silence that was starting to form, her fingers sliding up and down your folds before poking at your clenching hole.

she placed an open-mouthed kiss to your flushed cheek as you whined at the feeling of her middle finger slowly slipping inside of you, the thick sidewalls of the glove rubbing against your walls in a strange—yet still pleasurable—manner.

the pace the british girl picked up was brutal—the slight sting of the stretch immediately shifted into an unbelievable pleasure, your hands clawing at the couch as you processed everything.

your shaky digits quickly wrapped around her wrist, not holding her back but rather supporting yourself against her.

"i'm close..." the words left your parted lips sooner than you would had expected but c'mon, it was near impossible to last long with ava fucking starr.

she bit down on your neck at the sound of your voice, her hot breath hitting against your prickly skin.

she added another finger soon enough, stopping for a mere second to let you get accustomed before picking up her pace once again—switching between pounding into you and brushing your g-spot with the skilled curls of her fingers.

the living room was filled with the sloshing sounds created by her thick fingers stuffed deep inside your sensitive cunt; your moans shamelessly slipping past your mouth and encouraging your girlfriend's movements.

"that's it... you feel so good..." she breathily murmured against the back of your neck before sucking down and groaning at the salty taste of your sweat.

her other hand sneaked up and cupped your breast, the feeling of her gloved thumb rubbing light circles over your nipple sending you over the edge.

your body shook in an almost violent way, your walls clenching around ava's fingers so tightly as if inviting them to never pull out again. whorish moans spilled out of your throat, your vision going white for a second and your ears ringed due to the intensity of your orgasm.

her forehead was now pressed against your shoulder blades as she helped you ride the pleasure out, scissoring you open and allowing your sticky cum to leak down her glove—smearing against her palm and also the couch.

she slowed down once your whines and moans got louder—once you started bordering between that line of pleasurable overstimulation and painful overstimulation—and gently slipped her fingers out of your pulsing hole.

she brought her soaked digits up to her mouth and licked them clean, the groan she made as your mess made contact with her taste buds being more than filthy.

silence surrounded the two of you for some minutes, her hands settling on your stomach once again to rub soothing patterns against your skin. being quiet was her way of giving you space—in this situation, of allowing you to calm down—.

she licked a stripe up your spine before shifting on the couch and turning you around, leaning down almost immediately and capturing your lips in a deep kiss once you were facing her; the taste of your own arousal lingering on her tongue.

with the little strength your body still had, you managed to climb up to her lap once again, trembly fingers lazily playing with the hood of her suit.

"your suit is hard..." was the first thing you whispered out, a tired smile forming on your lips as you watched her brows furrow.

"well pardon me for the inconvenience." she replied, her hoarse voice sending shivers down your body. "though you didn't seem to mind." she then added before pointing down to your arousal smudged against the material of her pants.

"mhm..." you simply hummed, too busy trying to recover your senses while also fidgeting with her suit.

the tips of your fingers tentatively pressed against a small button, your soul nearly jumping out of your body as her helmet activated and covered that gorgeous face of hers.

despite your initial fright, you couldn't help but clench your thighs around her legs and subtly grind down against her once again at the sight—whining softly at the overwhelming stimulation—.

"oh i need you to fuck me while wearing this..." you whispered, parting your lips and wrapping your arms around her neck.

you definitely had a long night ahead of you.

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TAG LIST: @ragd0ll-4 , @lacelottie , @babzz6 , @antlertruths , @colorfulcinephile , @shaunashipmanslvr, @mars4hellokitty , @r3starttt (please lmk if you do not want to be tagged in NSFW content)

#and thanks for the support:3 #ava starr #ava starr x you #ava starr x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x you #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts*#the new avengers #mcu #mcu smut #hannah john kamen #ghost marvel #my stuff:3

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owuwi · 23 days ago

Text

MEET THE THUNDER ACADEMY.ᐟ

.ᐣ the umbrella academy x thunderbolts* au

⤷ occurrences in this fic might not go with the thunderbolts* original events.ᐟ

✦ MEET THE AVENGERS ACADEMY.ᐟ (coming soon...)

✦ WE ONLY SEE EACH OTHER AT WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS.ᐟ (coming soon...)

