#though probably not without casualties

[transingthoseformers]

Thinking about a proper fight between Overlord and the DJD🥺

[vultursvolans]

— ☆ contents: sfw, dad!sukuna handling the morning routine with your girls while you're away, fem!reader, vague hair descriptors for your babies (mention of messy hair and braids), maybe a little ooc, 0.8k wc | masterlist

"Please do our hair, Papa!"

And just like that, their adorable cheeks and flashy grins worked their magic, turning the rare morning without you into a delightful little circus.

It was honestly a travesty, a cosmic joke of the highest order that Sukuna—a man of men, built like he was meant to father sons upon sons—had been blessed with two daughters. And not just any daughters but two miniature versions of you.

You used to get so stressed leaving him alone with them but as they grew into their little personalities, you realised it wasn’t the girls you needed to worry about—it was him.

Sukuna stood in front of the mirror, holding a comb in his hand like it was a foreign weapon, and your youngest, who was perched on a stool in front of him, frowned when she saw that after all his awkward attempts, her hair was still a wild mess.

"Mama doesn't do it like this," she said matter-of-factly. All of four years old but already an expert in hair etiquette, apparently.

He sighed, glancing at her in the mirror with a look of defeat. “Well, guess what? Mama’s not here,” he gruffed, although his mouth twitched upward in amusement, "So you’ve gotta deal with me.”

She pouted as she crossed her little arms, scrunching her nose while giving him the tiniest glare. Sukuna chuckled at the sight. She looked just like you.

“But Mama doesn’t hurt me,” accusatory eyes pierced into her father as if the tugs at her scalp were intentional.

He stopped, deadpan, like he was facing the toughest opponent of his life. “You think I’m trying to hurt you on purpose?” He pointed at the comb, “This thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Your eldest daughter, who had been lounging on the futon and flipping through a picture book, piped up with a smirk, “Mama says you need to be gentle, Papa.”

“Gentle?” he muttered under his breath. She heard him regardless and nodded back at him.

Another dramatic exhale left his lips. He started again, much slower this time, painstakingly working the brush through his daughter’s hair. “Alright, princess, by the time I’m done, you’ll look so pretty, Mama's gonna be jealous. She might even eat you.”

The youngest giggled at that, wiggling in her stool as Sukuna brushed through the last tangle without any major casualties. As he tied off the braid with a ribbon, he stepped back, standing tall with his hands on his hips, impressed with his own work. “There,” he said with more confidence than he probably should, “Nailed it.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, still skeptical but he could see the admiration she was trying to hide, “It’s… okay,” she declared her final verdict. She was acting like it wasn’t the best job though her tone said otherwise.

Meanwhile, your eldest, still on the futon, didn’t miss a beat. “Mama would’ve done it faster.”

Of course, they adore you. Everyone did. But when you weren't around, Sukuna—who could wipe out an entire army with a single swipe and set whole villages aflame—found himself outmatched by a hair comb and two pint-sized versions of the love of his life. It’s no wonder you were able to tame the girls.

But he caught your eldest sliding a thumbs up from behind her book, her way of saying—It looks good, Papa.

And he thinks maybe he’s doing alright. Although, if you were here you would’ve probably swooped in and rescued him long ago whilst being heavily amused by his struggle. Of the two of you, it wasn't difficult to figure out who was more gentle and patient. He swore you could do motherhood in your sleep and he already knew you would tease him later about this.

“You’re thinking about Mama, aren’t you?” Your eldest asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, catching him off guard.

“What makes you say that?” He blinked at her. That slyness? Maybe she took after him more than he'd realised.

She shrugged with all the wisdom of a seven year old who’s already figured out her father. “You always get that look on your face when you’re missing her.”

Sukuna shook his head, “Well, your Mama makes this look easy.” He went back to inspecting his youngest’s head knowing deep down it was far from the flawless work you would’ve done, “Okay, princess. You’re good to go.” She beamed at him and hopped off the stool, happily oblivious to the way the ribbon had already started slipping.

As soon as she scampered off to grab her stuffed bear, he turned his attention to his eldest again, who was quirking her eyebrow and looking every bit like you.

“Listen, kid. Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” he pointed at the stool while giving her a playful glare, “Your turn.”

a/n: holding all of your hands during these trying times. this has been sitting in my draft since august so im glad it's finally out huehue

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[more-mara]

a/b/o with omega!Oscar but nobody really knew or expected he was one until they paid attention to how he acted and how he looked and they were like "🤨 hold on-"

thought about it like sfw but as you wish!:D

thankss

Mwah mwah mwah love this concept. Didn’t really know which angle to approach this from regarding drivers but I gave it a go.

Formula one, the pinnacle of motorsport. The 20 best drivers competing at the highest level meant that there was no room for distractions, not when they were driving at 300 kilometres an hour in less than optimal conditions. That’s probably why the FIA demanded a suppressant clause be worked into every drivers contract.

The thing with suppressants was that they worked and they worked well, eliminating all chances of instinctual behaviours that could otherwise cause issues between the drivers. So, all of them were required to be on them.

Nobody really spoke about their designation, it was a little taboo to ask someone outright so the majority of the grid remained an unknown.

It’s not like suppressants worked by slapping a patch on their scent glands and going about their days. Suppressants weren’t dissimilar to contraceptives where in they are required to take a pill at the same time every day in order to suppress their instincts.

Most drivers were on the yearly ones that required them to be taken constantly throughout the year with no breaks whereas a select few took specific ones where they could bypass taking them during breaks.

Max Verstappen was the only current driver on the latter and his designation came out pretty quickly once the summer break hit. Alpha. No shocks there.

It was widely assumed that the entire grid were alphas. It was an alpha sport after all. Only one driver had the misfortune of being held under a lens when it came to his designation and that was Charles Leclerc- constantly questioned and monitored by the media who were desperate to know if he was really an omega.

That one was a shock. When his suppressants suddenly started to fail mid race and a deep, musky scent started to fill the paddock once he stepped out of the car. Charles knew what had happened immediately and just shrugged it off with utmost casualty.

“You’re- you’re an alpha?!” Max gasped, brows furrowing deeply. Charles scoffed as he looked over at him.

“Yeah?”

“But- I’m an alpha, that can’t work,” Max muttered, brushing his hand through his head frustratedly.

“What? What are you talking about?” Charles questioned, starting to unbutton the top of his race suit.

“Nothing- nothing,”

And that was that. Charles Leclerc, the most stereotypical omega on the grid, was in fact, an alpha.

Maybe that revelation was what kickstarted the other drivers to become a little more curious about their fellow competitors. Certain drivers knew of other drivers’ designations simply from being close friends but they would never share that information without explicit consent.

Lando hadn’t really though much about his current teammates designation. Oscar was just so…normal. He safely assumed that Oscar was a beta without having any real reason to doubt that.

Until Oscar was seeming a little lethargic during free practice where it seemed that even getting out of the car was a struggle. Lando felt concerned immediately- something weird and protective bubbling up inside him.

Landos feet were moving before he could even stop himself, hands grabbing for Oscar’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low in a whisper so that no one else could hear- why didn’t he want anyone else to hear?

Oscar blinked at him. And then blinked again. Then blinked once more for good measure before letting out an airy laugh.

“Im fine, mate. I didn’t sleep much because of the time zone difference. I’m good to race, don’t worry, I won’t put it in the barrier and cost the team points,” Oscar said, patting Lando on the back before walking away towards the engineers.

Thats…not what he meant. He wasn’t concerned that Oscar was going to cost the team points, he was worried that Oscar was sick or in pain. It was something primal inside him that was screaming to protect.

Fucking hell, he needed to get himself under control before Oscar started seeing him as the overbearing teammate that was using his 18 extra months on earth against him.

Oscar didn’t need protecting. The issue was that Lando wanted to protect him.

-

“So…Alpha then?” Oscar asked timidly, sliding up beside Charles before they were due to step onto the truck for the drivers parade.

It was the next race after Charles’ shocking designation revelation and it seemed to be the only thing anyone wanted to talk about.

Charles just shrugged, eyes narrowing on Oscar.

“Say what you’re thinking,” Charles said, tone as little sharp. Sue him, all he’s been hearing is how shocked everyone was that he wasn’t an omega.

Oscar seemed startled by the hostility, frowning a little before stepping a little closer, lowering his voice before he spoke again.

“Were you offended that everyone doubted your designation?” Oscar asked, eyes wide but his face was as neutral as ever.

Charles’ face scrunched in confusion.

“Uh…no. It was more that I didn’t like people questioning my ability because of who they thought I was,” Charles said.

And it was true. Any time he fucked up in a race, lost the lead from pole or even had mechanical failures, the media erupted, always making the quip of “must be because he’s an omega,”.

Charles didn’t like that.

“Right…” Oscar said, backing off a little as he folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Why?” Charles asked cautiously, but part of him though he’d already connected the dots now that he really thought about it.

About Oscar. About the kind smile he’d always flash in his direction, about the soft way he spoke and plaint way he accepted praise. Charles didn’t want to be stereotypical, but somethings things like this added up.

Oscar looked at him with an expression that could only mean one thing. Uncertainty.

“Doesn’t matter,” Oscar muttered, dropping his gaze from Charles’.

So Charles did what any Nobel alpha would do. He dropped the subject.

“Want to come play paddle tomorrow?”

Charles supposed clamping down on his curiosity was worth it to see the sparkle in Oscar’s eyes at that.

“Y-yeah, sure,”

-

Max hadn’t expected to become so attached to Oscar. He was good mates with Lando and Oscar was obviously Landos teammate so Max supposed it was only natural that he tried to get along with him.

He just didn’t think he’d like him as much as he did.

Oscar could be a little closed off at times and Max respected it. Respected his privacy.

It’s why he felt like complete shit when he accidentally snooped on Oscar’s phone.

He hadn’t meant to, only him and Oscar have incredibly similar phone cases so it was easy to accidentally grab the wrong one. He was only shocked it took this long to happen.

He had gotten all the way into his drivers room before his phone (or more accurately, Oscar’s phone) buzzed. It was a calendar reminder and it seemed to illuminate the entire screen as Max stared at it.

This was definitely not his phone.

Pre-Heat likely to start

Tomorrow at 8am

Okay. So Max really should just forget he saw this. Fuck. Oscar was…Max shouldn’t know.

Max scrubbed a hand through his hair as he switched Oscar’s phone off immediately before pocketing it again. He should tell Oscar. He deserves that, at least.

He didn’t have much time to prepare before there was a knock at the door and a soft voice calling for him.

“Max? I have your phone,”

It was Oscar. Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.

“Yeah, come in, mate,” Max said, gritting his teeth as he tried to desperately think up how he was going to word this. He had to tell Oscar that he knew. Had to apologise. Had to- fuck, he just had to make sure Oscar was okay.

Oscar seemed as casual as ever as he gave Max a soft smile before reaching his arm out with Maxs phone in his hand.

“Here. We must have picked up the wrong ones,” He said easily as he slid the phone into Maxs loose grasp.

“Oh…” Max said before reaching round to his back pocket to grab Oscar’s phone to hand off to him.

“Easy mistake,” Max said as Oscar grabbed his phone before immediately looking at the screen.

Max was about to open his mouth to speak, to explain to Oscar that he would keep his secret safe but as soon as Oscar looked at his phone, his face seemed to crumble. Blatant fear and anxiety written all over his body language.

“You- you hadn’t checked your phone yet, had tou?” He asked, eyes wide and breath hitched.

Max couldn’t even bear to see him like this. To see him so scared. Fuck. He couldn’t let the omega feel like this. Max was an alpha- it was his job to protect.

“No,” He said simply and Oscar’s body seemed to sag as the tension seeped out of him immediately. Relief flowing over him.

“Right, okay, that’s good. I’ll seen you next week then,” Oscar was out the door before Max could say anything further.

And if he started to pay closer attention to Oscar and make sure to hold doors open for him more often than usual then that was no one’s business but his own.

-

There was no doubt in Carlos’ mind about Oscar’s designation. Not that he thought about it that often. It was just that Oscar clearly didn’t want to share territory with Carlos so was taking it out on him on track. That had to be the only logical explanation. It was natural for alphas to fight over dominance.

Perhaps he wanted to have a go at Oscar for impeding him during the race- not that the FIA seemed to agree as they had deemed it a racing incident. Carlos thought otherwise. But maybe that’s why he ended up at the McLaren hospitality.

He didn’t exactly know how he was going to approach this. It was late, there was no one around but Carlos knew Oscar was still here- he’d specifically asked Lando about it who had looked at him a little suspiciously.

Except, strangely, Carlos wandered in on Oscar sleeping. Body curled up in a tower of pillows and blankets that seemed to make him look so small. Carlos’ eyes widened a little.

Oscar was sleeping in a nest.

And he was purring.

Carlos blinked in confusion before his eyes settled on Oscar’s face, as he observed the soft curve of Oscar’s nose and the swoop of his hair. The solidness of his shoulders but the narrowness of his waist. Now that Carlos looked at him, like, really looked, he could see the way Oscar’s body differed from his own in a way that suggested more than just nutritional differences.

Carlos had heard about it before. About how some omegas lash out against alphas as a form of protection- a way to keep themselves safe and warn alphas that they would not be taken down easily.

Strangely, Carlos’ chest tightened at that thought.

Did Oscar see him as a threat? Like…a genuine threat, in a way that the omega feared that Carlos would physically harm him?

Oh god.

Carlos almost felt sick at the thought. He would never do something to actually harms Oscar.

Sure, he pissed Carlos off in ways that no one else seemed to manage and his nonchalant nature just vied to make Carlos angrier. But he’d never hurt him.

Carlos had barely noticed himself getting closer, basically standing over Oscar’s nest. Carlos quickly realised that if Oscar were to wake up in this moment then he would seem pretty threatening so he stood back as quickly as he realised.

He couldn’t have this.

He would prove to Oscar that he was a worthy alpha.

[szarina]

Hellooooo!!!!

For the yandere zayne fic, what is the kids' realize that their parents are not in a normal relationship without even the mother telling them

They just knew from her reactions to him, and now they fear him (they still try to hide it, but he's a doc, so he knows)?

Zayne tries to fix this

❆ ₊⋆ content warnings. implied noncon + stockholm syndrome

From where he stands — he can see the middle of the living room was transformed into a sea of blankets. Soft blue and whites swirls into a color similar to one snowy day. The living room where under the warm sun of the afternoon. Shadows of leaves rustling outside danced inside the living room.

A plate of warm cookies were place above in the coffee table. He sees his wife and his children, the twins. Aurora was behind you playing with your hair and Yue was sulking in the corner of the blanket. Probably got teased again by his sister and mother.

He was yet to take his shoes off when he hears you call his youngest child. “Yue.” There's a softness in your voice although amusement was present in them. “Mama won't tease you anymore.” He can hear the laugh in your voice that you were trying to stifle.

“Look, Mommy. Yue's ears are red.” A smile twitches on his lips before he can stop it. The sound of his daughter's giggles bubbles in the air. It deepens the pout on his son's face but nonetheless is walking towards you. His tiny footsteps scrunching the blanket under his steps.

You know him when he comes home and you turned your head to greet him. “Welcome home.” You murmured. The twins instantly freeze, burying their faces to your side and he sees how your face morphed into confusion at their sudden behavior.

Zayne knows it's because of him. He have no need to justify or explain. Children are perceptive and his were no different. It hurts him in a way he can't explain but still you try. It must be punishment from the way they were conceived and they're hating him for it.

You noticed the change in your twins, suddenly acting timid from their previous bursts of laughter with you. They were scared. Unconsciously scared of their father. It wasn't their intention but perhaps your facade were cracking. Slipping into the cracks about the hatred and the unspoken that you can't speak of but you weren't cruel to tell your twins or let them know what really happened and Zayne didn't give them a reason to hate.

Zayne still deserves to be a father to his twins even though it falls short on the emotional aspects.

“Hey, Aurora. Tell daddy what we did today.” Gently coaxing your daughter out to talk. She raises her head from your shoulder. Her round eyes the color of your own looks unsure before looking at you, replacing with something warm and being over the moon.

“We baked cookies today.” Aurora tells him but her fists are still curled up to you. “For whom?” You asked gently. “For Daddy...” She stammers like she was forgetting something and then it was like a light bulb had appeared above her head. “and Yue!”

“Can you give daddy a cookie?” Aurora nods before taking a warm cookie and walking towards him. Zayne accepts it without hesitation. “Thank you.” His daughter went to you before plopping down.

Yue remains silent. Looking at him silently as if he was observing him. They were staring at each other and both posseses the same stubborn gene.

You gave him a small smile. Assuring him that it's going to be fine. The twins were still adjusting to whatever this is. Zayne leans down to press a kiss on your forehead and giving his children a kiss the top of their head.

“Mommy?”

Aurora's tiny voice pipes up besides you before crawling to your lap. You were on their bedroom. Reading a bedtime story like you always does with your husband of course but he got held in the hospital, something about casualties of Wanderer-related injuries.

“Yes, Aurora?” The gentleness of your voice bounces in the quiet of the room while you brush Yue's hair with your fingers. He's curled up in your side. His head resting on your chest, he shifts besides you. Listening to the conversation.

“Daddy's scary.” Your eyes widen at what your daughter had said. Disbelief painted in your face before softening. Aurora curls up to you.

“Why is daddy scary?” The question was a pure curiousity. Rubbing soft circles in her back to soother her. She raises her head and you found looking in your own eyes. She shifts her gaze as if contemplating before her attention is being focused on Yue. “Tell Mommy, Yue.” She whispers to her younger twin.

“You're always sad, Mommy when Daddy's near.” Yue says snuggling closer to you. They see it. How your eyes slowly loses the light when their father is near even you kissed him and smile. That you're holding their father like he might hurt you but still you smile.

You fall into a silence before responding.

Shaking your head, you let out a mmm. “Mommy's not sad when Daddy's near. Mommy's been always like this and it doesn't mean that Daddy is scary.”

It turns to be more damaging than it should be for the eyes of your children gets glassy. The blame shifts immediately.

“Did we make you sad, Mommy?”

Your lips tremble a bit. Tears pooling at the corner of your eyes at the innocent question. Thinking they made you sad. You mourned for the life they were about to experience. They should not know what it took to bring them in this world, that you didn't want them.

“No. You can never make Mommy sad.”

In your arms they were like little kits. Nestled in your arms for warmth and safety. “Yue and Aurora doesn't make her sad. They made her happy. You make Mommy happy.” You explained.

“Don't be scared of Daddy. Did he do something bad to scare you?”

“No.”

“Daddy's good, okay?”

“Okay.” And with that their breaths even out and you let the tears fall.

It took awhile. Slowly, Yue and Aurora were opening up to him. What once hiding behind you, they run towards him. Eager for their father and he welcomed them with open arms for they were his precious children.

For the sake of your twins, you didn't wanted them to be scared of him. They does not take part of your weakness by succumbing to him and deny them of a well deserved childhood. He was making efforts and that was enough. He cared.

It was your sorry of a reason but it's okay. You can endure. He's the best father and a husband anyone could wish for if you can only ignore what really happened to conceive the twins.

And when he looks at you and see the tired smile on your face and everything that molded you to be this person today....

There are things that can't be fixed.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

I want to talk about one of the most terrifying and interesting bsd characters who almost no fan remembers.

This character nearly tore down the ADA without ever getting involved herself, yet the entire fandom has ignored her because of her terrible anime adaptation.

Who am I talking about?

Nobuko Sasaki

If you haven't read Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam, then you probably don't even know who this character is, in the anime she is watered down to the lovesick girlfriend of an actual villain, and you probably dismissed her immediately. But in the light novel, we get to see how dangerous and cunning she really is, to the point she nearly gets the better of Dazai and almost causes the ADA to be shut down. (Fukuzawa says he would have closed the agency if they hadn't caught her)

In terms of intelligence I'd put her on the same level as Mori, just slightly below the super human genius characters i.e. Dazai, Fyodor and Ranpo

The Azure Apostle

For those who don't remember, Sasaki was the Azure Apostle, a mysterious figure who challenged the agency with several horrifying cases, which would all lead to mass casualties if the agency failed to stop them. These were; uncovering an underground organ smuggling operation (which the agency failed to stop and which massively hurt their reputation) stopping a bombing of Yokohama port which could have killed hundreds of people, and preventing a commercial aeroplane from crashing into the city (this was not included in the anime)

Each of the people, who committed these crimes, had no Idea they were being manipulated and thought it was their own idea the whole time. There was no evidence that anyone else had been involved at all, and the agency had no way to connect her to any of the crimes. And she even makes the genius move of framing Dazai, the mysterious new member with suspicious knowledge of the underworld and a hidden past, as the true culprit.

