#(both before his defection and after his death.) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 ? ❞

❝ ALL THESE PEOPLE THINK LOVE'S FOR SHOW, BUT I WOULD DIE FOR YOU IN SECRET ! ❞

✧ pairing: suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: suguru's birthday spent with you is like a dream -- the perfect day spent in bliss, but what happens when the dream has to come to an end?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk compliant au (reader is a sorcerer), domesticity, cuddling, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), improper massage technique, some angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc / geto's defection),

✧ wc: 3,015

The first thing Suguru felt were fingertips brushing against his cheek.

“Morning, birthday boy,” you murmured, and his almost violet eyes fluttered still half within the grasp of the sandman, and it didn’t help you looked as if you were the thing of dreams — your body clad only in his white button down, hair askew from your late night with him, and eyes filled with utter love and devotion, “finally waking up? Because I have a whole day planned for you,”

His lips curl despite the sleep that weighed on his eyelids, a hum leaving his lips, as his fingers find you, even with his eyes closed — just as he always could, his fingers curling around your wrist, as he expertly tugged you and wrapped his arms around you. You were caged in around his limbs, pressed to his chest with barely any space to move, you’d be scared, if wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be.

You sigh, burying your face in his chest, lips brushing the skin of his bare chest, “Sugu, come on, we can’t laze all day, I have a nice breakfast planned, and we’re having lunch with Satoru, Shoko, and Nanami later, and I have a million other nice things planned — none of which we can do if you don’t get out of bed,”

“But you forgot something,” it’s his turn to sigh, as he shifts his face to rest against your neck, nose nearly tickling the skin there, as his lips press butterfly kisses, dotted like constellations along your neck and collarbone — as if he find the all the universe had to offer between the space of your neck and shoulder, “my favorite thing to do is right here,”

You roll your eyes at the innuendo, a knowing smirk on his lips, one you didn’t need to see to know it was there — it was done against your neck after all, “If I recall, we did plenty of your favorite thing last night, and it’s the reason you’re probably so tired right now,”

His fingers begin to toy with the buttons of his shirt that you’d stolen, “Well, they say you can never have too much of a good thing, after all,”

“Oh, is that so?” and his lips find yours again to swallow your next retort, his lips gliding against yours and he can taste the coffee you had just had, the bitter taste mixed with your sweet tongue, that flicked not so sweetly against the seam of his lips.

“You said I could have anything I want today,” he murmurs, beginning to undo the buttons one by one, as he revealed your body to his eyes — a twitch in his boxers as he realized you wore not a single thing underneath, “well right, all I want is you, for breakfast,”

Your cheeks burn, thighs pressed together, his words sending a rush of heat down to your still aching cunt, “Sugu—” but his lips find yours again, his fingers busy with teasing your nipples — rolling both between his pointer finger and thumb, “fuck, baby—”

“Gotta enjoy my meal baby,” his lips burn a trail of kisses down your body, his lips curling around your tit, his teeth grazing and teasing one and then the other, drawing a whimper from your lips, as he pulls his mouth away with a pop, “it’s the most important meal, and I have to start my birthday right, don’t I?”

And his hands drag down your sides, large calloused fingers squeezing your hips, as he lifts your legs to hook around his shoulders, his dark gaze devouring the sight of your pretty cunt glistening with your slick, before his mouth and tongue would.

His lips warm your outer lips, as his fingers tease your puffy little clit, pinching it, “Still swollen from last night,” his lips curl as you yelp in surprise, with a glare shot his way, that rolls into the back of your head as he buries his face in your sweet pussy. His nose grinds against your clit deliciously, as his tongue collects the pre already drenching you, humming at the taste — how was it that you were truly his favorite thing he tasted? You weren’t exactly sweet down there, but you were the only dessert he wanted (he’d leave the actual sugar to Satoru), “seems like you wanted this too by the way you’re leaking down here, my shirt and sheet is even wet,” he teases, making you cover your face in embarrassment, “don’t worry, sweetheart,” he smiles up at you with his slick covered lips and dripping chin, “I’ll clean you up.”

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Suguru says, but you only shake your head, meeting his gaze in the mirror, with a roll of your eyes.

“I want to do this for you,” as your fingers continue to comb his dark locks, finger twirling one strand between his fingers, “plus this is more for me than you, you never let me play with your hair at Jujutsu Tech,” you pouted, and he snorts.

“First, you said ‘play,’ not do, and second, do you forget the first and only time I let you, Shoko, and Satoru do my hair?” and you stifle a laugh, badly disguised as a cough, as you lips part to answer, “don’t lie, I know you guys use it as your group chat photo,”

“I only wanted to put clips and a scrunchie in your hair — dying your hair was all Satoru—” and his sharp look cuts you off, as you relent, before running your fingers through his hair, and easing another knot from his locks, “well isn’t this nice though?” and he nods, after your lips graze the edge of his hairline, “we’re almost done and you can tie your hair up after,” you hum.

“Do you like my long hair?” and he meets your curious gaze in your reflection, “I mean, i decided to grow it out after we graduated, but I was wondering if you ever thought I should cut it,”

You purse your lips, scrutinizing him in contemplation, “I love your hair either way, but you were always so meticulous about cutting it the same length, so why did you decide to grow it out?” His eyes fall to his lap, and he swallows, “you don’t have to—” you say softly, and his fingers find yours, squeezing.

“I want to,” he echoes, as he bites his lip, “I heard when I was a kid that hair holds memories, and ever since Amanai and Haibara…I don’t want to ever forget them,” and he toys with a strand between his fingers, “And by keeping my hair longer, it feels like I can hold onto that, onto them,” he says softly, and you nod, “I know it’s not logical—”

