#pyrokinetic reader

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[runawrites-blog]

Shipping (Charles Xavier x Reader)

Summary: You're a teacher at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters and you're quite close to Charles -- so close that a few of the students have started speculating whether or not you two are actually a couple. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,646 Warnings: Very Minor Suggestive Themes. Light Angst. No Y/N. Reader has a last name that goes with her powers but it's only mentioned once or twice. A/N: As mentioned, the reader has a last name that correlates with her powers/mutation. Her name is Brandt (inspired by the German word Brand for fire) since she has pyrokinetic powers. But it's only mentioned once or twice by the students.

---

“You two are being ridiculous.”

“We’re not being ridiculous!” Jubilee defended herself, leaning over the back of the couch to throw Jean a joking glare. “Look at how cute they’re being!”

Jean gave Jubilee one more annoyed look before turning to where the other girl was pointing, her eyes falling on you and Charles at the other side of the large sitting room. She took the two of you in for a second; how Charles was looking back at you periodically with a bright smile on his face and how you were leaning over the back of his chair, a hand firmly planted on his shoulder as you looked at the files he was currently going over. She turned turned back to Jubilee and Ororo.

“See?” Ororo grinned a little and leaned back in the armchair. “Miss Brandt and the Professor are totally banging.”

“Ororo!” Jubilee exclaimed in disgust. “I wanted to prove to Jean that Miss Brandt and Professor Xavier are in love, not that they are sleeping with each other. As a matter of fact, I don’t want to hear anything about that!”

That’s when Scott piped up, raising an eyebrow at Jubilee. “To be fair, if they were dating, don’t you think they’d be sleeping with each other?”

“You two don’t have to make this gross.”

Jean quickly nodded at that. “I agree with Jubilee.”

“Really?”

“Not about the dating, but about Scott and Ororo being gross.” Jean leaned back on the couch, closing her book in her lap. “Just because they’re friendly doesn’t mean they’re dating, Jubilee. They’re probably just good friends.”

That’s when Kurt spoke up, a smile on his lips. “I think the idea of them being a couple is sweet. They seem like they would make a nice couple.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“I’m not entirely sure, though!” He quickly defended himself. “I just said it would be cute if they were together.”

Scott nodded. “I agree with that. They’d be a good couple but I agree with Jean on this one, I think. Just because they’re nice to each other, doesn’t mean they’re a couple.”

Jean nodded quickly and picked her book back up. “Now can you let me do my reading for Miss Brandt’s class? I don’t want to mess up on the test.”

“What test?”

“The test we’re taking next week about the Napoleonic Wars.” Jean explained off-handedly. “I’m currently reading the chapter in my History book and I would love for all of you to let me study.”

Kurt nodded at that. “I read the chapter yesterday and trust me, you should all start soon, as well. It’s a pretty long chapter. I could help you study if you want me to.”

“Thanks. I can’t really start now because lunch break is almost over, but I’ll take you up on that offer another time.” Scott said to Kurt before rising to his feet. “What class do we have now? Literature or Physics?”

“Literature.” Jubilee commented and grabbed her bag from the couch. “With none other than Miss Brandt, so maybe we can get some clues on her relationship with the Professor now!”

“You just want to find it out to prove you’re right, don’t you?”

“Exactly!”

All of them stopped when the clock struck two and everyone started to slowly leave the sitting room to get to class. Jubilee grinned a little as she watched Charles turn to you with a soft smile before placing his hand on top of yours for a few seconds. He gave it a short squeeze before he wheeled himself out from behind the desk and toward the door. Most days, the desks were used by students but Hank had asked Charles to review a file he had typed up and the telepath had asked you to look over it with him during lunch break.

You gave him one last smile before slinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing the two boxes of books you were going to use for your class. Jean watched from the doors, waiting for her friends to get her belongings, as you struggled to carry both of the boxes. But before she could offer her help Charles called out your name, making you look up from the boxes to face him. He was looking back at you with his arms outstretched, smiling softly.

“Let me help you, Darling.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and handed one of the boxes to him, watching as he placed it on his lap before he made his way to the door. “We’re starting with a new book today.”

“I can see that.” Charles laughed and leaned his head back to look at you. “Didn’t you once mention that you loved Mary Shelley’s writing? What a lovely concidence that one of her books is on the curriculum, isn’t it?”

A smile appeared on your face as you stopped in your tracks. “Did you put it on there? You get to decide between three books for each new chapter of the curriculum, don’t you? I think you’ve mentioned that once.”

“I might have.”

“You’re the sweetest, Charles.”

“For you, always.”

Not wanting to intrude, Jean quickly followed her friends out the sitting room and to her class, though now she was actually contemplating on how much truth there was to Jubilee’s suspiciouns about your relationship with Charles.

---

As the days passed, Jean started to believe in Jubilee’s suspicions more and more as she watched how you and Charles interacted. She had never really paid much attention to it but now she was questioning how she’d never before noticed your gentle smiles, sweet nicknames, casual touches and quiet conversations. But what really got Jean hooked on the idea of finding out about whether or not the rumours were true, was what happened one rainy Friday evening.

It was late and some of the younger students were already asleep while Jean was studying with Jubilee and Ororo. There was a slight drizzle going outside as they hunched over their History books and notes from class. They were pretty engulfed in their studying when the earthquake started, making everything in the room rattle and shake. Jubilee nearly fell off the bed but Jean caught her and Ororo clung to the headboard.

But fortunately, the earthquake quickly stopped and the three of them got off the bed to venture to the hallway to see what had happened -- though Jean was pretty sure it was the new student with geokenesis that must have accidentally started the erathquake. Just as they stepped into the hallway, along with a few others students, you and Charles did the same. And the three girls froze when they realised that both of you had come from his room.

Jubilee turned to give Jean a grin but she wasn’t even looking at her, too caught up in watching you hurry after Charles, smoothing out your hair while you made your way to the young boy’s room. Before you could even knock he opened the door and upon seeing Charles, grabbed onto the armrests of his chair, beginning to apologise profusely. Charles reacted in his usual gentle and comforting manner, calming the boy down and checking whether or not he was injured.

It took a few minutes to calm him down but eventually Charles had convinced him that everyone was fine and there was no need for him to feel guilty. And after a few checkups on the other students, Charles proclaimed that they should all get back to their rooms. Jean ushered Ororo and Jubilee back into her room. But once inside Ororo stopped her from closing the door, pointing at you and Charles in the hallway. Jubilee and Jean looked at each other for a second before leaning over to see what their friend was talking about.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked once the last door had closed, giving you a worried once over and reaching out to take your hand into his. “I saw you hit your head on the nigthstand when you fell off my bed. Are you hurt, Darling?”

“I’m fine.” You gave him a reassuring smile before gently cradling his hand in both of yours. “Shall we get back to your room?”

Charles shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cup yours. “May I check? I promise you I will only check if you’re alright. I wouldn’t want to overlook a possible concussion. You did hit the nightstand pretty hard.”

With a relenting smile you nodded and gave his hand a small squeeze. “If it makes you feel better you can.”

While Charles placed his fingers on his temple and you held his hand tightly, Jubilee gave Jean one more triumpanth smirk. Ororo was still staring at you and Charles, completely amazed by the fact that her and Jubilee had apparently been right. And Jean crossed her arms over her chest, still not fully convinced.

“I mean, I worry about my friends, too.” The rehead reasoned softly. “That time you got hurt during dodgeball, I checked you for a concussion, too.”

“They’re literally holding hands.”

Ororo turned and placed a finger over her lips as you and Charles began to move down the hallway back to his room, now that he had confirmed you were uninjured. The three girls watched as you two arrived at Charles’ door and you glanced down the hallway once more, checking if everyone was in their rooms. Then Charles used the controls of his wheelchair to back into his room while grabbing your hand and pulling you along. You gave a surprised laugh at that and Charles smirked charmingly. And then the two of you were gone and the door to his room once more closed.

“How is that not obviously them going to do something nasty now? He literally pulled her into his room.”

“You really overuse that word.”

“What word?”

“’Literally’.” Jean answered. “Maybe they’re going over something from class.”

“You just don’t want to be in the wrong.” Ororo laughed quietly as she looked up at Jean. “They both came from the Professor’s room, looking disheveled and in their nightwear. Just now he said she’d been on his bed with him when the quake started. And she went back to his room.”

“You’re right. That kind of proves you two right.”

“Kind of?”

---

Now that Jean agreed with Ororo and Jubilee, the girls had made it their mission to find out whether or not they were right. Scott was still not convinced and Kurt kept telling them that while you and Charles would make a sweet couple it was invasive to talk about their teachers like that. His complaints did not stop his friends.

As the next few days days went on, they kept looking for clues. Jubilee kept going on about how much you and Charles were casually touching while Ororo’s main focus was the fact that he kept calling you petnames to which Scott shut her down by telling her that their professor called everyone petnames – they had to agree with him on that one.

Then Thanksgiving break rolled along and most of the students left to visit home. That year Jean, Jubilee, Ororo, Kurt and Scott had all decided to stay behind at the mansion along with a handful of other students. And due to this decreased amount of students at the school, most teachers were leaving over the holidays, as well – safe for Hank, Charles and you. It was really the perfect time for the friends to find out if they were right with their suspicions.

It was on a cold autumn day that Ororo had decided they needed to keep an eye on you and Charles, mostly because she had noticed that you were most definitely wearing one of his favourite cardigans to ward off the chill. That gave them enough incentive to use the rest of the day to try to decide which of them was right once and for all. Eventually, evening rolled along and you and Charles hadn’t acted any different around each other than usual, so the friends gave up and headed back to their rooms. That was until a storm rolled in only an hour later, bringing with it cold winds and chilly rain, prompting the friends to go to the sitting room and warm up by the fire.

“I can’t believe you still don’t believe us.” Jean commented as she walked down the hallway toward the stairs so they could go down to the sitting area. “And would you hurry up so we can warm up by the fire? It’s so cold today.”

Scott shrugged at that. “I can’t believe they managed to convince you.”

“You didn’t see the way they interacted after the earthquake.” Ororo scoffed as she hurried after them. “She was literally coming out of his room, looking dishevelled and he talked about how she’d been in his bed. And then he kept calling her ‘darling’ and fussing over her before literally pulling her back into his room.”

“You use the word ‘literally’ too much.”

Jean chuckled at Scott’s comment. “I told her that, too.”

Jubilee shrugged a little. “That doesn’t mean she’s not right. She’s been wearing his cardian all day.”

“It’s cold.”

Kurt perked up at that. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Miss Brandt has been wearing the Professor’s cardigans for the whole week now.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“As I said, I think they might make a sweet couple.” Kurt commented before frowning a little. “But should we really be this invasive?”

“We should if it proves us right.” Ororo smirked.

“I just worry that this much snooping around will make them angry at us.” Kurt mumbled before looking at his telekenetic friend. “Also, Jean, why are we going to the sitting room? I’m pretty sure the fire went out hours ago.”

“I can fire it back up.”

Scott was the first to start and decent the stairs. But as soon as he got halfay down – and with that in eyesight of the sitting room – he stopped dead in his tracks, making Ororo collide with his back. She reared up to confront him about stopping but Scott put a finger to his lips and pointed at the open doors. Kurt leaned past Scott and quieted down immediately while Jubilee smacked her hand in front of her mouth to keep from making any sounds. Jean leaned forward and her mouth fell open.

At the end of the sitting room, by the fireplace sat none other than you and Charles, cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket. And the two of you were kissing. He was cupping your face, his fingers gently and lovingly stroking your face while yours were buried in his hair, tenderly raking over his scalp. Ororo turned to Scott and pointed a victorious finger at him but he was too busy watching as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa and Charles followed quickly to deepen the kiss, not wanting to part from it just yet.

Eventually, the two of you parted and Charles leaned his forehead against yours, earning himself a small smile and a chaste peck on his lips as you looked back at him. Your hands wandered down to the side of his face where you began to stroke his skin, making a smile appear on his face. He leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Feeling a bit warmer now, my love?” Charles said softly, a bright smile appearing on his lips as you nodded in agreement. “I did promise to warm you up.”

“And you did a wonderful job at that, sweetheart.” You said in amusement, hand sliding down his neck to rest on his shoulder. “I feel very warm and very loved thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Charles whispered, his smile faltering a little. “I do hate to see you cold and anxious about your memories, my darling. I know you’ve told me about your past many times but the thought of you being left out in the snow in an attempt to cure your pyrokinesis still upsets me terribly and makes me angry.”

“Don’t be, please.” You replied, leaning your forhead against his. “I’m here now and I’m safe. You make me feel safe, Sweetheart. Safe and warm.”

“That’s good.”

“You’re not cold either, are you?” You inquired in concern. “I know that you get cold easily and I also want to help you stay warm, especially since I pretty much stole all your cardigans.”

Charles laughed softly, obviously touched by your concern before pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “I’m fine, my love. It’s very warm in here and besides, I have you next to me to warm me up.”

“We could go upstairs and I could properly warm you up.”

“Later.” Charles promised before sitting back and stretching out his arm in invitation. “Stay by the fire with me a little longer, would you?”

“I’d love nothing more than that.”

With that, you leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss again but this time Charles didn’t reciprocate, instead pulling back and furrowing his brows. That got you to look up at him in concern, the hand you had placed on his shoulder tightening as you frowned.

“What’s wrong, Charles? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, love.” Charles said softly before his voice took on an amused tone. “But we’re not alone anymore.”

With that, he turned toward the door and subsequently the staircase, making you follow his gaze. The students froze where they were standing. While Kurt worried about you two being angry, Jean flushed at being spotted and Ororo gave a small wave. Scott looked away awkwardly and a wide grin spread across Jubilee’s face. But regardless of their reactions, all of them slowly made their way into the sitting room. By the time they were close by, you and Charles were sitting up straight again, turned so you could properly face the students. Charles looked pretty amused and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the situation.

“Now, my dears, how long have you been watching us?”

“We haven’t been watching you!” Kurt defended himself but quickly faltered as he realised that that wasn’t entirely true. “I mean, we sort of did but only for a few minutes.”

“We wanted to come into the sitting room to warm up and you two were sort of smooching on the sofa.” Ororo explained, waving at you and Charles on the couch.

“Smooching.” Scott snorted before shaking his head. “But they’re right. We’ve only been standing there for a minute or two.”

You shook your head in amusement, unable to keep a small laugh from escaping you as she watched their concerned faces. “Don’t worry now. You’re not in any trouble if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s a relief.” Jean said with a small smile. “We worried about that.”

“You two are such a sweet couple, Miss Brandt!” Jubilee suddenly exclaimed, smiling brightly at you and Charles. “And you look really happy together. It’s so good you’re finally together.”

“We are happy.” Charles confirmed, reaching out to take your hand into his. “But we have been in a relationship for a long time. Honestly, I was under the impression that it was fairly obvious.”

“At least we haven’t been keeping it a secret.” You threw in before shrugging. “But then again, we aren’t overly affectionate in the presence of our students. That would hardly be professional.”

“So you’ve been dating for a while now?”

“Yes, we’ve kept it professional but we haven’t been trying to keep it a secret.” Charles explained before nodding toward the fire. “Now, if you still want to warm up, you can find yourself a place to sit. The fire is shrinking now but I’m sure my lovely darling can stoke the flames a bit.”

At his words, you stood from the couch before walking over to the huge fireplace and using your powers to stoke the flames. Then you returned to your place next to Charles and leaned back against his side.

“So tell me, what have you kids been up to all day? I barely saw any students out and about today.” You mused as you looked around. “Where you in town or in your rooms?”

“We were in our rooms.” Scott explained, pulling his legs up onto the armchair. “We thought of going into town but--”

“But we got distracted arguing about whether or not you two were dating.” Jubilee joked, looking up at you from her spot on the carpet. “We were about to start a betting pool at this point.”

“A betting pool?” Charles laughed and shook his head. “Were you really that interested in whether or not we were a couple?”

“A lot of the other students were speculating, too.” Jean defended herself but relaxed when she saw you and Charles laughing at the situation. “The pool was Jubilee’s idea.”

Jubilee nodded in agreement before her eyes widened and she laughed. “You’re like the school’s parents now. X-Mom and X-Dad.”

“Interesting superhero names, for sure.” You chuckled and looked at Charles. “You can bet I will call you X-Dad from now on whenever you act parental.”

“Thank you for that, Jubilee.” Charles said in amusement, his arm pulling you closer as he looked back at you. “But while I don’t think you were being too invasive, I’d like to ask you all to respect our privacy. We want to keep everything professional.”

“Of course.” Jean nodded. “I’m sorry that we were so nosy and invasive.”

“There is no harm done, Jean. Everything’s alright.”

“I can’t believe you were right.” Scott joked. “I guess I was just oblivious.”

Ororo nodded and looked at Jean. “And you called us ridiculous.”

“I guess I got proven wrong.”

[songsofadelaide]

River Blue

tags and content warnings: SFF Company 8 Captain Akitaru Obi x (f) First Class Fire Soldier reader. Unspecified timeframes & flashbacks, + possible spoilers for the later part of the anime/manga. Reader is so down bad for Obi, but your feelings are eventually reciprocated. Tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of alcohol, and implied sexual content.

⚜ This fic will not use 'yn' and instead follow my usual naming convention. Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. I use "Otome" as a placeholder as it means maiden, or Maiden-chan, which pretty much translates to 'yn'. The name isn't mentioned often and is just for the sake of my preferences since I find it jarring to write 'yn' frequently.

wc: 4.1k

Asakusa's night skies were dotted with stars. 

