#ALSO CLUTCH?? FUCKING GOOD ASS VILLAIN RIGHT THERE HE'S SO SCARY

[wereh0gz]

Ok so now that I've read issue 71 in full I can now confidently say

New issue good

[shurisneakers]

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time).  big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights​ for this specific imagery 

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado. 

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right. 

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch. 

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation. 

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

evilkneival123@gmail.com just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song. 

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.  

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries. 

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

__

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons. 

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him. 

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough. 

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second. 

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?” 

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red. 

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles. 

A small smirk makes its way onto your face. 

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there. 

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them. 

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground. 

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder. 

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats. 

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand. 

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.  

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under. 

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place.  He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it. 

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt. 

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then. 

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower. 

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place. 

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them. 

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.” 

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine. 

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack. 

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door. 

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind. 

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel. 

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited. 

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist. 

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest. 

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.” 

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment. 

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind. 

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.” 

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing. 

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly. 

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this. 

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, ���she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

[morgana-ren]

Imagine being at a Halloween party thrown by Dabi and someone in a Leatherface costume keeps following you. It turns out to be Shigaraki. You comment on how his human skin mask is cool and how it looks so real, and oddly looks like Bakugo's face. He laughs, tosses it away and leads you to a field of pumpkins, where he non cons you, while Spooky Scary Skeletons plays in the background.

Okay listen, I know this was probably sent in 200 percent as a joke, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to sit down for an hour and make it work. It’s been a weird week. I can make weird work. 

Like imagine kinda knowing Dabi before the league goes super big. You don’t know too much about him, but he’s a friend of a friend and so on and he’s got the dangerous bad boy appeal alongside those haunting blue eyes, so all ya friends hover around him. So lets say you get invited to his spooky-dooky Halloween party he’s throwin’ in an old warehouse. It’s sort of his last hurrah cause it’s a lot harder to try and bone civvie girls when you’re a wanted villain with your face on the news attached to a criminal group, so he’s gunna throw it back tonight and take what he can get, you feel?

So you and ya friends get all cute and dolled up in your costumes and head out to this bash that’s taking place on the wrong side of the tracks in some godforsaken warehouse. It’s in the industrial zone, which is comprised of nothing but abandoned buildings, squat houses, and old warehouses. You’re pretty sure he just found one and broke the chain on the door and called it a night. That should be your first clue, but fuck it, what’s life without a little risk?

Anyway, a few hours pass and admittedly, you’re a lil’ drunk. That being said, you could swear this dude in a leatherface costume is stalking you. Maybe not stalking you, per say, but he’s definitely trying hard to be where you are. It’s not like he’s easy to confuse with anyone else; his costume is super unique, and if you’re being honest, a little disturbing. It legit looks like that kid Bakugo from the Sports Festival but forcefully mutated in with the classic Leatherface look. Whoever it is, they’ve definitely got an edgy sense of humor. It should spook you, but it’s Halloween for fucks sake! At least they’re putting some effort in! It’s no coincidence that you see him literally everywhere you go, so maybe he likes you?

Maybe he’s cute under that creepy mask.

It’s worth a shot (get it, shot?), so you let him follow you to the bar and sit down next to an equally empty seat, hoping to give off the vibe of ‘quit being creepy and come talk to me.’ 

A few seconds later and surprise surprise, he sits down right beside you. No sense in pretending this is anything other than what it is, so you turn right to him and offer to buy him a drink. 

He stares at you for a minute, beady pupils surveying you beneath that godawful mask he’s donning before he nods. He doesn’t tell you what he wants, so you just order him whatever mixture of gasoline and fruit you get. He just stares at you while you sip at your own drink, and you can’t help but laugh. His eyes are fuckin’ intense, and while you’re already a little tipsy, it’s pretty clear he’s dead sober. Luckily, alcohol gives you a charming ice breaker. 

“It’s probably a little difficult to drink with that terrifying thing on your face, but I really appreciate your dedication to the look.” 

Behind the holes of the mask, his eyes crinkle near the edges. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling, but he’s definitely reacting to what you’re saying. He must’ve decided that he likes you, because he finally reaches behind his head and loosens whatever makeshift strap that’s tangled in his silver, ‘fake’ blood matted hair. 

As he lets it fall away from his face, you study what’s underneath. He’s a little rough around the edges, a little chapped with dry skin and more than a few blisters on his pale lips, but he’s cute and the costume has you intrigued. For all you know, it could be liquid latex. The guy seems pretty dedicated after all. It makes you wonder what is Halloween paint and what’s his actual skin. You kinda wanna lick him and find out.

Shut up, alcohol. 

“It’s homemade.” He rasps out, voice cracking and strained like he hasn’t spoken in days. After a sip of his own drink, he slips a subtle smile as he sees you eying the grotesque costume piece. “I’m glad you like it.”

It’s gross to say the least. Whatever it’s made out of, it’s certainly not plastic or rubber like most masks. It smells atrocious, especially coupled with the must and cheap booze of the warehouse, and it makes you a little queasy as it flops around in his lap a little too lifelike for your liking. It even has pores, for Christ’s sake. Tearing your gaze away from it isn’t easy, but if you look much longer, you’re not really sure what your stomach is gunna do, so you turn your attentions to the owner instead. 

“Are you making a statement or just not a fan of the would-be hero types?”

He giggles a little even though you’re not entirely sure what you said was funny. “I guess you could say it’s both.” 

You sit in an awkward silence, sipping at your drink for a few minutes before another wave of alcohol induced courage lights a fire under your ass. If he won’t talk, you sure as fuck will.

“So, are you a friend of Dabi’s or-” He scoffs, loud and hard, lip curling in distaste. “No. I’m unfortunate enough to know him. We work together.” 

“Really? I always wondered what he did for a living.” 

It takes him a second to realize that’s you’re prodding, and a minute longer to come up with an answer. “I guess you could say we’re sort of... activists or something.” 

“Is that so? He never really struck me as the generous type.”

“He’s not.” He grins like a fox in a henhouse, mischievous and sly like he knows something you don’t. “And I’m not either.” 

“Then why be an activist?” 

His smirk fades, and he nurses his drink, flicking his eyes away from you. “I dunno.”

“What kind of activist are you? Like social or environmental or-” 

“Uh-” He clearly wasn’t expecting this line of questioning. “Political.” 

“Oh, that’s cool! What kind of politics are you guys into? You seem like the anarchy sort to me, but I don’t wanna judge-”

“Are you always this nosy?”

His sudden hostility takes you back a little. Sure, you’re drunk and annoying, but that seems a bit excessive. Maybe this isn’t the tree you want to be barking up tonight. 

“Sorry. I was just trying to get to know you.” 

You turn your body away from him slightly, returning your gaze to the rusted metal behind the makeshift bar. You can see him glaring you down out of your periphery but opt to ignore it. Regardless, he stares for a few more moments before downing the rest of the drink you apparently wasted your money on.  “Well, don’t.” 

Whatever, man. It’s a fucking Halloween party. You can find a different jerk-ass to hook up with, one who at least pretends to be nice until the night is over. Dicks are a dime a dozen in a place like this, and the ‘super mysterious, if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ bullshit charade he’s playing is grating on your nerves. Part of you wants to tell him off for being so rude, but the other part is telling you to just shut up, project your disinterest, and wait for him to leave.

You huff a small sigh, blowing the air out of your puckered lips as you roll your eyes behind closed lids. Your side of the conversation comes to an abrupt halt, and suddenly everything in the room is more interesting than he is. Yet even with the uncomfortable awkward air around you both, he doesn’t leave. He just continues scanning you over as you do your best to give him the cold shoulder. So he really thinks there’s any sort of comeback from that, huh?

Apparently he does. He’s not very good with social hints either. You’ve almost tuned him out when you feel a bony hand clutching your upper arm. 

“Hey, come with me. This place is boring and I’ve got something I want to show you.” 

You turn, shooting him a disbelieving glare, but he’s already slid off his bar stool and is pulling you along with him. He doesn’t bother to wait for your answer, weaving through the crowds and dragging you behind him even as you try to wiggle your arm out of his grasp. Had you been in your right mind, you might have screamed or shoved him and told him to get lost, but your liquor marinated mind makes it difficult. He’s kinda right, after all. This place has gotten boring. All your friends left you behind an hour ago to go find their own conquests and dancing by yourself gets pretty lame after a minute. It’s not like you had anything better to do. 

Alright, fine. Follow the rude guy. He seems pretty adamant about it anyway. 

You try to justify it by telling yourself maybe he’s just super socially awkward or doesn’t have much experience with girls. He could also be one of those super brash, brutally honest people that just says whatever comes to mind. Maybe he didn’t mean it in a mean way. A trailing history of terrible taste in men leaves his unbridled rudeness with a bad taste in your mouth, but it wasn’t like you were planning on seeing him again after tonight. Ride the dick and then ride off into the sunset. 

You both dodge through the groups of people together as he yanks you towards the very back of the warehouse. The couple of doors he leads you through have a fairly prominent ‘Do Not Enter’ sign cautioning at eye level, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded, pulling you through the heavy doors despite the clear warning. A few hallways and dim, empty corridors later and he’s ushering you into something resembling a claustrophobic courtyard outside that joins the warehouse with a few of the surrounding buildings.

It’s very dark outside, and aside from the slight shine of ugly yellow tinted streetlights peeking through the alleyway, you can’t see much of anything. You can’t imagine what on Earth it is out here that he wants to show you, but you doubt you’ll even be able to see it. Anxiety starts to bloom in your chest as your drunk mind starts to realize that you’ve followed a stranger out into a very dark, very isolated area.

“H-hey, I never got your name.”

He laughs softly, coming up behind you and gripping your shoulders in a way that feels all too tight. Steering you forward, he leans in, feet falling in line with your steps.

“You’re right. My bad, that’s awfully rude of me.”

He pushes you forward in a way that seems a bit intense for having just met before latching his hands lazily around the base of your neck and pulling you into his chest.

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t know what Dabi does for a living, or else you never would have been stupid enough to follow me out here.”

Okay, it’s Halloween and all, but his brand of prank is starting to feel a little too real. The macabre costume and total boorishness should have been the insight you needed to come to the conclusion that this guy just isn’t quite right in the head, but between the alcohol and your desire to give him the benefit of the doubt, it just never quite clicked for you.

“It’s Shigaraki, by the way. My name. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

His wet breath on your neck isn’t the only reason you get shivers. You have heard that name before, only never spoken so casually. His fingers tighten around the tensing muscles in your throat as you swallow down a bombardment of emotion. Panic. Fear. Realization.

There’s a million and ten things going through your mind right now, the foremost of which is why. You aren’t a hero, nor are you a particularly fervent hero supporter. You’re not related to any heroes, and frankly, there’s no one further from the social/cultural hub that is hero society. Isn’t that what this guy gets his rocks off to? At least from the news snippets, that’s the impression you gathered.

You want to ask him why you. Maybe its a selfish question but it’s a question none the less, and one people tend to ask when their place on the mortal coil is being threatened. Yet, no matter how you try to spit out the words, your tongue stills in your dry mouth and refuses to cooperate. The pounding in your chest is giving way to a headache and a serious case of sick, and you swear between the loud pulsing of blood in your veins, you can hear him giggling behind you.

You think maybe that’s a strong enough cue to leave. You can ask him why when you’re separated by a thick layer of glass at Tartarus.

You know, it’s easy to sit back in the comfort of your own home and laugh at the clumsy heroine in any given horror movie who fumbles away from the killer like a newborn fawn just discovering its own lanky legs, but you’re quick to understand just why that troupe is so popular. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to turn on your heel and shove him hard on the chest, and even when you manage, it’s so weak and pathetic that it barely knocks him off balance. It only just gives you enough space that you can dart in the opposite direction. Where you’re going, you have no clue, but it’s not on the forefront of your mind as you pound pavement beneath your shitty costume shoes and shout “Stay away from me!” like some cliche damsel in distress.

Your adrenaline fueled getaway is short lived. A few seconds after beginning your feverish sprint away from what you know to be a very dangerous young fellow, the front of your foot catches on something and sends you toppling to the ground only a few feet from where you began your initial rush. Your fall is less than graceful, and the shriek that emits from your throat before your body thuds to the dirt like a sack of potatoes is far less sexy than anything in any horror movie. The bag you’ve been clutching, filled with nothing but the bare essentials and a half empty flask, is flung from your fingers. Your assailant doesn’t slow-walk towards you in a menacing manner while wielding a knife, but practically jogs over, wheezing with nasally laughter as he grabs you by the hair.

“I bet that went a lot better in your head, huh?”

A lot of things went a lot better in your head, to be fair. That scene. This night. Your life in general. But the little pity party you’re throwing yourself does little to garner his sympathies. No amount of hiccuping and crying fat gobs of tears that leak from your lashes and down into the Halloween makeup it took you hours to do elicits any response from him but what he had already planned on.

His laughter finally dies down and the fingers threaded through your hair manhandle you to your knees before roughly casting you down onto something. Something hollow yet sturdy greets your sensitive, liquor addled stomach as he forces you down and bends you over it. It feels slightly waxy, yet organic to the touch, and seems to wobble around slightly the more he kicks and prods you into a position you’ve seen one too many times in those shitty free pornos.

Pumpkin. It’s a fucking pumpkin.

You can smell the leaves and grass and sodden soil as he positions your hips up in the air, shucking off the costume apron he’d been wearing. Dirt embeds under your finger nails as you struggle to drag the rest of your body over the pumpkin to make your escape, but the hand that isn’t currently fumbling with his zipper is still tightly anchored in your hair, holding you in place. He hisses out a few words warning you against struggling too hard, his quirk is uncontrollable after all.

He makes quick work of the cheap costume bottom, inhaling a ragged breath and digging his jagged nails in a little too tightly to your skin when your ass becomes bared to the cool night air. The sight of you must’ve made him impatient, as he settles for simply yanking up your top along your back to expose your tits instead of going through the effort to try and get it off you. If what you’ve heard is true, he could simply dust it and be rid of it, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in the most centered form of mind right now, and it doesn’t appear like it’s your death he’s after.

No, it seems like he’s after something much more intimate than death.

Your mind is acutely aware of what’s about to happen, but it’s trapped in your paralyzed body, unable to force your heavy limbs to move with the weight of the panic. He’s freed himself from his pants, knuckles bumping against the cleft of your ass with every jerk of the cock that you thank God is hidden from your vision. After a few rigorous pumps, he withdraws for a moment before spitting and dribbling his slick saliva into the palm of his hand, coating his cock and using it as a makeshift lubricant.

When he’s finished making spitting sounds that make your stomach church, he lines his hips against your reluctantly spread legs and you feel the hot, thick tip prodding against the tautly pulled walls of your entrance. It’s enough to renew your childlike kicking and whining, babbling and pleading for him to stop. Regardless, he pays you no mind, opting only to yank his hand from the roots of your hair. It stings and he takes several strands of hair with it, but you don’t have time to focus on the pain as his fingertips dig into the fat of your cheeks, flexing and forcing you to look up at him as he hunches his wiry frame over yours.

It’s hard to see through the haze of tears that blear your vision and thick black makeup caking around your eyes, but you can make out that he’s smiling. If you can call it that, that is. Cracked lips wet and parted, breathing hot, moist breath down onto your forehead. Lips curled upward in a nasty, smarmy grin. A slimy tongue trails along his teeth as he practically drools down onto your shoulder like you’re a thick cut of venison and he’s a rabid wolf ready to sink in his canines.

“You know, I never cared much for Halloween,” His hips cant forward ever so slightly and begins to push the tip inside your unwilling hole. Slowly, slowly at first, but soon with more force. It hurts, morphing from a dull ache into an intense sting the more his girthy length is stuffed snug inside between your thighs. “But Dabi was right- it’s a lot more fun when you dress up.”

To punctuate the end of his sentence, he pulses his hips forward, sinking himself all the way inside and watching with a sick sense of glee as your face contorts in pain. He rolls his hips experimentally against your backside a few times, hissing in slight discomfort at the bittersweet tightness that strangles his flesh inside of yours. It stills him only for a brief moment, long enough for you to truly grasp the horrendous sensation of your body molding to accommodate something too large for it to have been ready to take.

However uncomfortable he may be, it’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling. It seems like a cruel joke that the wanted villain who set his sights on you that night would also have a monster cock, but Halloween was always the devil’s little prank show. He’s crammed it inside you with no regard for the damage it might do, pain radiating in the deep of your stomach as his cockhead is scrunched firmly against the wall of your cervix. Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt, but not to escape. You’re aware you’re too firmly impaled on him for that to be an option, so you settle for trying to give yourself any sensation at all that will lessen the unholy tear of your already sensitive pussy.