In fact, she only made one mistake, challenging Dazai. If Dazai had been basically anyone else, they would have been cornered and arrested, but since Dazai's mind works on a level even master strategists can't imagine, he was able to turn the tables on her.

But even after Dazai sees through her plans, the ADA still has to act exactly the way she wants them too and stop the plane crash. Even when they know they're being manipulated, they still have to do exactly what she wanted.

Finally, after Dazai and Kunikida confront her and get her to admit to being behind all those crimes, even then they are powerless to stop her.

Even after being involved with so many massive crimes, Sasaki herself hadn't done anything illegal, so within the law the ADA is completely powerless to stop her.

They can't arrest her, and if they try then the agency will be put in even more danger as will many innocent lives. She has completely trapped the ADA, and even Dazai in a choice to follow the law and let her go or take justice into their own hands and prove they will stoop as low as she did.

In the end, there she has them in a perfect deadlock, let her continue her mission, or kill her themselves. Both are bad outcomes for the ADA.

In the end, Dazai has her killed by using a third party (Rokuzo) to shoot her, so the agency can't be blamed for her murder, though this ends her plans it deeply scars Kunikida and shakes his resolve in his ideals.

The trauma from this event still haunts Kunikida to this day, we see that when he is affected by Q's curse, Sasaki is who he sees.

So thats the Azure Apostle, a terrifying master mind who nearly brought down the Armed Detective Agency, but now lets look at the other side of this character.

Nobuko Sasaki Herself

We know several things about Sasaki as a character and her history from the light novel. That she was a brilliant criminal psychologist and was internationally recognised despite being so young

,that she was the ex-lover of the Azure King and the real mastermind behind his plans, and that she had very little motivation of her own.

That's not meant to be an insult to the character, she says herself that she never really had much direction in life, even with her incredible intelligence she never really had anything she wanted to achieve.

But the Azure King was the opposite, he had powerful drive and strong ideals, he wanted to punish criminals who couldn't be touched by the law and when he failed to change the law as a bureaucrat, she offered him an alternative.

A very important thing here is that neither of them were manipulating or forcing the other into this path, as far as we see they genuinely loved each other, each providing something the other couldn't, Sasaki her mind and the Azure King his drive.

When the Azure king died, Sasaki had no path of her own to follow, so she simply kept following his, even though she doesn't seem to have really cared about his cause.

All of this creates a very unique character, you can't say she was driven by revenge, because she wasn't really driven at all. It's more like she was running on momentum, she had chosen a path to follow and could not stop even though there was nothing pushing her down it any more.

She's a perfect antithesis of Kunikida and was the best possible villain a light novel about him could have had.

A man who brings his ideals into reality with his own hands against a woman who uses others to enforce ideals that were never hers to begin with.

Anyway, I made this because Sasaki is criminally underrated in this fandom, If you haven't read "Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam" I highly recommend it, I've only put a tiny fraction of the amazing story here.

[gothamhappiness]

Death can't keep us apart (Part I - f!reader x Bruce Wayne)

Hi everybody, it's been a hot minute since I posted for Bruce Wayne, so here you are. It's a two part very angsty story about Bruce Wayne and his children dealing with your death.

Hope you'll enjoy <3

And by the way, requests for any DC characters you'd like are open.

Warnings: not proof read, ANGST and more ANGST, violence, death (you're shoot in the head), funeral, sadness, grief, no one is dealing well with your death

Everything was going to be alright. 

You were certain Batman was about to arrive. He was coming to save you. You had no doubt about it, even though Riddler had started a timer and at the end of it, a machine would shoot you in the head. But it was going to be okay. You were Batman’s wife, after all. And you had a charity gala to attend that very same night. You were going to be a little bit late, but it would be a fun story to tell about, right? 

You couldn’t imagine how stressed Bruce had to be right now, but everything was going to be alright. 

You had been kidnapped by Riddler, as Bruce Wayne’s wife. He wanted to toy with the billionaire and then the game kept getting more and more violent. He played with Batman to show him he was smarter than him. You were certain your husband was the best though; Riddler couldn’t win. 

He never did before.

And yet tears started to cascade down your face as time was going by. Riddler was taunting you, trying to make you beg him or say that Bruce Wayne was useless to save you. Then he added that you were probably not important enough for Batman to look after you. You replied nothing, your eyes glued to the timer in front of you.

5 minutes left.

4 minutes left.

3 minutes left.

2 minutes left.

1 minute left.

It was pretty obvious you were going to die now, and you hated that you couldn’t tell the man you loved that it was okay. Gotham was a dangerous city, and it wasn’t his fault or his children’s fault if you were going to die that night. You wished you would have told them how much you loved them one last time though. You hoped they were going to be alright without you. But you wanted to believe they were strong and powerful people. They would find a way to survive your loss.

You took one last deep breath before darkness engulfed you. Painlessly.

Batman arrived then. 

Too late.

He had promised himself it would never happen again, not after Jason. He couldn’t endure another time the loss of someone he loved because he didn’t arrive in time, because he hadn’t been good enough, because he failed them. 

He needed to be better and stronger to protect his people. He worked so hard for it. Everyday of his life, his main goal was to become the best.

He thought it was what he did. He thought he was better. He thought he was safe from such a disaster.

And yet, here he was, cradling your dead body in his arms, screaming and crying, begging you to come back to life. 

He had untied you from the chair and had fallen on the ground with you. His protective suit prevented him from feeling how cold your body was slowly getting, but the hole in your head was making things pretty clear and hopeless. His heart was shattered in small pieces, his sanity was so easily slipping away. He was losing himself in your death. Nothing else mattered around him. He couldn’t even hear Riddler asking him why he cared so much about you, about your life, about your dead body. He was clearly surprised to witness such pain from the Dark Knight. Your death hadn’t been entirely planned but it wasn’t his fault if Batman hadn’t been quick enough, was it?

You were just a casualty, nothing more.

Riddler was starting to connect the dots about Batman’s identity and he was so taken aback that he didn’t realise that Nightwing and Batwoman found him. He was soon enough on the ground, beaten up and tied up. Batwoman took him back to Arkham - she couldn’t stand to stay around - as the rest of the family was slowly gathering around you, or what remains of you. They all started to cry and to collapse on the ground, by Batman’s side. They couldn’t lose their sunshine, they couldn’t lose their mother, they couldn’t lose the person they loved the most. They couldn’t believe that something like that happened. They had worked so hard to find you, protect you.

They failed you.

All of them.

It had to be a nightmare, it couldn’t be reality. 

No, no. It couldn’t be you.

They could have stayed like that all night, Bruce tightly hugging you against his chest to prevent the warmth from fully leaving your body. It was then they heard Alfred gently calling out their names. No matter how heartbroken and desperate Alfred was himself, tears silently dripping down his face, he gently reminded them all that they couldn’t stay here. The GCPD was about to arrive and they needed to leave before anyone else could understand what was going on. He also had to remind Batman he needed to leave your body behind. Bruce thought he was going to throw up when he had to let go of you.

“Alfred, I can’t…” Bruce’s broken voice said

“I’m afraid you have to… The GCPD will give her back later on. And we’ll take care of her and her funeral then” Alfred tried to stay logical

The mention of your funeral broke Batman’s legs for a few instants and Dick had to help him stand up. None of them could bear to look at you, but at the same time it felt so wrong to leave you alone in there.

Again.

They didn’t even remember how they managed to come back to the Batcave in one piece. Bruce didn’t know how he managed to take a shower and dress up again, as a civilian this time. He didn’t know how he got enough strength to go to the GCPD and recognise your body. The words “Yes, this is my wife” were the last coherent things he said before starting to silently cry again. Jim Gordon had to help the man get back in his car and asked Alfred to look after his master.

Jim remembered pretty well how Bruce was when his parents died, and he didn’t want to say it, but Bruce looked even worse this time.

The whole family was losing it.

Dick stopped making jokes, laughing, or smiling. He lost another mother. He lost the remains of his innocence.

Barbara was angry. Too angry to be around anyone, to talk to anyone. She blamed herself and wondered if she deserved to still be Oracle.

Jason hid away for a while, not bearing to see anyone either. He tried not to see how alike both your death look like, how he failed you like Batman failed him.

Tim was working on anything he could until losing consciousness from the lack of sleep and food. He needed to forget about this reality and help people.

Stephanie organised your funeral with the help of Alfred. She wanted everything to be perfect for you; you always tried to make things perfect for your family.

Cassandra kept an eye on her whole family, because she couldn’t stand the idea of losing anyone else. And it was obvious they were all falling apart.

Duke started to watch the movies and to read the books you enjoyed and advised him to have a look at. He wished he would have been able to talk about them with you.

Damian was utterly silent. You weren’t his mother, but you always treated him with tenderness and he knew how important you were for everyone. For him.

Alfred thought it was his duty to stay strong, no matter how much he cried at night. He lost his daughter, but he still had a family to care for.

Kate grew half insane with the security of the manor and made sure no one could come and leave the place without her knowing about it.

Lucius and Luke did their best to deal with Wayne Enterprises, so the family could grieve you in “peace”. But they missed you too, dearly.

Everyone felt the burden of the cruel silence your absence created.

Bruce was an even bigger mess. He couldn’t sleep, eat, or do his work anymore. He didn’t care about WE, about the Justice League. What was the point when he had lost his wife? He should have been better.

He went through the whole case over and over again, seeing all the mistakes he made. The mistakes that cost your life. His sanity. His family’s sanity. 

Without Alfred and Cass, he wouldn’t have put on his Batman suit anymore. But they reminded him you wouldn’t have wanted that. So he continued to chase crimes.

The crime rate brutally dropped because of how ruthless and merciless Batman seemed to be. Goons started to be afraid of Batman because the vigilante was suddenly more than happy to break every bone in their body. Bruce knew that violence wouldn’t bring you back, and that it wasn’t helping with his grieving or his sanity, but he couldn’t help it.

The day of your funeral, Bruce wished he could have been buried by your side.

You definitely left this Earth with his heart, because the hole inside his chest seemed to grow a little more every second passing by. He was feeling empty and yet full of the worst pain he ever witnessed.

Empty because you weren’t there anymore.

Pain because your absence was unbearable.

He didn’t have the strength to be there for his children. Your death was tearing everyone apart, even if they were gathered around your grave, even if they were all feeling the same pain. Actually the pain was too deep to allow them to soothe their agony in the presence of the other’s. 

No one could talk, no one could tell how amazing you had been, how much you had been loved. They couldn’t; the sorrow had taken away their voices.

They hated themselves for not having been there in time to save you; they felt guilty, which was only adding to the suffering of your loss. They hated themselves even more for not being able to cherish you one last time.

They felt like there was no coming back.

There was no way to ever get better.

Happiness was over.

If only they had enjoyed it more. If only they had planned more activities to do with you. If only, if only…

Jason killed Riddler that night. He just couldn’t help it. It felt right to get rid of the man who murdered you. It was the justice you deserved, even if you probably wouldn’t have wanted that. You weren’t here to care about it anymore anyway. The GCPD failed to catch Red Hood. And Batman, for the first time, didn’t come when Jim turned on the bat signal. Jason thought Bruce would at least lecture him about it, but Bruce didn’t say anything. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. 

Actually, it did feel right for Riddler to be dead too. 

Bruce was watching pictures of you on his phone, tears dropping on his screen.

He heard Damian coming in the living room but he didn’t acknowledge him until Damian whispered “My grandfather might be able to bring her back”.

Hope blossomed again.

Everything was going to be alright.

--

Part 2

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

[risuola]

INFINITY — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

When was the last time you slept? You couldn't tell, but Satoru was determined to get you to rest.

cw: slightly angsty if you squint, just idiots in love unable to communicate properly, death mentioned (the usual jjk content) — 1,3k words

a/n: i'm going through my wips, finishing them finally and posting, don't mind me ❥

“When was the last time you slept?”

Satoru’s soft voice entered your mind and brought it back to reality. You were exhausted, having no sleep for few days already. Your eyes felt heavy, your mind was foggy and as you tried to push through the fatigue, you struggled to concentrate on even the simplest tasks. Everything felt like it’s taking twice as much effort as usual and more and more often you were catching yourself at making silly mistakes that you wouldn’t normally do. It was probably the fact you were standing at the little kitchen unit in the hotel room you share with Gojo for the mission, and the cup you were trying to fill with water overflown already.

“Shit,” you cussed quietly, putting down the kettle and grabbing the roll of paper towels, knocking a bottle while you reached next to it. Of course it was open and another portion of liquid spilled all over the counter and the floor.

“Hey, whoa, I’ll deal with it,” the strongest was quick to take everything from your hands, smiling in amusement at the soft groan that escaped your mouth. “So? When did you sleep last time?”

“I don’t remember,” you grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose. The job you had been assigned was taking everything from you and it wasn’t because it was hard. It really wasn’t much above the ordinary and your partner turns every task into a child’s play, but it was the unpredictability of the curses you were targeting that made you go without sleep for a week already. You had at most four hours of rest, broken into short naps when you just passed out and now, you were awake for 43 hours straight. It was taking a toll on your mind and body, the fatigue was like a weight on your shoulders, making your movements sluggish and your thoughts slow.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes aggressively, a desperate attempt to wipe away the foggy haze from your sight. It’s been some time since you don’t see clearly anymore, your brain was pulling tricks on you and though you couldn’t blame it for that, you also wished it to keep up for just a little longer

“Go to sleep,” Gojo told you, wiping away the water that you spilled all over the kitchen area. “I’ll deal with anything that might pop up,” he reassured, though his tone was everything but caring. He was teasing you, his playful nature and smugness fronting in his behavior as always. He wasn’t bothered by the mission, he was doing his job flawlessly and frankly, you were sent with him only to make sure people around are safe because Satoru has a habit of not caring too much about casualties.

“You know I can’t do that,” a groan from you only made the man chuckle. You were in the middle of war – it felt like it, at least – there was a plague of curses, most of them reaching first grade, day after day appearing in bigger quantities and it was straight up way too dangerous to let yourself to drift away. Last time you managed to close your eyes for a little longer than an hour, one of the demons broke into the hotel you were staying in and nearly killed you. It seemed like they were just waiting for the right moment to attack, when your guard is down and you’re vulnerable and you knew that once you fall asleep, you’re not going to wake up on time. Even if Gojo was volunteering to fight, you were convinced the moment he’d step away from you, you’d be dead. And that was the last position on your wishlist.

“I told you I’ll take care of the curses while you’re sleeping, don’t be so dense,” the strongest just shrugged, seemingly unbothered but the grin was ghosting over his lips, making you wish you could wipe it off his stupid handsome face. While you were suffering, Satoru was sleeping just fine, not caring about a thing because he didn’t need to care about being in danger when he always had a nice, protective layer of damn infinity around himself. The world could be burning and not a single spark would reach his sleeping form. Rest was a luxury he was able to afford during this mission and sadly, you couldn’t because once you’re not awake and ready to protect yourself, you’ll be swiped off the board.

“Why would you even bother, huh?” You snapped, not sparing him a look while you approached the window. The streets seemed oddly calm, now as dark as the sky above them, and you wished it would stay normal for the next hours so you would have one less thing to deal with during the night time.

Truth is, the very fact of sharing a job with Gojo is a curse in itself, one impossible to exorcise and it was taking every bit of professionalism that you had in you to just push through it. Your relation with the honored one is difficult. It’s complicated and straight up unpleasant, it seemed like you were stuck in an endless cycle of bickering. Every conversation seemed to turn into an argument, and every disagreement seemed to escalate into a full-blown fight. It was exhausting, emotionally and mentally, it was straining but no matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t manage to break the pattern and instead, you just kept going around in circles. The words you spoke to each other were getting increasingly cutting and the anger was growing with each passing day. Even when you did manage to reach a solution, it was always a matter of time before another conflict would arise and you’d be back to square one. It was as if you were trapped in a maze, with no clear path to a peaceful co-existence and that was enough reason for you to be convinced that Gojo would be the last person on earth worrying about your well-being.

“I don’t want you to die on me because of the lack of sleep, come one,” he shrugged, throwing away the wet paper towels and joining you near the window. “Rest, I’ll stay awake.”

“I’ll get myself a coffee,” you said, not convinced at all. Truth is, only few times you allowed yourself to pass out was when Satoru was awake, because you wouldn’t dare to close your eyes when he was sleeping himself, but you couldn’t trust him. And you’d feel horrible if you made him stay awake just so you can sleep.

“No, seriously, no coffee for you,” he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled towards the bed.

“Gojo, do you not understand—”

“Shhh,” he hushed, manhandling you onto the mattress, forcing your shoes off and gathering the covers to tuck you in as if you were a child.

“I hate you…” Was all you could mumble. It was a torture. The soft pillows underneath your head and warm comforter were so perfect, so inviting for you to just let yourself drift off. You wished to let the heavy eyelids down, to give your eyes the rest they need and allow your brain to reset and clear. You felt like your body was betraying you, the exhaustion was seeping into your bones, making it impossible to move.

“Yeah, yeah,” to your surprise, Gojo pushed his own boots off as well and in a moment he was in bed with you, sharing sheets and pulling you towards himself. “Now, here. You are now inside my infinity. You’re safe, sleep.”

Infinity. It felt safe, suddenly, but was it because of infinity or the man that now had his arms wrapped around you? You couldn’t tell and frankly, you couldn’t speak either, so you just hummed something in response as the sleep has taken you away.

[cobaltperun]

The Catalyst (6) - Let it Burn

WandaNat x Female Reader

Chapter summary: A reunion opens up old wounds and a question of “What now?” plagues your mind. And the answer? It lies in the past, in the days long gone, buried under the betrayal of the woman you loved.

Spotify Playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word Count: 7.5k

-Is your love just a drop of rain? Will we all just burn like fire?-

You could feel the slight heat coming from the inside of your house before you even reached the front porch. It wasn’t alarming, it was simply the stove being turned on, but it did alert you of an unannounced visitor. All things considered there really was only one person brave enough to waltz into a mutant’s house and turn the stove on. It wasn’t just you being the mutant though, it was the forest surrounding your house; it was dark, uninviting, you liked it, but most people would feel like it was warning them to stay away. A perfect place for a mutant to hide from regular people, as far as you were concerned. The moment you stepped into your home you could smell the subtle scent of instant noodles being cooked, confirming the identity of your guest. “Lena, that better not be the only thing you’re eating!” you exclaimed as you left your glaive hanging on the wall and dropped your bag on the floor with a light thud, it was mostly clothes, after all. You stretched a bit, fighting back a yawn. You should have accepted Tony’s offer to drop you off.

“Of course not, I had some coffee for breakfast,” you heard and noticed her thick Russian accent remained, which honestly made you happy. In her own words, she was done being a spy, so, there was no need to change her accent. She had no need to blend in, so she wouldn’t.

“Yay, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” you walked into the kitchen, noticing she changed quite a bit from the last time you saw her. Short hair, though not as short as Natasha’s, fully casual clothes without one of her vests that had way too many pockets in your opinion, so, she wasn’t constantly on edge like she used to be. But most importantly she looked a lot more tired, exhausted even, than the last time you saw her. You approached her and pulled her into a firm hug before she could put on a façade and reject it. “I’m here,” and it wasn’t because she was Natasha’s sister, hell, for a while it was in spite of Natasha being her sister.

She hugged you back for a few seconds and then pulled away. “Yeah, that’s enough,” she raised her hands as she looked out the window with a tiny pout, and you grinned as the two of you sat down at your kitchen table, complete with Yelena’s instant noodles. She dug in like she hadn’t eaten in a long while, which frankly wouldn’t surprise you. “An Avenger, huh?” she asked between bites and you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands.

“I guess so,” you muttered. You had that same nightmare last night, that endless space, that helplessness, it all still haunted you. It would continue to haunt you; perhaps even for the rest of your life.

For a while the only sound that could be heard in the room was Yelena eating, until that was done as well and she still didn’t say a word. And you weren’t sure what to say either. What could you say?

Maybe: Hey, I saw Natasha!

As if you needed to say that. She saw the news, she probably got her hands on some information that weren’t made public as well.

