#she's a goddamn hero and I will throw hands

[batboyblog]

Everyone wants a dramatic movie moment where our hero stands up, gives just the right speech and is gloriously victorious over the forces of evil.

but out here in the real world that shit don't happen.

McBride is stuck in a shitty place, but honestly she's really playing the best cards she's got. Like it or not (and I DO FUCKING NOT) trans people have taken a hellish beating in the court of public opinion over the last 3-4 years

these numbers are fucking BAD! no way to sugar coat that, and I'd say its because conservatives have had it nearly all their own way in defining what a trans person is. They've pushed, and clearly pretty successfully, an image of trans people pushing into "women's spaces" being scary, rude, pushy, male invaders. And this is an image that about 60% of the public agrees with, right now.

So how to change that and win the war? well Congresswoman-elect McBride's options are and were pretty limited, the Speaker of the House runs the House, he gets to say these kinds of rules. She could fight it, and try to force a floor fight on it. But 1. she'd lose, and maybe rather than a rule that a future Democratic Speaker could undo in a moment, Republicans might rally to pass a law effecting ALL federal buildings (which Congresswoman Mace wants) and 2. it'd just play into the unfair and mean idea of trans people as pushy invaders trying to muscle into women's bathrooms.

Sometimes in a fight you just have to take the first punch and hope it's not enough to put you down. And thats what Congresswoman McBride is doing, she's taking the first hit on the chin. Why? because then she becomes the victim, she plays to a winnable majority by appearing reasonable and cooperative, and Republicans obsessed with her and how she goes to the bathroom come off as unhinged, mean, crazy, and bullying. It helps that Congresswoman Mace looks like Regina George all grown up. McBride is successfully turning the fight into

If Sarah McBride can shift the conversation to trans people are just normal people who really just want to do their jobs in peace and transphobes are raving crazy people who will NOT shut up about pee, she'll have done the trans community a huge service.

this is why we fucking lose, and people are too fucking narrowminded and short-term thinking-inclined to see

[disaster-writer]

Obsessed

Pairing: Pro-hero!Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Summary: Bakugo is obsessed with your ex and it’s driving you up a wall (Inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song Obsessed)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

A/N: a few weeks ago I saw a post that was about this same concept, and I couldn’t find it to link it here unfortunately. I just thought it fit so well with him that I wanted to write my own take on it. Also this is just comedy, obviously his behavior in this would be problematic in real life so I’m definitely not condoning his obsession.

Minors DNI

Bakugo Katsuki’s eyes danced from cover to cover of every one of the magazines stocked in the stand at the convenience store he regularly stopped at after work. Each one baring a hero with advertisements of their interview inside. He noticed that some of his friends had even made the cover, notably Shitty Hair’s and Racoon Eye’s engagement announcement and a magazine that Dunce Face had recently modeled for.

But there was one specific cover he was glaring at.

His hands crackled.

Fuck it.

He hadn’t hesitated any longer before grabbing the magazine and staring at it with scrutinizing eyes.

Fucking Hawks

That fucking asshole was on the cover of another magazine— as if the other million with him on it wasn’t good enough.

He rifled through the pages, landing on the one that the cover said his interview would be on. It wasn’t one, or two, but four fucking pages long.

He read it furiously, eyes bouncing from each and every word.

‘What would you say is the most rewarding part of your hero work?’

Who gives a crap.

‘How have you learned to balance fame with being a hero?’

Absolute shit question.

‘Everyone knows you have a large female fanbase, so we’re all curious to know why you think that is?’

Because they’re all fucking idiots with shit taste, that’s why.

‘About two years ago you were part of a pretty big scandal when you were seen leaving your agency hand in hand with a hooded woman. Now that some time has passed are you willing to admit that she’s your girlfriend?’

No she was his fucking girlfriend, not that fucking asshole pretty boys—

The magazine blew up in his hands.

”Hey!” The store clerk yelled at the hero, “I don’t care if you’re a hero, you have to pay for that! What kind of business do you think I’m running!?”

