#{{ just red and beefy again and fucking shit up just to “prove” to herself that she can cheat aging and death.

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 6

Winds Change

Read on Ao3

-

Five days.

They had five days left together.

Billy tried not to think about it, but it was kinda hard to ignore.

Stalls were already being taken down, fair games being packed up into large shipping trucks to take across the country.

One of Max’s beloved funnel cake stalls had already met the way of the shipping container. She was pissed.

And yet, Billy and Steve did their best to pretend like the rodeo wasn’t coming down around them.

A perfect symbolism for their fling, or whatever, crashing down everywhere they look.

Billy spent days in Steve’s sweaty little airstream, brushing his fingers over that muscular body, calling him a hick and a horse girl and every other fake insult he could think of.

And Steve spent all that time lacing his fingers with Billy’s, winking at him from his place on top of one of his three gorgeous mares as he did victory lap after victory lap, roping calves in under ten seconds, slamming Billy against the walls of the airstream, adrenaline from the stunt still pumping through him.

The field saw them exercising Steve’s horses, taking a ratty blanket out there in the middle of the night to watch the stars.

And it was stupid, Billy pretending that this was more than just. A convenience.

Steve was on his knees, and Billy threaded his hands into that thick hair, tugging it this way and that, the way he’s learned Steve likes after some weeks of mewling whines.

Billy was backed up against the gate of the makeshift paddock, shielded by the prying eyes of the other rodeo workers by the long-set sun and the sounds of the day’s crowds filtering out of the grounds.

Steve pushed down, taking Billy’s cock all the way in his throat, breathing heavily through his nose, the nose currently pressed flat against Billy’s pelvis.

Steve was a champion at a few things: calf roping, horse riding, and dick sucking.

He pulled off Billy’s dick with a slurp, rolling his tongue along the head, humming slightly as he did. His eyes were dark, staring up at Billy, something like a smirk sparking in them as Billy fell apart.

He took a breath, ready to move back in and finish Billy off when there were footsteps.

“Steve! I gotta check Loretta’s hock.”

They both froze, Steve’s eyes going wide with shock, his lips still stretched around the cock in his mouth.

Billy had yet to meet Jim Hopper, the horse specialist that watched out for Steve’s three mares.

He guesses he was about to meet the man right about now.

Steve yanked his face off Billy’s cock with an unmistakable slurping sound that made Billy’s face go bright fuckin’ red. Billy fumbled with the fly on his shorts, and Steve took charge, roughly pulling the button closed and the zip up. It was a miracle he didn’t catch any skin with the quick action.

Steve was on his feet as Jim rounded the edge of the fencing, eyeing the two of them standing far too close, Billy’s face red and full of guilt. Jim raised a hand, his eyes closing as he breathed heavily out his nose.

“I don’t wanna know. Just let me take a look at your girl.”

Steve shrugged, acting like this whole ordeal was just another day at the rodeo.

Maybe it is, Billy’s brain supplied.

They were so fucking. Obvious. Billy could just drop dead right there on the grass.

Jim was a big dude. Beefy and broad, his face was clearly weather-beaten. Well, what of his face wasn’t covered with a graying beard and mustache. His left cheek pudged out slightly with what Billy realized was chewing tobacco when he spit casually at his feet.

“This is Billy. I told you about him,” Steve said with a smirk.

And Billy just about had a heart attack when Steve made a big show of wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, smirkin’ like the devil.

“Yeah, kid, I’m just here for Letty.”

The horses had been allocated to the horsebox for the night, as it was much warmer in there for them. Not that it was cold in San Diego at night, but still. Steve worried. Billy thought it was cute.

Steve led Jim off towards the box, clapping him once on the shoulder as he passed, making Jim groan and spit a dollop of yellow-brown saliva after Steve.

Billy felt like he was about to turn into some thick hot liquid shame when Jim gave him a bit of a once-over, raising one thick eyebrow at him. Jim’s mustache twitched, and he spit to the side before turning on his heel, following Steve to the horses.

Billy has never been more mortified in his life.

Steve’s mentioned Jim a lot. He always calls him Hop. Said Steve himself gave him that nickname. Billy has kinda sussed out that Jim is something like a pseudo-dad to Steve. The one to teach him how to really care for the horses. The one to teach him to properly tie a calf.

All the shit that Steve was made of, Jim taught him.

Billy had put together that Jim’s daughter was the one Max was scampering about the grounds with. Steve said he had adopted Elle when she was about seven.

His face gave something away when he said that. Making a look that said there was a story there, but Billy didn’t wanna ask.

It’s not his story to know.

Billy followed after them, keeping a wide enough berth from the pair that it was weird. He knew it was weird. But it was either this type of weird, or the weird of inserting himself into their conversation when Jim obviously knew what they had been doing seconds before he found them. Steve was about as subtle as a gun with those grass stains on his knees, wiping at his face like he needed to prove a point.

Billy lingered outside the horsebox.

Loretta had been lagging lately, and she startled whenever Steve laid a hand on her left leg.

Steve had just about sobbed when he told Billy he thinks she’s hurt herself.

Billy wished he had a cigarette right about now.

“Yeah, I think the poor girl’s just havin’ some inflammation. Probably tweaked her leg just right on the arena dirt.”

“Is she gonna be okay? What does she need?” Steve sounded more serious than Billy’s ever heard him. There was a weight to his voice that only reared up when Steve mentioned his father, a slight quiver in his words that made his anxiety palpable.

“She’s a tough one, Letty. Let her rest for about two weeks, only mild walking, and some ice at the end of the day wouldn’t hurt, either. We’ll talk after that and see if she needs anything more.”

There was something of a pause in the horsebox, and Billy held his breath, ignoring the fact that he was clearly eavesdropping now.

“You being careful with that boy?”

“‘Course I am.”

“Because I meant what I said last time. I’m not posing as your dad to get you an appointment at the clinic again-”

“ Jesus, Hop. I thought we agreed never to talk about that again, huh? And besides, I’m grown. I can make appointments for my own STD tests now. Plus, it was all fine.”

Billy nearly choked.

It’s not that he’s never had a scare before, and he and Steve were safe, but still.

“Good to hear, then. But you being careful ?” There was another silence from the box. One of the horses whinnied.

When Jim continued, it was with a much softer voice than before.

“I ain’t never seen you so attached before.”

The horse whinnied again, and Billy pictured Steve wrapping his arms around June’s neck and hugging her close.

“He’s under my skin now.” A scuff that sounded like Steve’s boot brushing against the hay-covered floor of the box. “First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.”

Those words crashed into Billy’s gut, knocking all the wind out of him.

He suffocated on them, drowned in Steve’s melancholy voice as he said them.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

It stung at the same time it made Billy’s heart soar.

It hurt and it healed and it made Billy wanna throw up and lock Steve in his basement so he could never leave him.

Or maybe something less totally wacked-out and creepy.

“You know I love you like my own, but you gotta manage yourself. I ain’t judgin’, I just don’t wanna see you all hurt again.”

“Jeez, that was some real sappy shit there.” The mood shifted with Steve’s deflection, and Billy could hear footsteps leaving the horsebox.

He scrambled over to Steve’s little airstream, pretending he hadn’t been listening and freaking out over what he was hearing.

There was just. There was a whole lot to take in there.

Jim said he didn’t want to see Steve all hurt again, but also said he’s never seen Steve so attached before.

When had he been all hurt before if this was, in Steve’s words, the first time he wasn’t ready for a fling to be over?

And Billy didn’t want to hurt Steve, but it kinda, in a real shitty way, made him feel a little bit better that he wasn’t the only one ignoring the oncoming end out of sadness and a need to prolong whatever they had left.

That, and the added little bonus that Jim had once pretended to be Steve’s father to get him an STD test from a clinic.

Billy feels like he’s been punched in the face over and over again by that short conversation he heard. And he would know. He’s been decked in the kisser too many times to think about.

He leaned against the cold metal wall of the airstream as Steve came into view, Jim heading in the opposite direction towards the fairgrounds and the rodeo being shut down for the night.

Steve smiled at Billy, this soft, calm little thing that made the warm summer air even sweeter in Billy’s lungs and the words keep ringing through his head.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

He could see something in Steve, now that he knew what to look for.

How carefree and easy he seemed anytime he was around Billy, but those devastating moments when he seemed to bite his tongue against saying something more meaningful, or shied away from a briefly intimate touch.

Billy could finally see his own anxiety in Steve at their dwindling time together, and it broke his fucking heart.

Robin had warned Billy not to get attached. She told him Steve slept around and played the field and left before anyone could get in too deep.