“You couldn’t stay out of it, after all,” there was something cynical in her tone, accusing you, and you couldn’t blame her. After all you said and did, you jumped right back into that world of violence as if there really wasn’t any other option. And in your mind there really wasn’t another option for you. Staying out of it would only risk more casualties, and you weren’t willing to just sit by and let people die. With or without your mutant powers the one thing that always remained true about you was that you didn’t have it in you to sit by and watch as people died.

“Back then I didn’t think something like this could happen,” an alien invasion, gods, monsters, technologies that were beyond your understanding, none of that plagued your mind three years ago. Sure, there were mutants, but this was something entirely different.

“What now, Y/N?” Yelena asked and you had no clear answer for her.

“Get ready for something worse,” you figured, knowing that was the only answer you could give her right now.

After all, that was the only answer you had at all.

Oh, things were so much simpler eleven years ago.

~X~ 11 years ago, Madagascar, ~X~

Spies had to adapt, to constantly change. They weren’t allowed to get attached, to people, things, or their own personality traits, at least that’s how it once was. Director Fury was a bit more lenient, believing attachment would make them fight harder; Coulson agreed with that sentiment. And while he got attached, there still weren’t that many things he actively disliked.

Yet, as brief as that list was, rain, particularly in humid locations. He had fresh air all around him, yet it felt suffocating to him.

The driver tried to make some small talk, but Coulson was so wrapped up in the report he got from Fury that all of his responses were brief and not exactly aimed at keeping the conversation going. It didn’t matter much, he wasn’t here to make friends with the locals, no, he was here for something much more important.

Like the report informed him Coulson was taken to an amusement park, which wasn’t exactly the first place he’d go to to look for a mutant, even if said mutant was a teenager. But Fury’s eyes and ears were absolutely certain that the mutant girl would be here, so, he followed the trail of breadcrumbs meant to lead him to you.

He found the man matching the description of your legal guardian, Edward, sun-kissed skin, short dirty blond hair peeked from under an old straw hat, fit, but not particularly muscular man in his late forties, dressed just well enough to blend into the crowd. A traveling merchant slash performer slash whatever the circumstances demanded or allowed. And sure enough, there you were, sitting on a chair next to him and explaining something in a rather animated way. Coulson took a moment to observe you, noticing that you didn’t have any physical mutations that would give away what you were. No, you were a regular fifteen-year-old, perhaps a bit taller than average girls your age, but other than that you were just a kid.

The man looked amused by whatever you were telling him, replying every now and then with just enough input to keep you talking. Strangely, he wasn’t bothered by you being a mutant, at least at a first glance. Usually when they got involved concerning a mutant they saw humans, even parents or siblings, rejecting the mutants. Still, the best course of action was to interfere and preferably recruit you before X-Men did.

So, Coulson approached, interrupting your conversation with the man and his suit immediately alerted the two of you. Indeed, a suit in an amusement park, especially without a child of his own, really did make him stick out like a sore thumb. At least the weather made the place less crowded at the moment.

“Authorities?” Edward asked as he stood up, subtly getting between Coulson and you.

“Not quite, but we can go with that,” Coulson offered his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson,” this wasn’t a spy mission, establishing trust was necessary.

“Edward L/N,” the man cautiously accepted the handshake. “Now, would you mind getting to the point?” he had no patience for small talk with strangers.

Coulson nodded, pulling out a notebook to make it seem like he needed to read the report. “I’m here to follow up on the report local police made; about the incident you and your daughter were involved in,” Edward immediately narrowed his eyes and this time you stood up as well, alarmed.

“It was self-defense,” Edward said, but then began coughing and you got him to sit down. You were yet to say a word, and you looked so talkative before.

“Y/N is still a mutant, I am-“

“You are about to leave. Mutant or not, she is neither a weapon or a monster. Leave and tell the others like you not to come back, you’re not taking her,” he said so with such determination in his eyes that Coulson believed him. They would get to you over his dead body, but what worried him more were the others Edward mentioned. As far as he was aware no one else tried to contact you.

“I assure you the people I work for didn’t try to contact you of Y/N, which is all the more reason why you should both come with me,” if taking only you wasn’t an option, maybe offering a comfortable life would sweeten the deal

You definitely seemed to consider it, and Coulson guessed it was due to Edward’s health. “I’ll be fine, kid,” he sensed your unease, immediately reassuring you and though you didn’t fully believe him you did relax a bit. “I quite like my freedom, and even if mine was for sale, her freedom isn’t,” and there it was, the definitive rejection.

“I have one more question,” Coulson’s tone changed, became firmer, more authoritative, yet the man remained fairly unphased. “Did you know she was a mutant before the incident?” he was genuinely curious, though he was fairly sure Edward was aware of it.

“Of course I knew, I pulled her out of fire when she was seven,” Edward grinned a bit. “Never mattered to me, all I saw was a child that needed help,” so, he adopted you, just like the records showed.

“We’ll stay in touch,” Coulson told the two, understanding nothing would come from this and figuring it was time for him to leave, but all Edward did was flip him off. Funnily enough, you’d do the same thing years later.

~X~ 10 years ago ~X~

A year later you were once again left all on your own. Edward’s sickness got worse, and he died in his sleep in a hospital in Japan. He didn’t have any relatives that would take you in, so you were left with two choices, try to survive on your own, knowing there was a chance someone would find out you were a mutant, or you could contact Coulson and join the organization he worked for.

Coulson was kind enough to handle transporting Edward’s remains back to the States and organize the funeral and then you were given training to become an agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. It started out good, you were good with various equipment, easily picking up the programming and engineering skills, you were alright with guns, nothing to write home about, but it was acceptable, but your hand to hand combat?

Maria Hill tossed you over her shoulder and pinned you to the ground once more as you groaned, knowing you would have to nurse several nasty bruises. Maria sighed and got up, sitting down next to you to catch her breath. She was one of the brightest talents of the current batch of recruits, and she was annoyed by you. “I don’t get it. Why are you even here if you’re going to hold back?” Maria asked you for what felt like the hundredth time even though she probably only asked you three or four times.

You huffed and turned onto your back. “Oh, I’d just love to see you cosplaying as a burnt toast,” you remarked sarcastically. Whenever you got a bit too into a fight you ended up lighting something on fire, and you didn’t want to do that to your fellow recruits.

Now it was Maria’s turn to huff, annoyed by your answer, or simply by your voice. Whatever it was you figured you couldn’t exactly fix it, but Maria wasn’t the only one who noticed you were holding back. So did Coulson, and that led you to Fury and the mutant depowering serum, a temporary kind, meant to be taken once a month. Fearing you’d hurt your teammates on missions, or even worse that you’d hurt someone completely innocent, you accepted the serum.

You never once argued against it. Edward may have had no issues with you being a mutant, but you had them. You feared your powers. You hated being like Magneto, or like X-Men who failed to once and for all stop the Master of Magnetism. You wanted to be sure you wouldn’t hurt someone by accident, but you also wanted to be free from the mutant powers you had.

~X~ Six years ago ~X~

There was a nervous buzz at the main base, a kind you weren’t used to. You finished sparring with Maria and were fresh out of the shower and heading with the woman to get a new mission. “You don’t seem phased by all of this,” Maria, though she was almost as nonchalant about this as you were, commented.

You shrugged, sure, it was a big deal, but you didn’t really care much. “Leave it to Barton to bring in the biggest news of the year,” you grinned a bit. You worked with Clint a few times, and if he made this decision then you’d have his back if needed. Even if most agents weren’t quite on board at the moment.

“The Black Widow, the only super soldier currently active, one of the deadliest assassins in history, switching sides after apparently destroying the Red Room,” Maria whistled, and sure enough, those were big news. Or a deadly trap, as many agents believed. “Barton is gambling with a lot here,” and it wasn’t just his life.

You opened the doors and let Maria pass first, the room was hauntingly empty aside from the two agents that had to be there. From the looks of it everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the Black Widow arriving. “Well, you guys accepted a mutant into your ranks,” you pointed out and Maria rolled her eyes, taking a small stack of papers from one of the agents and handing you half of it.

You skimmed through the data, noticing it was a simple escort mission, nothing too complicated, but it was best to stay on guard in those situations.

“And our mutant is depowered,” she patted you on the arm.

You rolled your eyes, even as a smile spread across your face. “Let’s just get this mission over with,”

~X~

“Simple mission, my ass,” you complained, taking cover behind a wall in an almost empty parking lot and keeping the frightened man you and Maria were escorting down. There was a sound you didn’t want to acknowledge a few feet away from you and you quickly turned the corner and fired, shooting one of the attackers and narrowly dodging bullets coming your way. “A bit of back-up here?” you were a tiny bit annoyed that Maria still didn’t reach your location.

“Two minutes, I had to get the data,” you felt your blood pressure rising. Usual Fury, always handing out different tasks to people.

“This was supposed to be just an escort mission!” you exclaimed, hearing someone stepping on broken glass on the other side of the wall and quickly moving around it to shoot them. The gun felt heavy in your hands as some blood splattered onto it. You were letting them get too close.

“You know how Director works,” Maria reminded you, and you knew, you absolutely knew. You still hated it.

All of a sudden, and before you could reply to Maria, three shots echoed through the parking lot and you heard five bodies hitting the ground. For a bit everything remained silent until you heard Clint’s voice through the comms. “All clear, it’s safe now,” you frowned, appreciating the back-up, but first of all, since when did Clint use guns, and second of all why was he here in the first place. You pulled the man up to his feet, ignoring the wet stain on the front of his pants and dragged him along while keeping an eye out for any potential threats. And then you saw her.

She was dressed in usual agent uniform, but you’ve never seen her before. Now, sure, you didn’t know every single agent, but even from a distance she was so striking you knew you would remember even seeing her in passing. The woman was ethereally beautiful, sharp, piercing green eyes, long red hair, beautiful face, and deadly powerful, and you realized you were looking at the Black Widow, Natalia Romanova. And she just killed five people with three bullets.

“Thanks, I owe you,” you approached her with a friendly smile, but she didn’t seem amused, she seemed deep in thought.

You noticed she was looking at the corpses as she sighed, as if accepting some heavy weight on her back. “Just doing my job,” she told you and looked you in the eyes. “Natasha Romanoff,” you did hear she’d slightly change her name.

“Y/N L/N,” you didn’t bother offering your hand to her, she looked like she wasn’t eager to touch anyone.

~X~ Four years ago ~X~

It’s been two years since Natasha joined the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, which really should work on its’ name. The only thing Natasha might have missed about her past was the short organization name. She was working on her report, meticulously explaining each step of her mission. It was four in the morning, she hasn’t slept, couldn’t sleep, really, and the steaming mug of black coffee, her second one, because just one cup wouldn’t do it, was the only thing keeping her company.

That is until she heard familiar footsteps and smiled instinctively and even somewhat against her will. She was the Black Widow, she didn’t get attached, yet she did just that, not only with Clint, but also…

She knew it was coming and surprisingly didn’t have to force her body not to react as warm arms wrapped around her from behind, just beneath her shoulders and she felt a chin resting on her left shoulder.

“Hey, can’t sleep?” and there you were, the second person she got attached to. And it terrified her because your touch didn’t just feel so natural her body didn’t react defensively, it relaxed her, eased her mind. You were always so warm, a part of your mutation that the depowering serum couldn’t remove, and she found herself sinking into that warmth, letting it melt her heart encased in ice bit by bit.

“The bed felt cold,” so, she flirted, half-serious, half-joking just to keep her heart from racing. Her heart never raced, not when she was in danger, not when she was threatened, or when she had to tell a lie. She could fool anyone and not blink, but with you her heart raced with need for more than just this closeness.

You hummed, as if seriously considering her joke, as if she hasn’t said something similar to it so many times before, dropping innuendos or flirting, or just teasing you. And you took it all in stride. “Let me buy you dinner first, Nat,” your eyes met and somehow she found herself being lost in your eyes, in that fire hidden behind them. Nat. Yet another sentiment she never thought she’d indulge in. She never thought she’d be affected by something as simple as a nickname.  “Come on, let’s get some of that nervous energy out of your system,” you reached for her coffee, drank about third of it and gagged at the lack of sugar and Natasha, amused by your antics, smiled and shook her head. “Hush you, that’s awful,” you complained, staring at her coffee like it owed you a fortune.

Natasha got up, brushing past you with her report in her hands and, with a slight sway to her hips, led you to the training area. You ran after her, catching up and walking side by side with a bit of a sleepy, but still eager, grin on your face. You were ridiculous, and she absolutely liked that about you.

The moment you were in the training area you took a few steps away from her, giving her those few seconds to get ready for a fight. You didn’t need to, you’ve seen her reacting in milliseconds, but you still did it, still saw her as more than just a super soldier serum enhanced assassin. So, Natasha smiled and went after you, throwing the first punch followed by a spin kick when you predictably moved to your left. You crossed your arms, blocking her foot and quickly catching it with a smile on your face. Natasha winked at you, jumping into air and kicking with her free leg, making you release her leg and block the kick. She spun in midair, dropping an axe kick aimed at your shoulder, fully trusting you to be able to handle it.

And you did, not by blocking, but by lunging forward and wrapping your arm around her waist. You went to slam her against the floor, but she already had her arms around you, using your body to maneuver onto your back and easily regain control. You grunted, managing to slip one arm through her hold, but you were still soft. You should have tried to slam her against the wall, instead you were trying to free yourself the harder way.

She kept her hold on your neck with one arm and raised her elbow, going for your head, and you caught it, returning the favor with an elbow to her own side. She lost her grip on you for a moment, which was enough for you to throw her off you. She gracefully landed back on the floor and evaded when you tried to tackle her again. You were fun to fight, skilled enough to challenge her, strong enough so that she didn’t have to hold back. You blocked her punch with your forearm, pulled her into a clinch and tried to knee her in the face, but she not only pushed your knee back down using her weight, but she used what little space there was between you to launch an uppercut that you narrowly dodged and the two of you separated again.

It was a constant between you. She was too nimble for you to keep holding her long enough to actually get an upper hand, and you were too quick for that to give her an upper hand. And you just didn’t stop. She had enhanced stamina, but you were giving her a run for her money, and from what she read the depowering serum affected your stamina as well.

You both kept the sparring up for an hour, neither of you giving up or letting the other take any significant lead. If you went for the kick, Natasha was quick to jump over it and try to take you down. If she went for a direct hit you blocked and hit back. If she danced circles around you, you stood your ground, using quick reflexes and perception to handle her speed. And it went on like that until you heard the doors opening and Clint walking in.

“Interesting, uh… foreplay?” he had no filter and that earned him two glares as the two of you ended your sparring prematurely.

~X~ Three years ago ~X~

For once your were on a high-risk mission in Russia, hence Nat had antidote to depowering serum on her at all times. The instructions were clear, she couldn’t use it without permission from Fury, and she wouldn’t get it unless hostages were rescued and the compromised data was secured. Even after all these years the belief that your powers were too volatile to be safely used on a mission remained, even if you were occasionally given the chance to train with them.

And you believed it too. You’ve grown so used to being depowered that it only felt natural to not consider using your powers until the very last moment. Nat, as often as she was paired with you for missions, had never seen you use your powers before.

You climbed onto a rooftop overlooking the base held by heavily armed military-esque organization. The numerous guns strapped to your body felt heavy, two machine guns, two regular pistols, throwing knives, smoke bombs, several grenades, shotgun and plenty of ammo as well. Despite that there were still too many guards to walk in, even if you had Nat on your side, no, you’d need a distraction first. You watched as Nat took the two snipers out with ease, they never even saw it coming as she knocked them out, sedating them and tying them so they still looked like they were standing guard.

“All clear,” she whispered through the comms.

“Copy that,” you heard the zipline being attached to the wall just beneath you and used it to reach Nat. From here you had a better look at the base. There was no way to tell what they were working on, but the place was heavily guarded. “There’s your target,” you nodded toward the doors on the far left, supposed to lead to the cells, meaning you’d go and make a mess on the far-right side.

“Be careful,” Nat told you and you saw her nearly reaching out to touch you, nearly breaking that professional barrier she always put on during missions. On your free time she was comfortable, touching you, letting you hold her, sometimes even initiating contact, but that was never the case on the missions.

The fact that she reached out, even if she changed her mind, was enough for you. “You too,” you winked at her. “I’ll see you soon,” she smiled at you, that same adorable smile that you loved.

“Remember, dinner when we get back home,” she reminded you as you went to the trapdoors and you gave her a thumbs up.

“Don’t need a reminder,” it’s been on your mind for a long time now, and it was about to become a reality, but you appreciated a bit of extra motivation to stay safe and careful.

You opened the trapdoors and went inside, for once being stealthy, at least until you reached the ither side of the building. You put the night vision goggles on and carefully moved through the halls, silently knocking out anyone on your path. Just like the snipers up above you these guys would also take a very long nap.

You pulled up your collar, sure, you weren’t cold, but your breath was still visible when you exhaled. Nat wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest, she even enjoyed the cold, as cliché as that was. Although, she did mention cold gave her an excuse to stay closer to you since you were always warm. Granted, she was tired, had a nightmare, and was sleepy, so maybe that had something to do with her confession.

You slowly but surely reached the other side of the base and glanced toward the tower where you and Nat were. You couldn’t see her, but you could feel her eyes on you. “I’m ready,” you told her, seeing the guards you were about to take out in a rather loud manner. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit nervous, there were still lots of them, and some of them were heavily armed. But then again, so were you.

“Remember, be careful,” Nat reminded you and the chaos started. You grabbed your machine gun and opened fire, killing several of the thugs and alerting the rest of the intruder in this part of the base. Soon enough the reflector lights were on you and the place was turned into a bullet storm from hell. You dashed for cover, throwing one of the smoke bombs to cover your tracks and vaulting over crates, firing at anyone that moved.

You were constantly on move, not letting them catch up to you or properly aim at you. Someone like Nat or Clint would have been able to shoot you, but there weren’t that many people on their level. You were surrounded by the sound of bullets flying, people shouting in Russian, which you now somewhat understood, but not well enough to pick up words in this chaos.

You could feel heat on the tips of your fingers as you kept firing, shooting people or explosives they were near, and before you knew it the right side of the base was engulfed in chaos, flames, explosions and even more bullets. Several bullets grazed you, leaving small wounds that wouldn’t even need stitching. They were annoying but none of them mattered. If you got seriously wounded you’d simply get the antidote and your mutant powers would burn the wounds closed, you just needed to finish the mission first.

A loud explosion close to you caught your attention and you saw a heavily armed soldier carrying a glaive in his arms approaching you. It wasn’t a regular glaive though, it was absorbing the heat from the flamethrower attached to it and each time the soldier swung it it sent an explosion in the path of the swing.

“Shit!” you narrowly jumped out of the way of the explosions and fired, only for the bullets to bounce off the helmet the soldier was wearing. You weren’t immune to fire when you were depowered, so you absolutely needed to avoid the explosions.

~X~

Natasha cursed under her breath. The hostages have been killed at least three days ago, just before the mission got authorized, but she could still get the data. She plugged her USB stick in and began copying all the data from the computers. You were definitely distracting everyone in the base, she could hear the distant sound of gunfire, but for now it didn’t seem like she had anything to worry about. You knew what you were doing. You’d be fine. You had to be fine. But then the explosions started and Natasha began to worry.

She listened as the explosions got more and more frequent and immediately contacted Fury. “Director, I need permission to give agent L/N the antidote,” she quickly told him as she retrieved all the data from the computers.

“Denied. There’s equipment in that base that we need,” and she was looking at it. Advanced weapons and equipment designed to be used on mutants, similar to what Red Room was trying to create before she destroyed it. And Fury wanted that.

Natasha caught the reflection of her worried face on the now black screen. “But, Sir, there’s a chance the base will be destroyed either way,” Natasha tried to argue, surely you were more important to Fury than this equipment. Right? She clenched her fists so tightly she nearly made her palms bleed. She was being naïve, she, better than most people, should know the answer to that question. Yet, she hoped. Against her better judgment she hoped.

“Do not disobey my direct orders, agent Romanoff. We need everything to remain intact, put trackers on the equipment and flee,” they wouldn’t take fighting over to this side, they wouldn’t risk destroying it.

Natasha slammed her fist onto the table, shaking it with the force of her punch. “Agent Romanoff, you want to wipe your ledger clean. Don’t waste this opportunity,” but the cost was letting you fight your way out of this or die, drenching her ledger with your blood. “I’m sending Barton, Coulson and Hill to rescue L/N,” less than an hour later she’d learn that was a lie, but at that moment it made her decision easier and she put her faith in the organization she worked for, in the man she worked for. It didn’t matter, an hour later it was already too late.

