AOU Pietro Maxmimoff (Quicksilver) X Reader

Chapter One - The Fiery Beginning

Why was maths so hard? Because you hated it. That's why. Your parental figures always pushed you to try harder in a subject that was already too hard. Fuck you, mom. You grumbled, attempting to use trigonometry and failing miserably. And Trig was supposed to be the easiest unit of the subject. Fuck this. Your head slammed into the desk quietly. Sitting next to you, your friend faired a lot better. They'd offered up their notes and now you were too busy thinking about how you'd explain failing the subject to your parents.

"You know, you'd be better at math if you actually tried." They said to you.

"I don't need this." You mumbled into the table. "What I need is to learn how to pay bills before my parents kick me out." Your friend laughed. You looked at the clock, groaning. It was two hours off the end of the semester and you were sick of waiting.

As the bell rang- you were the first out. Your uniform was crinkled, but you didn't care. Two more hours and you wouldn't have to wear it ever again. You were a senior in highschool, You had plans for after school- but they could wait. You just wanted to sit and eat your lunch, groaning to your horde of stupid- in a good way- friends.

One of them, Nathan sat beside you, eating away at the paper bag of fries. He offered some to you and you hastily accepted. Fries man- fucking delicious. As you munched away, the sleeves on your school shirt rolled down, revealing two studded cuffs.

You wore them everyday. Only few of your friends knew what they were really for. Just your luck, one of the school's recurring idiots walked past, calling out to you. You sneakily flexed your wrist, and the shadow underneath his shoe flicked up slightly, and he tripped, dropping the soccer ball in his arms. Your friends burst out laughing, and you grinned. Nyctomancy was hilarious.

Nyctomancy means dark magic, Nycto being the latin word for Dark. Using it, you had power over shadows and the dark. Nyctomancy often fell in with Necromancy, or death magic, which in turn, made your magic stronger around death. You'd been to a funeral once, but that was years ago. You hid the power of your magic in the cuffs safely, so no one- not even your parents knew what you could do. You doubted even they could do it.

Soon enough, the bell for period five started ringing and you- scarily fast, got your art books out of your locker. Even though exams were over and you'd technically had to still go to classes. Even though you didn't need maths for your college course, your parents forced your to do it.

As you sat down, the teacher pulled a box out of their desk. They looked alarmed, scared even. You could see a line of red running underneath their hair. It looked wet and you realised it was blood. You knew this because the teacher's hair was sticky with it. Someone had punctured their eardrums. They started pressing buttons on the box and your eyes widened. It was a bomb.

It started beeping fast, and other students asked the teacher what it was. The teacher couldn't hear them though. They mouthed an 'I'm sorry' and you hastily pushed the table onto it's side, like a shield and yelling at other classmates to do so. No one else got to it in time as the bomb went off.

Bright fire burst over the edge of the table, and the screams of students were loud. Almost as loud as the ringing in your ears. You were disoriented. The room was shaking. As you slowly regained your bearings, you looked around the room. The walls were scorched, people's belongings were burnt, and people burnt beyond recognition. A loud sob escaped your lips. You could see Nathan, the boy who'd given you the fries's feet, burnt horribly. Another sob came, louder this time. The room shook as another explosion in the next room went off. You winced.

Standing up slowly and painfully, you avoided the bodies of classmates and other burning things and left the room. People were everywhere in the hallway, running as more explosions sounded. You slowly joined them, walking. People screamed and cried, but you held your sobs in, trying to be strong. The cuffs on your wrists grew cold.