But he wonders if Robin had warned Steve against the same thing. If she had told him that Billy was going to fuck and run. That leaving someone behind can sometimes hurt just as much as being left behind.

He hopes that if she hasn’t, she’ll be there for Steve. That she’ll pick him up and won’t let him break his own precious heart anymore.

“So, how’s Loretta?”

“She’ll be okay. Poor lady just needs some rest and some ice, and she’ll be feeling her best in a few weeks.”

Steve matched Billy’s stance, leaning against the trailer and tilting his face to the starry sky.

It was quiet out in the sea of trailers. Now that the spectators had all gone home for the night, the cheering crowds and amplified commentators weren’t reverberating through the open grass.

Instead, they could hear the rodeo animals that had been put in their nighttime areas. The many whineys and brays from different horses spread through the place.

The rodeo seemed so fucking magic to Billy.

Something like Heaven.

“I’m going soon.”

Billy doesn’t know why Steve said it.

They both knew that fact.

He thought they were both aggressively ignoring that fact.

“Yeah. You are.”

Billy didn’t know what to do with his hands.

He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever.

Because talking about it makes it real.

And God fucking forbid Steve breaks it off now and not in the allotted five days they still have to laugh and fuck and be free .

He pulled out his slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one deftly.

Steve didn’t smoke. Said his grandpa died really horribly of lung cancer.

Billy knew this was going to be a serious talk when Steve didn’t make one of his usual snide remarks about Billy smoking.

“I just wanted. To be sure,” Steve trailed off, still looking at the spangled night sky. “We need to be on the same page.”

That we’re probably, most definitely, in love with one another but too stupid and too poorly timed and too tragic to say anything about it.

“I think we are.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. Because, I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, and, like, our arrangement’s been the same since the beginning.”

Arrangement.

That word.

Arrangement.

It was a fucking ugly word for whatever beautiful thing they had between them.

Arrangement.

It made Billy feel cheap, and used, and so fucking stupid.

And feeling like that only meant one thing for Billy.

He got fucking mad.

“So, that’s it then. You’re done with me. Onto the next poor sucker in the next shitty town that’ll fuck you through the mattress and hold your hand until you decide you’re sick of ‘em. Great. It was so nice being your fucking whore. Thanks for the. Opportunity.”

He wished he chewed tobacco like Jim. He would spit a glob at Steve’s foot. Probably make it land right on those stupid fucking red cowboy boots.

Steve finally looked at Billy, his face scrunched up and those beautiful eyes of his looking somewhere between lost and hurt and angry and confused.

“Billy, that’s not what I-”

“No. No, Harrington, I fucking get it. You go town to town, and feed these fuckers a sob story about how hard it is for you to connect with people, and that you’re lonely and your dad sucks, and all this other bullshit. When really, you’re just an insecure asshole with intimacy problems who’s too fucking stupid to get a fucking GED.”

Fuck.

The second the words were out of his mouth, Billy knew he had gone way too fucking far.

Steve’s eyes flashed, and his face seemed to morph right in front of Billy’s eyes. He was closing himself off right where they stood. Getting ready to chuck Billy away and never see him again.

And Billy fucking deserved it.

“You’re calling me an insecure asshole with intimacy problems? The only friends you’ve got are coworkers that only pity you because they can see how fucking pathetic you are. You beg for scraps like a fucking dog and the second things get tough you ignore it, or get angry at it, like a stupid goddamn child . You think you’re so tough. That you’re the only one with problems . You’ve got your head so far up your own ass that you don’t realize that shit sucks all over, and that everyone is just as miserable as you are, we’re just able to fucking make something out of ourselves instead of wallowing in self-pity.”

Steve’s little speech left Billy feeling dumbfounded.

He was seething with a rage he had never felt in his life before. Anger at himself, and anger at Steve for being so fucking right. For letting all of Billy’s flaws and insecurities tumble out of his mouth like they were nothing.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, leaning forward to put it out against the door of the airstream, leaving a tiny circular ash print on the painted cow. It looked like a bullet wound on the poor thing.

It’s how Billy felt.

“I hope your horse fucking dies.”

It was childish.

It was so dumb, and childish, and Billy really doesn’t hope any horse anywhere dies, especially Steve’s three wonderful mares, but he’s feeling something he thinks he could call jilted, and he’s hurt and upset and genuinely at a loss.

He didn’t let Steve get another word in. Just turned on his heel, and left the little cowboy behind.

[itsallmightbitch]

Stitches (Part Two)

Ya’ll, I wasn’t planning on posting this yet but when I actually checked, I realised that if I didn’t- Part Two was going to be over 12,000 words. So I had to split it again. So, you can look forward to a Part Three! I also, sort of, accidentally maybe, wrote a teeny tiny lil’ bit of plot. 

Tagged: @kittygonyan​ @mrsreina​ (If you’d like to be tagged in Part Three, give me a shout!)

Pairing: Villain!AllMight x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Blood, Swearing, Threats of Non-Con (Not made by our boy All Might and not said explicitly though).

Word Count: 6800+

Summary: A phone call makes you question just how the biggest bad in Japan feels about you. You discover just how All Might was injured and things get just a lil’ bit steamy.

---------------------

He was gone for over half an hour and you’d spent that time preparing the dressings you’d need for him. The wound was in a semi awkward place- just below the dip of his collarbone, so you’d had to dig out the gauze tape.

All the while, you attempted to calm the rapid, dizzying beat of your heart.

 Those damn breathing exercises that Ivy had taught you were doing jack shit, especially with the feeling of his hands still imprinted firmly on your hips.

 Were you really going to do this tonight?

 It wasn’t as though you hadn’t danced around him for months now, the unyielding pull of his orbit spinning you closer and closer until the inevitable collision. But as you stood on the precipice, feet towing the line and looking into the abyss… there was still some trepidation.

 Was he just doing this to prove that he could get into your pants?

 Where the hell would it even go? He was, at his core, a villain and nothing you could do or say would ever change his nature.

 Not that you would want to. You weren’t here to ‘fix’ him in any other way but physically.

 Yet, despite all of the reservations that swam in your head, you couldn’t deny the chemistry that had always bubbled between you. Especially in those moments that you forgot just who he was and he was just idling around your apartment with you. Those moments made you just as hot as when you saw him pummelling some wannabe hero on TV.

 Making him coffee while he fixed your kitchen sink. Actually… finding out that he could fix a kitchen sink had been jarring enough. Bickering over which movie to watch, when you knew he was going to win like he always did- but arguing with him for the fun of it anyway.

 That day you’d found out that he did a fucking wicked impression of Endeavor and you’d howled with laughter- then caught him looking immensely proud of himself afterwards.

 Even now, the memory of it made your lips quirk in a stupid smile.

 Seeing that side of him made it so easy to separate him from the man the rest of the world saw. They weren’t privy to all the things that made him unique. Would it really be so wrong of you to give in?

 The filthy promise he’d made still rang in your ears.

 Slow, hard and all night long. Your thighs clenched in anticipation.

 Your phone buzzed cheerily on the side table and the coffee you’d made for yourself in his absence sloshed against the side of the mug when you jumped.

 An unknown number usually meant one of two things. Either All Might was calling you to ask how to perform some horrible mutilation on a person without them losing too much blood- or Ivy was calling for a chat.

 Since the former was currently using up all of your hot water- seriously, thirty five minutes now- you correctly guessed that it was the latter. You answered, immediately perking up at the sound of her voice.

 “Babes, is that beefy idiot of yours there? His little henchmen have been tearing apart half of the city trying to find him,” she said, not even bothering with hello. You tutted. Of course he’d just up and vanished without giving anyone a hint that he was okay.

 “Hi Ivy,” you said pointedly and you could almost hear her roll her eyes at your insistence of politeness. “Yeah, he’s here.”

 She grumbled.

 “Ugh, will you please tell him to call off his goons before I have to kill any more of them for disrespecting me,” she said, like murdering henchmen was all too taxing for her. You knew differently. She was probably enjoying the change of pace. You half smiled, shaking your head.

 What exactly was your life? Passing messages between villains like some kind of sentient answering machine.

 “Hold on. He’s in the shower,” you said, escaping the soft light of the living room and heading in the direction of the still -goddamn it- running water. His clothes were piled where you’d told him to leave them and you were oddly touched to find that he’d arranged them in a way that the bloodied parts weren’t on your carpet.

 He could be considerate when he wanted to be.

 Biting your lip, you eventually worked up the courage and knocked on the door. You knew that he was grinning from ear to ear, probably expecting you to barge in and simply toss your panties over your shoulder while you were at it.

 Hmm. There was plenty of time for that later.