“Not everything has to be logical, not everything has to have a reason,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck, “sometimes things can just be a thing you do — but either way, if you cut your hair or keep it long, I don’t think you’ll ever forget those two, and neither would they — ever,” and he turns to meet your lips in a slow kiss, your fingers ghosting his cheek, before you finally part, “come on, get dressed, we’re going to be late.”

~~~~

“You told me he liked strawberry sponge and cream cake,” you punched Satoru in the shoulder, who takes it if only to appease you, with a pout, “you said that’s what he wanted this year, you blue eyed freak,”

“It is! How was I supposed to know he’d lie to me?”

“You know him for how many years and you can’t tell it was a lie?”

“You’re his partner, you don’t know what cake he likes—”

Suguru rubs his forehead, as you and Satoru continue to bicker, as he pulls a lighter out, and offers to light Shoko’s cigarette, as she leans on the windowsill of one of the open windows, “Those two never grow up do they?” and Suguru snorted, leaning against the wall next to her, facing the spectacle you and Satoru were making, “why did you say strawberry cake?”

“Because it’s both of their favorites,” his eyes slide to those two as Satoru used his infinity only to infuriate you, “I always had thought those two would have made a better match,”

He feels Shoko’s eyes slide to him, “She loves you, not Satoru,” and his eyes find yours, just as they always did, and you smile the one smile he always hoped would be reserved for only him.

“I know.”

“Did we have to stay that long?” Suguru sighs, pulling off his jacket, “who slipped alcohol into Satoru’s plastic cup anyway?” and your pause gives it away, as he glances at you, pulling off your shoes, “sweetheart, you know he can’t handle his alcohol,”

“Well someone should’ve handled their job right then,” and he laughs, as he walks over to wrap his arms around you, as you grumble, “you ask Mr. Six Eyes to do something — and he can’t even see through a lie, so are we really buying that he actually has them—”

And his lips find yours again, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull you closer, “I believe you owe me a present still,” he kisses down your neck, and he feels you melt into his touch, your fingers splaying on his shoulders, “and I know exactly what I want,”

“Well, I may have gotten you something a little different,” your lips curl.

“A massage?” he raises an eyebrow, as you strip him down to his boxers on the bed, a few towels underneath him as you warmed the massage oil with your hands. He heard the squish and squelch of your fingers, and he felt his dick twitch, the noise sounding like something else.

“You don’t relax enough, this way, I can help you relax a little,” you hum, as you stand beside him, “can I start?” and he bites his lip, but nods.

“Go ahead, princess,” and you do — Suguru didn’t realize how many knots he had in his back, the muscles stiff and immovable at first, until you begin to work away at the bundles of stress he had accumulated. A moan slips from his lips as he feels the stress ebb away, a blush burning up his cheeks, “Sorry,”

“No complaints here, baby,” you giggle. God, he was so fucking hot like this. His muscles were glistening with the oil, each muscle becoming more relaxed under your touch, the little grunts and groans that left his lips left another knot, but this one was in your cunt.

Suguru couldn’t help let these moans escape his lips, you were making him feel so good, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to move after this, his body far too limp. Or so he thought. Your hands were traveling lower and lower, until they brushed against the waistband of his boxers, and he shivers, “Sweetheart,”

“What? You carry stress here too, and as your masseuse, I have to do a good job right?” you hum, “as long as my client permits me,”

And he bites his lip, “I’ll permit anything from you, baby,”

You don’t need any more words, as your fingers pull at the boxers, tugging the fabric down to reveal his ass, your fingers first ghosting over the flesh teasingly, before beginning to massage it.

Fuck, now he was fully hard, his dick rubbing against the mattress — thank god you put down towels — as you worked out the knots in his gluteus muscle, but he didn’t know if you were helping him relax or not, because he never had felt more stiff. And it doesn’t escape your notice.

You hum, “Maybe we need a different method,” your finger traces up and down your spine, “would my client mind turning over for me?”

“Princess—”

“Just one more thing to help you relax,” and he relents, turning over, to reveal the tent in his boxers, still drawn over his front, and your eyes fall to his cock, “and I see where all the stress has gone,” you tsk, as you climb onto the bed, straddling his waist, drawing a gasp from his lips, “poor baby, all worked up still?” Your fingers traces his clothed head, a large wet patch that assuredly wasn’t massage oil, “I think I can relax you.”

He’s biting his lip as he watches you tug down his boxers, fabric dragging against his erection as you do, slapping against his stomach, “Sweetheart—“

“Just let me do this for you, baby,” you murmur as you clean your hands with a rag and instead smear the beads of precum along his length, drawing a groan from his lips, “so sensitive for me, Sugu, been wanting me since morning haven’t you?” You hum, as you begin to work his cock with your hand, lips leaning down to press a kiss to his weeping tip, “it’s only fair if I get to taste you too — after all, I may have been your breakfast, but you’re my dessert,”

And your lips wrap around his length, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, and tasting his salty precum. He groans, the noise burning a trail to your cunt, “s’good for me,” you murmured against him, as you took as much of him as you could, taking the rest in your hands.

His fingers weave into your hair, hips lightly bucking into your mouth, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, and you manage to suppress your gag reflex, “shit, sorry—“ but you cut off his apology by licking a thick stripe up one of his veins, before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, “fuck, Princess, I’m close—I—“ and your fingers toy with his balls and your mouth redoubles his efforts, until he’s cumming down your throat with your name on his lips, his thick load painting your mouth and throat, as you swallow it eagerly.

He flutter open, only to watch you pull your swollen lips from his length, strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his cock, before you wipe it away, “don’t worry baby,” you lean down to lick the beads of cum dripping from his tip, his hips jerking, “I’ll clean you up,”

And after you get him all cleaned up, the two of you are in bed again, tucked up next to each other — Suguru was completely boneless, as you climb into bed beside him, “you okay baby?”

He nods, smile on his lips, “More than okay after that,” he murmurs, lips finding yours, and then he pulls away with a pause, “but I didn’t get you off, baby,” and his forehead furrows as you chuckle.

“Worry about that tomorrow, baby. I think you need some sleep now,” you crawl into his arms, your head pressed against his chest, you were so warm pressed against him, “got all I need right here,” you murmur, before you ask, “did you have a good birthday?”

“I always do,” his fingers graze your cheek, as his eyes flutter shut, “always when I’m with you, Princess,”

The first thing he feels, again, are soft fingers against his cheek, his eyes heavy with sleep, flutter open, as his brain catches with his body.

“Master Geto? Master Geto?” His eyes finally flutter open to find Nanako and Mimiko at his bedside.

He rubs at his eyes, as he stares at a ceiling for a moment, as he lets the haunting feel of your body slip from him — for a moment, he had let himself believe it was real — that you were with him, that he was still with you — all of you.

“Happy Birthday, Master Geto,” they both intone together, and his gaze slides back to find the girls’ holding a birthday cake box. He blinks a moment, before he realizes.

“Thank you both,” he sigh, sitting up, and even though he knows, he asks the question anyway, “it was left at the doorstep of the compound?”

“Yes, the same one, the one that’s always left for you,” Mimiko answers as Nanako hands him the box, and he slips off the twine and opens the box to reveal a strawberry and cream sponge cake, “I didn’t know Master Geto even liked strawberry cake,”

And he chuckles, as he stares at the cske, the residuals unbidden and clear as day who had left it — who had always left it, “I don’t but it was the favorite of two people very important to me before — you know I don’t care for sweets,”

“I thought you didn’t care for sweets made by monkeys,” Nanako said, typing on her phone, before she snaps a picture or two of the cake, “why is this an exception?”

“Because one of those special people baked it, and she’s a sorcerer,” and you always had — every year without fail. He didn’t even know how you had found him — he didn’t tend to stay in one place for too long, but you always did.

As he lifts the cske out and hands it to the girls, “go slice it up and have a piece,” he smiles, “I’ll take care of the box,” and they nod, as Mimiko takes the cake while Nanako walks out staring at her phone still.

It wasn’t the cake that he found special, but the card that was hidden at the bottom. It was nothing special — always a random card picked out with a birthday message printed on the outside — but no, what was special was the note you wrote.

My favorite treat for my favorite birthday boy — I hope you have a good birthday — with your name signed below.

His fingers twirled a strand of his hair, still far too long, as he traced your name with his finger. He hadn’t had a really good birthday — not without you.

But, he opened the drawer of his bedside table, placing the card inside with the others, at least he could dream of one.

✧ a/n: i've been hopping between my sukuna fic and prof geto 3, but i was bouncing back and forth between whether i wanted to write this or not, but i just had to for suguru - man has claimed a sweet spot. thank you to the anon who's idea i put on a spin on and @biancaness, who provided the massage idea :). this is also for @gaylatteart because their birthday is tomorrow, the day after suguru's. thank you bb for being so wonderful and congrats on doing the thing - i'm super proud of you!!

✧ taglist: @foxygemin1, @honeyangelsblog, @biancaness, @rwtard, @strangehuman101, @serendididy, @i-love-the8, @ririthedevil, @linastired, @bsaeshell, @jaceum, @going-to-californiaxx, @dontshuugo, @diogodxlot, @coffeebun17, @slikdolliy, @spider-fan72, @sophistication-as, @get0sfav, @klynne, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @heijihattorisgf, @teatreeoilll, @el172736738, @nem0philistx, @strawmariee, @mysuperrainbow

#sab [mlist]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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rnelodyy · 1 year

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The Owl House And Restorative Justice

At the end of Season 1 of The Owl House, it is revealed that Lilith, the main overarching antagonist of that season, was the one to curse her sister Eda, one of the protagonists, to win a tournament when they were teenagers. This information causes Eda to fly into a screaming rage and attack Lilith, and understandably so.

Eda’s curse is essentially a chronic illness, one that, in Eda’s own words, has ruined her life, being the reason she’s considered a social outcast and why, before meeting King and Luz, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone in years. In season 2, it’s revealed that the curse is why she pushed away her partner Raine to the point that they broke it off with her, and that during a particularly bad flareup, she accidentally maimed her own father, leaving him half blind and with permanent nerve damage to his hands, making him unable to continue working as a Palisman carver. The curse has ruled Eda’s life for decades now, so to Eda, this is the ultimate betrayal.

In the first episode of Season 2, Lilith has defected from the Emperor’s Coven, split the curse between Eda and herself to mitigate the symptoms for her sister, and has moved in with Eda at the Owl House. While Lilith herself still feels guilty and feels she has to make it up to Eda, everyone else, Eda included, has seemingly either forgiven her or chosen to look past it. Eda even makes fun of her for feeling bad about cursing her, and Lilith’s guilt is seemingly absent for the rest of the series.

The response to this was… Less than stellar, shall we say. A lot of people were angry, saying Lilith got away with her crimes without even a slap on the wrist, and that Eda’s forgiveness of her was far too sudden.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this kind of critique. Amity spent years bullying Willow after her parents forced her to break off their friendship, and when she began trying to mend that relationship, the response from fans was that Willow should have been a lot more angry at Amity, and that they went back to being besties far too soon. I’ve even seen this criticism leveled at Hunter for the things he did while working for Belos, at Vee for impersonating Luz for months to trick her mother, and at Luz for hiding the fact that she helped Philip find the Collector from her friends. And it does seem strange for the show to keep tripping on this same point again and again.

Except, it’s not really. Because I think that, when viewing this show from a different angle, those supposed flaws are actually symptoms of something very important to understand – The Owl House operates on a system of crime and punishment that is very different from our world’s.

More specifically, our world mostly utilizes retributive justice. The world of The Owl House utilizes restorative justice.

So first, what do those terms mean? Broadly, they’re two different forms of handling interpersonal disputes, or dealing with crime.

Retributive justice is the one our current justice system uses, where the focus is primarily on punishing the perpetrator. Retributive justice can mean detention, suspension, expulsion, jail time, monetary fines, some kinds of community service, exile, or in more severe cases, corporal punishment or the death penalty. It’s the lens most people view the world through, where if someone hurts you, hurting them back is the correct response.

Restorative justice is a very different approach, where you instead focus on helping the victim recover from what happened, and rehabilitating the perpetrator to prevent this from happening again. Restorative justice can look like verbal or written apologies, monetary compensation for costs and trauma, therapy for both victim and perpetrator, education for the perpetrator, mediation between victim and perpetrator, a restraining order, etc.

When viewed through a retributive lens, The Owl House lets its characters get away with a lot of shit. Lilith cursing Eda, Hunter rounding up Palismen knowing they’ll be killed, Amity tormenting Willow for years, it’s all stuff that, in a retributive environment, they should be punished for, and they’re just not. Eda is only genuinely angry at Lilith for two scenes, Amity and Willow fix their relationship very quickly once Amity starts making amends, and Hunter isn’t punished at all.

However, I believe the story of The Owl House is best viewed not through a retributive lens, but through a restorative lens.

Let’s look at the Lilith-example again. Lilith’s offense was cursing Eda, which she did because she wanted to win a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Knowing Eda was better than her, she cast a curse on her, thinking it would only last for a day. But when the time came, Eda forfeited the match, soon after which she transformed into the Owl Beast and was pelted with rocks until she ran. The curse turned out to be very permanent, and Lilith spent the next 20 years trying to fix her mistake by working for Belos to try to capture Eda, since he promised to heal her curse.

However, when she finally succeeded, Belos went back on his promise. Instead of healing Eda, he ordered her to be publicly executed. When Lilith protested, Belos essentially told her to shut up, that it was the Titan’s will, and left her there.

So, having realized her method of fixing her mistake has gone real bad, Lilith sneaks down to the Conformatorium to free Eda herself, but arrives too late and finds Luz instead. After a brief fight they end up teaming up, and Lilith leads Luz to the elevator, but they are captured by Belos and Lilith is thrown into the cage with Eda. There, she restores Eda’s partially petrified body, and after fleeing with her, Luz and King, uses a spell to split Eda’s curse evenly between their two bodies.

From a restorative justice point of view, Lilith has done pretty much everything she reasonably could do to fix things. She’s denounced the Emperor’s Coven, returned Owlbert to Luz, helped Luz find the elevator to the execution platform, saved Eda from petrification, apologized to Eda, and while there’s no way for her to cure Eda’s curse entirely, she took on half of the curse at great expense to her own health, in order to ease Eda’s symptoms.

Eda isn’t angry anymore because in her eyes, Lilith has already fixed things with her. Punishing her more at this point is pointless. What more could Lilith do, really? What other lessons could she learn? The only thing that punishment would bring at this point would be more suffering.

Let’s look at another example: Amity and Willow.

Amity’s offense was breaking off her friendship with Willow because she was a late-bloomer, bullying her for years, and allowing her friends to do so too. Willow is left with horrible self-esteem issues because of this, and combined with her failing grades, turned her into a horribly shy and withdrawn wallflower (no pun intended). After she’s moved to the plant track she starts actually getting better, but Amity and Boscha especially continue to torment her. While Amity’s bullying of Willow does peter out over time, Willow is clearly still extremely resentful of her. In an attempt to make Willow forget their friendship, Amity accidentally sets most of Willow’s memories on fire, leaving her confused, amnesiac, and unable to grasp basic concepts like that chairs are for sitting in.

Luz pushed Amity into fixing Willow’s brain by going into her mind together and piecing her memories back together. There, the Inner Willow revealed what happened to Luz and the audience.

At this point, Amity shows her that her parents were actually the ones who forced her to end the friendship because they didn’t think Willow was a suitably powerful or influential friend, threatening to make sure Willow would never get accepted into Hexside if Amity didn’t force her to leave. Amity then apologizes to Willow for going along with it, and for the bullying, and vows to make sure her friends never mess with Willow again.

Willow accepts her apology, but also makes it clear that, while it’s a start, she’s not yet ready to accept Amity in her life again. Restorative justice has not been fully attained, because to Willow, Amity hasn’t fixed everything – Boscha and her squad are still bullying her, and still consider Amity one of them. This changes two episodes later, when Amity tells Boscha to grow the fuck up when she starts bullying Willow again, and joins her and Luz’s Grudgby team despite her personal issues to get Boscha to back off. Willow doesn’t make a grand gesture of forgiveness in this episode, but it is after this point where the two become comfortable around eachother again.

Did Willow forgive Amity too quickly for years of trauma? Maybe. If she had chosen to continue keeping Amity at a distance I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her. But in the end, Amity fixed the mess she caused as best she could, and has proven herself to want to be a better person, to want to be Willow’s friend again. She worked hard to prove herself to be a person worth trusting, and Willow decided to give that trust a chance again.

And while they did become friends again, that friendship was clearly still affected by what happened, which led to bumps that the two of them had to work through. Like in Labyrinth Runners, where Amity’s overprotectiveness over Willow makes Willow feel like Amity thinks she’s incompetent, and still only sees her as the helpless person she used to be.

Willow continuing to be mad at Amity and punishing her for what she did wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction, but it wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would certainly have an impact on Amity, seeing her former best friend rejecting her attempts to make up for what she did, but the hurt on both sides would have continued festering, because deep down, Willow missed Amity too.

In Hunter’s case, there’s the question of whether he can even be held responsible for his actions. The Palisman-kidnapping in specific was explicitly done under duress – if he failed he would face verbal and physical abuse, and be threatened with his nightmare scenario: getting thrown out of the Emperor’s Coven.

And that’s not an empty threat either. Hunter has no magic, and Belos has drilled it into him that witches without magic have no future. Without the Emperor’s Coven, his only future prospects would be starving to death on the streets or wasting away in prison. Either way, Hunter would be alone, without family or friends, without a job or job prospects, without anyone to turn to for help. Any child would be terrified of that. Hunter wasn’t always acting on direct orders – in fact he defied direct orders to stay in his room in Eclipse Lake to go look for Titan’s Blood, and then again in Hollow Mind to arrest the rebels. But he made those choices based on the idea that Belos wouldn’t want him if he was a failure, and that he needed a chance to prove that he could still be useful.

And contrary to popular belief, Hunter does know right from wrong. He has a very strong moral compass, he’s just been forced to ignore it in favor of doing whatever the Emperor wants. To shut up that little voice telling him he’s doing the wrong thing, he uses what’s called a thought-terminating cliche, a statement that feels so fundamentally true that the argument need not continue. In Hunter’s case, that statement is “It’s for the greater good.” Sure, kidnapping his new friends and abducting Palismen to feed to the Emperor and threatening someone who’s been nothing but kind to him to take the portal key from her girlfriend and justifying terrorism makes his stomach feel like he swallowed a cactus and saying it out loud makes him sound like a horrible person – but it’s for the greater good. He’s doing it to serve Belos, and Belos knows what’s best.

So by the time Hunter is out of active danger and able to rest and recover from what happened to him… what would further punishment accomplish? He already knows that he did fucked up shit while working for the EC, and he’s proven time and time again that while he’s not fighting for Belos’s approval, he’s actually a genuinely kind-hearted kid. Punishing him now would likely cause him to react very poorly, because he’s been at the wrong end of that stick so often that he’s developed severe PTSD because of it.

And if you think restorative justice is still in order – Hunter is currently hyperfixated on making sure Belos can never hurt anyone again, and for the long term, he has expressed that he wants to become a Palisman carver when he grows up. While it won’t bring back the Palismen that were killed, it will help the current Palisman population recover and reintroduce Palismen to witches who may have had to give up theirs.

When viewed through this lens, the writing of The Owl House starts to make more sense. As a show, it is extremely forgiving towards its characters – they’re still held accountable for their actions, but as long as they’re willing to grow and learn and fix the damage they caused, they are very quickly forgiven.

However, I do understand why these writing choices can be… controversial, so to say. Because it doesn’t feel very satisfying, does it? When someone hurts you on purpose, your first impulse would be to try to hurt them back, that’s just how people work.

That’s the hardest thing to come to terms with when you become an advocate for prison abolition for example – you’re not just arguing for freeing a guy who got 5 years because a cop found weed in his pockets, you’re arguing for the release, and most importantly, the humanity of some of the most vile, disgusting people this planet has ever produced. Even now, when someone commits a truly awful crime and gets sent to prison for life, my first thought is “Good, I hope they rot in there.” But that’s not justice. That’s just revenge. And revenge is not something we as a society should want to build our justice system on.

It’s not satisfying to see Lilith go from using Luz as a human shield in her fight against Eda to sleeping on the couch in Eda’s house within 2 episodes. It’s not satisfying to see Willow let Amity back into her life when Amity has hurt her so badly before, or to see Hunter become romantically involved with Willow after he literally abducted her the first time they met. But that satisfaction isn’t really the point. Revenge is satisfying in the moment, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and if someone shows a genuine willingness to change, it’s often better to give them a chance to.

However, my final point is about what happens when this approach fails. Because not everyone is willing to change. Some people, when faced with the consequences of their actions, decide to dig their heels in and refuse to admit fault, or blame the victim(s), or use those same thought-terminating cliches that Hunter used to justify their actions, “I was just following orders” being a big one.

And thus, we come to Belos.

If Belos showed a willingness to change, a genuine one, not an attempt at manipulation, should he be given the chance to? That vengeful part of me is VERY empathetically saying no. But logically, reasonably, he should be given that chance, if only because he’s a human being and no human being deserves to be mistreated. That doesn’t mean his victims are obligated to forgive him or be around him again, in fact I think that, for the sake of Hunter’s mental health, Belos should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. But he should be given the chance to start over, to truly better himself and do something good with the rest of his life.

But Belos isn’t willing to change.

Belos is a product of a bad environment and grew up with a cult-like mentality and hatred for witches that he had to adopt for his own safety. It’s hard to break out of that mentality, but not impossible. Case in point: Caleb. The tragedy of Belos’s character to me is that he had so many chances to change, so many people to help him make that leap, but all of the people who offered him that help ended up dead by his hands because he couldn’t handle the idea that he may have been wrong.

At this point, Belos is stuck. Changing would mean not only giving up on his life’s work, but acknowledging to himself that everything he’s done, mutilating his body, killing his brother, slaughtering thousands and installing himself as God-Emperor of a population he despises more than anything in order to facilitate a genocide, was completely pointless.

He can’t admit that to himself. Especially the thing about Caleb’s death. He’s sunk-cost-fallacied himself so far into a corner that all he can really do when faced with opposing viewpoints is dig his heels in even deeper and lash out in a rage at anyone who challenges him. Even now, when his body is literally falling apart at the seams, he’s still trying to commit witch-genocide, because it’s all he has.

Restorative justice doesn’t work in this case, because the perpetrator needs to be receptive to it. Logically you would assume the show would default to retributive justice, and characters like Willow and Camila do take a very vengeful glee in imagining themselves beating the snot out of Belos. But right now, the primary motivation of the Hexsquad and Hunter in particular when it comes to Belos is to end the threat he poses. As long as Belos is alive and free, he will continue to hurt and kill people, and if he can’t be talked down, he needs to be either contained or killed to prevent him from causing more harm.

The Owl House provides, in my opinion, a very nuanced take on restorative justice. It shows how it works in action, how different situations impact what it looks like, and what happens when it’s simply not an option. It’s not the most satisfying story to tell your audience, because when someone hurts our babies we want them to suffer, no matter how sorry they say they are. But in this case, I think that sacrificing that bit of audience comfort is worth it to tell the story like this.

#the owl house #the owl house meta #toh meta #toh lilith #toh amity #toh hunter #toh belos

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singingcicadas · 5 months

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The beginning of the Decepticons according to Megatron:

The beginning of the Decepticons What Actually Happened:

That it could ever be called a revolution of the oppressed is a joke. Megatron's philosophy is purely pugno ergo sum. I fight, therefore I am. His first recruitment speech was a promise for power, made to the most bloodthirsty audience he could dig up from the dregs of society. Those people were there because they thrived off the bloodsport. They wanted audition to join Megatron in the pits. Megatron offered them something even better: turn the entire planet into our gladiatorial arena, and we take.

Ever since the beginning Megatron viewed the Decepticons as nothing but a tool, to be used and thrown away. He wanted them to be as ruthless as possible in order to wipe out all opposition, but once his end goal's achieved, well, there's no place for ruthlessness in a perfect society under his absolute control. Therefore, remodelling and recreating. It doesn't sound like he wants to rule over actual people with individual personalities, he wants a bunch of mindless drones programmed for obeisance and peace and hardcoded to Do What Megatron Says.

Ravage and Tarn. It's interesting how they both use the word "emancipated" when lauding Megatron's accomplishments, when it's clear that Megatron did so for the practical purpose of bulking up his army. He overthrew those in power because he wanted to be the one in power. The only one. The people he "emancipated" were just exchanging one set of shackles for another, as they had no choice other than to join the Decepticon army. Not fighting was not an option. Cowardice was punishable by traitor's wheel. Going neutral was also not an option. Soundwave had specific anti-neutral pogroms for those.

I wonder if they knew what "the Megatron they loved" had in mind for the Decepticons after they won the war. The remodeling and recreating. Or maybe they thought that's just for the lowly genericons. That they would be exempt from such treatment because they were confident of their privileged places at Megatron's side. After all, if you're rooting for someone whose motto is peace through tyranny, you'd do so with the expectation that it's only Other People who are going to get tyrannized.