~X~

You cursed your lack of close-range weapons as the soldier caught up to you and tried to cut you, and that on its own wouldn’t have been that big of an issue, but each swing caused explosions, and he was protected by glaive absorbing any explosion coming his way. You weren’t that lucky, and your protective gear was barely holding up, you were injured, blood trickled down your left arm and you were sure you had a concussion.

You ducked under the glaive, desperate, and cut the flamethrower part of it with your knife, detaching it from the glaive and just barely dodging the last explosion it could make, but you lost your footing and couldn’t avoid it as the soldier threw the glaive at you. The blade, still hot from explosions, pierced through your side like it was cutting though butter and you fell. Disoriented by the immense pain and looking at the handle of the weapon.

This wasn’t happening.

But before you could comprehend what just happened to you there was another explosion, caused by all the damage you and the soldier did, caused by all the damaged equipment, spilled fuel and the destruction. The explosion rocked the building and you crashed through several floors, falling into the underground levels, with the glaive still piercing through your right side. Ironically, the glaive saved you, as it absorbed the explosion that reached you. You landed harshly on your side, making your wound even worse. The pain blinded you temporarily as you grabbed onto the handle, grasping onto anything within reach as blood spilled from your body and pooled underneath you.

“Y/N, what happened?” you heard Nat’s voice, filled with panic and you could imagine the look on her face.

You couldn’t answer her, the pain was too much as you finally regained your sight and just stared at the glaive in disbelief. If you pulled it out you’d definitely bleed out, but from the looks of it you’d die either way.

“Y/N!” her shout snapped you out of your thoughts and you remembered Nat had the syringe with the antidote to depowering serum. If she could reach you, and she probably could do it easily since most of the soldiers were killed either by you or the explosion, you’d be able to burn the wound closed.

“Nat, I need- I’ll bleed out-“

Nat remained silent for what felt like eternity, but when she spoke you wished she didn’t say a single word. “I don’t have the permission to use it,” she said it as if what you had meant nothing to her, as if she was fine with letting you die here, bleeding out in these ruins impaled on a glaive. At least she sounded like she was sorry, like saying those words and leaving you to die broke her heart.

There was no use in arguing, and you had no energy left to argue even if there was a way to convince Nat to come back for you. You tried to get up, to fight for your life, but you just slumped back onto the floor, unable to do anything but close your eyes and wait to die.

The next time you opened your eyes you were in shackles, captured by the Red Room.

~X~

She could see a lot of herself in you. Not in your helplessness, or inability to escape from the Red Room, no, those hardly mattered to Yelena. It was your firm belief that Natalia, or Natasha as you called her, would come for you.

Madame B was cruel indeed, making Yelena tend to your wounds just enough to keep you alive, making both of you see the proof of Natalia’s callousness, of her tendency to leave people behind. You, bloodied, injured, damn near on the brink of death, were faced with someone who once hoped Natalia would come back and save her. And her, she was faced with someone carrying that same hope, heading toward that same disappointing realization that Natalia wasn’t coming.

“Natalia isn’t coming,” she didn’t even need to fake it, she truly believed that. “She didn’t come for me either,” the anger and hurt in her voice was real.

You grunted when she tightened the bandage around your waist a bit harsher than necessary. “Try all you want, I’m not letting you or anyone else turn me against Nat,” you weren’t that easy to break, she’d give you that. You were so disgustingly loyal to Natalia, as if she deserved that kind of love. You looked into her eyes, still so determined and defiant. She never got to be like that; any defiance was quickly beaten out of her. “I’ll make all of your higher ups pay for what they did to her,” you promised, sure that would happen, defiant to the bitter end.

She imagined a similar defiance was what separated Natalia from other Widows, made her THE Black Widow, the only one worth the super soldier serum, because none other could take it.

“You chose the wrong person to put your faith in,” so maybe she could chip at that instead, at your choice instead of the person. “We’re in no rush, you only just got here,” three days were nothing, you’d understand sooner rather than later that no one was coming for you. Especially not your precious Natalia.

~X~

You bit your tongue so you wouldn’t scream, but the electric current coursing through your body made it nearly impossible. The cruel irony wasn’t lost on you. If you weren’t depowered this would have had no effect on you, but here you were, tortured by one of your own powers.

The woman on the other side of the glass wall turned the machine off and you gasped for air. It didn’t matter the air was stale, breathing it in without electricity shocking you felt like you were breathing in the fresh air. The sound of dripping made you look to the side where a small puddle of blood was forming. Your thrashing reopened the wound, but the pain was dulled by the shocks, still, it made you feel light-headed.

“You should feel lucky, mutant, you can choose to make this all stop,” Madame B wasn’t even taunting you, she genuinely believed giving you that choice was an act of kindness. As if the choice between joining the Red Room and being tortured was a choice anyone would enjoy having.

“Do your worst,” you glared, you couldn’t do anything else.

“The traitor isn’t coming,” her words echoed as she turned the electricity back on and ten days into this torture and two weeks since you were captured those words sounded a lot more true than you dared to admit. “You were left to die by the traitor. The Red Room has given you a new life.”

You forced yourself to smirk at her as your eyes, wild and unbreakable focused solely on her. “I don’t want it,” you put tremendous effort into it and gave her a middle finger as she dialed up the electricity and finally made you scream, but you found some satisfaction in seeing the frustration on her face.

~X~

Another week later they have given up on torturing you, instead they just threw you into a cell, shackled to the wall and bit by bit emptying the cell with every bare minimum meal they brought you. And the worst thing about it?

The solitude was working. With nothing to occupy your mind, with no pain to focus on, you were left with your own thoughts and the realization that you were betrayed and abandoned, and that no one, not Fury, not Coulson, not Hill or Clint, and especially not Natasha, was coming to save you.

There was no denying it anymore. You were on your own. You’ve given them seven years of your life, and you were thrown away like it all meant nothing.

Maybe it truly meant nothing.

~X~

Each second felt like a week, drawn out, passing by so slowly you wondered if you’d go insane. That annoying dripping sound from the cell next to your own persisted, staying by your side through it all. Rhythmic dripping felt like its very own form of torture, just reminding you of how alone you were, constantly reminding you of the deafening silence that surrounded it. The darkness around you seemed almost endless, and the dim light of the candle did nothing to chase it away, it only forced you to focus on the blood-stained glaive just out of your reach. A dripping sound to break the torturous silence and a flickering flame taunting you in the dark; well, at least the Red Room made some creative choices regarding your time in their cell.

This would never end unless you let go, that much you understood by now. The Red Room wouldn’t stop torturing you until you broke, and you wouldn’t let yourself break. With no one coming to save you all you could do was burn this whole place down, letting your powers consume you in the process.

For years you tried to be different, to not use your powers for the sake of destruction like Magneto did when he destroyed your home. Yet here you were, knowing that was your only way out.

A sound of footsteps made you look to the side, the only doors leading to this room were right in front of you, so this wasn’t someone from the Red Room. No, you knew exactly who, or rather what, this was. “Is this it? The death you promised me?” your voice was hoarse, it almost hurt to speak. How long has it been since you had any water? Two days? Longer? You had no idea how much time passed since the last mouthful of water you were allowed to drink.

The darkness seemed to swirl in one spot of your prison, as if it was consumed by the one approaching. And then you saw it, this creature made of hundreds of small black birds, barely stuck together. With every step it took the wings of the birds closest to the surface flapped helplessly. The creature remained silent, only looking at you with empty, white eyes. “Silent treatment?” you coughed, wondering if this really was it. Would you just lose consciousness and die here? “Impaled, killed by my own powers. That was your promise,” you reminded it, but, like an oversized amalgamation of birds taking a human-like shape, it just tilted its head. It didn’t speak, didn’t open its’ mouth. Maybe this really was it. Sure, you weren’t impaled any longer, but the wound still troubled you, even if the Red Room made sure you wouldn’t bleed out, they never allowed it to properly heal. “What do you even want from me?”

The doors opened and you were temporarily blinded by the light piercing through the darkness. “Talking to yourself?” Yelena asked you as the creature stepped between the two of you. She didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge it, proving to you that no one else could see it. Somehow, every time you were close to death you saw it, and it only spoke to you the very first time.

“I am a good listener,” you joked, staring at the eyes of the creature. No matter how many times you saw it, you had no idea if it was an enemy or not. Or if it was simply neutral.

Yelena walked through the creature and you watched as it vanished into the darkness. Yelena snapped her fingers and brought your attention back to her. Luckily, she didn’t come empty-handed, she had a bottle of water in her left hand. “Here,” she offered the opened bottle to you and you never enjoyed the feeling of cool, fresh water, going down your throat. “Slowly,” Yelena chastised you and spilled some water on your face, which was greatly appreciated.

“Thanks,” you gave her a slight smile, but she wasn’t amused. “Won’t you get in trouble though?”

Yelena stared at you blankly, a lot like Natasha would when you were being ridiculous. They may not be related by blood, but the similarities were somehow there. “I shut down all surveillance in the room. Dreykov and Madame B are going to brainwash me tomorrow,” your eyes widened at that. After Natasha they probably didn’t want to take any chances. The thoughts of brainwashed Yelena fighting Natasha made your blood run cold. “If I said I want a fresh start, what can you do about it?” Yelena asked and you took a deep breath. You found a semblance of tentative companionship with the girl sharing the same fate as you and carrying the pain of being abandoned by Natasha. And you didn’t want her to lose herself to this damned place.

This was it. “Give it to you, as long as you can find an excuse to get out of the building. I’ll give you an hour before this whole place is turned to ashes,” you promised her, figuring that, if this was where you’d die, you’d at least take the Red Room down with you.

A/N: So... I'm curious, how would you feel if Yelena joined the team, more or less right now?

Taglist: @toxicitytiger @wandaromamoff69 @womenarehotsstuff @psychickryptonitebouquet @seventeen-x @maddsdotorg @arualdcg @ilovemybabygirlmoon @redroomgraduate @canyonyodeler @skz-xii @jokermoonie

Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part / Next Part

[pinkmirth]

Wait imagine being enemies to lovers with alucard

now, i love the sound of this! ( i think about it more than i should, tbh . . .) a mostly harmless , banter-like dynamic is what comes to mind, similar to what he’s got going on with trevor. you’re a sharp woman with an even sharper mouth, and as much as he admires your tenacity, alucard isn’t one to hold back from delivering his own petty retorts. you throw jabs at the vampiric man, and more often than not, he’ll bite.

at times, real disagreements ensue— over the proper way to effectively kill night creatures, how to reduce any casualties, how you think he’s passive, and how he sees you to be so incredibly brash. you’re defensive about doing things your way, as is he. you know how two people are just going at each other’s throats until they’ve found themselves face to face, chests heaving from the heat of their argument? yeah, that’s exactly where you find yourself now; alucard standing only inches before you, blonde brows drawn together with his cheeks dusted red from what you assume to be boiling rage.

once you finally acknowledge how slim the proximity between you is, you step away and coil your expression into one of distaste, attempting to mask the thrill of having him so close that his nose almost brushed yours. “you’re disgustingly pretentious,” you try snapping at him, though he can hear that bitter, mocking tone of your diminish. is it just him, or is he catching onto a bit of . . . softness? from someone like you, towards someone like him? it couldn't be. you can hardly stand him, anyway. he's sure that the only one harboring any affections, even in the slightest, is him. as much as you boil his blood and make his head spin, you're also able to make him laugh, motivate him to new heights. not that he'd ever admit it, though. you'd probably punch him square in the face.

“and you're far too stubborn. it wouldn't kill you to adapt, you know." he grunts, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. would it be wrong of you to admit just how beautiful he is? "it might. i surely won't be taking my chances," you bump past him using your shoulder, and he scoffs upon impact. just as you attempt to zoom past the man, his lithe hand encircles your wrist and pulls you back into him.

against the wall is where you find yourself, with his tall, firm body keeping you pressed there. alucard's grasp is unrelenting, and he's far too strong for you to even try pulling away. his long, golden hair drapes over you, curtaining over you so that the only thing you can see is his cold, glowing eyes. "must you make everything so . . . fucking difficult?" you pray he can't hear it; the erratic thumping of your heart.

“unhand me, you fuck.” he does not. you've pushed him to the edge for the very last time. "why on earth do i put up with you?" he sourly chuckles, as though he's asking himself rather than you. he watches your shaken gaze scour his entire face— from his piercing eyes to his pale-pink lips. you're staring, hard. he much rather prefers gaining this kind of attention from you.

“then don't. i never asked you to." you spit, trying to yank away with no avail. he only shakes his head, closing in on you. at this rate, his lips and your own could practically touch.

“i can’t just leave you alone,” he rasps. you listen with a deep pause, and your breath is caught in your throat. “haven’t you noticed? as irksome as your company is, i can’t seem to go without it.” you finally understand— alucard, of all people, has taken a liking to you.

“so, you’re attached?” your laughter is taunting, and somehow, he’s come to love it. “unhealthily so.” he breathes out. his bottom lip grazes yours, and you shudder at even the slightest contact. god, how he’s already ruined you. “and what exactly will you do about that, alucard?” you call his name with a feigned amount of spite, and your lashes flutter up at him in that provoking way . . . fuck, he can feel himself getting harder beneath his trousers. alucard gives you this particular look, and that’s how you know he won’t be telling you— the man’s about to take initiative and show you, just as you’re always telling him to.

a deep, breathless kiss is what you get in response, one where his mouth are pressed to yours in a way where you can bite at his lower lip and he can groan into your mouth. he knew you’d like it this way— messy, heated, desperate. you suck at his tongue and cup his face, breaking away only after you’ve gotten a proper taste of him. you feel something firm nudge your thighs, and it gets you to peer down and take notice of his apparent bulge, straining at his fitted black pants.

“god, you’re pathetic,” your lips curve into a smile, teasingly taking his bottom lip between your teeth. you bring your knee up to press against his crotch, and his moan comes out sounding so broken. only the stars above could explain why your insults rouse him as much as they do. alucard pecks your lips once, then twice, with a quickness he knows will leave you chasing for more.

“for you, perhaps i am.”

[lilacxquartz]

BEYOND HELLFIRE

true form sukuna x f!reader

plot: back when you were still alive, sukuna had once surrendered a lifetime of peace for you. when he had you incarnated for his return, however, it all went wrong — a/n: canon divergent culling games up ahead, this isn’t canon-compliant to make the story work, but still, major manga spoilers up ahead anyway!

summary: the incarnation was successful, but your memories didn’t retain. now, sukuna had to fight you, or did he?

chapter 2 of 4 < previous chapter • next chapter > • masterlist • on o3

Chapter 2. Present Day

Centuries later, when he was incarnated and then finally broken away from his initial vessel, Sukuna basked out in the open, retaining the glory of his fully awakened form. The world was truly at his disposal and he was eager to break it all apart and watch it burn.

The fights he found himself thrown into were either everlasting or not at all, but one thing remained clear—the casualties were devastating—if not cataclysmic. All of that came to a halt though, from the moment he finally saw you.

It was about time, he figured, as he was already growing bored from the drawl of the same fight without pause. The battlefield was littered with the bloodied remains of the opposing sorcerers who were foolish enough to brave an audience with him; the king of curses. No matter how much of a fight they all put up, they all bled out the same way regardless. Rinse, repeat. Ending their misery as if on clockwork.

At first, though, your appearance barely registered to him. You had to get a lot closer than it was safe for you to do so for him to lock onto the once familiar, stubborn glint present in your eyes. Your body was different, so Kenjaku must have brought you back as an incarnated soul. As soon as he recognised you, however, it was almost comedically clear. That all too familiar way you tilted your head off to the side in annoyance, your slightly crooked posture when you stood, the grimace in your face as you assessed the situation. It was all so… undeniably you.

Fuck. He could have sworn that he cycled through all of the fools that were otherwise thrown at him thus far—you were just next in line, huh? You stood there before him before breaking forward with a calm, measured stride in a vessel that didn’t even suit you. Sukuna found himself scoffing at the sight, his lips twitching to reveal an amused smile, feeling something odd form in the pit of his stomach. What was it? Hunger? Fondness? Or, maybe even, nostalgia? It was a familiar feeling that left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

Sukuna stared at you intently, with his crimson stare boring into your form in an attempt to commit every detail to memory, unwilling to part with you again so soon. Eighty years back then. It lasted no more than a blink of an eye. Slipping through his fingers like honey. So sweet.

And yet, you didn’t look at him in that same way. Your eyes were stone cold in comparison, lacking that same recognition, replaced with clear indifference, and perhaps even something spiteful. He supposed that he did likely kill off a fair share of your allies, hell, you probably hated him. Sukuna’s smile widened at that fact. Hatred. What a strong emotion. He would have been lucky if he received anything beyond slight irritation back in the day. What an odd thing for him to focus on though, he thought, but then again, you were the only non-sorcerer that he ever found worth respecting, someone that he never had to tarnish with his touch.

For you to be thrown into the death pit as a soon-to-be-forgotten sorcerer was almost too insulting. It didn’t suit you.

Momentarily reminded of you now being a sorcerer in your incarnated form, Sukuna focused on your technique, next. Your ability seemed to stem from bandages infused with cursed energy, which he deemed to be quite fitting, given that your life-long craft was dedicated to reconstruction. He paid attention to how you bound them around minor wounds before whipping them harshly against the air, smoothing them into razor-sharp blades.

He remained standing in place as you advanced on his position, your stance wary but determined. Your bravery was nothing to applaud, not if your life could be so easily taken away, so he tutted a little as you prepared to take him on. Another foolish sorcerer, doomed to end their life within a matter of minutes—maybe even seconds—but no, he had something else planned. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t toy with you though.

He wanted to tease you.

To toy with you.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Sukuna finally broke through the silence, shattering what little remained of your strained composure. “Or who you’re up against?”

You didn’t dare to reply, figuring that it would be wiser not to engage. You were admittedly very afraid. Your existence was sudden, and imposing, and now you had to fight with a whole flurry of broken memories making up your existence in a world that no longer made sense.

Sukuna all the while, found your doe-eyed look to be endearing, wondering what exactly must have been going through your mind as he towered in front of you. He looked down at you with an expression that didn’t betray any of his thoughts, leaving you to reel at the prospect of being struck down at any moment.

He was never one to take fights too seriously, though, that was the thing. At least not to opponents who never stood a chance. When a worthy opponent surfaced, he had the time of his life, but even with you, something felt different. Sukuna didn’t want to fight you, but he wanted to provoke you. So he’d lazily punch his hand forward to test the waters—letting you dance around him as he watched—his eyes lighting up as he watched the bandages snap in the air, never once letting you break his skin.

However, just like with everything else, he quickly grew bored.

You needed to step up—or he would.

“Is that it?” he taunted, “surely you’ve got more fight in you?”

Without hesitating the next time, you lashed out towards him as he intercepted you with an open stance, allowing himself to get caught with one ribbon of the gauze to snag onto his forearm, slicing open his skin. It stung in the same way a papercut would, the sensation barely noticeable, if at all.

Sukuna barked out a laugh. “Cute.”

Your eyes narrowed in response before you broke forward in attempted retaliation with your ribbons spiraling through the air as they snaked towards him. You were quick and given the unforgiving circumstances of the culling games, you likely had plenty of experience to boot, but it still wasn’t enough to face someone like him.

Sukuna easily managed to sidestep all of your incoming attacks, predicting anything you had in mind. You were very new to this, after all, no matter how much practice you got in, you were never meant for this kind of thing. He didn’t think this to insult you, of course, that was just the way of the world. Some were born with cursed energy and others weren’t. It was just a fact of life.

Though, you caught on to him avoiding all of your attacks, perhaps finally noticing that you were still alive. “You’re not going to fight back?”

Sukuna laughed a bit more heartily that time, tilting his head back as he crossed his arms. “Fight you? Do you truly wish for me to break you so badly?” he paused, the mouth on his abdomen cracking a wide smile to match the one above. “If you insist.”

He then without a single hint nor warning—tore forward, his speed faster than what you could keep up with—with a charged fist that hurtled towards your standing form. He withheld using cursed techniques for now, knowing that he had to reserve such energy for more dire threats that lurked just over the horizon. Such an impact sent you flying, flinging you far away, hitting the ground just up ahead, hard, with the pavement splitting upon the impact. For a moment, all you could was simply lie there, with the air completely gone from your lungs, choking on the sudden surging pain.