 “Did you miss me already, sweet thing? Am I that irresistible?” he said, his tone all deep and buttery and the image of him stark naked and soaking wet stole your voice for a moment. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was taking so long because he was- taking care of himself.

 Your stomach whirled pleasantly at the thought of him stroking a hand along his thick-

 “Hey! Don’t forget to tell him that they have like, zero manners. I’m appalled at how rude they all are. This is no way to treat a lady!”

 Ivy’s irritated voice turned away from the phone for a moment. A crunch and a half-halted scream told you that she was more than handling herself against All Might’s minions.

 You licked your bottom lip, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to picture him behind the damn door again. Otherwise you’d never get out the words you needed to say. You’d get your chance to join him later, when your dumb obligation as his doctor wasn’t coming first.

 “Um, Ivy says your little minions are out of control again. You might want to deal with that, big guy,” you informed him and you heard him swear loudly, a colourful mix of words that would have made a sailor blush.

 The water, at long last, shut off.

 You hadn’t really considered what would come next, despite the fact that he’d clearly left his pants- and by extension- phone right next to where you were standing.

 The door opened and you suddenly had a face full of muscular, soaking wet chest. You barely even noticed his smug expression, too busy trailing your eyes down and focusing with laser like precision on the trail of blond hair that started at his bellybutton and vanished underneath his towel.

 All Might had a fucking happy trail. How had you not noticed it earlier?

 Oh yeah. All the blood.

 You had died. You were dead and buried and this was Heaven and of course your version of Heaven would have a soaking wet, naked super villain in it.  

 Every brain function ceased and all you could register was the heat of the steam billowing out from behind him and the aching urge you now felt to catch the lone water droplet that was rolling down along his abdomen with your tongue.

 It dipped into his bellybutton then out again, before soaking into the towel that he’d slung low around his hips.

 “You know, as much as I’m enjoying your reaction sweetheart,” he rumbled, openly amused by your gaping, idiotic staring. “I do need my phone before I lose any more men to the sewer rat.”

 “I fucking heard that, you jackass!” Ivy screeched and you were brought back to reality, aware that your face was now glowing red.

 He leaned down past you and fished his phone from his pants pocket and you could feel the sweet, water warmed heat of his skin as he passed so close to you. You resisted the urge you suddenly felt to throw your legs over your head.

You didn’t even know if your legs could do that and Ivy might not appreciate having to wait any longer for a reprieve.

 When he straightened up, he grinned at you and it was… different than his usual cocky smiles. This one was toothy and almost soft and his free hand came up to your chin, gripping it much like he had earlier. Except this time, it wasn’t to threaten you.

 It was to bring your lips to his in a nipping, hard kiss that took the air out of your lungs.

 Hnnng.

 “Soon kitten,” he murmured, biting your bottom lip once more playfully. “Don’t forget, this was your bright idea.”

 He winked at you before retreating back into the bathroom. You remained standing on the other side of the door for a long moment, cursing yourself for being so worried about him when you could be splayed out underneath him right now- morals be damned.

 You only remembered that Ivy was still on the line when you heard her voice asking if everything was okay.

 Fuck, it was more than okay. Not long from now, you were going to have that between your legs. More than ever you wished you hadn’t skipped all those yoga classes because this was going to be... challenging. 

Said legs carried you shakily back down the hall and away from the temptation to break the door down while you waved your bra over your head. 

Sexy.

 “He’s um- he’s calling someone now,” you cleared your throat, choosing not to sit on your bloodied couch and instead canting your hip against your dining table. “Sorry Ives. If I’d have known he was AWOL I’d have made him call sooner. I know what those idiots are like…”

 His henchmen were notorious for running riot without him there to rein them in. He was, surprisingly, like seventy three percent of their impulse control. It was a shame he lacked any himself.

 “You know, I’m not even surprised any more,” she tutted. “He could have at least let one of his lackey’s know before he went and squared up against- wait-” Her voice paused just as she reached the bloody good bit and you fought the urge to interrupt. “Maybe he’s been too busy to phone anyone… Wanna tell me what you’ve been up to?”

 Ivy knew what had gone down tonight by the sound of it. But she was also distracted and you knew you would get nowhere without indulging her curiosity first.

 “Oh yeah, he’s been super busy getting a big ass gash on his shoulder stitched up. Not much time for phone calls,” you hedged slyly. Ivy didn’t need to know he’d also been busy with his mouth on your neck while you attempted not to moan like a a porn star. Definitely a detail that could be left out.

 “Not going to lie sweets, I was convinced you were going to say getting a blowjob.”

 “Fucking hell, Ivy.”

 “What!? There’s nothing wrong with getting busy after a life threatening situation. I’m amazed that you both have so much restraint,” she said and despite your irritation over these villains all up in your personal life, you couldn’t find it in yourself to disagree with her out loud. “You said he was all sliced up? Did he tell you how he got it?”

 Interest?

 Piqued.

 “No! He’s being really secretive about it,” you said hurriedly as though Ivy would hang up on you at any second. She wouldn’t but you were far too eager to hear this story and your brain refused to function normally. “Do you know?”

 “I’m not technically supposed to, but well… henchmen talk darling, especially under the threat of pain…”

 “Ivy spill,” you said, dragging the word out into a whine. Ivy loved to tell a tale but you were impatient now. You wanted to hear what had happened before he came out of the shower. Not just because you didn’t want him to catch you snooping in his business but also because there was the promise of fantastic sex to come too.

 “Oh sweets, do I have a story for you,” Ivy squealed gleefully. Your heart beat hard in your chest in anticipation and you hoped that she wouldn’t drag it out too much. “I hope you’re sitting down for this because it’s just, mwah-” she made a kissing noise and you snorted.

 “Ivy, come on. While I’m still young.”

 “Tut tut, there’s no rushing a good thing. Or do you like it fast?” she teased, flirtatiously.

 You rolled your eyes and tutted into the phone, not in the mood to be teased. At least… not by Ivy.

 You checked over your shoulder- in case All Might had snuck up on you or was lurking in the doorway. He had a habit of doing that, just to make you jump. But he was nowhere to be seen, probably still on the phone, berating one of his second in command for their bad behaviour.

 You hoped it was Shigaraki getting a talking to. That guy gave you nothing but bad vibes.

 “So, I take it you remember last week, when you and I dished about that weirdo you treated? You know Hinata Cash?” she said his name almost cautiously as if worried that being too quick would bring back the memories before you would be able to handle them.

 You made a strangled noise that could have been agreement as your brief but memorable encounter with Hinata Cash came rushing back from the deep, dark part of your memories that you’d shoved it into.

 A chill raced along your spine.

 “Are you okay, sweets?” Ivy asked cautiously.

 “M’fine,” you said, clearing your throat. You wouldn’t let the mere mention of the creep make you uncomfortable. Ivy still paused until you reaffirmed that you were okay with talking about him though. “What about him? Is he still being a disturbing son of a bitch?”

 Your bravado was all show. You both knew it, but Ivy continued like she bought into your act.

 “Well, it turns out he was quite the talking point in some circles... Not enough to play with the big boys like your honey bun,” she said, probably giving the phone a shit eating grin. You didn’t even berate her for it and the teasing tone she’d aimed for fell away awkwardly. “But he was doing enough to get himself noticed. He’d started coming in to the Golden Cat on weekends. A few of the girls there told me about him…”

 “All good things, I bet,” you said, rubbing your arm nervously. There was really no reason to feel nervous, not with your door locked and All Might in your bathroom, but that didn’t stop tendrils of unease winding around your neck.

 “He started going by Scissorhands- Ugh, it was tacky if you ask me,” she sniffed primly. Never let anyone tell you that Ivy wasn’t a class act, you thought fondly. Still, the name made your insides twist uncomfortably. From what you’d seen on the snippets of news reports that day- he’d certainly lived up to his chosen name.

 You had never been truly frightened in all the years that you’d been treating criminals. Even during that first meeting with All Might, you had never felt like you were in any immediate danger- so long as you kept your mouth shut and remained respectful.

 But Cash…

 He was the type to cut your throat because he didn’t like the colour of your curtains or some shit.

 His entire visit had deeply unsettled you and set you on edge for days afterwards. Even now, despite the fact that he hadn’t delivered on his ‘promise’, you couldn’t really settle.

 Every movement he’d made that day, every little twitch of his hands had caused your body to recoil and had it not been for the tight hold you had over your Quirk, you might have done more harm than good.

 Thankfully, it had been a straight forward procedure but from the way your body trembled, you’d have thought it was your very first time all over again. He’d picked up on your nerves from the moment he’d sat down, leering whenever you flinched.