It's true that he did rise against an oppressive government, despite it being the goal to replace it with himself as the tyrant.

But he also thought the single admirable quality about Zeta was his ruthlessness. As in trying to kill an entire city of his own people to fuel his vamparc ribbon. And he said that in front of Hot Rod, who was forced to bomb his own city to stop Zeta from winning. Even disregarding the twisted values here, this is still fifteen levels up the insensitivity lane. No wonder Hot Rod didn't want to join up.

Torture's for fun and domination. It takes a special kind of sadistic streak. And this is before the war even officially started.

Thundercracker's view on the Decepticon cause, when he defected to save humans from the nuke:

"Everything we have done here" - Just here? He'd either been living under a rock for the entirety of the war or has some serious misunderstandings about what the Decepticon name is.

Or just been willfully blind for four million years and the deaths of a hundred billion lifeforms until the day he decided to grow a conscience. Same with Soundwave.

Tarn's a really good case study because he's the poster boy of Megatron's Decepticon propaganda. Megatron probably spoonfeeds him the stuff by the gigabytes and he regurgitates them with twice the zeal and tenfold the pretentiousness. He's also the embodiment of the vices and tragedy of the Decepticons as a whole, as created by Megatron. A sadistic hypocrite, a glorified thug, a delusional fanatic, a customized tool for use and dispose. Crippled by the blinkering desire to be superior, to be part of a greater cause.

Megatron cares nothing for Tarn, just like how he cares nothing for the Decepticons. During the war they were a means to an end. After Megatron's defection, their "toxic loyalty" became a personal burden, a blemish from his past that he would like to cast aside and move on from but annoyingly refuse to leave him alone.

The road-sweepers and the haulers. The miners. What were they to Megatron during the war? Disposable cannon fodder. A pretty banner to hide behind. For a movement that likes to justify itself as a revolution of the oppressed, the emancipation of the disenfranchised, there's certainly a distinct lack of those classes among the upper Decepticon ranks. Megatron said in his recruitment speech that he wanted strength and power. Then where did that leave the weak and sick, the empties on the streets?

Nowhere but the smelting pool, to be recycled into something useful for the great Decepticon cause. They should be honoured, really.

Freedom fighters? No, freedom won't be missed. Probably has something to do with the remodelling and recreating part.

Starscream's only partially right. It was absolutely Megatron's intent to tap into that well of rage and resentment, and he meant for the riot to happen. Of course it got away from him in the end - that's what happens when you cobble an army out of bloodthirsty power-hungry degenerates, half of which were on board for the violence, half for their own scheming agendas, and the rest stitched together by charisma and fear - but he'd shaped the events enough to come a hairsbreadth away from winning multiple times. People like Shockwave and Scorponok were treacherous, but they weren't the reason that Megatron lost the war.

It was his own blind arrogance that led to his downfall.

No he didn't lose his way. He's exactly where he set himself out to be, from the moment he gave that speech in the arena. Perhaps even earlier, to that gradual slide when killing his opponent in a match no longer felt like a guilty burden but instead brought him the sweet rush of satisfaction. There was no revolution. There was no righteous cause. There was no for the people and never has been, because he did not care about other people. Four million years and countless deaths, and it was only really about one insanely self-centered person and his deluded ambition of peace through tyranny.

Hence his breakdown, because he'd just been hit in the face with the realization that he was Wrong. And has been wrong for the past four million years. He wasted everyone's lives. He wasted his own life, wasted it on anger and destruction and hatred, with nothing but regrets to show for it.

I believe that Megatron believed he's telling the truth here. I believe that he meant every word he said, except for that one "we" on the second last line.

Because that "we" should really be "me".

The Megatron who wrote about pacifist rhetoric, who was compassionate enough to share his fuel with the injured, who cared about others and had genuine friendships, that Megatron died a long time ago in the pits. Ever since then, every murder, every atrocity he'd committed in the name of "the people" was just facist rationalization.

I'm sure that he likes the sound of "emancipation of the people" or "freedom of choice" as a concept. But when it comes down to individual people? With actual, real choices that conflicts with his desire for absolute rule? Nope. He's the only one who should get to make choices. The only one who should have choices. Because he knows best.

Form dictates your function ❌; Megatron dictates your function ✅

Function dictates your fate ❌; Megatron dictates your fate ✅

Great minds must think alike, because Megatron and the Functionalist council in the Functionalist universe did a lot of the same stuff. Massacring the Senate. Recycling people who are deemed useless burdens. Remodelling and recreating. Imperalism and genociding organics. Killing all dissenters. The Functionalists even got pretty close to Megatron's ideal of peace through tyranny with 99% of the planet fitted with brain bombs and kissing the ground at their feet. They even managed to do it while maintaining a habitable planet and full population. And Megatron took one look and was disgusted.

Megatron wasn't a misunderstood revolutionist who had his heart in the right place when he started his war. The Decepticons didn't start out well-meaning and turned bad somewhere along the way. At no point in their movement were they ever true freedom fighters. They were always Facists, through and through. They were worse than the Functionalists they hated and the Senate they overthrew. And it's important to acknowledge this because (other than it's weird to see such an obvious Facist analogy being associated with freedom fighters) otherwise you don't get the whole depth of Megatron's redemption arc, especially in the Functionalist universe.

Like the impact of this scene wouldn't be fully apparant unless you take into account that when Megatron first formed the Decepticons, all he cared about was their fighting strength. He did not care about his troops, he did not care about individual people. He considered himself above everyone and everything. He would have sneered at such a weak, ineffective form of protest. Now he's actually being supportive and seeing people as people, instead of pawns to be used.

Here he's genuinely happy to see the Decepticons, even those in the very bottom of the pecking order, taking enough care to greet them each by name. And also Fulcrum, who he sentenced to death twice.

For once in his life he's actually trying to do the Right Thing instead of focusing on himself, either on his ambitions or his remorse. The people in the Functionalist universe have nothing to do with him, yet he wants to help anyway. And he's finally appreciating the value of self-determination for what it is, instead of trying to twist it to serve his own purposes or turn it into Megatron-determination.

"No one can decide how you live your life except for you." Back before, he was going to remodel his entire army to achieve his peace through tyranny. Autonomy and free will were considered things that won't be missed.

Megatron learned to care about other people! Peace through empathy is such a groundbreaking step for his character because he used to have no empathy! He stayed true to his ideals for eight centuries despite the hardships, despite his personal losses, despite the AVL being driven to near extinction and not knowing if he would ever return to his own universe. During all those years he could have had ten million chances and excuses to break his vow of pacifism or leave on the Last Light, taking the easy way out, and there would have been no one to stop him.

But he didn’t.

#transformers #idw transformers #maccadam #megatron #also he tossed his Decepticons out the back door at first chance in exchange for his freedom and legacy #the trial on Luna 2 #his frowny face when reading the surrender speech wasn’t for letting the Decepticons down it was for his own humiliation

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crosshairlovebot · 25 days

Text

enclosed intentions / crosshair gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: amid your growing feelings for the silver-haired sniper, you and crosshair are paired together on a mission that goes awry, which brings to light intentions you've been aching to know.

word count: 9,934 (pHEW!!)

warnings: near-death experience (everyone lives). landslide. heavy storms. enclosed spaces. minor injury. minor injury description. making out. light angst.

been wanting to write another crosshair fic for a while bc he's my GUY and i love him!!! season 3 is only fuelling the burning fire he stokes in my chest. i hope you enjoy this! strap in! it's a long one! (sorry if there are any errors, i've edited this but it's so long it's entirely possible that i missed some <3)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

More often than not, Clone Force 99 was sent on dangerous missions – missions too specialised for the regular battalions and squads that filled the Grand Army of the Republic. The missions that troubled Jedi Generals regarding the potential loss of men. But Clone Force 99 and their specialised skills took on those missions with ease, enthusiasm even.

You were about to embark on another one of those missions.

When you’d first joined the GAR as a medic, you’d heard rumours about the squad of defective clones and their enhanced skills, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by their reportedly unbroken mission success.

When Echo walked into your medbay after he’d been rescued from Skako Minor and you were the first to check over him – making him feel comfortable after years of prodding and inhumane treatment – it only made sense for you to join the team as a field medic to continue to treat him and the other members of the squad.

Though they were initially dubious of the idea of a nat-born joining their ranks, they had always been a misfit crew – you were only another addition to that, and it wasn’t long before your presence with the squad felt like being at home.

You got on with each of the members well, even if they grumbled and complained about your regularly scheduled medical check-ups after missions.

Tech was a great help in collating the medical files he’d made from when he acted as the informal medic. You joked along with Wrecker, who often used you as an alternate barbell, lifting you over his head to warm up before a mission. Hunter often conferred with you before mission briefings to go over any hazards that could harm them. Echo was probably your strongest bond, the trust that existed between you both created a level of closeness not shared with the other members of the squad.

But Crosshair…

You’d soon discovered that Crosshair was weary of anyone who wasn’t part of his immediate family, and you joining Clone Force 99 – and in such constant close quarters, meant your relationship with the sharpshooter was a little more distant than the others.

You tried not to let it bother you so much, but it was hard when you were joking with Wrecker, and you could feel Crosshair’s discerning enhanced eyes on you. You often ignored his gaze as best you could, but sometimes you would look over at him, and hold his eyes for a moment before he got up and walked away.

You wish you knew what those looks meant. You would lay in your bunk at night, and think about it, trying to piece together any patterns and figure out why Crosshair’s eyes never seemed to truly leave you.

Despite the distance between you both, it didn’t deter your intrigue about him. There was something about him that drew your attentions towards him.

If you didn’t feel his eyes on you, your eyes would find him. He was so fascinating to watch. Everything he did, he did with purpose; intention. Nothing about Crosshair was insignificant. Every word, every gesture, every look held meaning. You liked trying to figure it out, but you had yet to decipher much of it – especially when it was directed at you. He was like a puzzle that didn’t want to be solved, hiding all his answers in disappearing ink, you had to hold him up to the light to try and unravel him. You wished he would let you, but his terse demeanour kept you at bay - not wanting to disturb what balance you had.

So you were content to watch him from a distance. He was methodical about everything. Cleaning his rifle the same way after every mission, never missing a step, always performing each of them in the same order. His armour went on the same way. You would watch how his toothpicks would always dangle from his lips as he cleaned his prized weapon, and you would almost be hypnotised by the way he moved the wooden stick between his teeth. You spent so much time staring at his mouth, that you could probably draw it from memory.

He was magnetising.

Whenever you needed to perform a medical check on him, you would do so quietly and draw it out, as if trying to soak up every moment of the closeness to him, catalogue it all.

When it came to checking his hands, you would gently hold them in your palms and gently massage the joints that could get cramped from holding the rifle tightly. You would check the nerves with a light prick on each fingertip and around the palm. Those examinations were so tense, his eyes on you the entire time watching your every move in the tiny medbay on the Marauder. You could barely focus in that room, there was nowhere to hide from his sharp eyes. And when you dared meet his gaze, his eyes would hold yours in a way that left you breathless and you were never able to look him in the eyes for very long. They’d look right into yours, an expression dancing in them you could never place.

But he never said anything to you – not unless you asked him a question about pain. But you’d think about each interaction for days afterwards.

Your silent exchanges filled your head at night, spilling over into your dreams. Dreams where those hands you’d just inspected in the waking world would be holding you tightly, that mouth you’d stared at brushing against your cheek and neck, whispering things you pretended not to remember once you woke. You’d wake up from those dreams confused, still feeling the ghost of his touches on you. It didn’t hit you until several dreams later that that initial intrigue had given way to feelings much deeper; to an intense crush that only seemed to build the longer you spent with Clone Force 99.

If anyone else noticed, they never said anything. You carried on as normal and hoped Hunter’s heightened senses didn’t pick up on the way your face heated or your heartbeat increased when Crosshair was near.

Except the silence between you broke a few days ago.

After the last mission, you were scheduled to do the weekly checks on the squad. You always left Crosshair until last, knowing he liked to clean his rifle as soon as the mission debrief was over. When you called him into the tiny room, he sat down on the bench, and you completed the first part of the check-up smoothly.

It was when you were massaging one of his hands, loosening the stiffness with your own fingers, that you felt his close around yours.

You had stilled and slowly looked up at him. His brown-eyed gaze met yours and you felt the air get sucked out of your lungs. You watched his eyes flick between yours, his throat working as his fingers were warm around yours. He was holding your hand, and it was warm and strong despite its slenderness. It was such an innocent gesture, and yet the sensation of his touch made your face burn and heat unfurl in your chest as your feelings for the sniper were unleashed in full force. You didn’t know what to do, but you would be lying if you didn’t like the feel of his fingers around yours. But this was Crosshair – the Crosshair who barely spoke to you, who watched you like he was analysing your every move.

“A-am I hurting you?” you managed to stammer out.

Crosshair blinked, seemingly jolting himself out of a trance and pulled his hands away roughly, frowning. “No.” His voice was like gravel, and he stood up and quickly left the room, check-up unfinished.

You had no idea what had happened, what you had done, what he had done, but you stood in that room trying to quell your racing heart for ages before you worked up the nerve to emerge. You spent that night thinking about the warmth of his fingers around yours and the way his throat bobbed like he wanted to tell you something.

What was it that he wanted to say? You knew Crosshair was always intentional in everything he did, so what was his intention with holding your hand like that?

Now, as the Marauder flew into a planet you couldn’t remember the name of, you felt those brown eyes on you from where Crosshair sat in one of the seats in the cockpit, his arms crossed and toothpick between his lips. Echo helped Tech guide the ship as Wrecker bench-pressed Gonky in the corridor. Hunter stood nearby as you held onto the back of Tech’s pilot seat as the ship flew into the planet’s atmosphere.

Since joining the squad a mere two months ago, you had been to more planets than you ever thought you would visit in your entire lifetime, but you had never seen anything like this.

The sky was full of enormous floating rocks, with thick greenery on top. You didn’t know how they stayed floating like this.

“This place is unbelievable,” you murmured. “How is this possible?”

“The rocks are held up by the planet’s unique gravity, creating a balanced pull that tethers the rock to its place. Think of them as miniature planets that exist within the atmosphere,” Tech explained.

You hummed in amazement as Tech flew past them all and steered towards the planet’s surface, which lay beneath a thick bank of dark clouds. The clouds gave way to rocky terrain, with a mountain range that jutted up from the ground haphazardly, not unlike their floating counterparts, as well as canyons and valleys. The whole planet seems to be rocks in various states. Tech landed the ship in a clear area and then everyone turned to Hunter.

“So, what’s the plan, Hunter?” Wrecker called out, finally giving Gonky a rest and placing him back on the ground.

Everyone gathered around a holomap Hunter had brought up. You felt Crosshair slide in next to you, his crossed arms grazing yours. Heat prickled your skin, the memory of the warmth of his fingers coming to life again, and you shifted slightly, drawing your arms closer to your body. You looked up at him but for once, his gaze wasn’t on you, but on the blue graphics in front of him. Your face burned. It was embarrassing how much of an effect he had on you, and even more so now after that moment in the medbay. He seemed to have completely forgotten about it, and here you were still having phantom feelings of the way his fingers wrapped around yours.

“We divide our squad,” Hunter begins. “Break off into pairs. The mineral we’ve been sent to recover is located across this entire sector, but according to Tech, not all of it will be viable.”

“There is a very narrow window in which the mineral is usable, and it will be difficult to find. But we will need to be cautious. The viable mineral is highly volatile when handled. And there’s an incoming storm headed this way, and due to the unique gravitational field on this planet, the storms here are quite lethal,” Tech tapped on his datapad.

You took a deep breath in. It appeared there was a lot that could go wrong.

Hunter nodded. “I can feel it. We’ll need to move fast, so let’s get going. Echo, you’re with me in the Badlands. Tech and Wrecker, you head west for the Valley. And that leaves Crosshair with N’edee up in the Mountains. Comm if you find any viable mineral and triangulate your position as best you can for reference before extracting as much as possible. Then head back to the Marauder where we’ll reconvene. Questions?”

Everyone shook their head. “The terrain is tough out there, so let’s try to avoid N’edee having to patch up any injuries,” Hunter added, sending you a smile. Everyone nodded before Hunter signalled everyone to move out.

N’edee was the little Mando’a nickname they’d appointed you. It meant ‘no bite’. After you’d first joined, you’d witnessed your first ever disagreement between Crosshair and Hunter and, not used to their scuffles yet, tried to mediate between them. They were so amused it stopped the argument and earned you the name – since you’d rather try to keep the peace instead of letting them fight it out.

Now, you knew better, but the name stuck. You wished you hated it, but Crosshair’s smirk as he called you it the first time was the first time he ever sort of smiled at you.

And the last.

The squad grabbed their gear, and you strapped your med pack to your back and holstered a blaster you barely ever used. You felt your whole body go into overdrive, not only because of the risk of the mission but also because you were paired off with Crosshair. The thought of being so close; just the two of you sent nerves running through you. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t hesitate to ask what happened in the medbay, and try and sort it out and move forward, but you didn’t have that kind of closeness with Crosshair. There was no way you felt comfortable bringing up the way he held your hand – this was an important mission, and you didn’t want to risk ruining it by making Crosshair uncomfortable and clam up so tight you’d lose the modicum of trust you had.

Whenever intention he’d had, you weren’t destined to ever know what it was. So, you’d just have to take a page out of his book and pretend it never happened.

You made your way down the Marauder’s gangplank to find Crosshair waiting for you, helmet under his arm and holding the barrel of the sniper with his free hand as the hilt rested on the ground. He was the only one there, the others had already started their treks. You quickened your steps down as he looked over at you, heat blooming up your neck.

“Sorry,” you told him. Crosshair shook his head, either dismissing the apology or disappointed in your slowness to get ready – you couldn’t tell.

“Let’s go, the storm’s moving quickly,” he informed in that way of his. He placed his helmet on and started walking. You watched him walk away, not looking back at you as his long legs carried him quickly through the rocky ground in the direction of the mountain range.

“Try and keep up,” he called back, and you huffed, adjusting your med pack and jogging after him.

Crosshair kept a quick pace as you both walked, and his height didn’t help. The rhythmic beeping of the scanner Tech provided you with and your footsteps were the only sound between you both. You tried to keep up as best you could as you approached the base of the mountain range, but you were still lagging a couple of metres behind him.

You had been worried about the awkwardness a conversation about what happened in the medbay would bring, and yet you were not even close enough to have one.

You huffed, a light sheen of sweat covering your brow, as you stepped over a bunch of rocks, moving between them as best you could, looking down at your feet to ensure you didn’t fall. The weather was beginning to change, and you knew the storm was getting closer as the wind picked up and nearly knocked you off balance a few times. But you had still to find any viable mineral. You looked at the scanner and saw it was indeed picking up signs of the mineral, but none of it was suitable – either too old or too young a sample. You sighed. This was going to take longer than you thought, and you only hoped you had more luck once you reached the mountains, and that the storm would hold off.

“Watch your step,” Crosshair called back to you. You looked up to watch him as he stepped on a boulder and jumped down into what must’ve been a small ditch at the foot of the mountain range. You frowned and kept walking. As you got closer, you were surprised as you realised he was waiting for you. His helmet was trained on you as you reached the rock and you tried to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal to you. You stepped on top of the boulder, the wind whipping around you as his gaze tilted up at you. For once, you towered over him. You couldn’t help but smile playfully at him.

“So, this is what the world must look like for you,” you joked, trying to ease the tension that was still thick between you.

Crosshair let out a small scoff at your joke before holding out his hand. “Hurry up.”

You widened your eyes at his extended hand, your eyes flicking to it and then back to his visor. After the medbay, you hardly imagined he’d be offering a hand to you again in a clinical setting, let alone to help you descend a boulder. You looked at his outstretched hand, letting a moment pass as you waited for him to retract it, but he didn’t.

This gesture was intentional.

You slowly placed your hand in his. His hand was as warm and strong as it was several days ago, and the familiarity of it made your insides jolt as you felt it wrap around your palm. The nerve endings in your hand tingled in excitement as they ignited from his touch. Heat coiled its warmth through your whole body as you crouched down to a sitting position, doing your best not to topple over not only from the wind. He helped you slide off the edge down to where he was standing, his hand steadying you.

You wobbled on your feet slightly as you landed, and you looked up at him, wishing he wasn’t wearing his helmet right now so you could discern his steely gaze. Though you had a feeling his bare face still would not betray anything of what was going on in his head.

Was he acknowledging what happened? Or was he just being considerate of the terrain?

Before you could open your mouth with a ‘thank you’, he let go of your hand and started walking up a pathway that seemed to wind up the mountain.

You guessed it was not the former.

You took in a shaky breath, body tingling with the remnants of his touch as you felt its cold absence and started after him; scanner poised as you walked.

The pathway up the mountain was wide enough to walk on, but too narrow to walk side by side comfortably without worry of falling over the edge. So, you trailed behind Crosshair once again, who had now slowed down that the route had grown more precarious. You clenched your jaw as you followed his steps carefully, avoiding any loose rocks as you walked. You tried not to think about the increasing ascension of the mountain, the ground below getting smaller and smaller the higher you both trekked as you continued to scan the side of the mountain for any trace of a viable source of the mineral, but still, there was nothing.

The higher you moved the wind that whipped around both your bodies increased as the clouds rolled in. You had to move your hand alongside the mountain as you waked, too afraid you’d blow away as the gusts of wind threatened to knock you over.

You’d been walking for a few hours by now and with the weather getting worse, the constant pace was starting to wear on you; arms and legs sore and feet aching, face stinging. You looked out over the cliff and saw you were almost halfway up, and the sky was getting darker as the storm continued to draw closer. Every time you looked, it seemed to be moving towards you quicker, so as much as you wanted to stop and rest, you knew that you couldn’t – especially when you looked ahead at Crosshair and saw he didn’t seem to show any signs of exhaustion.

Though you knew clones had been engineered to withstand increased levels of physical exertion, you still felt inadequate not being able to keep up. Even after two months with the squad, you still weren’t used to the physicality of the missions. You weren’t initially trained as a field medic, but you still didn’t want to look like you couldn’t handle this simple mission – even if it was more gruelling than you anticipated. So, you gritted your teeth and kept walking, despite the way your body protested with each step.

Crosshair began to slow before he stopped and turned to look at you. “Picking up anything?”

You shook your head and hoped you didn’t sound as puffed out as you felt. “Nothing viable. Not even a false read.”

Crosshair grumbled. “Another wild bantha chase.”

You tried to sound upbeat, but you weren’t fooling anyone. “Maybe the others have had more luck?”

“Maybe,” Crosshair said, his helmeted face drifting from you to the sky. He removed his helmet and scowled as the storm drew closer and closer to your position on the mountain. It was close enough now that you began to see flashes of lightning strike within the clouds, and you jolted when a crack of thunder sounded like it was almost on top of you.

“The storm is too close,” he said, shaking his head in concern.

“I know. Should we head back to the Marauder?”

“There’s no time. We need a pickup,” Crosshair sighed and placed his helmet back on, pressing the side of his helmet. “Hunter, do you copy?”

You watched him, hand gripping the mountain as the wind grew stronger with each passing second. You were starting to feel spits of rain hit your skin as more thunder and lightning struck. Your body was shaking with exhaustion and all you wanted to do was lie down in a safe place and fall asleep.

“Wrecker? Do you copy? Tech? Echo? Hunter, are you there?” Crosshair spoke into his comm, his voice getting harder with every word. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t reach them. There’s too much atmospheric interference with the storm, maybe even the gravity too.”

You looked at him and tried not to sound panicked, but you knew your face betrayed you anyway. “What do we do?”

A crack of thunder sounded, and it was like the sky was splitting open. The mountain shook under your feet, and you fell to your knees, yelping. You felt Crosshair crouch next to you, a hand on your back to steady you. You looked up at him as the rain started to pelt down heavily on you both. You tried to shield your face, but the rain was so heavy it felt like knives cutting as it hit the skin of your face.

Crosshair hooked a hand under your arm and hauled you up. “We have to move.”

“We need to get off this mountain!” You shouted over the rain.

“We need to find shelter. Come on,” Crosshair skirted you in front of him and you both started to run up the path in the pouring rain. You held a hand against your brow to try and see, but the rain and wind intensified more than you thought possible, blurring your vision.

“Crosshair, I can’t—”

You slipped on a rock loosened by the wet ground. You cried out and fell forward, landing on your hands harshly. You felt your palms sting as you tried to get to your feet, but Crosshair slid his hands under your armpits and lifted you just as there was a flash of bright light, and the mountain shook again, this time more violently. It felt like the lightning had hit the mountain this time, and when you tried to look up to check, your worst fears were confirmed as the sound of rocks tumbling began to get louder over the heavy rain. Panic coursed through your veins.