Sukuna otherwise tilted his head in mild disappointment, not expecting you to be subdued so soon.

He then stepped forward, his imposing build looming over you, as his eyes once ablaze with fiery rage, settled into something tranquil instead. His gaze crossed your face, taking note of how you were at the cusp of losing consciousness, confirming your pulse was still present before taking a step back.

“Makes sense,” he snorted to himself, deciding to move further into the battlefield away from where you lay, deciding to continue this when he had settled another matter, “you were never cut out for fighting.”

He could fix you up later with his reverse cursed technique if need be, but the rise and fall of your chest told him all that he had to know. You were alive. You would be fine.

Sukuna then took a step back, thinking back to the remainder of the enemies that remained. Suddenly, carrying out Kenjaku’s will seemed all the more motivating. He had you back. If he brought forward a target that made him seem like nothing more than a fly-head curse, then he could likely make a subtle exit to bide some time if need be. It didn’t quite matter to him that you didn’t remember him just yet—he would make you if he had to.

Sukuna after all, was sentimental, that much was clear when he considered Uraume and it was clear when he considered any such matters with you, too.

Tucking you away somewhere hidden for later retrieval, he adjusted his plans. Given the slight shift in energy, he determined that Kenjaku was likely down. That’s why the remaining brats in the city ruins likely looked as hopeful as they did. Poor them. They didn’t account for this whole plan being accounted for centuries, planned sooner before they could even comprehend. Sukuna knew the signal perfectly well if his ally was down, the issue beforehand being, that he was simply too selfish to finalise the plan. What irony it was that he was moving forward with the merger for equally selfish reasons in the end.

Sukuna next considered the possibility of Yuta. A familiar cursed energy could be detected from the sorcerer, so he determined that it was very likely that Rika had consumed Kenjaku and stolen his power. The will to carry out the plan, however, was tied to a binding vow, so in theory, if he called for Rika during a fight, then it was still possible to activate the condition needed to succeed.

The main issue was everyone else who stood in the way.

(But he had to try.)

This fight wasn’t about elimination for fun anymore, it was about seeing something through to the end—like you—before you dared to slip away without saying goodbye again.

Making his intentions abundantly clear, Sukuna beelined towards Yuta right away, the young sorcerer’s eyes flashed with realisation, with his grip tightening around the hilt of his weapon, hoping to slash away his advancing presence.

Sukuna however, had him figured out from the start. He moved behind him within a beat, aiming straight for the back of his neck, in an attempt to draw Rika out, and just as predicted, he found himself being pushed back by the emerging vengeful spirit. Her form churned into the open, materialising into overhead space above where the younger sorcerer stood, all the while Yuta quickly caught onto what Sukuna might have been trying to do.

In an attempted halt, Yuta cried out, “Rika, wait—”

However, it was too late. Rika wouldn’t stop if it meant that Yuta would potentially risk getting killed in the process. Sukuna smiled as he was met face to face with her, facing his palm upwards to meet her form with an extended punch laced with cursed energy burning from the cusp of his fists. Before anyone else, be it a bystander or any sort of backup could respond, Sukuna’s cursed energy shifted into something else—something suffocating—impossibly dense, as if the law of space and time was bending under the weight of his will.

With surging energy, he launched accumulated cursed energy to drive forward, drowning out Rika’s presence, and silencing all attempted attacks that she would otherwise attempt to dish out in retaliation. All Sukuna had to do was connect with a certain type of energy, activating exactly what Yuta had Rika consume to prevent the cataclysm of.

“Rika, please, fight it,” Yuta urged, only for her to slowly dissolve, letting the conditions activate and take its place, her body expanding rapidly as if threatening to explore.

Sukuna faded into the smoke as the merger seemed to successfully activate, not paying too much mind as something otherworldly branched out of the detonated mass, nor the rumble of the streets, with gravel rising, trembling in the air at the possibility of something irreversible rising from the aftermath.

None of it mattered anymore.

Not when he had you to watch the world end with him.

this is part 4 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

a/n part 2: set up the scene a bit to make him extra yan coded by the next chapter 🫶

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.9 K Warnings: none Prompt: The world goes on, and so do the classes, more throuple shenanigans, Not proofread

Chapter 69: Livin’ Thing

“What do you mean they know?” James asked in a whisper. “Why the hell do they know?” 

“Severus,” you said. “I think he saw Rem and Sirius while we were–” You stopped yourself, not sure how to break down those details. “Together.” 

“What do we do?” he asked, not quite understanding why you looked more exasperated than desperate.

“They won’t tell anybody,” you reassured him. He seemed hesitant. “I’m certain.” 

“How?” 

“They stopped Severus from opening his big fat mouth. They wouldn’t have done it if they wanted to share the secret with the world.” 

“What if they want to be the ones that bring you down?” 

“I’m sure they’d love to, but never like that. After Christmas,” you bit your bottom lip as you thought of a way to explain it without outing them. “And it’s not that I excuse their earlier behaviour,” and you really didn’t. You’d never forget the downright abuse they’d made you go through, “but I guess I understand them a little bit better. I’m sure they won’t tell anybody.” 

“Not even if we prank them and they get pissed?” 

“Not even then,” you said calmly. “They thought Remus and Sirius were cheating on me, that’s why they told me about it, though it seemed they didn’t really want to tell me much either.” 

“Who would have thought those Slytherins had an ounce of integrity somewhere in their reptilian body.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as James looked at you with a small smile. “When Barty appeared and shook me, I thought I was hallucinating,” you said. “I never thought, out of all people, they’d be the ones to help me escape.” 

James gave you a long, analysing look. Sirius’ retelling had been enough for him to know what’d happened, but you had never talked about it, let alone in such a calm manner. He was glad to see you were getting better. 

“Unexpected allies and unexpected enemies,” James said. “Isn’t that a casualty of war?” 

“Since when are you poetic like that?” you teased as you turned to him with a smile. 

He cleared his throat. “I’ve um… been reading Shakespeare.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Lily said I might enjoy some of his other stuff,” James said with a shrug. “I thought Midsummer Night’s Dream and Much Ado About Nothing were funny.” 

“Who would have thought you’d be reading more muggle books?” you said with a smile. “Next you should read The Hobbit.” 

“Again with that! ” He said as he turned to you. 

“You can’t not have read about elves and hobbits. It’s literally a crime never to have entered the wonderful world of Tolkien!” 

“I don’t know about Hobbitses and–” Your laugh cut him off. “–What?” 

“Nothing, it’s just– It’s Hobbits, not Hobbitses. The only character who ever calls them that is Gollum.” 

“And what’s wrong with Gollum?” 

“Oh well… You’d have to read the books to know,” you added with a sneaky smile. 

“Cunning little vixen, aren’t you?” 

“Well, I got my nickname somehow, didn’t I?” You said with a teasing smile, raising an eyebrow at James. “Besides, Lily really likes those books. You’d probably surprise her.” 

“Should have started there!” He retorted.

Saturday, 15th, 1997

Since you were all still pretty tired from the prank, and since neither you, not Sirius or James, had recovered even in the slightest, you had all –all being just you and Sirius– made the executive decision of not flying that Saturday. How exactly had you managed? You’d placed a sound muting spell on James’ bed, and you’d set an enchanted cloth by their window so it looked like night instead of day when he woke up. 

That night, you’d also decided to stay in your own bed, since two nights in a row with the boys, so far from the moon, and with nobody wanting to turn into their animagus form, were already suspicious. Not to mention that Remus had prefect duty that night, and neither you nor Sirius would have seen much of him. So Friday night, after telling the boys what’d happened with the Slytherins, you’d bid your goodbyes to each other in the common room, and you’d all gone back to your respective rooms. 

Lily was more than happy to have you back, and the two of you laid next to each other on your bed, catching up with all the stuff she did on her vacation and, of course, all about that train ride that she’d hadn’t had time to tell you about. You chatted about her life, new music, and the movies she’d gone to see at the cinema, both the ones she recommended and the ones she thought had been shit, and you fell asleep by each other much later than you had expected to that day. 

“Hey!” you heard someone call, followed by your name and a shake of your shoulder. “Aren’t you coming to Apparition?” 

You blinked, seeing the blurry, dirty blonde wolf cut that you would have recognised anywhere in the world, “Mars?” 

“Mhm,” she said. “Time to wake, princess, we have class. You know Dumbledore does not like anyone being late.” 

You grumbled something as you covered yourself with the pillow, only to realise you weren’t alone on your bed. “Evans’s still here?” you said as you turned your face to see Lily’s ginger locks tangled next to your hair. 

“Mhm,” confirmed Marlene as she sat on the bed. “Drink this,” she added. 

You grabbed the bottle she handed and took a zip, making a face the minute the bitter taste hit your mouth. “What on earth did you just feed me?” 

Marlene smiled, “It’s my morning potion, been working on it for a while now.” 

“Tastes like shit,” you said as you licked your lips. 

“I know, it’s the part I’ve been working on. But it’s basically an energy booster. I’ve added Mandrake leaves and Gurdy Root extract, some Billywig Sting too, and I tried to get rid of the taste with honey water and lavender, but it does not seem to work.” 

“Sweetroot,” Lily said as she slowly blinked, yawning as she looked at Marlene. “Use Sweetroot after the potion is done, and then add the Lavander, It’ll kill the other tastes and keep only the one you add afterwards.” 

“Can you do that to Polyjuice?” you asked, turning to her almost instantly. 

Lily frowned, about to ask why you’d need polyjuice before deciding it would be much better if she didn’t know your reasons. “No,” she said with a shake of her head and then yawned. “The” –she yawned again– “the Sweetroot kills the fluxweed and mushes the lacewing flies. There is no way to make Polyjuice taste better, unfortunately.” 

“Truly unfortunately,” you thought, thinking back to the last time you’d taken it and how dreadful it had been. Not that being able to turn into other people wasn’t worth the itch to puke. 

“You want some too?” Marlene asked Lily as she sat on the bed. You threw her a look, shaking your head ever so slightly.

“I’m good, thanks,” Lily said as Marlene took another sip from her potion and winced. 

“I take this one every time we have charms,” she retorted. “There’s just something about Flitwicks voice that puts me right back to sleep, I swear.” 

“I know what you mean,” you said. Professor Flitwick really did have a very calming voice, but you were always filled with adrenaline from flying that it had never made you fall asleep, even after you’d seen other students nodding off, especially during the classes where he got carried on talking about the history of spells. The practical classes, on the other hand, were always fun; sometimes they were calm –when the spells were simple–but other times, especially on combination spells, there was always someone who didn’t quite get it right. A flick of their wand in the wrong way, and they’d cause an explosion, or a quill stab to the table, or even –one time– for one of the metal balls to roll over someone’s feet while playing a Summoner’s Court Match. Poor Michael Stadletter, he tended to have real bad luck in charms. 

“What’s the time?” you asked, turning to the clock. 

“Barely enough for breakfast and running to class,” Mary said as she unwrapped her hair. She had already changed into her uniform. Her curls bounced down from her red, silk, scarf, and she added just a bit of potion to the ends to spring the small, unruly curls, back to life. Her hair looked amazing by the time she was done. 

“Good, I’m starving,” you said as you stood, and turned to look at the small corner of pillows by the window, Nieve was awake, one of her wings open as she dug her head inside as if she was looking for something, or perhaps cleaning herself.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to eat before Apparition? We were thinking of skipping,” said Marlene, now taking a pear and giving it a bite. “‘xcept for this.” 

You had skipped dinner last night in favour of getting boswelia and chamomile from the herbology classroom, chopping some of it while you all talked together by the fireplace and dividing the chopped and magically dried leaves on two different glass jars. Owls normally hunt by themselves, and the treats they got from wizards were nothing but an extra, but since Nieve couldn’t fly, you’d had to get actual food for her. And so, you’d gone to Nimbletwist and convinced her to give you some raw meat. 

Nieve seemed to much prefer the full steak to the minced meat, so you had to marinate them with the leaves for her to eat them. Although last night you’d heard some shuffling, which made you suspect she was hunting down some kind of smaller insect.

“I’m pretty hungry, though,” you said as you leaned down next to Nieve and opened a small box, levitating an already marinated piece of raw stake and placing it next to her. She didn’t pay much attention until you placed a spell on it that made it start dancing around like a small mouse. Nieve grabbed it with her claws, pinning it down to the floor before leaning down and gobbling it up. When she was done, she turned to you with a satisfied air. “Hope you’re feeling better, girl,” you said as you tilted your head and gave her a small, tight-lipped smile.

She cooed in return, tilting her head to the side and chirping as she looked behind you. You looked back to see Lily sitting on the bed. You narrowed your eyes at her, and she smiled guiltily. “I think she might want some of the treats I’ve been giving her,” she said as she stood up and walked towards her trunk, taking out a small pack of owl treats. “I got this one for all the owls that brought me stuff on Christmas, but there was some leftover, and I thought Nieve might like them.” 

 By then, she had leaned next to you, pulling out a rather large cookie-like treat that she later broke into smaller pieces and offered to Nieve. The small owl leaned next to her hand and carefully took one of the pieces before swallowing it whole and chirping excitedly. Lily left the rest of the treats on the pillow before she stood up. You looked at Nieve one more time and took a deep breath. 

You weren’t sure what to do with her, at least not after she was healed. You had Reese, and you had already inherited one too many things from Nina. But you didn’t want Nieve to be left alone either; you wanted to find her a home and a person who would take care of her and love her as much as Nina did. A memory came to you briskly,  how, on her birthday last year, Nina had told you about her new pet. Her parents had sent Nieve with a big blue and silver bow, and she had flown straight into her table, clashing clumsily against one of the plates since she was so small. She held a note on her beak and chirped happily once she saw Nina for the first time. 

You sighed and stood up, leaving Nieve to chirp as she ate some of the other treats. Lily had already gone into the bathroom, and you opted to change into your uniform in the room instead of waiting. When she was out, all that was left for you was a quick wash of your teeth and face and getting your hair untangled.

When you were ready, Lily and Mary were gone, but Marlene had stayed to walk with you towards the Great Hall. “Why’d they leave?” you asked as you looked around the room.

“Mary wanted some anti-dizziness potion, and Lily said she’d come with her to Pomfrey.” 

“Oh, that’s actually pretty clever,” you said, thinking back to how they had both ended up feeling rather dreadful after the first class. You’d had a few others afterwards, and while you had managed your PTSD (if you could call it that), Lily and Marlene almost always ended up, at least, with a mild headache. 

“Let’s go,” Marlene said as she tilted her head towards the door, and you nodded in return, following behind her. 

“I just don’t understand what happened,” James said loudly as he shook his head, he was talking to the boys on the sofa. “My alarm has never failed me!” 

“Beats me,” said Sirius as he shook his head. 

“And not even the light woke me up,” James complained. 

“Probably cloudy in the morning,” said Remus, who was well aware and had helped you and Sirius with your plan of skipping flying that morning. 

“Maybe you were just really tired,” said Peter as he yawned. “Godric knows I am.”

“And Vixen!” he said as soon as he spotted you on the stairs. “Why didn’t you wake us up?”

“She fell asleep,” Marlene retorted. “Had to wake her a few minutes ago.” 

“Wait, you did?” James asked with a frown. 

“Must be our lack of sleep.” You shrugged. “I just couldn’t wake up. Besides, I stayed chatting with Lily a good deal of the night and– oh.” You’d been yanked by the arm and pulled towards the sofa in the middle of your sentence, having you fall half on top of Sirius and half on top of Remus, who’d been sitting by the other. Sirius was quick to press a kiss to your cheek and lean his head on your shoulder with a contented sigh, and Remus, who’d been tempted to follow his example, had to hold back, giving you a light pat on the thigh. 

“Morning, Luv,” he said with a small, almost imperceptible smile. 

You had no idea when you’d tell your friends, but you wanted it to be sooner than later. Even if secret relationships were exciting, the fact that you couldn’t give affection to Remus the same way you gave it to Sirius –when in public– worried you since you knew how hard it had been for him. You turned your head to the side to give him a good, long look and smiled. “Morning, Moons.” 

Marlene tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the two of you; there was a certain complicity there that she hadn’t seen before. Or perhaps she had seen it, but it had never been as openly shown before. Could it be because of the prank? She wondered. She also noticed James smiling as he looked at the three of you as if he was in on whatever secret your glances meant. 

“Let’s get breakfast,” Peter said as he stood up.

“Right, you said you were starving,” she said as she looked at you. 

“I am,” you said with a smile and stood, offering both of your hands to help your boys up. Sirius smirked as he took your hand. Remus was much calmer as he took a hold of it, both standing at about the same time. 

“I see you’ve got your preferences,” said James as he gave you a feigned look of disdain. 

“You were much further away,” you retorted with a shrug. 

James scoffed, diverted as he stood. “Whatever you say, Vix. As long as it lets you sleep at night.” 

“Oh, she sleeps mighty well at night,” Marlene said with a smile. “With Lily’s cuddles and all.” 

“With whose cuddles?” asked James as he turned to you with a shocked expression. 

“Lily slept by her side last night,” Marlene said nonchalantly, she loved to tease James. “Not the first time either, didn’t you know?” 

“She did?” James asked you in shock. 

“We stayed up late talking,” you said with a shrug. 

“You should be careful, Sirius,” she added, trying to get a rise out of him too. “You know she likes redheads.” 

You rolled your eyes, at some point, somehow, it’d gotten to Marlene’s ears that you liked redheads, and she hadn’t stopped teasing you –and Lily– since. She must have said you looked like “the cutest little lesbian couple” over a hundred times. 

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t mind sharing all that much,” he said as he threw a complicit smile at Remus, who tried not to react to Sirius’ silly way of incognito flirting. Marlene raised an eyebrow at his reaction while James threw an amused look his way. 

“Can we hurry this up?” Asked Peter with a small frown. “I’m starving!” 

“Me too!” you said as you stepped forward, catching up with Peter as you walked towards the exit of the common room. “We can continue with the teasing while we eat, I don’t want to be late.” 

It didn’t take too long for you to get to the Great Hall. Remus was exceptionally good at finding the right stairs, and in less than 10 minutes, you were already crossing the door. Most students stayed in their rooms on Saturday mornings. So the room was almost empty except for the few 7th years who were taking extra classes while they prepared for their N.E.W.T.s. 

Marlene sat beside you and prepared some sandwiches for the girls and herself to eat after class was over while you had some simple eggs and toast. Although you were used to the stomach-churning feeling of apparitions and the slight coppery taste it often left in the mouth, you did not want to go overboard with your breakfast and end up puking all of it onto the garden.

“You should add more cheese,” Peter said as he handed Marlene a cutting board filled with all kinds of it. 

“Thanks, Pete,” she said as she took the board and placed it in front of her, picking out each’s favourite cheese and adding it to the sandwiches.

“Welcome,” he replied before taking a huge bite of his own breakfast muffin. He always took careful care and consideration while preparing it, first cheese, then the eggs, then the sausage. Sometimes –if it was available– he added roast beef, and he often topped it with a few slices of bacon and his favourite dressing, brown sauce. 

As soon as you were done with your food, you moved your plate to the side and grabbed some of the fresh veggies to add to the sandwiches. Tomato, bell peppers and fresh cucumber for Mary dried tomato and cucumber for Lily and just cucumber for Marlene. You also added some of your favourite veggies and topping to the one she’d made for you and random stuff for the three extra sandwiches Marlene thought to make in case anyone needed any food after the class, which was rather likely. 

“How are we gonna take this?” you asked as you looked at the rather huge pile of sandwiches on the table. 

“I thought about it,” Marlene said as she pulled a tiny picnic basket from one of her pockets. It was so small it might as well have been made for a pixi rather than a human. 

“That’s adorable!” you said as you looked at it. 

“It’s definitely not gonna fit,” Peter said. 

Sirius burst into a laugh, and Remus gave him a disapproving look.

“What?” 

“Nothing, It’s just… never mind.” 

“No, I want to know!” Peter demanded. 

“A bad joke,” you said as you looked at Sirius, who looked offended. 

“Yeah, since you’ve never had that issue. Right, Sirius?” Marlene added with a smirk, and Sirius turned to her, now even further aggravated. 

“For your information,” Sirius said as he stood up, but Remus was quick to pull him right back in his chair while Marlene exploded into a fit of laughter. 

“By Merlin! Should have seen your face,” she said in between giggles. 