It was a stark difference from the cloudy nights you always saw from your dorm window and the rooftop at your headquarters in Tokyo. 

"So pretty…" You marveled from the window of the ryokan you were staying in, the empty lacquered sakazuki in your hand reflecting the light of the celestial bodies in the jet-black sky. You donned the yukata the ryokan provided for you to complete the vibe of a vacation, but you were hardly enjoying drinking by yourself. It was a pity the rest of the company wasn't there, except for you— and one other. You were certain they would have enjoyed the short vacation. No alarms, no drills in the morning, no boisterous young men arguing over breakfast… All of which you were already starting to miss. 

You can't recall the last time you slept a full eight hours since you were assigned to the Special Fire Force Company 8. Yet no one apart from Lieutenant Hinawa wanted to admit how your lack of sleep affected your everyday routines, including your performance in missions. 

Company 8 was a refreshing start after having jumped ship from Company 2. Your former captain couldn't fathom your reason for leaving your current post and didn't make your transfer any easier. It was a hectic period of transition and apparent downgrading from Company 2's well-equipped Special Fire Base to the evidently run-down headquarters of the recently established company. There was also the fact that you had to be demoted from Lieutenant, your previous rank, to a First Class Fire Soldier. 

Many factors compounded your self-inflicted insomnia, including your transfer— as well as the fact that your parents managed to track your movement from within the Special Fire Force, no thanks to Captain Honda, no doubt. 

Many Third-generation pyrokinetics in your age cohort chose to enter the Training Academy once they've manifested their abilities, and you did the same simply to spite your family— a traditional age-old clan whose wealth and roots ran deep and long into the ancient Tokyo Empire. As such, your family was allies and partners with Haijima Heavy Industries. You weren't at all interested in playing the role your parents had in mind for you, let alone becoming an obedient daughter to mindless sycophants. To further rub salt in their wound, you ignored your parents' special request to the Special Fire Force to be assigned to Company 3 and instead applied to one where their reach would never find you. 

You enjoyed the renown that came with being part of the elite Company 2, but along with that came the exhaustion of expectations and having to keep up with appearances. 

There was also, of course, the truth of the entire matter: You were there simply to spite your parents and run away from your duties as their heir. Cleansing Infernals? Putting their souls to rest? They were merely tasks that had to be done, nothing more. That had always been the way you saw things. 

Until you met him, the "unpowered upstart" who formed a company from the ground up, with nothing but an old cathedral for a base and a handful of dedicated recruits for a team. Akitaru Obi walked the earth with a purpose in mind— And Captain Honda made your transfer hell because of your insanely blunt reason for wanting to leave your current company.

"All for a captain that's younger and more good-looking, is that it?!"  

The night sky in Asakusa sparkled like a black shawl dotted with countless, countless diamonds— all that twinkled as far as your eyes could see. They were reflected in your eyes, like bowls full of stars overflowing. The pallid moon, too, its silvery light spilling all over the quiet ancient city. 

"Still can't sleep?"

The voice of your captain startled you, something you still found so queer even after all the time you've spent with each other. 

There was a time Obi hated you, though. He despised your shallow reasoning and even threatened to dismiss your transfer, claiming he would miss out on welcoming recruits with better intentions in mind. When Hinawa told you his captain believed in the saying, "Intentions are at the core of everything we do in life", you found yourself circling back to your own motivations for entering the Special Fire Force— and why on earth did this person have the gall to question them?

Intentions? You couldn't help but scoff to yourself. Cleansing Infernals? Putting their souls to rest? They were merely tasks that had to be done, nothing more. But when Obi reprimanded you for brandishing your favorite weapon and even intimidated you into leaving the field of your first mission with Company 8, you realized that he was a man of integrity, someone who believed in the sanctity of life even if the person was already swallowed up whole by their flames.  

"They were once people, too, you know. They're the unfortunate ones— their flames just ate them up. But you, as a pyrokinetic, of all people, should know that. If you insist on bringing Company 2's bravado into my field and attempt to undermine my leadership, then you have no place here. Get back in the Matchbox, pack your things, and return to your previous company."

Gods, he was serious, you thought back then. And that simply added all the more to his desirability. To say that you took things more seriously after his lecture was an understatement. You underwent a total paradigm shift— from a woman with no intentions to purifying your intentions in every action. Naturally, your feelings for Obi changed along with your retrospection. That flirtatious and dangerous admiration you had for him was melted down and refined into a newfound respect— though it didn't mean you desired him any less.

But that's enough reminiscing. 

"Hello, Captain," you said over your shoulder, a small smile on your face as you turned your eyes to the night sky once more, eyeing the pale moon that hung above you. You placed your sakazuki on the windowside table, deciding you've had enough alcohol for the night. "Just… taking in the view. We rarely get such a starry night from headquarters, after all."

You felt Obi's figure slowly descend to sit right next to you by the sliding window. The seigaiha-printed yukata suited him. It was refreshing to see him in something other than your usual mandated jumpsuits and field gear. 

"I thought you'd be asleep by the time I got back, but it looks like you're still chasing daylight," he said. "Even though you're here on a vacation. To sleep."

You could smell the faint scent of alcohol on him as he sat rather close to you, your knees brushing against each other. 

"Did you leave Captain Shinmon to drink on his own?" You asked him with a laidback smile, the kind that drew out the same kind on his face. "You're here on a vacation, too, Captain, so I hope you didn't hold back for my sake."  

"It's fine. He said I could go. And I'm not drunk if that's what you're worried about. I'm not a big drinker, anyway." 

"Of course, you're not…" You replied softly, adjusting your knees to draw them to your chest. "You're Captain Obi, after all."

You knew you needed to sleep, but your heart was in hysterics because of how close he sat right next to you. Part of you worried that he could hear just how loud your heart was at that moment. 

"I wonder why we don't see a lot of stars from HQ," you mused in an attempt to divert your attention from your own nervousness. "I know there are always some auroras, but stars this bright are a whole different thing."

"Hmm," Obi mused right back, a strong hand on his chin as though in deep thought. "Must be because of the light pollution. After all, we're basically surrounded by the Tokyo skyline. Not to mention the Amaterasu, which is always working around the clock like a never-setting sun. "

"Huh. That makes sense," you nodded at him before eventually giving him playful yet soundless applause. "You're pretty smart, Captain."

"You're welcome," Obi chuckled as he playfully gestured back for you to settle down. "While we're here, I was wondering if you could answer a question of mine. Not even your former captain had an answer to this."

"Anything," you replied with a solemn nod, acknowledging the serious air that enveloped you. "As long as it's you."

"Nearly everyone from the Special Fire Force knows you're from an influential family. Company 8 really couldn't care less where you came from— you've seen the kind of people we are, right?" 

"Well… I'll answer this question only because it's you, Captain," you stated with a soft sigh of defeat before curling your lips into a coy smile. "I was a fairly quiet child. Obedient and always listened to my parents and elders. I always went to church with my mother and was even this close to becoming a sister, but only because everyone else around me thought it was a lovely idea. Believe it or not, I actually wanted to become a…"

It was clear that Obi was listening attentively and you were easily unnerved by the weight of his gaze on you. 

"You know what, I actually feel a bit sleepy now…" You told him as you feigned a stretch. 

"Oh, come on! Don't say that now that I'm so close to knowing you even more," he said in surprise, his broad shoulders sinking in disappointment. "I'll treat you to ramen if that'll make you feel any better about—"

"Say no more," you said with a soft clap and raised your hand to cut him off. "But I'm only teasing, Captain. I did say I'll answer your question. I guess you just… don't, ah… Must you stare at me so intensely?"

"Whaddya mean? I look at everyone this way."

"I suppose you're right," you sighed and shrugged in defeat. There was no shaking off his watchful eye— his concerned expression even more. You'd simply have to try your best not to melt. "I've always wanted to be a singer. But you know how children are always carried away by their parents' dreams for them. I was pulled in all sorts of directions. I was supposed to be the perfect child, the blameless heir, the hope of my family… Simply put, I got tired of my parents dictating my every action. You'd think a lady like me would get used to it in the long run, but I guess I'm just a rebel at heart. But also… I didn't like how my family's been reduced to this: they've been funding Haijima Industries without question."  

"Why not go home, then?" Obi asked, his eyes now lowered to your slightly trembling hands. 

"I can't go back. Not yet," you shook your head at him. "If I go back now, I'll never leave again. My family will make sure of it… And I'll be pulled further away from the truth of things. From what we've been investigating…"

You sensed his hesitation when he reached for your hands, his larger and stronger ones enveloping yours. It was meant to be a reassuring touch and reassured you it did. 

"And from you," you managed to say, lashes lowered as you watched him run his thumbs over your freezing knuckles. "Being pulled away from the company… and you… That's the last thing I want."

"I see."

"I mainly did all of that out of spite," you said with a small laugh. "But now… more than anything, I want to know the truth. About the extent of Haijima's reach, what they're after… And who's really pulling the strings."

"We'll find out," Obi said as he gently squeezed your hand. Another reassuring gesture, as though telling you, "We'll figure things out together".

"Thank you, Captain. I feel like it's been forever since I last spoke about my family. I can't say I miss them, but I… worry about them," you squeezed him right back. "I'm glad I got to talk about them with you."

"I'm happy to hear about them," he remarked with a soft chuckle as he watched you lace your fingers with his. "Can I ask you something unrelated this time?"

"Awfully curious, aren't we?" You smiled at him. "Anything, Captain."

"I can't count how many times you've said you liked me. The real question is why?"

"What the hell do you mean 'why?'" You broke into a small fit of laughter at his question. "I'm sure you've looked at yourself in the mirror before, Captain. Have you seen what you look like?"

He knew for a fact that he was physically fit, well-kept, and absolutely tidy. Though if it were only all about his looks— 

"Captain, you are the most gorgeous man I've ever laid eyes on. And it was such an honor to be berated by you. Not only are you good-looking, but you have conviction. I didn't have that at all. I didn't even have intentions! All I had back then was spite. But you beat it out of me and gave me purpose instead. How can I not like you? Like, how can I not like you even more than I did before?"

Oh.

Oh, gods. 

Why was he staring at you like that?

"I-I'm sorry! Th-That was way too forward of me!" You squeaked at him, raising your hands in defense and nearly scrambling away from him. "W-We should probably go to sleep now, C—"

Obi caught you by your wrist, his gaze just as intentional as before. "Don't you want to hear what I have to say about that? About you?" 

You sighed and settled down before nodding at him and giving him a playful sniffle. "I suppose a vacation is the perfect time to get rejected. That way I can just leave all of my sadness here in Asakusa before we head back to HQ…"

"You and I… We're not children anymore! I can give you a straight answer! I'm not rejecting you, either!" It was his turn to laugh this time. "This talk only proved how much you've grown as a Fire Soldier and person."

"All thanks to you, Captain…"

"Come on, you're giving yourself way too little credit," he shook his head at you. "Sure, I gave you a little pep talk, but a person can only change if they really want to— if they find the right reason to. All of that was you."

"I… suppose."

"More importantly… Aren't you wondering why I'm here in the first place?"

You tilted your head in confusion at his question. "Aren't you here on vacation, too, Captain? Or was Lieutenant Hinawa not joking when he said you were going to chaperone me?"

Obi laughed— low, mirthful, and hearty— the kind you'd hear when he'd seen something incredibly funny. The kind you'd hear when he was in deep amusement at whatever antics Shinra and Arthur got themselves into. It was sweet and carefree— tender, even. It was the kind of laughter reserved for those close to him. The kind that showed he was completely relaxed, his guard let down and all. 

"You're right. I'm entitled to my own vacation, you know. But here I am with you in Asakusa," he said as his laughter slowly settled down. "But you're a First Class Fire Soldier. You certainly don't need your Captain chaperoning you, right? Which means…"

You furrowed your brows at him in further confusion. "Which means…?"

"Think about it. Why I'm here with you. Why I left my drinking buddy early in hopes I'd still catch you awake."

???

Wait. 

"D-D-Did you actually want to s-spend time with m-me?!" You sputtered at him, fighting the urge to scramble away from him again. 

The sound of his laughter reverberated in your room. "You should see the look on your— Hey, are you crying?! I—" 

Oh. Why did you feel the urge to run away now that the object of your affection and devotion had finally turned your way? Because you didn't expect him to respond to your feelings? Let alone take you seriously? Or was it because you felt entirely undeserving of this?

You felt the corners of your eyes well up with tears, your lips quivering as he raised a careful hand to your face. 

"I didn't even say anything yet," Obi started, his knuckles tenderly wiping away the tears about to fall from your eyes. "You like me this much, huh?"

You could only nod at him, lips pursed to quell your trembling. 

"I don't want you thinking, 'What did I even do for him to like me back?'. It's such a pointless argument. All I want is for you to be incredibly thankful to yourself. Because you found better intentions. A purpose, too. We're going to unravel all these mysteries so you can return home. No, not for good, but for you to be able to tell your family that you're doing an excellent job as a Fire Soldier," he stated, his calloused hands gently cupping your face now. "And perhaps with a little more time, you can introduce me to them, too."

"Yes…" You managed to reply to him. "Of course. I'd love nothing more th-than to introduce you, C—"

He closed the distance between you in one swift movement, his lips warm over yours, the sweet, electric taste of sake lingering in your mouths— his flavor mixing with yours. The shine of the silver moon was the only thing illuminating your shared bedroom, which was only right since you were sure your embarrassment was painted prominently on your face. You coiled your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you. Your common sense hung by a thread now, but you realized how this also explained why there was only one futon. 

His strong hands sank into your waist and hoisted you up onto his lap, your kiss unrelenting until you felt the need to breathe in.

"I like you, Captain. I like you so m—" You managed to murmur in between your breaths— against his burning cheek— only for you to be cut off by yet another intentional kiss, the warmth of your gasps leaving trails of what seemed like small, gentle wildfires across his face. 

"You taste like alcohol. Then again, I'm sure I do, too…" He chuckled as you tried desperately to hide from him, burying your face in the crook of his neck to avoid his gaze. "Come on… Ain't it a bit too late for you to be embarrassed? Didn't you transfer to Company 8 because I was 'smoking hot'? I can still remember how pissed Captain Honda was when he informed me about your transfer request."

A muffled squeal left your lips and you burrowed into his neck even deeper, to which he replied with even more amused laughter. He gently coiled his arms around your waist, causing your yukata to fall slightly loose, baring a warm shoulder to him. 

"O-Oh!…"

"This is no good. You're supposed to be sleeping. That's the entire reason for this vacation," Obi stated as he leaned back to get a view of your sheepish face once more. There was a glint of danger and mischief in his deep brown eyes, but just enough for you to understand that you were perfectly safe with him. "It's a good thing I know just what we need for a good night's sleep."

You felt one hand reach up to your nape, the other slowly bunching the hem of your yukata in his fist. The weight of his stare was dense and provocative, the grin on his face… was permission for you to do with him whatever it was you wanted. 

So as he slowly unraveled the only layer of clothing you had on, so too did you as you carefully and self-consciously pulled away at his yukata. 

You had become someone Obi liked watching, especially when you started outgrowing your swaggering tendencies. It was like you put a spell on him and you were well aware of it now. You knew you had all of his attention from the way his eyes followed your every move. 

He didn't lie. It was the most restful night you've had in a long, long, while. 

Obi awoke to the sound of your gentle humming the morning after, cool hands running through his dark hair while you nestled right next to him under the warmed kakefuton. Neither of you had any idea what time it was, but it didn't matter. He could tell from the sound of your voice that you did have a gift for melodies. 

"You'd make a good songstress," he murmured, the tremor of his voice no longer surprising you. He caught your hand and pressed a kiss on your open palm, to which you replied with a soft sigh. 

"I didn't even sing anything yet," you replied as you scooted closer to him, meeting his open arms. You rested your head on his extended arm and ducked under his chin, breathing in the mellowness of his pulse. "Good morning."

"You can sleep some more," he said, his steady voice reverberating against you. You could only hum in assent, slowly closing your eyes as he gently patted your back to lull you to sleep. While it was hard to let go of the tiredness you cling onto, you slept peacefully through the early morning, too, arms and limbs tangled underneath the single kakefuton you now shared with your once-major crush. "I'll still be here when you wake up. And I still like you, if you're ever worried about that."

"Mm… I like you too, Captain. I like you… so, so much." 

You figured you could figure out what you two were after this restful sleep. 

Upon your return from your short vacation came a formal document from Lieutenant Hinawa, and he presented it to you as you had your quiet breakfast with the Captain in the mess hall. 

"When you're done eating, I'll need you two to fill out these forms," he stated as he handed you one of the sheets with a header in bold letters that read Workplace Relationship Disclosure Form.

"O-Oh," came your slightly startled reaction as you realized what it was. You placed down your utensils and read the information that had to be filled out. "Wh-What exactly do I write here?"

You peered at Obi's paperwork and found him filling out the form diligently, the word "girlfriend" written neatly next to your name. 

Girlfriend?

???

"S-So do I write 'boyfriend' here? Oh, my gosh…" You elbowed him before eventually burying your warm face in your hands. "M-More importantly, why does Lieutenant Hinawa know about this?!"

"Strange how someone so smart can also be equal parts stupid," your sharp-eyed superior stated in response to your mindless query. "Finish up with that form already."