 Glass and debris had become embedded directly under his left eye from the bank robbery he’d partaken in, just hours before. It had been on the Channel Five news, which was partly why you were so on edge. His fingers had still been bloody from the security guard he’d literally torn apart.

 Heavy set, with wide shoulders and contrasting sharp features, you knew that had he made a move that day, you wouldn’t have had a chance to fight him off.

 The shaking of your hands had thankfully been negated by your Quirk.

 Precision wasn’t the most amazing Quirk in the world but it was particularly useful in your line of work. Being able to hit your target despite the shaking of your hands had saved you precious time.

 Quick, yet terrified, you’d cleaned up his face and as politely as you could, tried to see him out. But his hand had clamped down on your thigh, too high for comfort and your whole body froze- your eyes staring unseeingly past him.

You couldn’t breathe in anything more than quick, frightened gasps. He seemed to revel in them.

 You felt like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, seconds before the deadly bite.

 He’d leaned in close, his breath repulsive and sour and you’d thought of a million ways to escape in those few seconds- none of them even remotely useful.

 “I really appreciate this, Doc. It’s hard to find a woman with steady hands like yours...”

He had lifted one of them, examining it. 

“Wonderful quirk. So useful... I can see why All Might likes you so much. I think I quite like you too.”

 You had prepared for the worst. Mentally written your last will and testament and prayed to God that when he was finished with you he would just leave Marco be- the thought of him harming your cat suddenly far more prevalent in your mind than what was going to happen to you. 

Strangely though, he’d simply gotten up from the chair, stroked your cheek as you sat there like a statue and then let himself out. Not before throwing his parting remark over his shoulder, though. The one that had been haunting you all week.

 “I’ll see you again real soon, honey.”

 Naturally, you hadn’t gone after him for the payment he’d skimped out on.

 Hell to the no. Instead, you’d locked your front door, hyperventilated for a good fifteen minutes on your living room floor and then much to your embarrassment… you’d called All Might. 

For the first time ever.

 You had passed the call off as some dumb suggestion that he come over for pizza and a movie, like you were best friends and not potential-fuck-buddies. You hadn’t even had the strength to hide the tremble in your voice, nor the will to throw in any bravado. It had been a brutally honest call- one that you had never wanted to make.

 It was like letting him see the real you. Removing that final barrier between you that might hold you back from feeling anything real. That conversation had changed something, you thought. Something deep.

 “H-Hey! I know I never call like this but... I-I… Could you come over?”

 Your voice had been small and shaky, with you on the verge of tears- even though you would rather die than let them fall over someone so vile.

 There had been a pause on the other end, mid-way through whatever sarcastic thing he’d been about to berate you with.

 “Please?”

 You had added that without even thinking about it, voice catching and the grip of Cash’s hand still burning on your thigh. You had thought, in that silence, that he was going to brush you off. Either that or demand to know what was wrong. Thankfully, he did neither.

 “Ten minutes.”

 The longest ten minutes of your life. He had found you pacing a hole in the floor of your living room and petting the ever-loving bejesus out of Marco- stressed to the max. You’d locked eyes with him and he hadn’t even had to ask if you were glad to see him. Your face said it all.

 He hadn’t asked what had happened and you hadn’t told him… but he’d stayed anyway. A real villain, that one.

 “Sounds about right to me,” you scoffed, tone disgusted at the thought of that… that man. “Ives, I don’t scare easily, you know that... but I know full well what he wanted and it wasn’t a back rub. What does this have to do with why All Might turned up injured?”

 You felt unsettled at having him brought up out of the blue. You’d been quite happy to forget all about him and the way that his gaze had made your skin crawl.

 “Everything. The word should be getting out any minute now, about our dear departed Tim Burton knockoff.”

 You paused, startled and unsure if you’d heard her right.

 “Departed?”

 “Oh, he’s very, very dead darling,” Ivy said lightly, as if she was just telling you the weather for the day.

 The relief that washed over you was momentous and almost made your knees give way, causing you to grip the table for support. He was dead. You were free of the lurking shadow of fear that plagued your days and nights. The one that robbed you of decent sleep because you were jumping at every little noise in your apartment.

 “Is it bad that I just wanna say ‘Oh thank God’?” you replied, breath knocked from you. Ivy laughed. She sounded just as pleased as you felt.

 “You won’t be the only one, I’m sure. He must have put up a halfway decent fight, if it took you that long to stitch up a little old cut,” she said, pointedly as though waiting for you to work things out. She was probably disappointed that she didn’t get to see your reaction when you did.

 Oh. Holy shit.

 “All Might killed him!?” you squeaked, then lowered your voice drastically in case he heard you. “Are you fucking with me right now, Ivy? Because that’s not cool.”

 You didn’t really know how to feel about it, if it was true. You were more than relieved that the looming shadow of Cash was gone forever but regretful that somehow, All Might had found out what you’d tried to keep from him and had gotten himself hurt in the process of doing something about it.

 “It’s true,” she said, confirming it. “You and I both know I hate giving that overrated blowhard any credit… but something had to be done about him. Cash had it coming, either way. There are plenty of girls at the Golden Cat who’ll be glad to see him gone.”

 You swallowed hard. Your silence was more you being concerned over All Might’s well being than over the fact that he had killed a man tonight. He’d killed plenty of people in the time you’d known him.

That wasn’t about to destroy the image of him that you had.

It was more the deep seated worry that always gripped you when he was involved in something dangerous. Usually, you could worry yourself sick over the news broadcast and at least then, if anything happened, you would know.

But tonight, he’d gone out there and gone one on one with a man who could rip people apart from the inside out- and you hadn’t even known. What if he’d never come back? What if he’d died because of you and word would get back to you, weeks down the line that you would never see him again?

Something horrid lodged in your stomach.

 “Won’t he get heat from other villains?” you asked to distract yourself, rubbing the top of Marco’s head as he trotted past- blissfully unaware of your minor breakdown. “Isn’t there some… I dunno… Code of conduct or something? Honour among thieves?”

 Ivy snorted, obviously amused at your blatant lack of knowledge. You would think that someone as deep into the criminal underworld as you were would at least know a little about how things operated. But no. 

You chose to remain blissfully ignorant.

 “Hmm, well here’s the thing. The King makes the rules and All Might, well… as much as I’m loathe to admit it, he wears the crown babes. Who the Hell is going to argue with him?” she asked and you bit your lip, the fear of retaliation lessening.

 It was no secret that he was both feared and respected- enough to keep even the toughest of the tough under his thumb. There wasn’t a Hero or Villain in the world who could realistically take him on, one on one, and win.

 That thought relaxed you and the horrid sensation lessened. It didn’t leave entirely, but it receded enough that you could breathe again.

 “Anyway, to cut a long story short… Cash wasn’t exactly secretive about what he liked to do to girls. He was always running his mouth and tonight, he came in absolutely singing about some pretty little Doctor that he’d fallen head over heels for…” Ivy said sourly, obviously not enjoying this part of the story.

 You enjoyed it even less. It didn’t take a genius to work out just who that Doctor was. Your hope that he’d just been trying to scare you when he threatened to see you again had been futile, apparently and you were suddenly so glad that you’d asked All Might to stay that night.

 “ You’re pretty well known yourself around here, sweets. Did you know that?”

 You hadn’t known, no, but you kept quiet.

 “It didn’t take long for a few of the regulars to work out just who Cash was talking about. Word got around like wildfire and eventually got to old Shigaraki himself. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine tonight, it took five and a half minutes from Shigaraki calling his boss, until All Might was storming the Golden Cat.”

 Damn, there had been you, badmouthing Shigaraki not ten minutes ago in your head. If it hadn’t been for him telling All Might, who knows what would be happening to you right now?

 You made a mental note to be extra nice to him the next time you saw him.

 The thought that Cash had been interested in you made you shudder, sickened at the thought of him even thinking about you like that. Your body felt grimy and you resisted the urge to run to the bathroom and scrub yourself clean.

 All Might was officially your fucking hero and he could pry that word from your cold, dead hands.

 Sure, he would be horrified at the implication but that didn’t make it any less true. Maybe that’s why he’d brushed off your questioning earlier, being difficult when you wanted to know how he’d been injured.

 You caught yourself grinning stupidly, attempting to hide it by biting your lip. You realised that there was no point. Ivy couldn’t see you anyway.

 “So, I think the message is officially loud and clear. No-one fucks with the good Doctor,” she laughed, all angelic and sweet and you beamed down the phone, laughing along with her. You felt a heady sort of rush as the realisation that you were safe again sunk in. That the villains you had helped and minded and treated like people over the years had heard that you were in danger and had come to the rescue in their own way.

 The realisation that… that he cared. Deep down, past his angry and irritable nature, he really cared.

