#‘-also stop reading Wattpad instead of studying. You know that your grades matter more to you.’

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: Wanda's boyfriend continues to be an aggravation in your life, causing some distance between you and Wanda

warning/s: none

author's note: i really appreciate the feedback you guys gave in the last part – it’s always motivating to read your reactions/comments 🥰

part one | part two | part four | part five | masterlist | wattpad

Sorting things out with Wanda made everything return to normal in no time. So much in fact that she decided I was worth inviting to her and her brother's birthday party.

Never in a million years did I expect the most popular girl in our grade to know who I was, let alone invite me to her birthday party, so to say I was surprised was an understatement.

"It's not a big deal if you can't make it," she said when she handed me the invitation in class. "I mean, I'd love it if you could, but yeah, no pressure."

I was in awe, accepting the invite and reading it quickly. It must have been a pretty expensive party if she was giving out special invites, that's for sure.

"You want me to come?" I asked, still unsure whether this was a joke or not.

"Only if you want to," she said quickly, eyes darting around the room and anywhere but at me. "Like I said, you don't have to. It's not a big deal and– I– yeah." She pressed her lips together and stopped rambling, offering me a small smile.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slotting the invite in my notebook. "I'll, er, I'll think about it."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and faced forward, nodding. "Yeah, sure, no rush."

After that awkward conversation, I discovered she'd also invited Y/BF/N, the two of them developing a little friendship the more she'd hung out with me. He didn't mind going, but only wanted to do so if I went.

"I feel like I kinda don't wanna go," I admitted to him after school as we were studying in the library.

"Oh?" He rose an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

I played with the pencil in my hand. "I don't know, it's just– it's gonna be full of all of her other friends. And they don't really like me. Plus, her dick of a boyfriend is gonna be there. I just think she might have invited me to be nice. Like she might have felt like she had to because we sit together, y'know?"

"I think you know that isn't true," he said knowingly. "Maybe, just maybe, she actually wants us there, wants you there, to celebrate her birthday."

I chewed the inside of my mouth, giving it some thought. But the idea of going to Wanda's house party and seeing a bunch of people I didn't care about getting pissed wasn't comforting. Besides, even if I went, I'd probably see Wanda once before she'd get scooped away by Nate. What was the point?

"Nah, I don't think I'm going," I decided. "She won't notice. I'll just get her a present instead."

Y/BF/N sighed, clearly not impressed with my answer. Nonetheless, he said, "Okay, suit yourself."

"You can go if you want," I added, knowing his presence wasn't linked with mine.

"No Y/N, no party," he said with a dismissive shrug, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Such a good friend," I said teasingly, but there was truth to my words. And I knew he knew that. 

When I saw photos and videos of Wanda and Pietro's party all over my social media the day after, I knew I'd made the right choice in not going. It was the same visuals of everyone getting drunk, doing stupid shit and making a mess. Call me a loser, but that wasn't really my scene. Pietro and Wanda both seemed to enjoy it though, judging from the pictures.

Instead, I bought her a birthday present, knowing I didn't have to but I kind of wanted to, and planned to give it to her when she turned up to class. It was her birthday today, despite throwing the party over the weekend, so I hoped it would make up for my absence (thought I doubted she noticed).

She showed up and settled beside me as I was writing the date in my notebook, making me look up to see she'd made an extra effort to dress up for her birthday, looking fancier than usual. I couldn't help but smile at the giant '18' birthday badge pinned to her jacket.

"Happy birthday, Wanda," was the first thing I said when I saw her. "You look amazing."

A bashful smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I hope your party went well," I said, giving her my full attention whilst trying not to drool over how beautiful she looked.

Surprisingly, her smile faded and her eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it did... could you not make it? I tried looking for you and– yeah..."

I opened my mouth to speak, admittedly a little embarrassed that she'd caught me out. I was sure she wouldn't notice – the pictures made it seem like there were loads of guests, I'd definitely have blended in if I were there – but clearly I was mistaken.

"I just thought–" she began, before shaking her head. "Never mind."

"Sorry, I thought–" I started, but like her, didn't know what to say. "Parties aren't my thing," I admitted truthfully. "But it looked fun. You enjoyed it, right?"

She nodded, a small forced smile on her lips. "Yeah, right. It's cool. No biggie."

I swallowed awkwardly. It seemed like a biggie and now I felt bad.

"I, er, got you a gift," I blurted, hoping to change the subject. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the terribly wrapped present and held it out nervously. "I hope you, er, like it."

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes flickered between the present and I. "Oh? You didn't have to. I wasn't expecting anything."

Was it hot in here or was it just me?

I pulled my collar away from my neck, hoping to circulate some air. "I wanted to. It's not a big deal."

She accepted the gift, fingers brushing mine and making me even more nervous, before opening it up. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she revealed a brand new leather paintbrush carry case.

"The one you always carry around is tattered and falling apart, so I thought I'd get you a new one," I explained, feeling like I had to. "I mean, unless the other one has some sort of sentimental value, then in that case, I can just return this."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" she exclaimed, looking to me with a grin. "It's beautiful, Y/N. I don't even know what else to say."

My shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile tugging at my lips. "Good. Th-that's good. I'm glad you like it."

Without warning, she moved forward off her stool and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I was startled, unable to think straight with her body pressed so close to mine and her floral perfume wafting into my nose. Why did she have to smell so good?

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling away but not quite letting go. Her eyes were glowing as they watched me carefully, accompanying her weak-in-the-knees smile. I was sure I'd melt. "It means a lot."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd say something stupid. I resisted the urge to look down at her lips, which were pulled into a small, appreciative smile. She let go of me, looking to the case again and unravelling it. I caught my breath meanwhile, my senses still on override as her perfume lingered.

She was just so damn beautiful.

—

"Okay, how about this – robotic or organic aliens. Which would you rather invade our planet?" Y/BF/N asked.

I chuckled at his question. "Definitely haven't thought about that one, but let's see..."

We were hanging in the bleachers out near the football field as we waited for football practice to end. Y/BF/N had a Film project to do and needed to film the field, so I offered to help like the good friend I was.

"Probably organic," I answered as I balanced on the bleachers, standing up and tiptoeing down them like steps. "At least we could reason with them if they tried to kill us because they'd have a conscience. Robotic aliens would just be programmed to take over and that's it."

Y/BF/N seemed against the idea as he played with his camera. "Yeah, but if they were robotic, all we'd have to do is launch a missile at them and they'd explode. You can break metal. It's harder to break organic matter."

I stifled a laugh. "You've given this much thought, I see."

He gave me a knowing look. "You telling me you don't think aliens exist?"

I stopped tiptoeing and stood still as I looked down at him with humoured eyes. "You know I know aliens exist."

He waved his hand like that was enough reasoning. "There you go then!"

I laughed, wondering how he thought of this stuff, then continued to balance as I walked down the bleachers. Probably the wrong choice as when I heard a voice call me, I looked up, saw it was Wanda, then proceeded to miss a step and fall onto my arse.