“Go!” Crosshair yelled, hand steady on your arm as you both ran, him pulling you forward. You could feel rocks landing behind you and you tried to run faster, skin numb from the rain.

“There’s a cave up ahead! Hurry!” Crosshair shouted as he led you towards the mouth of the cave. Your thighs and calves burned, and Crosshair pulled you inside just as rocks fell and covered the entrance of the cave, trapping you both inside.

You fell to your knees, catching your breath as you looked around and realised how dark it was. You’re eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so could barely see anything, but you heard Crosshair’s body hit the ground nearby as he sat down, grunting as he took his helmet off. His breath moved quickly too as you blinked and tried reaching out to see where he was.

“Crosshair?” you said, patting the hard ground next to you until you found his knee.

“I’m here,” he said, placing a hand over yours. You sucked in a breath as his fingers curled around yours. “You okay?” He asked, his voice raspy.

Your heartbeat which had only just started to slow, picked up again as he held your hand again. How many more times was this going to happen? Would you ever not freak out when he touched you now? Was that his intention?

You swallowed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

You felt the muscles in his hand flex. “Yeah.”

You took in a shaky breath and let him hold your hand again, relishing in the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours for a moment, so warm and solid. The feel of his knee under your palm, a part of the body you had originally thought completely savoury until this very moment. After a moment too long of no sound except the roaring rain on the other side of the rock, you cleared your throat before you felt around you with your other hand. “I can’t see.”

“I can.”

You blushed profusely and hoped to the Force you didn’t look as bewildered as you felt. “Right. Of course.”

Crosshair slowly let go of your hand but made a point of keeping your empty palm on his knee, like he knew you needed to feel him close by.

The word intentional flashed in your mind.

Your stomach turned over at the gesture and you wiped your face with your other hand, shoulders beginning to shake. You heard Crosshair take off his pack and scramble through it, pulling out a small light that he usually placed on the end of his rifle. He clicked it on, and you shielded your eyes, before blinking your vision clear. Now you could see Crosshair’s face half illuminated, his brow was creased as he held out the light to you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him. You pointed it around the cave and realised it was not so much a cave, but an oversized cavity in the side of the mountain. It wasn’t very deep, and it looked like its width was only a little bigger than Crosshair was tall. But it had saved your lives. You looked behind you, at the rocks that had fallen there.

“How are we going to get out of here?” you asked, running the light over the edge of the cave to see if there were any openings, but there were none substantial enough for you to try and get leverage to move the rocks that blocked you both in. Some rain fell through the cracks, the water landing on the rock as the storm carried on outside. That was good – at least you had some airflow.

“We need to wait for the storm to pass before we can see if comms will work to call the others,” Crosshair explained. “If we can’t contact them, we’ll have to wait for them to find us.”

The thought of being trapped in here for an undetermined amount of time made your heartbeat begin to race. “And if they can’t find us?”

“They will.” Crosshair’s conviction was comforting. You’d learnt that his belief in his brothers was unwavering, and never misplaced. If he believed that they would find them, then you did too.

You looked at him, careful not to shine the light in his sensitive eyes. His gaze was on you, and this might’ve been the first time you didn’t feel the need to avert your eyes. As intense as his gaze was, it was soft, and the brown of his eyes shined in the low light. Your hand was still on his knee and your eyes flicked down to it. You didn’t know if removing it would make it more awkward, or if leaving it there would. In the split-second moment, you were debating it in your head, with your body still shaking when Crosshair interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re shivering,” Crosshair said. “You need to get dry.”

You looked up at him and realised just how much you were shivering, now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your clothes were soaked through from the downpour, and the chill was sinking into your bones. You knew that if you didn’t get dry, you would get hypothermic.

You held out the light to Crosshair to take, which he did wordlessly. With shaky hands, you pulled your med pack off your back and placed it in front of you. Crosshair shined the light where you needed it as you searched through the items for a reflective blanket and when you found it, you pulled it out, the light bouncing off the shiny fabric. You looked at Crosshair, heat crawling up your neck.

“Um, I need to…”

Crosshair turned his head immediately but kept the light pointed in your direction. As quickly as you could, embarrassment flooding your trembling frame, you removed the layers of clothes you had on. You kept on the black GAR issue bodysuit you wore under all your clothes, even if it was slightly damp – you weren’t going to be completely bare with just a blanket between you and Crosshair. As you stripped everything off, you noticed the palms of your hands were grazed from the fall, and it hurt to move them as the skin stretched. You would deal with it once you weren’t shivering anymore, but the priority right now was to get warm.

Once you piled all your clothes together – there was no hope in everything drying whilst you were stuck in here, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped the reflective blanket around you tightly.

“Okay.” You said and Crosshair looked over and he squinted as the light bounced off the blanket, gaze searching your frame.

“What about your hands?”

“My hands?”

“You fell. I saw your palms are grazed.”

He was so perceptive, you wondered what else he saw that he never acknowledged. “I’ll patch them up after I stop shaking,” you told him, wrapping the blanket tighter.

Crosshair shook his head. “Aren’t you always telling us that injuries should be treated as soon as possible? Give me this—” he pulled the med pack in front of him and pointed the light inside.

“Crosshair—” You said as he dug around your pack, pulling out some antibac wipes and bacta patches. “You don’t have to. It’s not your job.”

Crosshair sent you a withering look before he placed the light between his teeth and gestured for you to show him your hands. You sighed and pulled your hands out of the blanket as best you could without it slipping off your shoulders. You turned your palms up, still slightly tremoring. They weren’t bleeding, but they were red and rubbed raw from the gravel you landed on. And they stung, but you were trying to be brave about it.

They were easily treatable, but your hands didn’t look pretty, that’s for sure.

Crosshair looked at them, adjusting the light in his mouth so they were completely illuminated before he shook his head with a frown, ripped open an antibac wipe, and cradled one of your hands in his.

He met your eyes, a silent question in their gentle expression as his hand was poised, wipe ready to be drawn across your palms. You’d never seen him look at you like this before; this softly. It was so easy for your crush to bloom when he looked at you like this. You looked into his brown-eyed gaze, cheeks heated, and you nodded.

Crosshair gently placed the wipe on your palms, and you sucked in a breath as it stung the exposed skin. You felt the hand that cradled yours tighten and then he slowly began to clean the wound. With his attention on your hand, you could watch him unabashedly. The roles between you had now reversed. He was treating your hands as attentively as you treated his. The way he held your hand in his large palm was so gentle that your heart fluttered. You could feel the heat permeate from under his gloves into your skin, and you felt your hand slowly begin to still, the warmth returning to you with his touch. You were so touched at the way he was doing this for you, without you even asking. The way he insisted upon it. You hadn’t expected it after the medbay, and you ignored the little voice in the back of your head that asked what his intention was and simply savoured this moment of kindness from the man you were hopelessly crushing on.

He was as methodical as he was when cleaning his rifle, wiping the wound on one hand in even strokes that coated all the raw skin twice before he moved to the other hand, a new wipe this time.

You watched the way the light was poised between his teeth, and when his eyes flicked to yours for a moment, you averted your gaze back to your hands reflexively. You heard him breathe out through his nose harshly as he discarded the wipe and grabbed a bacta patch, pressing it between his palms to warm the liquid. You watched him, your eyes meeting his tattooed gaze once again as your hands remained suspended between you.

You thought back to the medbay, at how his fingers had curled around yours so naturally like it was instinctual; at the way he pulled his hands away so quickly and so forcefully it was like your hands had been burnt; at how fast he’d left you standing there, reeling from his actions. You tried to think of what his intention had been, and what you had done that had made him retreat.

“I’m sorry…for the other day.” Your voice was quiet in the small space. The storm continued to rage outside, but there was no way he hadn’t heard you. Crosshair looked at you, knowing exactly what it was you were referring to, and placed the bacta patches in one hand before removing the light from his mouth to talk, confusion etched into his brow.

“Why?”

You brought your lips between your teeth as your eyes flicked between his. “Because I upset you.”

Crosshair looked at you for a moment, an undiscernible expression passed over his half-shadowed face as your eyes stayed locked on each other. What you would give to know what he was thinking, what thoughts swirled in his head. Two months of watching him had barely scratched the surface – you wanted to know everything, to be privy to the innermost workings of his mind.

Crosshair was the first to break his gaze, shaking his head.

“You didn’t upset me.”

You frowned at him, but before you could ask him what he meant, he had placed the end of the light back between his teeth and started applying the bacta patches to your palms, activating the adhesive and smoothing them down over your hands with his thumbs. He held one of your hands in both of his, his fingertips touching the back of your hand as he ran his thumbs along the edges of the bacta patch. He pressed them gently down, and you could already feel the bacta doing its job. He did the same thing to the other side.

You watched him and you realised you’d never felt so cared for before. Never had you been held so gently, treated with such practised methodical hands that were also so soft and caring. Your heart swelled.

He took the light out of his mouth. “Bandages?”

You cleared your throat. “They’re in the side pocket.”

Crosshair took some out and started wrapping your hands up so the bacta patch would be more secure. He was so good at this. With the light dangling from his teeth, he circled the bandage around one hand, before he tied it off and tucked the end, and then the same on the other side.

When he was done, he dropped his hands from yours and removed the light from his teeth for the final time.

You looked at your hands. You couldn’t have treated them better if you had done it yourself. You hadn’t even had to coach him through what to do, and that impressed you. It only made the warmth in your chest grow, that hopeless crush in full bloom and only growing more hopeless by the minute.

“Thank you,” you told him and pulled your hands back underneath the blanket.

Crosshair hummed and then placed the light up on its base between you both and leaned it against the rocks behind you, so the beam of light shined upwards and illuminated where you at. You watched him then sit back against the rock, stretching his long legs out in front of him and closing his eyes, sighing. You sat facing him and brought the blanket around you tighter. You no longer shivered, but you still wanted to be warmer than you were. You stared at the side of his face, Crosshair’s profile half-lit in the light. You gazed at the brown of his skin, the sliver of his hair, the slope of his nose, the purse of his lips. You noted the stubble lining his angled jawline, and wondered what it would feel like against your lips. He was beautiful.

“Crosshair?”

He only hummed again in response.

You tightened your hold on the blanket as you worked up the courage to ask the question that was burning inside you. You couldn’t sit here anymore and not know.

“If I didn’t upset you…what happened?”

Crosshair opened his eyes, but he didn’t speak straight away. It was like he was searching for the right words, the best way to explain what had happened. You waited patiently for him to answer, your anxiety only building in anticipation.

Crosshair scraped the sole of his foot on the floor of the cavity as he brought one of his knees to his chest, resting his elbow on it. You swore you saw the tips of his ears turn pink, but you weren’t sure in this light. “I…crossed a boundary, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for acting the way I did.”

You blinked at him, confused. That was the last thing you expected him to say, especially his apology. “Boundary? What boundary?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair grumbled, his voice scratching.

“It does to me,” you told him gently.

He turned quiet again. He avoided your eyes, instead choosing to focus on a spot on his knee, frown etching deeper into his brow. You wished he would look at you. All those times you caught him watching you, now you willed him to meet your gaze. If he looked at you, you would be able to tell him with your eyes that he could trust you with whatever it was he was having a hard time verbalising. That you wouldn’t judge him the way you knew so many people did. That you saw him, how underneath all that surly exterior was a kind heart who’d been wounded too many times. But he pointedly didn’t look at you, and all you wished to say would remain your secret.

Crosshair sighed, breaking the silence. “You’re our medic, that’s more important.”

That only puzzled you more. “More important than what?”

Quiet descended again, and after several moments, you tentatively reached out and placed a bandaged hand on his shoulder pauldron. His eyes darted to you, wide like they were before in that medbay, and he shrugged you off, his voice hard and frustrated, and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Just forget it. It won’t happen again.”

You watched him, and the way his hands were clenched on his knees. The way he wasn’t looking at you anymore. You recalled the panic in his eyes that you saw in the medbay when he allowed himself the comfort of holding your hand, and how he’d had that same expression just before. You thought back to all the times you caught him looking at you, the way his eyes never left you – even when it was just the two of you during check-ups. The way he brushed up next to you when standing in mission briefings. The way he didn’t hesitate to touch you when he was helping you or keeping you safe – because it was easier to hide behind those gestures than the curling of his fingers around yours alone in the medbay.

Intentional. Intentional. Intentional.

Oh. Oh.

You felt your heartbeat increase as heat rushed through your body, your stomach flipping over at the realisation. You bit the insides of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling before taking a breath. It all made sense now.

Crosshair wasn’t upset at you, he was embarrassed. The man who was so careful about everything he said and did, had one moment where he allowed himself to do something on a whim, and it had made him vulnerable. The impulse had revealed a secret part of himself he had always intended to keep hidden, and now it was out there, and he was embarrassed about it.

He was embarrassed because he thought you didn’t feel the same.

What a fool. A beautiful stupid fool.

Nerves rattled through your body, but you couldn’t sit here any longer and not let him know how you felt too. “Crosshair…” you said his name softly, barely above a whisper.

Crosshair didn’t move, his eyes stayed glued to the middle distance, his hands still clenched into fists. You let out a breath and held out your bandaged hands. At the movement in his periphery, his eyes slid towards your hands and then up to your face. You flexed your fingers, a silent signal to place his hands in yours. His mouth turned into a line and just when you thought he wouldn’t, he slowly placed one of his tight fists in your palms.

You cradled his hand, the back of it resting in your bandaged palm. As best you could with your other bandaged hand, you began to manually unfurl his fingers, spreading them out slowly against yours. He let you, his hand as pliable as it usually was when you did this – there was no apprehension in this moment, only trust. You began to slowly massage his hand, pressing and kneading the joints of his knuckles and the centre of his palm. Neither of you spoke, and the storm continued its fury on the other side of the rock, but it very well could’ve been a parsec away with how intimate this moment was. All you could focus on was him. You could feel him watching you, wondering what you were doing, but you didn’t let his intense gaze pull you away. Not anymore.

Once you reached the end of the massage, you slid your palm over his, fingers lined up. You moved your hand slowly like he was a baby tooka you had to coax into your lap, you were giving him time to pull away. You let your fingers fall between the gaps of his and then curled your fingers down, so you held his hand.

You felt him tense as he realised what was happening, and you looked at him, but his eyes were locked on your intertwined hands. You waited to see if he pulled away, but he didn’t. His hand stayed firmly in yours, his fingers still splayed out – but his palm stayed pressed into yours. You heard him take in a shaky breath as he finally looked at you.

His eyes had softened on the edges, but his shoulders were still tense, and he had an expression that looked like he was pleading with you; begging you not to play with him like this.

You wouldn’t dream of it.

“Is…is this the boundary?” you asked. You felt Crosshair shift, and his voice came out in a rasp and his ears were definitely pink in this dim light.

“Yes.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands and squeezed his gently. “And me being your medic is more important than this?”

His reply came a second and a half later, all strained and breathy. “Yes.”

You looked at him, his tattooed gaze boring into your face. Ever the perceptive one, you could see he was trying to figure out what you were doing, and why you were doing it. You offered him a smile as you gave him the answer.

“This…this isn’t a boundary for me. Me being your medic has never mattered when it comes to this with you, and never will.”

You watched his eyes widen minutely, and if you didn’t know his face so well, you wouldn’t have noticed anything. But other than that almost indiscernible change in expression, Crosshair remained unmoving, his shoulders still rigid and his fingers still splayed out, not touching the back of your hand.

You searched his face and suddenly felt like you had completely misjudged his actions. Maybe he didn’t have the same crush on you, you did him. Maybe he had just held your hand by mistake, that what you thought had all been intentional, wasn’t actually intentional at all.

Your face burned and embarrassment flooded your body. You started to pull your hand away from him.

“But if it’s a boundary for you—”

But Crosshair’s fingers came down before you could rip your hand away, and he held your hand to his tightly, stopping your palm from leaving his. His hold was secure, warm and purposeful. There was nothing to hide behind anymore.

“It’s not,” he told you, his voice as soft as you’d ever heard it. He looked at you, and he was more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You felt your heartbeat flutter. You knew this was hard for him, vulnerability of any kind wasn’t Crosshair’s comfort zone. You smiled at him as reassuringly as you could.

“Good.”

You felt his shoulders drop as his whole body relaxed. Your heart almost burst when you saw the corner of his mouth turn up at you – a smile that was yours and yours alone. You smiled at him, that warmth in your chest glowing brightly, making you feel so at home, you almost didn’t mind you were trapped in this space. You were with Crosshair, and that was enough.

You both sat there, holding hands in the torchlight. It was such an innocent kind of intimacy, but for you both, it held so much. So many unspoken feelings now known through the feel of your palms against each other. You never wanted to let go, and you suspected he didn’t either. You felt his finger muscles flex and you squeezed his hand. He lifted his thumb and placed it on top of yours, stroking it gently in a ministration so comforting you could’ve sobbed. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

A genuine Crosshair smile was a rare gift so few received. He kept them, saving them for the people he trusted and loved. To get one now, to see the corners of his eyes crinkle and the smile lines in his cheeks stretch in a closed-mouth smile, you felt honoured. You never imagined you would ever see Crosshair smile at you like this, to let you close like this – to let you close at all. The dim light of the cave had revealed the disappearing ink of his feelings, and it was extraordinary. You would tell him the full extent of what you felt for him in time, but for now, your feelings were wordlessly exchanged with just you two for witnesses.

You watched as Crosshair tentatively and wordlessly brought the back of your hand to his lips. With his tattooed gaze on you the whole time, he placed a lingering kiss there. You inhaled sharply at the gesture and the skin tingled under the bandage where he kissed you. The rain outside was heavy, but your heart felt light – like if you weren’t trapped in this space, you float away and join those rocks in the sky. You watched him pull away, brushing his lips on the spot for a moment before he let your hands drop between you.

“Was that okay?” he asked, his husky voice asked softly.

You chuckled, a grin stretching across your face. “Yes. More than okay.”

Crosshair hummed, his eyes smiling. “Good.”

The mountain shook again, and you looked around you frantically as dust from the cavity began to fall on you both. Crosshair pulled you against him, arms going around you as he shielded you to his chest. You held onto the edge of his chest plate so tight it dug into your fingers, your face pressed into his chest as he held you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to focus on the mixed smell of soap and wood of Crosshair instead of the panic that coursed through you. When the tremor stopped, you looked up at him, and him at you.

“You okay?” he asked

“Yeah,” you lifted your head but didn’t dare untangle yourself from Crosshair’s arms.

Crosshair adjusted the blanket on your shoulders, pulling it tighter around you. “The longer this storm goes on, the more danger we��re in.”

“Should we try the comms again?”

Crosshair let go of you briefly to grab his helmet and put it on. “Hunter, come in. Tech? Wrecker? Echo? Do you read?”

You waited. Crosshair’s arm tightened on you, but he let out a frustrated sigh and pulled the helmet off roughly, setting it down next to him. “Still nothing.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder as you sighed. “What do we do?”

“Wait.”

You groaned. Crosshair chuckled and you felt his hand run up and down your back soothingly. It was a simple gesture, but one that conveyed how much he cared for you. A man of few words, he let his actions show his feelings for you. And you had no doubts about it.

After a minute, you lifted your head to find him looking down at you intensely. You felt his arms tighten on you as this hand travelled down to your waist and stayed there. You blinked up at him, drawing your eyes across his face before they landed on his lips.

They had been so soft when they touched the back of your hand, what would they feel like pressed against your own? You’d dreamt about it, but you had a feeling that it would be nothing to the reality of it.

“N’edee?” His voice was quiet, but you feel the weight on them in your stomach.

“Hmm?” you hummed innocently, but there was nothing innocent about what was running through your mind right now.

“Can I test another boundary?” His tone was hesitant, careful as he leaned in a little closer to you.

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Which one?”

“This one.”

Crosshair slowly closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours. It was like your whole body lit up inside, igniting you so completely you were aware of every nerve ending you had. Your fingers tightened on his armour just as Crosshair languidly pulled away after too brief a moment. You stared at him, dazed with your mouth parted slightly, and in need of more.

“Well?” he asked, his voice like silk.

You were breathless. “Not a boundary. Kiss me as much as you like.”

“If you insist,” he smirked and pressed his lips to yours again.

Kissing Crosshair was an all-consuming kind of feeling. That magnetic pull he already had on you only seemed to intensify the minute his lips descended on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he hoisted you onto his lap, your thighs falling on either side of his as you straddled him, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders – not that you needed it anymore with the heat that thrummed through you.

You melted into the kiss, and you were right – your dreams of his lips were nothing compared to the real thing. You felt the tickle of his breath on your cheek as you arched yourself closer to him. With just your body suit on, you could feel every hard ridge of his armour against you. His arms moved across your back, and you could feel his fingertips searing along your shoulder blades. His hot mouth moved against yours and you allowed yourself to nip at his lips. You felt him flinch before his lips stretched into a smile against yours, a chuckle vibrating his chest.

“Guess you do have some bite, N’edee,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Just for you,” you breathed, and he groaned into your mouth, kissing you deeper.

He was just as starved for you as you were for him, and you wondered how long exactly he’d been feeling like this towards you, but you’d ask such questions later. His mouth was heavenly, his lips like a caress against yours. Your lips parted and he took the chance to deepen the kiss as you dragged your hands up into his buzzed hair, feeling the short strands against your fingernails. And you felt just how skilled he was his tongue as it slid against yours, and you silently thanked his toothpicks for giving him the practice.

You’d never been kissed with such passion before, with such intention. Now, he was no longer embarrassed, he did not hold back his kisses and touches. That knowledge made it all the more thrilling as Crosshair pressed you into him, pulling your hips against his with hands that you knew to be tender, but now held with you with such desire you felt dizzy.

He moved his lips down your jawline to just below your ear, and you panted as you tightened your arms around him, rocking into him. He sucked the skin there, his tongue darting out and wetting the area. It made you moan so loudly you were glad no one else could hear how desperate you sounded.

“Crosshair,” you moaned.

You felt him smirk against your skin before he made his way back to your lips. Groaning into your mouth again, you felt his hands move from your hips to your ass and back up again, and you felt your body go into overdrive, pulsing with a wanting need. Where did he learn to kiss like this? You wanted to thank whatever Kaminaon training module taught him, or the illicit holos you knew Tech had stashed on the locked-down data drive you found a week after you joined them – whichever it was.

You were so lost in his kisses, the way they grew in fervour with each press against your skin, you almost didn’t hear the beeping of Crosshair’s comm in his helmet.

“Crosshair,” you said when you finally heard it, pulling away, but his mouth just found your neck instead. You patted his shoulder. “Crosshair, the comm.”

“What?” he said raggedly. His lips ceased their attentions, and he pulled back. His lips were all swollen and you smiled at the knowledge that was all you. You stayed perched in his lap and he grabbed his helmet and put it on. You could hear the other voice when you were this close to him.

“Crosshair, come in.” It was Hunter.

“Copy, Hunter,” Crosshair said, and you mentally applauded him for not sounding as breathless as you would’ve.

“Are you and N’edee okay?”

Crosshair’s hand squeezed your thigh, and you squirmed on top of him, smiling. “For the moment. We’re trapped on the mountain. The storm caused a cave-in, and we can't get out.”

“We’ll lock in on your signal and fly to your location. Stand by.” You realised then the rain and thunder had stopped, and that the storm had now passed.

“Copy,” Crosshair said before he removed his helmet and placed it next to him again, and you both looked at each other. He gripped your hips. “They’re on their way in the Marauder. Wrecker will be able to push the rocks out of the way, and we’ll be free.”

You breathed in, relieved help was coming. “I didn’t even realise the storm had passed,”

“Well, we were busy,” Crosshair snided.

“Right,” you laughed lightly.

Crosshair looked away from you for the first time since everything changed between you, and his hands on your hips loosened. You frowned as you watched his once open expression, slowly begin to close off again in the dim light. He looked uncertain, all in his own head again and you realised that he was worried – worried that this moment together was but a brief interlude in which you got caught up in the danger of the situation. You wanted to shake his shoulders and tell him he was being absurd, how he could think such a thing after all you just said and did. But you didn’t, because like baby tooka, Crosshair needed gentle reassurance; that his vulnerability and his feelings were not being played with.

Later, when you had more time and were back on the Marauder and tucked away in the medbay just the two of you again, you would tell him just how much he had nestled his way into your heart. That your crush was much more than that, that you saw all of him, and though you were still learning to decipher the riddles he was made of, you never wanted to stop. That you saw all his intentions, and now yours was to hold his heart in your bandaged hands the way he held yours.