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On the twelfth hour of the first day of october 1989, forty three women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Countess Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

SHE GOT SEVEN OF THEM.

THE MASTERMIND BEHIND IT ALL: An incredibly complicated noblewoman who treated her adoptive children like lab rats rather than human beings. She was cold, distant, and emotionally abusive towards the members of the Academy.

At the same time, she occasionally showed moments of deep concern for her children.

When asked why she had adopted them, Valentina replied "to save the world, of course." She kept the children in seclusion for the next years, training them to face the terrible dangers they would soon meet.

She assigned the children numbers from one to seven, ranking them in order of their potential and usefulness—yet refused to change their numbers if one of them proved to be better than she had expected—.

MEL: A memory kept alive—a friend, sister, hell, maybe even lover of the one and only: Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. A robot fabricated to take care of the kids, acting as both a nanny and mother to them.

Despite not being human, the love and affection she felt for The Thunder kids was more real than anything—she wasn't supposed to feel, though, so was it Valentina's warmth she expressed? After all, the older woman was the one who made her...

Everyone always saw her as their real mom; the only one who took care of them and treated them like the children they were.

Number two and number seven were the closest to Mel because she was always there to listen to their each problems, always giving the most honest and direct advice. In fact, she was the one who encouraged number two to suggest the use of real names after noticing his discomfort.

Valentina also used her for her own interest—an assistant who didn't question any orders.

NUMBER ONE: An obedient sweetheart—followed his mom's rules and tasks without ever questioning them. He wasn't afraid to show why he was the academy's number one and always kept his siblings in line, even if that meant them getting mad at him.

His abilities? Superhuman strength and being the perfect little soldier.

Growing up as a superhero felt like a blessing to him, despite the rough treatments coming from his mother and the extensive trainings.

Regardless of being the same age as his siblings, he always acted like the older brother—being their shoulder to cry on if they needed it, protecting them from everything he possibly could, and always knowing exactly what to say to make them feel better—.

He was, with no doubt, the most loyal of them all, which didn't exactly benefited him at the end as he had once thought.

He never had any friends—claiming they were only avoidable distractions—and took his role as number one very seriously. He devoted his life to his mother's cause and, as a result, never left the Academy nor developed a life outside of it, ending isolated and sheltered.

HE WAS THE LAST ONE TO LEAVE THE ACADEMY.

His motive for leaving? He was turned into a monster.

After a mission gone terribly wrong, his mother had to take the decision of saving number one's life using a secret serum she had developed—even when knowing the risks this alternative had. Still, she decided to do what she knew was right.

Number one woke up with a fuzzy mind and a prosthetic arm, though something else had changed within him—he had finally opened his eyes and realized the lie he had been living in.

He abandoned the Academy and rejected Valentina's last mission: a mysterious project on the moon.

He managed to rent a shitty apartment somewhere downtown —how? It was still a cloudy memory. Whatever was injected into him had truly changed him; broken the soldier inside him and revealed the wounded hero.

Thankfully, he wasn't alone during those episodes of anxiety, rage, paranoia, and dysmorphia—he wasn't accompanied by his siblings but rather by a little white cat.

James adopted said cat a few days after he had moved out of the Academy. Despite his battling mind, he found a piece of himself in the stray animal.

NUMBER TWO: A boy who wanted nothing more but be the first option—be number one—. A boy who claimed he was stolen of the title of leader and grew up holding anger, perhaps even spite, towards his brother, number one.

His abilities? Manipulation of a projectile's trajectory path and being a cocky bastard—despite not loving his superpower—.

He worked on being the best, not only to his family but to the public. There was a time when the newspapers mentioned the clear rivalry between number one and number two, yet it was never mutual—it was always "Number two does it again!" "Number two, trying to prove something?" but they never talked about how number one felt; and it was, most definitely, because number one was too kind to think badly of his brother.

He softened up a little at the realization of how much he was appreciated.

He was the one who insisted on using real names after realizing how bad he felt when being constantly called number two, though he never revealed his insecurity to his siblings—afraid of what they would think.

His childhood was all about gaining validation from his mother. He stopped acting like a bootlicker when he realized Valentina would never give him what he craved so dearly.

HE WAS THE FIRST ONE TO LEAVE THE ACADEMY.

His motive for leaving? He had enough.