"Oh God, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, moving forward to help me.

My face heated up as Y/BF/N laughed his arse off beside me. I accepted Wanda's hand and let her pull me up, before letting go immediately when I could handle it myself. Her presence always made me nervous, but this was just terrible.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, glancing at her and freezing at her piercing gaze and suppressed smile.

"You sure?" she asked, glancing at Y/BF/N, before trying to hide her own laughter.

Fuck me, why was I such a mess whenever she was around?

"Very sure," I said, though my back began to ache from where I hit it. "What's up, anyway?"

Y/BF/N finally shut up, to my relief, and Wanda minimised her laughter before scratching her head.

"I'm waiting for practice to end so I can take Pietro home," she said, nodding to the field. "I saw you both sat here and thought I'd say hi. Are you guys watching practice?"

"Not really," I answered, before tilting my head to Y/BF/N. "We're just waiting for it to end so Y/BF/N can film for his project."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," she said, intrigued and looking to him now. "What's that about?"

As he caught her up on it, I found myself checking Wanda out without realising. She was animated as she listened to Y/BF/N talk about his assignment, eyes giving him all of her attention, and a permanent smile was fixed on her lips as she listened to him. Though it wasn't directed at me, I felt butterflies swirling a storm in my stomach and clutched it, hoping they'd go away. I loved and hated the feeling all at once.

Breaking me from my reverie, a football flew past all three of us and hit the bleachers, startling us all. We looked in the direction it came from and saw the football team looking back at us, some laughing and some disgruntled. Two players ran towards us and when they got close enough, I made them out as Pietro and Nate.

Nate was laughing as he looked between us all, before his gaze fell on me. "It's Y/N, right? I feel like I'm always throwing that thing at you. Sorry about that."

But his constant laughing and lack of guilt refuted his words. I merely clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes his way, not that he seemed to care nor notice. I was a mere fly in a world that revolved around him. He'd never notice.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't even know you were over here," he added, looking to Wanda. "You okay?"

Wanda crossed her arms and seemed frustrated. "I'm fine, Nate. Just get your ball."

He shrugged and grabbed his ball. Before leaving, he pressed a kiss to Wanda's cheek which made me wince, but she made no attempt in enjoying it. He didn't seem to care as he took off running back to his team. Pietro smiled apologetically at the three of us.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "He can be such a dick sometimes."

That was the understatement of the century.

With that, he turned and ran back to his team to finish up. Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as Y/BF/N and I exchanged glances.

"I should get the car running," she said awkwardly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and towards the car park. "Good luck with your assignment, Y/BF/N. And I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N."

Waving goodbye with an awkward smile, I watched her leave and wondered the same thing I always did whenever Nate decided to make an appearance in my life.

How could she be dating such a dick?

—

Apart from the birthday party I didn't go to, I'd never been invited (or had a reason to go) to Wanda's house. I'd seen it, rode my bike past it, but never actually been in it. So, when she invited me to her place to work on a project we'd been assigned in class, I was unsure how to feel. She was adamant though and I had no reason to say no, so the only thing left to do was say yes. Even when she offered to drive me there after school.

"This is your car?" I asked with disbelief.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars, but I wasn't blind. Hers was a gorgeous deep red colour with a convertible roof that was currently lowered so anyone in it would feel the sun on their back and wind in their hair.

"Yeah, you like it?" she asked as she got into the driver's seat.

I gulped and sat in the passenger's seat, throwing my backpack at my feet. "It's so nice. You sure you don't mind me drinking in this?"

I had a Pepsi bottle in my hand and was deathly afraid of opening it now in case I spilt it and the cleaning bill would be more than I made in a year at the pizza parlour.

She laughed, already pulling out of the car park. "Of course. Don't be silly."

I glanced in her direction, trying not to get distracted by how good she looked in the driver's seat. She was wearing a red leather jacket, funnily enough, matching the exterior of her car, and she had dark eyeliner around her eyes, accentuating the shape and colour of them and leaving me speechless whenever she looked my way.

"There's CDs in the glove compartment," she was saying as she focused on the road. "Or you can mess around with the radio. It's up to you."

"CDs?" I asked, it piquing my interest. I reached into the glove compartment, adding, "What is this, the 2000s?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, accepting my teasing, as I flicked through the small stack of albums.

"I don't know, I guess I just like having the physical version," she said with a shrug. "It's kind of like a collection."

I chuckled at her need to explain herself, watching the way she rubbed her neck nervously, smiling with embarrassment. Looking back to the albums, a particular one grabbed my attention and I plucked it out with raised brows.

"Oh my God, you like Paramore?" I asked, looking to her with surprise. "Now it's definitely the 2000s."

Her cheeks flushed as she grew flustered. I nudged her in the side gently, getting her attention briefly.

"I'm kidding," I reassured, tilting my head her way playfully. "I actually love Paramore. They're my favourite band."

"Really?" she asked with surprise as I put the CD in her car. I hummed in response, to which she continued, "Have you ever seen them live?"

As For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic played quietly in the background, I nodded my head. "Yeah, once. It was a few years ago, but the tickets were shitty and I could just about make them out on stage in the distance."

Wanda laughed, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "No, that's so sad!"

I chuckled in agreement. "Yeah. It was, but oh well. They have a tour coming up this summer, right? Maybe I can get better tickets this time 'round... what about you? Have you ever seen them live?"

She hummed, making a turn at some traffic lights and chewing her lower lip as she focused on doing so. It was definitely the wrong time, but I found myself admiring how attractive it was, especially when her jaw tensed and her defined jawline was on display.

"Yeah, I saw them a few times," she finally responded, pulling me from my stupor. "Some really good seats, some really shitty ones." She giggled at the end, making me smile. "Maybe we could go to that concert in the summer. If you're up for it?"

This seemed like one of those times where you made plans with a friend that you knew would never happen, so to not cause an awkwardness in the conversation, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, maybe."

She glanced at me and I mirrored her smile, the flash of excitement in her eyes knocking me breathless.

When we reached her house, I was awestruck at how big it was from the inside. I mean, it looked huge from the outside, but the inside was even better. Her family were rich, I knew that, but this was some other level of rich.

"Here, c'mon, I'll get you a drink, then we can go into the dining room to start," Wanda said, failing to recognise my amazement and instead leading me to the kitchen. "We have tropical juice, apple juice, water, Sprite, Cola... which d'you want?"

I settled at the island, taking a seat and subtly admiring her kitchen. "Er, apple juice is fine with me."

She smiled brightly before pouring me a glass, whilst pouring herself some Sprite. Standing opposite me, we both took a moment to have a drink, but didn't get chance to exchange words as her mum entered the room and noticed me instantly.

"Y/N, it's so lovely to see you again!" she said kindly, patting me on the shoulder before heading to the fridge. "You girls hanging out? Studying?"