But for now, in your final moments alone with him before his brothers rescued you both, you locked your eyes on him and gently grabbed the hands that had slackened on your hips, linking your fingers together once more. You watched his eyes find yours, his brows slanted at the ends as he looked at you with all this apprehension. You brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed them, lips lingering there as you let the gesture convey wordlessly your intention to keep nurturing what was between you for as long as he let you. That this didn’t end once you were both bathed in sunlight again.

“I hope we’ll be busy again later? And many laters after that too?”

Crosshair’s shoulder relaxed and you smiled as the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, his eyes smiling as he squeezed your hands once more. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! if you made it this far, thank you! i appreciate it so much! this is the longest standalone fic i've ever written!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727

TAGLIST FORM

#larissa writes #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader fic #crosshair fluff #crosshair angst #soft crosshair #tbb x reader #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair fic #the bad batch fic #bad batch crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you

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zzthekaiju · 26 days

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So, Godzilla X Mothra as a Monsterverse movie, hmm...

Well, I got a lot of replies to the big comic saying that they’d like to hear my pitch for a GxM movie. So, here you go!

The film should be, at its core, of the romance genre variety. For both the kaiju and the human sub-plots. The overarching theme should not only be the Monsterverse’s usual “natural balance” motif, but also that of loving one another despite our differences and flaws, or perhaps because of them.

After all, “If you love a person, you accept the total person. With all the defects. Because those defects are a part of the person.”

Obviously, Godzilla and Mothra are at the center of the kaiju side of the story. Big G is still patrolling for rogue titans while Mothra has made residence in Indonesia. Monarch returns with Madison Russell trying to prove her worth as a part of it. However, not only is her stubborn attitude grating on everyone, but her head is in a whirlwind because of Mothra’s newest ambassador: A good-natured and pacifistic young lady her age native to where the big bug titan lives. She and this newcomer (we’ll call her Lora for simplicity’s sake) are a mirror to Godzilla and Mothra. Also, Bernie and Trapper should return because there was NO way they weren’t having eyes for each other in the last movie.

As for our two kaiju, their relationship hits a snag when a new titan shows up with an uncanny resemblance to Mothra. And yes, this will be the Monsterverse’s answer to Battra (we’ll call him that here from now on). Battra is something of an older brother to Mothra, and the two have a very strong connection. Unfortunately, Battra’s way of handling protecting the Earth runs counter to how Godzilla does it (as in, wipe out human settlements and attack titans for the most minor of infractions), and Big G tries to handle it the only way he knows how (ie, beating him to death). But not only is Battra much stronger than he lets on (complete with an ability to control plant life), but Mothra intervenes on her ancestor’s side out of familial loyalty (she’s unaware of Battra killing people at this point), causing the king and queen to come to blows until she and Battra emerge victorious, driving Godzilla away.

This turns out to be a really bad move, as Battra is determined to wipe out humanity, believing them to be a scourge that Mothra foolishly trusted. Mothra doesn’t realize her mistake until Battra wipes out an entire village for the crime of being near a forest. She tries to stop him, but nearly gets killed before retreating.

Monarch’s main goal throughout the film is to reunite Godzilla and Mothra, requiring them to look high and low for clues to how this unique symbiotic relationship came to be. A major stop is the Hollow Earth Iwi tribe, which shows how the two met in the first place, and gives Jia a chance to enter the narrative. As time goes by, Madison and Lora’s relationship goes from “unstoppable force meets immovable object” to them finding common ground, and eventually falling in love. It’s them that enables Monarch to hatch a plan. With the help of Jia, and Madison’s mastery of the ORCA, they set Godzilla and Mothra up to meet again. Of course, they’re all rather surprised to see Godzilla so thoroughly heartbroken and ashamed of himself that he submits to her like any titan would to him. But as Jia translates Mothra’s thoughts, the insect Goddess and her king make up for each other’s faults.

Soon, it’s Godzilla and Mothra vs. Battra. But it’s not easy, as Battra has mastery over the elements, giving him an advantage over Godzilla by summoning giant plants to ensnare and attack him. Mothra gets in a lot of good hits, but in the end, it’s a combination attack from king and queen that destroys Battra’s wings, and reduces him to harmlessness. To show how much he trusts his queen, Godzilla allows him to live and Mothra to decide his fate. She ultimately has him confined to the same place she lives so that he has familial company. It ultimately ends with Godzilla and Mothra resting at the area where they first met, as Monarch watches from a safe distance with Madison and Lora sharing their first kiss. At least one person, probably Bernie, states that it’s the best double date ever.

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If anyone has other ideas/opinions, feel free to let me know!

#Ramblings #godzilla #kaiju #monsterverse #mothra #mothzilla #godzilla x kong: the new empire

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tblsomedoodles · 11 months

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Why the twins abandoned Draxum

Ok, i promised more Imaginary Friend content, and i am here to deliver!

this is a little more of the plot side of things rather than the shenanigans.

i'll put it under the cut since it's long. again.

Ok, so they sneak out to meet with Mikey and Raph for about three years before Draxum realizes what's going on. (or part of what's going on. He knows they have been sneaking out and the caretaker hasn't been doing his job properly, but he doesn't know they were sneakign out to meet, or even who they were meeting.)

Upon finding this out, the caretaker is fired and Draxum decides that, if they are competent enough to constantly leave the house on their own and come back fine, they are competent enough to be properly trained. This means they no longer have the opportunity to sneak out.

Mikey and Raph try to reach out to them via mind meld, but it's too far for a strong enough connection to communicate, not to mention the twins keep purposefully shutting them out. the twins figure that since they can no longer meet up with them, that It's better to cut themselves off completely now than continuing to long for a time, they believe, is gone.

It's two more years before they meet again, and it's on accident.

When Mayhem stole the emperium, Draxum sent the twins to fetch it, treating it as a test.

They're sent out to fetch the emperium, and, of course, run into Mikey and Raph (and April). It's very much a surprise, especially considering they're standing between them and their mission. They're careful not to hurt their siblings but do get Mayhem away Donnie sending Mikey a quick "do not follow us. it's dangerous" mind meld message before they nope on out through Leo's portal. a portal that both April and the soon-to-be imitation crab man go through before it closes.

They appear right in the middle of the lab so neither of the twins quite realize they have stowaways until it's too late. They recognize April as one of Mikey and Raph's friends and figure it's not a good idea for Draxum to realize she's there, so they hide her in a nearby closet before Draxum can notice, miming for her to stay quiet. once Draxum leaves again, Leo portals her back out of the building (he's aiming for topside but ends up just setting her down on their front porch for Mikey and Raph to find.)

Anyways! Mikey and Raph (and April) show up like canon, and, of course Draxum is seeing stars. It's the other two. He could have a full set once again! but they prove to be difficult to coerce into joining him, so he creates that vine monster to fight them (and test them while they're at it.) He sends Leo and Donnie after them as well, but they linger, choosing halfheartedly fight April rather than their brothers. That is, until Mikey ends up weaponless and the target of an attack that could hurt him.

Then the above happens. Donnie instinctively protects Mikey, which angers Draxum, which causes Leo to portal Donnie behind him so he's away from him, and, then they defect, choosing to get their brothers, April, and Mayhem out of the soon-to-explode lab rather than continue fighting.

but yeah, that's how they get away from Draxum. The power of little brother in peril lol.

(fun fact i'm just coming up with now (but have been thinking about) Draxum was super extra dramatic when he named the twins originally. He named them Thanatos and Somnus. though neither of them really acknowledge those names b/c they so rarely heard them growing up. Literally only Draxum used them. which is why when Mikey asked thier names, they just shrugged. Why is that Draxum beign extra, b/c those are the twin personifications of death and sleep respectively (though Somnus is technically the Roman name. but since Somnus's Greek name is Hypnos, i thought it would be too confusing.) also, according to Greek Mythology, Thanatos and Hypnos are the twin sons of Nyx (goddess of night) and Erebus (god of the dark). SO yes, Draxum was being dramatic AF and named a set of twins he was going to train to be ninja warriors, after the mythological twins born to night and darkness. and who also embody death and sleep. (this also gives me a good excuse to jokingly call the twins the Myth Twins, even though the aus staying named Mikey's imaginary Friends. lol))

#tmnt #rottmnt #my doodles #mikey's imaginary friends #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #this was supposed to be one page #it turned into three #this is my friday update #which i didn't finish in time b/c i was getting used to the tablet #i love it but there's a small learning curve #and i'm getting used to it

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ayabeanworks · 5 months

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Title: No Repeats

Synopsis: Suguru & Satoru are sent to an alternate timeline around 10 years into the future, where their older counterparts tell them the story of you, on the anniversary of your death.

Character: SaShiSu x reader

Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)

Notes: Mentions of death & suicide, some angst, some fluff, some pining, bittersweet. Alternate timelines AU. AU where Geto doesn't defect.

Somewhat of a sequel to this AU.

"Suguru, we're in Tokyo, right?" Satoru questioned, tilting his head slightly as he peered his surroundings. He thought he was tripping, but he really had to blurt it out since things were different. It sounded like a stupid question, but it really wasn't.

A brief pause from Suguru confirmed Satoru's own thoughts - it was strange, it was Tokyo, yet it wasn't the Tokyo they knew.

"Everything seems newer, there are more people, and it seems...more developed?" Satoru paused for a moment, feeling remnants of his own cursed energy loitering around. "It's my own cursed energy but I don't remember doing anything down here."

Suguru had his own thoughts about this, and it was quite similar to Satoru's. It was strange - what had happened? They were on a mission together and somehow they ended up in Shibuya?

Was this an illusion by a curse?

No, this is too real to be an illusion, Satoru locked eyes with Suguru, who held the same thoughts.

"I can't feel the curse we were fighting before," Suguru took another look around, just seeing the people pass them by.

With a frown, Satoru shrugged and started walking towards Jujutsu High, "Let's just go see the school. If anything's changed, that place would have too."

Suguru placed his hands in his pockets as he followed Satoru, wondering why everything still felt out of place even though he knew it to be the Shibuya he often frequented.

Something was odd, and he didn't like it.

When the teens arrived at the steps inside Tengen's barrier leading to the school, they were stopped by 2 taller individuals, both of whom they recognised with their cursed energy.

After all, they had the very same cursed energy in their own bodies.

"Suguru, is this what I looked like back in high school?" A taller man with a bed of white hair and a black blindfold pointed at Satoru, eyes switching between teen Suguru and older Suguru. Their younger counterparts had expressions of surprise, not even sure such a phenomena could happen. In what type of world would they be able to talk and converse with themselves but at different ages?

"Satoru," Geto sighed, "Pointing is rude."

"Hey, we can hear you, you know!" Satoru made a face, an irritated expression at the older version of himself.

He knew it immediately before he could even see the two who stood in front of them - they were him and Suguru, but older than they were now, possibly by 10 years?

But why were there 2 of each of them? Did he and Suguru skip timelines or something?

Because there can't be 2 six eyes users in the world at the same time, and Satoru was sure his eyes weren't working as they should have. The reason being, he could only feel the cursed energy of the older two, he couldn't see it like he normally could. It was even harder to see out of the pitch black glasses he normally wore, so he just placed them on his head since his eyes weren't working as they should.

Gojo laughed, grinning at the two youngsters in front of him. It really did remind him of his youth, and everything that happened 7-9 years ago.

They weren't exactly 100% pleasant memories, but they were precious to him in many ways.

"How's Shoko?" He placed a hand on his hip, probing him for information. If the teen him and Geto were here right now, most likely it was the doing of a curse. But he wanted to know around what time it was from their original timeline that they came here.

Geto gave Gojo a look, but knew exactly what he was doing nonetheless, chipping in himself, "And [name], how are they?"

Satoru and Suguru exchanged glances, raising a brow each. They knew they could trust their future selves so they were pliant with giving any information.

"Shoko is fine, she's in the morgue taking care of [name]. [Name] recently exhausted their cursed energy." said Satoru, lightly sighing, remembering the last time they were there to see them.

"[Name] exhausting their cursed energy?" Gojo turned to Geto, "Isn't this when they were on a mission with you?"

Geto only smiled, but it wasn't an incredibly happy smile, it was a strained one from remembering that time. "Yeah...[name] will be fine, don't worry." He turned to his younger self, "Make sure you tell them you're happy to see them healthy and happy."

Suguru's eyes widened at his older version's words, wondering what type of message he wanted to deliver. He sounded sad, like they were words he himself wanted to convey to [name]. But why?

"Why don't you just tell them that now?" Suguru, being as sharp as he was, questioned directly. He had an inkling of a feeling there was bad news to be said.

Geto exhaled, shaking his head. He met Gojo's eyes, silently wondering if he should tell them. Gojo nodded in silent agreement. Even if they were from another timeline, he didn't wish for them to experience what they did. It would be wrong to put them through such a time when they themselves knew the pain they'd gone through.

"Why aren't you answering?" Satoru pressed, leaning forward and taking another step up on the stairs.

"Today is the anniversary of their death."

"What the fuck happened for them to die?"

Gojo and Geto watched their younger selves as they stared at the grave in which [name] was in. It was a makeshift one on the outskirts of Jujutsu High, away from the prying eyes of others. There was a stick in the middle of a mound to indicate it was a grave.

"It's an empty grave." Geto took a step forward to lay down some flowers. "Their body went missing after their death, then some stuff happened and an imposter took over their body and became a curse user with their abilities."

"What the fuck?" Satoru couldn't believe their words. More like, he didn't want to believe their words. There was no way you would die, you were healthy, happy and doing what you did best back in their original timeline!

But here we have someone - their older versions, to be exact - saying the opposite. If it was true, what conspired to make that happen? Isn't that just speculation?

"How and why did [name] die?" Suguru grabbed Satoru on the shoulder to tell him to calm down, but he also wanted answers on whatever the hell was going on. If what they were saying was true, then something similar was going to happen if they didn't get to the root cause.

Geto studied Suguru's face. Seeing the young version of him was entertaining to say the least; the emotions, feelings and turbulent thoughts under those calm eyes and facade made him want to reminiscent the past.

"They killed an elder and became a curse user," He started. He could see Suguru's expression break for a moment, but he prompted his older self to continue, "They killed several elders, all pre-planned and on separate occasions, before they went on to massacre more of them during an important meeting here. They managed to do so or fatally injured them, before committing suicide."

Hearing the details from Geto, Gojo could only press his lips together and push his hands into his pockets, remembering the feel of your body dying in his arms. The warmth from your body disappearing at an alarming rate, the scent of your blood, your touch on his skin, your tears and even the last smile you gave them. All those sensations and feelings were seared into his brain whether or not he wanted them to, and on occasion it would give him nightmares. It left a deep ache in his heart, but he would cover it with laughter, frivolity and work.

However, Gojo didn't want to forget anything about you - so he experienced everything his mind and body conjured up, and went with it.

Geto gave their younger versions the super short version of what happened, but he wanted to gauge the reactions of their younger versions before continuining.

Satoru and Suguru's mouths were dry, as if they were parched. It was unbelievable what their older versions had said, and it was even more unbelievable since it was you. Yes, you had trouble with the elders, but they didn't think you were the type of person to do something drastic. There was a root cause to this!

"You're not telling the full story." This time, it was Satoru who spoke up. For this kind of information drop, he was normally more hot headed and reacted like so, but since all of it was hyperthetical and might possibly not happen, he wanted to get to the bottom of it and had questions.

Even if it was hyperthetical.

To Satoru, he knew you, and he knew you to be someone who didn't and wouldn't do such a thing. But if someone else was telling him, much less his older version, that it was something that could happen, that set off alarm bells in his head.

Gojo let his lips curl up into a small smile. He was well aware of how he himself thought, and hearing his younger self want to know more, was a step forward in the direction he would rather they be in.

It was still him, after all.

Geto smiled, but there was no happiness or positive emotion behind it. It was merely affirming Satoru's suspicions.

"I'm not." Geto turned to your grave, "[name] made the first move. The elder they're butting heads with now, [name] will eventually kill him. They got sick of him and his corrupted ways, and didn't want it to happen to other sorcerers. [name] was at their breaking point."

"After they killed the elder, [name] went into hiding. We saw them before that, and the next time we saw [name], they were dying in our arms." Gojo's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Reminiscing about an old friend now scorned by the world wasn't a good feeling, precisely because he knew how good of a person [name] was inside, just that they made the wrong choices. Or more precisely, the most unlawful choice by society's standards.

To be honest, Gojo did not care whether it was unlawful or not, he was just devastated to have lost you.

Even if your opinions were different, it was still something that could have been talked about and communicated through with them. After all, all of your goals were the same: reformation of the Jujutsu society. But could a different opinion really be called wrong when it follows one's convictions for a revamped reality?

"Did you have to fight [name]?" The question was at the tip of Suguru's tongue since Geto mentioned it. How could [name] die in their arms unless they were close enough? They took their own life after all.

And the [name] they knew now, was only going to begin to understand how their cursed energy worked, after getting it unblocked through a dangerous mission.

"We did," Geto shook his head even though his words confirmed his question. "But [name] didn't want to fight us. So when we caught up with them after the massacre, they tried to not engage with us in battle."

"[name] was strong. But they couldn't - no, wouldn't - fight us. It might have been because we were the strongest and it would be difficult to win, but I'd like to think it was because we shared a strong bond."

Gojo wondered if his younger self would cry if he saw the letter [name] had left for him before they decided to become a curse user. Would he cry his eyes out? Or would he rip it up and decide it was bullshit?

After all, Gojo knew when he was a teenager, [name] was more precious to him than he realised, and he would be in denial about their little soft spot for them. It was probably the same as it was now for the teen in front of him. The only difference being that the younger Gojo had you alive in their timeline, whereas for his own, you were a distant memory.

"And that's why they killed themselves?" Suguru breathed out, his voice almost in a whisper. He was trying to solve the complex problem that was you - it was the last thing he would think of you doing, and he wondered if there were already telltale signs in your behaviour back home.

Geto hummed in confirmation. "[name]'s body went missing during the cremation process, and wasn't found until years later. But by that time, an imposter had taken over their body, and they were treated as more of a cursed user than before."

Gojo's hands clenched in his pockets, remembering the anger he felt when he realised it was an imposter in [name]'s body. He was absolutely furious someone or something had the audacity to do such a thing to you.

How dare they use your body, your voice, your expressions, your memories to try and trick them? That was not the [name] he knew, and God forbid him from destroying the entity using your identity.

"This time, they died by our hands, and their body was retrieved and cremated." Geto spoke those words sadly, his own body remembering your second death; but since it wasn't you, it was more of laying you to rest, to finally be at peace.

He could not mention that it was an uphill battle because they just couldn't find it in themselves to kill you since it was still your body. To have you die in their arms again and experience your second death was too much. They didn't want to have to experience killing you, because they understood how you didn't want them to kill you and that's the reason why you did it yourself. But the pain of having experienced you killing yourself and then also having to kill you whether an imposter was in your body or not, was enough to have them waking up in a cold sweat at night.

Satoru and Suguru could feel their older selves and how much they cherished you. It could be said they themselves also felt that, but it was different, since the two older versions of them had experienced much more and they knew the depth of their feelings towards their dead best friend.

Suguru let out an exhale, his mind going crazy at the information given to him. It might be a figment of their imagination from a curse, but there may be some truth to it.

"You don't believe me?" Geto could only laugh lightly at the expressions on their younger selves. He knew it sounded impossible, but for him, it was the truth. For them, it may seem like a distant future, or even a sad, made up story.

"Why don't we show them the letter they left for us and Shoko?" Gojo gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Letter?" The two younger males echoed.

"The ones [name] left before they became a cursed user." Geto and Gojo had a mutual agreement,and set off to find the letters, with their younger versions in tow.

Once they got the letters, Gojo and Geto left them in the teacher's staffroom and stood outside, giving them some privacy. They'd need it.

It was a couple of minutes later that they came back in, only to be met with the expected expressions from the teens.

"So? How was it?" Gojo cooed teasingly, plucking the letter out of Satoru's hands. The expression on his younger self was something he saw rarely, and only in events which affected him on a more personal level. Even now, he was like that.

Satoru lips were pressed into a thin line, his teeth clenching together to try and prevent any form of tears. Gojo could see, his eyes were glossy behind the blackout sunglasses he wore, which were coincidentally covering his eyes instead of sitting on top of his head.

I knew it, thought Gojo. If he was so emotional as an adult after reading the letter (even though he hid it), there was no way his younger self wouldn't be.

If he had to guess, his younger self would be rethinking everything that happened, and trying to figure out whatever the hell was going on to cause what happened in the current timeline following the older versions.

Gojo glanced at Suguru, who had placed his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward to cover his eyes with his hand. Geto didn't make any effort to take the letter away, knowing full well how his younger self would feel.

Since Suguru was in denial with his budding feelings, it was going to make him rethink many things, and it would be painful. Geto himself had already come to terms with it, but at the same time he held a hope, no matter how small it may be, on meeting you again no matter where, to convey the words he's always wanted to say.

"It's [name]'s handwriting, right? If you think it's a joke, it really isn't." Gojo spoke in a lighthearted tone, trying to make the atmosphere lighter, but to no avail. It was still heavy, and their younger versions sat on their chairs, silent as they digested the information.

His eyes took a look at the photo by his rarely used desk, one which had a photo of the four of them - Gojo, Geto, Shoko and you. It was the same one as the one in the safe, and he had copies made of it to make sure he wouldn't forget you, ever.

He ignored the sting in his heart every single time he looked at the photo until it numbed him. There were many things he wanted to say when he saw you, but he'll cross that bridge once he's on it. There just isn't any plan at all, and he'd much prefer it that way.

A bittersweet smile curled his lips slightly when he turned his attention back to his younger self. He had a slight frown on his lips as he looked at anything but their older versions.

"Suguru, a word of advice. If you have anything you want to say, just say it. Especially to [name]." Geto placed a larger hand on top of his younger self's head, ruffling it slightly in an affectionate manner.

Suguru let out a half cry half hum, not wanting to talk in case his voice betrayed him further. He was glad he wasn't bawling his eyes out now that he's realised his true feeligs.

Gojo, on the other hand, flicked his younger self's forehead, "They say sorcerers don't die without regrets. Spoil them as much as you want. This one next to you, too." He cheekily pointed to Suguru.

Satoru made a funny sound, something between a grunt and a hum of agreement. His eyes were yet again elsewhere, but landed on Suguru to see the state he was in.

Satisfied by his answer, Gojo clapped his hands together, "Now, shall we exterminate that curse that's caused you to come to the future, or an alternate timeline?"

Geto sighed at his best friend's antics, "You mean exorcise, Satoru."

"And that's done!" Gojo had one-handedly just killed off the curse guarding the door back to Satoru and Suguru's original timeline. "After you go through here, you'll be back to your own realities."

"Remember, everything you heard here is just a possibility that can happen. We told you this to make sure you two get a happier ending." Geto placed a hand on each of their younger selve's shoulders, giving them a couple of light taps before pushing them gently towards the door.

"What is this, Doraemon?" Satoru muttered, staring at the door.

Suguru, on the other hand, turned to his older self and Satoru's older self, giving them a slight bow, "Thank you for letting us know."

"You were such a nice boy back then, Suguru!" Gojo gasped in faux shock, giving Suguru a thumbs up.

Geto rolled his eyes at Gojo's poor attempt to ellicit a reaction out of him, ignoring him instead to give his younger self a grin.

Satoru and Suguru left through the door, waving at their older selves, prompted by an excited older Gojo and calmer Geto, as they said goodbye and left the timeline to return to their original one.

"No injuries, no head trauma or anything?" Shoko questioned, checking up on her classmates. She was currently still in the morgue, same place as always, making sure [name] was alright as they came in for a check up after a mission.

Suguru and Satoru had to pinch each other's cheeks to make sure they weren't dreaming, and they really were back in their own timeline.

Satoru was even more sure it was the correct one since his six eyes were working again.

"Don't think so." Satoru responded, leaning over your face as he examined your features. They were calmer now that you'd had some time to heal, and from Shoko's excellent RCT and healing techniques.

"Nothing for me either." Suguru followed. He placed a hand on your forehead gently, feeling your temperature and hoping you weren't running a fever. You didn't look like you were, but he had to make sure.

After hearing those words from his older version in another timeline, his words struck a chord in his heart. Reading the letter solidified that, and it really brought Suguru back to a reality that something horrible could happen in the not-so-distant future.

"Wake up soon, [name]," murmured Suguru, tapping your nose.

He probably wouldn't know what he'd do or what he'd think if he lost you. It was something he didn't have in his mind until the recent timeline-skip, one that made him well aware of what he could've done to help you, and by extension, himself and others he deemed close or best friends.