 “Ivy, I-”

 Without warning, two large, muscular arms wrapped around your waist from behind and you might have jumped had All Might not buried his face into your neck and rumbled a low, lazy growl, like a bear waking up from hibernation. He nuzzled you with a deliberate slowness, lips pressing warm against your throat.

 “You still talking to the sewer rat?” he murmured, sounding annoyed because he knew you wouldn’t hang up on her just because he said so- and so he would have to wait as patiently as he could until you were done.

 On the other hand, it was an opportunity to rile Ivy up as much as possible.

 “It’s Vagabond, you overgrown man child,” she hissed down the line, all previous goodwill towards him gone from her voice.

 All Might ignored her, choosing instead to tug you back until you were plastered against his chest and he could lay his kisses along your shoulder- even though he still had to stoop down to reach. How did he even get so tall? Your breath caught in your throat, longing and gratitude fighting for the number one spot.

 He wasn’t going to stay patient for much longer and neither were you.

 “Listen, I gotta go, Ives. Love you, babes,” you said quickly and she cackled manically, well aware of where you were rushing off to in such a hurry. This was only proving her right. She would be insufferable for weeks now.

 “Love you too, sweets! Try not to break anything. Like the building.”

 You hung up to the sound of her laughter and turned in All Might’s arms, surprising him when you pulled him down for a kiss. You were long past the point of worrying about morals and right and wrong. There couldn’t be anything wrong in wanting him like you did. In knowing that he protected you and cared about you in his own way- no matter if he never said it out loud.

 He broke away, smirking.

 “Someone’s eager,” he ground out, hands sweeping up along your sides. His thumb brushed the underside of your breast and you pulled in a shaky, uneven breath. “I bet you’ll be fucking soaking…”

 Well, he wasn’t wrong. Those intense eyes trailed over your face, lingering on your lips until he locked his gaze with yours.

 “Thank you,” you blurted out, without meaning to.

 One of his eyebrows quirked, amused.

 “You’re thanking me for making you wet? That’s a new one on me sweetheart but sure. I’ll take the credit where it’s due,” he laughed cockily, one hand on the back of your head as he dove forward again and kissed you roughly. This one was all teeth and tongue and your knees shook, suddenly feeling thankful that he was holding you up.

 You moaned softly, powerless but confident under his touch.

 There was no pushing him back, no sliding your tongue into his mouth because the man was a force of nature and practically every inch of him was pure muscle. So you were content to let him take what he wanted from you, for now. Later you would find a way to turn the tables- to make him the quivering pathetic mess.

 Right now, all you wanted was to find out all of the ways he kissed.

 The angry ones, the lust filled ones, the sweet ones. The good morning kisses and the I’m happy to see you kisses and all the fucking kisses in between. You were off to a great start. You sighed, tangling your fingers in his hair and stroking your thumb in a circle on his scalp.

 He melted under your touch and deep down you revelled in the fact that he was just as affected by you as you were by him.

 “I um,” you stuttered, swallowing hard when you reluctantly pulled away from him. He looked as though he wanted to follow your mouth but for a change he let you speak. “I didn’t mean thank you for- for that.”

 “For what?” he asked knowing full well what you meant, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip.

 “For…” Your face heated quickly, without you even realising it.

 Without warning, a hand was shoved between your already shaky legs and he pressed upwards, cupping your pussy and dragging a half halting, surprised moan out of your throat. He almost took you off your feet and your fingers wrapped over his biceps to steady yourself.

 “For. What?” All Might asked again, applying pressure in all the places you needed pressure applied. Oh you were well and truly fucked and he hadn’t even gotten you naked yet.

 “Cause if you’re blushing now, kitten, then I can’t wait to see what you’ll be like when we really get going,” he continued, nuzzling along your cheek and rubbing his palm over your aching pussy. “M’not a mind reader. You have to tell me what you want. Where you want me. How hard you want me to pound into you. I wanna hear you sobbing my name like it’s the last fucking thing you’ll ever say tonight. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”

 You were gripping his arms for dear life, trying to focus on the steady heaving of your lungs. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 “Yeah, yeah, I can do it,” you promised, almost without hearing the words come out of your mouth. “I promise.”

 “Good girl,” he purred encouragingly and you just about lost your shit for a few seconds, along with any sense you might have had left as the praising words repeated on a loop in your head. “Now, I’ll ask again. What weren’t you thanking me for?”

 He was grinning wickedly against your cheek, eyes boring into yours.

 “For making me wet,” you responded finally, when your tongue no longer felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and you remembered how to speak actual words and not just garbled syllables.

 He groaned- actually groaned like you were the one touching him, instead of the other way around and it sent a shivering wave of heat spreading out at the base of your spine. Your clit throbbed mercilessly under the heat of his palm.

 “Christ kitten,” he said, voice hoarse. He didn’t pull his hand away like you thought he would though. You were still sensitive from your little dry humping session earlier and the pressure he was applying was agonising torture for so many reasons.

 You both knew he would pull away though if you even tried to set the pace. He’d made it perfectly clear that he was in charge.

 “Now, what were you thanking me for? You’ve got me all curious.”

 You felt dizzy and the words didn’t exactly come easily. The heat radiating off of his bare chest was intoxicating and so was the sight of all those well defined, rippling muscles so easily within reach. You indulged yourself, seeing as you hadn’t been able to earlier. You lightly trailed the pads of your fingers over his pectoral muscle and down at a steady pace, over the hardness of his abs and then to the tempting, glorious V shape that led under-

 Your smile came unbidden to you and he noticed, knowing immediately what you were grinning like an idiot about. He was wearing the pajama pants you’d gotten him.

 They were simple, nondescript pants like any guy would wear but… you’d gotten them in his favourite colour and he’d actually put them on.

 You’d expected him to either stay in his towel or well, just get the clothes out of the way entirely.

 “Yeah, yeah,” he snorted, releasing you when he realised that he’d gotten your attention in an entirely different way. The loss of sensation between your legs was more than worth it to see him standing there, a little awkwardly, with his arms crossed. “Don’t be a jackass about it, for fuck sake. I just didn’t want to have my dick out when I was eating dinner.”

 “Like that would bother you,” you beamed and he grunted something petulant that you didn’t hear.

 “You gonna tell me what you’re thanking me for, or what?” he said after a moment, ignoring the obvious erection that was tenting the front of said pants. You found it very, very hard to ignore but dragged your eyes up to his face after a moment anyway. His self assured smirk was expected.

 He knew how attractive he was and what it was doing to you. Damn him.

 “Cash,” you managed to say after a moment and it clearly didn’t answer his question. He looked at you like you were an idiot.

 “You… want cash? Here was me thinking you weren’t a whore,” he cackled, pleased at his own cleverness. You were less amused, punching him lightly in the arm. The shaking of his shoulders didn’t stop but at least he was no longer laughing out loud.

 You were trying to spill your heart to the big jerk and he couldn’t stop mocking you for more than five seconds.

 “Come on! Stop being a dick,” you scowled, arousal now tainted with annoyance. He rolled his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his slicked back hair, his laughter dying after a moment.

 “Alright, alright! Explain yourself, woman,” he swept his hands out, metaphorically giving you the floor.

 “Hinata Cash,” you elaborated, expecting the penny to drop. But when he continued to look lost, it slowly dawned on you that he’d never even bothered to learn the guys name. All he’d known was that he was going to do something to hurt you and… that had been enough for him to go on. Your heart thrummed in your chest. “Um, Scissorhands?”

 Much like they had earlier, his eyes darkened, flashing a sudden warning that it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. Unlike earlier though, you ignored it. Answers to your question were just out of reach.

 “Why are you bringing up that motherfucker?” he asked gruffly, then swept past you almost dismissively before you could answer. He disappeared into your kitchen, his back to you. Not the reaction you had been expecting. The heated air had vanished- as had the playfulness he’d exuded moments before. “Way to kill a mood, doll.”

 You suddenly regretted opening your mouth. He hadn’t told you- and if he hadn’t told you, there had been a reason for it.

 “Shit,” you hissed softly to yourself, listening to him stomping around the kitchen behind you.

 You turned and followed him, pathetically useless against the part of you that longed to be near him. Besides, there was no taking it back now and you were burning up with curiosity.

 Why had he killed Cash? Why had he even bothered himself at all?

 Most of all, you wanted- no needed to know.

 Had he done it for you?

-------------------------

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

[johannas-motivational-insults]

For the DVD commentary ask, my first thought was the BDE/“no toasters” scene from Chapter 3 of Satisfaction, because the idea of a “making of” commentary over that is very funny to me for some reason. But since that probably falls quite a bit too far on the NSFW side, my fallback was the scene from Chapter 20 of Demons where Catra decides to leave the Horde. That one is probably my favorite of the story so far.

omfg, that would be hysterical but I don’t even know what I’d say about that. Your easy pick is an excellent choice though so I’ll do that! (Commentary is bolded.)