"We have a project," Wanda filled in as I nodded in agreement. "We alright to claim the dining room?"

After grabbing some water from the fridge, Wanda's mum pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "Sure thing, sweetie. If you need anything, just let me know." Smiling once more at me, she said, "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"You too," I said with a friendly smile before she left.

"Come on," Wanda said, motioning for me to follow. "We have tons to do."

The next hour and a half was spent with Wanda and I planning out our project, our work sprawled along the dining table messily. We were making progress, until she got a call suddenly. It seemed serious as she gave me an apologetic glance and excused herself. I let her go and leaned back in my seat, wondering what I could do as I waited for her to return. That thought was resolved quite quickly when Pietro popped his head in the doorway and spotted me.

"Y/N! What an honour to welcome you to our humble abode," he exclaimed, entering the room fully. "What brings you here?"

Pietro's presence always brought an amused smile to my lips. "Wanda and I are working on a Chemistry project. She's just nipped out for a phone call."

He tutted dramatically, crossing his arms. "Well, well, well. We can't have that! Wanda needs to learn to entertain her guests. C'mon. I was about to head to the gaming room and could use the company."

I was visibly surprised. "You have a gaming room? Dude, that's awesome!"

He laughed. "C'mon."

Joining Pietro, the two of us headed to this so-called gaming room and I was not disappointed. There was a huge TV with a PlayStation and Nintendo Switch connected to it, a snooker table, a foosball table, a dart board, some old arcade games – it was amazing, any gamer's biggest dream.

"What you feeling, princess?" he said with that flirtatious smile of his.

I rolled my eyes playfully. He was being overtly flirty, more so than his sister was – was it a Maximoff personality trait or something? – and I wasn't sure whether he meant it or was just being his usual self.

"Are you flirting?" I deadpanned, tilting my head curiously. "I can't tell."

He pocketed his hands, swinging back on the heels of his feet. "That depends. Is it working?"

Despite my lack of interest in him like that, I felt my face heat up at the attention. "Pietro, I must tell you that any moves you attempt to make kind of won't work."

"And why's that?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the snooker table with a cheeky smile on his lips. "Am I not your type?"

"Unless you change into a girl, then no," I played along, making him flush with embarrassment. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm gay."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense," he mumbled to himself, before sighing and meeting my eyes. "We can still be friends, right? Or is that forbidden since you're already friends with my sister?"

I laughed and approached him. "Friends works. I don't think Wanda will care. I certainly don't."

He grinned. "Awesome! Well, d'you wanna play a round of foosball?"

"Sure," I said with an amused expression. "Bet I can kick your arse."

He pushed himself off the table and feigned surprise. "Oh? Game on, Y/L/N."

I didn't realise how long Wanda had been on the phone until I managed to get through three rounds of foosball and was in the middle of a snooker game with Pietro.

"You may have beat me at foosball, but you're terrible at this," he pointed out with stifled laughter.

I'd missed my third shot and it was more funny than it was embarrassing.

"Your talking distracts me," I said dismissively, before lining up the next shot with my cue.

He watched as I tried to take my shot before sighing loudly. I glanced at him with a quirked brow.

"You have a thought you'd like to share?" I asked playfully.

He hesitated, moving forward to correct my posture. "Look, if you just aim it like this–"

"Don't even think about it, Romeo," I said jokingly, standing up straight and pushing him away gently. "I know what you're thinking."

He laughed. "What? I was just going to help you aim!"

I gave him a knowing look. "So holding me close is just a bonus?"

"Fine, take your shot without my help and see what happens," he said dismissively, waving his hand.

"I'll do just that," I said with confidence, before bending down and taking my shot. The ball hit the other and neither were pocketed, which was an achievement as I'd got the cue ball in several times before, but still pretty shit as I didn't score any points.

Pietro smiled with satisfaction, leaning on his cue. "You happy with that?"

I held in a laugh as I looked to him. "Shut up."

He chuckled before bumping me out the way. "Now for the professional."

Bending down to take his shot, he pulled back his cue before hitting the balls. They rolled around on the table and one ball was about to go in, but I quickly grabbed it before he could get the point.

"Y/N!" he shouted between laughter. "That's cheating!"

"Technically we didn't establish rules," I pointed out, before moving backwards as he tried to grab it from my hand. "What do you say to calling it a draw and playing something else?"

"I say that's a childish way to admit you've lost," he responded, before moving forward quickly. I dodged his attempt and he pursed his lips. "Y/N."

"Pietro."

He smirked. "Seriously?"

I grinned.

He tried to grab it again and ended up chasing me around the room as I avoided giving in. Taking the piss out of Y/BF/N enough times had prepared me for moments like this, so I was able to avoid Pietro long enough to run into whoever walked through the door.

"Shit, Wanda, I'm sorry," I said between laughter, steadying both me and her.

She smiled with confusion, about to speak, but Pietro caught up to me and lifted me up, throwing me onto the couch before I could protest.

"No more cheating," he said sternly, as I lifted my head from the pile of cushions on the couch to look up at him.

"You're an arse," I said, pushing myself up off the couch.

"And you're a sore loser!"

We had a mini staring competition before the two of erupted into laughter.

"You're not half bad, Pietro," I complimented as he helped me up.

"Thank you, princess," he said, the flirtatious smile on his lips again.

I shoved him in the shoulder playfully before looking to Wanda, who was chewing on her lip as she looked between Pietro and I with an unreadable expression.

"So, what prompted you to leave Y/N alone for an hour?" Pietro asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, making me shove him away. He grinned at me before looking to Wanda.

"Nate called," Wanda responded carefully, arms crossed as she continued to look between us. God, I hoped she didn't think Pietro and I liked each other. That would be embarrassing.

Pietro scoffed from beside me, making Wanda sigh with annoyance.

"Don't start, Piet," she said and gave him a look which he seemed to understand.

By the sounds of it, Pietro didn't seem to like Wanda's dick of a boyfriend either. That was strange since wasn't impressing the brother the first part of being in a relationship with someone? And they were on the same football team, so I figured he'd at least tolerate him.

"Are we alright to get back to studying?" Wanda asked, directing her stare to me. The annoyance she held for Pietro was still present in her eyes and I suddenly felt nervous when she looked my way.

"Yeah, of course," I said, before giving Pietro a half-smile. "Rematch at snooker next time. Sound good?"

"Try to keep the balls on the table and we'll see," he teased, before nodding to Wanda. "You should get back to your project before Wanda kills us both with her deadly glare."

I smiled awkwardly, looking back to Wanda as she was indeed glaring at her brother. Clearly there was some sibling rivalry going on here, and I definitely didn't want to get in the middle of it, so I headed to Wanda, signalling I was ready to leave.

The two of us headed back to the dining room in an uncomfortable silence. I felt like I'd done something wrong and she was giving me the silent treatment which was strange. Then I figured it was probably something with Nate that made her annoyed, so didn't question it too much.