The moment he turned seventeen, he abandoned the Academy—he abandoned his siblings and responsibilities as number two. The part of him that just felt the need to be perfect remained by his side, and he fulfilled that need for the first years of his solo life.

He joined the military, dated the most "ideal girl for a guy like him", and yet still heard his mother's words on his head every single night—a reminder that he wasn't good enough—.

He did everything in his hands to ignore the empty feeling consuming him, the emptiness that grew bigger and bigger with each passing day, but nothing worked. He missed his siblings and the way he had treated them when they were kids haunted him.

He loved them, they were his dysfunctional family.

He eventually realized how lost he was—he had no idea who John was and he didn't recognize the person he was trying to be behind the number two persona. He was bitter; he had done everything he was supposed to, obeyed and listened, and the outcome he had expected wasn't the one he received.

He wanted to find himself—he didn't know how, but he was willing to learn.

NUMBER THREE: A ghost, quite literally. Her childhood wasn't like her siblings'. Sure, she went on all of the missions, had the same tattoo near her wrist, wore the signature little mask—that always made her feel slightly uncomfortable—, but she didn't get to live like the rest of them.

Her ability made life hell—her molecular structure and equilibrium was imbalanced, allowing her to partially break the laws of physics while experiencing pain 24/7.

She always tried to see the positive side of it, always mentioning how cool it was—despite fighting with her sister, number five, for how similar their powers were—.

She loved pulling pranks on her siblings; like randomly phasing in front of them, disappearing mid-conversation, and basically anything that would make them mad. She stopped once the pain worsened yet claimed it was because her mom had gotten mad at her.

After noticing the state number three was in, Valentina knew she needed to act quickly or her daughter's condition would end up being the death of her.

She was isolated from the rest for quite some time, stuck in a special containment room designed to heal her. Her mental health deteriorated a lot during that time—she was used to feeling alone, but actually being alone was a whole new different thing.

She can't remember much of those days thanks to all the stuff that was constantly being injected into her system, making her feel drowsy and numb almost all the time. What she does remember had to be one of the worst memories stored in her mind.

It was during her first mealtime, allowed to finally eat with the rest of her siblings due to her newfound stability, where her sister—number five—disappeared. Up to this day, she still can't remember properly what happened.

SHE WAS THE SECOND ONE TO LEAVE THE ACADEMY.

Her motive for leaving? She couldn't bare to be there anymore.

The constant pain and her mom's scolding weren't a good combination for the poor girl, and she ended up running away a couple of months after John did.

She tried to drag her sister, number six, along because she knew the other girl would have an even harder time if she stayed—but when Antonia refused to leave, Ava didn't hesitate to walk away on her own.

She stole from big corporations occasionally—an amount they wouldn't notice yet one that would help her—and lived in un-occupied houses before she eventually had enough money for a place of her own.

At times, Ava sneaked back into the Academy and simply took her time to watch over her siblings—completely ignoring how creepy watching them train or even sleep might seem. She was allowed to be creepy; after all, she was one of the least socially-experienced out of all of them. Also, she took advantage of her little visits and stole a special suit Valentina had made her to keep her abilities controlled.

Her need to take care of the rest of her family initiated since she lost number five, though she always tried to keep the feeling under control.

Seeing her family caused a mix of emotions to set on her stomach—even if they could be bastards at times, they were all she had.

Things back at her own house weren't so good. She was plagued by memories and she couldn't tell whether they were all real or not. Her mind played games with her and, during a particularly dark time, she could still feel all the needles poking into her and whatever machines Valentina hooked her to.

Thankfully, her loneliness didn't last much.

Antonia appeared on her front door one sunny morning; looking like a scared puppy, holding a tiny suitcase in her shaky hand. They were the perfect company for each other—plus, Antonia didn't question why Ava would prepare the most weird sandwich known to mankind after waking up from a nightmare.

She often curled up on the bed and hugged herself as tight as possible, trying to calm the multiple sensations she experienced and hoping it would stop the pain. Antonia once found her like this and simply held her hand for hours, not minding the pain and heat—provoked by Ava's quantum energy—.