Eventually he decides he’s had enough of memorizing your pretty, anguished face, and his movements begin anew. Hips pistoning in a building rhythm, flesh of his thighs slapping obscenely against your bare ass. The protruding stem of the pumpkin grates into your abdomen, forcing pained, breathy ‘ah’s from you with every powerful hump. The anguishing drag of his cock assaulting your insides begins to blend together one after the next, and you do your best to block out the animalistic grunts and a sickening moans he emits with every thrust.

Eventually he lets your face go in favor of sinking his fingers just below your waist to anchor you in place as he pounds away, and you take the opportunity to drop your head in defeat and clench your eyes shut. He’ll get bored of you or he’ll cum. It’s what comes after that you should really be worried about. By the sounds he’s making, he’s far from losing interest. He seems to be getting a bit carried away, muttering something along the lines of “take it, slut” and needing to celebrate holidays more often.

That’s when you hear it.

Spooky, scary, skeletons send shivers down your spine

At first, you think it’s a joke. Like you’re having some sort of twisted nightmare and reality has finally decided to throw you a bone to lead your consciousness back home. But his manic fucking never stops and neither does the pain.

Shrieking souls with shock your soul, seal your doom tonight

A few blinks to clear the fresh wave of agony and one hand digging into the side of the pumpkin to stable yourself enough against his rutting to search for the source of the noise. There’s a glowing light a few feet from you, flashing and vibrating but just out of reach.

Your phone. It’s your phone. Your bag had landed not far from where he had you pinned, and your phone had been thrown from the bag.

Your new October ringtone plays through the damaged speakers, flashing your best friends face on the screen. She’s looking for you, probably wondering where you went. She’d never find you here. No one would.

We’re so sorry skeletons, you’re so misunderstood

Help is so close, yet so far away. Your sobs begin anew, feeling his cock pulse as he whines something about breeding his pretty little bitch into your ear. He’s cumming inside you, papping his hips against you in a shallow, offbeat rhythm. You can feel it, hear it squelching and leaking down your thighs. He came. Inside you. And judging from what few words you can make out between your agonized cries, he has every intention of doing it again.

You just want to socialize but I don’t think we should

[qqueenofhades]

(1/2) Honestly, Hilary, you are a blessing. I want to scream about your amazing Fic, how I love Immortal Husbands and the whole Immortal Family and how I had more fun learning history from your writing than in my whole damn school. But I also want to appreciate your TOG answers and meta. All the more because my friends outside the internet saw TOG as some boring movie with shitty plot and I'm just here in the corner, wanting to scream at someone who will understand about FINALLY seeing...

"(2/2) ...some GOOD queer representation, without throwing stereotypes in our faces, and I can't even begin with the found family trope because THE FEELS. Anyway, what I was trying to say with this rambling: thank you. <3"

....I’m sorry what. Who. Who is saying this. Straight people? I feel like the answer is definitely straight people. Because they have had EIGHTY FUCKING THOUSAND shitty action movies with the Boring White Man Hero, the disposable Muslim-coded (or actually Muslim) villains, the equally disposable eye-candy female love interest who either gets fridged or is secretly evil, Grimdark Everyone Is Secretly Bad And Nothing Matters crap philosophy, Moral Hand Wringing Over Superhero Violence, on and on. So of course they can moan and whine about “iT’s nOt OrIGinAL” and apparently not sufficiently Grimdark and Amoral, and how the dynamics of the team are completely reshuffled in a way that actually doesn’t prioritize THEM, and like.... this is why I never trust media only beloved by straight people, and only ever watch anything after it’s been recommended to me by a trusted queer friend. Because sometimes I remember the difference, and WHOOF.

Because: the gays and people of color DESERVE formulaic action/superhero movies as much as the Generic White Bro (in fact, we can all agree, far more than the Generic White Bro). This is the trap where every piece of media that’s not made by a Mediocre White Man has to be the best all-time of its genre, apparently, rather than using some of the same well-loved storytelling tropes but recoding them and re-deploying them for a more diverse audience. Instead of the Hard Bitten White Man Action Hero, we have Andy and Nile (two women, and Nile as a young Black woman who literally cannot be shot to death, in the year 2020, is fucking revolutionary on its own don’t @ me). As I said in my first meta, even Booker, who comes closest to fulfilling that trope, is made the closest thing to a “villain” there is on the team and even then for entirely sympathetic motives that rest on him having teary-eyed conversations with Nile about how he misses his family and feels like he failed them. His emotions help drive the story in an actually GOOD and useful way, rather than sacrificing everyone else to coddle him through his feeble heterosexual manchildness (why yes, I AM staring directly at the Abomination without blinking). Nobody in the story is EVER penalized or made a fool of for loving their found family (itself an intensely queer trope, even before the queerness of the individual characters) or trying to do the right thing even in the middle of the horrors, and frankly, I just want to consume more media with that as the main message. I’M SO FREAKING TIRED OF GRIMDARK. GOD. IF I WANTED THAT I COULD JUST TURN ON THE NEWS.

And of course, my BELOVED Joe and Nicky: an interracial, interreligious gay couple that has been wildly in love for literal CENTURIES and gives me the opportunity to do things like write the most self-indulgent historical romance backstory fic ever with DVLA. They met in the embodiment of religious conflict and have transcended that, there are never any cruel jokes or expectation for you to congratulate the narrative for being so beneficent as to give you “an exclusively gay moment” (fuck you Disney!). Joe and Nicky’s love story is central both to who they are as characters, doesn’t revolve around them being suffering or being Tormented over being gay (when the cops pull them apart for kissing, they beat the cops the fuck up, WE STAN), gets to unfold naturally in the background of the story with these beautiful little beats of casual intimacy (the SPOONING /clutches heart) and since THEY LITERALLY CANNOT DIE, no chance of the “burying your gays” bullshit. Even when they’re captured first by the bad guys, and I briefly, upon first viewing, worried that they were going the Gay Pain route just for cheap emotional points, they remain constantly united and fighting together and able to do stupid things like flirt when they’re strapped to gurneys by a mad scientist. Then the rest of the team ends up right there with them, so it’s not something that happens to them alone, and Nile comes in to save everyone’s asses, and Joe and Nicky get ANOTHER beautiful moment of fighting the bad guys and being worried about each other and tender even in the middle of this chaos and GOD! MY HEART! MY WHOLE ASS HEART! I LOVE THEM!

And just the fact that it’s not the Evul Mooslim Turrorists or Boilerplate Scary Eastern Europeans or whoever else who are the bad guys, but Big Pharma, nasty white men with too much money and not enough ethics, the CIA (at least tangentially; they could have pushed a lot harder on that but I’ll give Copley individually a pass), and the very forces that want to stop the Old Guard and discount what they do (helping the little people) as worthless... GOD. That is fucking POWERFUL. They literally take the time to explain with Copley’s Conspiracy Wall that even the little things the team does, when they can’t see it themselves, spiral out through centuries and have positive effects down the line. And it’s NOT just in the Western world (no scene in the movie takes place in America, none of the main four characters/heroes are American, and they only go to England when the English villains capture them). They’re in Africa, in Asia, in South America, in all these places where the Western/imperial world order has harmed people the most and in a way that Euro/American audience often gets to forget. On the surface this might be an action movie with Charlize Theron beating up men (which I mean, that alone is fine if you ask me) but there are SO MANY WAYS in which it achieves these deeper moments of meaning and subversion of the narrative that we are so often fed and the ways it could have done this (i.e. the same old Mediocre White Man ways).

I love the fact that the team unabashedly LOVES each other as their family members (I will never get over them all liking to sleep in one room even in their safe house in France), even when they struggle, and that they continue trying to make it right and never consider leaving Booker behind, because he screwed up but they still love him (and he them). I LOVE LOVE LOVE that this movie gave me not just Joe and Nicky but Andy and Quynh: two completely badass queer couples who kick tons of ass and have romance and Drama and rich and well-realized lives outside being used as emotional manipulation or suffering porn for straight people. (I realise it’s only been two weeks since the first one released, but where is my sequel, I have Needs. Especially Andy/Quynh and Quynh/Joe/Nicky needs). I was disappointed that they’d gotten rid of Quynh in a Bad Medieval Way to cause pain for Andy and then shocked and DELIGHTED when she turned up alive in Booker’s apartment at the end of the film. I LOVE that this movie gave me Nile Freeman and everything that she represents in the middle of this hellish year. I even love Booker! BOOKER! When he’s usually the character type I can’t stand and have the least patience with!

So yes. I have watched it three times already. I am sure I am going to watch it several times more. It just makes me so happy.

[rejectofsociety]

Febuwhump: Day Fifteen

Prompt: “Run. Don’t Look Back”

Summary: Our friendly neighborhood Spiderman and his two dear friends find themselves trapped in a maze of terror. They suddenly begin to wonder: is any of this real?

Word Count: 2,031

Warnings: Starvation, Mysterio

Written For: @febuwhump 

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞　　∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

They had been trapped inside the same endless labyrinth of insanity for the past two weeks. Peter, Michelle, and Ned had no memories of how they had gotten trapped the maze of a warehouse— they only remembered awaking in a dungeon with their limbs chained down. Using his spider strength, Peter had no problem ripping the chains out of the concrete floor. It had taken some time, but Peter had also managed to carefully break the clamps around their wrists and ankles, leaving them free to trek through the pitch black hallways. They had no source of light but they had quickly learned how to navigate through the dark led by Peter’s fine hearing.

In the two weeks that they had spent fighting insanity with every ounce of willpower they had, the three had eaten absolutely nothing and only drank a little bit of dirty (probably sewer) water that had made their stomach ache and heads spin. For the sake of staying alive, it had been worth it.

The halls were brisk, but not freezing, and uncomfortably damp and musty. The air tasted of decay and smelled just as bad— fortunately, the teens had grown numb to it. Having no sense of time, they would rest whenever they grew weary, taking the time to cling to each other and cry as they wondered if they would ever see the light of day again. They longed for their families and fresh meals, but both seemed to be ridiculous fantasies— merely a joke they could laugh at.

As for Peter, he had been filled with gut-wrenching guilt that he could never shake. He was the hero here, he should have been able to find away out by now. He should have been able to protect them. His spider sense was failing him miserably, only occasionally buzzing at small inconveniences like a nearby fly or rat. Of course, neither of his friends were blaming him and he knew that. But it didn’t matter. He was blaming himself.

“Peter,” Ned called— it was their sixteenth day in the maze, but none of them knew that.

Peter turned his head to look to his left in Ned’s direction, their hands were locked together and their fingers were intertwined. This was how they learned to stick together— holding hands like kindergarteners. Peter would have actually enjoyed holding his best friend and girlfriend’s hands constantly if it weren’t for the circumstances.

“What is it?” Peter asked, his throat was dry and his voice was hoarse.

“Do you think that one movie has come out yet?” Ned often came up with random, normal topics to talk about— it helped keep them sane.

“Man, that’s so vague,” Peter managed to chuckle, “which movie?”

“The one based off the video game.”

“Oh. Uncharted?” Peter assumed, “no, I don’t think it’ll come out for a while.”

“Good,” Ned sighed, “when we get outta here, I wanna see it in a movie theater.”

“Me too,” Peter smiled softly.

Then, Peter felt a slight tug at his right hand, making him realize that Michelle had stopped walking. He muttered for Ned to stop, then protectively tightened his grip on Michelle’s hand.

“Em, what’s-“

“What if we can’t get out,” she muttered tensely.

Peter heaved a sigh, “we’ve already been over this.”

“I-I know,” she stammered, “but I can’t stop thinking about it and-“

Peter let go of Ned’s hand and pulled her into a hug. She practically melted into his touch, resting her head on his shoulder and clutching his ragged shirt. Peter held onto her like a lifeline, hating how she felt like a skeleton in his arms.

“None of this should have happened,” he mumbled to her, his face hidden in her wild curls, “and I’m sorry. But I swear I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find a way out, we’ll all get some lunch, maybe see a movie, we’ll do whatever you guys want. But, for now, we should just focus on sticking together, okay? A-and just walk with me, I’ll handle the rest.”

“Peter, I’m serious,” Michelle whimpered, “what if-“

“Then we’ll die,” he blatantly stated, “but, hell, if we die then I’m so, so grateful to die with both of you. I love you two and I know this whole thing’s been scary as hell, but being with you guys has made it slightly more bearable. If we go down, we’re going down together. Understand?”

Michelle nodded slightly and clung to him tighter. Ned found his way to the two and joined the hug. Peter and Michelle felt his arms wrap around them and they pulled him close. They all shook slightly, but they had grown used to the cold and numb to the fear— at this point, they were just exhausted.

Being ill, weary, and half-starved, the children were on the brink of giving up. Truthfully, they would rather lay down and die than live another second in that nightmarish land. The thought of dying was no longer frightening to them, it was rather welcoming and they were gradually beginning to realize that— despite their optimistic words— there was no hope for them. They were doomed to never escape and-

Suddenly, Peter’s hearing picked up on the faintest whistle of wind passing through a tiny opening. He strained his ears then jumped away from his friends when heard the sound again. It was quiet and far away, but within a second he was able to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from.

“I hear something!” He announced.

“What?” Michelle and Ned demanded in unison.

“C-come on,” he frantically took hold of their hands, practically trembling with anxious excitement, “c’mon,”

“O-okay, okay,” Michelle stammered, “calm down.”

Peter ignored her and hurried down the hall, his friends doing their absolute best to keep up with him. As he made sharp turns and listened to the soft sound, the faint scent of polluted, New York air began to reach his nose. His head began buzzing quietly— it was his spider sense reawakening. Any other time, he would have welcomed it, but at the moment it was obnoxiously confusing his senses. Stop that! He thought sharply, you’re distracting me!

He stopped suddenly in the middle of a clearing to gather his thoughts and refocus his senses on the sound and smell.

“Why did you stop?” Ned asked nervously.

“I need a sec,” he replied, “please be quiet.”

His spider sense began ringing loudly in his ears, yet he continued to try silencing it. It was probably “broken” again because it couldn’t seem to focus on anything. It was just screaming in his ears with no rhyme or reason and bringing him a sense of fierce agitation. He was so close to getting his friends out! This could not be the thing that ruined his mission.

“Peter,” Michelle muttered, tugging on his hand slightly.

“Not now, Em,” he replied through grit teeth.

“I’m serious,” she urged.

“So am I,” he grumbled as his spider sense began focusing on the back of his head.

“Peter, turn around,” Ned snapped anxiously.

Peter looked over his shoulder and was met with the sight of a soft, vibrant green light shining in the distance. He knit his brow in confusion and squinted at it— it was just dim enough that his eyes weren’t crying out in pain quite yet.

“Is that our way out?” Ned asked.

“No,” Peter warily replied, his spider sense was frantically urging him away from the light, “no, it’s definitely not.”

He narrowed his eyes at it, tilting his head away slightly to shield his overly sensitive eyes. The light began gradually growing brighter until the three were forced to shut their eyes and look away.

“Peter, what is that?” Michelle shakily questioned.

“I don’t...” his voice trailed off.

A memory of last year hit him in the chest like a sack of bricks and a single thought took over his mind: Mysterio. His heart began pounding in his chest and his mind raced with solutions. Mysterio. He lied. He betrayed me. All of it was fake... his heart skipped a beat. All of it was fake!

“Peter, what do we do?” Ned asked frantically, making Peter realize how close Mysterio was getting.

“Run,” he stated, letting go of their hands, “you have to trust me.”

“What are you talking about?” Michelle furrowed her brow, she could just barely make out the outline of her boyfriend.

“None of this is real,” he promised, “now run. You’ll find a wall and it will feel like it’s there, but I swear you can walk through it.”

Ned’s eyes widened, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” he stated firmly, “run. Don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.”

Having no other choices but to listen to their friend, Ned and Michelle agreed. Peter felt Michelle’s lips briefly brush his— a fleeting yet meaningful kiss— then the two took off running.

Peter inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, then turned around to face his enemy. The green light began to dim down, revealing Mysterio standing fully suited a few feet away.

“It’s so, so good to see you again, Peter,” Quentin commented, his voice laced with fake kindness.

“You must really love getting your ass kicked,” Peter snapped hostilely, his eyes still sealed tight.

He was all talk and the villain knew it. The boy was exhausted, fatigued, and would fall over if someone blew on him. But, for the sake of his friends, he had to try to hold Quentin off. Maybe they could get help.

“I admire your confidence,” Quentin remarked, “but we both know you can’t win this one.”

“Honestly—“ Peter tensed his famished muscles and prepared for a fight, “— I don’t give a fuck.”

Before Quentin could make another comment, Peter charged him and the two were launched into battle.

At the same time, Michelle and Ned had just stumbled out of a warehouse wall and onto the streets of New York. Fortunately for them, it was late at night and their eyes were safe from the scorching light of the sun. Still, the lights of cars and nearby buildings were enough to make their eyes snap shut.