We sat back down and I looked at what we'd done so far to try and pick up where we left off, but then she spoke out of the blue, taking me by surprise.

"Do you like my brother?"

It was so abrupt that I took a moment to acknowledge it, blinking. "What?"

"Pietro," she clarified, saying it with such dismissiveness like it wasn't a big deal. Her attention was on the books before us as she continued, "Do you like him?"

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. "No, Wanda. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a great guy. But yeah, no, I don't like him like that."

She chewed her lip, nodding, but I swear I saw a hint of a smile on her lips. I hoped it wasn't the thought of Pietro and I that made her annoyed. I wasn't that bad, was I? I know she cared about her brother and was probably overprotective, but me being his girlfriend couldn't have been that bad, right?

We got back to work in no time, getting a lot done. I didn't realise how late it was getting until Wanda's mum poked her head in, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner.

"Dinner?" I asked, eyebrows raising with surprise. I checked my watch and realised how long I'd been here. "Damn, maybe I should head back."

"Nonsense, you must stay," her mum insisted. "Y/M/N won't mind. A daughter of hers is a daughter of mine."

"You can even sleepover if you want," Wanda offered, and I almost choked on my own spit. "It's getting pretty late."

I shook my head, forcing a small smile so they wouldn't get offended. "Honestly, it's fine. I can head back."

"Please?" Wanda asked with a hopeful expression. "It's the least I can do. I kinda wasted your time for an hour earlier..."

"I should ask my mum," I said, chewing on the inside of my mouth.

"Oh, I'll ring and let her know," Wanda's mum said breezily, before looking to Wanda. "D'you think you can clear your things up? Your brother is gonna set the table."

"Sure, mum." Wanda smiled her way as she left, before looking to me. "I've got clothes and a spare toothbrush you can use tonight."

I smiled awkwardly, nodding. Sleeping over at my crush's house wasn't how I thought I'd be spending my Wednesday evening, yet here we were.

[hqprotectionsquad]

Sunlight (Kunimi x Reader)

Title: Sunlight Ship: Kunimi x Reader Word Count: 1,568 Summary: Kunimi takes you home after he is dragged on a double date with Oikawa and his crush.  A/N: cross posted from my Wattpad!

Kunimi leans into the desk chair, scanning the classroom. Deep breath in, deep breath out. No need for anyone to see that he is having an internal breakdown. His face is stone-cold, with his eyes as dull as usual, but his head is clattered with memories and thoughts, and most importantly, a realization that shook his form in the first place: he developed feelings for you.

For him, this is huge. He hasn't had a crush since junior high, and even then, he found the idea of a prospering relationship too much to handle. Now, while his perspective toward romance has matured, he wants his feelings to be like milk, spoiled once exposed to the elements. He just needs a few reasons to create a barrier between his brain and his heart. Maybe you have a bad habit of dog-earring your pages or you chew too loud or you tend to speak on the sarcastic side. Something. Anything.

Volleyball practice arrives and Kunimi pinpoints the original source of the "problem," as he wants to call this thing that's taken over his mind. This man with perfectly styled hair is ultimately the reason why you and your best friend even come to the volleyball games and while it isn't as hard to talk to Ritsuko, you are a little more difficult, only because Kunimi can't look at you in the eyes. Oikawa approaches Kunimi at the end of practice, glowing and glistening instead of appearing sweaty like everyone else. "Kunimi-chan, will you be meeting up with me, (L/N)-chan, and Ri-chan after we finish here today? I could use a friend to help me seal the deal with Ri-chan and she'll only come if (L/N)-chan comes."

Kunimi slings the towel around the crook of his elbow but all he really wants to do with the sweat-sopped thing is throw it into Oikawa's face. Is he really indirectly pushing the limits to his brain? Oikawa wouldn't know anything about it but Kunimi has nothing to do today and his mom is always nagging him to spend time with his friends instead of reading inside or peppering a volleyball by himself. Kunimi replies coolly, "Sure. What are we doing?"

"Cafe study date, of course!" Oikawa sips from his water bottle, but the corner of his lips form a grin. "I hope we do more talking than studying but you never know. Ri-chan and (Y/N)-chan are so studious sometimes."

"I see." Kunimi nods and gathers his things. "I'll meet you in twenty."

"Okay!" Oikawa's thumb and index finger meet to make a circle. "Say hi to them if you see them before I do! They'll be stopping by the gym. See you!"

Once Kunimi gets into the shower, he does everything he can to prevent himself from banging his head against the tiled wall. The water from the shower head rolls onto his body, then off into the drain. Why did he even agree to this? He is just going to shut off, like the robot everyone says he is. This is a mistake.

"Do you understand what they're talking about?" You lean over to whisper in Kunimi's ear. He shakes his head with a frown in response.

Across the table, your best friend and Oikawa are discussing what seems to be school but also flirting with every other word. You didn't think that was possible up until that moment. Ri-chan always goes for the studious kind, which is kind of the reason why you were so skeptical when she asked you to accompany her to this study session. Oikawa never struck you as the smart guy, but here you were, proven wrong, apparently. Kunimi, on the other hand, is quiet, but it appears that he cares a lot about his grades because he actually is studying for an exam he has next week, according to him.

"What are you working on?" You nudge Kunimi's elbow with yours and at first, it looks like he's about to lash out at you. You scoot into the back of your chair, folding your arms. He doesn't seem invested in his work and he sets his pencil to the side.

"A math assignment." His voice is everything but a murmur. "What are you working on, (L/N)-chan?" Your name doesn't roll off as easy as you thought it would, and you can't help but to wonder if his would sound weird in your mouth too.

"An essay for Japanese literature. I don't really understand it though." Your lips form a thin line before you force yourself to take a sip from your latte. If you were going to spend nearly 600 yen on a drink, you needed to finish it.

"I see." Kunimi nodded and looked outside the window, no longer paying attention to you. You know that he's not an outgoing person, but with Ri-chan and Oikawa doing all sorts of things across the table, you wish you had a more receptive person to the left of you.

Ri-chan pushes herself out of the table with her eyes wide open. "Ah! I need to go pick up Haru-kun!" Her brother, only five, gets picked up. You remember meeting him for the first time and you understand why Ri-chan goes out of her way for her sibling. He is one of the shiest things on this earth.

"Let me come with you, Ri-chan! So that you won't have to go alone." Oikawa suggests with his million-yen smile and she graciously accepts.

"I apologize, Kunimi-san and (Y/N)," Ri-chan's words come out fast and muddled. They bow to the both of you before taking their leave. The bell at the top of the door resounds in your ears over and over. Did that just really happen? You ask yourself. You glance over to Kunimi's expression and it seems that he reacted similarly.

"Er, I suppose I should take you home then." Kunimi offers after noticing your cup drew empty a while ago.

"Yeah, there isn't much point to staying after they've left anyway." You shrug, placing your notebook and pencils back into your school bag. After zipping up and thanking the server for the food and beverages, you motion for him to lead the way out.