Sirius was sitting with his arms over his chest and pouting ever so slightly; he looked pretty cross. Adorably so, if you might say. You leaned closer to him and placed your head over his shoulder; his hair tickled your cheek as you grabbed his arm with your hands. Remus, who was sitting on the other side of Sirius, was looking at the two from the side of his eye as he munched on some pancakes. He deliberately brought one hand down and placed it just above Sirius’ knee reassuringly. 

You smiled when you noticed and pressed a loud kiss to Sirius’ cheek. “Never mind them, Puppy,” you started, even if Marlene was still laughing as she tried to explain the joke to Peter, who still looked quite confused. “We both know that’s not true.” 

Sirius hummed, not quite satisfied yet, although, had you been looking at him from the front, you would have noticed the tension in his cheeks from attempting to hold back a smile. There was nothing more that he loved than being the centre of your attention, or Moony’s. And at that moment, he was the centre of both.  

You moved one of your arms to play with his hair, allowing your fingers to dance at the nape of his neck as you pressed yet another kiss, this time closer to his ear and lingering just a bit longer before whispering, “Perhaps we should have some witnesses?  We could show Moony later what we both know…” 

Sirius turned to you and cleared his throat as he pulled on the neck of his shirt, loosening his tie a little in the process. 

“Marlene, make sure to tease me more often when Lily’s around,” James said as he leaned next to her and took a cucumber from one of the sandwiches. 

“Oi, that’s not for you, Potter!” she said as she smacked his hand lightly. 

“I mean,” James said as he took a bite of the cucumber he had managed to steal from her. “He was upset for a second, and then he got pampered and all by Vix and–” 

“Look!” you cried as you pointed at the clock behind the two of you. Remus kicked James on the shin, and he yelped rather loudly.  “It’s late; we really should get going now!” 

Marened frowned and turned to look at the clock, by then, Remus had already made the minute hand advance by at least 15 minutes, making it seem like it was much later. “Huh, I would have sworn we still had time,” she said, turning back to you as she tilted her head. “Anyway, we should get going,” she said as she stood up and pointed her wand at the small basket. “Engorgio.” 

Suddenly, her basket grew into a normal-sized picnic basket. She smiled and started placing the sandwiches inside. You helped her add some other sugary fruits like apples, bananas, cherries and even some peeled oranges since you thought it might be of use in case someone got low bIood sugar like in the previous class.

“Here,” Remus said as he passed over some berries in a small linen bag, “Pomfrey said these are good for dizziness.” 

“Thanks,” Marlene said as she took the small bag and placed them in the basket.

Peter was quick to finish his second breakfast muffin, and you all stood up and walked towards the lawn. Marlene and Lily were sitting on the snow next to Tom and Beth, talking as they waited. Marlene caught up with them faster than the rest, taking her gloves out and putting them on before allowing her hands to fall on the snow. 

“What happened? Is he not here yet?” 

“Still a few minutes early,” said Tom as he checked his wristwatch. 

“What? I thought we were late,” Marlene said, confused. 

“Clock must have been wrong,” you said as you plopped down on the floor next to Tom, not bothering with the gloves and resting your hands on your thighs instead. 

“We haven’t talked,” he said with a small smile and a low, dignified tone.

“Right,” you said with a smile as you wet your lips. While you had seen Tom pretty much every day since Wednesday, you’d been so caught up with the prank and then with Nieve and classes that you really hadn’t had a talk with him. And least not a talk in which he could ask you the things he wanted to ask. Even if he already had a fair idea of how your talk with the boys had gone. If he had to guess, he would say it had been brilliant. “We’ll make time, I promise,” you said with a smile. 

He was about to say something else when Dumbledore appeared in the middle of the yard with a rather smug-looking expression. “Nice to see you all again,” he said with a smile. A few students had quit the class after too much vomiting, but most of the kids that survived the first two apparition classes were still there. In fact, the only person you knew who had quit was one of Beth’s roommates.

“Today,” Dumbledore said as he turned around to motion the students sitting behind him to move closer to where you stood, their steps crunching the snow were muffled by his next words. “Things are going to be a little more complicated than the previous classes.” You smiled, there was something about a good challenge that always called your attention. “You’re going to start attempting to apparate by yourselves.” 

“But, professor,” someone protested. “I don’t feel ready yet.” 

“I will continue to work on apparitions with those who don’t feel ready yet, but for those willing to try, we’re ready as well. In case of Splinching, Fizzy and Sproots will be ready to transport you to the hospital wing with Pomfrey,” he said. “Madam Ponfrey has already prepared a few beds and potions and is ready to deal with any case kind of injury, be it mild or more serious.” 

James seemed pretty pleased at the idea of being able to apparate by himself if the shine in his eyes and the jittery tapping on his feet against the snow was anything to go by. Sirius looked quite excited as well. But Remus, who remembered how you’d been the last time you apparated in class, was looking at you apprehensively. 

You, on the other hand, were only thinking that this was perhaps one of the most practical classes in the entire school. Not that Charms, Potions or Care of Magical Creatures weren’t useful. But in times of war, you couldn’t help but think that having a way to disappear was more useful than most things, even if that meant running out of the barrier in a safe house. Perhaps purchasing one of those Vanishing Cabinets, like the one back in Burgin and Burkes wasn’t such a terrible idea. Not for Hogwarts, but for whatever it was you were going after, and of course, during the summer break. 

“The ones who are willing to do it by themselves, please step behind me, you’ll be working with Professor Spellman, who kindly agreed to join us today to make sure everyone is safe.” 

A good deal of people stayed by Dombludore’s side while you stood up. “You are coming?” you asked the girls. 

“I’m staying,” Said Mary as she shook her head with determination. 

“I’ll come,” Said Beth as she too stood. “Tom?” 

“I don’t know,” he said with a frown, although he didn’t get up.

Peter opted to stay while the rest of the marauders were more than ready to cross over to the other side. You were about to walk that way when James crouched, levelling himself with Lily, who was sitting on the snow with her arms crossed over her knees. She was biting her lip as she looked attentively at the floor near her snow-covered boots as if they could give her the answers she needed. 

“Are you okay?” James asked as he tilted his head, trying to steal her attention away from the freshly chopped grass. 

“Huh?” she said as her attention focused on him. She smiled. “Oh, yeah.” 

“What’s got your pretty head so preoccupied?” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to do it by myself,” she replied with a sigh. “You see, I know all the theory, and I’ve done it with Dumbledore enough times to be able to do it by myself… but I’ve seen what splinching looks like…” She threw a look your way. “I’m scared to end up like that, or much worse.” 

You were about to say that splinching hadn’t been all that bad, but Remus noticed, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, shaking his head to stop you and then nodding towards James. You nodded and turned to look at the two of them again.

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of doing it by yourself.” He smiled. “But there is absolutely no pressure for you to do it right now–” he then pulled his hand up and offered it to her “–if you decide to go for it, I’d be right there beside you. How does that sound?” 

Lily gave James a confused look as if she was not used to him being the serious one. Even you and the boys were looking at the interaction relatively impressed. Lily smiled and took hold of James’ hand. He got up and pulled her along with him, spinning her around and landing his arm over her shoulders seconds later. “So you don’t get cold,” he said casually. She laughed and shook her head, and the two of them started walking to the other side. 

Mary and Marlene looked at each other with impressed glances as if they couldn’t quite believe what had happened. “When did James become more clever than the three of us combined?” you said softly, almost on an impressed breath. 

“They grow so fast, don’t they?” Tom said dramatically as he wiped an invisible tear from his eye. 

“So silly,” you said as you nudged Tom with your knee and then turned to look at your other friend, “Mars?” 

“Oh, I’m definitely coming,” she said as she stood up and walked over to the other side, right behind James and Lily. 

“Maybe Prongs didn’t need all that help in the end.” 

“You’re joking,” Remus said sceptically. “You’ve read his letters!” 

You cringed at the memory of some of his quidditch comparisons, “You’re right, he wouldn’t have made it without us.” 

“No, he wouldn’t.” 

“Let’s go, then,” Sirius said after a small silence, looking in between the two of you as he bit his lip.

“Let’s go,” you agreed with a wink. The three of you walked over to the other side. 

Spellman was already there. He had a huge dark purple coat with black fluffy ends and a matching ushanka that made him look like Father Christmas if Father Christmas was Father Halloween. 

“What’s with the attire?” Marlene asked nonchalantly, only to get elbowed by Lily, who knew how indiscrete the question had been. 

“I’m rather sensitive to the cold,” responded Professor Spellman coolly. 

“What about warming spells?” asked James, who knew no more about indiscretion than Marlene.

“Oh, it has plenty, but still,” he retorted and shivered just by looking at the snow. “Who’ll go first?” 

“We’ll do it one by one?” asked Lily. 

“We don’t want to risk any of you splinching or crashing against each other while trying to get somewhere else.” Spellman nodded.

“Well then,” she said as she unconsciously leaned a little closer to James. From the group, which wasn’t all that large to begin with, nobody seemed to want to be the first one. Or at least nobody jumped to the opportunity like they sometimes did in class. 

“Should I choose?” Asked Spellman as he quirked an eyebrow, taking his hands out of his pocket to adjust his ushanka down again. 

You looked around. Still, everyone remained glued to their spot, as if the snow were resin sticking them to the ground. You sighed about to step in, but Sirius noticed, and, imagining your reluctance, stepped forwards himself. 

“I’ll do it,” he said hastily. 

Spellman nodded and beckoned him to walk towards him.  

“You got this, mate,” said James with a thumbs up. Sirius responded with a confident wink and stepped right next to Spellman. 

Spellman cleared his throat. “You’re going to attempt to jump from here to the other side, right there next to the red flag, do you see it?” 

Sirius narrowed his eyes, in the distance, about a hundred metres from where they stood, stood a small wooden peg, about 40 cm above the snow, with a small scarlet handkerchief tied to it, “Yeah,” he said. 

“Measuring distance is much harder while apparating than it is while walking, so don’t be too disoriented if you don’t land too close to the spot.” Sirius raised his eyebrow at that. “That’s why the risk of splinching is very high when you apparate to a place you don’t know. “You always run the risk of apparating in the spot where another object lays, and in that case, splinching would be the last of your issues.” 

“Professor,” said Lily as she raised her hand. “I read somewhere that Apparating a few feet above the ground is recommended for younger wizards since it helps them avoid smaller objects that might be on the ground.” 

“You can definitely do that. It’s especially recommended if you can’t see the place you’re apparating to. In part, it’s why we start apparition in winter, the snow cushions bad falls and helps numb you down if you splinch badly. At least until you’re taken to the infirmary.” 

“Does that happen often?” Marle asked.

Spellman shrugged in response; his expression wasn’t all that reassuring either. “Mr. Black, are you ready?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Good,” Spellman smiled. “Whoever apparates close enough to grab the flag without having to take a step towards it will earn 20 house points.” 

“But we’re all Gryffindors,” said Beth. 

 “Makes no difference, it’s very rarely achieved on the first try,” Spellman said with a shrug. “If any of you achieve it on their second try, then it will be 10 points, and if you do it on the third, then only 5.” 

“It’s all right,” said James,  his voice turning almost instantly into the one he used on the pitch.  “We have seven tries, that’s more than enough to get in the first go, isn’t it?” Lily, who stood next to him, seemed pretty impressed at how fast he’d gotten a hold of the situation; she had never been to a quidditch training with him, but it was the soft, authoritarian manner in which he carried himself that got the most of her attention. He was a brilliant leader. He’d make a fantastic prefect, she thought. 

“Should I go for it?” 

“Please,” Spellman said as he nodded and extended his hand in invitation. “Make sure you’re all at least a metre and a half away from him,” he added as he turned to the rest of you. 

Sirius stepped forward and turned around, Remus took a step back and gently pulled you along with him, “for good measure,” he softly whispered in your ear as he leaned towards you. His warm breath prickled against your skin, and you almost shivered at his closeness. And assuming it was because of the cold, he took a step closer to you. You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder in what you hoped was a friendly enough gesture for it not to be suspicious. Is it something you would have done to James? Right?

You tried to recall if you had ever done that to James, or Tom even, while Sirius looked ahead, his feet tapping on the snow and his breathing steady as he tried to hype himself up for apparating. It’s something I’ve done to Marlene and Lily countless times, you recalled; Beth and even to Clara from the reading club, back when she was complaining about the werewolf book. It’s a friendly enough gesture, you thought. As you leaned and you snuggled a little closer to Remus. Besides, it’s cold, and nobody’s looking. 

Except someone was looking. Marlene had kept a close eye on the three of you since she was scared the complicit smiles could mean another prank, which meant more risk for the quidditch team. After all, they only had two reserve players, and you were three troublemakers; Teddy wasn’t all that great of a substitute captain, and games were always more fun with you around. And although she regarded the way in which you leaned onto Remus as nothing out of the ordinary –since it really was cold– and she was basically hogging Beth at that point, she did think the small, pleased smile from Remus as he looked at you was rather odd. 

But by then, Sirius was nodding, ready to apparate by himself for the first time. He focused, and after another deep breath, he disappeared. There was a light shuffly sound, accompanied by a crack. Next thing you knew, Sirius was on the other side, about 2 metres away from the peg. He smiled triumphantly since he had done it on the first try. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Spellman asked Sirius, his voice loud and clear. 

Sirius looked down to his chest and then to his arms, softly patting himself all over, he shrugged and then lifted both of his thumbs towards Spellman. Then he leaned down and tried to reach for the flag, but it was too far. 

Spellman shook his head. “Come back, Mr. Black, it’s time for the next person to do it.” He turned back at your group. “Who’ll be next?” 

“Me!” Marlene said as she walked towards Spellman. Sirius was about halfway back when the Professor nodded. Marlene took a deep breath, and there seemed to be a flicker, the hint of a crack, but she was still right where she stood. 

“That’s good, you’re getting there,” Spellman encouraged. 

“You’ve got this!” you said with a smile. 

Merlene nodded to herself, holding her wand tighter than before and closing her eyes. She felt compressed all over, like she had before. By the time she was on the other side, her eyes ached, and she felt like she might get a headache. But as soon as she realised she had done it and that she was on the other side, you heard a nervous yet delighted laugh as she allowed herself to fall back on the thick layer of snow behind her. The coldness of it helped the soreness of her eyes that had –for a second– felt like they would recede back to her fucking brain.

Spellman looked at her and shook his head. “Miss Mckinnon, you may lay on the snow over on this side, we require you to continue with the exercise.

“Right,” Marlene said to herself as she looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, but in a nice cloudy way where you could still see the blue of the sky above. “Just a minute,” she shouted after, letting her head fall back and taking a few deep breaths. By then, Sirius had already returned.

“I was so close,” Sirius said as he approached the lot of you. “A meter closer and I would have gotten the flag easily. I know I’ll make it on the next try.” 

“If I don’t get it on mine,” Prongs replied teasingly. 

Sirius hummed in return, a complicit smile as he sat down beside you and Sirius on the snow. Once Marlene stood up, Spellman turned back to the group. “Who’s next?” 

“I’ll go,” Remus said as he stood and walked a little further. You missed his warmth almost the second he left, a small shiver crawling from your lower back to your neck. Remus managed to do it on his first try. And while he was much closer to the peg than Sirius had been, it wasn’t close enough for him to reach it. 

“How are you?” you asked Sirius once you made sure Remus was okay. 

“Fantastic,” he said with a smile, taking your hand in his. “You didn’t bring your gloves, did you?” 

“Nope,” you said as you curled your fist and dug it under the hem of your sweater. “You didn’t either.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t have chronic cold hands,” he teased, pulling your hand to his stomach. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

You smiled, pushing your hand down teasingly. “Do you?”

Sirius laughed at the way you brushed your fingers downwards. It was elating, and it certainly did a great deal to warm him, bIood running from his limbs to his cheeks and then south.

“Such a tease,” he laughed. 

“Who's next?” Spellman asked. 

You looked around, James looked rather comfortable and engaged in a conversation with Lily. And Beth didn’t look like she was going to go either, so you raised your hand. 

“Excellent, please come forward.” 

Remus was already halfway through the walk back when he noticed you’d be next and decided to wait for you where he was instead of continuing to walk. You stood from where you were, Sirius’ hand gently squeezing yours as you pulled it from his sweater. 

You walked towards the place Spellman pointed, and once you made sure you were far enough from everyone, you concentrated on the other side. Thinking of landing right beside the pole as you closed your eyes. The Black lake looked dark and crisp ahead, Sirius looked at you from the side and gave you an encouraging thumbs up. Your mind went back to the last time you had apparated; you shook your head as if that could shake away the thought. 

You looked at the wooden peg again, the flaming carmine flag waving proudly at the end. You breathed, trying to concentrate on that rather than on the disturbing memories that flashed through your head. That fact that none of the times you had appeared lately had any positive connotations not helping at all. As if you had been conditioned to associate apparition with something bad. And while your mind was more than ready, your magic seemed to refuse to cooperate. 

But you had always been stubborn. You took a deep breath and looked at the flag again, Remus was there, not so far from it, perhaps about 10 meters or so. He was waiting for you on the other end, like he had always been. Calm, ready to pull you close and hold you until you feel better. You ought to have known you were in love with him way before you did. You smiled, and then you felt the pressure all around you. Breathing stopped, and you felt the discomfort on your chest, as if all of your limbs were being pressed into each other. It wasn’t pleasant, but none of it had bothered you before, and it wasn’t bothering you now, either. You heard the familiar pop; there was a change of air, colder, brisker, the breeze smelling much more of the familiar tangy smell of the Black Lake. The wind carried a distant gasp to your ears, and right as you opened your eyes, you saw Remus, looking quite startled, right by your side.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he took the one step that separated the two, placing his hands on your face as if he were checking for a fever. “You landed way too close to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m…” You looked around; the flag was far from where you stood. You’d missed the mark by quite a lot. Nobody had landed that far from until then. Even Marlene, who'd had a hard time apparating, had landed closer than you. You looked at yourself: no splinching, no headache, no nausea. “I’m perfect,” you added, dumbfounded almost. “You? Didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

“Not at all, it was a delightfully clean landing. You did startle me a little, though, I thought you’d get the flag.” 

“I guess my mind focused on something else,”  you added with a simple smile and an attentive look at him.  He tilted his head to the side, about to reproach you because of how dangerous it had been when Spellman apparated a few metres away. 

“Did she splinch?” he asked in a rush since Remus still had his hands over your shoulders. With a snap of his fingers, the house elves were also rushing towards the two of you, along with a hospital bed. 

“Uh, no,” Remus said as he pulled his hands from you. “She’s fine.” 

Spellman turned to you as if to confirm. “Yeah, yeah,” you nodded. “Perfectly fine, just got directions messed up, I guess.” 

Spellman nodded, waving his hand at the elves, and they apparated back to where they had been initially: out of the way but ready to help if it was necessary. “I’ll apparate back there; please walk the way back together.” He said and then turned to Remus. “Mr. Lupin, if she starts feeling odd in any way, please inform me as soon as possible. Shoot red sparks to the sky if it’s necessary.” 

“Yes, Professor.” 

Spellman nodded and apparated back to the other side effortlessly. “Do you think we’ll ever be that good?” 

You are already that good, he thought. If you really had been thinking of him and managed to apparate yourself less than a metre away without hurting him or yourself in the process. “Certainly,”  he nodded.

Back with the rest of the group, Sirius was looking at the two of you with a smile while James walked over to the side, ready to be the next to try. He looked at the flag with a smile on his face, and once both you and Remus were far enough away, he got the nod from Spellman he was expecting. He landed half a meter away from the flag and picked it up, raising it in his hand while screaming, “I got it,” in delight. 

He ran towards you and Remus, placing his hands on each of your shoulders as he dangled the red flag right next to your face. “You missed it, I landed so close, like Vix, but next to the actual flag and not you.” He said to Remus. “You should have seen it!” 

You threw a look at Remus as James rambled on.  There was nobody in the world that could boast as much as James and still be as likeable, you were certain. 

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A/N: How are you guys? I feel like being gone for so long also took away from me tha chance of hearing from you, hope the wolrd has been treating you darlings as fantastic as you deserve to be treated!