“Why did Peter stay behind?!” Ned cried.

A distant car horn screamed in their ears, making them simultaneously jolt in surprise and clap their hands over their ears. They were both trembling and Michelle had tears rolling down her cheeks in panic.

“I-I don’t know,” she replied shakily, then her mind finally put the last puzzle piece into place and she exclaimed, “Mysterio! It’s gotta be him, I just know it!”

Ned’s heart sank, “oh shit, you’re-“

“Ned? MJ?” A voice called as it approached the two mangy, skeleton children, “where the hell’ve you been?”

“What happened to you kids?” A second, deeper voice laced with concern asked.

Michelle shielded her eyes from the lights and looked up to see Bucky and Sam, who were by some miracle at exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Overwhelmed with relief, Michelle threw her arms around Sam and hugged him tightly. Despite his confusion, Sam gently hugged back and was filled with a mix of anger and fear when he felt how thin she was.

Ned cracked his eyes open and quickly pointed to the warehouse, “Peter’s still in there! A-and we think Mysterio-“

“Alright, kid,” Bucky interrupted, that was all he needed to hear, “you two stay here, we’ll have Bruce come pick you up, and we’ll get Peter.”

“Thank you,” Michelle managed as she peeled herself away from Sam, “most of it isn’t even real,” she informed, “be careful about that, please.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Sam assured, “thank you.”

“Now stay here, don’t move, someone will get you as soon as possible,” Bucky instructed sternly.

“Yessir,” Ned and Michelle agreed as they sat down on the sidewalk and curled up next to each other.

Sam removed his jacket and draped it over their trembling shoulders then he turned to Bucky. Both men were already tense and prepared for battle.

“This is not how I expected our date night to end,” Sam commented as he stood at Bucky’s side.

“Honestly, this is a better ending than I expected. Finally getting to beat up the guy who hurt Peter is a pretty great way to wrap things up if you ask me,” Bucky replied and Sam chuckled; the soldier smiled fondly. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 047 [Teamwork]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 3,352

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“Don’t be scared to say what’s on your mind. Show them all your colors, show your pride. And no matter what they say, know you’re a star.” Mackenzie Ziegler, “Teamwork”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

I stepped inside the classroom, eyes locking with heterochromatic ones. I suppressed a shiver as I approached my desk. To think that I could have been flame fuck’s kid… I could have been Shouto’s sister. Now I feel bad about all those dirty thoughts I had when I first met him. Ugh, what was that dipshit mom of mine thinking? Was he married to Shouto’s mom back then? He had to be… right? That means he cheated on his wife – that doesn’t really surprise me, he seems the type. Did mom know he was married? Did he pay her like he paid off his wife’s family? I groaned, letting my forehead hit my desk.

A hand rested on my shoulder followed by a soft, familiar voice. “How are your injuries?”

“Todoro -” My eye twitched as flame fuck popped into my head. “I’m fine, Shouto. How are you doing?”

His eyes widened a bit at the use of his first name, cheeks dusting a light pink. “I wasn’t injured that badly.”

“Good.”

Shit, it feels awkward as fuck now. Silence settled over us and I briefly wondered if he’s feeling as awkward as I am. Students started to file into the room, swapping stories of their adventures during their internship.

Obnoxious laughter filled the room as Kirishima and Sero loudly chorused, “Holy crap! What the heck, Bakugo?!”

Huh? Katsuki? I can’t see anything but those two idiot’s backs. I stood up, slowly approaching the three boys.

“Stop laughing…” Kat’s voice was strained. “My hair’s gotten used to this and I can’t get it back the right way…”

“Woah,” My eyes widened as I stepped up beside Kiri. Katsuki’s body was shaking and his hair… it’s flatter than Kyouka’s tits! “Uh… new fashion choice, Kat? Actually, it don’t look that bad. You look like… a prep.”

“Did you not hear me?! I’ll kill all of you!”

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy!” Sero laughed loudly.

“What did you call me?!” With an explosive pop, his flat blonde hair expanded outward, returning to its natural spiky state.

“There it goes!!” The two chorused, clutching their stomachs.

Before he could actually kill them, I threw my arm around his neck and dragged him over to his desk. He elbowed me hard in the gut, which was still fucking sore, before falling onto his chair. I wheezed in pain, “The fuck was that for?”

His vermillion eyes narrowed as they met mine. “You ignored all my damn messages! And then fucking Iida called me telling me you’re alive! What the fuck, tiger?!”

“My phone kinda… broke,” I deadpanned, sitting backward at the desk in front of him. “Well, as it turns out, our bad feelings were right. I put our instincts to the test, you’re welcome.”

He scowled, leaning forward on his desk. “What the fuck happened?”

I rested my arms on the top of the chair and sighed. “The hero and all of her sidekicks were all dead when I arrived at the agency.”

He sucked in a breath, his eyes widening.

“It was the League of Villains. I was actually about to call you and tell you what I found when they appeared. Tried to get away, but that damn warp gate is a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Wait…” Katsuki.exe is processing this information. “The league had you all fucking week?!”

Ojirou, currently the closest person to us, glanced over at us at the sudden exclamation and I sent him a sheepish smile before scowling at Kat. “No one fucking knows, so shut your fatass mouth!”

“You’re a fucking dumbass, you know that?” He growled, smacking his hand on the desk. “I told you not to go!”

I hummed. “I also met my dad.”

“You what?”

“Apparently, he’s a top hero over in Ireland.” I held up a finger and grinned. “But wait, there’s more! I learned some juicy shit about my mom. You won’t fucking believe -” My words paused in my throat when I felt an aura spike across the room. Holy cow, Ochaco’s aura is hella stronger than it was before!

“I’d say that it was very enlightening,” she punched the air a few times. To be honest, I feel relieved that her spirit has changed, gotten stronger. That means she’ll be safer.

“I think she found her fighting spirit,” Tsu commented.

“Yeah, that battle hero must’ve been something else,” Kyouka agreed.

“After one week, she’s like a totally different person.” Kaminari mused.

“‘Different’? Don’t be fooled, Kaminari.” Mineta got a terrified look on his face, his skin pale and eyes wide. “All women are demons at heart. They just hide their true personalities behind pretty faces…” His voice shook and I smirked. Good, that bitch put him in his place. Now let’s hope he fucking stays there.

“What the heck did Mt. Lady do to you? Everyone at my internship loved me, it was actually kinda great! Now, if you wanna talk about the ones who really changed, it was those three,” Kaminari nodded toward Shouto’s desk where he, Zuku, and Iida were gathered.

“Oh yeah! The hero killer!” Sero exclaimed.

“Glad you guys made it back alive,” Kirishima gave them a soft smile. “Seriously!”

Momo nodded. “I worried about you, too.”

“You’re lucky Endeavor showed up and saved you guys,” Sumo’s voice sounds so goddamn condescending, the little fuck.

“So cool~” Toru swooned. “Just what I’d expect from the number two hero!”

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at the desk beside me. “Bastard didn’t do shit.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched in annoyance. “Don’t fucking tell me… you were there, too?!”

“Huh?” Kaminari’s golden eyes met mine. “You were there, too, Winchester?”

“What?” Sero added. “No way!”

Shouto spoke up, his voice and face blank. “Yeah, that’s right. He saved us.”

“Did you guys hear the news about the hero killer?” Ojirou questioned. “Everyone’s been saying that he’s somehow connected to the League of Villains. Can you imagine how frightening it would’ve been if that creep had been there when they attacked the USJ?”

“They’re not connected,” I responded blankly. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

Kirishima tilted his head. “How do you know?”

“Uhh… woman’s intuition?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, “What a dumbass excuse.”

“He’s scary, yeah, but did you see ’em in that weird video?” Kaminari asked. “It’s all over the internet.”

“I didn’t even know there was a video of him,” Ojirou responded in surprise.

“Yeah,” he continued. “Stain’s a pretty evil villain, but like, super tenacious! He’s almost kinda cool, don’t you guys think?”

“Kaminari!” Zuku cried out in disbelief.

“Huh?��� the blonde’s gaze slipped to Iida and his expression turned guilty, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Oh, uh… dude…!”

“No, it’s okay. You’re fine.” Iida replied calmly, holding his hand up. I can see the bandages peeking out from the sleeves of his jacket. “It is true that he’s quite a tenacious villain. I understand why people might think he was cool, but instead of helping the world, his beliefs led him to cold-blooded murder. No matter his motives, killing cannot be condoned.”

Kaminari lowered his head, shoulders slumping. I stood up and rested my hand on his head, ruffling his blonde hair.

Iida continued, “To keep anyone else from suffering like me… well,” he held his arm out straight, glasses glinting under the bright lights. “I promise… I will strive to be the perfect hero!”

“Yeah, let’s do it!” Zuku cheered.

I clicked my tongue, moving my arm to rest on Kaminari’s shoulder. “I hate to be that bitch -” Which is a total lie. “I get what you’re tryin’ to say, right, but~ to quote a very creepy but quite brilliant mad scientist: ‘There is no such thing as perfect in this world. That may sound cliche, but it’s the truth. The average person admires perfection and seeks to obtain it, but what’s the point of achieving perfection? There is none. Nothing. Not a single thing. I spit on perfection! If something is perfect, then there is nothing left. There is no room for imagination. No place left for that person to gain additional knowledge or abilities.’”

Sero whistled. “That’s pretty deep.”

Katsuki scoffed. “You can remember that long ass fucking quote you can’t even remember simple math equations. Dumbass.”

“In conclusion!” I met Iida’s eyes and offered him a grin. “Don’t strive to be perfect, strive to be the best hero you can be, Mr. Class Rep~”

He returned the smile, nodding his head. “You’re right. I never thought of it that way.”

Zuku looked between us with worry before sighing in relief when he realized we weren’t gonna butt heads again.

“It’s time for class to begin! Everyone, please take your seats!” Iida ordered loudly.

“He’s back…” Fumi sighed.

“This is your fault for talking about weird stuff,” Kyouka sweatdropped, glaring at Kaminari whose face fell in response.

“Sorry… I’ll keep my mouth shut…”

“Class 1-A will ensure there is peace!”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Class 1-A was led to a secluded area away from the school building. It was basically a mini-city, but instead of buildings, there were a bunch of warehouses and a shit-ton of pipes and empty tanks.

“I am here!” Toshi fell from the sky, as he usually does, landing in front of the class. “Hope you’re ready to return to our lessons! Today, it’s hero basic training! Feels like I haven’t seen you in a while. Welcome back! Now then, listen carefully for what’s in store. We’re going to be conducting a little race. Take everything you’ve learned from your internships and apply it to this rescue training.”

“If it’s rescue training,” Iida’s bandaged arm shot up into the air. “Then shouldn’t we be at the USJ instead?”

“Ah! That facility specializes in disasters. As I said earlier, this is a race. So prepare!” Toshi grinned. “You’re about to step into field Gamma! Inside is an area full of factories that form an intricate labyrinth, so good luck finding your way around. You’ll be competing in groups of five. Each person starts from a different location on the outskirts of the model city. I’ll send a distress signal and you do what you must to rescue me! Whoever finds me first, wins! But try to keep the property damage to a bare minimum, please.” He sent a sharp look at Bakugo while pointing his finger directly at him.

Chief didn’t even try to be discreet with that shade.

Katsuki growled, glancing away. “Why are you pointing at me?”

“Alright! First group, to your places!”

Group one consisted of Zuku, Ojirou, Iida, Sero, and Ashido. The rest of us gathered around the large screen to watch the race. Kaminari frowned at the screen, his voice filled with worry. “Iida hasn’t completely recovered yet, right? He should sit this out!”

“Yeah,” Kirishima nodded. “And everyone in this group has really good mobility.”

“I’d say Midoriya’s at a heavy disadvantage against those four,” Momo commented.

“That’s what I think,” Kyouka agreed. “Moving around quickly isn’t exactly one of his strong suits, that’s for sure.”

Momo added, “And whenever he uses his powers, he always gets badly injured.”

I held back my smirk as my eyes met Shouto’s. That’s right, no one knows about how much my lil cinnabon has improved or how he can now use One for All with less drawbacks aside from Iida and Shouto. Man, their surprised faces are gonna be fucking priceless! I glanced at Katsuki’s back. I bet he’s not gonna be too happy, though.

“Who’s your pick?” Kirishima asked, glancing at Kaminari. “I’m betting on Sero!”

“Oh yeah~? Hmm, I’ve got odds on Ojirou.”

“I choose Ashido!” Mineta interjected. “‘Cause she’s got a super athletic body!”

Kat humphed. “I know Deku will be last.”

“Even if he’s still recovering, I think Iida’s got this one,” Ochaco commented, to which Tsu nodded in agreement.

Fumi glanced at me over his shoulder when I moved to stand behind him. “Who do you believe will win, Jen-san?”

“Zuku,” I responded without much thought, only to immediately regret it when Katsuki glared at me.

“Is everyone ready?” Toshi raised his hand, pressing the trigger button. “Begin!”

The five of them took off, using their quirks to propel themselves over obstacles and across pipes. Currently, Sero is in the lead.

“Look at him go!” Kirishima cheered. “In a maze like this, it makes sense to be above everything else!”

“So that means Sero’s at an advantage because he can take to the sky,” Shouji mused, using one of his fake mouths to talk. I wonder if he has a real mouth. That might explain why he always wears that face mask. Hmm~

A flash of green flashed across the screen, instantly grabbing my attention. I grinned proudly, throwing my arms around Fumi’s neck. With him standing at only five-foot-two, I was able to easily rest my chin against the top of his soft, feathery head. Come on, Zuku, show everyone how much you’ve grown!

“Woah! Midoriya?!” Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mineta chorused in disbelief.

“When could he do that?!” Kaminari exclaimed.

“Crazy… those jumps… he looks just like…”

A strong, angry aura rose around Katsuki as he stared at the screen, his hands shaking. I knew he wasn’t gonna take this well… I sighed deeply, turning my gaze back to the screen. Why’s he always gotta get all pissy every time Zuku makes the smallest bit of improvement? Zuku was jumping from pipe to pipe with ease, a strong green aura around his body. He’s doing so… well…

I sweatdropped when his foot slipped off the pipe, sending him flying to the ground. “Zuku, you fucking idiot…”

Fumi chuckled, patting my arm. “He almost took first place. His improvement is impressive.”

“And~ it’s over!” Toshi grinned as the group made it to him one after another. He handed over a sash to the winner, Sero, that said ‘Thanks for saving me’. Is this the fucking Miss USA pageant? “Thanks, hero, and congratulations!”

“Alright!” Sero put the sash on, a proud grin on his face while Ashido stomped her feet in annoyance.

Zuku was lying flat on his face, clearly distraught by his mistake while Iida kneeled beside him, “Uh, Midoriya, you’re okay, right?”

“Young Sero may have come in first, but compared to the start of the year, you all showed me some incredible improvements! Keep working and preparing for your upcoming final exams!”

My body stiffened. F-Final exams?! What? When the fuck are those? What’s on them? Is it a written exam? A fight? Oh Satan, I’m totally gonna fucking fail if it’s a written exam. I mean, I did pretty well on the entrance exam written test, but that’s only because Toshi gave me a crash course before the test! Now that I’ve been here for a while and been in class, there’s no way in hell he’ll help me again.

“Are you nervous?” Fumi questioned.

“What makes you think I’m nervous?” I muttered.

“You’re shaking me like a leaf in an Autumn breeze, Jen-san.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Fumi.” I released my grip, sending him a sheepish smile, which he returned with a warm one.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do well. Even if you don’t win the race, there’s no need to fret.”

“The race… right…” Fuck the race, I’m worried about the mother fucking exams!

“Group one, leave the field. You’re up, group two!” Toshi ordered.

Group two consisted of Kaminari, Fumi, Aoyama, Kyouka, and Shouto. Though it was a close one between Shouto and Fumi, Dark Shadow is just too damn powerful and adorable and Fumi ended up winning by half a second.

Group three consisted of Mineta, Katsuki, Sumo, Ochaco, and Shouji. It should be pretty fucking obvious that Kat won. He’s also still pissed off at me, if that glare is anything to go on.

Group four consisted of Kirishima, Toru, Mountain, Momo, and Tsu. Toshi decided to assign me to this group.

As we headed into the city, I threw my arm around Kirishima’s shoulder, earning a curious look. “You wanna try somethin’ with me, Kiri?”

He tilted his head. “What is it?”

“Let’s tie!” I grinned, holding up a finger. “I’ll carry you on my back while I race. Not only will we both win, but it’ll help me work on my strength.”

“I don’t know, Winchester.” He frowned, rubbing his arm. “There’s no way All Might would allow that.”