He does and he barely looks at you before heading off into a direction. "Kunimi, my house is the other way," you pant after needing to run after him. He isn't necessarily fast, but he is persistent.

"Oh. Okay." To you, it looks like Kunimi is one to only work, but you know from watching him over the year you've known of him that he doesn't even work sometimes. What is the turmoil behind his eyes? What is he thinking about?

This time, you lead the way but you make sure you stand next to him. Now that you're side by side, you need to roll your eyes up to your eyebrows to properly have a look at him. Soft threads of hair, a fit and capable body, but saddest of all, his eyes evoke stirring into your heart. When was the last time someone really got to know him?

"Kunimi-san, if you don't mind me asking," you begin as your scenery changes from the hustle of the city center to the suburbs where most people live. "Do you have friends from outside of the volleyball team?"

"Not really," he replies.

"Why not?"

"I don't go out of my way to make new friends." It is simple and the truth, but it stings your eyes.

"Right." You nod, pushing down the stone in your throat. "Have you ever wanted to become friends with other people?"

"I guess," he mutters as you turn a corner and he follows suit, shoving his hands in his front pockets. "It doesn't really matter to me whether or not I have friends."

"Isn't it a little lonely though?" You prod more, seeing if he'll say anything or do anything. You can't really imagine yourself going further out of your current friend group either, but your group is diverse in all the activities you do. No one person shares all the same ones, which makes conversations exciting.

"Sometimes."

His words trail into a deafening silence. You walk for what you believe is hours and you continue toward your home. The next time he looks at you is when you arrive at the gate of your family home. It is modest, but it is perfect for a family like yours.

"Thank you for bringing me home." You smile as you fish for your keys in your bag, holding out the strap with one hand.

"You're welcome, (L/N)-san." His grin is a ghost, only seen for a second, but you catch it.

"You have a nice smile," you comment softly and shake your head. He isn't looking for new friends, you remind yourself. Your voice raises in dynamics when you say, "So! How far away do you live from here?"

"Maybe...20 minutes." He scratches his head with one of his fingers.

"You should've told me! Your house is far from here!" You go as far as slapping him lightly on the arm, but he doesn't really react.

"It's okay. I wanted to." His small smile returns. The sun streams through the tree on the sidewalk and when it hits Kunimi, it washes over his features with a soft glow. No longer does he look dull, he shines brighter than ever.

[sharpestsatire]

intj-conversations:

DISCLAIMER: All of this is subjective, obviously.

ISTP: -Stop pretending you’re an aloof ninja. You’re just a nerd. Calm down. -Okay I know you want to learn how to throw and spin knives and that is a-okay, just don’t point it at me, seriously. -STOP PRETENDING YOU DON’T HAVE EMOTIONS. What’s up with you and not wanting to admit that you feel things? It’s not a bad thing! -Such nerds. succchhh nerds. -Remember to do that thing that’s due tomorrow NOW, bc I know you’ll do it in 2 minutes before class tomorrow. -keep track of time. Why are you so bad at this? -Yes, what you said offended that person. Yes, they will probably accept your apology. -You make so many noises -Maybe make more facial expressions? You look like you want to kill someone when you’re not doing anything. But I can totally relate. Others might not get it though, so try to be a bit more expressive.

INTJ: -Stop being an asshole. -literally no one asked you to make everything a metaphor for suffering. -you are NOT the nicest person I know. Don’t delude yourself. You may be understanding, but niceness is usually measured by external things, like compassion and emotion. Which you basically NEVER express. -why do u make so many puns -??? You speak perfectly. I don’t know how. #NotAllINTJs -yes, you’re charismatic, but it’s in an awkward way. You aren’t “the suave master”, you’re just the cute nerd. Got it? -next time you repeatedly ask me the same question I will throw you off a cliff

ISTJ: -how do you do so many things? I don’t have that energy. -also, stop reading Wattpad instead of studying. You know that your grades matter more to you. -don’t be afraid to speak your opinion just because other people won’t accept it or because you think it may disrupt the balance. Most things need to be verbalized. -I DON’T GET WHY PEOPLE ARE SO IGNORANT EITHER. What’s up with that???? -sometimes perspectives need to shift and things just arent a useful supply of information anymore. -get some sleep. -grades don’t mean everything just because you were told they always mean everything. -my cute timid sunflowers 💕

INFP: -you’ll never be happy if you don’t pursue something you love. It doesn’t matter if someone doesn’t want you to. You matter most, in your world. Okay? -worry about yourself more -if you’re so worried about being organized, organize yourself. I’ll help you. It only takes 2 weeks to develop a habit, after all. -DO. NOT. DATE. MANIPULATIVE. PEOPLE! Why??? Bbg! You always love the underdogs, but sometimes the underdogs are literal psychopaths! That is not healthy! You don’t need that kind of manipulation. Use some reasoning! -you guys have so much creativity. Express it! People love that shit, trust me. I know I do. -go on adventures if you want to! Might as well, yeah? It’s not going to HURT if you take a hike and draw some trees. Philosophize. It’s what makes self-realization.

ENFP: -how. So much. So much energy. Why do you always want to go to the mall or to a party? -no, i dont want to go anywhere, and no, it’s not because I’m being lazy. -we should build a shed. You can keep your various stray animals there. -why. Why are you so dependent. You don’t need to talk to your boyfriend for every minute of everyday AND update him on your status every hour. -stop making so many “fake” friends. Just because someone compliments your shirt doesn’t mean they aren’t going to be a terrible person. -it’s just project-project-project with you, isnt it? You don’t even finish 1/3rd of them. …i’ll still help you, though.

INFJ: -sweetheart -you don’t need to base your being on making others feel better. Or on making yourself fit into a ridiculously ideal image. People like you imagine just don’t exist. -pretentious w books -many pretentious books -also a weeb. It goes hand-in-hand. -find a good outlet to express your emotions. -don’t look at the floor all the time, just because you don’t want to meet anyone’s gaze or because you want to think. Look ahead. Show some confidence, darling. You could take the world if you wanted to. -if you don’t want life to be meaningless, find your meaning. Pursue it.

ESTJ: -you would be cool, if you didnt have such a bias towards things you don’t even know you HAVE A BIAS towards. Yes, that’s biased. Oooh, how do I know? Let me explain. -what society taught you isnt always what you will believe. You need to stop deluding yourself. -stop giving TEXT-BOOK DEFINITIONS -i gotta admit your logic is pretty solid but your BIASES, oh the biases. -why do u have a literal army of followers

ENFJ: *sorry! I hate the two ENFJs i know. They’re underdeveloped.* -you make me cry. Feelings aren’t to be used in logic-fueled arguments. Don’t think they are facts. -i dont like you for reasons. Those reasons not being “oh did i offend you”, like??? Who you trying to fight here, me, or your suppressed emotional biases?? -the amount of people who like you doesn’t equal your value! What were you thinking? -speaking of thinking: you should THINK a lot more! Please? Think something through before you ask me an emotionally-barbed question.