"The lieutenant and everyone else arranged that vacation, you know," Obi whispered as he nudged you to pick up your pen again. "Even Shinra said we should get some sleep and sort things out." 

"Th-They know?!"

"What, like they don't know that you requested a transfer here because I was 'smokin—" He gave you a smug shrug as you bonked his biceps with your fists.

"You're not helping, Captain!"

"Oh, Captain Obi and Otome-san are back!" Came one excited voice from outside, which was followed in succession by running footsteps and apparent shoving, along with the usual insults of devil and stupid knight (!!!).

"Shinra! Arthur! Stop your arguing so we can all have breakfast!" Maki berated the young men, but beamed happily as she saw you and the Captain. She turned to you with a twinkle of wonder in her amethyst eyes. "Captain Obi! Welcome back! Oh, Otome-san! Y-You must tell us all about what happened in Asakusa! Did you and the Captain finally come to an understanding?!"

So they were all in it all along. Your feelings for your Captain were no secret, but how he felt about everything was…

Hinawa bonked the other girl with his clipboard as he motioned for everyone in the mess hall to settle down, for pity's sake (!). 

"Well, my dear girlfriend, better hurry up with your file and food if you wanna leave here alive," Obi chuckled as he gathered his plates and tray, silently gesturing for you to follow him to his office— if you could leave the mess hall alive. 

You were starting to miss Asakusa's pretty night skies, but you preferred this— the sound of alarms, drills in the early morning, boisterous young men arguing over breakfast, and everyone welcoming you home.

[poppitron360]

Nobody ever talks about how Leo didn’t use his powers AT ALL during the time between his mother’s death and coming to Camp Half-Blood. And what the implications of that are.

Like the moment it’s revealed to the reader is the first time in SEVEN YEARS that he’s tried to keep a sustained burn going. That kid was so afraid of his powers, that even when he was being bullied and abused in the foster homes, he didn’t try and stop them, even though he knew he had the power to, he couldn’t. He suppressed his powers for most of his childhood, and still only uses them in life or death, to help his friends.

I’m reading BoO rn, and we’ve just had a scene where Leo, Frank, Hazel, and Percy are fighting the Nikettes, and Leo only uses his fire as a last resort to save Hazel, even though the flames melted their enemy’s face off so easily. He tried everything in his power to stop them some other way until he was absolutely certain that it was the only thing he could do.

Imagine how powerful he would’ve been if he hadn’t tried to suppress them, and instead had had proper training and practice in wielding them. He is the first pyrokinetic demigod in nearly four centuries! Y’all say Percy is the most powerful demigod, and I agree, but imagine what Leo COULD’VE been if he wasn’t so afraid of what he’d become.

[lowkeyrobin]

Heyyyy, could you write a Morgie (Descendants) x villain reader that’s platonic? Something like the two of them pulling pranks or just being a mischievous duo, thank you <3

YESYESYESYESSSSSSS ; genuinley thank you for this omgomgomg literally so excited rn ; thank you for requesting!! hope you enjoy and I hope I did this justice!! ; also I rlly hope we see more of him in pt2/they release that shit quick because we did not see enough of the younger villains..

MORGIE LE FAY ; tricksters

summary ; you and morgie love to pull pranks on the AK's because you're villains, what else would you be doing? baking cupcakes?

warnings ; language, slight fictional violence, slight bullying

word count ; 262

masterlist

you LOVE playing pranks and being a little mischievous and chaotic with morgie

he's just that guy to do it with

plus he finds it funny, you do too

a lot of times, he'll scare people with his serpentine powers

he'll threaten to send snakes upon them, or spit at them considering his venom causes hallucinations and delusions

think the one girl from the sparrow academy in the umbrella academy iykyk

we don't know much about his powers so I'm making shit up if it wasn't obvious

if you have any powers, you're the same way, actually summoning them most the time if they're simple

anything like telekinesis, pyrokinetics, teleportation, etc, something that's at your fingertips

bringing out the big guns for a prank isn't fun

a lot of times you end up actually hurting people

minor injuries included!

but most the time it's actually an accident cause yall suck at communicating, mostly hurting each other

lots of buckets to the head and hallucinations given

you'll often sneak into the student kitchens to steal magical ingredients and sneak them into innocent people's food and drinks

entertaining show!

to say you saw ulinana turning into a flamingo beforehand was an understatement

you both decided to let it be cause you weren't gonna talk her out of it, plus it was funny as fuck

"morgie, grab the glitter!"

"which color??"

"whatever you want bridget to be covered in. no silver, white or pink. she can make it look good"

"okay. do you want the glue too?"

"yup"

dumping slime and glitter on people is funny trust

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello! Could I request some fluff for captain Obi please?

I was thinking about something that his crush does that makes him stop working? Like something cute he just exe.stopped working.

Thank you!

Word Count:753

Pairing: Captain Obi x Gn!Reader

A/n: Hello, thank you so much for requesting. Fire force is one of my favorites and there’s not enough content out there so thank you for this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always remember to Hydrate or Diedrate.

   Akitaru Obi is the kind of guy who speaks his mind no matter what, that’s what makes him a great captain. Only problem is there is one member of Company 8 that can render Obi speechless, Y/n. When they joined Company 8 everyone was just glad to have another crew member to help lighten the load on the small unit. No one ever expected that the nerdy 3rd generation would be able to break the great Captain Obi.

   It started out with small things, like Y/n offering to help out with cleaning up Obi’s office so his workout equipment wouldn’t get in the way of meetings, or Y/n offering to make dinner when everyone was exhausted from a hard day of dealing with infernals. Obi admired how much Y/n was willing to do in order to help everyone out, and that’s all he thought it was. What both Obi and Y/n failed to notice, but was quickly picked up by the less dense members of Company 8, was how there was a slight hint of favoritism aimed at the Pyrokinetic from the Captain.

  Obi had unintentionally started to put Y/n above the rest of the Squad. Not in large ways but more so checking in on them repeatedly after they took a hit during a call, or giving them extra breaks from paperwork when they make a comment about being bored. Maki and Hinawa had both noticed and tried to ask him about it, but Obi just brushed them off saying he was like that with everyone.

   This all went on for a few months, Obi being softer on Y/n and the others trying to get him to see it, hell even Arthur picked up on it. Eventually, It was ultimately Y/n who made him realize he had in fact been nicer to them and that he has a crush on them. It had been a quiet day, no calls to deal with Infernals and luckily the crew had managed to complete the mountain of paperwork that usually occupied the office space. After about an hour of Shinra and Arthur pestering the Lieutenant, Hinawa finally agreed to let everyone take the day to relax as long as they stayed alert for any potential calls.

   Taking advantage of the somewhat free day, Y/n decided to bake some cookies for the crew as a treat for all the hard work they had been doing. Y/n spent the first part of the day straightening the kitchen and making sure everything was ready for their day of baking. With everything clean they turned on the small radio, got the ingredients out and started baking. Lost in their own little world dancing around the kitchen while mixing the cookie dough, they failed to notice that the Captain had come into the room. Obi’s original plan was to get a quick snack and glass of water, he was not expecting to see Y/n dancing around the kitchen mixing bowl in hand while a song he recognized as being from before the Great Cataclysm played from the radio. The sight caused Obi to freeze in the doorway, completely entranced. 

    Having finished mixing the dough, Y/n turned to set the bowl on the counter, only to be startled by the sight of their Captain standing frozen in the doorway. Being slightly startled, but also concerned, Y/n spoke up. “Is there anything I can do for you, Captain?” They asked. 

    It took Obi a few seconds to process that Y/n had spoken to him, but as he was about to respond and dash away like nothing happened, the alarm sounded followed by the Lieutenant rushing by saying there was a call. Obi watched as Y/n sighed before quickly placing the bowl of cookie dough in the fridge turning to get ready for the call. Obi was still slightly frozen having realized watching Y/n be carefree was one of his new favorite things, and he only moved to respond to the call when Y/n moved to exit the kitchen and had brushed past him trying to get out.

   Obi shook his head, focusing on the job at hand, but not before deciding he was going to talk to them after this call and admit his feelings. Sure, he just figured them out himself, but with the way the world was any day could be they’re last so why not spend it with the ones you love.

[yanderes-galore]

Ooh since request are open can I please request yandere Hibana please from fire force who’s fallen for reader ( female or gn is fine with me ) hcs please and thank u 💗

I swear they made her entire character being a Tsundere which is a bit upsetting but... I'll try my best.

Yandere! Hibana Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Jealousy, Possessive/Protective behavior, Stalking, Violence, Threats, Sadism, Clingy behavior, Delusional behavior, Touchy behavior, Forced relationship.

I personally wish more was done for Hibana's character.

Upon her debut she was deceptive and sadistic, often showing arrogance towards those around her.

She even called herself a 'Princess'.

She's described as a cynic, often domineering and controlling towards those she deems under her.

She tends to focus on revenge as a goal and over time is shown to be protective of those she cares about.

Shinra helps Hibana become a better person, which makes her more friendly.

She tends to cover up the nice things she does and when it comes to romantic attraction... can be rather lewd?

Most of her character was dedicated to fawning over Shinra from what I've read.

So safe to say... being a yandere might not change much.

She's naturally worse before she meets Shinra... but I'd also say she's a handful afterwards too.

Before Shinra she's sadistic, deceptive, and more than willing to use her power to immobilize her obsession.

Afterwards she's mostly just persistent and clingy, often hating to leave your side.

She isn't the strongest pyrokinetic out there... yet she's got strength.

She often uses her beauty to charm others and may even be frustrated when it doesn't work on you.

You may not even want anything to do with her due to her personality and behavior.

She can be cruel.

Sometimes she even takes joy in the violence she inflicts.

Her most dangerous trait is her violence and persistence.

Hibana is entitled at times, often not giving up until she gets what she wants.

If we look at her debut personality, Hibana has no issues when it comes to kidnapping or even murder.

In fact, she'd love the control she has over her obsession.

To her, it's less about romance, and more about the fact she has you all to herself in her debut personality.

She loves to force you to your knees, completely powerless against her.

Would she harm you? Not with her flames.

She can be rough with you but doesn't intend to burn you.

She probably doesn't even need to use ropes or chains to keep you in place... but if she does, she'll keep you in her room.

She treats her obsession as a pet of sorts.

She praises you, smothers you in affection if you're good...

She doesn't hesitate to incinerate the gravel that dares to touch you.

You belong to only her.

You're worthy to only her.

She makes sure to prove that by burning those too close.

She's insistent with her kisses and praise, telling you that as long as you pay attention to her...

You'll be a good pet.

Her behavior calms down later on post Shinra battle.

Yet she's now clingy and lacks boundaries.

There's times her previous sadism will show up, but for the most part she tries to behave.

In the public eye, that is.

When she isn't being a violent domineering captain... she's still smothering.

She gives gifts, she hangs around you as you work...

Others tell her to leave, she never does.

She may even be one to stalk her obsession, always wanting to keep tabs on them.

Does she have work to do? Yes.

But you're so much more entertaining.

I can also see Hibana threatening those she feels are too close to you.

She's an infamous captain and many know what she's capable of.

Just because she's playing nice for you doesn't mean she's completely changed.

She only really cares about you, Shinra, and Iris.

Anyone else she doesn't mind threatening to burn.

She may try to play it off as subtle...

But knowing her, she probably means all of her threats.

She's intimidating to everyone around her.

Even her obsession at times due to how insistent she is.

She may even be delusional, choosing to nor view what she does as wrong.

Keeping you as a pet? Well it should be an honor.

She's pretty and cares for you!

Stop fighting her feelings!

Hibana's affection can also get rather... touchy.

She likes you in her lap and often holds you around the waist.

She tends to flirt with you in an attempt to make you fall for her....

Yet... of course... you only seem scared.

You're always going to be scared of her.

Hibana at first saw herself as a demon... It was how she had to survive in this world.

Even when she tries to change, she'll always be seen as a demon by you.

After all, she's willing to kidnap and kill for her love...

What's more demonic than that?

[awkward-walking-potato]

So about the gambit requests.

How about pyrokinetic!reader who when she feels strong emotions HEATS up, and obviously there's some strong emotions directed at Remy. So someway or another she always leaves after only being around him for a little while and he thinks she hates his guts. Big emotional breakthrough and she reveals the truth to him. They're like cuddling or something 😏 and she starts HEATING UP (not enough to like actually hurt someone but she always gets nervous that it will) so she tries to pull away, but he pulls her back and is all comforting and reassuring that she'd NEVER hurt him and it's all cute.

Sorry it's so long, I've never made a request before.

Thank you for if you decide to write it :).

Too hot to handle

The X-Mansion was quiet, the evening calm after a long day of training and missions. You and Remy had been spending more time together recently, much to your own surprise. The connection between you was undeniable, but there was one small problem: whenever you were around him, your emotions seemed to intensify, and with them, your pyrokinetic powers. It was like your body betrayed you, and you found yourself radiating heat every time your feelings for him grew stronger.

Tonight, you were curled up on the couch in the common room, trying to relax. Remy had joined you, sitting close but not too close, his casual demeanor masking his curiosity. You had been working hard to keep your emotions in check, but it was a constant struggle. You liked being near him, but the warmth that spread through you whenever he was around was becoming increasingly difficult to manage.

Remy looked over at you, his eyes softening with concern. “You alright, chérie? You look like you’re tryin’ to keep somethin’ under control.”

You forced a smile, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Yeah, just a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through your body, and you could feel the heat rising, despite your best efforts. You shifted slightly, trying to create some distance, but he seemed to sense your discomfort.

“You sure? You seem a bit—”

Before he could finish, you pulled away, standing up quickly. “I think I need to go. It’s been a long day, like I said.”

Remy’s brow furrowed as he watched you. “Hey, what’s goin’ on? You’ve been doin’ this a lot lately, pullin’ away and disappearin’.”

You paused, looking down, not meeting his gaze. You were afraid to reveal the truth. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were rejecting him personally. But the fear of accidentally hurting him with your powers made it difficult to stay close.

“I just... I don’t want to be a bother,” you said quietly, the words coming out almost like a confession. “It’s not you. It’s me. I just... I get so overwhelmed, and I don’t want to risk...”

Remy stood up, closing the distance between you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Don’t want to risk what?”

You took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “I heat up when I’m around you. When I get emotional, my powers flare up, and I’m afraid I might hurt someone, even accidentally.”

Remy’s eyes widened slightly as he processed what you were saying. “You think you’d hurt me?”

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve tried to keep my distance because I don’t want to hurt you.”

He stepped closer, gently placing his hands on your shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring. “Listen to me, chérie. I’d never let you hurt me. You don’t have to push me away. I can handle it.”

You looked up at him, the vulnerability in his eyes comforting. “But what if I can’t control it? What if—”

He interrupted you with a soft, firm shake of his head. “I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me. You’re always in control, even when you don’t feel like it. And if you get hot, we’ll deal with it together.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a comforting warmth. You tensed slightly as the heat within you began to rise, but he held you close, his presence grounding and calming.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth radiate from your body, but also feeling his steadying presence. It was as if his confidence in you was enough to help you control the heat, keeping it from becoming overwhelming.

“I’m sorry for all the times I’ve pulled away,” you murmured against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

Remy’s grip tightened slightly, his fingers gently stroking your back. “Ain’t no need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re here now. And if you need to heat up, that’s just a part of you I can handle.”

You smiled, the warmth between you feeling less like a threat and more like a shared connection. As you relaxed into his embrace, the heat gradually subsided, leaving you with a comforting sense of calm.

“I guess I just needed to hear that,” you admitted softly. “That you’re okay with it. With me.”

Remy’s voice was gentle, yet firm. “Of course, chérie. You’re a part of me now. All of you, even the hot parts.”

You both laughed softly, the tension melting away. In that moment, you felt a deep sense of relief, knowing that you didn’t have to hide your true self from him. As you cuddled together, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, with trust and understanding.

And as the night grew quieter, the heat between you transformed into something more soothing—a warmth that came from knowing you were loved and accepted just as you were.

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒

PAIRING: platonic!loki laufeyson x f!reader x platonic!bucky barnes

TAGS: fluff, prank war, mutant!reader, canon divergent, he/him pronouns for loki

A/N: one more lost selencgraphy fic that i came back and edited a bit :) just a little silly goofy fic with favs! happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: ~2k

masterlist || request box <3

You were growing tired of the repetitiveness of how the tower looked. Of course you were grateful for Tony providing you a place to live, but the interior design could use some touch-ups. However, when you ran the idea by the man himself you didn’t expect him to start on it immediately. “I know I told you I wanted to make some changes but maybe a little heads up next time?”

“If I remember the conversation correctly, I remember you said you wanted—no, needed this to happen, so I’m just doing what you asked me to,” he shrugged.

“I- Ugh, can you at least tell these guys to clear out for just a couple minutes, so I can grab some of my stuff,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

Tony quickly waved for the crew he hired to clear out for you. Entering your room, you grabbed some clothes, your laptop, a pillow and blanket and stuffed them into a small backpack. After making sure you had everything that you needed to get through the day while they worked, you headed out back past Tony into the main area of the floor. As you walked out, Loki was stepping out of the elevator. “What is this?”

“I talked to Tony about some things that I wanted to change about my side of the floor, and he decided to not procrastinate for the first time in his life,” you retorted, raising your voice slightly at the end of your sentence for Tony to hear. “Meaning that I gotta crash out here for the week, or until they’re done.”