I clicked my tongue. “He never said it wasn’t allowed, did he? Besides, heroes are meant to work together to save people, right?”

He hummed, cupping his chin. “Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, let’s do it!”

“Cool. Go to your spot. As soon as the race begins, I’ll come nab ya, so be ready.”

“Got it!”

Kiri was sent to the top of an empty, circular tank while I started off on the ground. We ended up being on opposite ends with the rest of our group between us. Damn, I was hoping we’d be closer to each other. I’m gonna have to channel my inner Sanic for this one! I breathed out, squatting down as my blood began to boil within me.

“Are you ready~?” Toshi called. “Begin!”

I quickly turned my body to the left, launching myself into the air and propelling forward with flames beneath my boots. I could just faintly hear the murmurs of surprise from the class, but their words were just an illegible jumble from here. “Kiri!” I landed in front of him and he wasted no time jumping on my back. I pushed off the ground, running along the thick pipe connected to the tank.

“Yaoyorozu is in first place with Tsu close behind,” Kiri informed me, allowing me to focus on my footing.

I grinned, pushing my legs harder. “Not for long!” I jumped from the roof, using fire to propel my body forward. Come on, move faster! Kiri deserves to win! “Hey, Momo!” I yelled when I got close, startling her.

She was using a colorful parasail to fly through the air easily. Her head whipped around in surprise, eyes wide. “Jen, what -”

“Sorry!” My grin widened as I turned my body in mid-air so that my feet were slightly higher than my head. “Kiri, use harden!” I felt his weight increase on my back and I focused my power on my feet, large flames shooting from the bottom of my boots and propelling us forward like a mother fucking rocket. We shot past Momo, barreling straight toward a surprised Toshi.

Oh, wait… how the fuck do I land? My flames died and I reached out for the metal railing surrounding the roof, just barely managing to curl my fingers around it. Kiri lost his grip on me, shooting off my body and rolling across the rooftop. My body jerked backward as I flipped over the railing, my body hitting the roof and my fingers twisting painfully around the metal.

Okay… that could have gone a bit smoother…

Toshi was staring down at me in shock. No no, that’s fine. Don’t check on your students or anything to make sure they ain’t internally bleeding. I know I’m cool, Toshi, but get yo shit together, fam.

Momo landed between us, quickly unstrapping the parasail from her body, face covered with worry. “Are you two okay?”

Kirishima was on the other end of the roof on his stomach. He lifted his head with a grin, “That was… awesome!”

I was on my back, staring up at the azure sky as I lifted my hand to give her a thumbs up. “Totally tubular, yo.”

Momo smiled softly, shaking her head. “I can’t believe the two of you worked together like that.”

I forced myself into a sitting position, uncurling my fingers from the metal. They were throbbing but I don’t think they’re broken. I sent Toshi a grin, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Toshi finally snapped out of his shock, clearing his throat. “Congratulations young Jen, young Kirishima!”

Kirishima laughed happily, launching himself at me and wrapping his arms around my neck. I smiled warmly, ruffling his hair.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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[roommateofmyimagination-blog]

Chapter 9: Too many Bonding Exercises

✗ Adrian  ✗

“OH MY GOD, HE IS SO FUCKING HOT?” Val erupted with a muffled yell from the other room.

 I stood in the room naked as can physically be and as confused, shocked and embarrassed as i could ever be all in the same time. I just stood here staring at the door the Valentine just slammed shut after entering and leaving just as quickly.

 “What did he just scream?” Demyan sounded like he was crawling out of his drawer.

 “Uh that im so fucking hot….” I turned to look back at Demyan.

“Well, pup, you are naked and leaving nothing to the imagination.” He crawled up onto the top of my dresser. “Maybe it would be best if you proceeded to put on clothes and see if he is okay.”

 “Uuuuuh…..” I held my mouth open, not really knowing what to say.

 “Now, child.” Demyan squeaked at me and scratched on the wood of the dresser.

 “Uh,yeah!” i took a long stride to the dresser and grabbed clothes to put on. Tossing on a pair of boxers then stepping into my ripped jeans. “Think he’ll wanna talk after….that?” I looked down at demyan as i laced my belt through the hoops.

 “Hmmm, probably not.” he bounced onto the bed. “But you do need to head out, the others are waiting.”

 “Shut up, I know!” I threw on a loose gray v-neck on over my head. Grabbing my satchel off the ground and throwing it on. Opening the door i peered from behind to see Val hunched over with a pillow pressed to his face. “Yo cupcake.”

 “Ah!” Val dropped the pillow and stood up straight in a very jolt like manner. “Y-yes?!”

 “I uuuuh….” i scratched my head, “sorry about the whole….”

 “Uh, Yeah. I-its all good d-dude!” Val started waving his hands around then stopped and stared at me. His face turning the same color as his hair, “IM GOING FOR A RUN.” and he quickly turned on his feet and ran out the door, grabbing his things with him and Aero quickly ran out with him, sliding between the almost closed door with ease.

 I stood in the living space staring at the door with my mouth hanging open. I heard Demyan’s bare feet walking up behind me and i turned around to look at him. “I royally fucked up didnt i?”

“Yes.” He said flatly and very disinterested in what i had to say.

“Dude, bonding moment. Feel for me….” I shrugged and dropped my head down low.

Demyan walked up closer to me and put an arm around me, touching his head to mine. “There there, pup.” he patted my shoulder. “He will never look at you the same way again.”

 “You aren’t helping…..” I leaned my head onto his shoulder. “I dont want our semester to be awkward cuz he saw me naked….”

“Oh that is the least of your worries, child.” Demyan started stroking my hair. “You would be...how do you say it…...Up shits creek without a paddle, if he knew you were a villain.”

 “You suck at motivating people and cheering them up….” I glared up at him.

 “It is not my strong suit, you would be right.” Demyan chuckled lightly before rubbing my back. “Oh and was he not looking for something?”

 “I think so but i dont know what.” I stood up straight, Demyan’s arm still around my shoulders.

“Could it have been this?” He dug in his puffy pant’s pocket and pulled out what looks like Val’s phone.

 “Why do you have his phooooone?!” I snatched it from demyan. Demyan shrugged and just gave me a toothy smirk. “You are evil…..”

 “I know.” His grin got wider and he twitched his eyebrows up for a split second.

 “What were you doing with it?!” I smacked him on his head a bit.

 “I was curious on how those little box devices work. You communicate on them yes?” he looked down at the phone in my hand.

 “Yes, we do. They are called cellphones or Smartphones depending on what you have.”  I tilted the phone’s screen to see the finger marks on it, and tried to see if it would unlock his phone, which it did. The home screen was of his kitty Aero, laying on her back with her legs sprawled at and her fur all sorts of wild.

 Demyan moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my neck, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Interesting.”

 “Im going to call Karim to tell him Val doesnt have his phone.” I searched through Val’s text to see Karim’s name on top. Clicking on it I clicked the phone button. Putting the phone up to my ear, I looked back at Demyan. “You, quite okay?”

 “Of course.” He still clung to my back. 

“Sup Val.” a deep voice answered after a few rings, Karim did not have a deep voice...this must be Aj.

 “Uh, hey, its Adrian.” I scratched my head. “Val left his phone and i wanted to tell Karim of this.”

 “Oh Than-” Aj sounded like something nailed him and he made a grunting noise. “Val whats up.” He sounded like he moved the phone to the side. Val’s voice was kinda muffled in the background and he was talking really fast about something. “....Imma kill you adrian.”

 “What did i do!?” I yelled back , throwing my free hand up in the air.

 “VAL MY SWEET CHILD, WHAT HAPPENED!?” Karim’s voice sounded like it was getting closer and he was talking to Val who sounded completely upset.

 “You violated and scared my child.” Aj sounded very pissed off. “You didnt even touch him yet you violated the child!”

 “I didnt violate him! He came in on me naked!” I yelled back again.

 “Violated my child!!!” Aj yelled back at me in return.

 “Stop calling him your child!” I sighed in frustration. “If we have to, i will come over later and we can have a fucking come to jesus moment.” I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger.

 “You have a belly button piercing?” Aj asked, sounding actually curious now.

 “NO, its aaaaah.” I looked back at Demyan who just shrugged, “its one of those african waist training beads band chain things…”

 “Yeah, okay dude.” Aj started laughing.

 “Okay, whatever! Just tell Val he left his phone in the dorm and im leaving it on the living room table!” I yelled in frustration, “Bye!” and hung the phone up. Groaning loudly, i put my hands on my face.

 “Are you okay?” Demyan asked, still clung tightly around me.

 “No im pissed….” I pulled my hands down on my face.

 “Then training will do you some good today.” Demyan chuckled as he took the phone from me and let go of me and set the phone gently down on the coffee table. “Let us depart then.”

 “Yeah okay whatever.” I shrugged and let my shoulders slump down.

 Demyan walked up to me, one hand going around my waist as the other hand slid up my shirt, touching the charm on my waist chain. He pulled me in closer with a smirk. A cloud of black smoke engulfed us and when it was cleared out. We were out in the field we’ve usually practiced in. I looked down at my body and my leather suit was on as per usual.

 “Gonna let me go now?” I asked, looking up at Demyan.

 “Of course.” He let me go and i fell and hit the ground with a solid thunk.

 Landing straight on my ass, I looked up at Demyan. “You’re a dick…”

 Demyan floated above me, clutching his sides laughing and he brought his legs up making him look like he was in a hunched over position. “I am terribly sorry pup, but i thought it would be fun to surprise you.”

 Standing up, and rubbing my ass. Pointing a finger at him. “Just wait, one day i’ll learn to float and get you back for it!”

 Demyan raised a brow and lowered himself, getting into a position that would indicate he’s laying on his stomach at eye level with me. “I will be waiting patiently pup.” he smirked wickedly, running hand through my hair.

 “Hey look you’re early!” Pendragon’s voice rang from above us. He swooped down and landed beside me, kicking up a bit of dust from his wings.

 “Wheres Ryaikum?” I asked, looking over at Pendragon and leaning away from Demyan.

 ���Hes right here.” Pendragon dug into his coat and gently pulled out a bearded dragon lizard. “He gets lazy sometimes and makes me take us over here.” He bent down and placed the lizard down. A puff of teal-like smoke rose up and Ryaikum’s human form stood there, briefly naked before he snapped his fingers and clothes appeared on his body.  Ryaikum wasn’t fit like Demyan was but he was defined enough to made you wanna touch him.

 “Move aside boys!” Takeshi’s also came from above.

 Pen and I both looked up to see her coming down ontop of Us. Her hands above and behind her head and her legs bent under her like she just leaped off a high cliff. Pendragon and I both scattered to the sides so we werent landed on. More dust was kicked up from her landing, she stood up on her tip toes and bounced, turning around with her hands straight above her head.

 “Beat ya Lappin!” She cheered happily as Lappin come up beside her. He looked like he was running the whole while, he hunched over to catch his breath.

 “You two racing?” I asked.

 Pendragon started clapping, “nice superhero landing!”

 “Thank ya!” She turned and smiled at pendragon to her left, then turned to me on her right, “and we were, He challenged me to see how fast and far i can get with just jumping.”

 “Like a ninja?” Pendragon and I both asked at once.

 “Yes!” She smiled brightly. “He was going to see if he can beat me by running here and i took to jumping off tree limbs or rocks to get here.”

 “And she did great. Means she’s getting stronger.” Lappin stood up straight now, bringing his hand up to give Takeshi a high five and she returned the gesture with her own. “Are your students making progress?”

 “Pendragon is.” Ryaikum said.

“Oh, how so?” Demyan asked, now actually standing on the ground beside me, his hands behind his back.

 “He caught his dorms curtains on fire the other day, did you not?” Ryaikum looked at Pen with a very cocky smirk on his face.

 “I might have...yeah.” Pendragon scratched his bright red hair

 “I thought you couldn’t breath fire?” Takeshi asked,crossing her arms under her chest.

 “I cant thats the thing.” Pen perked up. “I didnt breath fire.”

 “Did you blow it out your ass?” I asked chuckling to myself.

 “No, but i wish. Thatd be scary after taco tuesdays.” Pendragon laughed too. “No its like this!” Pen held his fists up and fire engulfed his hands and arms up to about his elbows. “Wicked right?! My feet too!”

 “Oh my god, you’re like an anime character.” I stared at him, actually kinda amazed at that.

 “YOU’RE A LIVING NATSU AAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!” Takeshi hunched over and started laughing.

“YOU ARE!!” I started laughing myself.

 “I KNOW RIGHT???!!!!” Pendragon started bouncing on his feet like a happy child. “Fucking Ryaikum didnt get the reference so i made him watch a few episodes!”

 “Can you PLEASE Change your villain name now?!” Takeshi whipped her eyes from crying.

 “I AM THE GREAT DEMON LORD DRAGNEEL!!” Pendragon threw his arms in the air.

 Takeshi and I busted out with loud laughing. I started flailing my arms around and laughing while crying. Takeshi sat down on her knees putting her forehead on the ground as he laughed.

 “IM GOING TO PEE!!” Takeshi was laughed so hard she was really only crying now.

 I grabbed onto Demyan’s coat and put my face into his chest, laughing. “My abs hurt!”

 “You all are literal children!” a newer familiar voice sounded closer as feet crunched dead leaves as he came closer.

 “You dont get the reference dude.” Pendragon was laughing stupid hard himself.

 “Rule one, You must never reveal sensitive information about Fairy Tail to others for as long as you live.” Tsuyoi crossed his arms over his chest.

 “WE’RE ALL NERDS!!” Pendragon started bouncing and laughing more.

 Groaning  loudly through laughing, i let go of demyan’s little half jacket and pulled on my face and Takeshi started bouncing in a circle. Pendragon was hunched over and trying to stop his laughter. Tsuyoi looked at all of us, “you good?”

 “Yes.” we all said through tears.

 “Good.” He put a hand on his hip. “Hey, Demyan.” He turned his head to look at Demmy.

 “Yes?” Demyan smiled at him.

 “Mind if i take Drakul somewhere...alone?” Tsuyoi asked as he looked over to me.

 “Does Kenaz know of this request?” Demyan asked eyeing Tsuyoi questionably.

 “He does, and hes fine with it.” Tsuyoi answered without taking his eyes off me.

 Demyan also looked at me, then smiled, “yes, but do not kill him, i wish to keep him longer.”

“Thanks. Follow me vampy.” Tsuyoi turned then waved his hand for me to follow him.

 I looked back at demyan and he nodded me off. I ran up behind Tsuyoi and followed him deep into the forest. We didnt talk at all until we were in another opening. Not as big as our usual training area. Tsuyoi walked to the middle then turned to me. I stop just a couple of steps away from him.

 “Who are you?” He asked, glaring at me with sharp eyes. I could hear a faint growl coming from him.

 “Excuse me?” I asked, raising a brow at him.

 “Who are you when you aren’t Drakul. I didnt fucking stutter.” He sounded like he was getting progressively pissed off.

 “We arent all-” I was going to speak before a loud growl came from Tsuyoi.

 “Dont give me that shit!” His voice sounded like a tiger’s roar with how deep it was. “Something about you is pissing me off! You smell familiar….”

 “I smell...familiar?” I tilted my head to the side. “How?”

 “I have cat senses in me along with being strong, dumbass.” He was progressively growling louder and took a step towards me. Instantly i grabbed onto the hilt of my whip, keeping it on my waist and taking a half step behind me. Tsuyoi noticed this and smirked, showing large canine teeth, “Alright.” He purred win a deep throaty way, “if you beat me in a fight, I’ll leave you alone.”

 “And if you beat me, i have to tell you who i am.” I questioned him, getting into a more defensive position.

 “Exactly.” he purred loudly. He rolled his shoulders and his neck side to side, cracking his back and neck before his head lowered down and he started to get in that football position he’s usually in. His feet moving this time, like a cat’s when they are readying to pounce.

 Lowering myself, i slowly slipped my whip through its binding on my hip. Tsuyoi took a charge at me and i quickly bounced to the side to dodge his tackle. He turned just as quickly as i had moved and extended an arm at me to grab onto my arm. Flicking my whip up, it wrapped around his wrist. He looked at it briefly then looked at me, his lips turning upwards to a smirk. The arm that my whip was wrapped around, he swung his arm back behind him, pulling me and my whip forward and past him just a bit. Before i was flung too far away from him, he grabbed onto my hair and pulled me back by my hair. With his now free hand, he pressed his palm to my chest at the same time and let go of my hair with his other hand. A heavy weight on my chest forced me down and i could hear and feel the ground crumble underneath me as my body made a dent into the ground.

 Standing above me and straddling my body, Tsuyoi kept his hand on my chest. “Give up, bats. You can’t beat me.” he growled low.