INTP: -my little fluster nerds -always developing new things -I always happen to get into a love-hate relationship with you; because I regard you with fascination and you feel like you’re being studied (you are, btw), and you hate feeling like you’re under a microscope. It’s okay, ill keep teasing you. Your reactions are so adorable! -inf Fe is so cute. The responses to the stimuli. Ugh. I wanna hug you and tell you how adorable. How puppy. -nah, nah! I don’t hate you. I’d never hate you. You’re just so INTERESTING. Tell me all about your conspiracy theories! You’re making a language? Ooh, can you teach it to me? That’s so cool! Let me contribute my ideas, too! -YES, let’s build a sculpture. YES, let’s make english more efficient. Have you heard of that meme?-yeah, that one! -every conversation is like a make-a-story with the contributions from both sides. -TEAM CRINGE when people make logical fallacies

ENTP: -high quality memers. -most of the people I’ve had crushes on are ENTPs, un-miraculously. -i could listen to you make up sarcastic stories for hours and never get bored -TEAM USELESS FACTS that no one will ever use but you still have because of Wikipedia searches. -you are hilarious. And also, very cute when flustered. Less-so than INTP, but that’s only because they only ever wanna talk about history or chemistry or their poison of choice. You will actually talk to people. -you all have a distinct walk. It’s so odd. It’s a pattern I’m seeing, though.

notes to the types, from an INTJ.

[jilliancares]

Cat and Mouse: Chapter 5

Word Count: 4k

tw: injury and blood

ao3 ; wattpad

masterlist ; next chapter

CHAPTER FIVE: 

Dan wanted to break something. Or kill somebody. Or blow something up.

All he knew was that he was full of this horrible, restless energy, and it was Phil Lester’s fault. In the span of five minutes, Dan felt like his entire world had been flipped, his reality now resting on the edge of a coin. It just didn’t make sense.

Sure he’d known, when he was ten, that Phil was moving to London. He’d even known as he himself was moving to London that it was likely his childhood friend still lived somewhere in the city. The knowledge hadn’t done anything to deter him, nor to encourage him. He’d just acknowledged it, and then set it aside, uncaring. Where Phil Lester lived was no care of his—except for now, now that the man himself had come up and invited Dan for coffee.

As a little kid, Dan had had a massive crush on Phil. The kind of crush that came with butterflies in your stomach and pink dusting your cheeks, with sweaty palms and stuttered words and embarrassing truths. He’d gone as far as to keep a diary, simply so he could tell something about how he felt.

But that had been then. That had been his ten year old self, full of completely different ambitions and dreams. This was now. And twenty-two year-old Dan didn’t need to go on a date with his childhood crush—twenty-two year-old Dan needed to not talk to anyone ever, preferably. It made the whole not caring about things much easier. Made the ignoring his underlying morals and turning a blind eye at the inklings of guilt he felt much more feasible.

Not to mention the fact that talking to people made him anxious. Not in the general, anxiety-disorder kind of anxious—though Dan had had that too. It’d taken a long and annoying amount of time for him to stop sweating and shaking at the thought of asking a barista for a coffee (not talking for several years, it turned out, could carry lasting effects). But no, this wasn’t like that. Especially not with Phil—the first person Dan was able to speak around after his period of selective mutism. This was different. This was anxious in the way that his mind whirled, wondering if talking to Phil, to a person who had known him then, could see a difference in him now.

Being the Panther was his biggest secret. It was the secret of all secrets, the type you tried to carry to your grave, though Dan was aware that it rarely happened like that for the bad guys in the movies—they almost always got caught.  But still, he didn’t feel inclined to let anyone know that he was the Panther, the person terrorizing the city and causing chaos and uproar at every available opportunity. That knowledge was solely for him to enjoy.

Dan shivered at the thought of Phil finding out about about him. Sweet, smart Phil. He remembered him from sixth grade, two years his senior but about level with him in terms of intelligence, which had been one thing that had drawn Dan to him immediately. It’d been rare for him to find someone who could match his brain, his thought processes, and Phil hadn’t just matched it; he’d aided it. They’d worked as a wonderful team—most of the time, anyway. There’d, of course, been those moments when Dan had sulked and ignored Phil for days on end. But when he wasn’t avoiding Phil, they were working together like Batman and Robin, like Sherlock and Watson, like two meant to be a team if there ever was one. And then Phil had moved. And Dan had become the Panther (not immediately, of course. There’d been a bit of a transitional period, but still).

It was odd, to think that while Dan was out terrorizing the city, Phil was one of its inhabitants, likely cowering in his apartment and hoping that Dan didn’t blow up his complex. Not that Dan ever would. He only blew up things that needed to be blown up, obviously. Some people had recognized this, too. There were those out there who advocated for the Panther, who Dan regarded with a mixture of perverse satisfaction and unease, because really, who would be advocating for him? The bad guy?

He wasn’t sure if reconnecting with Phil was a good idea. His best bet would be to go out for this coffee with him, consume his caffeinated drink as quickly as humanly possible, and disappear back into the shadows forever and lose touch with Phil once more to safely resume his practices as the Panther. He couldn’t afford to be close to someone, after all. He had no interest in having to plan his more nefarious activities around the plans of another living, demanding person.

“I know this really neat little coffee place just around the corner,” Phil said conversationally. As they walked, their shoulders accidentally bumped. Dan flinched, but Phil didn’t appear to notice. “It’s actually the perfect location if you think about it. You can get a book from the library and then read it there.”

“Do you go to the library a lot?” Dan asked quietly. It felt weird to speak without wearing his mask. He spoke a lot as the Panther. He held long, winding, taunting conversations with the Raven, and he persuaded citizens and yelled at police. But without his mask, as a simple young adult, he rarely spoke. He spent the majority of his time in his apartment scheming and planning, and otherwise tended to hang out in the library, consuming books by the dozen. Though he’d taunted the Raven about harming the library, he never would've actually done so. The fact that so many could convene there and gather knowledge for absolutely no cost at all seemed incredible to him. Today Dan had only stolen a book, a mental fuck you to the Raven, if you will.

“Not really,” Phil answered, sounding almost abashed. “I don’t really read much—don’t have time. Today was kind of a fluke. I was just curious if… someone else… would be there.”

Dan hummed. “Who were you looking for?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil said, turning to look at him with a soft smile. “‘Cause I found you instead.”

The effect of those words on Dan was immediate. Blood rose to his cheeks, and Dan found himself having to avert his gaze. “Doesn’t seem like a very good trade off to me,” he laughed.

“Trust me, it was,” Phil promised. “That other guy’s a bit of a dick.”

“Can’t imagine why you’d be meeting him then,” said Dan, and Phil grinned.

“I have so much I want to tell you,” he said reverently. They were waiting at a crosswalk now, people gathered all around them. The white signal flashed, and they stepped into the street with everyone else.