I was so excited to finally release this chapter after so much buildup of Catra becoming disillusioned with the Horde and her identity in it. It was clear to me that Catra would not leave just because something bad happened to her, that would only make her more determined to stay and prove herself, so she’d have to see people she cared about getting hurt to make that mental leap. And so, this scene was born.

Eyes scrunching shut, Catra covers her mouth in an attempt to suppress a yawn. It leaks out through her fingers all the same, high and squeaky and embarrassing. Blinking the focus back into her eyes, she flicks them around in search of witnesses. Seeing no cadets looking her way, she sighs in relief and folds her arms back together. She scowls into the sparring circle, watching but hardly paying attention. Is she really supposed to give a shit about any of this?

Don’t forget this happens the morning after Catra has her big breakdown when it hits her that she’ll never have another chance to earn Shadow Weaver’s love or approval. She’s finally at a tipping point.

A few more moves and Lonnie is victorious, slamming her opponent on his back before rolling and dragging his wrist into a devastating arm bar. He taps out and Lonnie gets a modest amount of applause as she stands. Grinning with a sweeping bow, she offers a hand to her opponent, who takes it grudgingly. Kyle and another boy take their places in the circle and Lonnie shares high fives with a few cadets on her way out. She’s nursing a sprained ankle from a couple days ago, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she struts.

When Lonnie’s eyes lock onto hers, Catra groans internally. Of course Lonnie can’t just ignore the folded ears, crossed arms and twitchy tail that very clearly say ‘leave me the fuck alone.’ No, that’s like a homing beacon for Lonnie. She’s always gotten a kick out of getting under Catra’s skin.

Well, Catra won’t give her the satisfaction. As Lonnie sidles up to her, she extends a congratulatory fist. “Nice armbar, dipshit.”

Lonnie grins, bumping it with pride. “Thanks, bitch.”

I love these two so much. Anyone who reads my fics can probably tell but I am Invested in Catralonnie. In my head this ship falls under the category ‘brotps who hate fuck.’

She turns to the circle and they stand silently side by side, watching as the next fight gets underway. In theory, anyway. Catra’s zoning out, her lips sinking into a frown as she settles back into the numb, dark, heavy place she’s been inhabiting today. Grief, she supposes, though not in the usual sense of the word. She’s not grieving that abusive witch who tormented her all those years, body and soul. No, what she’s grieving is the end of their relationship, how it’s encased in stone forever, how she’ll have no more chances to make things right. No more chances to make Shadow Weaver proud, to earn a gentle touch and kind words, to earn her pride and her trust. But that’s bullshit, and she knows it. Those things were never earned, never given fairly.

Oh, she’s starting to get it...

Catra grits her teeth, glaring straight ahead. Today’s numbness has been punctuated by occasional bursts of anger, rage so blinding it makes her wants to tear her own skin to shreds to purge the feeling from her body. (*thousand year stare into the camera*) She rides out this latest wave of fury in silence, clenching her fists but keeping her claws sheathed to avoid making a scene in public. She takes a few deep breaths, pushing them out until the sensation releases her and she sinks back into the depths.

Shadow Weaver is gone. Catra will never get what she needs. It’s over.

Girl, you need to get you some therapy.

“What’s eating you?”

Catra jumps slightly at the invasive words, turning to find Lonnie watching her with those infuriatingly smug green eyes. Licking her lips, Lonnie cracks, “I know it isn’t Adora.”

Me @ y’all:

Catra’s eyes narrow and she gives Lonnie a weak shove, prompting a laugh. “Nothing’s eating me,” she growls. “I’m fine.”

“Then why aren’t you sparring?” asks Lonnie. “Usually you love the chance to beat the shit out of some dumb human.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Catra answers flatly, mouth twitching only slightly. She doesn’t have the energy to be indignant. She doesn’t give a shit.

Damn that’s when you know Catra’s really got it bad.

Nodding with an exaggerated hum, Lonnie remarks, “You’ve been weird all day, dude. Broody, like more than normal.” (Have I mentioned how much I love Lonnie??) Catra summons the strength to shoot her a withering glare, but she’s undeterred. “You snuck into the barracks after midnight last night, then you woke me up again with your snivelling at four in the fucking morning,” she says with a glare of her own. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything, assface,” retorts Catra, jamming a threatening claw against her chest. “And I was only snivelling because I inhaled something weird up on the rooftops.”

Lonnie tips her head with a condescending smirk. “Sure, Catra.”

Yes, this is in fact a hat tip to ‘Sure, Jan.’

“I’m serious,” insists Catra. “There must’ve been some kind of spill in one of the factories.”

“Uh huh.”

Catra turns away with a glower, shaking her head. “Whatever, fuck you.”

“You wish,” snickers Lonnie.

“Ughhh!” Catra smacks her forehead with a huge sigh of exasperation. “Fine, I’ll fight you if it will get you to shut up. For fuck’s sakes, Lonnie.”

Lonnie’s preferred method of therapy is to piss people off enough that they’ll fight her and I think that’s very sexy of her.

Chuckling deeply beside her, Lonnie slings an arm around Catra’s shoulder and gives her a playful shake. “That’s my girl.”

Catra would usually shove Lonnie away in this situation, but she doesn’t this time. She’s too tired to fight the contact and needs to save her strength for the actual fight. Besides, it’s not the end of the world. Lonnie’s arm is beefy but not so heavy as to be uncomfortable. The pressure is actually kind of soothing in a way, clearing Catra’s mind and lulling her into a state of calm. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, let alone Lonnie.

BROTPS WHO HATE FUCK Y’ALL. Okay but honestly I love that I have this relationship to work with because having someone who’s really good at getting under Catra’s skin is another way to open up her character. Lonnie is not only a loveable character she’s a very useful one for a writer who tells stories primarily through character work and relationships.

A loud thud and a howl of pain pierce the air, snapping Catra back to the moment. Her ears prick up at the familiar sound and she moves toward it on instinct, only to realize she’s half a step behind Lonnie. Humans like to say that cats aren’t pack animals, she’s heard that one many times as a reason she can’t be trusted. Catra is no more an animal than anyone else here, but she thinks Magicats must be different from their feline relatives in that way. The urge to protect her pack is overwhelming and immutable. One of her squadmates is hurt, and she needs to be there to help. Now.

Anyone who says Catra doesn’t care about other people can fucking fight me and that’s a fact.

She and Lonnie arrive at the edge of the circle to find Kyle sprawled on his stomach, moaning and writhing, pounding the floor as he tries to hold back wails of pain. It’s not immediately apparent what the problem is from Catra’s vantage point, but Rogelio is already kneeling on Kyle’s other side, telling him to breathe and that he’s going to be fine.

Okay so I fucking went 16 chapters never specifying whether the rest of the squad understood Rogelio’s language because it wasn’t clear in canon and I wanted to see if they would confirm it one way or the other, and of course as soon as I posted chapter 17 (where I specify that they can) season 4 came out and implied that they know him well enough to understand via his tone and gesturing but they don’t understand the language. So mark me down as annoyed over that. Anyway that wasn’t something I wanted to retcon so I kept it for the rest of the fic.

The instructor, some lower tier officer Catra doesn’t really know, steps into the ring. Pushing Kyle’s worried sparring partner aside, he shouts, “Enough theatrics! Get up and fight!”

Oh boy, Shadow Weaver likes to use that word on Adora too. I don’t remember if this mirrored that intentionally.

Catra feels Lonnie tense beside her, hears Rogelio snorting at Kyle that his leg is broken and he’d better stay the fuck down. Cringing in anticipation, Catra peeks over Kyle’s body and immediately wishes she hadn’t. The sight of his unnaturally bent shinbone sends a shudder of sympathy through her bones.

The instructor must not have any reptile friends (likely) or he understands and is a complete and utter asshole (also likely), because he keeps yelling at Kyle, “Come on, don’t be such a princess! I said get up, you coward!”

The boys’ wailing and snorting is getting them nowhere, so Lonnie intercedes. Gesturing down at the deformed limb, she shouts over the din. “His leg’s broken! You really think that’s a good idea?”

The instructor’s mouth falls open and he peers down at Kyle and then back up at Lonnie, his face turning red. “Don’t talk to me that way, Cadet!” he barks. “You’re running laps for the next half hour.”

Okay, Shadow Weaver Lite.

Lonnie blinks, purging her face of emotion. “I’m just trying to help. You needed a translator.”