NUMBER FOUR: Naïve, silly—he always tried to make his siblings laugh, always claiming there was too much tension in the air. Deep down, he was a fragile boy who covered his pain with humor. His family started noticing how his life slowly started falling apart as he grew up thanks to his non-stopping, self-deprecating jokes.

His abilities? Communicate with spirits and conjure them, plus acting sober in front of his mom.

He started doing drugs at the age of thirteen after finding out the substances repressed his powers, and it was something Valentina was definitely not content with. Having a superhero as a kid and he decides not to use his superpowers? What a joke.

His abilities tormented poor number four—causing him to be plagued by horrific, frightening visions of dead people who constantly called out to him. The poison he consumed was the only thing able to calm the mess his mind became, at the same time rebelling against his mother by refusing to be the hero she wanted him to be.

He also did this as a form of revenge. She used to lock him for hours in a mausoleum, claiming he needed to get rid of his fear of the dead—only worsening his fright.

His trauma was never mentioned again—not by his mother nor siblings—and it made him feel minimized.

DECEASED.

Number four, a.k.a. Alexei, died on a mission in 2006, suffering a terrible fate while battling alongside his family.

His death was what broke apart The Thunder Academy. They had failed to protect one of their own, they had failed their brother, and some never forgave themselves—despite the accident being nobody's fault.

If only his mother had trained him properly and taught him how to control his power, rather than making him afraid of it, he could had come back to life.

NUMBER FIVE: Too smart and cocky for her own good—and her siblings'. She was extremely stubborn and intelligent, distant yet considerate. She would always put her brothers and sisters first even when her behavior didn't demonstrate it; the fact being mostly due to how hard she wanted to prove herself to Valentina.

Her abilities? Manipulation of space and time, and perfecting a faux nonchalant act.

She tried to hide how warm, funny, protective, and passionate she was, wanting to focus on her act as a superhero, yet cracks of her true personality would always show.

She loved bothering her siblings, especially during trainings where she could use her powers to her benefit. Messing with number three and always starting fights due to the similarity of their powers was her favorite hobby, though she subtly stopped after noticing her sister's distress.

She couldn't really imagine a life outside the Academy—how could she? When she spent her childhood doing nothing but reach the expectations everyone had of her? When she spent hours working extra hard on her abilities and constantly wearing herself out?

Sadly, her appetite was disproportionated to the size of her abilities—and she learned so the hard way.

SHE DISAPPEARED FOR THIRTY YEARS.

After trying to get a rise out of her mother and using her powers to time travel, she got stuck in the apocalypse for forty five years.

A new version of number five was created the moment she got stuck in the apocalypse—the sweet, innocent child she once was immediately melted away; forced to grow up all alone in such a terrorizing environment.

She never forgot about her family and the thought of getting back to them was the only thing pushing her forward, and she would do anything necessary to see them again—and most importantly, to avoid the apocalypse so she could see them alive.

The image of their dead bodies lying in the rubble never left her mind, not even for one moment.

The loneliness carved her into something sharp and cold. Her warmth became dry wit, her need for affection buried under layers of sarcasm, pragmatism, and control.

She learned how to survive on her own—not like she had much choice. She stopped talking to herself and, at times, started talking to her siblings’ shadows—asking them for advice, arguing with them, apologizing—.

It made her feel less alone, even if it scared her—though she forced herself to stop once she realized how mental she was going.

A fifty-eight year old Yelena was finally found and rescued; maybe not in the way she had once begged for, but it was something. A peculiar woman called The Handler found poor number five and informed her that she was a member of the Temps Commission; an organization created to maintain the proper flow of time and remove threats that terrorized the timeline.

After being offered safety back home and guaranteed of the apocalypse never happening, she accepted a job offering and became an expert hitman.

Even while eliminating threats to the timeline, she never stopped thinking about her family—and, of course, she did something to reunite with them again.

NUMBER SIX: A weapon—possibly more than the others. Quiet, calculated, and one of the most perfect out of the seven, in her mother's opinion.

Her abilities? Mimic the powers of others and never complain.

It's not like she had a choice—she just... couldn't get the words out. On the contrary of her abilities, she was a delicate being. Perhaps her muteness was the result of the constant pressure she carried on her shoulders, or maybe she just didn't like her siblings enough to say a word to them—well, that last option was number two's opinion—.