“Oh really?”

“Of course,” Phil breathed. “I wish it hadn’t been so long. It’s crazy���I almost feel like I’m dreaming.”

Despite himself, Dan wasn’t dreading every word Phil said, wasn’t finding him annoying or wishing he was gone. He was—dare he think it—enjoying himself. It was absurd and ruinous, but he couldn’t help what he felt.

He also couldn’t help noticing the fact that, as an adult, Phil was incredibly attractive. In Dan’s fuzzy recollection, he was tall (taller than Dan, anyway), scrawny, and wore glasses almost too big for his face which insisted on sliding down to the end of his nose, resulting in Phil constantly shoving them back up again.

Now, Phil was still taller than Dan, except he was much taller. He’d grown like a weed, meanwhile Dan had stopped growing in the eighth grade. He was bigger in general too—broader and stronger looking. He had well defined muscles everywhere Dan could see; he must work out a lot. Dan knew he wouldn’t be in the shape he was if he weren’t constantly running all over the place in costume.

“You’ve stopped wearing your glasses,” Dan observed, having been studying Phil out of the corner of his eye.

“I have,” Phil responded. “Most of the time, anyway. I still have my glasses somewhere in my flat if I want to wear them.”

“I liked your glasses,” Dan admitted. “They made you look smart.”

“And now I look dumb?” Phil joked. Dan was quick to share a grin with him. It was scary, how natural this felt, how familiar. He’d heard about friends not seeing each other for years and years, until they were reunited and clicked just like two puzzle pieces, but he never would’ve expected that for himself and Phil. To think that all this time he’d thought that, given enough time, he and Phil would’ve drifted apart anyway, when now it was seeming exactly the opposite. Perhaps they would’ve grown closer. Way closer.

“Totally,” Dan giggled.

“I missed you,” Phil said, some minutes later. He bumped his shoulder into Dan’s.

Loathe as I am to admit it, I did too, Dan thought as he smiled at his friend. His friend.

—

Dan rushed up the steps to his shabby flat, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as he unlocked the door with the other. He kicked off his shoes once he was inside, slamming the front door behind him and sliding down the halls in socked feet to get to his bedroom. There, he stripped completely and struggled into his latex, protective suit and threw his clothes to the floor.

He had plans for tonight. He’d already persuaded a few people ahead of time, and if he didn’t hurry he wouldn’t be there when everything came to light. It wasn’t his fault, of course—it was bloody Phil Lester’s!

Phil, with his charming smile and bright eyes and deep laugh. Phil, with his “oh, you have to leave already?”s and his “I could buy you another coffee…?” Phil, with the small, stupid, adorable cheer he’d done when Dan agreed for “just one more” three separate times.

Dan was running late. And the Panther never ran late—the Panther was punctual; always on time and always ready to do something menacing.

Huffing, Dan ran a hand threw his hair and stepped in front of the mirror. It was already getting dark outside, so he put in his cat-eye contacts, blinking as his eyes adjusted, becoming ten times sharper. Colors looked weird and different, but once he was outside, in the night, he would be seeing better than anybody else. Next he slid on his cat-ears, shaking his head as his hearing suddenly sharpened. Putting on the ears felt like stepping out of a fog, one where everything was strangely muffled.

Hurrying now, Dan secured a small chip inside his mouth behind one of his molars. It was impossible to feel or detect in any way, but to anyone listening to him, his voice would appear different to how it naturally sounded, which was all that mattered.

Lastly, Dan settled his mask onto his face. It gripped his skin with minuscule gripping fibers that wouldn’t release until Dan pulled his mask off at exactly the right angle—kind of like a magic trick he’d once seen as a kid, where a man had put a box down on the ground, asked an audience member to lift it, and then laughed when the volunteer was unable to do so.

Suitably costumed, Dan rushed through his house, glancing at his watch and cursing under his breath at the time. It was five past eight, and he was supposed to be on the way side of town in about ten minutes, which wouldn’t be the easiest feat to manage. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Dan decided that he would have to take a taxi.

With a surreptitious glance out of his apartment door, he hurried up the stairs and continued through the building until he was on the roof. There were few people that lived in the same complex as him, and for some extremely odd reason, Dan was sure, they’d all decided to purchase the apartments below Dan.

Once on the roof, Dan jumped to another, and another, until he was a good few buildings away from his home and was climbing swiftly down a brick wall into an alley. Outside of it he could see several people bustling by, who didn’t notice him as he slunk through the shadows.

One girl, who looked a few years younger than Dan, had her arm raised to hail a taxi. Dan leaned back and waited. He had eight minutes left.

It took thirty seconds for a taxi to pull over for the young, pretty girl, and that’s when Dan struck. He sprinted out of the alley, shoved her out of the way, and dived into the taxi.

“Drive,” Dan commanded. “Take me to West 22nd Street, and make it fast.” The man was staring at him in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide with fear. Dan sneered at him. “Or i’ll make you regret it.”

With that, the man was speeding off into the traffic, the girl left on the sidewalk watching with wide eyes. As Dan watched, her figure shrinking as they drove farther away, she pulled out her cell phone and raised it to her ear.

Good, Dan thought, uncaring. Let the police come—I’ll give them a show.

The taxi driver didn’t make small talk with him as he drove, which Dan thought was a definite plus. He’d always hated that, and it made him feel uncomfortable more than anything else. Dan peered anxiously out the window at the passing buildings. They were already almost there, thanks to the man’s fear propelling them so quickly. He was weaving between cars recklessly, running red lights and passing people even when the road didn’t call for passing. Dan was pleased—he was in a hurry, after all.

It was soon apparent that Dan was also careless. He was still staring out the window anxiously, thinking that they just might make it in time to his destination. They were almost there now, and he still had three minutes to spare.

It was only thanks to Dan’s enhanced hearing that he was still alive. He heard the small click, and his head snapped around immediately, staring down the barrel of the gun as it was pointed at his face mere milliseconds before the man pulled the trigger.

Adrenaline shot through Dan’s body, making his blood thunder past his ears. Instead of disarming the man, or slapping the gun away, Dan’s arm struck out without thinking, smacking the gun downward. And then he heard the bang, and the very next second felt it—splitting through his thigh. Pain erupted from the wound, as did blood, and Dan growled.

“Fuck!” he spat, shaking his head to clear it of the hurt. He didn’t have /time/ for this! Normally, his suit would have repelled a bullet, but not even a bullet vest could defend against one fired at this range.

Angered, Dan lunged forward and slammed the man’s head into his steering wheel. He then jumped out of the car, still slowly rolling forward, and sprinted around the last corner to his destination.

His thigh throbbed with every step, but he ignored it as best he could. His suit was designed to hold tight to his skin, even after an injury, so hopefully that was doing enough to keep him from bleeding freely.

Dan only had a minute to spare, and in the distance he could hear police sirens. They were calling his name, Dan was sure.