He hummed in response and suddenly waved his hands. To your right, green light flashed over the couches as Loki conjured some of his stuff, some more pillows and blankets, and a movie projector. “Sleepover?!” you gasped.

“Sleepover,” Loki confirmed, a grin growing on both of your faces.

“I gotta invite, Bucky,” you say as you go to grab your phone, but he stops you.

“Already done, darling.”

Unfortunately, the sleepover couldn’t start until later that evening because it was still Friday meaning everyone still had work to do.

You, Loki, Bucky, and Wanda all were given second chances with your places on the team. Like Bucky, HYDRA had controlled you for decades, using your abilities to further push their agenda. They’d managed to get their hands on other mutants, but you were the only one with your kind of powers that HYDRA was able to get their hands on. A pyrokinetic.

To them, you were their purifier. The one who would “bring their goals to light.” Despite your differing abilities, the two of you were partners. Then you and the Winter Soldier were sent on a mission to take down Captain America and his associates.

Everything was going smoothly until your masks fell off mid-fight. Steve had recognized the both of you. Old friends from a time you were all taken from. Despite the brainwashing, Steve had triggered something in your brains that caused you both to become disoriented. When you regrouped with HYDRA, vague memories of your old life filled your mind. Despite their efforts to keep you under their control, you and the Soldier- Bucky were able to break free. Eventually you and Bucky found yourselves back with Steve and worked with the Avengers to try and atone for all the suffering HYDRA had made you cause. After months of work with the Dora Milaje, the Russian trigger words could no longer bring forth the Winter Soldier and Pyro.

A few years later, Thor returned to Earth along with his brother, Bruce, and a few thousand Asgardians in search of a new home. Thor had ensured the rest of the team that Loki was no longer the man they had met initially and that Thanos had compelled him to do all those things.

Like the ones before him, he was given a chance to atone for his previous actions with a place on the team. Eventually, you all were able to become comfortable amongst the rest of the Avengers. Steve had been one of your closest friends before HYDRA had taken you and Bucky so you tried to reconnect. Rebuilding that friendship after all these years was hard, but you all made it work. It took the rest of them a while before they warmed up to the new additions but soon enough, everyone came around. Living in one place helped with that a lot. Routines were built and stuck to. The Avengers had become a true family.

Of course, some were closer than others. You, Bucky, and Loki were the closest. The three of you became inseparable at some point. Tony was willing to let you and Loki live on the same floor in the tower, but called for at least a little separation. Bucky took the floor beneath yours and shared it with Steve. With the renovations to your part of the floor, the chaos that erupted when the three of you were together was about to get much worse.

A secluded sleepover with only the three of you was the least of the rest of the team’s worries. Most of the time, the separation between the three of you kept things pretty calm in the tower. Putting the God of Mischief, pyrokinetic, and super soldier together sounded like an amazing idea for missions, but in a normal setting? Utter mayhem.

At first, the pranks were contained between the three of you but later you learned that you all worked better together. 

Growing up with you both, Steve already had a taste of what you were capable of in terms of pranks. He also was very familiar with that look on your face when you were about to prank someone.

Finishing up your tasks for the week, you walked into the kitchen to grab a quick snack before brewing your devious plans. Walking in, Steve was busy at work making dinner. Looking up he noticed you enter and greeted you. As he looked at you, something worried him but decided to pay no mind to it at first. His first mistake.

“So what’s cooking, Stevie?’

Turning away from the stove, he turned to answer you as you took a seat across the counter island. “I,” he started, “am making spaghetti. Do not eat too much before dinner.”

You both let out a chuckle as he returned back to his pot. “So any plans for the weekend, Mr. America?”

“Hmm, nothing much. Probably gonna do the usual, you know. Hit the gym, maybe sketch a little.”

Finishing up the noodles and sauce, he placed them on the counter to let them sit before he called for dinner. You still hadn’t moved from your spot surprisingly. But instead of snacking on some fruit, you were now leaning back in your seat, eyes closed. Studying your face once again, a subtle look on your face caused worry to fill him once again, he just couldn’t pinpoint why. Unfortunately for him, you had been planning some pranks for the weekend. Noticing the lack of noise from the cook, you opened your eyes and were met with the blonde man staring at you. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just been a while since we’ve just been like this. Just us two hanging out.”

“Yeah…”

“You remember when Bucky had to go stay with his sisters for the day, leaving us stuck at my house.”

You hummed. “You cooked us spaghetti that day too.”

A silence fell between you two as you felt the nostalgia.

“Alrighty, we don’t want the food to get cold, why don’t you let the team know dinner’s ready?”

—

Not long after you left the kitchen to alert the team, you realized that going through the tower and letting everyone know one by one was going to take forever. “F.R.I.D.A.Y?” you called out.

“Yes, Y/N”

“Could you let everyone know that Steve is done cooking?”

“Of course.”

Before returning to the dining room, you decided to go back to your floor. As you exited the elevator Loki was exiting his room to meet with the rest of the team. “Darling,” he greeted.

A smile grew on your face. “Good, you’re still here. I got some ideas that I want to run by you.”

The two of you finally joined the rest of the team in the dining room a few minutes later. Unfortunately for you, Bucky had already begun eating. You tried to catch Bucky’s attention, but he was too busy trying to stuff his mouth. Luckily for you, your trio consisted of a god who could read minds and communicate telepathically. Turning to Loki, you subtly pointed to your head to signal him to read your mind. He quickly caught on and his voice appeared in your head.

What is it, darling?

I wanted to tell Buck the plan, but he’s already eating... Could you do it for me?

Loki’s abilities always came in handy whenever you wanted to do something like this. Unbeknownst to everyone else, you could have full blown scheming sessions or just conversations. He lightly nodded as you both continued to grab your food. The three of you have done this so many times that Loki randomly popping into your heads didn’t startle you anymore. After a minute, you noticed a faint smile on Bucky’s face. Suddenly Loki’s voice popped into your head again.

He told me to tell you, and I quote, “You are a fucking genius, doll.”

You slightly smirked as you ate. The rest of the team has no idea what’s about to hit them in the next few days.

—

“WHAT IN THE FUCK?”

The weekend had already begun and everyone was doing their own thing. Steve, of course, was doing his normal routines as usual. Luckily for you, you knew that schedule by heart and so did Bucky. You both snuck into the gym just before he got in and set everything up. Hearing Steve’s shout signaled that your plans were more than successful. Everyone who was still in the tower ran over to the gym to see what was going on, Tony arriving first. “Woahhh Cap, what’s with the lang- HOLY SHIT-”

As everyone piled into the gym, they were all met with Steve drenched in water and covered in flour. No one could keep themselves from laughing. Tony looked up to the ceiling where two buckets were placed, both tilted over after releasing their contents. “Looks like someone set you up, Cap,” he said through broken chuckles.

Steve thought for a moment before slowly turning his gaze to two people in the room. You and Bucky. “You two-”

“What?” you asked, raising your hands to emphasize your innocence.

“Don’t ‘What?’ me, Y/L/N. I knew you were up to something.”

You turned to Bucky, a face of guilt and slight fear on both of your faces to Steve’s rage. “Run?” he whispered.

“Run,” you confirmed. As the two of you bolted out of the gym, Steve chased quickly behind you. “I fucking hate you two!”

As you both rounded the corner to the kitchen, you passed Loki who hid behind the wall of the open door. Once you two cleared the doorway he quickly poured oil onto the floor. Suddenly, Steve came flying into the room. Literally. As the rest of the Avengers caught up with you all at the sound of Steve crashing, Tony couldn’t help but double over and die of laughter. “Oh my god!! F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, sir?”

“The security cameras got that, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“PERFECT!”

As Steve gathered himself, he let out a groan. “Why do I always have to end up at the other end of your pranks?”

“Because that’s how it’s always been, Stevie,” you remarked as you patted his shoulder and left the room.

Before Bucky left the room behind you, he whispered to Tony, “Please send me that footage.”

Steve, with his super hearing, still caught it though. “DO NOT SEND HIM THAT FOOTAGE!”

[bookwyrminspiration]

Transcript of The Trade, the Marella KOTLC short story (Including the author introduction)

Note: OG pictures taken by Kenna!, provided by @fintan-pyren. Some words are obscured and the transcript may contain errors. Neverless, I hope this is useful to anyone who may need/want it :)

Hello, wonderful Keeper readers! Some of you might already know that I love to sneak a little something extra into the paperback versions of my books whenever I can (since I don't think hardcover readers should get to be the only ones who sometimes find fun bonuses). For those who didn't know that: surprise! :)

I knew I wanted to include a story from Marella's POV this time. Not only is she on the cover (looking fierce and fabulous!) and a fan-favorite character, but she also had some key scenes in Stellarlune that we only got to "hear" about. The Keeper books are limited to Sophie's POV, so I can only include moments where Sophie is present--and since Sophie didn't go with Marella to her meetings with Fintan, we only learn what Marella tells Sophie later. But what if there was something Marella didn't share?

Over the next few pages, you can watch one of Marella's conversations with Fintan play out in real time and hear all Marella's thoughts and reactions to what's happening. I've called this story "The Trade"--and I've worked in lots of fun little extra details (some of which might even turn out to be important later...*wink*).

For those wondering, this story is based a [sic] scene in chapter 31 of Stellarlune--and if you haven't read Stellarlune yet: SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! Reading this first will probably be confusing and will also give away a few tidbits too early. You'll be much happier if you start by reading Stellarlune and then come back here for all the Marella fun once you're done!

Happy reading! [shannon's signature]

~

"Ugh, I hate this place," Marella muttered, shaking the freshly fallen snowflakes out of her gilded blond hair much harder than necessary and yanking her thick velvet cape tighter around her narrow shoulders.

She said the same thing every time she had to trudge through the knee-high snowdrifts and found herself staring at the icicle-crusted entrance to the now familiar cave.

Didn't matter how many times she'd gone there--or how important her visits were. She was never not going to dread making the long, slippery trek down to Fintan's frozen cell.

The cave looked like some sort of open-mouthed snow beast waiting to devour everything in its path--which was probably intentional, since the prison was designed to be as miserable as possible.

Especially for someone like her.

The goblin guards even gave her pitying stares as they moved aside to reveal the endless icy path that wound down and down--and down a whole lot more--to a place where the tiniest glimmer of heat had long since been swallowed up by the suffocating cold.

No amount of clothing could keep Marella warm in the heart of the prison She'd actually tried wearing so many layers that she'd looked like an overstuffed gulon--and she still couldn't stop shivering. And the whole "body temperature regulation" thing wasn't exactly possible when she had to use so much concentration to make sense of Fintan's ranting.

it wasn't fair.

Everyone else got to train their special abilities in fancy rooms at Foxfire, with Mentors who weren't creepy, unstable murderers.

But they weren't Pyrokinetics.

Marella was lucky the Council was letting her use her ability at all.

They could just as easily label her Talentless, kick her out of their snobby academy, and ban her from ever sparking another flame.

Or they could decide she was too dangerous and lock her away.

in fact, Marella wouldn't have been surprised at all if the Council was already building an icy cage just for her--but the thought still made her shiver and wish she could've manifested as...

Nope.

She stopped herself from finishing that sentence.

If life had taught her anything, it was that there's no point wanting things that were never going to happen.

Instead, she focused on the thin beams of sunlight streaking through a gap in the gloomy gray clouds. The light was far from warm, but if she really concentrated, she could feel a hint of lingering heat tangled among the brightness.

She called the warmth closer and soaked it in--let it pool under her skin, pounding with her pulse, swelling with every heartbeat. Growing hotter and hotter and hotter until...

Snap!

A flick of her fingers sent a small tangle of flames sparking to life above her left palm.

"Feel better?" Linh asked as Marella let out a long, slow sigh.

Marella nodded--though she definitely could've done without the whispered that were now hissing around her head.

The flames had a soft, crackly voice. And they always made the same plea.

Feed me.

Feed me.

Feed me.

Fire craved fuel--constantly wanting more, more, more--and it would've been so easy for Marella to let the fire swell bigger and bigger and bigger.

But that was the kind of thing that would lead to a lifetime of shivering in an underground ice cube, so she forced her gaze to shift to Linh, who stood in a small, snowless circle surrounded by a halo of hovering snowflakes---none daring to touch her long silver-tipped hair or shimmery purple cape.

Marella knew how hard Linh had fought to achieve that level of control, and how tentative Linh's hold over her ability still was. But the fact Linh could stand in a sea of frozen water and do nothing except keep the falling snow from settling on her flushed pink cheeks was very...

Annoying.

Then again, everyone annoyed Marella a little.

Her dad used to call her "fiery" long before he realized how accurate that description truly was.

But it wasn't Marella's fault!

People tended to be annoying.

Especially a Hydrokinetic who was currently looking all peaceful and pretty and perfect while making snowflakes flutter and spin in intricate patterns.

That didn't mean Marella wasn't also grateful that Linh was willing to tag along to her Pyrokinetic lessons. it was nice to see a friendly face after hours of Fintan's rambling. Plus, it seemed like a good idea to have someone with water powers around while she practiced setting things on fire.

They were even finding some pretty cool ways to work together. Fire and water might be opposites--but that didn't mean they couldn't be combined. Marella had actually figured out a way to ignite Linh's rain, and she couldn't wait to use that little trick on the Neverseen--assuming those black-cloaked losers ever showed up again.

For a fearsome, unstoppable rebellion, they sure spend a lot of time hiding.

"Are you going to start by asking him about the cache or do the lesson first?" Linh asked, reminding Marella why they were there.

Marella shrugged. "Depends on Fintan's mood."

Sometimes he was already babbling about some fancy new fire trick when she arrived, as if he'd started the lesson without bothering to wait for her. Other times she couldn't get anywhere with him until she'd let him go on and on and on about how foolish the Council was, or how badly he'd been wronged, or how much he missed the feel of a flickering flame--and she didn't necessarily blame him for the last one.

Part of her wanted to hold on to her fireball forever.

Make it her smoky little pet.

Instead, she curled her fingers into a fist and snuffed it out--but she didn't let all the heat dissipate. She called a single tingling glint deeper, letting it sear through her veins and settle into her heart.

She knew it was a risky move, even with all the defenses she wrapped around it. But she couldn't bear the cold emptiness of Fintan's prison without a least a tiny fleck of warmth tucked away.

A secret spark whispering, I'm here. You're not alone.

"Okay," she said, weaving a few strands of her hair together to clam her twitchy fingers. She'd picked up the nervous habit years ago--after her mom's accident--and the tiny braids were kind of her trademark now. "i guess I should stop stalling and head down to deal with Sir Creepysparks, huh?"

Linh smiled. "Probably. Unless you want to rehearse what you're going to say."

"Nah. I'm just going to offer him an ugly flower--that doesn't exactly need a big speech. Oh, but that reminds me..."

She reached into her cape pocket and pulled out the spiky dark blue Noxflare--which looked more like a dying weed than a super-rare flower--and held it up to the guards. "Mr. Forkle already checked this before I brought it here, to make sure it's safe for me to offer to Fintan. but I figured you'd want to check it too."

"We do," they agreed in unison as one of the biggest, deadliest-looking guards took the Noxflare from Marella and brought it over to the other goblins.

A lot of mumbling about potential kindling and fire hazards followed.

Eventually, the guards decided to quick-freeze the Noxflare into a block of ice in case there was any heat stored inside.

"Whoa," Marella said when the scary guard returned with the flower-filled ice cube--which had turned out as big as her head. "How heavy is that thing?"

The guard studied Marella's skinny arms. "I can carry it for you if you'd like."

"That's probably be smart." Marella was pretty sure she'd drop it, or her fingers would freeze off during the long walk--and using telekinesis would drain her mental energy. "But can you stay out of sight? I was planning to tell Fintan he can only see his weird flower thing if he gives me access to his memories, and that's kinda ruined if there's a giant goblin holding it right next to me.

Not that it made the plan any less pointless.

Fintan was obviously going to turn her down.

He's already made it super clear that the only trade he was interested in was for his freedom--which was never going to happen.

Marella doubted a dying flower frozen in ice was suddenly going to make him be like, You know what? Who needs out of this horrible prison when I can have that!

But she was out of other ideas.

And Sophie wanted her to try the Noxflare thing, so...

Whatever.

Marella didn't care about Sophie's current power trip the way Stina did.

As long as she didn't have to be the one coming up with all the plans--or almost dying all the time--Marella was fine following orders. Especially if she got to say I told you so when they turned out to be a huge waste of time.

"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" Linh asked as Marella pulled thick gloves onto her hands. "Fintan likes me."

Marella wasn't sure if "like" was the right word, since Fintan didn't seem to like anybody. But he'd definitely been impressed with Linh.

He'd demanded to speak with "the Hydrokinetic" after Marella mentioned she practiced her pyrokinesis with Linh, so Marella had convinced the goblin guards to let Linh down into the prison. And when Fintan asked for a demonstration of Linh's ability to ensure she wouldn't "hinder his training," Linh had stirred up all the ice shards on his floor and made them rain around him like he was trapped inside a snow globe--which actually made him applaud.

Apparently, most Hydrokinetics struggled to manipulate water in its solid form, and were limited to liquid water or water vapor.

But not Linh.

Of course.

Marella was pretty sure that Linh was more powerful than any of her other friends.