"They'll be fine." Shoko raised a brow at the new point of affection, "They've gotten through the toughest stages, so they'll wake up soon."

Suguru turned to Satoru, who already had a grin on his face from the news, celebrating it with a cute little dance to express his happiness.

He stopped after a moment, going back to his usual self as he sat down on another table, crossing his legs and leaning back. "Shoko, you probably won't believe us if we told you that we met our older selves when the curse pushed us into an alternate reality or timeline." He leaned on one arm, waiting for her to give a retort at how fake it sounds, but to his surprise, all Shoko did was let out a long hum.

"Really?" She took the lollipop out between her lips and pointed it to both him and Suguru, "So, what were you two doing however many years from now?"

Shoko didn't really care whether or not it was real. It was something done by a curse, so there's no telling whether it was fake or if it was indeed real. But from Satoru's tone and Suguru's expression that followed, it didn't seem like it was fake. And, she knew the boys wouldn't lie about something that serious. If they did, their demeanour would've already been broken.

Either that, or they believed it since it was so real even though it was fake. Shoko didn't quite know which one it was, so she entertained the idea.

"We were teachers here." Gojo and Geto spoke simultaneously, "And you were a doctor here, too. But we didn't see you, they just spoke about you."

"Oh?" It was no surprise, since that was what she aimed to go for after she finished high school. "By 'they', you mean your teacher versions?"

"Yeah."

"So, what about your older versions did you want to tell me?"

The two males exchanged glances at each other, then looked at [name], then Shoko.

The hesitant looks they gave each other made Shoko wonder what happened over in the alternate timeline they've jumped to (provided it was true) and why they were like this.

"Spit it out."

"[name] was dead in that timeline." Satoru's fist clenched until his knuckles were white. He could remember his own older version's face, Suguru and his older version's as well, and his own from the information given in the alternate timeline.

He didn't like it one bit.

"[name]? Dead?" Shoko's spoke with mild surprise, not really believing his words. She still entertained him, though.

"Yeah. We thought it was fake too, Shoko, but they gave us all the evidence needed, and what happened in that world." Suguru spoke this time, his voice gentle and soft.

This time it was up to Shoko to narrow her eyes, suspicious. "Ok, so tell me what happened and why [name] is dead in that timeline."

It was a while until Suguru and Satoru filled her in on the details. They gave her longer answers than usual since they needed to set the scene, as well as tell them more about the context surrounding a world in the future.

"What the fuck." Shoko couldn't hold her shock at the turn of events. She didn't think you had it in you to do all that, especially if it was a possibility going into the future.

"I know right." Satoru sighed, laying on his back. "And whatever they've said about this time, we already know."

"It could be a curse messing with our memories." Geto pointed out an obvious possible fault in everything they've said, but Gojo shook his head.

"If it was fake, then why did my six eyes not work? The other me had his working just fine." Satoru mumbled, a bit annoyed yet slightly intrigued that his own powerful technique got overwritten in another world, much less by the same person as himself albeit older.

"You make a good point..." Shoko hummed, crossing her legs. "So then, if this was all true, and you read [name]'s letters to you, did it have any pointers in there?"

Geto nodded, "Apparently I was the one who figured out something was going on. But I don't know what. It didn't say."

Gojo added, "There was nothing on mine. Just them professing their love for me." He tried to break the ice a little since the atmosphere had become too heavy, but the comment made Geto slap him on the shoulder.

"[name] professed their love to everyone here, so you're not special." Geto rolled his eyes, a childish side of his coming out.

Gojo whined, sitting up and staring at your face with his arms crossed. "Well if they like us so much they should express it."

"They already do that. Don't tell me, you've fallen for them?" Shoko couldn't hide her smugness about the matter, wanting to tease him further. He was irritating, but sometimes it was easy to get a read on him.

Gojo shook his head, vehemently denying it with his whole being, similar to how a wet dog or cat would shake all the water off them when wet.

I didn't mean it in a serious way...Shoko took a look at Geto, who stared straight back, his thoughts written all over his face.

"Ok, ok, how about you're just very fond of them?" Shoko wanted to laugh at how Gojo acted, but the laughter died slowly in her throat as she realised she was also in the same boat as Gojo.

Shit, I need a cigarette. Or alcohol. Shoko couldn't do this sober.

Geto, realising everything going on, let out a genuine laugh, the first one of the evening. He knew his best friends like the back of his hand, and he knew their thoughts at this very moment, or at least a majority of it.

"Since we don't want the future we saw, let's do what we can." Geto took a step forward, resisting the urge to bump his forehead against yours. Instead, he opted for another boop on your nose.

"Yeah, I don't want to have to visit their grave on their death anniversary ever again." Gojo muttered somewhat spitefully.

He recalled the sad smile his older self had when he watched Suguru's older self place the flowers onto the makeshift grave. Heck, since you were treated as a curse user in that timeline, you didn't get a proper grave and instead was treated like shit after you died.

Like hell that is going to happen here, Satoru hoped his words and actions later down the track could help, but he was unsure how much he could.

Should I just get rid of the elders? Or should I convince [name] education is the way to go? His mind went through many possibilities in less than a second, and he was brought back to reality by Shoko sighing and agreeing all the same.

"I wasn't there, but I don't want to see [name] die so tragically. Nor do I want to see you two fight them." She threw her finished lollipop into the bin and stood up, "Gonna go for a smoke."

And she left.

Geto and Gojo sat in silence for what seemed like a long time, but was in reality just 2 minutes, before Geto started up conversation.

"It seemed like there was a lot [name] didn't tell us." He sounded lost and regretful.

"Makes me wonder if they trusted us at all." Gojo mumbled. "Or did they already say it, but no one listened?" He didn't mean any of the words in a spiteful nor mean way, it was more of an observation from what had already happened in an alternate timeline.

Geto paused for a moment, turning to Gojo as if he was a genius, "You're right. It took them a long time to hit breaking point, didn't it?" He remembered their older versions and the extra information they gave them. "Don't you think it was that elder who started everything?"

Gojo thought for a moment, "You mean he already started it."

"You're right. It's already starting to happen. [name] complains to me about the elder after they have a fight." A pause, "Do you remember when they said [name] killed him?"

"...3rd year. 3 days after a short holiday." Gojo recalled his older version's words.

"Ok, that makes probably around a year and three quarters left." Geto breathed out, "We have time." There was hope in his voice, and he was ready to do whatever it took to make sure you stayed with them.

Satoru grinned, standing up. "Yeah. We have time."

He turned to face your unconscious state, "Listen here [name]. There's no way we're leaving you behind. We've got lots to talk about, so you better be ready. We're not letting you go that easily." It almost sounded like a threat, but the way Gojo smiled genuinely through the whole one-sided interaction spoke volumes. He was serious about it, and it was almost like a promise he made with Suguru as a witness.

There were many things Gojo wanted to say, but he had no idea how to say it in the most Gojo way possible, otherwise that's just not him. But that'll be a problem for another day.

Suguru laughed at his best friend's antics, but agreed nonetheless. "Let's not hide anything, alright?" His words were softer, but it was also a promise to himself that he, too, needed to be more upfront with his thoughts and feelings.

"Make sure to tell us everything, ok?" Shoko gave your forehead a couple of taps, having come back from her smoke break quickly. She had stood by the door to listen just as Geto and Gojo had started talking about when [name] killed the elder in the alternate timeline, to see where they can go from there and how much time they had left until disaster struck.

"Shoko, that was fast." Geto and Gojo spoke in unison, watching her plop down back onto her seat.

"Had to make sure I came back down before [name] wakes up from how loud you guys are being." She teased.

"Oi!"

The three stayed like that and chattered away, filling the room with their joyous voices as they moved onto happier topics. Sometimes, it would veer into topics on how to make sure you stayed with them, but others, would be hopes for the future and what it will bring, should they change the trajectory in comparison to the alternate one.

There were many things for them to change, but the main thing was that they were never going to let you become their regret. Not in this timeline, never.

A/N: This one is somewhat of a sequel of this fic, and initially there wasn't going to be any, but I wanted to expand on some extra information about what reader/[name] has done, and what better way to do it but in an AU where another timeline comes into the original?

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noroi1000 · 5 months

Note

HI! I'm the one who asked if your request is open ^^

I'm just want to know how would it be if the mc/reader is the one who defected not suguru. How would both of them react. Thank you so much!

I've been reading you on AO3 and I'm so glad I found your tumblr too!

- 💫

Wild Animal

Summary: You were always their best friend. You were so tiny to them. You could fight; you were a sorcerer. But to make them smile at you again, you took their bad thoughts to make them smile. Instead of letting Suguru kill someone, you did it.

Warnings: mentions of death

You were so close to your friends. You were sometimes cute to them, sometimes funny. Sometimes pretty. Shoko has told you more than once that they like you. But how can a girl who is their friend fight for their hearts? Besides, you could never choose between them.

Even though you were starting to see that they were getting closer to you, much closer than to the others, you didn't want to do anything that would change your current life.

You were so docile to them. Even though you were strong enough with your technique to fight any of them. There's a reason why, when they were grade 1, you were grade 2. And then you were promoted to semi-grade 1. You were getting closer to them. And that was the point. When you are at the same level, you will be just like them!

You won't be weaker, and you won't be stronger.

But you were docile to them. You internally liked the feeling of them smiling at you so softly. And you were docile and sweet.

That's why Satoru said several times that you are like a cat. And Suguru confirmed it. To them, you were so docile.

Docile animals don't attack without reason, right? They won't do anything wrong, right?

After the mission with Riko, you collected their negative emotions for you.

You collected it, making them stop thinking about it.

They told you absolutely everything. Including their inner thoughts about it.

Right after everything that happened, thanks to Satoru, you understood what death is. He told you what it felt like to die. And you could have listened to him and hugged him.

Satoru understood that he was strong and that he had to protect weaker people. He is higher than others. And as someone stronger, he can keep them safe.

He understood something he had previously rejected.

But Suguru...

It was Suguru who knew the role of the sorcerer from the very beginning. That the sorcerer must protect non-sorcerers from curses.

But then... Suguru didn't know what was right or wrong anymore.

You hugged him and calmed him down. You did everything to make him forget about what happened.

You took his negative emotions for you too. You comforted him and told him not to think like that. You convinced him to smile. To live as it was before and not think about what had to happen anyway. He could fight, but someone would still lose his life.

Luckily, it wasn't him who died...

When you managed to see Satoru smile, Suguru wasn't smiling in any way.

„Why do sorcerers have to protect people?”

"Why do we have to protect them even if they are the ones creating the curses?"

„Why can't we eliminate the source of what is killing us?"

„Why can't we erase non-sorcerers?"

The questions that were swirling around in his head also started swirling in yours.

For several months, you did everything you could to convince him.

„You may hate non-sorcerers. But they cannot be completely eliminated. This is not something possible, Suguru.”

You had some important conversations with him. And he smiled at you.

He didn't have to worry as long as there was a ray of light in such a badly damaged Jujutsu society.

Even if Haibara was a clear example of this, you are still with them.

You helped him get out of his madness. You took all those bad thoughts away from him, and that's why he could only think about your funny words.

Not seeing that by taking their honest thoughts, you were destroying yourself from the inside.

If you combine the thoughts of both of them, something will come out that may be a solution for them to never think of such a thing again.

Satoru thought about how many people were dying. He was thinking about whether he should kill the cult members. He watched death, and he killed. He himself died.

After death, you can rise and become someone else.

Satoru, who understood more after death...

And Suguru... He had complete doubts about the lives of non-sorcerers.

Killing them so that only the sorcerers remain... Or forcibly turning them into sorcerers...

You took over their thoughts and started destroying yourself. You couldn't stand it... You couldn't stand what you knew.

You started to have a different view of the world.

Panic attacks that occurred at night. The fact that you were crying while sitting on your bed. You're fighting something made by humans...

People are afraid of disasters or that, at some point, artificial intelligence will eliminate them.

But they don't know that from the very beginning of their existence in the world, they have been creating something even more dangerous. Something that's around every corner and causes death...

People could change. But they are not sorcerers who can die and then rise from the grave.

You wanted to be that docile again. Let them hug you and play with them.

But you couldn't smile.

Witches and humans... It's all black...

There is no whiteness here.

Suguru and Satoru are shades of gray.

You are a black figure in the soul. You had shades of gray, but you agreed to accept all their negative thoughts. That's why you became darker.

You are as afraid of death as anyone else. But they were right.

You killed the first non-sorcerers for no reason. Simply because they cause sorcerers to have to protect them. It is because of people that sorcerers must exist. If it weren't for people, you too would be normal, and you would live a normal life. That's why... You didn't explain yourself to anyone.

Because no one would understand anyway...

Even those whose bad thoughts you turned into yours.

You could have been meek. But docile animals also sometimes attack when they have a reason.

You didn't want them to destroy themselves with what they thought.

So you will destroy yourself for them.

You can't be their girlfriend. You couldn't choose between them. You couldn't fall in love with them because it would destroy the friendship you've had for so many years.

You will destroy yourself so that they don't have to lose what they worked for. Strength, a high place in society, their friendship, and respect.

Everyone works for themselves and for only themselves.

You work for yourself, and you want them to get their dream worlds, at the cost of your life.

Because you agree with them...

What they thought was true.

Curse user?

Why you?

They were frozen when they heard this. You couldn't be a curse user! Not you! Of all the people around, you?!

The knowledge that you, their friend, who could be even closer, is a murderer and a curse user strikes knives in their hearts.

Their hearts were broken when you avoided them. They couldn't even find you. You escaped completely.

Even as special-grade sorcerers, they couldn't find you.

And tears came to their eyes every time they looked at your old photo.

They heard about the murders you committed. But they couldn't do anything.

They couldn't kill you.

But it was inevitable.

When no one could catch you, they were sent to kill a dangerous curse user.

Their docile kitty has changed.

But the sparkle in your eyes when you saw them didn't change.

You wanted to run away as soon as they stood in front of you.

You felt the sudden pressure of their energy pressing against yours.

You heard that they are much stronger now. These three years passed very quickly.

And in order to distract you from what was happening to you, they grew stronger. They trained.

To catch you in one move.

You didn't even feel like fighting. You felt like your body was ready to give up because it knew it had no chance.

Your waist was held in place by a strong forearm, and a large hand appeared over your mouth.

Your wrists were also grabbed.

You looked terrified at Suguru's hands that were holding you.

You jerked your body to try and get free.

They really didn't even move an inch.

"...Our kitty got claws. She's not so docile anymore." Satoru laughed, pulling you closer to his chest.

They can't kill you. They can't capture you and lead you to death.

Unless their superiors are suspicious, they will lie.

They will say they destroyed you on the spot.

In fact, you will just sit quietly at home. As a punishment, with no way out. So that you don't endanger them or you.

Suguru was even grateful to you for showing him what would happen to him if he followed that path. But he would never forgive himself for letting you die because of him.

Non-sorcerers are fools who deserve to die.

Sorcerers are crazy. And everyone has their own morality.

Suguru smiled, leaning slightly toward you.

"Satoru, claws can be trimmed. And a wild animal can be tamed and turned into a docile kitten."

@weebotaku21; @yihona-san06; @mikkies; @raysheil; @dreeamiea; @safaia-47; @porridgesblog; @weebnk-popper; @mc-reborn; @witchbybirth; @starlightanyaaa

#jjk x you #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto x reader

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saintsenara · 8 months

Note

are you still doing ur asks abt the ships? if u are what r ur thoughts on wolfstar? if not have a very good day!

thank you very much for the ask anon - and thank you in particular for leading me into danger...

my answer to this is going to be - and wolfstar shippers keep calm please - similar to my jegulus one, which means the tldr is: write what you want, but i’m unlikely to read it, especially if you don’t acknowledge the difference between canon and fanon.

i have no aversion to wolfstar coming up as a background ship (let them be happy while harry/anyone are having drama, i’m all for it) but i generally don’t search out fics in which wolfstar is (one of) the central pairing(s) and tend only to read wolfstar-centric stuff if it’s written or recommended by someone whose opinion i trust.

this isn’t because i think the pairing is unfeasible (the canonical sirius and remus very much have the vibes of people who have enjoyed each other’s bodies…) but because the community which has built up around wolfstar, both among ‘original wolfstar, y’know, like in canon’ fans and their sworn enemies ‘marauders fandom, canon who?’ fans, largely expects certain tropes and characterisations which divorce the characters from what i personally think is interesting about them.

the most egregious of these tropes, in my opinion, is the fact that wolfstar which purports to be canon-compliant or which follows the canon timeline deals so infrequently with the fact that both remus and sirius have such little trust in each other that they believed utterly sincerely that the other was a death eater.

it’s crucial that we understand the profundity of this suspicion and - therefore - what it says about the fragility of the loyalty between them prior to 1980-81. this is not a brief flash of distrust in a high-pressure couple of days at the end of october. the evidence of canon is that we’re talking about a period of months - if not a full year - in which remus and sirius not only think it justifiable to doubt the other’s loyalties, but also seem to be acting on that doubt to try to get the other in trouble.

harry is born in july 1980, at a point when voldemort has all but won the war. severus snape defects to the order at some point relatively soon after this, when voldemort decides that the potters are the family referred to in the prophecy. peter pettigrew then defects to the death eaters in the autumn of 1980 (sirius says in prisoner of azkaban that he was spying for a full year before voldemort’s fall).

snape then evidently tells dumbledore that there is a spy in the order - although he clearly doesn’t, despite a common accusation levelled against him, know this is pettigrew, since the voldemort of the first war has apparently heard of operational security, unlike his resurrected counterpart - and this leads dumbledore to demand a restriction on james and lily’s movements until - by august 1981 (the plausible date of lily’s letter to sirius) - they are basically under house arrest. the implication of canon is that, by this summer at the very latest, james and lily are aware they’re being spied on, from which i think it’s reasonable to infer three things: that dumbledore has begun to suspect that sirius is the spy over the opening half of 1981; that remus, who canonically always trusts dumbledore’s judgements, uses this to confirm his own suspicions about sirius; and that sirius, whose canonical relationship with dumbledore has an undercurrent of unease, especially in order of the phoenix, picks up on this and assumes remus is briefing dumbledore against him. i think it’s also reasonable to infer that the only person convinced there isn’t a spy among his close friends is james.

peter visits the potters’ safe-house and is aware of its address, so we can assume remus and sirius are the same. by october 1981, however, there are clearly concerns that james and lily’s whereabouts are known to the death eaters - perhaps also accompanied by information from snape that voldemort, who loves a bit of symbolism, has selected halloween as the day he will strike - which trigger dumbledore’s advice that they perform the fidelius charm. dumbledore’s unease when james picks sirius as secret keeper is confirmation that he had identified sirius as the spy. that remus is never suggested as a potential candidate is confirmation that sirius believes him to be the spy - and possibly also that james is beginning to think his best friend might be onto something (i always wonder if remus’ bitterness when accusing james of being too trusting in deathly hallows is a flash of self-loathing about the fact that james didn’t trust him). sirius then persuades james to use peter and, within a week of the charm being performed, james and lily are dead, peter has disappeared, and sirius is in azkaban.

[as an aside here, i don’t love the amount of dumbledore bashing in wolfstar, and i think it’s worth doing some dumbledore defence: sirius’ internment in azkaban without trial - a reference to an actual historical event, if you were thinking it sounded far-fetched - is not dumbledore’s fault. the wizengamot acts on dumbledore’s credible belief that sirius was the secret keeper, while sirius - who is cackling his head off the whole time - refuses to speak in his own defence. similarly, dumbledore does not deny sirius access to harry (via hagrid) when he arrives, distraught, in godric’s hollow because he’s contrived a machiavellian plan to keep harry alone and unloved with the dursleys instead of with his true family, but because all the evidence he has available to him is that harry’s life is in danger at sirius’ hands.]

so sirius spends the next twelve years in azkaban, with remus clearly nowhere near his mind. that he stays in prison, and only escapes when he has an unimpeachable chance to get his revenge and protect harry, is because he - like his narrative mirror, snape - is so haunted by his role (indirect, but he canonically thinks that he essentially cast the killing curse himself) in the death of someone he fiercely loved that he considers azkaban a punishment he deserves.

this links to the next issue i have with a lot of wolfstar: that the defining force in both remus and sirius’ lives is james, not each other. the dynamic of the marauders is frequently reduced to the following: wolfstar, who are best friends and lovers it would take the heat-death of the universe to pull apart; james and whatever romantic partner the story wishes to pair him with, who are the same; and peter, who is either there and completely futile, or is replaced with a fanonised female character (dorcas, marlene, alice etc. - none of whom, may i say, it makes sense to have in the same school year as the marauders, dumbledore is not actually running the order as a gang of child soldiers) or a woobiefied death eater (regulus black, barty crouch jr., evan rosier etc.).

but in canon, a different dynamic is clear. james is the lynchpin of the marauders’ world, the anchoring point to all their sense of self; and the moment he is out of the picture no bonds of loyalty remain among the other three. (it’s tempting to think that remus always harbours a belief that sirius is innocent, but i think that this would be less due to an unconditional affection for his friend and more due to the fact that his own self-loathing needs to believe that he couldn’t have stopped james and lily dying; which he should have done if sirius really was the culprit, since he clearly suspected he was a death eater).

if you asked remus, sirius, and peter, clearly each of them would describe james as their best friend (even though james’ eyes are only for sirius - he only has one best man, and harry only has one godfather), but their relationships with each other outside of james are less clearly defined, at least before sirius and remus are the only two left.

this doesn’t prevent pre-1981 (or james lives au) wolfstar - your boyfriend and your best friend being different people is fine, obviously - but it is going to change the dynamic between them in ways i think are significant and which i would like to see explored more, particularly in ways which acknowledge that - for remus and sirius - this dynamic might not lead to the healthiest relationship…

for example, during their schooldays, wolfstar are likely to talk to each other through james, rather than james being surplus to the flirtatious dynamic between them; remus is likely to feel awkward or insecure about the fact that sirius - whose personality is closer to james’ than his - is so happy and gregarious in james’ company; sirius is likely to resent remus’ tendency to stay out of the action, since the fact that he and james mutually encourage each other in their exploits is key to their relationship; remus is likely to resent the fact that sirius is treated by the potters as a second son, while he isn’t, and so on.

during the first war, even if we remove the fact they suspect each other of spying from the equation, they will clash over how to protect james, and remus will undoubtedly take this to mean that sirius cares more for james than for him. during the second war, the long shadow of james - so painful that remus can still barely talk about him, while sirius wants to do nothing but - will hover over everything.

and this leads on to the third reason i generally don’t enjoy wolfstar: that the complicated threads of their canon personalities are removed or reduced to irrelevance to make them fit fanon which has no basis in the books.

now, i’m not going to get into appearance discourse here, although yes, i prefer a tall sirius who tends to wear wizarding clothing and has never heard a single cool piece of muggle music in his life, and i prefer a hollowed and world-weary remus who doesn’t have visible scars. i think background discourse is slightly more important: a great deal of sirius is lost if he is turned into someone who likes being pureblood, who feels more comfortable around his ‘own kind’, or who aspires to sit on the hereditary wizengamot; a great deal of remus is lost if he is turned into someone who didn’t grow up in a loving home with parents who did their best, but whose inability to give him the childhood he really deserved in the face of the prejudice against werewolves in the wizarding world encouraged his absurd gratitude towards anyone who made even a half-hearted effort to act in his interests.

all of my preferred aspects of characterisation are canon-compliant. but deviating from total canon compliance is not a moral failing. the term is more flexible than some of its defenders acknowledge, and people are at perfect liberty to imagine that characters look, identify, or behave differently than they do in the canon narrative without that automatically bringing accusations of writing them out-of-character (after all, it’s clear in the books that both harry and hermione are white, but art and fics which portray them as a different race can still meaningfully be described as canon-compliant if that's an aim they're written to have).

similarly, rejecting canon compliance entirely is just as fine - i think you should indicate to your readers if you’re doing that, but i’m capable of using the back button and moving on with my life if you don’t.

the only hard and fast rule is don’t seek out people who do things differently to you and insult them directly, although i would also suggest that it’s worthwhile to spend a bit of time in introspection about how lots of popular wolfstar and the fandom around it - like the fandom around all slash ships - portrays queerness in ways which are heteronormative (i.e. exclusively equating bottoming with femininity) and portrays women in ways which are misogynistic (i.e. how tonks is often treated in wolfstar discourse).

however, with this said, i think there is a difference between rejecting canon compliance and yet still writing the characters in ways which feel connected in interesting ways to their complex canon selves, and just writing original characters named sirius black and remus lupin.