“HAH!?” Bakugo puffed up his chest with a sneer as he stormed up to the counter, “MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T KEEP SHIT MAGAZINES HERE IF YOU DON’T WANT THEM BLOWN UP! GET SOME BETTER SHIT! I’M OUTTA HERE!” He yelled furiously at the man before storming out of the store and slamming the door shut, shattering its glass.

The clerk ran up to the door in a rage, screaming something or other at the hero as he stormed down the sidewalk angrily.

He’d probably need to find a new convenience store.

Bakugo continued to stomp his way down the sidewalk as he walked to your apartment. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled his phone out, pulling up google.

He found his fingers quickly tapping away at the screen.

Hawks

Picture after picture of that stupid hero came up and his finger swiped through each one as he sneered at his stupid face that even Bakugo couldn’t deny was objectively attractive— not to mention he had this air of coolness around him, making every single goddamned thing he did seem effortless.

Bakugo was seething, passerby’s staring at him in fear as they watched him silently rage on such a beautiful, clear day.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of your door, shoving the spare key under the mat into the lock.

”Hey, Kat!” You chirped, looking over at him from the kitchen, “How was work?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, walking over to you and taking a peak at the dinner you were cooking. Looked like chicken soup but knowing you and your cooking skills it was probably some amalgamation of whatever was in your fridge. “Couldn’t fuckin wait an hour?”he grumbled— he would’ve cooked for you if you weren’t so damn impatient.

”You were taking too long,” you whined, throwing some celery into the pot. “I got hungry.”

He grunted, reaching for your hips and turning you into him, slamming his lips into yours.

Hawks probably used to kiss you more gently— he could just picture him seducing you into kissing him, making you chase for it. 

Not Bakugo. No, if he wanted to kiss you then he was going to fucking kiss you.

You pulled away breathlessly, a hairs breadth away from him, “Whoa— what was that for?”

He stared down at you with hooded eyes.

He was better than Hawks.

He could even prove it.

He turned the stove off and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

”Hey— what are you doing!” You yelped, kicking your legs. 

“Bedroom,” he grunted.

”But what about dinner?” 

“I’ll fix whatever mess you started in there later. I’m making sure you work up a real appetite.”

* * * *

Bakugo’s hips smacked against your ass sharply, balls hitting your clit with every thrust, each slap louder than your muffled moans in the pillow you clung to for dear life.

One hand gripped the headboard as his other gripped your hip in a bruising hold. He stared at you, hunched over your trembling body as tears clung to your lashes.

Hawks couldn’t fuck you like this— no damn way. 

But what if he could— he technically was the number two hero, while Bakugo was still stuck at number 15.

What if he fucked you better?

The thought had Bakugo fisting your hair and pulling you up, freeing your pleasured moans and cries.

”K-Kat— ah, fuck—“

Did you even mean to say his name? What if you really meant to say Hawks’— what if you meant Hawks every single time you ever said his name?

”Tell me you’re mine,” he grunted.

”’M yours— all yours Kat— only yours,” you babbled uselessly. He’d be lying if it wasn’t one of his favorite things about you in bed, given any sort of prompt and you just ran with it. 

“Who fucks you this good?”

”Y-you! You do!— You fuck me so good Kat—ah- best cock I’ve ever had—“

He growled, wrapping his arms around you and hoisting you up, now fucking up into you as he held you against him, head lolling on his shoulder.

He bit down on your neck hard, making you cry out as he started sucking on it, sure to leave a nasty hickey behind.

Maybe Hawks would see. He knew neither of you even talked anymore but what if he’s just on patrol, sees you, decides to say hi, and finds that dark bruise right on your neck, sucked raw.

The thought had him bouncing you faster against him, his muffled groans into your neck sounding with your high pitched cries of his name.

He wound his hand down to your clit and rubbed back and forth furiously.

”Oh fuck—“ you sobbed, body arching and trying to get away, but he tightened his arm around you and held you in place.

”Cum pretty girl, cum around the best fucking cock you’ve ever taken.”

You came with a shrill cry, grasping for any part of him you could hold onto.

He came soon after, inside. 

He knew he shouldn’t but something about cumming in you sated whatever beast was inside him.

You whined as you slumped into his arms, weak and shaky.

”You promised Kat.”

”Couldn’t help it.”