"Well, if you need me, you know where to find me," Linh said as Marella forced her feet to carry her into the cave. "I'll just be here, making another snow menagerie." She flicker her wrist and wove the hovering snowflakes into a soaring alenon.

"Ugh, at least make some ugly creatures this time," Marella called over her shoulder. "I want to see a row of snow ghouls when I get back here. Or a giant Princess Purryfins!"

Linh gasped. "Princess Purryfins is not ugly! I'm going to tell her you said that!"

Marella laughed. "I'm sure you will."

She would've teased Linh more about her ridiculous obsession with her pet murcat, but the frigid air from the prison hit Marella hard, and she had to lock her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

As least she didn't have to make the journey by herself this time.

Marella could hear the scary goblin guard keeping pace several steps behind her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim blue light cast by a series of glowing spheres dangling from the ceiling. The downward slope grew steeper with each winding curve, and Marella was always tempted to try sliding down the icy floor instead of walking--but she'd probably end up crashing into one of the weird ice thrones outside Fintan's cell. And she knew better than anyone that injuries couldn't always be healed.

Plus, the trudge gave her a chance to add extra defenses to the heat she'd tucked away in her chest.

She often wondered if Fintan had hidden a few sparks of his own when he was arrested. After all, he had to know the Council would put him on ice for the rest of eternity. Wouldn't he try to preserve what little heat he could?

But Marella had stretched out her senses a zillion different ways and never felt the slightest tingle of warmth when she was around him. So either there was nothing to find or Fintan was that good.

She had a horrible feeling it was the latter, and he was waiting for just the right moment to reveal his grand plan--but that wasn't the kind of thing she should be thinking about before having to face him.

Still, she spent the next few turn trying to figure out what she'd do if she were right.

Her feet turned numb while she plotted, and her bones were officially aching by the time the path widened-- the only warning that they were getting close to Fintan's cell.

A few curves later, his cage came into view: a stark, icy bubble in the center of a circular cavern.

The round wall was reflective on the inside, so even though Marella could see Fintan pacing along the edge of his frozen barricade, he wouldn't be able to see her until she triggered the sensor by sitting in one of the freezing thrones positioned at the only point Fintan could peer through.

He looked extra tired that day--his sky blue eyes sunken by more shadows than usual, and he kept muttering under his breath about incompetence as he tucked his messy blond hair behind his pointy ears with a bit more force than necessary.

Marella glanced back at the scary guard, making sure he'd ducked into the shadows near the back of the cell before she made her big appearance. Then she took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her heart, reaching for her secret spark of warmth one last time before plopping into the closest ice throne.

"Awwwww, looks like you missed me," she said, tossing back her hair and flashing her brightest smile.

She liked to start her visits by showing Fintan she wasn't afraid of him--even if she totally was.

But Fintan didn't glance her way.

"I'm not in the mood for games," he warned as he continued his slow march around his cell.

"Neither am I" Marella assured him, deciding that was her cue to start with the cache. She sat up taller, trying to look extra confident as she added, "But I do have an awesome trade to offer you!"

Fintan sighed. "If this is about my cache, I already told you what I'm willing to accept. Unless you're here to grant me a day of freedom--"

"I'm definitely not. But! I found something you should like even better." She paused, hoping the extra bit of anticipation would somehow make her offer should more exiting when she told him. "Noxflares!"

Fintan scrunched his slender nose. "What are Noxflares, and why would I care about them?"

Marella tilted her head, trying to tell if he was faking.

She hadn't expected him to jump around or applaud or anything--but she had expected him to at least know what Noxflares were.

Then again, his mind had been shattered and pieced back together so many times, his memories had to be in shambles--and Ancient minds tended to be a total mess anyway, since they were crammed with thousands of years of information and the past and present blurred together.

"Would it help if I told you I stopped by your old estate on my way here?" she asked, "Your garden could use some gnomish help, by the way. All the plants have turned into a giant dying tangle. But I dug around and managed to find this scraggly vine with dark pointy flowers--and I hear that plant is special to you, so I picked a few and--"

"You picked my Noxflares?" Fintan snapped, rushing to the wall of his cell and pressing his palms against the ice. "You must let me see them!"

Marella's lips curled into a huge smirk. "I thought you didn't know what they were."

Fintan gritted his teeth so hard, it sounded like cracking ice.

"Hey, I'm not saying I won't share. Buuuuuuuuuuut it'll cost you--and I'm pretty sure you can already guess what I want." She paused for another beat before she added, "Just so we're clear: I'll show you one of your Noxflares if you open your cache and show me what's inside."

Fintan's jaw tightened even more and his hands curled into fists.

But he didn't say no.

He didn't say anything--which was definitely new.

Marella had already offered him a long list of trade suggestions that she, Linh, Maruca, and Stina had all come up with--some really cool ones! And Fintan had shot down each one down before she could even finish the offer.

She couldn't believe he looked so tempted by an ugly flower.

but as the silence dragged on, Marella started to wonder if she'd misread the situation.

maybe she'd pushed him too hard--taunted him too much--and now Fintan was letting her sit there in the cold, knowing the icy throne was turning her butt and legs numb.

She was trying to decide if she could make standing up look like a power move when Fintan told her, "Fine. You have a deal--but since you're only offering one Noxflare, I'll only show you one memory."

Marella barely stopped herself from blurting out, SERIOUSLY?

"Orrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she said instead, wanting to kick herself for not bringing more Noxflares with her. The whole thing had just seemed so silly--and the first few she'd picked had crumbled to dust. But the vine had lots more flowers, so she could fix the mistake super easily. "How about I go back, grab eight more Noxflares, and then you show me all nine memories?"

Fintan grinned. "Tempting. But one Noxflare is really all I need."

Need?

Marella wasn't a fan of that wording.

But before she could ask him what he needed it for, he added, "My offer expires in ten seconds," and started counting down.

By "six" she decided that one memory was better than nothing.

"Fine," she said, pulling the cache from her pocket and holding the marble-size orb up to the light. "But you go first. How do I open this thing?"

No way was she going to risk letting him back out--especially since he probably wasn't going to be happy when he saw his precious flower was stuck in the middle of a giant ice cube.

Fintan held out his hand. "Give me the cache, and I'll open it."

Marella laughed. "Hard pass."

"Ah, but you don't have a choice. I'm the only one who can access the memories. And I need to make physical contact with the cache in order to do so."

Marella squinted at the tiny gadget.

She didn't know much about caches--aside from the fact that only Councillors used them and that each colorful inner crystal held a single Forgotten Secret. But she did know that Dex had already tried everything he could think of to open the cache and failed--and he was one of the best Technopaths ever.

"Do I need to start counting down again?" Fintan asked. "I believe we'd gotten to five..."

Marella chewed her lip. "Uh, how do I know you're not going to destroy the cache or try to hold it for ransom or something?"

Fintan's smile was colder than his cell. "You'll just have to trust me."

"Yeah, I don't see that happening."

Fintan shrugged. "Then our deal is off."

Marella rolled her eyes. "Come on. Even if I wanted to, it's not like I can open your cell door and hand the cache to you."

She wasn't even sure if his cell had a door. The wall looked like one big solid piece of ice.

"You've proven to be very resourceful during our lessons," Fintan reminded her.

"Yeah, but--"

"It's your call," he interrupted. "If you want a memory, you'll have to trust me."

She snort-laughed--but before she could get another word out, he repeated, "You'll just have to trust me." And she could tell that was the only response he was going to give.

She turned to the scary guard, who had started pacing in the shadows. "Is there a way to pass Fintan a small item?"

"Ah, you have a hidden goblin escort--I knew you were resourceful!" Fintan clapped his hands. "And yes, there is a way to pass me my cache, otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it. Any guard can open the disgraceful tube they pass my horrid, frozen bits of food through. The cache should fit nicely."

The guard gripped his sword. "I cannot allow any unauthorized item to enter his cell."

Fintan clicked his tongue. "Clearly you're not considering the fact that I've already had plenty of chances to make this trade--and turned them all down. Do you think I would do that if the cache was even remotely useful to me?"

The goblin couldn't argue with that logic.

Neither could Marella.

And when Fintan went back to counting down, she told the guard, "The Black Swan knows I've been trying to make this trade--and they're working with the Council now. No one would let me do this if they thought the cache was dangerous."

Then again, they'd never discussed the possibility of handing the cache over to Fintan--but surely someone must've considered that during all their endless talking and obsessive overplanning...right?

Besides, if anything went wrong, she could always remind them that this was Sophie's idea.

"I don't like this," the scary guard growled. But Marella gave him her I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing glare until he set the frozen Noxflare down with a particularly dramatic thud, snatched the cache, and spent an eternity squinting at the tiny crystal, spinning it all different ways. "If anything happens, my priority will be subduing the prisoner--not protecting you. Are you certain you want to take that risk?"

Marella absolutely wasn't.

But...this might be their only shot at seeing one of Fintan's Forgotten Secrets.

Plus, she had her tiny little spark buddy she could call on if she needed. Surely she could use that to...

To what?

Take down a superpowerful, much more experienced Pyrokinetic with a history of murdering poeple?

But...did she really want to wimp out?

Sophie wouldn't.

And yeah, Sophie had, like, a permanent bed in the Healing Center. But Marella was pretty sure their whole group would vote "DO IT!"

There were also a dozen other armed goblins who would rush down as backup.

And Linh could attack Fintan with her cutesy snow animals.

It'd almost be worth it to watch Fintan get swallowed up by an ice wave shaped like Princess Purryfins.

"I can handle myself," she decided, using a tone that hopefully sounded intimidating.

Fintan's gleeful laughter echoed of the ice.

The scary guard muttered something about the arrogance of elves as he reached toward the top of Fintan's frozen cell and felt around for a specific spot. A faint clicking sound followed, and a tiny round door slid open--far out of Fintan's reach.

"I can neutralize you within seconds," the guard reminded him as he held the cache up to the opening. "By numerous means. Some far more painful than others."

"Yes, I'm well aware of the absurd lengths the Council has taken to keep me contained," Fintan assured him. "But I don't plan on giving you a reason to use any of them. Not today, at least."

The guard bared his supersharp pointy teeth, and Marella wanted to shout NEVER MIND, JUST KIDDING! But she let the guard shove the cache through the tiny opening--and then it was too late to change her mind.

All she could do was watch the glass orb make its slow descent, rolling around and around and around--down some sort of invisible path etched into the wall of the cell.

Her stomach backflipped with each rotation, and she felt more than a little vomit-y when the cache dropped low enough for Fintan to catch it. But he simply held it up and studied it.

Then he coughed on it.

And sneezed on it.

"Ewwwwwww," Marella groaned when he followed that up by drooling on it. "You know, there are better ways to give it your DNA."

"Yes, I'm aware." Fintan cleared his throat and launched a slimy blob of spit at the cache. "I also know your little Technopath friend is going to ask you how I accessed the memories, so feel free to give him a detailed list." He wiped the cache dry with his fingers and then ran it through his greasy hair before sneezing and coughing on it again. "Some of these methods are vital. Some are distractions. None can be re-created without me--but it'll be fun if he tries, don't you think?"

He laughed so hard, it brought tears to his eyes, and he smeared them across the cache before sneezing and spitting on it again--making Marella very glad she had gloves to keep her hands clean once he returned the cache.

Assuming she actually got it back...

She tried to make out what he was saying when he started mumbling a bunch of stuff into the crystal, but the words were all mushed together. He also tapped the cache in so many different places that she doubted even Sophie and Keefe with their fancy photographic memories would be able to re-create the patterns. And he looked so smug as he did it all that Marella decided to look as bored as possible--which was why she was barely paying attention when the cache flared to life, projecting a small hologram of Fintan standing alone in a wide, empty field.

"Huh," Marella mumbled. "Gotta admit, I was expecting something a little more exciting than a tiny glowing Fintan in the middle of nowhere doing...nothing."

"Then you should learn to be more observant." Fintan pointed to the swaying grass around the hologram's feet, and after a few seconds, Marella realized there was a vine of blooming Noxflares. "I figured I'd show you what Noxflares can do, since you're so generously bringing one back into my life."

Marella squinted at the tiny flowers, waiting for something to happen.

And waiting.

And waiting.

"So...they...blow in the wind?" she asked.

Fintan sighed. "No, they do this."

The hologram of Fintan waved his arms, and all the Noxflares erupted with searing white flames.

"Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah, still not seeing why this needed to be a super-hush-hush Forgotten Secret," Marella grumbled as the Fintan hologram flicked his wrist and added purple fire to the white.

Sure, the flames were pretty--but all flames were beautiful.

"Try thinking like a Pyrokinetic!" Fintan snapped. "Tell me, are there any other flowers that could remain intact under such an inferno?"

Marella couldn't think of any.

And the Noxflares still didn't burn when the Fintan hologram added yellow flames to the fiery mix.

but other than clearly being fire-resistant, Marella didn't see the Noxflares actually doing anything--and the hologram of Fintan must've been equally unimpressed.

He frowned at the flaming petals and dragged a hand down his face, mumbling "something's missing."

"Still not seeing the point of this," Marella noted. "I mean..."

Her voice trailed off as the tiny Fintan waved his arms again and blasted the Noxflares with pink flames--which made the flowers spray sparks in every direction.

The effect was breathtaking.

Kind of like the sky during the Celestial Festival.

But that still didn't necessarily scream, THIS MEMORY IS IMPORTANT.

"How come the grass isn't catching fire?" she asked, grasping for anything that might be significant. "Do the Noxflares protect it or something?"

"No, I was protecting it. A pyrokinetic should always be in control of their flames."

He sounded so smug Marella was tempted to remind him that he let five Pyrokinetics die when he tried to teach them how to call down Everblaze and they all lost control--but that would probably make him throw one of his tantrums and send her away.

She needed the cache back first--and to hopefully find something useful in this boring memory. But sadly, all Fintan's hologram did was stare blankly at the stars and mumble "something's missing" again before the image flashed away.

"That's it?" the scary guard demanded, beating Marella to the complaint.

"Yeah, so...you put on a little fire show all by yourself with some spark-shooting flowers," she added, trying to sum up what she'd seen. "You were clearly disappointed by that little show. And then you must've remembered you needed to..."

She waved her hands, cuing Fintan to fill in the blank with whatever was "missing."

But he just stood there, staring at the cache with the same glazed look he always got whenever he started rambling about the beauty of fire--and Marella wished Linh had come with her after all.

Linh could pelt him with snowballs or something to snap him out of it.

But then she realized...

"You never figured out what was missing--did you?"

Fintan blinked and met her gaze. "Noxflares are full of possibility. But they need to burn."

"That doesn't answer my question," Marella noted.

Fintan shrugged. "Context was not part of our bargain."

"yeah, because I figured when I saw the memory, it would be obvious why it's this big Forgotten Secret. How does you setting some flowers on fire and then realizing you did it wrong matter to anyone?"

"I did nothing wrong," Fintan assured her, with a particularly haughty smile--butt Marella wasn't buying it.

There was a tightness around his eyes that was way too familiar.

Her dad had that same tightness every time her mom was having one of her "bad days," and she knew exactly what it meant.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

A hint of helplessness.

So she marched over to the guard and grabbed the frozen Noxflare from the floor--too irritated to even notice how heavy the ice must've been as she hauled it back.

She plopped it in front of Fintan's cell. "Ta-da! One ugly flower, as promised--and I'm sure you're not surprised that I had to freeze it before i brought it down here."

"I'm not." Fintan dropped to his knees and gazed at the Noxflare like he was seeing a long-lost friend.

He pressed his hand against his cell, trying to get as close as he could. "Such power. Such...promise."

"Uh-huh," Marella agreed, letting his stare and stare, hoping it would help him let his guard down.

When his eyes turned a little teary, she went in for the kill.

"But there is something still missing, isn't there? That's why you saved this memory--to remind yourself to keep looking."

A whole lot of painful silence passed before Fintan slowly nodded.

Marella wanted to feel triumphant.

But all she'd done was prove the entire trade had been pointless.

There was no game-changing clue.

No dirty little secret about the past.

Certainly nothing to help them stop their enemies.

And she had a pretty strong hunch the other eight memories in the cache would be just as ridiculous.

"The answer is out there," Fintan murmured. "I can feel it. I just can't grasp it. Perhaps..."

"Perhaps?" Marella prompted when his eyes locked with hers.

Fintan stepped closer to the ice, keeping his voice low, like he didn't want the guard to hear him. "Perhaps a different Pyrokinetic is meant to find the truth. One who's already convinced the Council to trust her."

Marella laughed. "The Council doesn't trust me."

"The fact that you're here for a pyrokinesis lesson says otherwise--particularly since the lesson is with me." He started circling his cell again, mumbling under his breath and nodding. The only words Marella caught were "possible," "improvising," and "best option."

After three more times around the cell, he stopped in front of Marella again, leaning even closer to the icy wall as he whispered, "I believe it's time for me to offer a trade of my own."

"A trade," Marella repeated, not missing the way the scary guard gripped his sword.

Fintan glared at him. "This conversation is between me and my prodigy. She stands here of her own free will, shielded by who knows how many different kinds of protections--and she can leave anytime she pleases. Your presence is no longer needed."

"You still have her gadget," the guard argued.

"I suppose I do. but that can be easily remedied." Fintan set the cache on whatever invisible ledge it had slid down in the first place and gave it a good shove, sending it spinning up the path toward the top of the cell.

The guard had to scramble to catch it when it launched out of the ice bubble.