With no time to waste, he scurried up the side of the building, eroded stone crumbling and falling beneath his fingers. It didn’t take him long to reach the roof, but by the time he did, he was breathless, bleeding, and in pain. Luckily, his subjects were already there.

“Oh good,” Dan panted. “You’re here.” He took a step forward, eyes roving over their expressionless faces.

“Hold it,” a familiar voice snapped. Annoyance flared through Dan, which wasn’t his usual reaction to hearing the Raven. He guessed it made sense, though. Here he was, running late and bleeding, and he hadn’t even gotten to cause any trouble yet.

“Now’s really not the best time, Raven,” Dan informed, twisting to look at him. The Raven rolled his eyes. Dan could hear the sirens growing closer.

He’d been planning a good, elaborate speech, but it was starting to look like he wasn’t going to have time for that. “Fine!” Dan snapped, now staring at his three subjects. “Just—go. Do it now.”

“Yes sir,” they answered in unison, and then they were sprinting towards the edge of the roof.

“Fuck!” Raven hissed, and he sprinted forward after them. His cape wings shot out, and he flew towards the end of the roof, gathering speed. Wind buffeted Dan as he passed, and the Raven managed to grab two of the three subjects and restrain them—two, but not all.

Dan allowed himself a small smile as the remaining man jumped, plummeting off the edge of the roof.

“No!” the Raven cried. He jumped off after him, still carrying the two other men in his arms.

Given a moment to breathe, Dan hunched over, clenching his eyes shut. His leg was really, really throbbing now, and he was starting to suspect that that driver had hit bone. He wouldn’t be able to go to the hospital, of course—doctors and nurses everywhere would be on the lookout for injuries that matched the taxi driver’s description—and so he’d have to do something about it himself.

Despairingly, Dan realized that his suit wasn’t exactly performing its job very well either. Blood was steadily pouring down his leg, and when he tried to press down on it, to staunch the flow, he couldn’t maintain the pressure. It hurt too much.

Luckily, the Raven likely wouldn’t be able to see the puddle of blood forming beneath Dan and wouldn’t be able to sense his weakness because of it.

The sirens reached a crescendo, and Dan sat down on the edge of the roof, wincing, to watch everything unfold. Police piled out of their cars, looking all around and scanning the rooftops, Dan’s signature place to be seen. He must’ve been well tucked into the shadows, however, as their gazes slid right past him.

The Raven emerged from the alley way, then, his arms still secure around two of the men, the third one trailing slowly after him, looking lost. Dan grinned.

“It’s the Raven!” one of the policemen cried, and Dan heard a mix or reactions, even from several stories up. Generally, people were delighted and relieved that the Raven was there to help, but there were the few that grumbled under their breath of the stupid, attention-stealing, unneeded hero. Dan didn’t think the Raven was unneeded—he thought he was the only match for him.

“You’ve done it!” another policeman cheered. Raven stopped, surprised, and glanced at the men he held.

“I have?”

“You’ve caught the Panther’s accomplices!” the officer exclaimed. “How’d you do it?”

Raven looked bewildered, and rightfully so. None of these men were Dan’s accomplices, and none were wanted criminals either, which was exactly what all these officers thought. See, Dan had snuck into the sheriff’s department not too many days ago and told just a few of the right higher-ups that these three men were extremely wanted subjects, so high profile that their faces couldn’t be projected on the news, couldn’t be shown to the general public. Now, the entire police force, as was apparent, knew their names, their faces. And the Raven had captured them himself.

“I’m not sure…” the Raven was saying quietly, but the officers were already hustling forward and handcuffing the three confused men. This would keep the Raven busy a while. It wouldn’t take him long, wouldn’t take him much investigation, to realize that these men were innocent. And then he’d have to convince the head of the police department of that fact, because there was no way he would let three innocent men rot away in their cells. And while the Raven was so wrapped up in that, Dan would be using his free-time to devise his biggest plan yet.

Deciding that he’d seen enough, that his plans were already rolling smoothly, Dan got stiffly to his feet. His head gave a sudden throb at the quick motion and his stomach lurched. Dan stumbled forward, and for a sickening moment, he feared he might accidentally pitch himself off the roof.

Just in time, Dan regained his balance and scrambled backward. He had to get out of there—had to return to his apartment, had to find the right serums.

Limping worse with every step, Dan walked and then ran towards the edge of the building, leaping from one roof to the next. When he landed, pain shot up his leg, jarring him and making him unable to hold back a hiss, emitted between clenched teeth. He whimpered as he stepped then, doing his best to hold back gasps and whines as his leg pained with every step, seeming to spread up and down his body.

Belatedly, Dan wondered if that bullet had been a normal bullet, or if it’d been coated in some kind of poison. Some people were known to do that, to ensure that their victims died even if their shot hadn’t hit a vital place.

Now, fear was twisting in his stomach like snakes as he tried desperately to pick up his pace, to get back home.

Apparently things weren’t looking up for him. The sound of footsteps exploded into existence on the roof behind him, and Dan groaned, realizing it was the Raven. He was likely here to demand to know what Dan had done and how he’d done it, and then, of course, he’d try to capture Dan. But now he really wasn’t in the mood.

Not wanting to be captured, Dan forced himself to run again, ignoring the hot tears that gathered in his eyes due to the pain. He jumped again, and despite being aware of the Raven behind him, hearing and seeing his every movement, Dan cried out. And then he stumbled forward again, running and running and running.

“I’ll catch you, Panther!” Raven cajoled, and Dan shook his head feverishly. Never before had he felt like he might actually be defeated, but now things were beginning to look really, truly grim.

Dan jumped again. Perhaps though, his body and mind couldn’t stand the thought of landing on his leg a third time, as he jumped short. He slammed into the wall of the next building, his thigh colliding with the wall and hurting even more than it had with every previous jump. Sobbing, Dan scrambled to hold onto the ledge, though his fingers were sweaty and bloody and he could feel himself slipping.

The Raven landed mere inches before his fingers, and he grinned down at Dan triumphantly.

“Give me one reason not to step on your fingers,” he demanded, his arms crossed victoriously. If he were in less pain, had lost less blood, Dan might’ve said something about the Raven’s morals, about how he was the hero. But Dan couldn’t. He could barely concentrate on anything, his entire mind pinpointed to the tips of his fingers, barely holding the rest of him up. His arms were shaking.

His gear was designed to make him land on his feet, yes, but right now his pantleg was ripped from the bullet, and Dan wasn’t sure if that would affect its functioning. Not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure he would pass out from the pain if he landed on his feet from this height, his leg still hindered. No, falling was not an option.

Neither is not falling, seemed to whisper his fingers.

“Falling,” Dan whispered, delirious. The Raven squinted.

“What?”

Dan closed his eyes, feeling his fingers slipping, slipping, slipping. The pain was too great, the struggle too much. He simply couldn’t anymore.

“Falling,” Dan repeated.

And then he fell.

~~

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