”Then you’re wearing condoms again.” You huffed as he lowered you down on your side of the bed.

He tsked, “Go on birth control.”

”I’m not fucking with my hormones.”

”Damn woman,” he growled, laying beside you, “I’ll get you a plan B, just quit your whining.”

”You’re wearing a condom next time.”

”Yeah yeah, fine.”

”And go make dinner.”

He pulled you against him, your body curling against him with your head on his chest. “In a second. Lemme catch my breath and help clean you up first.”

You huffed but nuzzled against him. 

He liked having you curled up against him but he couldn’t deny there was an ulterior motive to him ‘catching his breath’.

He just really loved the fact that you were laying with his cum dripping out of you right now.

Not Hawks’s cum— Katsuki’s

The rest of the night went as it routinely did for the most part. He fixed the mess of the soup you were working on before eating you out and making you cum three times then fucking you for a second time… then a third time.

And when you thought he was finally done, you went to shower and get on with your shower routine only for him to walk in half way through your shower with his dick hard again.

He fucked you for a fourth time.

All with a condom.

”Seven times,”  you breathed as your head hit the pillow. “You made me cum seven times tonight.”

Your limbs were sore, Bakugo had to carry you to bed. Your legs were basically useless now. 

“What’s gotten into you tonight— it’s only a Tuesday.”

Marathon’s like these weren’t exactly out of the norm, but tonight felt so unprompted. 

He grunted, turning on his side and pulling you against his chest, clinging to you like a Koala.

”I’m not allowed to want to fuck my girlfriend?” He murmured into your hair.

”No… just felt out of no where that’s all.”

”What? You didn’t like it?” He growled defensively.

You rolled your eyes, slotting your legs with his. Everything was always so dramatic with him, “No I liked it. Best cock I’ve ever had, remember?” You snickered.

His arms tightened around you… now he was thinking of the other cock you’ve taken.

”Better than the birds?”

“Oh my god,” you hissed, annoyance dripping from every word, “Really Katsuki? This again?”

”What? It’s a simple fucking question.”

”Yes. Your cocks better than Keigo’s. Happy now?”

Silence filled the room. You thought maybe he dropped it and you closed your eyes.

”Are you just saying that to shut me up?”

”Kat,” you snapped, eyes opening again. “Drop it. I’ve already told you everything about that relationship. Just move the fuck on— I already have.”

He was silent once again.

”Do you still have his number in your phone?”

You cursed to yourself… this was going to be a longer night than you thought.

* * * *

Bakugo stared out the window as you snored lightly in your sleep, burying his nose in your freshly washed hair.

He couldn’t sleep knowing he was laying in the same spot Hawks once had.

Did he used to hold you just like this too?

When you mentioned your ex in past conversations he had thought nothing of it. You were a civilian, your life was normal, he always figured this ex you mentioned was some boring ass nine to five guy that put the most generic shit in a dating profile like ���Favorite Hobby: Traveling’.

Of course Bakugo would be better than that guy.

Come to find out you were in a long term relationship with the number fucking two hero.

What the fuck was it about you that attracted high ranking heroes of all people. 

Like yeah you were cool and fun and magnetic and didn’t take shit from anyone— you were even able to go head to head with him in a screaming match which shouldn’t have been as attractive as he found it. Not to mention how fucking hot you were…

Okay fine, Bakugo thought you were goddamned perfect any man would be a fucking idiot if they didn’t find you any less than perfect like he did.

But still.

Number fucking two.

Hawks had always been cool and collected, saving people every day without lifting a finger. He dominated the skies and had a trail of girls drooling after him. The media loved him— everyone loved him.

Bakugo on the other hand… not so much. How could you go from someone like Hawks to Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

From number two to number 15.

One day he would become number one but he still wasn’t quite there yet.

Ever since he found out he had found himself thinking of the hero more than he ever had before. Hawks dominated every second of his life.

Is he still friends with your friends? Is he good in bed? Do you ever think about him? Is he easy-going? Not controlling like Bakugo sometimes could be?

Oh god.

He had issues.

* * * * 

“Y’know they were in love,” Bakugo practically gagged.

Kirishima side eyed his friend.