"See?" Fintan said, shifting his gaze back to Marella. "I can be trusted."

"Pretty sure the only thing I can trust is that you'll do what's best for you," Marella countered.

"As long as you get what you want, why would you care? After all, no matter what, I'm still stuck in here, aren't I?" He waved his arms around his little ice bubble, which suddenly looked way less secure than it had during her other visits. "Oh, relax--all I'm asking for is a little information."

Marella crossed her arms. "Right--and information has never gotten anyone hurt or killed."

"It's not that kind of secret. It's..." He frowned. "Honestly, I don't know what it is--and for someone my age, with my connections, that says something, doesn't it? I doubt any of the Vackers even know the full truth."

"Then how am I supposed to find it?" Marella demanded.

"As I said, you've proven to be quite resourceful. Particularly when you team up with your little friends." He scowled at the guard again before motioning her to step closer--until her ear was practically pressed up against the ice.

A voice in the back of her head kept screaming, WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO HIM?

But...she was curious.

And there was nothing wrong with hearing his offer, was there?

Fintan's breath fogged the ice, obscuring his face as he whispered, "All I ask is that if you ever find out what's missing from the Noxflares, you share it with me."

"Why?" Marella glanced at the frozen flower, wishing she could see something more than just ugly shriveled petals.

"Because I want to know," Fintan said simply. "And because I can give you what you want in return."

"The rest of the memories in your cache," Marella clarified.

Fintan nodded. Then his lips curled into a smile. "And one other--something you've long wondered about, even though you probably don't admit it to yourself."

Marella raised one eyebrow, refusing to show any more interest than that.

Fintan cupped his hands around his mouth and pressed them to the ice before he whispered, "I know what happened to your mother."

Marella sucked in a breath.

"Yes," Fintan added. "I'm talking about her 'accident'--if we can really call it that. I know why she fell. And why her injuries were so incurable."

Marella stumbled back, collapsing into the nearest throne and hugging herself to stop her body from shaking with tremors that had nothing to do with the cold.

A tiny, terrified part of her had always thought the story she'd been told about her mom's fall hadn't totally made sense.

But everyone--everyone--was convinced it had been an accident.

Even her father.

And if it wasn't...

She leaned toward Fintan. "I don't need your games."

"Oh, this definitely isn't a game. But it's the only way you'll ever know the truth, and before you start overthinking everything, consider this: You have all the power here. Make the trade, don't make the trade--it's totally your call. You also don't have to make a decision right away. I'm trapped in this prison. I'll never find the answer on my own--and I'll never know if you find the answer unless you decide to tell me. So there's zero pressure. No one even knows we've had this conversation--and don't worry about the guard. See how frustrated he looks? That's because I made sure he only heard what I wanted him to hear. The rest is our little secret."

Our little secret.

Fintan was probably the last person she should have a secret with.

And yet...he had a point.

No one knew he'd made her this offer--and it wasn't like she'd come to any decision.

She didn't even have the information Fintan wanted anyway!

And with the way their investigations always seemed to go, she'd probably only find a whole lot more questions.

So there was really no point in telling anyone about this.

She could tell them whens he needed to.

If she needed to.

That wouldn't be wrong...would it?

It didn't feel wrong--or it wouldn't have if Fintan's smile wasn't so creepy.

"I'm not agreeing to anything," she said, wanting to make that very clear.

"You're not," Fintan assured her. "So how about we put this out of our minds and get started with our lesson? I'm sure your Hydrokinetic friend is wondering why you haven't come up to practice yet."

Linh was probably starting to worry.

She'd probably also built enough snow animals to make a frozen Sanctuary.

"Fine," Marella said, standing up and dusting ice off her cape. "What do you want me to work on today?"

"How about I teach you how to make those colored flames you saw in the memory," Fintan suggested. "You know, in case that ever comes in handy."

He winked, and the guard groaned and held out the cache to Marella. "Sound like I'm no longer needed."

"You aren't" Fintan agreed.

The guard growled--looking scarier than ever--and turned to march away. But he spun back after a few steps. "He's right that I don't know what he offered you. But I can tell you're tempted. And I hope you're smart enough to reject it. Never make a deal with someone who has nothing to lose."

"I'm not," Marella promised.

And she wasn't.

She hadn't made any decisions--except to keep this to herself. But that didn't mean anything.

She was just trying to avoid a ton of drama and arguing and having people give her advice she didn't need.

Plus, everyone has secrets.

Shoot--the great Sophie Foster had more secrets than anyone.

So it was fine.

Everything was fine.

Nothing had changed.

Time to focus on controlling her fire.

And yet, for the rest of the lesson, the tiny spark in her heart burned hotter and hotter and hotter. Whispering a new plea.

Trust me.

Trust me.

Trust me.

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

hello everything is fine? if you are taking requests i would like to know if you can do idw or bayverse megatron with a female autobot he falls in love with? Is the reader a former gladiator who called herself Darkblade in Cybertron and has the power of pyrokinetic?

I wrote this with Bayverse Megatron, because I don't feel 100% comfortable writing IDW Megs yet. I need to finish reading a few more comics to get his character down, then I will start properly writing for him.

Anyway, here you go! Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: None.