because i just cannot get on board with a remus who is written as the cleverest one of the four, as assertive and direct instead of avoidant and passive-aggressive, as anything other than incredibly selfish, as anything other than an extreme people-pleaser, as being soft and sensitive (his mild manner hides the fact that he is incredibly cold and calculating - this is a man who is prepared to execute wormtail in front of three children mere minutes after learning he’s still alive), as majorly regretting the snape-versus-werewolf incident (he loves it! snape is terrified of him! he downplays it constantly!), or as functioning as the moral heart of the marauders (when sirius says in order of the phoenix that remus tried to restrain their bullying of snape, he is doing it to make remus - who is incapable of self-criticism - feel better in the face of harry’s anger) when he is in fact quite morally cowardly.

and i cannot get on board with a sirius who is written as a goofy himbo, as a constant flirt and womaniser (more grey-ace sirius, i would like to see it), as the world’s wokest king (a man who’s upset his slave isn’t sufficiently deferential to him isn’t someone who’s going to speak in queer theory buzzwords - this, of course, doesn’t prevent sirius being written as queer, non-binary, trans, femme, and so on, it just means that authors have to deal with the fact that sirius’ way of existing as any of these things will be human, rather than perfect), as a small bean unable to take care of himself (he escapes from prison and swims across the north sea! he charges into danger at the drop of a hat!), as anything other than incandescently loyal to james and harry, as - after james’ death - anything other than completely wrecked by guilt over the fact he caused it, as best friends with his brother and his gang of slytherins, or as lacking the fundamental arrogance and cruelty which make him so interesting.

and wolfstar can work, absolutely, when these things are taken into account. i find the idea of second war remus and sirius, stuck in grimmauld place together, buying harry a joint christmas present, the last survivors in a generation completely hollowed out by loss, incredibly moving. remus' choice to self-destruct in half-blood prince - having lost sirius so soon after having found him again - does, i think, justifiably indicate a change in their relationship during order of the phoenix which can be seen as romantic. i find the idea of first war remus and sirius, each in love with a man they think is a spy, wonderfully bittersweet. i find the idea of school-aged remus pining desperately for a friend who is head-over-heels in love with james to be, quite frankly, canon.

and i also think that two original characters called sirius black and remus lupin can do whatever they want - i’ll just be closing my eyes, pretending i cannot see, and leaving them to it.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #wolfstar #i am once again in danger

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year

Text

Letters to a Goodbye

Part 2 of It's Okay. Let me Go

Summary: You gave Natasha an important mission to delivery the letters you've written before the time heist. These are those letters.

Warning: character death, guilt, good-bye letters, Natasha needs a hug in this one.

Word Count: 7.6

Natasha kept the letters with her till after the funeral. They felt heavy in her pocket but there was so much grief, it felt wrong to add more to it. But as the funeral died down, she was uncertain about the future, unsure of what the next move for the Avengers was. Wanda was the first letter. She found the Sokovian by the water’s edge, lost in her thoughts. The Black Widow walked over to her. “Hi,” she softly said, not wanting to disrupt the calm moment.

“Hi,” Wanda said, not looking away from the water. “I’m sorry about Y/n,” Natasha hated how much it hurt to hear your name. It felt like there was a snake wrapped around her heart and lungs, squeezing so tight. Wanda looked over her shoulder, her eyes were glossy with tears. “She was good.”

“Yeah, she was,” Natasha said, sitting down next to her. “I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked down at her hands at the mention of his name. A few tears left her eyes. “I wish we could have done more.” Wanda nodded, wiping the tears away.

“Me too,” they sat in silence, watching the water and the wind blow through the trees. Finally, Wanda’s letter became too heavy. She took it out of her pocket.

“Here,” she said, handing it to her. “I don’t know if this letter will help or hurt more. But knowing my sister, it will probably help.” Wanda took it with shaky hands.

“She wrote me a letter,” Wanda said in disbelief. Natasha nodded.

“Her backup plan as she called it,” the Russian picked up a rock and skipped it across the water. “It seems like she knew she wasn’t going to come home.” Wanda smiled, tapping the letter against her hand.

“That sounds like her,” Natasha nodded.

“I have more letters to give out,” she said, standing up. “But I’m here for you, Wanda. You aren’t alone in this.” She walked back towards the cabin.

“You aren’t either,” Wanda’s voice stopped the Black Widow. “I know a thing or two about grieving a sibling.” Natasha sighed.

“I feel like I’ve grieved her too many times,” she admitted not turning around to face her. “When I defected to SHIELD I never thought I’d see her again, I didn’t want to see her. So, I grieved for a sister I never wanted. But then Yelena and I reunited with her and a piece of me that I didn’t know was missing was found. We were going to be a family again. But now,” Natasha looked back at the witch. “She won’t be coming back this time. I wish there was a way to tell her we did it. We won.” Wanda smiled.

“She knows. They both do,” Natasha nodded, looking back at the cabin. Yelena was sitting on the steps of Tony’s cabin, watching Morgan play with Nathaniel and Lila. The blonde had barely said two words to her or anyone. “She’ll come around, Nat. Just give her time.” The redhead nodded.

“If you need someone. I’m here.”

Wanda watched Natasha walk back to the cabin. Her shoulders were hunched in grief. She was holding onto so much guilt but Wanda didn’t want to go through her mind to see what happened, it wasn’t her place. She looked at the letter in her hand, she felt undeserving of one. Her fingers traced over her name. Letting out a shaky breath, she opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Wanda -

I wish I could offer my condolence in person but like we talked about all those years life is so uncertain. I am deeply sorry about Vision and I wish there was more we could have done. I remember you asking me if I have ever found love and I said no. But I was wrong. Indeed, I never had a chance to find love like you and Vision but I found love in other things; my sister, my parents, and how beautiful the world is when you are free to live it. I have to admit I envy the love you and Vision got to share but I am also grateful. I can’t put into words the pain you must be feeling.

You have been through a lot, Wanda Maximoff. You’ve lost and gained and lost again. No, I didn’t ask Natasha for your story, it would be wrong of me. That being said, it would be unfair of me to ask you to keep an eye on Natasha and Yelena when you’ve gone through so much. That shouldn’t stop you from asking them for help. Natasha can be a little rough around the edges and be compared to a feisty cat but her heart is good. Our mother told us to never let the Red Room take our hearts and she kept hers. Now Yelena is probably quiet right now, her emotions all over the place. But I call her little sun for a reason. She provides a light to the world that no one else can. So let them be there for you, little witch.

I wish we could have had that girl’s night we talked about when the world wasn’t ending but it had to be me. I think you’d understand that. We’ll see each other in the next life but I hope not too soon. Live for me. Live for Vision. But most importantly live for yourself.

Wanda refolded the letter and placed it against her chest. She cried. Life was so unfair.

Natasha walked over to Steve. He changed out of his suit and tie and into his Captain America suit. A briefcase was in one hand and Mjolnir was in the other as he talked with Sam. Steve was preparing to return the stones to their correct spot. Sam saw her approaching and smiled at her. “All set soldier?” Natasha asked. Steve nodded.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Natasha smiled.

“Can I borrow you for a second?” She asked the super soldier. Sam patted Steve on the shoulder and walked over to Bucky. She found a picnic table, away from everyone, and she knew Steve was following her. She jumped on the top with her feet on the bench and Steve set everything down and sat next to her.

“Do you need a hug?” Steve asked. Natasha nodded, not trusting her voice. The super soldier put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. Natasha let out a shaky breath, enjoying the warmth he gave off. Steve was always naturally warm, it had to do with the serum running through his veins.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said. Her words were muffled as her face was buried in his chest. But she knew Steve could hear her. “She was my constant for 5 years. For 5 years, I knew she had my back.” Natasha ended the hug and put her arms on her lap, looking down. “How did you deal with it?” Steve looked at Bucky who was shaking his head at something Sam said, who was laughing. He must have told Bucky a joke.

“It was hard,” he finally said, looking back at Natasha. “But I had you and Sam. You helped a lot.” Natasha smiled. “You and Yelena will get through this. You guys are some of the strongest people I know,” Natasha cleared her throat. She pulled out his letter and handed it to him.

“She wrote you something,” Steve took it. “Before the time heist,” she stood up. “Be safe and come back to us.”

“I will.”

Natasha smiled, kissed his cheek, and walked over to the platform where Bruce was working. Steve was transported back to when they stood in front of Fury’s grave and she kissed him on the cheek, telling him to ask Sharon out. He looked at the letter in his hand, a little surprised you had the time to write to him. The super soldier opened the letter

Steve -

I knew you through stories before I met you. My father, the Red Guardian, told stories of how you and he fought. What he failed to tell me was that you were on ice long before he had a chance to meet you. But the man he made you seem like couldn’t compare to the man you are. You're courageous and you hold the weight of the world on your shoulders with a grace I envy. But I think that weight became too much.

I hate to admit but over the past 5 years, I grew to resent you and the other Avengers. You moved on, dealing with the guilt of the Battle of Wakanda in a way that was best for you. Because of that, you didn’t see the guilt that ate at Natasha. You didn’t see the late nights that nightmares kept her up or days I had to force her to eat something because she didn’t deserve food. I’m not telling you this to fill you with guilt. I envied you and the others because you could move on. In the end, you all came back together to rewrite a wrong.

The Avengers are a beautiful family. As families go they have their ups and downs, they fight and forgive, and love each other to the very end. I am glad my sister had you when they needed a family. Your family taught them how to love, laugh, smile, and be free.

You are a good man, Steve Rogers. I hope the best for you and the rest of the team. Thank them for me for being there for Natasha and Yelena when I wasn’t. Thank you.

Steve reread the letter and folded it, placing it in his pocket. He looked up and saw Natasha talking with Sam. He said something that made her laugh. It was good to see her laugh.

Natasha waited with bated breath as she listened to Burce's countdown to bringing Steve back. The doctor right before sending Steve back told her that he tried to bring you back, Vision too. Bruce said one and Steve appeared, a little disoriented when his helmet came off. Natasha noticed he had tears in his eyes. “I tried,” he said. “I tried.” Natasha knew what he meant.

Bucky was saying goodbye to T’Challa. Natasha was surprised to see his name among your letters but the man trained you at one point. He turned around and was surprised to see her. “Natalia,” he said as he walked over.

“Bucky, how are you?” The man looked tired.

“I’m ready for the fighting to be done,” Natasha nodded. She understood that feeling too well.

“I have something for you,” she handed him the letter. “Y/n wrote to you before -” she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. Bucky took the letter with his flesh hand.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m still getting my memories back, some things are clearer than others. But you sister I remember. She wouldn’t stop talking about you and Yelena,” Natasha fought tears that swelled in her eyes. “It was rather annoying at times.” He said it with a smile and it made Natasha laugh as she whipped away a few tears. “She helped me a lot during that time.”

“Yeah,” Natasha whispered. “I’ll see you around Bucky.”

“Nat,” the Black Widow stopped and faced him. “I’m here for you. Just let me know what I can do.” She didn’t respond but nodded her head. Buck found a quiet place to sit, away from prying eyes, and opened the envelope.

Bucky-

I bet you are surprised that I wrote you a letter but as you’ve come to know I do everything for a reason. I researched what HYDRA did to you and who you were before the man who trained me and so many other girls. I hope you don’t mind but I’m sorry that they put you through that. We had more in common than we thought. So I’m not sure how you remember me but I remember everything; every mission we went on, every minute we trained together, and every time they forced me to watch you get strapped to that chair.

On our last mission, we wrote a list together of things we wanted to do once we were free. Do you remember what we wrote? I found the list not too long ago. So now that you are free, finish this list for me.

Watch a sunset on a beach

Eat ice cream

Go dancing

See the Grand Canyon

Ride a rollercoaster

Go to the movies

Go on a date

Swim in a pool

Dance in the rain

Smile more

Be Happy

Enjoy the freedom, Bucky. You’ve earned it.

Bucky remembered that mission and the list you created. It was a stake and they had time as they sat and waited for the target. He was going to finish this list for you as you were a bright light during his time, it only seemed right.

Finally, Natasha sat down with a sigh. Her body ached down to her bones. She knew it was from everything that had happened. “Is this seat taken?” Clint asked, pointing to the empty spot next to her. Natasha shook her head. The archer sat down next to her, releasing a sigh of his own. “Where are you and Yelena headed to after this?” It took Natasha a second to reply.

“St. Petersburg,” she whispered. “We are going to visit Melina and Alexei,” She called them. It was a short call, a moment of peace amongst the chaos to tell them what happened.

“After that, you are welcome at the farm,” Clint said. “You aren’t alone in this.” It was the sentiment that everyone was giving her. You aren’t alone. I’m here for you. And Natasha was thankful for it but she didn’t want kind words, she just wanted her sister back.

“We may take you up on that,” she had to go find Yelena. “For you,” she handed him the letter. Clint hesitated but took it from her. “Safe travels back home. I’ll call you when we get to Melina’s.”

Clint grabbed Natasha’s hand and pulled her into a hug. The Black Widow tensed up not expecting the hug but soon relaxed in his arms. He felt her tears on his shirt. He understood. It could have been either of them, taking that leap to bring everyone back. But they were alive and they had to deal with you being gone.

He waited to read his letter, keeping it in his pocket on the flight home and the drive up to the house he hadn’t seen in 5 years. It was still there for family dinner and movie night, putting his kids to bed, and laying next to his wife. When Laura fell asleep, he crept down to the kitchen and sat at the dining room table with a bottle of scotch and the letter open.

Clint -

You were sent to kill my sister. You were given a mission to eliminate one of the Red Room’s best agents. But you didn’t. You ignored a direct order and gave her a chance to walk away. In doing so, you gave them freedom and I can’t thank you enough for that.

In those 5 years, you dealt with the Blip in a way you understood. You grieved for a family that was taken away from you, not by your choice. I understand that feeling far too well. You are not a monster or a bad person, who isn’t deserving of this chance to be with your family. You are human. Humans have complicated and messy emotions. So hug your family tight and tell them you love them.

I was in Budapest when you, Natasha, and Yelena destroyed half the city to try to kill Dreykov. As they and you know now it didn’t work. But I don’t want to dwell on that. I want to focus on the good and that is the unbreakable relationship you forged with my sisters. You put yourself in danger to help them defect to a better life. That takes a special (or stupid) type of person to do that.

You, your wife, and your kids invited Yelena and Natasha into your family. I saw how much it hurt Nat that she couldn’t bring you home like she was failing you. But you are home now. Continue to look after them for me. I wish we had more time to get to know each other and that I got to meet Nathaniel. You're a good brother to them, Clint. So thank you.

“Clint?” He looked up through his blurry eyes and saw Laura. She was wearing a robe and a small smile on her face. Without saying anything, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. The archer rested his head on her chest and cried.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

Pepper got a hotel room for those who didn’t feel like traveling, the woman was a saint. Natasha opened the door to her and Yelena’s room with food from a nearby burger place. Yelena was sitting on the balcony, her feet on the metal railing. She hadn’t said anything to Natasha but her eyes were red and blotchy from her tears. “I got your favorite,” she said, placing the food on the small table. “Well, I tried to get your favorite.” Natasha pulled out two burgers and a large fry. She got Yelena a chocolate and peanut butter milkshake. But the blonde made no move to grab the food. “Please eat,” Natasha said. “For me.” She added. The words left her mouth so effortlessly that they caused her throat to close up. When the guilt got too much, those 2 simple words got her to eat. But Yelena didn’t. She stood up and walked back into the hotel room. “Yelena,” She called after her. “Talk to me please.” Yelena stopped.

“What is there to say?” She asked. Her Russian accent laced the words. It only happened when she was drunk or she was emotional.

“Anything. Just don’t shut me out.” Yelena slowly turned around to face her.

“How did she die?” She asked. Natasha felt her heart skip. Deep down she knew Yelena had every right to know the truth but Natasha wasn’t ready for that conversation.

“What?”

“How. Did. Our sister. Die?” She asked, taking steps to close the distance between them. “I’ve tried to get someone to tell me. I asked Steve, Rhodney, Clint, and even Rocket but no one would tell me. So tell me,” Natasha couldn’t. How could she look in her baby sister’s eye and tell her she was going to lose someone she cared about no matter who came home from Vormir.

“She died to bring everyone back,” Yelena scuffed, throwing her arms to the side. The answer wasn’t what she was looking for. Natasha went to her nightstand and pulled out Yelena’s letter. “Here, she wrote this. It's for you.” Yelena took it. She stared at it, an unclear expression on her face. Soon it morphed into anger.

“I don’t want this,” she threw the letter to the ground. “I want her back.”

“I know-”

“You don’t know!” Yelena yelled. “You don’t know anything. I wanted more time with her. You got 5 extra years with her. That’s not fair!” Natasha let Yelena yell at her. She let her words bounce off of her. At least she was talking even though her words were laced with venom. “We should have gone back for her.” The sudden conversation switch gave Natasha whiplash.

“What are you talking about?” Natasha asked.

“We should have known that the Red Room was still active and that she was trapped. She would have come looking for us if she could have. But you didn’t care about her,” Yelena pointed at Natasha. “You didn’t want to face her and share what we found. You were being selfish. Why didn’t we go back for her?” Natasha was shocked into silence, barely recognizing the girl that stood in front of her. Yelena whipped the tears off her face and turned to leave the room. She opened the door, almost running into Maria as she stormed past. Natasha sat on the food of her bed, hands covering her face. She knew better than to now follow Yelena. The blonde needed to cool down. But the words thrown at her didn’t help the guilt already eating at Natasha.

“I heard yelling and I wanted to see if everything was okay,” Maria said, walking into their room. Natasha didn’t look up. “I can see that it isn’t,” she laughed bitterly, uncovering her face. “Do you need a hug, to talk, or a drink?”

“A drink. I need a drink.”

When Natasha stumbled into her hotel room after a few too many drinks with Maria, she was greeted with darkness. But she did see Yelena’s sleeping form in bed and the letter was picked up. The Black Widow slipped underneath the covers and sleep welcomed her.

It was a strange Deja Vu moment as Natasha walked up to the farmhouse with Yelena next to her. The last time she was here, her family was whole, broken but whole as they tried to come up with a plan to take down the Red Room. Every time you asked her to visit Melina, Natasha gave an excuse. Maybe she should have joined you. The door opened and Melina and Alexei walked out. Natasha heard Yelena let out a shaky breath and quickened her steps to reach the older Russian. Melina opened her arms to engulf the blonde. Natasha slowed down to give the two some space. Being here will be good, she thought. Yelena ended the hug and walked over to Alexei. The Russian super soldier was unsure of himself but Yelena hugged him and he hugged her back. It was a quick hug but Natasha saw Yelena nod at something Alexei said and walk into the house. Natasha continued walking and only stopped when Melina stood in front of her. “Natasha.”

“Hi mama,” she wasn’t expecting the older Black Widow to give her a quick hug.

“You look tired,” Melina said, taking a step back to look at her.

“I’m hungover.”

“Ah,” she smiled. “That would do it. Come, I’ve made food and I can get you something for that hangover.” They walked back to the house in silence. Natasha had three more letters; one for Melina, one for Alexei, and then her’s. She had no idea how you wrote all of these in a short amount of time. Alexei greeted her with a smile.

“Natalie,” he said. “I’m sorry about Y/n.” She wondered how long it was going to be until hearing your name stopped hurting.

“She would be glad it worked and you came back to annoy us with stories of your glory days.” Natasha teased. Alexei laughed and followed her into the house. “Where is Yelena?”

“She asked me where Y/n’s room was,” he said. “I wasn’t if it changed.”

“It didn’t,” Melina assured him but Natasha wasn’t listening. She walked over to the dining room table and it was covered with photos of you and Natasha assumed were other Widows. She recognized one and picked up the photo of you and Soyna with baby pigs, warm smiles on both of your faces. “Some of the Widows want to have a small service for her,” Melina said, standing next to her. “They asked me to get a few things out. I can put it away.”

“No,” Natasha said, putting the picture down. “You can keep it out.” She forgot that part of your life as it seemed like a lifetime ago. While she and Yelena were on the run from the government, you were cleaning up the mess the Red Room made. A mess that shouldn’t have happened if Natasha just went back for you. Maybe Yelena was right. “How is that going?” She asked, following Melina into the kitchen. Melina directed her to sit at a small table. She did and watched the odd Russian couple interact with one another. Alexei may have been gone for 5 years but they moved smoothly in the kitchen. He poured bowls of soup from a pot while Melina made a drink. He set one bowl down in front of Natasha and went to take the other to Yelena.

“We made progress during those 5 years a lot of the Widows were Blipped,” Melina put a glass on the table and sat down with a sigh. “Which is still an awful name.” Natasha smiled, taking a spoonful of the soup. It was good. It provided her with the warmth that she was missing. The drink on the other hand made her gag.

“Did you put vodka in this?” She asked.

“What do you Americans say, ‘hair of the dog?” Natasha rolled her eyes. “But with everyone being back, there is still work that needs to be done.”

“We or I can help,” it was the least she could do and she wasn’t sure what Yelena wanted.

“Soyna is handling it for now,” Melina put her hand over Natasha. “How are you doing?” Natasha wasn’t sure. She wanted to wake up and for this to be a horrible dream.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

“Well, you can stay here as long as you need to figure it out,” Melina said. “They may be some extra clothes that she left here but we can go into the city to get you stuff.” Nothing survived the compound being attacked.

“Thank you,” Alexei came back without the bowl in his hand.

“Yelena asked me to tell you she wants to see you. The room is down the hall and to the right,” Natasha went without another word. She found her sister, sitting on the floor with her back against the bed. Without saying a word, Natasha sat down next to her. In her hands was a photo strip that was ripped on one edge.

“I miss her,” Yelena whispered, putting her head on Natasha’s shoulder.

“Yeah, so do I.”

Melina told Natasha that Alexei liked to go fishing when she asked where the super soldier was. There was a creek that flowed on the edge of the property. So Natasha went to find him. It wasn’t hard but the Black Widow was surprised by how peaceful it was and how quiet Alexei was. “Come join me, Natalia,” he said, not taking his eyes off the water. Natasha sat on a rock next to him. “When your sister was here and not freeing Widows, I tried to get her to come fishing with me,” he chuckled. “She wasn’t happy with the early wake-up calls but I told her it was good for her. I probably told her a cool Red Guardian story.”

“Super cool,” Natasha teased. The man smiled.

“I think I was trying to make it up to her,” he said. “I wasn’t the father you girls deserved.” Natasha looked away from him and stared out at the water.

“I remember that day so clearly,” she finally said. “For a second, I thought you’d listen to her. You were going to take Yelena and me back to Ohio,” she looked back at him. “But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” he softly said. He brought the line back in and cast it out.

“Do you regret it?” He didn’t respond right away, focused on letting more lines out.

“I don’t know,” Natasha knew it was a complicated question. “I mean I wish you girls didn��t have to go through that but would you and Yelena have become Avengers if I disobeyed an order?” He asked. She wasn’t sure. One of the many possibilities on how her fate could have been different. Natasha took out his letter and handed it to him.

“She wrote you something,” she stood up, whipping the dirt off her pants. “Maybe I’ll join you out here tomorrow.” Alexei nodded, looking down at the letter in his hands. Natasha smiled, leaving the super soldier alone.

Dad-

I remember that day in Cuba so vividly. I had that gun pointed at you and I was ready to fight you and every guard there, even when I knew I didn’t stand a chance. So I pleaded with you to take Yelena and Natasha back home and take me instead. But you didn’t. It made me question if you ever truly cared about us. The first few days I was so angry with you. I hated you. For 3 years you were my dad and I was your daughter. Was it just a mission to you? Did you ever care?

I think it was both. You were following orders but there were moments when I think you cared about us. Remember when a girl in my class said no when I asked her to go to a dance? You asked me if you wanted to go threaten her. Or when some neighborhood kids were picking on Yelena you taught her to stand up for herself. She gave the kid a black eye and as Melina punished her you gave her a candy bar. Natasha wanted to play on the baseball team instead of softball and you stayed up with her to teach her how to catch a baseball and throw one. The mission didn’t require you to do those things. You wanted to be somebody to someone; someone important. You choose Dreykov when to us you were already the most important person. Mission or not, you are our father.

If you are writing this then our plan worked and I didn’t come home but that’s okay. I got to experience the father you could be for 2 years now it's Natasha and Yelena’s turn. Take them to your fishing spot, teach them how to help Melina with the pigs, tell them stories about the birds that visit the farm, and most importantly love them because I know you do.

Also, I fought with Captain America so suck on that!

Alexei laughed, shaking his head. Of course, you would end a goodbye letter in a way to make him laugh. He folded the letter and tapped it against his hand. Cuba will always haunt him. He could see the fear in your eyes and your tears as you pleaded with him to disobey Dreykov. Alexei sighed and looked toward the way Natasha walked. He was going to make it right and be the father they needed.

After dinner, Natasha found Melina in her workshop creating more of the Red Dust. “I have something for you,” Natasha said. Melina put the test tubes down and looked at her. The letter was already in Natasha’s hand.

“Alexei told me about his letter,” she handed Melina the letter. “Have you read yours?” The redhead shook her head.

“If I read it then it cements that she's not coming back,” she said. “That she’s gone.” Melina put the letter down on her workbench.

“Come sit,” Natasha sighed, sitting down next to Melina. “There is a Hebrew poem about death and in that poem, there is a line, ‘As long as we live, they will live, for they are now part of us, as we remember them.’ She may have died but she isn’t gone. She’s here,” she pointed to Natasha’s head. “And here.” She pointed to her heart.

“It’s the same,” Melina nodded, whipping away a few tears. Natasha didn’t realize she was crying.

“No, it’s not but it’s our new normal.”

Natasha stayed with Melina as she worked. Finally, the redhead retired to her room. Melina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She went through the Red Room 3 times before any of her children were born. They taught her how to control her emotions but she felt so out of control right now. When Natasha called her and told her of your passing and that she and Yelena were headed to St. Petersburg when they had a moment, all Melina could say was ‘okay’. But deep down her heart was aching. It felt unfair how little time you had. She picked up the letter, carefully opened the envelope, and unfolded the paper.

Mama-