 “Oh yeah?” I coughed up a bit of blood. Grabbing onto his wrist, Tsuyoi quickly pulled away from me, the weight on my chest disappearing, as he noticed the black ink creep up his forearm. Putting my hands behind me, I lifted my body up over my head and did a black flip to get back on my feet. “Seems like that scares you.”

 Tsuyoi shook his hand violently before looking at me with an intense glare. “Not as scary on my arm.” he growled and started running towards me. I got ready to dodge him again, Tsuyoi had a bad habit of just tackling you to the ground to get an advantage. Just before i was about to jump out of the way, Tsuyoi lowered his body so his hand was touching the ground and he brought his lower body off the ground, One of his legs slamming into my shoulder and sending me flying before he cartwheeled back onto his feet. “You aren’t the only one with new tricks!” He laughed loudly.

 My body slammed into a tree, my back hitting it hard and coughing me to cough up more blood from the impact. Sliding down the tree, i got into a squatted position before slowly sliding back up and standing, running my hand over my mouth.”you’re still wasting time before that ink gets to your eyes.”

 Tsuyoi looked at his arm that was now black up to his bicep. He looked at me with a smirk. “I still got time. I plan to knock you out, thatd make this come off right?” He growled slowly making his way towards me, and then picking up the pace again. He brought his fist up to punch me, closing my eyes and tensing up. I heard the sound of wood breaking behind me. Tsuyoi yelling in pain.

 I looked back behind me to see Tsuyoi’s hand wedged into the trunk of the tree. When he pulled his hand out, it had splinters in his hand and blood trickled down his fingers. “What did you just do?!” Tsuyoi growled loudly at me, almost a roar.

 Looking at him then back to my hands, my lips twitching up into a smile and starting to laugh, “oooohohohohoho. This is gonna be fun.” I started bouncing on my toes, looking back in front of me to see my whip just a few steps away from me.

 Tsuyoi turned to charge at me again, this time, i didnt close my eyes. Even with my eyes open, all i saw was black and i was a few steps away from Tsuyoi, squatted down and my whip back in my hands.

 A black smoke was dispersing around Tsuyoi who was looking confused as fuck. “Did you just poof?!”

 “I believe its called Teleporting, or blinking.” I smirked, standing up and snapping my whip in my hands. “And the ink is on your collarbone.”

 “I got time.” He growled low, his hand going behind him and under that pelt he wears around his waist.

 Flicking my whip in his direction, Tsuyoi whipped something out from behind him as well and between us, My whip wrapped around a chain with a knife like thing attached at the other end. We both pulled backwards, my whip and his chain tightening as we pulled and there was no slack between us.

 “You aren’t the only one who can fight at a distance.” Tsuyoi purred. “You forgot i had my Kusarigama.”

 “I thought you were all brute strength.” I chuckled, tugging backwards a bit.

 “I am.” He tugged as well. “And your fucked close combat.”

 “Not if i can blink away.” I yanked on my whip, to get the same reaction from Tsuyoi, who yanked back and made me slide closer to him.

 “Not if i catch you and knock you out, plus you dont seem to have much control over where you go, its wishful luck.” Tsuyoi yanked again.

 Lowering my body, i planted my heels into the ground to stop my sliding quicker. “You’ll go blind before then.”

 “If i have you in my hands, im not letting go.” Tsuyoi then yanked hard, launching my body towards him. Getting pulled upwards and forwards, I flinched and got my body to blink just above his head. Tsuyoi looked up quicker than i thought he would. Extending my hand down to his face, quickening the spreading of ink across his face. Just as i was reaching down at Tsuyoi, he reached up at me, grabbing my opened collar and pulling me down. That heavy weight back on my body.

My body felt extremely heavy this time around, my chest slammed into the ground below me. One of my arms was yanked around me and pressed to my back. Tsuyoi’s hand on my wrist, the other on my head as he sat on my legs.

 “I win, Drakul!” Tsuyoi growled from above me.

 “You’re blind!” I yell back at him, my face then pressed further into the ground.

 “Doesn’t matter! Your pinned under me,you arent blinking out of this one!” He got in closer to my face. “Plus if i wanted, i could crush your throat right here.” he growled into my ear.

 Snarling back at him, i relaxed my body and sighed, “fine.”

 “Will you tell me who you are when i let you go?” He asked, sitting up straight.

 I kept quiet for a moment, “yes….”

 “Good boy.” Tsuyoi let me go and moved off of my thighs.

 Turning around and getting on my knees, i reached for his face and touched his cheek. The black ink soaking up into my fingers and coming off his face and his arm. Tsuyoi blinked a few times, “thank you.”

 “No problem after you beat the shit outta me.” I grumbled and fell back onto my ass, looking down at my lap. “Will you tell me who you are?” I asked looking up at Tsuyoi, who sat cross legged.

 “Yeah.” He leaned back onto his hands. “Seems only fair.”

 Eyeing him briefly, I took in a deep breath. My body felt exhausted and i threw my head back a bit, closing my eyes and feeling all of my power and magical form fade away to how i was when i was just myself. Opening my eyes, i stared at the blue sky.  When i brought my head back to look at Tsuyoi, he was staring at me with a face of complete shock. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hung open. “My name is-.” I was cut off.

 Tsuyoi started laughing loudly, throwing his head back. The laugh actually seemed like a hearty one, then his body tensed up and he looked back at me with his brows knitted together. “Imma kill you.” he growled

 “Who- Wait, WHY!?” I scuttled back away from him. “What did i do?!”

 Tsuyoi started laughing lightly again. “Im kidding, adrian.”

 “How do you...know my name?” i looked at him, lowering my head to stare at him.

 Tsuyoi had a small smile on his face as his body changed slowly in front of me. The long hair became short and the primitive outfit of his changed to jeans and a tank top. I stared at him with the same look he stared at me when he saw who i was. “Yeah, i know, scary innit?”

 “AJ?!” I yelled at him. “WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!”

Aj let out a loud laughter for a third time and dropped his head in front of him. “I couldnt tell you before.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If i knew you were Drakul, i wouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

 “Does...Karim know?” I asked raising a brow at him. “You two are really close and you-”

 Aj held a hand up, his face turning from laughter to mild sadness. “No...Karim doesnt know. I….I hope at least.” he put his hand down. “As much as i love Karim, i could never tell him this.”

 “Understandable, he’d worry about you.” I mumbled, looking at the ground.

 “Does Valentine know?” He asked.

 “No.” I didnt look up from him, “i think if i told him something like that he’d change dorms or think im crazy.”  I started playing with my hair.

 “So.” Aj started chuckling, “what happened exactly earlier?”  I looked at the ground with wide eyes, my face heating up. I looked up to see Aj with a cocky smirk on his lips. “I already kiiiiiinda understand from val’s crying, plus imma punch you for making him cry by the way, but i wanna know your side of it.”

 “I was changing, he came in, saw me naked. Gawked at me like a mute chicken then kinda just left and screamed OH MY GOD HES SO FUCKING HOT!” i tried my hardest to imitate Val’s yelling.

 “That exactly?” Aj smirked, raising a brow.

“Yes, deadass.” I glared at him.

 “You still made him cry and i feel obligated to punch you.” He chuckled wickedly.

 “Does making me feel like one of my ribs are broken counter that?” I asked, holding my side.

 “Hmmm, yeah, but your ribs aren’t broken..” He smirked. Aj then stood up and dusted himself off. “Kenny, come on out, i know you’re there.” he looked back behind him.

 “Sorry~” a brightly colored Kenaz walked out from behind a tree his hands up by his head. “We wanted to watch.”

 “Demyan…” I groaned. And felt a pair of hands on my shoulders.

 “My pup.” He cooed in a weird way, “I am proud of you, you are growing so well.” Demyan put his head on the top of my head.

 “Why is it every time i learn something knew, its cuz Tsuyoi is trying to kill me…” I looked up at Demyan, bringing my head back to look at him. He moved his head off mine that when i looked back our noses were touching.

 “You needed the motivation.” he smiled down at me. Then pinched my face between his thumb and index finger on my cheeks, “Do remember my pup.” he spoke low but clearly. “Only Aj and Kenaz will ever know of this.” 

“Yeah yeah.” I mumbled looking away from him.

 Demyan pinched my face more. “Do i make myself clear?” he spoke like a father figure to me now, staring at me directly in the eyes.

 “Yes sir.” I growled back at him.

 “Dont be so harsh on him Demmy.” Kenaz spoke up, “this was Aj’s idea and i allowed it, i believe these two can trust each other, they do have some history with each other.”

 “Nothing against you, Kenaz.” Demyan let go of my face, “but you can see how i am cautious with this, given your…” Demyan trailed off.

 Kenaz purred, “No harm done friend!” Kenaz’s eyes looked sharp as he and Demyan stared at each other. The smile on Kenaz’s face was a very wicked looking feline smirk. His face lightened up quickly before he turned to look at Aj. “Lets go home Aj! Its still early enough, we have other errands to run do we not?” He asked.

 “Uh yeah.” Aj looked to Kenaz then back to me. “Ill see you around Adrian. Stay safe.” he said before Kenaz turned his back to us and snapped his fingers, causing Aj and himself to disappear in a blink of an eye.

 “Let us go as well.” Demyan spoke low again.

 “What about Takeshi and Pendragon.” I looked up at Demyan.

 “They trained together, similar to you and...Aj.” he paused to think of Tsuyoi’s actual name now. “You are all growing well and fast.”

 “Are we going back to the dorm?” I asked turning to actually face him so i wasnt straining my neck anymore.

 “No.” he smiled. Snapping both of his fingers black smoke wrapped around demyan and disappeared just as quickly as it came. The clothes on demyan changed from his usual black and gold arabian like clothing to modern clothing. He wore a tight fit black V-neck that hung just above his black skinny jeans that had a few holes and tears in them with black sneakers on. “How do i look?”

 “You’re really all one color.” I looked him up and down, “all black on black makes ya look like a theater ninja.”

 “What is that?” he looked like an interested child.

 Chuckling lightly. “Its people who do the prop moving and what not for plays.”

 “And they wear all black?” he asked again.

 “Yes, so you dont really see them.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Can you change your shirt color or pants to something lighter so you get broken up a bit?”

 “Hmm.” Demyan looked at himself. Then with another snap there was a black smoke around demyan again. This time the outfit changed to something very different in some aspects. He had on a washed out faded green tunic tank top that was cut out to show a lot of sides but he wore it under a then light gray varsity jacket over black skinny jeans which showed a bit of his knees tucked into black high-top shoes. “Is this better?”

 I eyed him up and down, nodding my head a bit. “yeah...I like it, ya look good.”

 “Do i look….So fucking hot?” He smirked at me with a cocky chuckle.

 “Yes yes you do.” I laughed lightly.”why the outfit change?”

 “Because we are going to hang out.” He said softly. Then had a small sad smile on his lips, “I...have not been to you like the others have been to theirs.” he paused for a second, “I am sorry for this.”

 I felt my shoulders slump a bit and i stared at Demyan. “Its alright, i was never mad at you, i just….felt like there was distance between us and you told me yourself if i wanna get stronger you and i have to get closer.”

 “That i did, and i never did hold up my end.” He touched my hair. “I have been treating you like a student, someone under me...not as your friend and partner.”

 “Then lets fix that.” I smiled at him. “How do you expect us to get somewhere though, we’re out in the woods.”

 “Simple.” He smiled and snapped his fingers together. Familiar black smoke wrapped around us before taking us to a dark and tight fit alleyway. “Hm.” Demyan hummed, “this is not what i was hoping for,”

 “Hmmmm” I hummed lightly. I got a nice view of Demyan’s collarbone and the top of his chest. Our bodies were close together with our backs both against a wall. “Im aight with this.”

 “Pup, stop.” Demyan chuckled and groaned at the same time, “you are making it weird.”

 “Its not weird unless you think its weird.” I smirked and looked up slightly at him. Demyan was looking down partially at me with a look of ‘Child do not test me.’ Laughing lightly, i scooted away from demyan and got out of the small alley way we ended up in, Demyan followed after me and fixed his clothing up when he was fully out of the tiny space. Pulling out my box of cigarettes from my pocket and sticking one in my mouth i offered the box to demyan.

 “No thank you.” He looked down at my hand. He didnt seem disinterested in the idea of smoking, but I dont think he was all really one for it.

 “Aight.” I put the box back in my pocket the pulled out my lighter and covered it with my other hand. Sliding the lightly back in my pocket. “So what do you want to do?”

Demyan seemed to forget i was beside him as he looked around him in wonder, “Demmy” I tapped his arm with the back of my hand.

 “Yes, adrian?” He looked down at my hand then back to my face.

 “Lets go get lunch or something. Aj made me hungry.” I waved my hand for demyan to follow me. Demyan stood close behind me but didnt speak much as he was just looking around at stuff as we walked. I finished my cig before I dragged him into a deli to eat lunch. He had no clue what he wanted to eat, so i just ordered a full length italian sub that id share with him and two drinks to go with.  A couple of girls whispered and giggled behind us, one of them saying something about Demyan. He turned his head and smiled at them with a small nod which made the girls giggle more. I groaned to myself as we were checking out and i was waiting to get my debt card back. Demyan proceed to grab my arm and dragged me outside to eat on the patio.

 “You’re such a fucking flirt.” I sat down across from him.

 Demyan was hunched over the chair, stopping midway from sitting down to stare at me. “Excuse me?”

 “I called you a flirt.” I sat down and started rustling in the bag our sub was in and opening the wrapper, spreading it across the table for us to both eat on. Demyan was sitting now, staring at me with a raised eyebrow, “The girls back in the line.”

 “Oh.” He perked up, “I do not believe i was flirting back there.”

 I stared at him with a raised brow. “Yes you were mr Smile and nod. Did you not hear their giggling.”

 “I did.” He reached over and took his half of the sub. “I was being polite, i could hear them talking about me….and you actually as well.”

 I leaned over the table. “Cmere” I whispered to him and demyan leaned in closer to me with a smirk on his face. “Im gaaaaaaaaaaaay aaaaaaaas fuuuuuuck.”

 “I understand that, Pup.” He chuckled and whispered back, “Does not mean women can not appreciate you and your looks.” He sat back up and leaned in his chair. “Why are you gay?”

 I stared at him with my brows knitted together. “Its….its not like its a flavor of the day type thing.”

 “Did i say something out of line?” Demyan tilted his head, thoroughly curious.

 “Not really, its….being gay wasn’t something i just kinda went ‘oh look, imma be gay cuz i wanna be’ type of thing.” I paused and poked at the bread of my half. “Its just kinda how i am. I tried dating girls but i wasnt attracted to em. Realized i was gay when I had a fling with a guy and liked it.”

 “A fling?” Demyan asked, his mouth partially full of a sandwich bite.

 Chuckling, “A one night stand?” Demyan still looked at me a confused look. “Touchy feely, the nasty, doing the naughty, Whoopie...Buggery.” I spoke in a very british accent for the last one.

 Demyan choked on his food when he started laughing at the last word. He thumped on his chest and finished his laugh, “you mean sex yes?” he asked with a slightly cough in his throat.

 “What did you think i was talkin about?” I took a bite of my half.

 “I do not understand all of your slang, pup. I only got it when you said, “ Demyan paused and sat very posh like, “buggery” he made his own British accent.

 I dropped my sub back down on the paper and put a hand on the table, looking away and trying not to laugh and spit my food out as well as not fucking choke on it. When i was all calm and composed again i turned to see Demyan with a very cocky look on his face. “Fuck you dude.” I  gave him a quick middle finger to go with.

 Demyan seemed very pleased with himself. “But thank you for explaining it, pup.”

 “Soooooo.” I leaned in closer to Demyan.

 “Hm?” Demyan turned his head slightly and raised his brow.

 “What are you attracted to?” I smirked before taking a sip from my cup.

 “Women.” He answered bluntly.

 “Damn it.” I leaned back and slumped in my seat. Demyan chuckled and eyed me. Sitting back up, “nah i figured you were straight. A girl you’re interested in?”

 “Was...interested in.”  Demyan’s voice lowered a bit and he looked away.

 “Are still interested in?” I asked,nodding my head slowly. Demyan was quite and still not looking at me exactly. “Yeah, you’re still into her.”

 “I am….” he mumbled, a slightly blush on his tanned cheeks.

 “Tell me about her.” I put my elbow on the table and rested my cheek in my palm. “We got all day mr love struck.”

 Demyan finally looked at me then sighed heavily. “She is like me of course, but pure….white. The opposite of me actually.” his voice grew softer. “She is extremely beautiful, so much that she is ethereal.” a smile twitched onto his lips. “She is so sweet, kind, smart, talented and so good that she should have been born a goddess. She is too perfect for my world….and i feel deeply in love with her.” His face then saddened and his voice dropped a bit. “But she was...Is a princess and i am not in any way a candidate of being a suitor to her. Yet we still managed to be together in secret.” he started to smirk, “we would sneak out during times we should not have, left our kingdoms behind us and our world was just the two of us wrapped in each other's arms.” Demyan ran a hand through his bangs, pushing them back and smiling with a small chuckle. “We were terribly in love with each other, and i hope if...and when i return home maybe...just maybe i will see her again and she will still feel the same way i do to her.”