Megatron x femme Autobot reader

~~~~~

Most of the time, if he needed something trivial done, Megatron would send his soldiers to do the job. He was usually busy with more important tasks. But occasionally he went into the fight himself. Whether it was because his soldiers failed, or it was an important job, he would want to be there himself.

One of his seekers called over comms, letting him know they spotted Optimus fighting nearby. Megatron will always take the opportunity to take down Optimus, so he transformed and began driving to Prime’s last seen location.

Megatron got to the location of the battle. A few of his Decepticons were scattered around fighting Autobots. He searched around, trying to find Optimus. Megatron scanned the area but could not find Prime. He tried to shoot at a few of the other Autobots, thinking if he was there, he might as well take out some of the enemy. Then he saw her. A familiar bot from a long time ago.

Darkblade.

A gladiator who used to fight for entertainment on Cybertron. Megatron stared at her, watching the way she fought with such grace and fierce control. Her servos were ablaze, yet she controlled the flames with ease, directing the fire to attack the cons surrounding her. Megatron scanned over her frame and saw the Autobot insignia stuck to it.

Megatron growled, unable to control his disdain. Why was such a powerful warrior, such a skilled fighter, on the side of the Autobots? Megatron stalked over to the femme. A spike of eagerness rushing through him.

~

You fought with ease. The Decepticons trying to fight against you were sloppy and nowhere near as skilled as you were. But they were determined to take you down.

“Decepticons. Leave her.” Megatron ordered. Two cons who were fighting you left, leaving Megatron alone with you. You looked at Megatron and recognized him immediately. You had fought together by his side, and had fought against him back in the arena. Before the war you had a mutual respect for each other, but now he was the enemy.

You got into a fighting stance, your servos swirling with fire. Megatron stood close, but he did not prepare to attack. He just smirked.

“Darkblade. The great warrior.” He uttered.

“That’s not who I am anymore.” You snarled.

“That will always be who you are. The fight will always be in your spark.” Megatron took a step closer, causing you to step back.

“Why did you do this to yourself?” Megatron pointed at your Autobot insignia. “You’re better than them.”

“No, I’m not. They are good, they are right. They protect life not take it away meaninglessly. Unlike you.” You spat.

“They are weak.”

“If they are so weak, how come you have not finished them off?” You countered. “They are strong and that is why you can not defeat them.” Megatron paused for a second, thinking of a reply.

“I will agree that there are many that are strong. But their skills are being wasted for the wrong cause. You should join me, put your strength to a better cause, fight for the future of Cybertron.”

“I’m already fighting for Cybertron, and for a better reason than you have. I’ll never join you, so you either fight me, or run away.” You braced for an attack. You knew you shouldn’t give him the option, but your history with Megatron was making you pause. Somewhere deep inside, you still had respect for him.

“I’ve fought you before. I know your strength. So, I won’t fight you again, at least not this time. But my offer will remain open. I await you decision and your turn to my side.” Megatron calmly spoke, then walked away leaving you confused.

~

Megatron could not stop thinking about you. You plagued his mind and he was unsure how to feel about it.  You were brilliant, you were strong and powerful. Megatron wouldn’t deny the fact that he thought you were incredible.  But you were also an Autobot and that made you the enemy. He wanted to hate you, but he couldn’t. He wanted you on his side, he wanted you fighting beside him and for him. He wanted you.

His spark hummed happily at the thought of you. He assumed it was just from respect for you, and nothing else. He needed you on his side, only because you were a great fighter.

Megatron began going on more missions, even ones he didn’t need to. He was hoping to see you and to convince you to join his side. Anytime he saw you he spoke with you, not attacking, just standing peacefully and talking to you.

~

At first you didn’t trust it, you kept your guard up the whole time. But after a few interactions you realized, he was never going to hurt you. In fact, you started expecting to meet Megatron every time there was a Decepticon attack. Each time he tried to convince you to join him, and each time you declined. But sometimes he stuck around to have a more, civil and meaningful conversation. Like he just wanted your company.

You heard the alert over your comms, a Decepticon group was attacking near your location. You were the first to respond and arrived to the scene in record time. You immediately jumped into attack. The first few cons were easy and you were able to take them down. But one remained. A large brute of a bot, you could tell he was much stronger than you, but you hoped you were smarter than him.

You fought for a while, each of you landing a fair number of punches. You thought you might be able to withstand his attacks and make a surprise attack on him. Unfortunately, he caught on and was able to catch you before you hit him. He grabbed you, throwing you to the ground. The con crouched over you, crushing you into the ground. For the first time in decades, you were worried.

Then the con was pulled off your frame, and thrown to the side. You glanced up, seeing Megatron standing over his own.

“She’s mine. Leave, now.” Megatron ordered. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Megatron. He had become a regular sight, and a bit of a comfort. He knew who you were and what you were capable of, and he liked that about you.

Many of the other Autobots had judged you or given you the cold shoulder because of your gladiator background. But Megatron, he was the one who really knew you and liked who you were.

You knew who he was and what he had done. But he seemed so, calm around you.

“Are you hurt?” Megatron asked, his optics scanning over your frame.

“I’m fine.” You replied. “Thank you.”

“You do not need to thank me. I’m sure you had it handled.”

You chuckled, appreciating his belief in your strength. For a second you both stood in silence. Then Megatron faced you.

“You confuse me.” Megatron stated. You raised an optic ridge and stared back at him.

“How so?”

“You claim to be an Autobot, and being so means I am your greatest enemy. Yet you do not attack me, you stay and talk.”

“Well, I’m an Autobot and you don’t attack me. Why?” You asked.

“Because I want you.” Megatron stated blatantly. Your spark skipped, was this excitement? Were you happy to hear that? Then Megatron continued talking, forcing you to calm yourself. “I want you on my side, because your skills and strength are almost unmatched by others. I know I could get far with you by my side.”

“But I’ll never join you. I just can’t.” You uttered, looking away briefly. Megatron took a step closer, but you didn’t move, you allowed him to get close. You spark heating up as he did.

“It pains me to hear that, because I know what you are capable of. I want to help you grow your strength and skills. But I can not force you, I want you to come to me by your own choice. You also confuse me, because you make me feel…” Megatron paused.

It didn’t take him long to realize what he was feeling. His spark yearned for you. He thought of you every moment, and he knew he wanted to be by your side. Every time he stayed by your side he risked getting seen and attacked by other Autobots. But he stayed, knowing it was worth the risk just to be by your side for as long as he can.

“You make my spark burn, only for you. It needs to be with you, I need to be with you. And I can wait as long as you need. But I will have you by my side.” Megatron brushed a digit down your faceplate. You couldn’t stop your reflexes, your helm instinctively leaning into his touch. Your spark a flutter because of his words.

You couldn’t deny the fact you felt the same, you were eager for his presence. You looked forward to going out because you knew you would see him. There was something about Megatron that attracted you, his confidence, his power, the way he wanted you.

But you were torn. You did think about going off with Megatron, but you couldn’t stop being an Autobot, they needed you.

Megatron stepped forward closing the gap between you, he placed he helm gently against yours.

“I need you.” Megatron faltered, thinking of his next words. “It’s never something I thought of before, it was never something I wanted, but you made me think of it.” You were confused wondering what he was talking about. “I’ve never needed, nor wanted love. But now, I am in desperate need of yours. After all this time, all our encounters I know that I can’t get by without it. I want to stay with you, so that you could love me. Because the longer I stay by your side, I know I will fall in love with you more and more each day.”

Megatron pulled away, your servo reached out wanting to stop him and pull him back to you. But you stopped yourself. Megatron continued to step back, his optics staring deep into yours as he walked away.

Your processor was split, unsure what to do. But your spark only had one desire, and this once your spark was going to take the lead and make the decision.

Megatron continued to walk away, you assumed about to head to his home base. You stepped forward, following after him. You spark chasing after his, not wanting to leave him.

Megatron was happy, thrilled because now he had you. He was going to enjoy your time, your company, and with you by his side he would surely be unstoppable.

[flameandshadows]

Hi darling! I was looking for a bit of an older Bucky c reader story where the reader could control fire? And it was like an enemies to lovers and they fought a whole lot and she like set something on fire? That ended up getting together and it was hot, it was multiple parts I think.

Hellloooooo! Sounds like it could be “Stuck Wit U” by @slyyywriting :)

[uki01]

Blaze x female!reader who has same personality as Leo from tmnt(2012 version) plantoic headcanons

”Looking good in Blue and Purple”

Blaze the Cat and 2012!Leo!Reader

Author’s Note: Blaze the Cat mentioned gang! I love her

Warning: Action

Blaze respects you a lot

Loves you’re leadership and how you want to protect those you care about like she is

Though she gets concerned when you become very selfless

Especially when she hears from you’re siblings that you almost died from your worst enemies and broke a window from being thrown

As much as Blaze is very stoic, she definitely shows how much she cares and tries to get you to relax by giving you tea

Runs with you wherever you two go, travelling anywhere and everywhere

Trains with you, loves sparing with you

Whenever you rant about Spaces Heroes, specially Captain Ryan, she isn’t sure what the plot is about but loves listening to you’re interests

You two make a powerful duo with Blaze’s pyrokinetic powers and your sword performance, you two come off as a tornado

Enjoys peace and quiet with you

She doesn’t really eat pizza much but she’s amused by your love for it

Overall, Blaze respects and appreciates for your support, kindness and leadership

Would love to continue this friendship with you

Author’s Note: Hope you like this!

[kotlc-deleted-scenes]

Stellarlune Paperback Edition Marella Short Story

Hello, wonderful Keeper readers! Some of you might already know that I love to sneak a little something extra into the paperback versions of my books whenever I can (since I don't think hardcover readers should get to be the only ones who sometimes find fun bonuses). For those who didn't know that: surprise! ☺

I knew I wanted to include a story from Marella's POV this time. Not only is she on the cover (looking fierce and fabulous!) and a fan-favorite character, but she also had some key scenes in Stellarlune that we only got to "hear" about. The Keeper books are limited to Sophie's POV, so I can only include moments where Sophie is present—and since Sophie didn't go with Marella to her meetings with Fintan, we only learn what Marella tells Sophie later. But what if there was something Marella didn't share?

Over the next few pages, you can watch one of Marella's conversations with Fintan play out in real time and hear all Marella's thoughts and reactions to what's happening. I've called this story "The Trade"—and I've worked in lots of fun little extra details (some of which might even turn out to be important later…*wink*). For those wondering, this story is based on a scene in chapter 31 of Stellarlune—and if you haven't read Stellarlune yet: SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! Reading this first will probably be confusing and will also give away a few tidbits too early. You'll be much happier if you start by reading Stellarlune and then come back here for all the Marella fun once you're done.

Happy reading!

—Shannon Messenger

THE TRADE 

Marella

“Ugh, I hate this place,” Marella muttered, shaking the freshly fallen snowflakes out of her gilded blond hair much harder than necessary and yanking her thick velvet cape tighter around her narrow shoulders. 

She said the same thing every time she had to trudge through the knee-high snowdrifts and found herself staring at the icicle-crusted entrance to the now familiar cave. Didn't matter how many times she'd gone there—or how important her visits were. 

She was never not going to dread making the long, slippery trek down to Fintan's frozen cell. The cave looked like some sort of open-mouthed snow beast Mating to devour everything in its path—which was probably intentional, since the prison was designed to be as miserable as possible. 

Especially for someone like her. 

The goblin guards even gave her pitying stares as they moved aside to reveal the endless icy path that wound down and down and down a whole lot more to a place where the tiniest glimmer of heat had long since been swallowed up by the suffocating cold. 

No amount of clothing could keep Marella warm in the heart of the prison. She'd actually tried wearing so many layers that she'd looked like an overstuffed gulon and she still couldn't stop shivering. And the whole "body temperature regulation" thing wasn't exactly possible when she had to use so much concentration to make sense of Fintan's ranting. 

It wasn't fair. 

Everyone else got to train their special abilities in fancy rooms at Foxfire, with Mentors who weren't creepy, unstable murderers. 

But they weren't Pyrokinetics. 

Marella was lucky the Council was letting her use her ability at all. 

They could just as easily label her Talentless, kick her out of their snobby academy, and ban her from ever sparking another flame. 

Or they could decide she was too dangerous and lock her away. 

In fact, Marella wouldn't have been surprised at all if the Council was already building an icy cage just for her—but the thought still made her shiver and she wished she could have manifested as…

Nope.

She stopped herself from finishing that sentence. 

If life had taught her anything, it was that there's no point wanting things that were never going to happen. 

Instead, she focused on the thin beams of sunlight streaking through a gap in the gloomy gray clouds. The light was far from warm, but if she really concentrated, she could feel a hint of lingering heat tangled among the brightness. 

She called the warmth closer and soaked it in—let it pool under her skin, pounding with her pulse, swelling with every heartbeat. Growing hotter and hotter and hotter until…

Snap! 

A flick of her fingers sent a small tangle of flames sparking to life above her left palm. 

"Feel better?" Linh asked as Marella let out a long, slow sigh. 

Marella nodded—though she definitely could've done without the whispers that were now hissing around her head. 

The flames had a soft, crackly voice. And they always made the same plea. 

Feed me. 

Feed me. 

Feed me. 

Fire craved fuel—constantly wanting more, more, more—and it would've been so easy for Marella to let the fire swell bigger and bigger and bigger.

But that was the kind of thing that would lead to a lifetime of shivering in an underground ice cube, so she forced her gaze to shift to Linh, who stood in a small, snowless circle surrounded by a halo of hovering snowflakes—-none daring to touch her long silver-tipped hair or shimmery purple cape.

Marella knew how hard Linh had fought to achieve that level of control, and how tentative Linh's hold over her ability still was. But the fact Linh could stand in a sea of frozen water and do nothing except keep the falling snow from settling on her flushed pink cheeks was very…

Annoying.

Then again, everyone annoyed Marella a little.

Her dad used to call her "fiery" long before he realized how accurate that description truly was.

But it wasn't Marella's fault!

People tended to be annoying.

Especially a Hydrokinetic who was currently looking all peaceful and pretty and perfect while making snowflakes flutter and spin in intricate patterns.

That didn't mean Marella wasn't also grateful that Linh was willing to tag along to her Pyrokinetic lessons. it was nice to see a friendly face after hours of Fintan's rambling. Plus, it seemed like a good idea to have someone with water powers around while she practiced setting things on fire.

They were even finding some pretty cool ways to work together. Fire and water might be opposites—but that didn't mean they couldn't be combined. Marella had actually figured out a way to ignite Linh's rain, and she couldn't wait to use that little trick on the Neverseen—assuming those black-cloaked losers ever showed up again.

For a fearsome, unstoppable rebellion, they sure spend a lot of time hiding.

"Are you going to start by asking him about the cache or do the lesson first?" Linh asked, reminding Marella why they were there.

Marella shrugged. "Depends on Fintan's mood."

Sometimes he was already babbling about some fancy new fire trick when she arrived, as if he'd started the lesson without bothering to wait for her. Other times she couldn't get anywhere with him until she'd let him go on and on and on about how foolish the Council was, or how badly he'd been wronged, or how much he missed the feel of a flickering flame—and she didn't necessarily blame him for the last one.

Part of her wanted to hold on to her fireball forever.

Make it her smoky little pet.

Instead, she curled her fingers into a fist and snuffed it out—but she didn't let all the heat dissipate. She called a single tingling glint deeper, letting it sear through her veins and settle into her heart.

She knew it was a risky move, even with all the defenses she wrapped around it. But she couldn't bear the cold emptiness of Fintan's prison without a least a tiny fleck of warmth tucked away.

A secret spark whispering, I'm here. You're not alone.

"Okay," she said, weaving a few strands of her hair together to clam her twitchy fingers. She'd picked up the nervous habit years ago—after her mom's accident—and the tiny braids were kind of her trademark now. "i guess I should stop stalling and head down to deal with Sir Creepysparks, huh?"

Linh smiled. "Probably. Unless you want to rehearse what you're going to say."

"Nah. I'm just going to offer him an ugly flower—that doesn't exactly need a big speech. Oh, but that reminds me…"

She reached into her cape pocket and pulled out the spiky dark blue Noxflare—which looked more like a dying weed than a super-rare flower—and held it up to the guards. "Mr. Forkle already checked this before I brought it here, to make sure it's safe for me to offer to Fintan. but I figured you'd want to check it too."

"We do," they agreed in unison as one of the biggest, deadliest-looking guards took the Noxflare from Marella and brought it over to the other goblins.

A lot of mumbling about potential kindling and fire hazards followed.

Eventually, the guards decided to quick-freeze the Noxflare into a block of ice in case there was any heat stored inside.

"Whoa," Marella said when the scary guard returned with the flower-filled ice cube—which had turned out as big as her head. "How heavy is that thing?"

The guard studied Marella's skinny arms. "I can carry it for you if you'd like."

"That'd probably be smart." Marella was pretty sure she'd drop it, or her fingers would freeze off during the long walk—and using telekinesis would drain her mental energy. "But can you stay out of sight? I was planning to tell Fintan he can only see his weird flower thing if he gives me access to his memories, and that's kinda ruined if there's a giant goblin holding it right next to me.

Not that it made the plan any less pointless.

Fintan was obviously going to turn her down.

He's already made it super clear that the only trade he was interested in was for his freedom—which was never going to happen.

Marella doubted a dying flower frozen in ice was suddenly going to make him be like, You know what? Who needs out of this horrible prison when I can have that!

But she was out of other ideas.

And Sophie wanted her to try the Noxflare thing, so…

Whatever.

Marella didn't care about Sophie's current power trip the way Stina did.

As long as she didn't have to be the one coming up with all the plans—or almost dying all the time—Marella was fine following orders. Especially if she got to say I told you so when they turned out to be a huge waste of time.

"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" Linh asked as Marella pulled thick gloves onto her hands. "Fintan likes me."

Marella wasn't sure if "like" was the right word, since Fintan didn't seem to like anybody. But he'd definitely been impressed with Linh.

He'd demanded to speak with "the Hydrokinetic" after Marella mentioned she practiced her pyrokinesis with Linh, so Marella had convinced the goblin guards to let Linh down into the prison. And when Fintan asked for a demonstration of Linh's ability to ensure she wouldn't "hinder his training," Linh had stirred up all the ice shards on his floor and made them rain around him like he was trapped inside a snow globe—which actually made him applaud.

Apparently, most Hydrokinetics struggled to manipulate water in its solid form, and were limited to liquid water or water vapor.

But not Linh.

Of course.

Marella was pretty sure that Linh was more powerful than any of her other friends.

"Well, if you need me, you know where to find me," Linh said as Marella forced her feet to carry her into the cave. "I'll just be here, making another snow menagerie." She flicked her wrist and wove the hovering snowflakes into a soaring alenon.

"Ugh, at least make some ugly creatures this time," Marella called over her shoulder. "I want to see a row of snow ghouls when I get back here. Or a giant Princess Purryfins!"

Linh gasped. "Princess Purryfins is not ugly! I'm going to tell her you said that!"

Marella laughed. "I'm sure you will."

She would've teased Linh more about her ridiculous obsession with her pet murcat, but the frigid air from the prison hit Marella hard, and she had to lock her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

At least she didn't have to make the journey by herself this time.

Marella could hear the scary goblin guard keeping pace several steps behind her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim blue light cast by a series of glowing spheres dangling from the ceiling. The downward slope grew steeper with each winding curve, and Marella was always tempted to try sliding down the icy floor instead of walking—but she'd probably end up crashing into one of the weird ice thrones outside Fintan's cell. And she knew better than anyone that injuries couldn't always be healed.

Plus, the trudge gave her a chance to add extra defenses to the heat she'd tucked away in her chest.

She often wondered if Fintan had hidden a few sparks of his own when he was arrested. After all, he had to know the Council would put him on ice for the rest of eternity. Wouldn't he try to preserve what little heat he could?

But Marella had stretched out her senses a zillion different ways and never felt the slightest tingle of warmth when she was around him. So either there was nothing to find or Fintan was that good.

She had a horrible feeling it was the latter, and he was waiting for just the right moment to reveal his grand plan—but that wasn't the kind of thing she should be thinking about before having to face him.

Still, she spent the next few turns trying to figure out what she'd do if she were right.

Her feet turned numb while she plotted, and her bones were officially aching by the time the path widened— the only warning that they were getting close to Fintan's cell.

A few curves later, his cage came into view: a stark, icy bubble in the center of a circular cavern.

The round wall was reflective on the inside, so even though Marella could see Fintan pacing along the edge of his frozen barricade, he wouldn't be able to see her until she triggered the sensor by sitting in one of the freezing thrones positioned at the only point Fintan could peer through.

He looked extra tired that day—his sky blue eyes sunken by more shadows than usual, and he kept muttering under his breath about incompetence as he tucked his messy blond hair behind his pointy ears with a bit more force than necessary.

Marella glanced back at the scary guard, making sure he'd ducked into the shadows near the back of the cell before she made her big appearance. Then she took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her heart, reaching for her secret spark of warmth one last time before plopping into the closest ice throne.

"Awwwww, looks like you missed me," she said, tossing back her hair and flashing her brightest smile.

She liked to start her visits by showing Fintan she wasn't afraid of him—even if she totally was.

But Fintan didn't glance her way.

"I'm not in the mood for games," he warned as he continued his slow march around his cell.

"Neither am I" Marella assured him, deciding that was her cue to start with the cache. She sat up taller, trying to look extra confident as she added, "But I do have an awesome trade to offer you!"

Fintan sighed. "If this is about my cache, I already told you what I'm willing to accept. Unless you're here to grant me a day of freedom—"

"I'm definitely not. But! I found something you should like even better." She paused, hoping the extra bit of anticipation would somehow make her offer sound more exciting when she told him. "Noxflares!"

Fintan scrunched his slender nose. "What are Noxflares, and why would I care about them?"

Marella tilted her head, trying to tell if he was faking.

She hadn't expected him to jump around or applaud or anything—but she had expected him to at least know what Noxflares were.

Then again, his mind had been shattered and pieced back together so many times, his memories had to be in shambles—and Ancient minds tended to be a total mess anyway, since they were crammed with thousands of years of information and the past and present blurred together.

"Would it help if I told you I stopped by your old estate on my way here?" she asked, "Your garden could use some gnomish help, by the way. All the plants have turned into a giant dying tangle. But I dug around and managed to find this scraggly vine with dark pointy flowers—and I hear that plant is special to you, so I picked a few and—"

"You picked my Noxflares?" Fintan snapped, rushing to the wall of his cell and pressing his palms against the ice. "You must let me see them!"

Marella's lips curled into a huge smirk. "I thought you didn't know what they were."

Fintan gritted his teeth so hard, it sounded like cracking ice.

"Hey, I'm not saying I won't share. Buuuuuuuuuuut it'll cost you—and I'm pretty sure you can already guess what I want." She paused for another beat before she added, "Just so we're clear: I'll show you one of your Noxflares if you open your cache and show me what's inside."

Fintan's jaw tightened even more and his hands curled into fists.

But he didn't say no.

He didn't say anything—which was definitely new.

Marella had already offered him a long list of trade suggestions that she, Linh, Maruca, and Stina had all come up with—some really cool ones! And Fintan had shot each one down before she could even finish the offer.