He was seriously over talking about Hawks every single time he patrolled with Bakugo.

”Isn’t she in love with you now?”

”That’s what she says,” he grumbled.

”You don’t believe her?”

”No, I believe her. I just think she’s confused.”

He was really starting to lose it, huh?

”Don’t you think,” Kirishima started, choosing his next words carefully as he waved at a little kid they walked by, elbowing Bakugo to do the same. “It’s unhealthy to think about your girlfriend’s ex this much? It’s been like two years since they broke up hasn’t it?”

”19 months and three days.”

Oh boy.

”Okay… have you tried talking to her about your obsession—“

”IT’S NOT A FUCKING OBSESSION!” He suddenly exploded, hands crackling. “WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT!”

Kirishima didn’t even flinch as he screamed, instead offering an apologetic smile to the civilians on the sidewalk. “Maybe because you started asking how he is in bed after you two had sex?”

”SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR, NO ONE ASKED YOU!”

“So you haven’t talked to her then?”

Bakugo growled in response.

”Maybe talk to him?”

Bakugo looked over at his friend, eyes wide as he watched Kirishima walk beside him with his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the sky. “Talk to Hawks?”

The idea had never struck him before.

”Yeah. Maybe you just need to meet him. You’ve probably just built up this grand image of him that the media keeps perpetuating— he might not be as perfect as you think, they always did say never to meet your heroes.”

Meet Hawks.

Meet Hawks.

Yeah— he could do that.

Bakugo was suddenly blasting away from his friend.

”Hey! We’re still doing a job you know!?” 

“I’m working by myself today!” He called out behind him.

Bakugo was on a mission.

He was going to meet Hawks and give him a piece of his mind.

The hero was often spotted perching on rooftops, miles away from his agency as any villain with a brain would know better than to commit a crime right by a hero agency— Hawks’s agency especially.

So Bakugo found himself bounding from rooftop to rooftop, searching the skies for that damn bird— he was also keeping an eye on the city, he was still a hero with a job after all.

But as the sun started to set, Bakugo grew restless, finally deciding to take a break and lay on one of the many rooftops he landed on.

No damn sign of him.

Of course he’d be hard to catch, his whole schtick was being fast.

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed at a cloud that reminded him of bird wings. He wondered if you two ever got up to weird sexual shit with those stupid wings.

His chest felt so damn tight every time he thought of him, like he could explode at any second.

He knew so much useless crap about him now that he read and watched practically every single interview of his.

He was a Capricorn.

His blood type was B.

He was 5’7” and 3/4.

His favorite food was chicken— goddamn cannibal.

He wondered if that was why you were in the habit of cooking chicken for dinner most nights.

You were together for two and a half years, that was a long time to spend with someone. What mannerisms have you picked up from him that he always believed were yours?

He pulled out his phone and pulled up Hawks’s instagram, scrolling through perfect photo after perfect photo of him and reading his replies to fan comments.

Damn bird probably didn’t even run his own account.

He tapped on his tags, scrolling down to one of the many photos that haunted him.

He remembered the news at the time, headlines reading ‘Pro-Hero Hawks Has A Girlfriend’ and ‘Sorry Ladies, This Hero is Taken’.

At the time he couldn’t give less of a shit, but now.

It was all he could fucking think about.

He stared at the photo of Hawks dragging a hooded woman by the hand out of his agency. He scrolled and stared at the second photo of him grinning down at the woman.

It was you all right.

There weren’t any other pictures of the two of you out in public and it irked him. It was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched as he wondered just how the two of you looked together in your relationship.

Did you have any pictures of the two of you in your phone?

That was when the sunlight was completely blocked, blanketing him in shadow.

He lowered his phone and his quirk nearly blew up the device.

Fucking Hawks.

His eyes followed the bird as he perched on a telephone pole near the rooftop.

”There a reason you’re lounging on a roof, hero?” Hawks asked with an amused smirk.

Bakugo only stared— was this real or had he actually lost his mind now?

He raised a brow at his silence, tilting his head, reminding Bakugo of an owl. “You didn’t get hit by a quirk or something did you?”