So many years ago you told us to not let them take our hearts. That simple saying kept me alive, it gave me the strength to continue and made me a better person. It made me realize that you kept yours. I remember the look in your eyes when you said, ‘I’m sorry’ to us when Alexei told us we were leaving. You didn’t want to leave either. I wonder what our life would be like if we got to stay in Ohio. Would I go to college? Would Natasha play sports in high school? Would we interrogate Yelena’s prom date and tell them to have her home by 10? These questions kept me up at night and they would hurt.

I’m grateful for the few extra years we had together; late nights in your lab working in silence, cooking dinner for the few Widows that were living with us and helping you take care of the pigs. I wish we had more of those memories but I cherish that.

Do me a favor. Step out of your lab and live. Smile. Be happy. Live your life and breakthrough that conditioning they put you through. It will be hard and painful and scary but it will be worth it. Allow yourself to smile and laugh at Alexei. Cry over stupid rom-com movies. Live for me, mama. I’ll miss you.

Melina dropped the letter down to her desk. She felt the tears form in her eyes. Her throat burned. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried. She covered her mouth and cried.

It was now or never. Natasha paced back and forth in her room with the letter resting on her bed. She couldn’t bring herself to read it. Frustrated, she put the letter on the nightstand, slammed the drawer shut, and climbed into bed.

Screaming woke Yelena up. She jumped out of bed and ran to the door. The scream was from Natasha’s room. She opened the door, almost ripping it off the hinges, and saw Natasha thrashing under the covers. Yelena ran to her side. “Natasha,” she said. “Natasha, wake up. It’s just a nightmare. You're safe.” Her sister woke up with a gasp, eyes frantically darting around the room. “Hey,” Yelena sat on her bed, grabbing onto her face. “You’re okay. I’m here. It’s okay.” She heard Alexei and Melina enter the room but she ignored them. The last time she saw Natasha this broken was after the battle against Thanos at the compound when she learned of your death. Natasha choked on a sob and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she said. It was hard to hear over her tears. “It should have been me,” Yelena pulled away, still keeping her hands on Natasha’s arms.

“What are you talking about?” She took a few breaths to calm herself down.

“We came up with a plan,” Melina sat at the edge of the bed and Alexei took a seat in the corner. “It involved all of us separating into groups and going back in time to get the infinity stones from different parts of the pass,” Yelena understood every other word Natasha just said. Bruce tried to explain it to her when she asked how they did it. “Clint, Y/n, and I went to Vormir,” she stopped, shaking her head. “I should have seen it but I didn’t, not like she did. When we got there, the guardian greeted us. He said -” her voice cracked. “He said that the 2 of us were going to get the stone but one of us was going to lose everything; in every listing exchange. A soul for a soul,” Natasha looked down at her lap. “She hit Clint with her Widow Bites and ran for the cliff. I tackled her but she flipped me over. She jumped but I jumped after her,” Yelena’s hands squeezed Natasha’s arms. “I grabbed her hand and attached myself to the cliff with a grappling hook.” Natasha looked up at her sister. “I pleaded with her to not do it but she kicked the wall and slipped out of hand.” The room was stunned into a heavy silence. Yelena looked at Alexei and Melina, their faces were neutral but their eyes portrayed their true feelings. They didn’t know either. “It should have been me,” she said again.

“No,” Yelena said. “No, don’t say that. How could you say that?” She asked, pushing Natasha on the shoulder.

“It’s true! You said you wanted more time with her. We just got her back and now she’s gone because I-” her voice cracked. “I didn’t save her again.”

“Natasha,” Melina said. “Your sister was as stubborn as you.” Yelena hated the usage of ‘was’. “There was no stopping her.” The redhead pushed the palm of her hands against her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Yelena wasn’t sure how to help her. She’s never seen her this distraught.

“Sometimes in our lives, we’ll have pain and sorrow,” Yelena whispered. “But if we are wise we know that there’s always tomorrow. So lean on me when you’re not strong and I’ll be your friend. I’ll help you carry on,” she remembered the phrase you used to say to them when life became too hard, nightmares, fights, and when they were being transported to the Red Room. It felt wrong on her lips but Yelena knew her sister needed it. Her shoulders relaxed at the familiar phrase. “I miss her, I do, and I love her. But I need you. I don’t want to choose between losing you or her. I just-” Yelena was struggling to find her words. “I need you. You're my sister, my best friend.” Natasha nodded, pulling Yelena into a hug.

“I’m here,” she said. Yelena felt Natasha’s heart beating.

“We are all here,” Alexei said. “Family, right?”

“A pretty dysfunctional one,” Natasha mumbled. Yelena laughed, ending the hug and looking at Melina and Alexei. This was the reason you gave up your life for these moments. Yelena was still so angry but these moments made it feel worth it.

Yelena waited until Natasha fell asleep and she snuck back into her room. With a sigh, she sat down on her bed and pulled out the letter from underneath her pillow. She ran her thumb over her name and finally opened it. When she opened the envelope, she was surprised to find a sticky note instead of a piece of paper. On the sticky note, a micro SD card was taped onto it, and ‘Throw on the ground’ was written on it. Her hands shook as she took off the card and threw it on the ground. As it landed, a blue hologram version of you appeared. Yelena’s heart skipped and her stomach dropped. You were wearing your tactical suit.

“Is this recording?” You asked, looking up.

“Yes, Miss. Y/n,” the AI answered. You laughed. God, Yelena missed it.

“Sorry FRIDAY,” you smiled. “This is my first hologram.” You looked at Yelena and the air left her lungs. My malen'koye solnyshko (little sun),” she never thought she would hear you say that name. You didn’t say anything but stared ahead. “You are the first letter I’ve written because there is so much I want to say but I don’t know where to start,” you let out a shaky breath. “I am so proud of you. Over the past few years, I looked up all the different missions you and Nat did with SHIELD and the Avengers and you did amazing things. You saved so many people and I am speechless about the woman you’ve become. You aren’t that scared little girl that came running to me when it thundered,” Yelena was still scared of them. “You are brave, wise, smart, and beautiful. You-” Your voice cracked. “Wanda said to me that you wished we had more time together and so do I but it's,” you sighed. Yelena could see the tears running down your cheeks and she knew her face mirrored you. “I want to say it’s okay but we both know it’s not. The world can be a cruel place full of darkness and loss and death and you begin to wonder if what we do is worth it. Because as soon as we remove one man from power another will take its place and the cycle will continue.” You sighed, running your hands through your hair.

“We’ve seen that darkness. You, Natasha, and I were subjected to it and forced to be a part of it. So yes, the world is dark but it’s also beautiful. I got to see a small glimpse of the life you and Natasha created. I watched the sun rise and fall on the compound and count the stars. There are so many stars in the sky I must have been too busy to look up.

“And no your back and I’m gone. My malen'koye solnyshko (little sun). You bring so much light into this beautiful world. Please don’t let my death darken it,” you smiled, wiping away your tears. “Also, be nice to Natasha this wasn’t her fault and I know she’s blaming herself. You guys are going to be just fine. Do you know why?”

“Why?” Yelena found herself asking.

“Because my sisters are the strongest in the world,” you mimicked Alexei’s accent which caused Yelena to laugh. “You're my hero Yelena. Thank you for allowing me to be your sister. I love you.” The hologram disappeared. Her room was quiet besides the pounding of her heart.

“You are my hero, sestra,” Yelena whispered. “You are mine.

Natasha woke up and saw Yelena sleeping next to her. Her cheeks had tear stains. She slowly sat up but the movement caused Yelena to groan, her eyes fluttering open. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered. Yelena nodded, her eyes already closed. Natasha got out of bed and took the envelope out of the nightstand. On quiet feet, she ventured out of the house. She sat on the grass and opened the envelope. She pulled out a sticky note with a micro SD card and wrote on it, ‘Throw on the ground.’ Confused, Natasha threw the card on the grass and a blue hologram appeared. It was you. The day of the time heist. “You son of a bitch,” Natasha gasped.

“Natasha,” you smiled. “I’m sorry that this has happened. I think the universe likes to keep you and me and Yelena apart. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t together or a family.” You sighed, rubbing the back of your head. “I’m not sure what words to say to make this better. Maybe I’m not supposed to make it better, it’s going to be your new normal,” you threw your hands to the side. “I don’t know what to say to you, Nat. I want to give you some sisterly advice or thank you for those 5 years we had together or how much you mean to me as a sister but I think you know that, right?” Your voice was so soft and quiet. “I know you know. I’d do anything for you and Yelena even if a certain redhead reminded me that we weren't,” you teased. Natasha rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll give you this. No more guilt, okay? And I know I saw that like it was the easiest thing in the world and I know it isn’t. But everything that has happened to me and every girl that was part of the Red Room was not your fault. One person can not save the world, that’s too much pressure.

“I won’t keep this long because I don’t want this to be a goodbye letter. So get out from behind your desk. Find love. Get married. Buy a house with a white picnic fence and a big yard for your dog and kids. Live. Because life,” your hologram looked over your shoulder. Natasha remembered you had a window in your room, you must have looked at it but your hologram turned to look at the Russian sunset. “Is beautiful.” Natasha felt tears run down her cheeks. “Don’t cry for me. I’ll be with you always.”

Natasha looked over her shoulder to see Yelena walking over to her with a blanket over her shoulders. She smiled at the hologram version of you as it disappeared. She sat down next to Natasha, putting the blanket over her shoulders. The sun was slowly rising into the sky, indicating a new day. For the first time in a long time, Natasha took a deep breath in and slowly let it out and her guilt wasn’t as crushing. It would take time for the hurt to ease but she felt free.

You watched your sister look towards the Russian sunrise. With a smile, you walked over to Natasha and sat down next to her. You loved the color of the sky in the morning. ‘Come on, kid,’ you turned around to see Tony. ‘We can’t stay.’ You looked back at your sisters.

‘I think I’ll stay,’ you said. ‘I’d like to see where life takes them.’

Fin.

This was fun! Sorry everyone

550 notes · View notes

cherryslyce · 11 months

Text

The Avarice Files (I) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Boundless uncertainty ensues when you’re tasked to complete a mission requiring time travel for the Ministry. The best part? Your partner, acclaimed hero of the Great Wizarding War, Regulus Black, a man who was supposed to be long dead.

Part II / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant. The synopsis has been edited to be more succinct!

Soft clicks emit throughout the sterile hallway, bouncing from the glossy black tiles and toward the arching ceiling as you pace toward the imposing steel doors. The two guards stationed on either side of the thick barrier give you a nod of acknowledgment as you feel your new badge pulse in your pocket, the intangible magic colliding with the intricate mechanisms of the doors.

The stirring of gears and locks echo between the three of you until both slabs of steel soundlessly swing open, immediately gracing you with a gust of cool air. The outstretch of navy carpet swirls across your vision as the pitch-black ceiling and walls siphon away any excess color. To your right, a large succession of trimless mirrors reflects the beams of white light on the ceiling, lining the walls up until the large desk rooted at the extremity of the room.

“Welcome, Agent.”

The rumbling voice snaps you from your reverie as your eyes fall upon the stern face of your new boss, his staggering figure nearly washed away by the layers of black robes adorning him.

“Unspeakable Gawdry,” you greet with a level tone, inclining your head to the side as you briskly make your way to him. “I’m afraid that it's now, former agent, sir.”

Your light correction fails to faze him as his mouth remains in a firm line, gloved hands splaying themselves across his speckless desk as he moves to sit down on his leather chair. “Actually, agent, I believe such a title will be suitable for your duties here.”

“Sir?” You trail off, standing across from him as your fingers itch to fiddle with your holstered wand.

“Now, you didn’t think someone of your caliber would be a mere office assistant, did you? Your skillset on the field is the reason why I accepted you to be my new assistant, Agent.” Gawdry continues, pulling out one of his drawers without looking away. “It’s those skills that I intend to put to use.”

Before you’re able to respond, the man slides a clipped folder toward you, eyebrows raising as he gestures for you to read through it.

Tentatively grasping at the folder, you flip through the countless pages with a frown.

Daily Prophet: Defected Death Eater Dies!

— September 8, 1979

Second son of Walburga and Orion Black and Heir of the Noble House of Black, Regulus Black, has unexpectedly died. Just two weeks since the fall of You-Know-Who, reports from Albus Dumbledore himself confirm the young Black’s prior involvement with aiding the Light side against Death Eater forces. The Hogwarts headmaster conveyed that the young Black’s help was integral to the armistice and defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Young Regulus Black, described as a profound force in the classroom by Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn, is said to have fallen into critical condition shortly after his defection. Before succumbing to his fate, the young wizard outlined crucial information that was imperative to concluding the miasma of carnage.

“It is truly a deep tragedy to watch such a bright mind gradually wither away. With Mr.Black’s death, we must be vigilant in our future struggles against great darkness.” – Albus Dumbledore

“The loss of such a capable wizard… It is unforgivable. Really, the loss of so many courageous wizards and witches, it is an insurmountable grief for many years to come.” – Minister Mangum

Dear readers, in times of celebration for the new era, we must also keep our fallen in our hearts. The fate of the House of Black remains uncertain, but Regulus Black’s tremendous sacrifice must not be forgotten.

(Turn to page 5 for exclusive interviews with Arnold Vall)

You heave out a small sigh at the flimsy clipping, remembering the day you read the very same article at your dinner table. However, it is not the aged Daily Prophet snippet that renders you speechless, but the stack of papers underneath it– papers you recognize from the Auror Department: an agent’s composite mission profile.

Regulus Arcturus Black (b.1961 – )

“Death’s Herald”

Service: 1980 – Present

Status: Active

Completed Assignments: 501

01.25.80 - 02.29.80: Recovery of Helena’s Trove. Calais, France.

03.02.80 - 03.05.80: Rescue of Auror Tinsley. Birmingham, England.

03.08.80 - 03.24.80: Capture of Antonin Dolohov & Augustus Rookwood.

03.30.80 - 04.16.80: Capture & disposal of [redacted].

04.22.80 - 04.23.80: Disposal of Reginold Flint.

04.26.80 - 04.29.80: Disposal of Pyrites Ingrim II.

05.02.80 - 05.02.80: Disposal of Leon Wilkes.

05.06.80 - 05.07.80: Disposal of [redacted] Org.

05.11.80 - 05.14.80: Disposal of Henry Binns

07.15.90 - Pending: Retrieval of [redacted]

Your eyes are practically bulging from their sockets as you peer up, the fine text of dates and the slew of disposal, disposal, disposal causing your eyes to dry. “Sir? I don’t understand… Regulus is–”

“Alive and well, Agent.” He softly cuts you off, licking his lips as he awaits your onslaught of curiosity.

Alive and well and the bloody Death Herald. The hottest topic of debate amongst all ranks of Aurors in your former department. Elusive, unforgiving—and apparently, actually a real person.

You nearly huff out a disbelieving laugh, slowly shutting the folder in your hands as you persevere in your denial, “How is that possible?”

“Agent Black was immediately enrolled into the Ministry’s witness protection program for high-profile individuals after his… death as per the request of Albus Dumbledore. He has been handling a number of top Auror missions since.” Gawdry explains, hands clasping together as his words slice through the air with a suffocating revelation.

“Disposal missions.” Killing people. Though, you eschewed the unambiguous words, not eager to ruffle your boss’ feathers so early into your career.

Gawdry cracks a wry smile at your comment— as if reading your mind, and hums in confirmation. “Ten years of it. An adept adversary, I pity anyone who finds themself at the end of his wand. He’s the Ministry’s greatest weapon. Such information is highly classified, only high ranking officials and leaders are aware of this fact, so it would be unwise for you to break your code of silence on this, Agent.”

“Sure, right, no problem. And these redacted parts?” You cough out, a migraine beginning to bloom across your temples.

The man clicks his tongue and leans back in his chair, “Above your pay grade, Agent.”

“Right.” Your dejectedness weighs on your shoulders as you will your eyes to stay locked on him.

He raises a finger and clears his throat, “With the exception of the last one.”

Before you can press further, a familiar jingle of clicking locks reverberates across the room. Turning around, you narrow your eyes as a tall figure begins to strut into the room without a word. You swallow harshly as you survey the approaching individual, taking note of their dark hooded cloak and fitted apparel. A field agent. Clothes for mobility. Agile, controlled movements. Tense, cautious posture. It was all a dead giveaway—it was like looking at a reflection of yourself, really.

As the person grows closer to you, you blink rapidly as you realize they’re wearing a mask that enshrouds their entire face. The white face covering is streaked with grey lines, enhancing the expressionless slant of its lips. A warm prickle on the back of your neck draws your attention away from the ivory ridges and toward the blazing green eyes that were now locked on your gobsmacked face.

“Great timing, Agent Black.” Gawdry rises from his seat and nods toward the newcomer, ignoring your ticked jaw as you silently look back to him for an explanation.

Your shoulders stiffen as Agent Black halts beside you, an aura of indifference radiating from him. You’re suddenly conscious of the way his body heat emanates toward you, how he vaguely nods at Gawdry’s words, and how he seems to be assessing you from the corner of his eye as well.

The infamous Death Herald was beside you, and he also happened to be Regulus bloody Black. The very same Regulus who you silently mourned all those years ago, the Regulus Black who you admired from afar during your school days—

“As I was saying before, there is a new assignment. One that you will both complete together.” Gawdry’s eyes are dim, a few stress lines clinging to his forehead as he shuffles out a thick packet.

Regulus crosses his arms and clears his throat, “It requires two of us? I am capable of doing it alone.”

—the same Regulus that you wanted to hex at that very moment.

Your eyebrows fly into your hairline as you muffle a scoff, slightly tilting your head toward him as you bite out an acerbic retort. “Apparently not, seeing as we’re both standing here.”

Regulus merely glances at you before peering at Gawdry for an answer, intent on dismissing your irritation. Your boss appraises you with clear amusement before his stern mask falls back into place as he swiftly slides the packet toward you both, “We are aware of your competence, Agent Black. However, your partner here is trained specifically for retrieval and infiltration assignments.” Gawdry pauses and glances at you, “As well as issues involving our time space.”

If you weren’t still reeling from your previous bristling thoughts, you would have preened a bit at your boss’ words, flattered that he seemed to be backing you. Though, this only encouraged the tiny pride-gremlin in your chest— because take that Black! You’re completely out of your depth at the Department of Mysteries.

You step forward first and pull the hefty envelope toward you, wasting no time in undoing the string tie. “No use dawdling.” You mutter, feeling two pairs of eyes burning into your head.

As you reach inside the packet and grasp at the stack of papers, your eyebrows furrow once you realize there are three separate folders inside. Bringing the first folder under the light, you nearly roll your eyes as you practically feel Regulus craning to read it, stubbornly refusing to move closer to you.

You wordlessly maneuver the contents in between you both, opting to return your attention to Gawdry as Regulus softly tugs out one of the folders from your hand. “A time travel assignment, boss?”

Gawdry nods and cracks his knuckles, “An assignment our Department has been piecing together for years. A few spins of a time turner, in-and-out with the relics. Our recon crew finally cracked down on most of the significant information, so we’ve assigned the best of the best to complete it.”

“Are you buttering us up because we’re marching toward imminent doom?” You ask, tone inflated with amusement.

Regulus remains silent, but lifts his head up imperceptibly to look at Gawdry. The older man glances between you both before humming, “It is an urgent assignment and undoubtedly, a risky one.”

“Well, interfering with time is never a simple matter.” You answer plainly, hands moving to hug the remaining two folders to your chest.

“When do we start?” Regulus’ steely voice takes you by surprise, the rough tone still foreign to your ears.

Gawdry leans back and fixes him with an unwavering stare, “Preferably now. It is a time sensitive case, so I expect you both to work together seamlessly.”

Forbearance embraces you tightly as you nod, already mentally outlining how to work around Regulus’ one-note, detached attitude on the field. Despite that, you had to give him credit, a decade of solitude and bloodshed was bound to foster such apathy, and you weren’t sure you could survive what he did.

Regulus spins on his heel without a word, beginning to make his way toward the towering doors as you remain rooted to your spot. Gawdry’s eyes remain on Regulus’ retreating figure as he acknowledges you, “Yes, Agent?”

“Is this going to be a fixed partnership?” Your fingers twitch in anticipation as you hear the doors click shut behind you.

“That remains to be seen. There is a lot on the line so I’ll be direct, Agent,” Gawdry pauses before finally looking at you, “this was supposed to be a solo assignment, but at the insistence of Head Auror Chao, I accepted her request to let Agent Black tag along.”

“You mean that this was originally my assignment?” You gape in surprise, barely processing that your former boss was single handedly responsible for Regulus’ presence.

“Yes. It is quite beneficial for me, don’t misconstrue. Such a case rightfully belongs to the Department of Mysteries, but without a qualified Unspeakable to carry out the brief…” Gawdry explains, nodding as your eyes light up in realization.

“Then it would have been given to the Auror Department.” You finish with a hum, shuffling your weight to one foot, “So my unceremonious decision to transfer to the Department of Mysteries gave you a window of opportunity.”

Gawdry nods again, and a sharp grin tugs at his mouth, “Precisely. You can imagine how unhappy Auror Chao was at the loss of such an adept field agent and an extraordinary case all in one go.”

“That checks out. So, Agent Black is collateral.” You conclude, all semblance of firm professionalism flying out of the window.

Gawdry does not deign you with an answer, but he shoots a pointed look at the doors with a good natured eyebrow raise, prompting you to swiftly depart from the cold room with a pleased grin. As you pace out of the office, you’re left to toy with your thoughts, still conflicted on how you would have to adapt to Regulus’ methods amidst such a precarious mission.

Stepping away from the threshold of Gawdry’s office, you squint as your eyes adjust to the lifeless tiles of the hallway. Before you’re able to wander further, you’re stopped in your tracks at the sight of Regulus’ motionless figure ways off from you, his stormy eyes greeting you with glimmering impassivity.

“Ah. You waited.” You sputter out quietly, striding towards him as he pivots and begins to walk away.

Your eyes linger on the taut muscles of his shoulders, vaguely visible under the cloth of cloak as he continues walking. Awkward tension settles in the air as you take the lead toward the Atrium of Artifacts, not knowing how to breach conversation as you make way to retrieve a time turner.

Clearing your throat lightly, you bite your cheek as you finally break the silence. “Oh, we went to school together. I don’t know if you remember, I was a year under you.”

“I remember.” The answer is immediate and nearly robotic, a clear sign that he was either uncaring for pleasantries or inclined to work in silence.

“Ah. Well, I’m glad that you’re okay.” I even lit a bloody candle for you.

Regulus hums out lightly before swiftly segwaying back into work, “I read the brief. We’re retrieving lost files.”

“Files?” You intone faintly, sifting through your memories for any information on file relics.

As you round the corner towards the distribution center for time turners, Regulus throws you a small glance and continues, “1958. Clyde Rosier’s Estate.”

“1958… Rosier? Evan’s father?” You mumble, remembering the blonde boy that often paraded around the halls with the other older Slytherins, most meeting the same untimely fate as him.

Regulus is decisively mute about your revelation, possibly reminiscing on similar memories of the boy. You were quite positive that they were familiar with each other some eons ago, having been in Voldemort’s inner circle for a brief time together.

Before you have time to stew further on your thoughts, you’re both crossing into the large hall of artifacts. The atrium stretches skyhigh, evaporating into a blanket of darkness that accompanies the biting chill permeating across the room. Suppressing a shiver, you survey the dark perimeter, appreciating the bulbs of floating lights at the heart of the room, the cluster of orbs pulsing with enough glow to dimly light up the surroundings.

“Merlin, is the whole department cloaked in darkness? I don’t think I’ll ever get used to not being able to see 20 feet ahead of me.” You mumble, eyes darting toward an approaching figure wading through the shadows of the room.

Regulus lets out a small huff, and you’re almost certain that it was one of amusement and not exasperation, but the cloaked Unspeakable approaching you leaves little time to ruminate on it.

“Yes?” The raspy voice coils through the air.

Fishing out your new badge, you quickly flash it to the Unspeakable with a dry smile, “We need a time turner, and perhaps a bag with an extension charm.” It is silent for a few moments before you clear your throat, “Please.”

The cloaked figure gives a small nod before slinking away, leaving you and Regulus to observe the lusterless environment.

“Have you ever worked with a partner on your assignments?” You ask, nerves buzzing like static as you drum your fingers against the folders in your hands.

Regulus’ head tilts toward you, “No.” The hushed answer seems definitive, and just as you’re about to clamber back into your shell, his voice rings out again, “You?”

“Ah, me neither.” You admit a bit sheepishly, yet still satisfied that he didn’t completely dismiss you.

The air seems a bit warmer than before, driving you to face forward and continue waiting for the Unspeakable to reappear.

As if summoned, a faint rustle emits near you before you see the cloaked figure trudge toward you, arms full of parchment and a woven bag. Furrowing your eyebrows, you step forward and reach over to assist them, slowly unfurling the parchment and raising it up to the light.

Regulus steps forward to read it with you, clearly uncertain of the rules in your Department.

‘TERMS OF USE: Time Turner.

As per regulations and codes of The Department of Mysteries, this contract constitutes a legally binding agreement. Rights and access to a Time Turner may only be permitted through signature, if you disagree with any of the terms listed in this contract, you are not permitted to use a Time Turner. By signing this document, you and any party involved hereby agree to the terms and conditions listed below.

Rights to a Time Turner do not extend to distribution, abuse, or irresponsible handling of the object. Destruction or loss of property may be punishable by law or reasonable fine. The Department of Mysteries is not liable for subsequent injury or death as a result of Time Turner use.’

“Sign it.” Regulus’ flat words tear through your concentration, and you can feel his figure looming behind you, a flicker of impatience evidently buzzing through his veins.

Clicking your tongue, you accept the quill that the Unspeakable passes to you, shaking your head all the while. “Don’t tell me you sign every document you get without reading it.”

You quickly scribble your signature on the paper, admiring the neat streaks as you await Regulus’ response to your quip. When he remains silent, you quickly snap your head around and fix him with a disbelieving frown. “Merlin. Okay, I’m in charge of all the legal stuff from this day onward.”

After you get sorted with the contracts and take the mandatory oath for the loan, you’re both sent off with a new bag and a polished time turner. Holding the chain up in the air, you fawn over the powerful object in your hands, quelling the adrenaline that was jittering around your nerves.

“Okay. Date, please.” You hum, shooting Regulus a confident smile.

His eyes flicker from you to the folder in his hand as he monotonously recites the information to you, “June 18th, 1958.”

Handing part of the chain to him, you quickly throw it over your neck and steady your finger against the small knob of the charm. “Like Gawdry said, in and out. Simple.” Twisting the ringlets of the device, you watch in fascination as it begins to steadily spin on its own accord, a heavy pressure of magic blanketing you both in the process.

And before you can blink again, you and Regulus are being thrown through the reel of time.

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