“The next hour!” he shouts. “Wanna push it more?”

Scowling, Lonnie shakes her head tersely and begins to push her way out of the circle of cadets. Watching her go, the instructor puffs out his chest and waves a dismissive hand down at Kyle.

“Someone take this weakling to the infirmary,” he orders.

Rogelio glares up at the instructor, though to be fair the asshole probably can’t read reptilian expressions either. Lucky Hel. Rolling his whimpering boyfriend to lie on his back, which results in another howl of pain, he grunts out an apology. Then, supporting the injured leg with one massive arm and the rest of his body with the other, he scoops Kyle up and carries him away.

Okay but the bridal carry is *chef’s kiss*

As the crowd reforms around the sparring circle, the instructor claps Kyle’s partner on the shoulder and declares, “Alright, let’s get a real soldier in here to fight this guy!”

I feel really bad for this kid tbh.

The cadets erupt into cheers and several rush forward to take Kyle’s place, which results in a couple of impromptu fights as they try to push each other out of the circle. Catra is knocked back into the crowd in the process, but she doesn’t react with her usual bared teeth and claws, too busy staring slack-jawed at the chaos. Never in her life has she felt more disconnected from her surroundings, not even when she wanted to be.

At one point in her life (okay, many points), Catra would have been clamoring along with the rest of them. For a chance not just to prove herself, but to avenge her injured squadmate. But she feels no need to prove herself to this incompetent asshole of an instructor, and it’s not that kid’s fault they’re compelled to fight each other like this. He clearly felt terrible about Kyle, anyway.

As Catra watches the scene play out, watches the instructor continue to egg the cadets on, only one clear thought forms in her head.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Seriously. How is it weak and cowardly not to stand and fight on a broken leg? That’s not how the body works. Then again, they also like to say that deserters are weak and cowardly. Maybe they don’t know what those words even mean. Maybe weak and cowardly just means having a mind of your own.

Catra’s eyes track Lonnie as she hobbles around the room with a red face and clenched fists. Though she isn’t visibly fuming in the same way, a similar heat smolders deep in Catra’s belly, filling her mind with treasonous thoughts. The whole thing is so fucking unfair. But that’s hardly some grand revelation. Nothing that happens in the Fright Zone is fair.

So what is she even doing here?

That thought in particular makes Catra blink. Hard. She knows why she’s here, she’s been saying it over and over, clinging to these words, this need. She needs to show them they were wrong, she needs to achieve what everyone thought her incapable of. If she leaves, she’ll never do that, and everything that happened here would be for nothing. But if nothing is fair here, rising to the top says nothing about her qualifications, only her ability to work the system. A system that’s absolute bullshit.

And who does she need to prove it to, anyway? These mindless idiots submitting to an incompetant authority figure? Her temperamental former boss who put blind faith in her one day and took it away the next? Her deceased sorry excuse for a mother? Her ex-best friend who left her alone to suffer, but has since come to understand her wrongdoings? No… the only person Catra really needs to prove it to is herself. But if the system is bullshit, there’s nothing to prove, only a painful void to fill with… something.

Honestly this is a rough feeling to deal with but at least now that the illusion has been broken she can go about trying to find that thing to fill it. And no that’s not a sex joke lmao, though I suppose it could be.

Scorpia’s words from last night filter into Catra’s brain through the distant sounds of cheering and shouting. If it feels like everything is for nothing, she needs to find a way to make something of her suffering so she can be at peace. Her eyes fall on Lonnie again, her ears recalling Kyle’s sounds of agony. If she can stop other people from being hurt the way she was, would that make something of it? Would that be enough to satisfy the longing deep inside her, to heal the yawning, yearning chasm Shadow Weaver created with her rejection and cruelty, with her refusal to provide validation and affection? Catra doesn’t know.

All Catra knows is she’s done with this shit.

Catra I am so proud of you bb I love you and you deserve better.

Anyway sorry I had less coherent thoughts for this commentary but this scene makes me emotional so I got a little meme-happy. I have had many experiences like this where I was just holding, holding onto something that was unhealthy or a lost cause and then something happened and a switch flipped in my brain, releasing me from that mind trap. I really wanted to get the feeling of that experience across and I’m proud of how it turned out. It’s a great payoff scene for that whole ‘return to the Horde’ arc for Catra. I didn’t want her to leave for Adora but I also knew she wouldn’t leave for herself until she witnessed the brutality and inequality hurting someone else.

[boogiewrites]

Reports & Repertoire 17: Resentment & Return

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Summary:  Candy tries to find her way about the world after being roofied and hushed by the media. Eddie is hit with a strong dose of karma, and it's two against one.

Warnings/Tags: Angst. Talk of past trauma and drugging. Revenge plots. Violence and threats.

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. 

On the navy comforter of her queen size bed, sat in the middle of her minimalist white and grey room, Candy sits with her best friend Steph who is currently threatening her if she blinks one more time.

“You act like you’ve never put on eyeliner before.” Steph remarks with her judgment not hidden in her tone or expression.

“It’s different when other people are doing it!” She whines. “The makeup artist at work doesn’t do it as hard as you.” She mutters. “She’s also a lot nicer.” She shoots an accusatory brow her way.

“Well she’s getting paid isn’t she?” Steph smirks.

“Fair point.” Candy responds without nodding her head. “But you love me so you should be nice to me. I’m about to go do some important stuff I need support.” She reaches out and grabs at Steph’s unoccupied hand desperately as she bites her tongue and titters.

“Yeah, that’s what you got Eddie for now.” She snarks and shakes her head. “Speaking of, what does he think about all this?”

“He’s as pissed as I am so he’s down. He’s my backup.” She answers with a sultry lilt.

“I’m sure you are backing it up on that beefy, award-winning journalist.” She teases with a fanciful swipe of her hand. “Tell me. When you two have sex do you both have a press conference afterward to discuss the transaction?” Her face remains without a hint of sarcasm as was her skill set.

“As a matter of fact we do. It’s very productive.” She retorts with sassy. “The copy is good to keep and read later alone.” She grins.

“You fuckin’ nerds.” Steph mumbles and shakes her head. Steph was more skilled when it came to makeup than Candy. So for this undercover mission to the rich tech club where the drugging happened, she was helping her not look like herself.

After the initial turn down of her idea to expose the apparently rampant problem she’d been a victim of, she does what few journalists choose to do and gives away her story to someone else. There was a smaller female journalist who did some excellent work at a small newspaper locally. Candy offered her help to give her some footage, evidence and lend the story and support to the endeavor.

The night for the first recon mission was finally upon them. Eddie sits nervously in the modern and cozy living room, knee bouncing and knuckles white with worry. Venom tries to console him, assuring him they would never let anything happen to Candy. Eddie knows, finding his counterparts attempts at comfort to be failing. Putting his favorite person in danger wasn’t really something he could be talked into being excited about. Not a worst-case scenario by far, but a loudly nagging issue, was having to sit and listen to the men hit on Candy all night and that alone was raising his blood pressure.

Candy had pulled out all the stops when it came to mission from the glasses that had a camera inside and nail polish that reacted to Rohypnol, or Roofies. She had to specially ask for the kick starter to be sent to her before the release with the promise of free advertising after the fact to get it. She reveals her disguise, exiting from her bedroom, Venom slithering around the back of the couch to see her before Eddie. She was in something that looked entirely unlike her. A short and tight black dress, a push-up bra with chicken cutlets and enough makeup to give her flashbacks to middle school cheer competitions.

“How do I look?” she asks with a scrunch of her nose.  It’s usual button shape now straight with the help of Steph’s contouring.

“Not like you.” Eddie remarks with an approving nod.

“A big titty goth girlfriend.” Venom says with no humor or irony and the girls begin to laugh. “Why is this funny? This is what Eddie says. Why are you embarrassed Eddie? Large mammary glands and gothic styling are wonderful things in a girlfriend. She wears black. Like me.” he grins as Edie blushes.

“It’s a...an old internet thing, dude just… don’t go around talking about titties so freely. It’s rude.”

“I did not mean to offend… thought it was a compliment.”

“Good use of slang there, hun.” Candy praises his efforts. “I appreciate both of your thinking I have big tits though. It’s just the bra.” she laughs and shakes as Venom’s grin grows wider.

“Calm down.” Eddie groans.

“We are calm,” he says retracting himself back to Eddie’s shoulder. “Are you ready? We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“Let’s check the camera first.” Candy says with a clear enthusiasm Eddie did not share.

They run the tests and she learns how to direct her gaze most efficiently. They’d gone over the plan a dozen times. Arrive alone, sit and be bait while Venom lurked on the roof and kept a lookout for her and her victim. They left the house separately, both in taxis that picked them up at places other than her house. She arrived as planned and sat, and waited.