 Holding my straw in my mouth i stared at Demyan. “Uuuuh.” I let go of my straw and straightened up, “what broke you two apart? If you dont mind tellin me that is.”

 “We were found out.” He had a sad smile on his face. “I was forbidden to see her ever again, i was kept under lock and check. Someone followed me everywhere i went, they believed me to be a spy essentially, but i was just a young man who loved a woman who was my goddess.” He scratched the back of his head, “I do not know what happened to her. I never got the chance to find out for i was sent to training to become a Magicae Socius and eventually sent to your realm.” he sighed loudly, “thus how you and i met, when you found me,”

 “So your romeo and Juliet who didnt kill themselves?” I asked setting my cup down.

 “I do not know that reference.” he stared at me through squinted eyes.

 “I’ll buy ya a copy of the play, you can read it on your free time.” I chuckled lightly before playing with my hair. “Im sorry about that though man.” Demyan looked at me with a softened face and slightly confused, “I hope you can meet her again and be with her some day.”

 Demyan smiled softly at me, his eyes the softest ive ever seen them be. He looked so moved by what i said that he could cry, his voice was low and soft as well. “Thank you, Adrian.”

 “Of course man.” I smiled at him a bit. “I dont experience the same problem like you, but i feel ya.”

 “Are you not allowed to be with someone you love?” he asked, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table.

 “No not like that exactly, i dont love someone outside my family.” I twirled my hair on my finger. “For a long time though, Homosexual people werent allowed to marry.” Demyan looked at me with a slightly tilted head. “It was horribly frowned upon.”

 “And now?” He asked, his chin rested on his hand.

 “Its legal cross the country.” I smiled, “it was a huge moment for the community.” I felt my chest kinda tighten for a second. I remember the moment when i learned that it was legalized. I was at home and my mother came running into my room shouting my name and crying happily, she explained the news to me. I remember how i screamed in happiness and threw my arms up, my mouth hugging me and bouncing with me. Later that night my brother and sister came over and hugged me tightly as well. My brother and sister were both straight, but they were allies and were mostly just happy for me. My father wasn’t all bouncing and tears but he smiled at me and gave a hug that night as well.

 “So you can marry a man now if you wished?” Demyan had a soft smile on his face.

 “Yeah,but im not marrying any time soon.” I leaned in closer to him, “Cuz im not the only person they’d be marrying.”

 “Who else?” Demyan looked at me with confusion written all over his face,

 “YOOOOOU!” i leaned back and laughed, “you and i are a packaged deal buddy.”

 “Not if our contract breaks.” He leaned back, chuckling himself.

 “Do you plan to break it?” I asked.

 “Of course not.” he smirked.

 “Then you and be are like PB and J, bitch.” I got up and grabbed our trash to throw away.

 “I will take that as a good reference, yes?” he stood up.

“You learn fast.” I smiled up at him, then pulled out my phone. “We should head back to the dorm, i do have homework.”

 “That is fine by me.” Demyan smiled at me, then looked around us. “I will change when we are alone.” he walked in front of me off the patio.

 “That sounds kinky.” I looked at his back with a smirk.

 “Maybe i meant it that way.” Demyan looked back at me with a smirk then winked at me.

 “DID YOU WINK AT ME?!” I yelled, throwing my cup violently into the trash.

 “Maybe, what are you going to do,” Demyan paused and his smirk turned wicked, “Bitch.” he spoke in a very low deep voice.

 “IMMA KILL YOU!” I sprinted towards demyan who ran away from me.

 Demyan weaved through the minor crowd of people with grace and ease. Me on the other hand, not at all. I didnt run into anyone completely but i wasnt able to move like fucking running water like he was able to. Demyan would look back at me frequently to make sure i was still following him. I grabbed onto his varsity jacket that he was wearing, pulling it down off his upper arm. Demyan pulled his arms out of it and spun around to give me a cocky smirk before turning back around. I looked at the jacket then viciously shook it, tying it around my waist. The tank top that demyan had on showed a sinful amount of his back and chest to the whole world. How he ran so fast in skinny jeans was beyond me too, but he must feel light as a fucking feather compared to those puffy pants he wears so often.

We eventually made our way back to the campus on this wild chase. Demyan stood in front of me, his hands on his hips and his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing. I ran up next to him and fell backwards onto my ass, throwing my head back and leaning back on my hands, breathing heavier than demyan.

 “Twas a good work out, was it not?” Demyan looked down at me with a cocky smile.

 “Shut. the.Fuck.UP.” I huffed and showed him my middle finger.

 “Do you need help, pup?” He asked and held out his hand.

 “You owe me!” I took his hand and he helped pull me up.

 “Of course.” he chuckled lightly.When i was up on my feet again, he looked around and smiled. Black smoke wrapping around his body and there was his little bat form flying in front of my face. He flew closer to me and touched his little head to my forehead. “I enjoyed today.”

I smiled and chuckled lightly, still out of breath. “Yeah, same.”

“Thank you adrian.” He then flew into my pocket, when i looked down i noticed that the jacket i had wrapped around me was gone.

“No problem, lets do it again sometime, aight.” I slowly walked up the stairs to the third floor. My thighs fucking burning from the run demyan and i just had. I leaned against the wall beside the door the lead to the apartment Val and I shared.”never again am i chasing after you.” I sighed heavily, taking some deep breaths. Opening the door, i peered in to see if Val was in the living space. No brightly haired ginger, and it was silent in the apartment. “Must not be home.”

I walked in and closed the door gently behind me. I felt gross and sweaty and tired. I tied my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head and headed to the bathroom. I opened the door not too eruptly but quick enough that what i saw before me was not what i expected. 

Wet bright red hair clung to porcelain white skin. His skin looked so soft, smooth, and delicate as fuck. That if i were to touch him, I’d just break the poor kid, or worse dirty up that beautiful perfect white skin. How did he not have scars or fucking anything, didnt even have freckles, he was just white as fuck like he was carved from Marble. His torso was not defined like mine was, but he had beautiful swoops and curves that showed he was fit enough yet unimaginably flexible. His thin arms hung beside his body as i trailed down to look at one his cock that was actually not bad to look at, but holy shit his thighs. I wanna touch his thighs, they just look so fuckin nice. His body was a whole canvas that i wanted to dirty with kisses, hickies and hand marks... but his thighs were something i just wanted to kiss up and down on. Leave scattered kisses, hickies and bite marks on his inner thighs, hide a mark or two on the back of his thighs or behind his knees. I slowly trailed back up to look at a prominent collarbone that had water trickling down and rolling down his torso. His neck was framed by wet hair that clung to the skin, when i reached his face. His lips were parted just enough and his face was as bright red as his hair, his eyes wide with shock. I looked him dead in the eyes, and i could feel my own face heat up and my lips twitch into a smile. Fuck i must look crazy as fuck right now.

I held up a finger, my mouth parted wide open and my other hand holding the bathroom doorknob. I was just kinda opening and closing my mouth before i pursed my lips together and felt my brows come together and a very loud “HMMMM.” came from behind my closed mouth and i backed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. I felt Demyan shift around in my pocket and little giggles coming from him.

A weird sounding giggle came from my mouth, that was louder than i had wanted it to be and I walked to the sofa and grabbed a throw pillow off of it and covered my face.  “Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!” I started chanting very loudly, “GODDAMNIT, i wanna fuck his body up!” I yelled into the throw pillow and hunched over, squatting down onto the floor.

[archergwenwrites]

The One With(out) a Super-Villain

“‘I don’t give a shit if I’m a supervillain, I can and will arrest you for flying while drunk; maybe I can’t put you in jail but I will absolutely tie you up in my lair until you sober up’ ‘It’s the anniversary of the worst day of my life, drinking numbs the pain and flying clears my mind, I’d like to ask you from the bottom of my heart to fuck right off’ for zutara pls”

Oh sweet anon, you gave me an idea for a love square. I will have to resist fleshing it out until The One with Cultural Differences is complete.

“Let me go!”

The words were a tad slurred and without any force. Did she fling a couple punches at him? Bat at his face like a stunningly inebriated cat? Yes. Would she probably have destroyed the face of anyone else? Also yes. Didn’t stop him from cradling her like the most precious of puppies and carting her off, on the ground and safe. He smirked as she continued to protest, words she had snapped at his civilian self ages ago floated to the forefront of his mind. “Not a chance, Painted Lady. I have a duty of care.”

“Asshole, you’re a supervillain.” She giggled. “My supervillain.”

She tried to wiggle away again - lady was water, appropriately enough, as she tried to sink out of his hold - so he tossed her a little to adjust and tighten his grip. Her one arm tightened around his neck while the other clutched at her hat - as if they both didn’t know that was more secure than the bank vaults. Still, the bit of air she got made her veil flutter, and he could catch glimpses of her delicately painted cheeks.

Too bad her eyes were a bit dulled by drink rather than alight with battle fury or passion or care.

“I don’t give a shit if I’m a supervillain, I can and will arrest you for flying while drunk; maybe I can’t put you in jail, but I will absolutely tie you up in my lair until you sober up.”

Her laugh was the darkest, saddest thing he’d ever heard from her lips. “It’s the anniversary of the worst day of my life. Drinking numbs the pain and since flying clears my mind, I’d like to ask you from the bottom of my heart to fuck right off.”

“My Lady,” he began, unsure, and in that moment of weakness she wiggled free, stumbling towards a wall.

“You,” she said with a wild point in his general direction. “You should take your inexplicable care, and your warm body, and your fantastic arms-” She trailed off, briefly losing her train of thought. She caught it again, signaled by another wild wave of her pointing hand. “Take all that and just fuck off back to your secret lair and leave me and my best friend Jack Daniels alone.”

He kicked opened the door next to her. “But won’t you come in and join me in said lair?”

She blinked, stunned. “Holy shit. This is your lair.”

“I never knew the greatest waterbender of our age had such a mouth,” he replied, steering her into the door and to a couch. He tried to leave her to get water, but she pulled him down next to her. Certainly not what he’d had in mind the numerous times he’d imagined joining the Painted Lady on a couch. Plus, he’d always imagined it in his apartment which had a couch much nicer with no coffee stains.

“Do you actually live here? I’ve never seen this part.”

He flushed as she threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer to her. “That’s because this is where I patch myself up so I don’t get blood in my apartment. When I finally leave, I want my security deposit back.”

“Another reason to bring me here. If I throw up, it’s in a more run down place.”

“Why do you assume my place is better than this?”

“You always have funds for those crazy schemes. Makes since you’d have a better place to crawl back to when I’m done kicking your ass.” She took a breath, face twisting briefly, then continued, “ you do know all those schemes end up helping people, right? After we strip away your over-dramatic doom names and brighten the colors, they better people’s lives.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god!” She twisted suddenly, hands on his shoulders pushing him into the couch as she came to straddle him, staring down into his theatrical mask. “Are you a supervillain trying to do good?” The rice whiskey on her breath was nearly strong enough to intoxicate on its own, or perhaps that was the nearness of her. “Why don’t you? Just add a bit of color to your costume, take off that scary mask and-”

Before he could react her fingers were curled around the fanged mask and then it was on the floor. She pouted, her whole weight resting on his thighs, when the unveiling just revealed black cloth over his face. Only his amber eyes started out of the black, the eyes surrounded by black makeup he was very careful applying each time he left as the Blue Spirit.

He gestured to those same eyes that let the world knew he bent fire. “I’m Fire Nation, aren’t I? No one would let me close enough to help. Supervillain is what they expect, so villain I will be.”

“Still, the black mask underneath is a bit much.”

“The Avatar and the Blind Bandit have knocked it off before; you’re just too polite. I am... very recognizable. We’ve even met when I was out of costume.”

“Oh. Well how am I supposed to kiss you?”

His brain misfired, and he may have missed a heartbeat or two. “I’m sorry, what? Did you just, I, what?”

“That’s what’s supposed to happen right? The drunk, hurt heroine is comforted by the anti-hero-” Her fingers bunched the fabric around his shoulders. “-confessions are shared, they kiss-”

His hands found her waist, and with a quick abuse of physics he tossed her to the couch and disentangled himself, making a beeline for the small kitchenette. “Like you said, Painted Lady, you are drunk. I, just, you, I don’t want,” he broke off unsure as the faucet stuttered to life.

“You don’t want me?”

“No!” He almost broke the glass in his hand with the strength of his emphatic cry. “No, I, I do, just-” She looked at him from underneath the brim of her hat, and there was a confused hurt he ached to wipe away. “You’ll regret it if you kiss me now, and despite being your sworn enemy I couldn’t bear to add a regret to your life. You look much better when you hate me then when you’re sad.”

He handed her the glass of water from a full arm’s length away and retreated when she took it with a grateful “thank you.” She had two glasses before he was satisfied.

“Don’t leave?” she asked as he bent for his mask. Her face was so hopeful and voice so plaintive that he sighed.

I am so fucked. “Sure.” He tucked her in with one of the less ratty blankets. He tried to make for the recliner, but she scooted enough to give him room to sit, looking at him until the guilt became too much. He sat down in the curve of her waist, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a valiant effort, my lady, but I won’t fit.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not.”

“It’s the first anniversary of my mom’s death that I don’t have my dad or brother around. They’re traveling for work, so yeah, I kinda am alone.” She paused. Breathed. “Sorry, that came out bitchier than I expected. It’s just easier for them. They didn’t see the guy’s face. They didn’t watch her die.”

He remembers a minion slinking into his father’s office, announcing the death of the last Southern Waterbender. He remembers his face when the Painted Lady appeared, and every one knows the Northern benders wouldn’t deign or dare to play on Sozin turf.

He squeezed her shoulder. “I am so sorry.”

“She died because of me. He was after the last waterbender in the South, and she said it was her. She calmly told me to get Dad; he repeated her, mocking, and put a fist of fire in her face.” A sob wracked her body. He pulls her close, wrapping her in his arms as if he can make the pain go away. “I will find him, one day, and I will face him. I will make sure he’s sorry.”

The brim of her hat pressed into his good cheek as his hands pressed into her back. “I know you will. He will know the weight of what he did.”

He murmured platitudes into her ear and rubbed circles into her back until the sobs abated and her muscles relaxed. He gently laid her back down, humming one of his uncle’s lullabies, and was satisfied to see her drifting to sleep, hands adjusting her hat just so.

He stretched out on the recliner, even as she made soft noises of complaint as he left her side. While he left his black mask on, he went ahead and removed his boots and gloves. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept in his gear, and probably not the last. With that depressing thought, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

Katara woke in the middle of the night disoriented and confused. Her head was spinning, and her room was so grey - no, not her room, part of the Blue Spirit’s lair. She sat up as the memories roared back to her, fumbling for the glass of water he’d no doubt refilled for her. She glanced at the recliner, where he lay curled up tight, back pressed to a seat so the minimum of vulnerability was exposed.

Head and heart ached as she stood and tottered over to him. He still had the mask on, and with the paint he applied even to his eyelids it was hard to make out the proportions of his face in the dark. His hands, though, were free, and curled into fists to match the rest of him. She ran a finger along the hand on top and made a hungover wish to touch more of his skin one day.

Carefully, she guessed at his temple and pressed a kiss there. Ridged skin pressed back under the cloth.

“I’m very recognizable,” he’d said, and she’d assumed he was someone famous. She thought of the numerous people with facial scars she’d seen, and wondered who could be so brave as to don a mask, convince people to hate him, all in the name of bettering their lives.

“Whoever you are,” she whispered in the night, the moon high. “I think I could love you.”

Moonlight sped her home.

And if she spent a little less time on revenge and a little more on ways to bring the Blue Spirit to her side, that was no one’s business but hers.

[shockcity]

DD #2 - orbiting planet matt

Rating: T 

Summary: attempts at befriending Matt Murdock fall rather flat.

Category: gen

Warnings: none

*denotes dialogue taken directly from the comics, and in this case all quotes belong to Bendis.

__________________________

1

“Are those for me?” Peter asks, mask turned toward the greasy bag of chili dogs. “It’s not my birthday.”

“It’s not mine either.” Matt grins at him. “Yet here you are.”

Peter climbs down from the flag pole and lands agilely next to the man in red. His stomach is grumbling. The hot dogs are from Joe’s, he thinks. “Joe’s?” he inquires.

“Joe’s,” says Matt. “Only the best.”

Peter is rummaging through the bag cheerfully until he remembers exactly who he’s talking to. He pauses and looks up, and Matt shrugs a little and says, “I need information.”