She couldn't believe he looked so tempted by an ugly flower.

but as the silence dragged on, Marella started to wonder if she'd misread the situation.

maybe she'd pushed him too hard—taunted him too much—and now Fintan was letting her sit there in the cold, knowing the icy throne was turning her butt and legs numb.

She was trying to decide if she could make standing up look like a power move when Fintan told her, "Fine. You have a deal—but since you're only offering one Noxflare, I'll only show you one memory."

Marella barely stopped herself from blurting out, SERIOUSLY?

"Orrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she said instead, wanting to kick herself for not bringing more Noxflares with her. The whole thing had just seemed so silly—and the first few she'd picked had crumbled to dust. But the vine had lots more flowers, so she could fix the mistake super easily. "How about I go back, grab eight more Noxflares, and then you show me all nine memories?"

Fintan grinned. "Tempting. But one Noxflare is really all I need."

Need?

Marella wasn't a fan of that wording.

But before she could ask him what he needed it for, he added, "My offer expires in ten seconds," and started counting down.

By "six" she decided that one memory was better than nothing.

"Fine," she said, pulling the cache from her pocket and holding the marble-size orb up to the light. "But you go first. How do I open this thing?"

No way was she going to risk letting him back out—especially since he probably wasn't going to be happy when he saw his precious flower was stuck in the middle of a giant ice cube.

Fintan held out his hand. "Give me the cache, and I'll open it."

Marella laughed. "Hard pass."

"Ah, but you don't have a choice. I'm the only one who can access the memories. And I need to make physical contact with the cache in order to do so."

Marella squinted at the tiny gadget.

She didn't know much about caches—aside from the fact that only Councillors used them and that each colorful inner crystal held a single Forgotten Secret. But she did know that Dex had already tried everything he could think of to open the cache and failed—and he was one of the best Technopaths ever.

"Do I need to start counting down again?" Fintan asked. "I believe we'd gotten to five…"

Marella chewed her lip. "Uh, how do I know you're not going to destroy the cache or try to hold it for ransom or something?"

Fintan's smile was colder than his cell. "You'll just have to trust me."

"Yeah, I don't see that happening."

Fintan shrugged. "Then our deal is off."

Marella rolled her eyes. "Come on. Even if I wanted to, it's not like I can open your cell door and hand the cache to you."

She wasn't even sure if his cell had a door. The wall looked like one big solid piece of ice.

"You've proven to be very resourceful during our lessons," Fintan reminded her.

"Yeah, but—"

"It's your call," he interrupted. "If you want a memory, you'll have to trust me."

She snort-laughed—but before she could get another word out, he repeated, "You'll just have to trust me." And she could tell that was the only response he was going to give.

She turned to the scary guard, who had started pacing in the shadows. "Is there a way to pass Fintan a small item?"

"Ah, you have a hidden goblin escort—I knew you were resourceful!" Fintan clapped his hands. "And yes, there is a way to pass me my cache, otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it. Any guard can open the disgraceful tube they pass my horrid, frozen bits of food through. The cache should fit nicely."

The guard gripped his sword. "I cannot allow any unauthorized item to enter his cell."

Fintan clicked his tongue. "Clearly you're not considering the fact that I've already had plenty of chances to make this trade—and turned them all down. Do you think I would do that if the cache was even remotely useful to me?"

The goblin couldn't argue with that logic.

Neither could Marella.

And when Fintan went back to counting down, she told the guard, "The Black Swan knows I've been trying to make this trade—and they're working with the Council now. No one would let me do this if they thought the cache was dangerous."

Then again, they'd never discussed the possibility of handing the cache over to Fintan—but surely someone must've considered that during all their endless talking and obsessive overplanning…right?

Besides, if anything went wrong, she could always remind them that this was Sophie's idea.

"I don't like this," the scary guard growled. But Marella gave him her I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing glare until he set the frozen Noxflare down with a particularly dramatic thud, snatched the cache, and spent an eternity squinting at the tiny crystal, spinning it all different ways. "If anything happens, my priority will be subduing the prisoner—not protecting you. Are you certain you want to take that risk?"

Marella absolutely wasn't.

But…this might be their only shot at seeing one of Fintan's Forgotten Secrets.

Plus, she had her tiny little spark buddy she could call on if she needed. Surely she could use that to…

To what?

Take down a superpowerful, much more experienced Pyrokinetic with a history of murdering poeple?

But…did she really want to wimp out?

Sophie wouldn't.

And yeah, Sophie had, like, a permanent bed in the Healing Center. But Marella was pretty sure their whole group would vote "DO IT!"

There were also a dozen other armed goblins who would rush down as backup.

And Linh could attack Fintan with her cutesy snow animals.

It'd almost be worth it to watch Fintan get swallowed up by an ice wave shaped like Princess Purryfins.

"I can handle myself," she decided, using a tone that hopefully sounded intimidating.

Fintan's gleeful laughter echoed off the ice.

The scary guard muttered something about the arrogance of elves as he reached toward the top of Fintan's frozen cell and felt around for a specific spot. A faint clicking sound followed, and a tiny round door slid open—far out of Fintan's reach.

"I can neutralize you within seconds," the guard reminded him as he held the cache up to the opening. "By numerous means. Some far more painful than others."

"Yes, I'm well aware of the absurd lengths the Council has taken to keep me contained," Fintan assured him. "But I don't plan on giving you a reason to use any of them. Not today, at least."

The guard bared his supersharp pointy teeth, and Marella wanted to shout NEVER MIND, JUST KIDDING! But she let the guard shove the cache through the tiny opening—and then it was too late to change her mind.

All she could do was watch the glass orb make its slow descent, rolling around and around and around—down some sort of invisible path etched into the wall of the cell.

Her stomach backflipped with each rotation, and she felt more than a little vomit-y when the cache dropped low enough for Fintan to catch it. But he simply held it up and studied it.

Then he coughed on it.

And sneezed on it.

"Ewwwwwww," Marella groaned when he followed that up by drooling on it. "You know, there are better ways to give it your DNA."

"Yes, I'm aware." Fintan cleared his throat and launched a slimy blob of spit at the cache. "I also know your little Technopath friend is going to ask you how I accessed the memories, so feel free to give him a detailed list." He wiped the cache dry with his fingers and then ran it through his greasy hair before sneezing and coughing on it again. "Some of these methods are vital. Some are distractions. None can be re-created without me—but it'll be fun if he tries, don't you think?"

He laughed so hard, it brought tears to his eyes, and he smeared them across the cache before sneezing and spitting on it again—making Marella very glad she had gloves to keep her hands clean once he returned the cache.

Assuming she actually got it back…

She tried to make out what he was saying when he started mumbling a bunch of stuff into the crystal, but the words were all mushed together. He also tapped the cache in so many different places that she doubted even Sophie and Keefe with their fancy photographic memories would be able to re-create the patterns. And he looked so smug as he did it all that Marella decided to look as bored as possible—which was why she was barely paying attention when the cache flared to life, projecting a small hologram of Fintan standing alone in a wide, empty field.

"Huh," Marella mumbled. "Gotta admit, I was expecting something a little more exciting than a tiny glowing Fintan in the middle of nowhere doing…nothing."

"Then you should learn to be more observant." Fintan pointed to the swaying grass around the hologram's feet, and after a few seconds, Marella realized there was a vine of blooming Noxflares. "I figured I'd show you what Noxflares can do, since you're so generously bringing one back into my life."

Marella squinted at the tiny flowers, waiting for something to happen.

And waiting.

And waiting.

"So…they…blow in the wind?" she asked.

Fintan sighed. "No, they do this."

The hologram of Fintan waved his arms, and all the Noxflares erupted with searing white flames.

"Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah, still not seeing why this needed to be a super-hush-hush Forgotten Secret," Marella grumbled as the Fintan hologram flicked his wrist and added purple fire to the white.

Sure, the flames were pretty—but all flames were beautiful.

"Try thinking like a Pyrokinetic!" Fintan snapped. "Tell me, are there any other flowers that could remain intact under such an inferno?"

Marella couldn't think of any.

And the Noxflares still didn't burn when the Fintan hologram added yellow flames to the fiery mix.

but other than clearly being fire-resistant, Marella didn't see the Noxflares actually doing anything—and the hologram of Fintan must've been equally unimpressed.

He frowned at the flaming petals and dragged a hand down his face, mumbling "something's missing."

"Still not seeing the point of this," Marella noted. "I mean…"

Her voice trailed off as the tiny Fintan waved his arms again and blasted the Noxflares with pink flames—which made the flowers spray sparks in every direction.

The effect was breathtaking.

Kind of like the sky during the Celestial Festival.

But that still didn't necessarily scream, THIS MEMORY IS IMPORTANT.

"How come the grass isn't catching fire?" she asked, grasping for anything that might be significant. "Do the Noxflares protect it or something?"

"No, I was protecting it. A pyrokinetic should always be in control of their flames."

He sounded so smug Marella was tempted to remind him that he let five Pyrokinetics die when he tried to teach them how to call down Everblaze and they all lost control—but that would probably make him throw one of his tantrums and send her away.

She needed the cache back first—and to hopefully find something useful in this boring memory. But sadly, all Fintan's hologram did was stare blankly at the stars and mumble "something's missing" again before the image flashed away.

"That's it?" the scary guard demanded, beating Marella to the complaint.

"Yeah, so…you put on a little fire show all by yourself with some spark-shooting flowers," she added, trying to sum up what she'd seen. "You were clearly disappointed by that little show. And then you must've remembered you needed to…"

She waved her hands, cuing Fintan to fill in the blank with whatever was "missing."

But he just stood there, staring at the cache with the same glazed look he always got whenever he started rambling about the beauty of fire—and Marella wished Linh had come with her after all.

Linh could pelt him with snowballs or something to snap him out of it.

But then she realized…

"You never figured out what was missing—did you?"

Fintan blinked and met her gaze. "Noxflares are full of possibility. But they need to burn."

"That doesn't answer my question," Marella noted.

Fintan shrugged. "Context was not part of our bargain."

"yeah, because I figured when I saw the memory, it would be obvious why it's this big Forgotten Secret. How does you setting some flowers on fire and then realizing you did it wrong matter to anyone?"

"I did nothing wrong," Fintan assured her, with a particularly haughty smile—but Marella wasn't buying it.

There was a tightness around his eyes that was way too familiar.

Her dad had that same tightness every time her mom was having one of her "bad days," and she knew exactly what it meant.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

A hint of helplessness.

So she marched over to the guard and grabbed the frozen Noxflare from the floor—too irritated to even notice how heavy the ice must've been as she hauled it back.

She plopped it in front of Fintan's cell. "Ta-da! One ugly flower, as promised—and I'm sure you're not surprised that I had to freeze it before I brought it down here."

"I'm not." Fintan dropped to his knees and gazed at the Noxflare like he was seeing a long-lost friend.

He pressed his hand against his cell, trying to get as close as he could. "Such power. Such…promise."

"Uh-huh," Marella agreed, letting his stare and stare, hoping it would help him let his guard down.

When his eyes turned a little teary, she went in for the kill.

"But there is something still missing, isn't there? That's why you saved this memory—to remind yourself to keep looking."

A whole lot of painful silence passed before Fintan slowly nodded.

Marella wanted to feel triumphant.

But all she'd done was prove the entire trade had been pointless.

There was no game-changing clue.

No dirty little secret about the past.

Certainly nothing to help them stop their enemies.

And she had a pretty strong hunch the other eight memories in the cache would be just as ridiculous.

"The answer is out there," Fintan murmured. "I can feel it. I just can't grasp it. Perhaps…"

"Perhaps?" Marella prompted when his eyes locked with hers.

Fintan stepped closer to the ice, keeping his voice low, like he didn't want the guard to hear him. "Perhaps a different Pyrokinetic is meant to find the truth. One who's already convinced the Council to trust her."

Marella laughed. "The Council doesn't trust me."

"The fact that you're here for a pyrokinesis lesson says otherwise—particularly since the lesson is with me." He started circling his cell again, mumbling under his breath and nodding. The only words Marella caught were "possible," "improvising," and "best option."

After three more times around the cell, he stopped in front of Marella again, leaning even closer to the icy wall as he whispered, "I believe it's time for me to offer a trade of my own."

"A trade," Marella repeated, not missing the way the scary guard gripped his sword.

Fintan glared at him. "This conversation is between me and my prodigy. She stands here of her own free will, shielded by who knows how many different kinds of protections—and she can leave anytime she pleases. Your presence is no longer needed."

"You still have her gadget," the guard argued.

"I suppose I do. but that can be easily remedied." Fintan set the cache on whatever invisible ledge it had slid down in the first place and gave it a good shove, sending it spinning up the path toward the top of the cell.

The guard had to scramble to catch it when it launched out of the ice bubble.

"See?" Fintan said, shifting his gaze back to Marella. "I can be trusted."

"Pretty sure the only thing I can trust is that you'll do what's best for you," Marella countered.

"As long as you get what you want, why would you care? After all, no matter what, I'm still stuck in here, aren't I?" He waved his arms around his little ice bubble, which suddenly looked way less secure than it had during her other visits. "Oh, relax—all I'm asking for is a little information."

Marella crossed her arms. "Right—and information has never gotten anyone hurt or killed."

"It's not that kind of secret. It's…" He frowned. "Honestly, I don't know what it is—and for someone my age, with my connections, that says something, doesn't it? I doubt any of the Vackers even know the full truth."

"Then how am I supposed to find it?" Marella demanded.

"As I said, you've proven to be quite resourceful. Particularly when you team up with your little friends." He scowled at the guard again before motioning her to step closer—until her ear was practically pressed up against the ice.

A voice in the back of her head kept screaming, WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO HIM?

But…she was curious.

And there was nothing wrong with hearing his offer, was there?

Fintan's breath fogged the ice, obscuring his face as he whispered, "All I ask is that if you ever find out what's missing from the Noxflares, you share it with me."

"Why?" Marella glanced at the frozen flower, wishing she could see something more than just ugly shriveled petals.

"Because I want to know," Fintan said simply. "And because I can give you what you want in return."

"The rest of the memories in your cache," Marella clarified.

Fintan nodded. Then his lips curled into a smile. "And one other—something you've long wondered about, even though you probably don't admit it to yourself."

Marella raised one eyebrow, refusing to show any more interest than that.

Fintan cupped his hands around his mouth and pressed them to the ice before he whispered, "I know what happened to your mother."

Marella sucked in a breath.

"Yes," Fintan added. "I'm talking about her 'accident'—if we can really call it that. I know why she fell. And why her injuries were so incurable."

Marella stumbled back, collapsing into the nearest throne and hugging herself to stop her body from shaking with tremors that had nothing to do with the cold.

A tiny, terrified part of her had always thought the story she'd been told about her mom's fall hadn't totally made sense.

But everyone—everyone—was convinced it had been an accident.

Even her father.

And if it wasn't…

She leaned toward Fintan. "I don't need your games."

"Oh, this definitely isn't a game. But it's the only way you'll ever know the truth, and before you start overthinking everything, consider this: You have all the power here. Make the trade, don't make the trade—it's totally your call. You also don't have to make a decision right away. I'm trapped in this prison. I'll never find the answer on my own—and I'll never know if you find the answer unless you decide to tell me. So there's zero pressure. No one even knows we've had this conversation—and don't worry about the guard. See how frustrated he looks? That's because I made sure he only heard what I wanted him to hear. The rest is our little secret."

Our little secret.

Fintan was probably the last person she should have a secret with.

And yet…he had a point.

No one knew he'd made her this offer—and it wasn't like she'd come to any decision.

She didn't even have the information Fintan wanted anyway!

And with the way their investigations always seemed to go, she'd probably only find a whole lot more questions.

So there was really no point in telling anyone about this.

She could tell them whens he needed to.

If she needed to.

That wouldn't be wrong…would it?

It didn't feel wrong—or it wouldn't have if Fintan's smile wasn't so creepy.

"I'm not agreeing to anything," she said, wanting to make that very clear.

"You're not," Fintan assured her. "So how about we put this out of our minds and get started with our lesson? I'm sure your Hydrokinetic friend is wondering why you haven't come up to practice yet."

Linh was probably starting to worry.

She'd probably also built enough snow animals to make a frozen Sanctuary.

"Fine," Marella said, standing up and dusting ice off her cape. "What do you want me to work on today?"

"How about I teach you how to make those colored flames you saw in the memory," Fintan suggested. "You know, in case that ever comes in handy."

He winked, and the guard groaned and held out the cache to Marella. "Sounds like I'm no longer needed."

"You aren't," Fintan agreed.

The guard growled—looking scarier than ever—and turned to march away. But he spun back after a few steps. "He's right that I don't know what he offered you. But I can tell you're tempted. And I hope you're smart enough to reject it. Never make a deal with someone who has nothing to lose."

"I'm not," Marella promised.

And she wasn't.

She hadn't made any decisions—except to keep this to herself. But that didn't mean anything.

She was just trying to avoid a ton of drama and arguing and having people give her advice she didn't need.

Plus, everyone has secrets.

Shoot—the great Sophie Foster had more secrets than anyone.

So it was fine.

Everything was fine.

Nothing had changed.

Time to focus on controlling her fire.

And yet, for the rest of the lesson, the tiny spark in her heart burned hotter and hotter and hotter. Whispering a new plea.

Trust me.

Trust me.

Trust me.

Note: Thank you to @bookwyrminspiration for doing the bulk of this transcription!

[runabout-river]

The Mechanisms of Gojo's Defeat

It's been over a week since the formerly Strongest sorcerer got cut in two but how exactly did that happen? The fight Gojo vs Sukuna had been full of technicalities and showcased JJK's power system in all its glory but it wasn't exactly easy to understand even if you paid good attention while reading the manga.

First, Sukuna's vast knowledge of Jujutsu and cursed techniques. He correctly deduced that Yorozu would fall back on her constructed metal to perform an ultimate attack because her CE consumption is unbelievably high. Still, with one month of preparation and Kenjaku on his side, Sukuna was not able to think of an effective way to deal with Infinity.

He fell back on: the sure-hit of a Domain Expansion, the cool-down period of CTs after an expansion and Domain Amplification. The sure-hit was cancelled by Gojo's sure-hit, the cool-down period was drastically shortened with brain destruction, and DA, while effective in nullifying Infinity, did not leave room for aggressive attacks.

With all of this considered, Sukuna put his fight plan against Gojo on 1) winning a Domain Battle 2) Mahoraga 3) learning an effective attack against Gojo from Mahoraga. In the end, he needed this 3-fold plan to win but from what we know, he could've chosen a different path as well.

Mahoraga's adaptation works by starting after an enemy hit. When the wheel turns, the adaptation is in so much complete that Maho can now nullify or become immune to the enemy's CT. The process of the adaptation never truly stops though, as long as the enemy isn't defeated.

Mahoraga finds more and more ways to circumvent the CT it adapted to by evolving the adaptation. This process gets sped up the more it gets in contact with that same CT. At the end, Maho used 2 different ways to deal with Infinity.

By changing the properties of its Cursed Energy. This adaptation is not something that Sukuna can emulate

By evolving Sukuna's long-range attack. Instead of infusing that attack with the changed CE, Mahoraga expanded the target of the attack.

The second adaptation was the one that Sukuna - barely - was able to learn and use on his own.

(For the last half year, I've been writing a jjk/fire force crossover and of course I've thought about FF characters fighting against Gojo and if they could win. My conclusion: both Shinra and Sho Kusakabe can circumvent Infinity with their 4th generation pyrokinetic ignition ability. Sho by stopping time and Shinra by reforming his molecules at the point of impact with Gojo's body)

In addition to learning this evolved technique, Sukuna also made a positive miscalculation in chapter 234. There, he said that another Hollow Purple attack will be the end of him. This tidbit fooled the readers into thinking that at the end of ch235, Gojo truly won.

But actually, Sukuna made an error in his assessment that we could've caught before the release of ch236.

The first HP that Sukuna survived was at 200% power. Sukuna however thought that it was at 120%. In other words, he overestimated Gojo's power and wrongfully thought that he won't survive a second one of that. That was why he was so panicked when Gojo shot Red at Blue.

In numbers: let's say that Gojo's base HP attack is 100 points. His assisted attack by Gramps and Utahime was 200p. Sukuna thought that the 200p were 120% of Gojo's power, so his base HP attack would've been an overestimated 167p. Sukuna expected the next HP to have 200p again but it was only 120p, 67% weaker.

We could've actually caught this disparity when Sukuna made his miscalculation. I remember thinking how Sukuna hadn't realised that Gojo had help in the beginning but I didn't put more thought into it because I didn't think that there would be more. Huge mistake there.

The very last part in Gojo's defeat is about Gojo not reinforcing his body.

We had already seen Gojo survive Sukuna's slashing attacks, either by normal CE reinforcement (with moderate damage that he had to heal constantly) or with Falling Blossom Emotion that reduced the damage to a minimum.

With Infinity active, Mahoraga dead and Sukuna looking like he was defeated, Gojo didn't bother with reinforcing his body at that point. What did he have to fear without Mahoraga? He probably even saw Sukuna's attack and maybe he would've dodged or activated FBE if the cut had been aimed at his throat.

He didn't do anything and now his guts have made a painting on the ground.

Still, with the way Gojo was characterized in ch236 and how ch237 has omitted any reaction others should've had on Gojo's supposed death, I'm still of the opinion that our favorite teacher will come back.

[shnebrght]

☠ What does someone have to do for an instant unfollow from you?

♥ What's the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?

☀ What's your rp pet peeve?

❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?

@squaletta | salty af mun meme

☠ What does someone have to do for an instant unfollow from you?

There are numerous ways. But the most surefire is calling out my friends, or being generally disrespectful and mean. I've seen it before, we've all seen it before. It's not acceptable on my turf. I don't even care what the reason is; if someone's being unpleasant, I don't want them around. I'm too old to deal with RP drama.

♥ What's the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?

I know this is not a subject too widely accepted, but I also refuse to diminish from the weight it held on me even if it goes against the perceived wider opinion. It's no secret that Tumblr is home to many LGBTQ+ writers and users. I don't happen to be in that group, although I do very much support anyone doing whatever they want. I, am a straight, white man. And much like the reverse can happen, I've suffered Heterophobia and the cancellation of its very concept before. To me, if you can't admit that this is a thing, especially because I've been on its receiving end, you're ignoring a real problem to justify some glorified, flawed ideal. It's blatantly disrespectful, since if it was Homophobia or Transphobia, all hell would break loose.

Again, niche. But still an issue that I went through.

☀ What's your rp pet peeve?

Roleplaying in second person POV. I don't even mind first person POV, and the widely-accepted third person POV I'm obviously cool with. But second person POV RP just makes me cringe and, I can't even write with that. It's that bad. xD

❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?

Not so much 'someone' as much as 'everyone' did.

I cannot, for the life of me, look at any Hirunaka no Ryuusei and/or Horimiya FCs and not just get disheartened.

Look, I get it. The art is beautiful and the characters are too, on top of holding good emotional weight with the franchise's readers. But for the love of god -- those faces and appearances have to be the most basic-looking manga people I have ever seen. Ever.

In the context of super-powered fantasy series, I just... Can't really accept that this nobody-looking bunch is supposed to be on the same level as, or higher than, a majority of the canon cast. They just look so... Bland. Like "I'm sorry but I've seen that face at least a million times now." Suspension of disbelief only goes so far -- and I can no longer accept that Daiki Mamura, is a pyrokinetic, expert assassin that's 6'4" in the world of One Piece. Like... That's just unexceptional in the context of the world.

It doesn't mean I won't RP with OCs with those faceclaims, of course. I'm just, really biased and starting off as uninterested, at this point.