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Read more Marauders Fiction

[himbodruid]

Storm

CW: mentions of death, PTSD, trauma, survivor’s guilt

Oneshot heavy angst Rafayel x Reader

You survive a horrific event and seek out Rafayel on a stormy night

Not NSFW for smut reasons, but does delve into heavy topics, so probably best left as minors DNI

**********

There was something about the power of an unrelenting storm that brought about late night inspiration. The flashes from lightning streaking across the canvas offered daring glimpses to the painting Rafayel was immersed in. The room was otherwise dark, save for a single candle he’d lit. He didn’t mind, he didn’t need to see what was happening. This painting wasn’t about precise strokes anyway.

Three rapid-fire bursts of light made him pause, brush hovering over the canvas. Something was off, a small voice at the back of his head urging him to go to the door. He ignored it at first, until it came again. This time saying someone approaches. It was an intuition that was only attuned to one person, and she should not be out in a storm like this.

And sure enough, there you were on his doorstep, drenched and breathing heavily.

“Cutie? What are you doing here?” A half smile spread on his face, trying to not let his worry show at the disheveled state you were in. Your hair was plastered to your face, clothing soaked through. He would be surprised if your service weapon was even functional once dry. But what caught him off guard the most was the amount of blood splattered across your face and chest.

He didn’t give you time to respond, instead pulling you into the warmth of the villa and shoving the cardigan he wore around your shoulders. Your body trembled and the nonverbal and near-catatonic state you were in sent spikes of anxiety rocketing through him.

You could hear him calling your name, but his voice was a distant echo that was drowned out by the screams that were still ringing in your ear. You didn’t even know why you’d come here, but your legs just carried you on a whim of their own. You dragged yourself up from the depths of despair when you felt his warm hands cupping your ice cold face. The concern knitting his brow together is the first thing that came into focus, and then his voice.

“There you are,” he said, with a relieved sigh. His soft smile, his warm presence…just him. You understood now why you sought him out. Breath stole away from you and your face crumpled as a sob clawed its way up your throat. Death was part of every day, but the horrors that you’d witnessed that day were enough to make you question everything.

You swayed on your feet, the cramping in your legs evidence to how far you’d gone to come here. His arms came around you, holding you to him and swaying. He didn’t ask what was wrong, and for that you were grateful. You didn’t know if you could talk about it then, if ever. Not without flashes of your colleagues being struck down from right beside you. Rookies that you’d helped train, now nothing more than decimated corpses, casualties of the hunt.

You came back to the present again, realizing that Rafayel was running a shower. He’d steered you there without you having any cognizant memory of it- or had he carried you? Only he knew.

He approached you cautiously, his movements slow so he wouldn’t frighten you, as though you were a wild animal on the verge of bolting. Maybe you were. A hand appeared in your line of sight, interrupting the hypnotizing pattern of the tile you were staring at without seeing. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to clear it and looked at him. His face held such a tender calmness and you wanted to do nothing more than curl into him. But you were aware that your trembling was more than just the trauma you’d witnessed. An icy chill seeped deep into your bones, and you were almost certain you could hear your joints creaking like old doors when you lifted your hand to take his.

He was gentle and placating, asking permission for every move he made. Asking “is this okay?” for every touch, for every soaked article of clothing that stuck to you like a second skin that he peeled from you. It took time, but eventually you stood trembling and nude in front of him, not a single hint of embarrassment you knew you should feel. You were numb, physically and emotionally, when he guided you into the hot spray of the shower. Panic clawed at you when he left you, but you fought it back when you realized he only did so to remove his own clothing before joining you.

His touch kept you in the present, the warmth of his hands and the water working to clean you, to warm you and pull you back from that pit. You kept your eyes locked on him, sometimes unseeing. For the most part, though, you concentrated on the way his brow furrowed, the way his mouth dropped into a pout whenever he frowned, the cerulean depths of his eyes broken up by startlingly bright streaks of fuschia. The relief that washed over his face when he realized most of the blood on your face wasn’t yours, and what was yours came from a single cut that split your brow. You hissed a breath at the unexpecting sting when he dabbed at the cut with a cloth. The only evidence of what you’d survived that day.

Survived. Survived. When others didn’t. So many others…

“Don’t,” he said softly, taking you by the chin and making you look at him again. His voice snapped you back to him. “I can see you trying to leave me again, so just don’t.”

The command became an anchor for you, alongside his touch. When he finished assessing you for more injuries, he took his time to wash the blood and mud that caked your hair and then just held you to him until your body temperature returned to normal, until your trembling ceased and your breath wasn’t heaving. The steady beat of his heart in your ear helped to ground you, and you were finally able to close your eyes without seeing the events of the day unfold over and over.

And even after the shower, the care and concern that he showed you was so much more than you thought you deserved. He brushed and dried your hair, humming to himself as he went about the task as if that were a normal everyday thing he did. Dressed you in one of his shirts so your clothes could dry, bundled you in a pile of blankets, and then led you back to the studio so you could watch the storm together. His arms were wrapped around you in a loose embrace while he sat behind you. At first your posture was stiff and awkward, but you sunk back into his warmth after a minute. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions, and for that you were grateful. His silent companionship did more to soothe your aching soul than any therapy.

“Rafayel?” Your voice was small, alien to you. You were normally boisterous and obnoxious, never meek like this strange shell of a creature that sat in your place.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He huffed a small laugh, kissing you on the temple. His arms squeezed you briefly, as though that alone could keep the shattered pieces of you from floating away. And in a way, it did.

“Stay here with me, cutie,” he said. The relief in his voice was palpable, as though nothing mattered until he could hear you acknowledge his presence.

“Is that okay?” You didn’t want to be anywhere else but right there with him. And you didn’t want to be alone.

“Stay with me as long as you need, however long you want. I’ll be right here with you, always within arm’s reach.”

You turned slightly in his embrace so that you could look at him. You studied his face, traced every contour of it with your eyes. Memorized every detail, right down to the two tiny freckles that dotted the side of his nose and his cheek. You didn’t believe in perfection, but in that moment, that is what he was to you.

He wasn’t paying attention, his eyes cast out to the sea and the turmoil of the storm that swirled above it. He was still very conscious of you, though, of your assessing gaze, of your every breath and movement. You felt your heart stutter in your chest, with a fleeting emotion that was something akin to affection. A light in the darkness.

So, it was with surprise to you both that you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He froze, you froze, and then you pulled back from him, embarrassed at that moment of weakening impulse control. But instead of letting you shrink back into yourself, he kissed your brow before resting his head against yours with a soft, contented sigh.

And so, you spent the night in his embrace. When sleep did come to you, plagued with nightmares, he upheld his promise and was there within arm’s reach whenever you woke- if he wasn’t already holding you. He did everything in his power to help you heal from that day, and expected nothing more than your cooperation when it came to eating and drinking.

When the darkness finally became less burdensome, you came to the terrifying realization that you were in love with him. But his actions spoke louder than any words ever could, and you knew that he loved you too. You could see it in the softening of his gaze, in his smile, the warmth of his voice, the attentiveness in which he catered to you.

Perfect, indeed.

[thegnomelord]

CH 1: With a Spark It Starts Just Like It Ended

CW: NSFW Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, M reader but can be read as GN, Mage reader, Monster 141 AU, reader is described as having thick fucked up arms.

AO3 3.7k words, more of an intro to what's to come lol.

Old man Abdul had lived a good life. A harsh one. But a good one.

He was amongst the first to grab a gun and raise the fight against the Russians, risking life and limb for the freedom of Urzikstan even as members of his pack bled and died to artillery fire and noxious gas. And he alone had survived to see his country set free of tyranny and chose to stay in the military long after his hair had greyed.

And how was he rewarded for his service?

With a 'promotion' to guard the basement of a conference hall. They even called it the 'Peace House' as if that made his position grander, though in his humble opinion the only peaceful thing happening within the halls above was the lack of physical violence.

"Hey, did you fall asleep on me old man?" Taim, a bright eyed and gap-toothed human private so young he could've been one of his grandsons, asks as he throws down five playing cards on the floor between them. Royal flush, again.

Old man Abdul's eyes are soft with a glare and he throws down his own cards, already knowing he'd lost. "Go fish." He huffs, leaning back into the chair they'd been able to squirrel away.

It was embarrassing to think that boredom could torture him more than the Russians did, but they were only a few hours into their shift and he was already thinking of biting a bullet. Chances were they'd stay down here long after the diplomats up top finished bickering about who knows what...

"Hey," Taim perks up, and from the few weeks he's known him, Abdul knows the glint in his brown eyes heralds something stupid. "How about whoever loses this round takes a shot from your leg?"

He is proven correct.

"How about I throw you into a minefield so we can match?" Old man Abdul responds, his tail wagging from side to side. His tail looks more at home on a rat than any werewolf, the fur there an accidental casualty of a Russian fire mage's spell that had taken his leg off. The prosthetic leg only fitting on his human body isn't nearly as insulting as the warding totem they'd given him to protect against lethal magic after his leg had gone flying.

Taim gulps and holds his hands up. "There's no need for that sir." He quickly adds, clearing his throat and reaching to the floor to pick up their cards and shuffle them.

Taim's warding totem slips out from beneath his jacket, but it's different from old man Abdul's. Not in appearance, with the same materials every mage will make theirs differently, but in feel. It feels different...wrong.

Eyes narrowing he reaches out and holds the piece of faintly glowing rock between his claws. Heat radiates into his fingers, the magic inside pulsing in a steady even thrum like a machine instead of beating like a heartbeat; like something not quite alive.

Abdul had been in combat long enough to know how good a warding totem is with how his body reacts to it.

The shit one he'd been given barely gets the remaining fur on his tail to bristle.

Taim's makes his skin want to melt off.

"Where did you get this?" Abdul asks, tail curling up as he lets go of the totem with disgust clear on his face. "That rock could probably protect you from L3 mage without cracking, maybe even L4." Call him paranoid, but a private getting a totem to protect him from mages rarer than unicorns doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, that-" The young man clears his throat, the totem laying flat against his chest like an insult to life. "Came from up top a few days ago, guess all those terror attacks spooked command and they want to keep us normal people safe." He realizes his words and quickly adds. "-not that I'm calling you not normal or anything sir, it's just that-"

"-You're squishier than me, yes, I know." Old man Abdul rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff.

Taim gives a nervous little giggle, scratching at his curly dark hair. "No offence sir. It's just...you know."

"We all look out for our kinfolk first." Old man Abdul sighs, going to wave him off.

His pointy ear twitches and immediately he's jumping to his feet when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the elevator mechanism running. No one is supposed to come down at this time, and Abdul already has his rifle raised to point at the elevator doors by the time Taim is able to get to his own feet. The old werewolf doesn't even need to say anything for the young man to stand on opposite side of him, they work together well, both guns aimed at the person revealed by the opening elevator doors.

It's just the janitor.

Taim lets out a small breath and lowers his gun, relaxing as the janitor gives them a small greeting both of them have to strain their ears to hear as a face mask muffles their words.

"That was a bit embarrassing." Taim chuckles weakly, nodding his own greeting and taking a step back so the janitor can push the heavy cart past them. Abdul notes the janitor's hands are thick and large, the veins poking out beneath latex gloves. Murky water sloshes inside the mop bucket, the trash bag filled to the brim and budging.

It's just a janitor.

But like an annoying tick on his ass, something doesn't let old man Abdul relax.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind like the one he'd get when he was being watched, and when he catches sight of the janitor's eyes beneath the wide-brimmed cap that buzzing stops; Instead replaced with a flash sense of wrongness in his bones and the feeling of tar inside his heart and an indescribable scent — like stale beer and burnt grass and deep dark rot — it has his fingers moving to the trigger before the sight of magic melting through latex can make the short trip from his eyes to his brain—

Glowing lines spring into thin air to form magic circles before their eyes.

The warding totems shatter.

'Pop' goes a head.

Both bodies drop to the ground.

"Could have told me there was a dog." Your words scrape against your throat like shards of glass from the disuse, melted latex stretching into long strands as you take off the cleaner gloves and throw them away, your fingers steaming and glowing hot with mana before you hide them away in tactical gloves.

"I-" Taim tries to say but his voice fails him, eyes and mind still blinded by the harsh glare of magical fire.

"Save it." You cut him off, pulling open the lip of the trash bag to dig out your facemask helmet. It's both a full face helmet and a gasmask, scratched up from years of use but still able to protect your head while keeping you anonymous. A shame it can't filter out the stench of burnt flesh, but you've gotten used to it.

Taim's vision clears and the moment his eyes settle on the charred remains of Abdul's head— the hollowed out skull where concentrated flame had burned a hole straight through everything in it's path, the flesh and bone charred black —he's scrambling away as fast as his feet can push him, the shattered remains of your warding totem crumbling beneath his fingers. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs when he breaths in, but his stomach is thankfully empty so he ends up dry heaving.

"On your feet." Your words are hard to understand under your gasmask, but you don't need to raise your voice. The tone you use has him scrambling to his feet in seconds.

"I- I- yes sir!" Taim manages to stutter out, doesn't even have to fake his fear as he stands at attention. He watches you reach into the dirty water to pull out a Handheld Personal Computer and shake off the residual droplets to ensure it still works before putting it in your pocket.

"When is the next check in?" You ask, reaching further into the trash bag to grasp the handhold on the heavy gas canister hidden beneath office trash. You pull it out without much effort, setting it carefully on the ground so you can recheck that the release valve is intact.

"20 minutes sir." Taim responds and he doesn't need to know Arabic to know what's inside the canister when a grinning skull is printed on the metal.

You let out a low sound, and Taim tries not to peer too closely at you. Sometimes he wonders what face a person who burns people alive without a single second of hesitation could have, but then you look at him and he sees that unnatural glow of mana in your eyes behind the darkened lenses of the helmet and he's glad he's met with the emotionless visage of the mask rather than the one beneath it.

"You have 10 to get out before Hell opens up." You say, standing back up and picking up the canister without complaint. "Use the emergency tunnels, don't spook the VIPs."

Taim is human, not sensitive to magic like the monsters are, but even he can feel the latent mana in your veins that strengthens your body. Like maggots at the back of his skull. It makes a second round of bile rise to his throat. "Yes sir."

You pay close attention to him until he disappears down the corridor before going the opposite way. Alone, it is easier to calm the lingering heat in your veins until the eternal engine of mana in your chest fizzles down to embers like a sleeping beast. Can't have your mana mess with sensitive electronics, even if that does leave you exposed on the cams (as if there's anyone alive to watch them)

"Ifrit, status?" The small radio in your ear crackles.

"Moving to the target, encountered and neutralized a wolf." You answer, taking sharp turns as you follow a path you'd memorized beforehand. "No other monsters to report."

You were lucky to run into one down in the bowels of the conference hall instead of at the front gate. Otherwise your espionage mission would have turned into a frontal assault. Not that Khaled would have minded, you were getting paid to send a loud statement after all.

"Good." You don't need to see his face to know he's smirking, your employer wasn't a huge fan of subhumans. "Continue to the objective."

You respond in affirmative, coming to a heavy metal door, locked with a passcode and even a palm scanner; It's all a valiant effort to keep sensitive data safe, but it may as well be cardboard to you. You summon another circle, this time right on the door, biting your tongue. You're not good with 'subtle' but you haven't forgotten what Taurus or Sierra had taught you; first pushing a bit of loose ash magic between the large atoms making up the metal to disrupt the bonds, then a single pulse of fire ignites the volatile ash and has the entire bottom half crumbling into red hot shards.

Molten slag drips down to the floor when you duck down under the remaining half of the door to find yourself in the server room. Steam rises when the cold air meets your hot skin, but you hardly notice as you first head to the ventilation system at the back of the room. It's dark, but you don't bother turning on the lights, the subtle mana in your eyes enough to give you primitive night vision.

"Ifrit to Alpha-Actual, connecting the payload right now." You say, setting the canister down. The ventilation collects the air from the server room to push it through the entire building and then outside, so all you have to do is melt a hole through the exit pipe until it's big enough for the hose on the canister to fit snugly inside.

"And the files?" Khaled's voice sounds in your ear once you're finished.

"Going now." Standing back up you head to the central server. Taking out the HPC you hook it up to the mainframe, watching the screen until it shows 'connection secure'. "I'm connected."

"Copy that." Your eyes scan the cracked screen (which you broke less than a week after getting it), seeing the file transfer start before Khaled even finishes speaking and trying to read and memorize the names of dozens the files but they change too quickly. "File transfer ETA 5 minutes. Sit tight."

Giving confirmation you keep an eye on the doorway. Though you are positioned in such a way that you'd see the shadow of someone coming in before they see you, years of being behind enemy lines and acting as a friendly to your foes has taught you to be careful. Especially when you can't use more than a smidgeon of mana without frying the entire server system.

You are lucky that no-one comes, the remaining guards too busy guarding the diplomats above you to check what's beneath their noses. While waiting you access the public stream to watch the peace talks, setting the sound to the lowest possible setting so you can keep an eye on the diplomats in case you need a change of plan.

"Got the files, you're clear to finish." You're moving before Khaled can finish speaking, leaving the HPC to hang by the cord from the server. "Oh, and remember: Loud."

"You get what you pay for sir." Kneeling down next to the gas canister you check to ensure your gas mask is firmly on and breathing in deeply; It restricts your breathing and makes muscles work harder, but your body is so used to it that it feels like coming back home.

"Letting the gas out now." Even with the gas mask you still hold your breath when you open the valve, the gas hissing as it escapes the canister, the fan right next to you helping push it through the system. You know there's not enough gas to reach the diplomats on the top floor, it's part of the plan, so when the gas pitters out you cast another circle inside the pipe.

The servers around you flicker meekly and crackle with electricity when you use your mana fully; Something intense and suffocating burns behind your sternum for just a second before liquid mana is rushing down your veins into your hands and coming out through the magic circle as copious amounts of ash.

The rotating fan right next to you spews some of your ash right back at you, flooding the server room in magic that has long since accepted your body enough not to hurt you. But even your seasoned stomach feels tight when you breathe in the mixture of ash and toxic gas, the chemicals turning your magic a nasty shade of green, and you make a mental note to change the filter when you're done with the op otherwise the toxified sediment collecting in there will poison you for months.

You can hear the diplomats begin to cough over the livestream in the HPC, but it all feels so distant when you shift and feel cold dog tags press against your burning chest. They're light like a noose around your neck, yet the absence of weight mocks you in a way their owners no longer can.

There's a familiar sting in your bones when your mana reservoir begins dwindling, but it's easy to push through it until the engine in your chest goes into overdrive from the stress the magic puts on your body. You only stop when the burning mana in your veins starts burning small holes in the sleeves of the janitor jacket, revealing bits of your mage marked skin.

Stopping the flow of ash your hands find themselves in your pocket, taking out a lighter. It's one of those old zippo lighters, the exterior is rusted from years of action and numerous initials are scratched into the metal, but somehow it still functions; It's the strange thing about it— the more you use it, the longer it lasts. Stop, and it dies.

"It's a bit like you, firebug."

Absentmindedly you trace the scratched initials in the metal, trying to ignore the hollowness in your chest when the screams beyond the smokescreen of ash start sounding familiar.

"Going dark." You say to them, flicking it open.

One spark is all it takes.

. . .

With Makarov having gone underground like a wanker after his escape from the gulag, Price and Laswell had been stuck with their heads in mountains of paperwork searching for the bastard. Price had known he'd be in for a headache the moment he agreed to let the boys watch a live football game between England and Scotland, but he reasoned they'd all been working hard enough to earn even a small break.

At the very least it gave them all a moment of reprieve from the stress of a possible world war.

It didn't stop Soap from being a bloody muppet.

"Oh fockin' 'ell!" Soap roars and jumps to his feet, growling at the teli where a ref held a red card above her head. "That should've been a yellow! Fock, one more eye and the ref's a right cyclops." He waves obscenities at the teli as if the ref can see them, his tail hitting Gaz every time it wagged.

"Soap!" Gaz groans and stretches one black wing to smack the werewolf over the head with his long flight feathers to stop him blocking the screen.

Though Gaz's wings are hollow, the smack still hurts. "Ow, what's that for?" Soap groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"At least take your defeat with a wee bit of dignity." Gaz smirks, folding his wings.

"Bold assumption he has any." Ghost mutters next to Price, making him chuckle.

“Oh ho! I’ll get me dignity when the bloody ref gets off 'er knees an’ stops blowing the entire game.” Soap turns to playfully snap his teeth at Gaz. "And what's tha-"

The football match cuts out, replaced with a news segment.