He’s not surprised, but he is a little hurt.

“Right,” he mutters, pulling up his mask so he can take a large bite of his chili dog. It’s delicious – Matt sure knows how to bribe a guy. “What’s up?”

“Heard you tangled with Mysterio recently,” Matt begins, and they talk shop for a bit as Peter inhales his food and quietly wonders if Matt ever takes a day off.

He’s certainly very dedicated, and Peter admires that dedication; Matt gets the job done. But he’s definitely a lone wolf for good reason, because working with Matt is not anyones idea of fun. Like at all. Ever.

For example: Peter will say, “right, let’s make a plan” and turn around and find Matt already beating on people. Or Peter will try to deescalate a situation – “there’s no need for violence,” he’d say, and instead Matt would be like, “fight me.”

It was exhausting.

And while civilians liked to call Matt the man without fear, most of the superhero community thought he was more like the man without tact.

“Thanks,” Matt says when he’s picked Peter’s brain to his satisfaction. He perches on the edge of the building, ready to swing back to Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey,” Peter calls out before he can vanish. “I heard about Foggy.”

Matt tenses.

“How is he? How are you?”

Peter waits, and waits. And waits. Matt is silent and still, hanging on the edge of a skyscraper. He doesn’t turn to Peter and say, “yeah, thanks buddy,” or “yeah man, I’m wrecked” like a normal guy.

Instead he says, “I’ll be seeing you,” and disappears.

Peter likes that Matt makes his little blind jokes and knows that he’s a sucker for Joe’s chili dogs. Peter admires the mortal man that jumps off buildings and takes on ninjas and super soldiers and psychopaths. More than once, he’s wanted to be like Daredevil – fearless, honorable, persistent. Peter has known Matt Murdock for years; has fought with him, laughed with him, and mourned with him. He considers Matt his friend.

He just wishes he was sure it was mutual.

________

2

Luke finds Matt using a dumpster to prop himself up as he clutches his ribs. The ninjas are looming at the end of the alley, wary of fighting both Power Man and Daredevil. At least for now, anyway.

“Need help, Murdock? Looks like you could use a hand.”

Luke spends too much time with Danny, and he’s forgotten that Matt doesn’t have a sense of humor.

“What are you doing here?” Matt snaps, straightening with a wheeze. “I had it under control.”

He raises his hands up in mock defense. “I was only asking if you needed help, man.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Luke glares at him, despite the fact Matt won’t see it. “Yeah, alright. You get creamed by those ninjas and I’ll just stand here and watch. No skin off my back.”

“What are you doing here?”

He frowns. “I was looking for a friend…thought maybe we could help each other.”*

“I don’t need your help. Go back to Harlem.”

“Check your tone, man,” Luke warns him, frustrated, but after a moment he sighs. “C'mon, Matt,” he says.

Matt blows him off. “I’m fine. I’ve got this. I don’t come into your city and tell you how to do your job. What are you even doing in Hell’s Kitchen? Damn it!”

The ninjas have decided to attack while they are both distracted, and despite Matt’s snapping, he does need Luke’s help. They make quick work of it and then turn and face each other warily.

“Thanks,” Matt says, because he likes to be frustrating.

Luke looks at him and wishes he could write off Daredevil completely. They never get along – if it’s not Matt going off on Luke it’s Luke going off on Matt. They just don’t mesh. Jessica says it’s because they’re a lot alike. Luke thinks she’s crazy, but he loves her anyway.

“Whatever, man,” he mutters, peeved, and Matt turns and walks away.

Luke doesn’t call him back, even though he wants to. There’s a part of him that wants very much to be friends with Murdock, if only because he admires his strength. He’s not got powers like Luke, and he’s sure as hell not bulletproof, which makes Matt going out there and taking on villains that much more impressive. Luke can respect that.

“Whatever, man,” he says again, but he is talking to no one. Matt is gone.

He bets Murdock hears him anyway.

__________________

3

Danny doesn’t want to deal with Matt tonight. He feels bad for thinking it, but sometimes Matt is just, well…

Matt.

“You eat too much yakisoba.”

FYI, he thinks sarcastically, Daredevil knows private things about the general status of your body and is not afraid to use it.

“Please,” Danny groans. “I’m in pain.”

“You have indigestion, Danny,” Matt points out pitilessly. “Your blood pressure is off the charts. Have you considered eating something outside of the staple diet foods of a college freshman?”

He hates Matt, but he’s also amused by him because life sucks. “Master Izo eats it too,” he argues.

“Izo is also in my kitchen drinking grain alcohol.”

Danny only moans.

Matt sighs and walks out of the living room, leaving him to languish on the sofa. He’s tired of Izo’s stupid mission and Matt’s endless drama with the Hand. He wishes they would lay off Matt for once, and then maybe Matt would lay off him. It’s not very likely though, because he’s pretty sure Matt lives to judge people. Not to say Matt’s a bad guy, he’s just, well…

Matt.

“Here,” he says, startling Danny a little. “Try this.”

In Matt’s hand is a steaming cup of tea. Danny can smell lemon and honey and ginger, and his stomach gurgles hopefully. He takes the cup and sips at it, feeling the warmth travel down his throat and into his upset stomach. He sighs with relief.

“Thanks, Matt,” Danny tells him, smiling.

Matt smiles back.

“Sure,” he says. “But you really need to change your diet.”

He hates Matt so much.

_____________________

4

He left her for last.

It was infuriating and hurtful, and being infuriating and hurtful is something that Matt Murdock is very good at. It’s one of his worst character flaws, for sure.

He also has a lot of weird problems that Jessica just doesn’t have time for, and hang-ups she’s really not sure she wants to know about. But one of the things she doesknow about him, without a doubt, is that he’s freaking nuts.

But that’s not all, and Jessica was in the mood to shit talk, so:

First, there is no reason for all that self-flagellation.

“You need to get over yourself, Murdock,” she’d say. “Or just end it.”

This proved to be counterproductive, because Matt would then just whine about how Jessica was right; he was a horrible person, he didn’t deserve to live… blah blah blah. He wouldn’t even whine in the literal sense and show just a little weakness like a real human. Murdock had perfected the art of silent martyrdom. He lingered in the shadows in the rain on your roof, thinking about sacrifice and justice while regular people did their taxes and ate microwave dinners.

Fucking Matt Murdock.

Second of all, and most importantly – he was obviously crazy and needed help. Jessica liked to think she knew a lot about being fucked up, especially by traumatic shit. She had trust issues, and addictions, and nightmares. People had just really screwed her over in general. So she got Murdock more than most. Life had taken a huge shit on him, no mistake, and it didn’t seem to be getting any better. She felt bad for him, really, she did.

But he was also fucking crazy.

The whole dressing like the devil and beating the crap out of people was the first clue. Second was his extreme self-loathing. Jessica had thought she was self-destructive, but this guy was a mess.

Then there was the mood swings, and the general brooding sadness wafting off of him even on the good days. Murdock just really took the cake in the crazy competition.

Thirdly, lastly, finally:

It was unfair but despite all his flaws, Matt was actually very likable. In a way. Sort of. Jessica thought it was more like magnetism, or gravity (to the unfortunate bastards orbiting Planet Matt, she thought, good luck fuckers, have fun being pelted with comets made up of depression and guilt).  

When out of that scary suit (and holy shit was it fucking scary when he was looming at you in a dark alley threatening you with severe bodily harm), Matt dressed as a fancy, charming, smooth-talking lawyer that was stupidly attractive. She could admit that he wasn’t bad looking without embarrassment, because Jessica wasn’t blind. Unlike some people.

If you were unlucky enough to meet the Matt outside of both suits, then it was absolutely impossible to hate the guy no matter how much you wanted to. Jessica had once asked Nelson about the over-large hoodies and fuzzy socks, and all he’d done was groan.

The fact that Matt was so endearing made it hard to be angry with him.

“Fuck, Murdock!” she was currently screaming. “Everybody knows but me! Everybody fucking knows!”

Luke is standing in the corner looking zen. Matt is unintimidated because fuck him.

“You can’t say, ‘Hey, by the way, Jessica, being that you’re putting your life on the line for me, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I am, in fact, the vigilante known as Daredevil’?”*

“I’m Daredevil,” Matt says.

Jessica curses the day she met his stupid ass because Matt fucking Murdock is a headache she never asked for.

But got anyway. Fuck.

______________

5

There’s a chance she’s making a mistake. She’s got so many complicated exes that whenever she approaches one it’s always bound to go south eventually, so logic says that Natasha should avoid all of them. Or at least the ones she doesn’t work with.

But Matt is different. He’s always been different.

“You’re losing your touch, Murdock,” she jeers, melting out of the shadows as Matt startles. “You – ugh. Really?”

He definitely knew she was there. He’s a terrible actor, and he’s teasing her. This is a good sign, Natasha thinks, because when Matt’s sense of humor is healthy, it means he’s relatively healthy, and when he smiles like that it means he’s genuinely happy to see her. She’s timed this visit right, because sometimes he can’t stand company, and Natasha gets that.

She’s like that too.

“Are you just visiting or is this Fury?”

“Just visiting,” she says. “And maybe a little Fury. He’s not concerned with you right now, but he’s annoying me lately so…. Plus I had some PTO.”

He grins at her. “You know, you’re the only partner I ever really tolerated.”

“I know,” she smiles back.

They go out that night and beat up the low-lifes of Hell’s Kitchen. They dance together, as they’ve always done. His body is lithe and beautiful; twisting and turning in the sky as they swing from one corner to the next in both shadow and moonlight. Natasha loves this. Loves him. She always will.

After they fight, they have wine and leftover Thai on his living room floor in the early hours of the morning.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asks when he is silent for too long.

He hesitates. “I missed you,” he admits. “I missed this.”

She did too. “You could partner up,” she suggests, knowing he’ll refuse. Matt has only ever worked well with Natasha or Elektra. Everyone else expects him to be someone he’s not.

He doesn’t even say no; he just raises his eyebrows.

“'Tasha,” he begins, after shuffling through his noodles a bit. “Do you ever wish you’d stayed in San Francisco?”

“Yes,” she says immediately. “All the time.”

“Even with me?”

Life is unfair. Natasha thinks about how unfair it is and normally she just laughs. No one escapes misery, least of all the Black Widow. She is born for it, thrives in it, expects it wherever she goes. Misery and unfairness are old, old friends.

But when she thinks about what life did to Matt, she’s angry. People don’t get her, don’t understand her desire for solitude and difficulty with feelings. They ask her why she doesn’t care more, and, if they happen to really hate her – how she sleeps at night. They judge. They think she looks for love in all the wrong places. That she can fight well but can self-destruct better.

Everyone that meets Natasha has something to say.

But not Matt. They are ex-lovers. Sometimes they backslide and fall into bed together; sometimes she comes to him and holds him and listens to his soft breathing and steady heartbeat. They separate and join; separate and join. Two halves of a whole.

He is her friend, her confidante, her essential part. They don’t need to see each other everyday, hell, they might meet years from now and still be the same. Still close. Matt is something special to Natasha.

So when people don’t understand him – when they ask him to be a hero, as well as a perfect friend, a perfect spouse, a perfect man – she’s so angry. She’s furious. It’s unfair.

Solve your own problems, she wants to say. Leave him alone.

When they tell Matt that he brings trouble, that he involves them in bad things, that he frustrates them and makes being around him difficult, Natasha wants to beat them. Beat them dead.

So quit, she wants to yell. Why stick around and be unhappy? You’re hurting him. You don’t understand him. Go away.

But also: Don’t go. You’ll kill him if you go.

Sometimes life is unfair, and then sometimes some people just aren’t meant to be happy. Natasha and Matt are cursed with rotten luck. They ruin lives about as much as they save them.

But they love each other.

“Okay?” she asks, sitting on his floor barefoot with the moon as her only light.

“Okay,” he says, with his eyes closed.

___________________

6

Murdock fights like he’s dying. Like he’s been diagnosed with an incurable virus or terminal cancer or some shit. It’s one of those illnesses that makes him rabid before he dies – before he goes cold, turns white, and falls down dead. He’s seen it before. He’s known those men that live on the edge, but they damn well don’t live on it long.

A part of him feels like he’s bleeding out when Murdock pulls this shit.

“Choirboy, you’re so goddamn stupid,” he tells him. His gun is somewhere in the wreckage. The roof had fallen on them and it had gone flying along with the rest of Frank as Murdock tackled him to safety.

“Shut up, Frank. We need to get out of here.”

But Frank isn’t in a hurry. He likes that gun, and he’s gonna find it. He also enjoys doing the exact opposite of what Murdock wants just to piss him off.

“You go then,” he snaps when Murdock insists.

“You know I won’t.”

Frank knows. It’s the same for him. Frank couldn’t leave Murdock in danger even if he tried. Well, at least not in serious danger. They liked to hurt each other, sure, but they’d never go the distance and just end it. The Punisher and Daredevil will probably fight each other until the end of time, if villains or age doesn’t get to them first.

They’ve got a weird thing going on. Or Murdock does, at least. The guy once created his own super team in order to stalk Frank through New York. Then he purposely went into some fucked up cloak-portal to retrieve Frank all so he could arrest him. Then there was the numerous times Murdock pulled his ass out of the fire before or after beating the shit out of him.

But it wasn’t just Murdock. There was that whole Rikers thing, after all. What possessed him to get locked up with his nemesis, Frank will never know. He probably has a brain tumor or something. It’s the only reasonable explanation.

“Red, quit hovering,” he says, pulling his gun out of the rubble triumphantly. “I swear to god I’ll shoot you.”

“You’ll miss,” Murdock goads.

So of course Frank shoots at him, and then they’re fighting again, and he’s pretty sure the villain-of-the-week is bored watching them and has slunk off to bother Spider-Man instead.

Screw ‘em.

He and Murdock have a thing.

____________

7

My name is Ben Urich, he writes. And if I published this story I’d be rich.

How many times has he thought that? How many times has he written it down, thinking of how it would be his big break; how it would get him away from Jonah, and he’d be his own boss finally? Too many times, that’s the goddamn answer. Too many.

Ben’ll sit at his desk at the Bugle and stare at his computer screen and think, all I have to do is write: my name is Ben Urich, and Daredevil is my friend.

But he won’t. He won’t because he owes it to Matt to keep the parts of his life that Ben is allowed to see private. He owes it to Matt to not write the sensational story of their friendship. Of Daredevil. Of Matt’s roller-coaster of a life. Because Matt is his friend, even if it’s not mutual (Matt isn’t very good with people in general, or any sort of interpersonal relationships). So Ben backspaces and looks at his blank pages and writes a column about nothing for a measly 30 grand a year.

“Don’t do that,” Matt says, and takes his full pack of cigarettes and lobs it onto the next roof where it bounces off the edge and falls into a dumpster. Show off.

“If you’re wondering if I’ve heard anything on Fisk, I haven’t,” he tells Matt. “He’s underground, and it looks like he’ll stay that way for a while.”

“He does what you least expect,” Matt argues. “He’ll come out soon. You’ll need to be careful.”

Ben frowns. “Me? Last I heard it was you he was obsessed with killing.”

Matt is tense, but jittery. He’s like a live-wire when Fisk is shadowing him. Ben understands the feeling; he still has nightmares about Elektra.

“He wants me to suffer,” Matt explains. “He won’t just kill me. He wants to hurt me first. That means going after the people I care about.”

My name is Ben Urich, he thinks, mouth falling open. And I will never publish a bad word about my friend.

“Ok, I’ll, um, be careful. If you will.”

Matt smiles at him wryly, and retorts, “quit smoking and I will.”

He won’t. The smoking and the risk-taking will continue because that’s their dynamic. They face danger together.

Ben isn’t a hero; he’s honestly never thought he was anything but a journalist, and a mediocre one at that. But Matt is one of those people that will remain a legend for hundreds of years after he’s gone, and the only way that can happen is if his story is immortalized somehow. Ben can do that. That’s Ben’s job.

My name is Ben Urich, he plans to write, someday. And I’m friends with a real, live, legendary hero. You might know him.

His name is Matt Murdock.

__________________________

8

And then there’s Foggy.

They meet in college and become avocados at law (that’s an inside joke, pick up the autobiography for more information). When Foggy meets Matt the first thing he thinks is, wow, hot roommate. And holy shit he’s blind.

Foggy was kind of a dork in college, admittedly.

Matt isn’t a dork. He is suave, and handsome, and damned smart. He is killer with the ladies, what with his whole young Robert Redford thing going on, and can talk his way into bed with pretty much anyone (Foggy included, because he’s got eyes). For a blind dude, Matt also has an absolutely amazing body. And that ass….

Ok. So. When Foggy isn’t crushing on Matt, he can definitely admit that he’s also a teensy bit jealous.