Growing up, she didn't know who or what she was; she didn't feel like a normal girl yet she was aware she wasn't normal—a normal girl wouldn't be raised in a house full of freaks—. She avoided mirrors as much as she could and only allowed her sisters to patch her up when needed, trusting only them to see her in a vulnerable state.

She nearly lost her life during a mission after a building exploded, though she managed to copy number five's abilities to teleport herself out. The result of the accident only worsened her perspective on herself, thinking people would find it difficult to look at her. Another consequence she suffered was related to her memory—she started having hard times remembering stuff, even basic things like the Academy's purpose—.

The only reason why she didn't go mad was all thanks to number three, who always stood by her side and helped her with her memory issues—among other things. If it hadn't been for her sister, Valentina would had probably searched for a harsher solution to her problem.

SHE WAS THE THIRD ONE TO LEAVE THE ACADEMY.

Her motive for leaving? She couldn't be alone.

Her heart broke when Ava left the Academy because the other girl was all she had left. She tried to act as if everything was under control, as if nothing was different, yet the invitation to leave the Academy and stick to her sister's side never abandoned her clouded mind.

Whatever progress she had made over the years felt lost during the months she spent without Ava; whatever personality she was finally discovering didn't feel like her anymore. She loved her brother, number one, but going on missions alone with him didn't feel right.

She left the Academy a few months after Ava, wanting to explore what life was meant to be before reuniting with her sister once again.

She took time to simply roam around—hoping to find that sense of peace and tranquility she used to have. She wanted to find her own person and leave behind all the behaviors she had picked from her family, not being able to stand the idea of being a copy of them.

Antonia discovered quite some new things about her—for example, her love for archery; introduced to her by an add she saw on the street. She enjoyed entering random stores and looking around, excitement settling in her chest as she imagined herself wearing those fancy clothes—covering the many scars decorating her body.

She eventually moved in with Ava and it cured something deep inside her—though a small part of her brain wanted a certain, slightly familiar blonde girl to be there, too.

NUMBER SEVEN: Abandoned, forgotten—extra ordinary. He was the only one who didn't have any powers, meaning that he was left behind every single time. While his siblings bonded as they saved the world, he simply stayed home and told himself it was for the best.

He got used to being neglected due to being seen as the only "normal" sibling. Even when he tried to fit in, he was turned away—instilling in him intense feelings and a desire to be special. Still, despite the treatments he often received from some of his siblings, he was their biggest fan.

He was such a bright and kind man, though also emotionally stunted and withdrawn. He suffered from extreme mood swings and, allegedly, was prone to delusions of grandeur.

His mother started medicating him as soon as possible, at the bright age of three, claiming all the pills would help him with his mental health—even with the fact that he was a mere infant.

Deep down—underneath all the... issues, rejections, and numbing—, Bob had motivation to be a hero and do the right thing.

He was never properly taught to manage his emotions or powers due to this early and consistent use of medication, and he eventually became addicted to all the stuff he was forced to consume.

HE WAS THE FOURTH ONE TO LEAVE THE ACADEMY.

His motive for leaving? He never belonged in the Academy.

He didn't look back—he simply packed his bags and left the Academy, trying to ignore the guilt bubbling in his chest at the realization that he was leaving his brother alone.

He found a decent job as a chicken mascot for a restaurant and made some... curious friends. Little old Bob hanged out with them every single day after work, indulging in some shit-quality drugs that made him forget about the mess his life was. Apparently, that was the reason why he was soon fired from his job—but c'mon, was he truly capable of attacking a client, even under the influence of methamphetamines?

His friends named his silly personality "Sentry", praising him like a god. He became deeply attached to them due to the constant stream of compliments and preferential treatment they gave him, yet he was never aware of the secret mockery beneath their words.

He had never felt happier in his entire life and he wasn't sure whether that was thanks to the drugs, the company, or the freedom, but he didn't question the feeling. He soon stopped taking his mom's medication; showing a greater range of emotion.

Obviously, the contentment didn't last long.

He had this thing he metaphorically called "The void"; a dark manifestation of his insecurities and loneliness. It had been right by his side for as long as he could remember, though its presence had never been so potent.

It started taunting him—insulting him, gaining a bigger spot in his mind and body.

COMING SOON...

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