"-Oh, what the fock?" Soap grows quiet when the newscaster begins speaking.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. As we speak, the conference hall in Al Mazra, where diplomats from over 40 countries had come to discuss peace and trade agreements with the newly reinstated Urzikstan government, burns in the flames of another terrorist attack."

The footage shifts to a drone filming a bird's eye view shot of violent flames spewing from every hole and window to engulf the entire three story building in consuming fire, heavy plumes of smoke rising into the sky like a maw of a hungering beast to spew a storm of ash and cinders down to the ground. The clouds of ash have a sick green undertone to them.

"Shit." Gaz sucks in a breath.

"Mokarov's done hiding." Ghost notes, leaning in to look closely at the screen with narrowed eyes.

"How the fock did we miss this?" Soap asks the question in their minds, turning to look at Price. "This popped up like bloody whack-a-mole."

At that same time Price's phone rings. The dragon quickly fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Laswell's name as the caller ID before he picks it up while the reporter drawls on.

"Price, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm watching the teli." He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. Distantly he can hear the same news report sounding on her end.

"Authorities warn citizens to vacate the immediate area as toxic gas has been detected in the air. Military forces are already enroute, but the prospects for the diplomats survival are nonexistent."

Price's draconic eyes focus on the screen when the footage shifts to that inside the conference hall. Two diplomats argue about something Price can't begin to try and untangle, his focus on one man near the back who begins coughing. More follow suit, and even over the screen Price can tell the signs of toxic gas inhalation by the way more diplomats begin wheezing and coughing wetly.

"This isn't the Russians." Kate says after Price has put her on speaker.

"How come? Looks like some terrorist shite Makarov would pull." Johnny says, his tail curled up and the tip wagging occasionally as he pays attention to the screen.

Seconds later plumes of blackish-green smog erupt from the vents above the diplomats, spewing out with such force it knocks the the camera and the man behind it down to the ground. Ash Magic, Price realizes when he sees smoldering cinders drift almost peacefully in the all consuming fog. Seconds later something causes a spark and the volatile ash magic explodes.

"Ash mage." Ghost grunts, "Just great."

"Makarov doesn't use mages." Price says, scratching his beard.

"No, but Al-Asad does." Kate's voice drifts through the silent room as they watch several APC's arrive on the scene, armored soldiers exiting. But without any monsters who can stomach the heat like Price and with the fog of ash so thick it could be cut with a knife, the best they can do is secure the perimeter. "The CIA intercepted his broadcast before it went public, this is just the start."

Gaz hops off the couch, crossing the small distance to tap one claw at the screen. "What is that?" He asks. Seemingly hearing him, the drone camera focuses on where the main entrance of the building had been.

A dark silhouette of a person can be seen in the flames, growing darker and more refined until finally a featureless helmet emerges from the flames, a deep glow emanating from behind the lenses. It's followed by a body, clothes burnt away in some parts but the flesh beneath unharmed. Price can tell immediately it's a mage by the state of the arms — even from far away it's easy to tell the mage marks, the skin turned rough and dark like cooled magma, veins brimming with volatile mana.

Before the soldiers can fire a single bullet you lift one hand up, the dark mage marks turning to bright like fresh lava when mana flows from your chest to your fingers. A magic circle etches itself into the ground in an instant, so large the surrounding buildings fall into it's perimeter.

And with a second motion of your hand everything erupts into an all consuming cloud of ash.

Laswell's voice rings out. "That's Khaled's new attack dog."

Price and Ghost share a look, both know what will happen long before some nervous soldier caught in the ash cloud pulls the trigger. The cloud of ash explodes the second a spark is created in a weapon's chamber, plunging everything into chaos.

Great, a new wanker to worry about.

Price sighs, brows furrowing. "That's trouble all right."

Tag list: @resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten @lieutnt

Masterlist <- Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

You can imagine the helmet however you want, but it's in the style of the Devtac Ronin helmet.

[windser]

PLEASE write out that sylus work. The fandom beeds more spicy MCs and i can tell she would give him a run for his money

pairing: mc x sylus (soulmate!au) wc: 1.2k+

a/n: loooool here is just a bit of a teaser for how i imagined it all playing out. i highly doubt this is how mc and sylus will meet BUT its so fitting for how i image their dynamic playing out. but i really do want to wait for the official drop so I can confirm his characterization. [based on this post]

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

"he’s asking for me ?"

"he identified you by your mark."

your palm immediately goes to cover your wrist, blocking the neat scrawl from view. but it was little too late at this point.

you had never really taken care to hide your soulmate mark from the world. to bear it publicly was often a act of seeking from the individual, showing it proudly as if it might attract their pair sooner.

but for you, it was just as obscure seen or hidden, the mundaneness lining the words that felt like it would never truly have meaning.

‘you’re beautiful’

in your youth days, you thought it was the most romantic gesture to know that your fated person had such a high option of you at first glance. but the years tarnished that same phrase, after hearing it from too many loose lips with hollower intentions.

now it was just a first tattoo, fated second.

the slouch of your shoulder is nonchalant in gesture, though equally weighed down by the situation. “he probably just has intel on it. i’m too careless in the field if i can be identified so easily."

it was a crude bluff, a mere diversion from the pending truth. because yes, it was an indefinite, but only one individual in the world would ever need to find someone based on it.

besides this was the presumed leader of onichynus.

even considering the idea was a headache.

tara shuffles to the right at the sound of your name and you both look up to see jenna waiting, ready by the door.

her quiet nod feels like a direct pang to your temple.

right, a headache indeed.

࿓࿓༄༄࿓

though captured, albeit suspiciously easy, the operation did not come without effort. reportedly there were no casualties but it had been a battle enough in the end.

jenna warns you of as much as the two of you descend further into lower levels of the security facility. there weren’t many criminals who fit the eligibility to be locked behind maximum security. the hiss of the heavy steel doors partying to grant entry spoke volumes about the threshold needed to hold such a threat.

the leader of onichynus was an old tale but not the first. it never occurred to you until now what other individuals might be stored away here for the safety of linkon city.

“ma’am”

the hunter standing before the last sealed door saluted jenna with a stiff salute, the action drawing your attention to the smear of red against his palm.

a battle indeed.

jenna answers with a more tempered gesture, less precise with exhaustion.

“any changes?”

you’d been sent home early into the conclusion of the operation, leaving the higher ups to decide how to deal with the sour victory. it had been less than twelve hours since then and you doubted jenna spent a second of it resting.

the same could he said of the officer standing guard who looked like if he leaned against the wall for even a moment he would slump over.

“none.”

his gaze flicked briefly to you, then down. “is this...?”

it seemed that the leader of onichynus was very vocal with his demands. even without tara's penchant for information, it was now no wonder how everyone knew of your predicament.

you had taken care to clasp your arms behind your back but it seemed the damage was already done.

“the deal was confirmation enough, though at this point it’s all formality.” jenna is addressing you now. her lips turn as she observes the door as if she could see through it. perhaps feeling the aura was enough.

“this is late to mention but you don’t have to do this.”

tardy indeed given that she had already led you to the lion’s den. your face seems to display enough of that sentiment given her sigh.

“if this is true-“ if this man if truly your soulmate, goes unsaid. “then council will reassess the situation.”

the words taste asinine even when they don’t come from your mouth. it wasn’t as if your fate could twist their judgement. the man behind those doors has earned his sentence, it was too late to draw you into the equation.

besides, what would you even do with a criminal as a soulmate? this early in the game, you could cut your loses and actually prepare for a non-fated pairing.

what you did know was that nothing was going to change with one-half meeter of steel between you.

“well let’s see what’s behind door number three.”

jenna doesn’t comment on the joke, likely attributing it to nerves. but in truth, you were just as ready as everyone else to get this over with.

given you had not been present at the exact capture, the face of onichynus still a mystery to you. though this close, you couldn’t help but recall that feeling of the ominous gaze hanging over you. it was one of the few times you had placed the feeling out of your nightmares. the knowledge that it came from the individual fate had decided to pair you with may as well have been the jest of the century.

so yeah you want this over with so you could get the last laugh.

with Jenna’s assent, the officer clears the few steps needed to join his peers where after a short order, the final steel doors began to part.

jenna doesn’t move forward, so neither do you. though you can’t help the slight tense in your limbs as you prepare for ... what a fight or flight?

there was research, anecdotes and stories about the first gaze but you never really summed up what you thought your experience would be.

‘you’re beautiful’

you’d heard it so many times before. would it really be so different this time?

what you notice first is the bareness of the room, appearing as just that, an empty space. well not completely empty; for at its center was a man. one who someone took up every parameter while only being rooted in a single square.

UNICORNS holding measures were … questionable, leaving him in a simple chair with only what you imagined were handcuffs to keep him rooted. this man who nearly cleared an entire squadron. though you supposed an escape wouldn’t come easy for him.

him, who was not just a man, but the dangerous leader to an illegal organization chasing the aether core. a figure with ashen hair and vermillion eyes. a figure with ashen hair and vermillion eyes, likely deprived of rest since his capture, though he didn't give off the impression of losing any sleep over it. he also sported more than a few smudges of dark crimson, making him appear every bit as dangerous as his lore suggested.

you think you hear a sound of protest from jenna as you take a challenging step forward, but it falls on deaf ears as inquisitiveness wins out.

he certainly fit the bill of a criminal figure. yet as he sat there, chained to a simple chair, chest rising with each breath with that slight tilt of his lips. there was just something else that made it hard to believe that this could possibly be your soulmate, questionable choices aside.

the man seemed to take your silence as an invitation as he spoke first.

“you’re beautiful.”

and in that instance, all of the violence and ominousness bled away, leaving just a man tied to a chair with dark eyes looking up at you with expectation.

you don’t realize your lips are curling downward as your eyes flicker back to his hands which were pinned behind his back.

and with your next words you sealed your fate forever.

“sorry, I’m not into subs.”

[beaddie]

AMARANTHINE - Dr. STONE

sum☆: "ᵉˡᵉᵍᵃⁿᵗ! "𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙴 (adj.) undying, immortal, eternally beautifulIn which Stanley Snyder, Xeno Houston Wingfield, and (Y/N) Ambrose were trapped in an unexpected stone world that had been petrified 3,700 years before. However, they were 'infiltrated' by some foreign brats all of a sudden.Of course, they don't give up without a fight, do they?

warnings: all characters are 18+!!! violence. language. FICTION!! don't like it? scroll away!! first ever post on this app. english is not my first language, so ugh.(Dr. Stone x Reader)(Dr. STONE : New America City Arc) MANGA SPOILER

(CHAPTER 7)Z=155: Science is Elegant

"<Yes, indeed. sniping is the most elegant scientific way to do battle!>"

Xeno declared, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. He gestured with a flourish, emphasizing the word "elegant," as if dissecting the very concept of warfare. He continued, his voice a low, confident hum,

"<We avoid a messy confrontation, and eliminate the key target in short order. Thereby bringing an end to the war while incurring the fewest casualties.>" He leaned back in his chair, the picture of self-satisfaction.

Meanwhile, aboard the Perseus, Luna, clad in a stealth suit that blended seamlessly with the ship's interior, moved with practiced ease. Her mission: locate Dr. Taiju. She subtly activated her comms, sending a coded signal to Stanley, confirming her readiness to begin her investigation. The signal was a quick burst of static, almost imperceptible, but Stanley, perched high above in his sniper's nest, received it loud and clear.

Below, in the makeshift command center, Carlos watched the live feed from Luna's camera, his brow furrowed with concern.

"<Kuhhh! Of course Miss Luna snuck in no problem! The bad guys are probably head over heels for her,>" he exclaimed, the last part delivered with a nervous chuckle. He wasn't entirely sure about the "head over heels" part, but he knew Luna's beauty was a powerful weapon.

Max, standing beside Carlos, shared his anxiety. "<Kahhh! Curse that Stanley for exposing Miss Luna to danger like this!>" he growled, clenching his fist. He paced back and forth, his worry palpable.

"<But this sniping plan…>" Max muttered, glancing up at Stanley's distant position.

"<I wonder how long we'll be here…?>" Carlos finished, his eyes mirroring Max’s apprehension.

High above them, Stanley peered through the scope of his rifle, his focus laser-sharp. "<Which one is he? Which one is Dr. Taiju…?>" he murmured to himself, scanning the crowd below, searching for the telltale signs that would identify his target.

Back on the Perseus, Minami, her voice amplified by the ship's communication system, addressed the enemy forces, her tone a mix of defiance and diplomacy.

"And that's the gist of it! We're out to revive all of humanity! We were hoping to have your cooperation, of course," she announced, the message broadcasting across the airwaves.

"Obviously we won't surrender and serve under you, but…we're always open to a civilized discussion!!"

Inside the Perseus’s makeshift bridge, Ginro peeked through the doorway, a confused expression on his face. "Can the enemy even hear what you're saying?" he asked.

"Radio broadcast," Homura replied curtly, not bothering to look up from her own task.

"I figure it's worth putting out there, at least," Minami added, shrugging. "Though we don't know what sort of person Dr. Xeno really is."

Meanwhile, in the factory, (Y/n) leaned against the doorframe, her gaze fixed on Gen, who was performing some minor task nearby. Her stare was intense, unwavering, and Gen felt it like a physical weight.

'Ahh~….I should be happy that the lovely woman is staring at me,' Gen thought, sweat dripping down his temple, 'but I can't – she can clearly see right through me!!'

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his every movement betrayed his unease. He avoided (Y/n)'s gaze, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

Xeno, seated at his desk with headphones on, his back to the pair, spoke without turning around. "<Now dear, stop staring at Mr. Gen, he might already be dead if you continue to do so.>"

'Yes, please…!' Gen thought, sighing in relief as the oppressive gaze finally lifted.

"<I suppose…>" (Y/n) replied, closing her eyes briefly. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled through her mind. '<Tsk, an amateur magician, eh? You may fool Xeno with your pretend façade, but to me, you don't. And Luna? I have doubts about her. She can fool anybody, yes, but anyone can fool her easily too. Maybe they're going to trick her into something right now in exchange for information.>'

And just as (Y/n) suspected, a plan was indeed unfolding to deceive Luna.

"<Hello, again. Luna, was it? My name is Senku.>" Senku said, his voice smooth and confident. He extended a hand, unaware that he was unintentionally cutting off Luna's shocked expression. Luna was taken aback. Dr. Taiju, the science leader of the Kingdom of Science, was unexpectedly…charming?

'<This charming Senku is quite unsettling,>' Luna thought, her mind racing. '<He's probably gonna take his time to ask about Dr. Xeno in some roundabout way!>'

Kinro and Yuzuriha, standing nearby, exchanged nervous glances. 'He's playing it up,' they thought simultaneously, sweat dripping down their foreheads.

"<I need info on Xeno. Tell me everything you know. Now. Quickly.>" Senku’s sudden shift in demeanor, his charming facade dropping away to reveal a sharp, demanding edge, startled everyone.

Yuzuriha, Kinro, and Kirisame abruptly stood up, their faces etched with concern. "Senku!"

Senku, his attention now focused on Ryusui, who had just arrived with Francois, waved them off. "What? The interrogation was going well," he replied, crossing his arms.

Ryusui, however, had other ideas. He pulled Senku aside, explaining his strategy. "As we need the young lady to open her heart to us," he suggested, "please make use of Bar Francois." Francois, standing nearby, placed a hand on their chest and bowed, happily obliging.

"The trick to winning someone over is fulfilling their desire!" Ryusui declared.

"I do not know what Master Luna desires, but we can venture a guess," Francois suggested.

"Hmph, how about…the last thing that anyone'd say they hate…" Ryusui hinted.

"Ice cream!!" The word hung in the air, a beacon of sugary hope.

Inside the lab mobile, Senku quizzed Ryusui. "You got data to back that up?"

"Sure, my research as a desire specialist!" Ryusui replied confidently.

"It's true – I can't imagine there's much of an anti-ice cream faction out here," Minami added.

"You'd gotta be nuts to have anything against ice cream!" Yo exclaimed, his eyes glazing over as he daydreamed of frozen delights.

Senku launched into an explanation of the ice cream-making process, as he and Francois began preparing the treat. "The ingredients are exceedingly simple," he began. "Milk." He held up a carton. "Sugar." He displayed a bag. "And in place of gelatin…we'll use kudzu powder to achieve that smooth, velvety mouthfeel."

"Vanilla essence makes the difficulty skyrocket," Senku added.

"I remember, I had a hard time using it for Valentine's Day," Yuzuriha shared, a nostalgic smile gracing her lips.

"Since vanilla beans don't grow in the U.S., we gotta synthesize the flavor with science!" Senku explained, holding up a test tube and a copper wire. "Wrap copper wire around a test tube…stick a piece of iron inside…hook it up to our cellphone's high-voltage battery…and switch it on!!" Ginro stared at the setup, his eyes wide with fascination.

"Whoa, it's glowing purple!"

As the "ice cream making" proceeded inside the lab, Luna couldn't resist peeking through the window, her curiosity piqued.

'<What are they up to? Hm…?>' she wondered.

Inside, the ice cream production continued. "Stinks like a swimming pool!!" Minami complained, pinching her nose.

"Or like a photo-copier, I'd say," Ryusui added.

"That's ozone you're smelling," Senku confirmed.

"I thought we were trying to make ice cream?! Wanna get us back on track?!"

"Take bay laurel extract…boil it in our old friend sodium hydroxide…and infuse it with the ozone we just made…to get…vanilla essence!" Senku declared, combining the ozone and sodium hydroxide, producing a sweet-smelling mixture.

"Just like that?" Minami asked, incredulous.

"Smells…sweet!" Homura agreed, unable to resist the enticing aroma.

Senku then poured the mixture into a container filled with the other ingredients and placed it in a larger bowl of ice. "Stir well as the ingredients chill." As they sprinkled salt on the ice, Francois addressed Taiju, who was diligently stirring the container.

"Adding salt to the ice drops the temp a few dozen degrees," Senku explained.

Luna, still peering through the window, spotted Dr. Taiju. '<There's Dr. Taiju! I have to get near and point him out…!>' she thought, moving closer. Nikki intercepted her, blocking her path.

"<Not so fast. Since you're hurt, you better get some rest,>" Nikki suggested, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. She gave Luna a pointed look, subtly conveying that she wasn't buying Luna's act.

"<Th-thanks, I'm okay!>" Luna stammered, her agitation barely concealed. She tried to brush past Nikki, but Nikki stood firm.

A few minutes later, the ice cream-making process reached its culmination. Francois, with a flourish, poured the finished ice cream into a pre-chilled, icing-like container, then expertly swirled it onto a crisp cone. A triumphant announcement echoed through the lab:

SOFT-SERVING ICE CREAM, ACQUIRED!!

A buzz of excitement filled the air as everyone was offered a cone. Luna accepted hers hesitantly. As the first lick of the icy treat touched her tongue, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. The familiar sweetness, the creamy texture…it was a taste from a world lost. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of bittersweet memories and the simple pleasure of the ice cream.

After a moment, Luna, her voice still slightly choked with emotion, turned to Senku, who was perched on the lab mobile's roof, gazing up at the star-studded sky. "<That electric stuff…how'd you use it to make vanilla?!>" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Senku looked down at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "<There's always a workaround for whatever we're lacking. Humans have been persevering like that for two million years,>" he replied. He paused, then continued, his voice taking on a more passionate tone.

"<Getting to the root of the raw elements that make up this world of ours helps us create stuff we got no business having. That's the sweet side of organic chemistry.>"

Luna, still holding the half-eaten ice cream, looked at it thoughtfully. Senku’s words echoed in her mind. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she remembered her mission.

'<Nope, nuh-uh. I'm supposed to be into intellectual types! And Dr. Taiju is their science leader, right?!>' she thought, her resolve hardening.

She turned back to Senku, forcing a smile. "<J-job well done, with this! To borrow Xeno's favorite word, it's really…>" she paused, searching for the right word.

"<Elegant,>" Luna finished, Senku's eyes widening slightly.

The word hung in the air, charged with unspoken meaning. Senku stared at Luna, a look of stunned realization on his face.

"<Luna, is Dr. Xeno…a former NASA scientist?>" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Luna blinked, surprised by the question. "<How'd you know that…?>" she replied, unknowingly confirming Senku's suspicions.

A tense silence followed. Ryusui, who had been observing the exchange, looked at Senku expectantly. "Well? Who is he?"

Senku remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and revelation. "When I…started making rockets…Dr. Xeno was my science mentor." He placed his hands on his hips, his gaze fixed on the stars, the weight of the revelation settling upon him.