He regrets that, because it takes two to tango and a lot of the problems he has with Matt aren’t all completely due to Matt’s particular brand of insanity. Foggy has insecurities, ok? And Matt is…

Matt.

But they are the best kind of friends, even when they are fighting. Foggy loves Matt, loves him like a brother, a friend; a platonic life-partner. He wants to grow old with Matt, and honestly can’t even imagine life without him and his masochistic bullshit.

But Foggy has moments where he’s not so sure that Matt feels the same. Moments when he feels useless, lesser – an annoying sidekick in the Daredevil saga. Moments when Matt is too bright for him to even look at. Why would Matt need Foggy? Was Foggy imagining a closeness that wasn’t there? Was he Matt’s best friend too?

Thing is, Matt had never really had a lot of friends. At least not since the accident that took his sight, and certainly not in the years that Foggy has known him. There are things about Matt that make being his friend very hard – some of which are obvious and some only Foggy knows.

It is the privilege of being ‘the best friend’, to know more about Matt than anyone else; which actually makes it easier to put up with Matt’s quirks. There are sucky reasons why Matt is the way he is, and Foggy does his best to know them all and keep them in mind.

Friendship, in particular, is a hard pill for Matt to swallow.

It takes Foggy ages to understand why. In college, he sort of thinks Matt treats people like they are a little bit stupid, and a lot beneath him (with the exception of Foggy, thankfully). After a few months of a very standoffish Matt, Foggy finally wins him over and they become good roommates, good friends, and then best friends. But it took time, and effort (mostly on Foggy’s part).

As their friendship grew, Foggy came to understand that the thing about Matt is that he assumes nothing. He assumes no kindness from strangers, no consideration from his elders, and no affection from his friends. He keeps his distance not because he feels that others aren’t worthy of his company, but because he thinks he is not worthy of theirs. Matt never expects people to love him.

But they did. They do. And Matt asks why, and Foggy says, because that’s just how it works, Matty.

One day Matt will understand this.

Foggy will make sure of it.

In the meantime, all Foggy has to do is stick by his friend. This is harder than it seems, because Matt is definitely the most complicated person he has ever met. His life is one tragedy after another, really, and Matt handles it with varying degrees of mania and depression. Foggy’s cancer, for instance, is hitting Matt pretty hard. It’s not very visible of course, but he knows his best friend, and while he initially worries that this will trigger Matt, it turns out okay in the end. Matt’s actually…doing ok.

Foggy knows it won’t last, but that’s not a problem, because he’s in it for the long haul, and with Matt, chaos is pretty much the rule. Everyone wanting to be friends with Matt should just get ready to be caught in it. No complaining. No take-backs.

Because that’s what happens when you orbit people like they’re planets; you either resign yourself to being on the outside looking in, or you collide, and become something new, and maybe better, than before.

——

+ 1

But Foggy is wrong. What he doesn’t know is that there’s a third option. That planets can orbit things too – that Matt in fact orbits Foggy, because Foggy is a thing called a star, and he is at the center of Matt’s universe.

One day Foggy will understand this.

Matt will make sure of it.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 031 [Finals Begin!]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,786

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold. But you will remember me, remember me for centuries. And just one mistake is all it will take, we’ll go down in history.” Fall Out Boy, “Centuries”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Do you see him, kid?” I asked, holding his ankles in my hands.

Riku was sitting on my shoulders so he could look over the crowd. He crossed his arms, resting them on the top of my head. “Nope. There’s Mt. Lady, but my brother isn’t anywhere around. Where is that idiot?”

I hummed, approaching the blonde-haired hero. “Let’s gather some clues.”

“Like Scooby-Doo!” I could hear the smile in his voice and chuckled.

She noticed us approaching and lifted her chin, hand on her hip. “Did you finally come to apologize?”

“Not even on your life,” I deadpanned. “Oi, Riku.”

“Right! Have you see a teenage boy that’s really desperate for your attention?”

If I wasn’t holding his ankles to keep him from falling, I would have facepalmed.

She sweatdropped. “There’s a lot of those, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Umm, well, he’s eighteen-years-old, never had a girlfriend that isn’t an anime character, got rejected from two different colleges, he’s a huge pervert with a large stack of dirty magazines under his bed and his favorite color on a girl is pink! Does that help?”

My eye twitched. Really starting to remember why I don’t fuck with little kids… I cleared my throat. “Maybe start with his name…”

“Yuki Reigen.”

“Okay. Now, what does he look like?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “He’s kinda short for his age and he dyes his hair blonde, but he’s really bad at it so it’s super streaky. He wears blue contacts but his eyes are actually brown like mine! His skin is kinda oily, especially his nose, even though he uses this weird smelling cream. He thinks it works but it doesn’t at all!”

Mt. Lady tilted her head, her finger on her chin. Her face suddenly lit up with recognition. “Oh yeah! He was so desperate for my number, he said he’d do anything for it, it was honestly pathetic. I was just about to tell him he could have it after being my slave for two years, but then he suddenly panicked and ran off.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked.

“Yeah, you’re a creepy old hag!” Riku added. “My brother will never be a slave to someone as ugly as you!”

“What did you just call me, you brat?!”

“Mt. Lady!” Woodsman came speed-walking up, putting his wooden arm between us before she could advance. “You’re supposed to be patrolling!”

Riku started to shake, his fingers curling around my short hair as he sniffled. “S-She’s so s-scary! She threatened to h-hit me!” His crying alerted the other people around us, who stopped to see what was going on. Hearing his words made a few of them glare at her, clutching their children closer.

The color drained from her face and she hastily tried to explain the situation. “W-What? No, I -”

Woodsman put his hands on his hips, glaring at her. “You made this child cry, now say you’re sorry!”

“But I didn’t -”

Riku started to cry louder.

“O-Okay! I’m sorry, just stop crying!”

His cries died down to soft sniffles. I swear if he gets snot in my fucking hair I’mma rage.

Woodsman turned to us with a sigh. “I’m really sorry about her, she has no filter. You really should be getting back, the finals will be starting soon.”

“I can’t.” I motioned toward the kid shoving his face onto my head. “He can’t find his brother and I’m trying to help find him.”

“Oh, I see. Here, let me take over.” He held his hands out and I bent down so he could gently grab Riku under the arms, lifting him up and over my head before bringing him into his arms. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll find his brother.”

I nodded, ruffling Riku’s hair. “Don’t leave that idiot brother of yours again, okay? And no more jumping from the stands.”

He nodded, wiping at his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Thank you, big sis.”

Woodsman nodded his head at me before walking away, Riku leaning over his shoulder. His sad expression morphed to a smug grin, all traces of his tears gone.

I exchanged a look with Mt. Lady and I knew we were thinking the same thing – children are fucking demons.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Thank you, Cementoss! Hey, sports fans, are you ready?! After all the action you’ve already witnessed, it’s time for the real battle to begin! Can you feel the excitement?! Our competitors are on their own now! Sometimes heroes have only themselves to rely on! Heart, skill, strength, wisdom, courage – they’ll have to use all of these things to rise to the top!”

A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek as I took a deep breath. Why the fuck do I have to go first? Man, there’s gonna be so many fuckers watching me. Just the thought makes me want to die. Maybe I’ll just forfeit…

Strong hands landed on my shoulders. “You’re pretty tense, kid. Nervous?”

I turned around to face Snipe and Toshi. “I’m always tense, it’s a way of life.”

“Don’t worry, young Jen, you’ll do great.” Toshi gave me a thumbs up and a grin. “You fought against young Reggian a bit in the cavalry battle so you know a bit about his quirk already.”

“Somethin’ to do with air, I think?” I scratched my cheek.

“Just don’t kill ’em and you’ll be just fine,” Snipe put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a half hug. “We’ll be rootin’ for ya, kid.”

“Thanks, guys.” I grinned.

“Well, well, audience, let’s cut to the good stuff and not delay these finals any longer! Welcome our first fighters – with a potty mouth and an attitude to match, it’s Jen Winchester from the hero course!”

I stepped through the doorway, hands shoved into my pockets. My eyes squinted as the sudden bright light invading my vision. The crowd was screaming, but I did my best not to pay them any mind as I approached the arena.

“Versus! His sanity is seriously up for debate, it’s Regina Reggian from general studies!”

“Hey, I’m lucid sometimes, twatwaffle!”

“What did he just call me?!”

“A twatwaffle.”

“Don’t ever say that again, Eraser…”

I rolled my eyes before glancing across to the other doorway where Regina was exiting from, looking smug. Man, this guy really has a face I just wanna punch. With a fucking metal chair.

“The rules are simple – immobilize your opponent or force them out of the ring! You can also win by getting the other person to cry uncle! Bring on the injuries because we’ve got our very own Recovery Girl waiting on standby! So put your morals aside and don’t be afraid to play dirty, but of course, no life-threatening crap, folks, it’s not allowed! Real heroes use their powers to throw villains in jail, not kill them!”

“I’ll stop anyone that tries to get too rough,” Cementoss said calmly. He was sitting beside the ring, directly centered with it in a chair he had made with his quirk.

I scratched my cheek. Call me old-fashioned but should they really be encouraging teenagers to beat the ever-living shit out of each other? Sounds fucking suspect.

Regina grinned at me. “I’m gonna force you to give up, nerd!”

“Not even in your dreams, kid.” I grinned back. “Be careful, you don’t wanna get burnt.”

“Ready?!”

“You’re a magician’s red burnin’ chicken looking ass.”

“What the fuck does that even mean? Your taste sound like ass. I’m gonna fucking annihilate you like Kunimitsu Tezuka did to the dinosaurs.”

“Nani the fuck?”

“BEGIN!”

We both took our stances. He held his hands out like he were gripping a sword and the air around him started to solidify, forcing the hilt of a sword. The blade started to form… is that a fucking cactus? “Hey! This is my cactus and his name is Pablo!”

I sweatdropped. What is with this guy? “Oi -” I suddenly gagged as something solidified in my mouth. It tasted like if you took Kirishima’s dirty gym socks, wiped your ass with it, and then pureed it with rotten onions. My stomach turned as I spit it out, coughing violently as I tried to ignore the taste on my tongue. Is that… a mother fucking sock?!

“Winchester just spit up a sock! What is this sorcery we’re seeing, folks?!”

“Take this!” Taking advantage of the distracted he had created, he moved in close, swinging the sword above his head. My hand shot up, connecting with the translucent spikes of the cactus. They broke the skin, small drops of blood flowing from the holes.

“Reggian has successfully launched the first attack! How will Winchester respond?!”

“Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“No, you’re a nerd.”

“Hmph, can’t argue with that one, but you’re gonna have to die now, thanks!” I squeezed my hand, increasing the temperature of my skin until the cactus exploded. My hand was throbbing.

“PABLO, NO!!!”

I punched him in the stomach, sending him stumbling backward, clutching his stomach and coughing.

“You’ll pay… for killing Pablo… you thot!” He held his hand up and the air started to solidify. “Improvised special move, Pablo Jr!!” He threw the small, potted cactus at me and I grunted, smacking it away. As soon as my hand touched it, it exploded.

“It’s hard to see but if you look closely you can see a bunch of translucent spikes now stuck in Winchester’s body from that last attack!”

“Son of a bitch,” I grunted. He lifted his hands again and I dashed forward. I won’t even give him the chance to – smack. I fell face-first on the ground, the cold cement seeping through my clothes.

Silence fell over the stadium before a roar of laughter erupted.

“Oh my god!”

“Did you see her face?!”

“I’m so glad I came, this is hilarious!”

“What a classic move!!”

“I’m wheezing, someone help!”

“Ahahahaha! Class 1-A isn’t looking so cool now, is it?!”

“Shut up, Monoma!”

“No one can get past my second improvised special move – Banana Peel Field!!” Regina laughed loudly.

“I can’t believe it! In all my years, this is the first time I’ve ever seen anyone slip on a banana peel during the sports festival! This is great!!”

I slowly lifted my head, my teeth clenched in annoyance. I fucking slipped on a mother fucking banana peel made of goddamn air. This fucking brat is toying with me and it’s pissing me off. I pulled myself to my feet, my blood boiling as flames engulfed my hands. I thrust them out to the side and lines of fire shot out in all directions, swirling around the arena.

I clenched my fists, grinning when he took a step back. “I’m not gonna give you the chance to give up, but don’t worry bro, I will give you the chance to die!” I slammed both fists against the ground, the concrete splitting as fire snaked through it directly toward him.

“Ah, shit -”

The flames shot up from the ground, hitting him in the gut and lifting him off his feet. I teleported behind him, pulling my leg back before slamming my shin against his back and into the cement. He coughed, doing a somersault to avoid my boot. He breathed heavily, lifting his hands again, but I didn’t give him the chance, teleporting behind him again. Pain shot through my skull and I knew I needed to end it soon.

The flames raged on my arm as I cocked my arm, bringing my fist against his face. He flew backward and I stomped my foot, sending a wave of flame to propel him farther. It smacked into him like a spout of water, forcing his body out of bounds and pinning it against the wall. His eyes rolled back in his head as he lost consciousness, the flames dying out. The air spikes in my body disappeared.

“Reggian is out of bounds!” Midnight raised her hand, the metal cuff clanking from the movement. “Winchester advances to the next round!”

“Woah, that chick is kinda scary, don’t you think?”

“She told him to die!”

“That’s not a very heroic thing to say…”

“Reggian did really well!”

“He’s hilarious! Imagine having him as a sidekick.”

“Right? There’d never be a dull moment!”

“His power is pretty unique, too. If you think about it, the uses for his quirk are pretty limitless.”

“Right? Fire’s a pretty basic quirk, no creativity there.”

My eyes narrowed at my hand, watching the blood drip to the cement.

“Go see Recovery Girl.” Midnight ordered.

“Yeah, whateva.”

“And with that explosive display, we have the first victor of the finals! Class 1-A’s Jen Winchester! Ah yeah~ that was a pretty amusing first fight, kids! Both of you fought bravely, let’s show them some love!!”

I won the fucking match, but I feel like a fucking loser. I shoved my hands into my pockets as I approached the dark hallway. I wanna go home.

“Hey, big sis!”

I glanced up at Riku’s voice. He was leaning over the railing again, waving his hand like crazy. A taller boy stood behind him, gripping the back of his shirt to keep him in place. That must be his older brother. Good, I’m glad the Woodsman was able to find him.

“You were so cool out there! Your power is uber strong!” he grinned brightly, closing his eyes. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

My heart skipped a beat as warmth flooded me, my lips twitching up as I released a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. Thanks, kid… I needed that.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Gimme some sugar~” Gran pressed her lips to my cheek and patted my bandaged hand. “There, all better, deary.”

“Thanks, Gran.”

“Why the glum face? You won, after all.”

I sighed, falling back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I mean, I know I won the fight, but he won over the crowd. They totally hated me.”

She hummed. “There will always be times when people prefer one quirk over another. Don’t let it get you down, deary. You’ll always be number one in my heart.”

I smiled, turning onto my side and propping my cheek up against my palm. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Of course you may.”

“What does it mean… to be a hero?”

She sent me a surprised look before humming, her hand on her chin. “Well, everyone views it quite differently. At its very core, a hero is someone that wants to help others, but everyone has their own reasons, their own desires, to become a hero.”

“But I don’t,” I frowned, picking at the white sheet beneath me. “I don’t have that drive. I’ve thought about it a bunch of times, but I can’t think of a reason to fight. Besides… if people find out who my mother is, won’t that make them hate me, anyway? Bakugo told me not to tell anyone. He was dead serious about it. She was an A-Class villain turned pro hero. No one trusted her…”

Gran set her small hand over mine, her voice warm. “That may be true, but you are not your mother, deary. You’re your own person and if they view you differently, well, that’s their loss. No matter what happens in the future, you will always have a place here at U.A.”

My fingers wrapped around her hand. “Do you think… I’ll find a reason to be a hero?”

“I do, but you must remember that you grew up in a world where heroes are nothing more than fiction. It makes sense that you have no desire to be a hero because you grew up believing that such a dream simply wasn’t possible. I believe that, with time, you’ll find your reason to keep fighting. You just have to have some patience. These things can’t be rushed.”

I chuckled. “Patience has never been my strong suit. When I was a kid, the loading screen for my new game was taking too long so I kicked the TV.”

She laughed, patting my hand. “Yes, well, you are still young, deary.”

I glanced at Regina, who was unconscious on the bed across the room. “He gonna be okay?”

“He’ll be just fine. I’ve healed his wounds, now he just needs to recover his stamina. No need to worry.”

“Che, as if I’d worry about that idiot.” I rolled over onto my back, folding my hands behind my head. “Can I rest here for a bit?”

“Of course, deary.”

“Thanks, Gran.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek before returning to her work, leaving me to mull over her words.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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