For a girl that looked like her, in a bar like that, it didn’t take long once it was established she was alone. No one recognized her, but she didn’t expect them to, Steph’s contouring really was a miracle worker. She played fun and easy, and it took a few guys, but late enough in the night she finally caught one as she played drunk on top of everything else. She didn’t see the guys who had drugged her before, which was a letdown but anyone who would do this deserved it right?

She talked him up, a trust fund baby who, with his father's money, had a tech start-up. It took no effort on her part to get him talking about his genius and how HE would run Tesla if he had the chance. There were a lot of “Oh my god that’s CRAZY!” and “That’s SOOOO smart.”’s from her but he was so caught up in hearing himself he didn’t notice the soundboard answers as they came from her like a kid hitting buttons on a customized keyboard. With the mere suggestion of her excusing herself and asking him to get her another drink, he was antsy to put his own plan into action. On return, she tested it while distracting him with her chest. A task that proved almost too easy. She fake drank for a while before claiming to feel sleepy and wanting to “get this show on the road” before it got too late.

With a short walk, not even a few blocks down, she knew her alien accomplice was close, slinking in the darkness of the rooftops. The disguised Candy pulls the unsuspecting predator out of the street lamp lit sidewalk and into the dank shadows of the greasy alleyway.

“I  just can’t wait.” she giggles “I don’t want to chance my roommate being in and I want you all to myself.” she coos with a bop of her manicured finger to his nose.

“I mean, your roommate can join in too if she wants.” he offers with a smug smirk.

“Well, the problem is my roommates a dude.” She answers with an upward inflection.

“Ah, red flag much?” he laughs.

“No. He’s my boyfriend… and inhabited by a symbiote.” Her delivery goes flat, sober eyes meet the pursuer turned victim.

“What the fuck? You goth girls are fuckin’ crazy, man. Not even the drugs could come up that shit.” he shakes his head, still laughing.

“No. Really. He’s huge and dangerous and doesn’t like you. You’re a piece of shit who tries to drug women to sleep with them because you're a pathetic excuse for a human who can’t get laid on his own.”

“Wait, what?” he stutters, suddenly standing up straight as Venom drops from the rooftop behind her in an impressive slinking mass. She has to admit, the look of horror on his face did things to her. The sheer terror that only being faced with death could give a dense, self-worshiping asshole like him.

“We’re going to eat you. First that big head of yours...then slurp up your organs like fava beans and then drink your adrenaline glands like a nice  chianti.” His dagger teeth drip with drool, proof of his hunger and intention.

Candy beams with pride for the completion of their plan, stepping back and chuckling quietly at the reference Venom made. The guy doesn’t even have time to scream. There’s not a drop of blood or splatter left of him to find. It’s like it never happened at all.

Candy is left with a deeply satisfied, albeit disturbingly good feeling in her gut. “I’ll see you later, babe.” she whispers and just as quiet as they’d came, they fled.

This continued for a few weeks, the footage of the drugging is stored on an external harddrive Candy kept in her safe. Eddie thought it’d only happen once. But it happened again, twice, three times more before there were articles about mysterious disappearances of the young rich elite in town. Was it the work of the Illuminati some articles asked? She read them with her coffee every Tuesday and smiled knowingly. It pleased Venom. Finally, a human that understood him and his need to kill to eat and protect this planet and its people. But Eddie was more worried than relieved at this point.

—- “You made us stop hunting when we got too much media attention. And now you want to go out and do it again?” Candy could hear the concern for her in Eddie's voice but her own was too strong to heed his warning.

“I wanna find the guy that originally did it to me, Eddie.” Her eyes give away the hurt that’s been fueling her anger as her hands move animatedly while she argues her point. “These are awful people, same as who you get rid of, there’s no reason not to give it one more shot.”

Eddie sighs and puts his hands on his hips, feeling as if he was talking to his old self. “Candy, I don’t want a fight alright? I get why you’re upset and I’d be upset too!” His voice inflected hugger pitched with feeling, “Hell, I AM upset! I get it. I do but ya know you can’t keep pushing it. Your luck will run out… like mine did. You’ll push it just one step too far because of your pride and then boom, it all falls apart.”

“Am I supposed to just let it go what they did to me? To the countless other girls they’ve done it too?” He saw the tears she fought back and his heart hurt for her. He suddenly understood everyone that had tried to warn him of the same thing in the past. It was weird karma to witness.

He sighs and gives her sad and tired eyes, much like the ones she was giving him. “You aren’t… losing by moving on ya know. You can’t win them all, just believe me, babe, please. I’ve BEEN where you are alright? I GET it! I swear I do but you can't fix every wrong out there. You just can’t… I’m sorry.”

“I’m going out tonight. And you’re going to be there. That... I hesitate to call him a person but that asshole will be there who did this to me. I just know it. Let me do it just one more time and I’ll stop okay? Please Eddie?”

He groans and feels Venom wants to give his two cents. He was on Candy's side. But of course, he was, he didn’t grasp the situation fully because he couldn’t, he was damn near indestructible right now and one more buffet of bad guys seemed like it had no downsides when you took into account it meant making Candy happy. And they both wanted that, so desperately. She’d been so much happier since they’d started this after the funk she denied she’d fallen into after the roofie.

“Fine.” He says with more anger. “But just one more time Candy I swear to god, this is the last time I’m helping you do this.” He wags his finger and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t notice. She’d already gotten her way.

—— She had her ritual now she liked to do, the getting ready and primping. The adrenaline rush was enough to get anyone hooked on the feeling. Perhaps it was what made her go against sound advice. Perhaps it was the lack of justice for herself, feeling like a martyr to take on people who seemed untouchable. It was the origin story she’d dreamed of since she was young. A woman wronged, going against the bad guys for the ultimate revenge and winning against the odds. It was everything she’d wanted. And she foolishly thought she could have it.

She was right about one thing. The guy that drugged her was there that night. She and Venom only used this convenient coincidence to shut Eddie up. “It’s a sign!” They’d hissed together.

“It’s a bad idea.” was Eddies defeated reply.

Candy enjoys this one a little too much, a little too true-crime podcast subject for Eddie's liking.

She leads him to the alley with her curves and promises. Her heels giving her no trouble but her wobbly ankles playing like they did all the same to the target.

“You believe in karma?” She proposes, lips so close she could taste the alcohol in the air on his breath.

“Nah, you get what you work for. You gotta step on some toes sometimes to prove you’re the best. If you lose you didn’t try hard enough.” He cockily answered. Something he’d probably picked up from the few interactions he had with him billionaire father growing up. His trust fund was a shield against his own evil deeds.

“That’s a shame. Because I do.” She sighs.

“I don’t think we have to match up on our philosophy 101 ideas, babe.” He chuckles. “Don’t have to have anything in common at all to do what I wanna do to you.” His hands lead to her hips and next thing he knows there’s a knife pressed into his neck. This was new. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Eddie's heartbeat picks up as he sees through Venom's eyes what’s happening. She was in too deep and she was only going to dig herself deeper.

“I’m glad we have one thing in common for what I’m going to do to you.” She snarls, taking her wig and glasses off.

“What the…?!” He says with no fear and only surprise. “Wait aren’t you? Holy shit you again?” He laughs. “So you’re the one doing this little vigilante justice thing. How cute.”

“Cute? You were going to rape me and my friend you fucking disgusting, baby dicked piece of shit.”

“They're onto you sweetie.” He grins. “You can do whatever you want to me but you think killing the brightest minds in the world was a smart idea? Like no one would come looking? You really are stupid.”

“You can call me whatever you want because you’ll be dead and I’ll be able to breathe a little easier knowing one less asshole like you is in this world.”

“Do what you want little girl, but I’m gonna put up a fight you can’t win.” He smirks.

“Doubtful.” Is Venom's response as he appears looking over Candy in the dim and dank alley.

“Good riddance.” She says angrily, putting her wig back on. She continues to mutter curses and name call while her eyes well up with a long-held release that was a long time coming.

“Are you-“

“I’m FINE.” She snaps and wipes at a falling tear. Venom recoils noticeably. “I’ll... see you later.” She rushes out before stomping off.

“Eddie?”

“I know man. She’s just… going through a lot.”

“We are worried.”

“Yeah. We are.”

-----------------------------

@hardygal69​ @marvelgirl7​ @emerald-bijou @brianaisasongbird​ @vale0413​ @izzy-the-ginger​ @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @anrm1 @jademox​ @nightcraver​ @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco​ @chipster-21​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @queenof-wakanda @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @peakys-mystic​