He suddenly had no idea what to say— he hadn’t actually planned anything out to begin with. He figured his mouth would take over like usual and he’d go from there.

”Wait, I know you,” he suddenly snapped his fingers, “You’re that hero Dynamight.”

”THAT’S GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT TO YOU.”

Hawks blinked at the outburst before he barked out a laugh.

”WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT BIRD BRAIN!?” He shouted, stomping his way over to the edge of the roof.

”Nothing, nothing,” he laughed, waving his hand, “That’s a great name.”

”ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME!” He screamed again, throwing his hand up and blasting off an explosion straight at Hawks.

Hawks’s eyes widened as he quickly darted upwards, missing the attack. “Y’know I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be on the same side,” he called out, watching Bakugo as he seethed.

”Same side my ass,” he growled under his breath, “Is my girlfriend’s number still in your phone!?”

”Your girlfriend?” Hawks scoffed, “I don’t know who’s been lying to you but I can promise I don’t have your girlfriend’s number—“

”(Y/N) (L/N)!”

Hawks’s face fell, “You’re dating (Y/N)?”

”YES I AM, YOU STUPID BIRD.”

”Alright fine,” he shrugged, “I guess I do have your girlfriend’s number.”

Bakugo screamed as he hurled blast after blast at Hawks, to which he swiftly dodged each and every one.

He stopped, panting as he searched the sky for him as the smoke cleared, only to find the man standing in front of him.

”Is there a reason you’re trying to kill me? (N/N) moan my name while you two fucked or something?”

A fierce rage boiled in him at the nickname, “DON’T CALL HER THAT!” 

He began shooting more and more explosions at him.

Hawks tsked.

What a bother— were you really dating this guy?

He sent his feathers straight at Bakugo, each one catching onto any piece of fabric it could without slicing him and another set of feathers sliding off his gauntlets.

He had Bakugo pinned against the rooftop, palms against the concrete.

Hawks walked through the smoke, staring down at the struggling, screaming man with an unamused expression.

He kneeled down. “You’re aware we broke up like two years ago.” He said flatly, this was so ridiculous, he could barely remember what happened the last time he talked to you.

”19 months and three days,” he spat.

“Whoa,” his eyes widened before a grin tugged on his lips, “You have issues huh?” He only laughed as Bakugo continued to scream at him. “You also know she’s the one that broke up with me, right?”

”Of course she did! Because you’re a fucking dumbass who can’t fuck!”

“Can’t fuck? She tell you that? Because I remember her telling me something very different.”

Bakugo saw red, now thinking about you moaning about Hawks’s dick the same way you moaned about his.

He sighed, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest. “Y’know… it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen her. And I suppose I should cut your rampage short. Let’s go on a little trip.”

* * * *

You hummed, dancing around your kitchen while you cooked. Bakugo was late, but that was fine, he probably got held up with hero work.

You knew he’d probably yell at you for cooking dinner without him again but you were sticking to a chicken dish that you had perfected so he could complain all he wanted while eating his deliciously seasoned chicken.

There was a knock at your door.

”One second!” You called out, quickly washing your hands. It was probably the landlord again.

You turned your music off, humming as you skipped over to the door and opened it.

Your smile immediately fell.

Keigo fucking Takami leaned against the wall across your door with your boyfriend, who was currently wrapped up in a bandage capture weapon from his ankles to his mouth, being floated by Keigo’s feathers.

”It’s come to my attention that you’ve lost something,” He coolly stated with one of those grins you used to see on almost a daily basis.

Bakugo was screaming into the bandage around his mouth, not a single word coming out coherently.

Your head fell as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “For the love of God please tell me I’m being pranked.” You groaned.

”Not today sweetheart.”

More screaming ensued. “Alright,” you huffed, “Come in I guess.” You moved to the side, Bakugo being floated into the room first with Hawks following behind, and his two gauntlets floating in afterwards.

Hawks looked around the familiar space, “You redecorated,” he stated calmly, before noticing your neck, “And that looks painful,” he pointed to the ridiculous hickey your boyfriend left on you the night before. He went over to the couch and placed Bakugo down, his feathers finally rejoining his wings.

He immediately rolled off, hitting the ground with a thud as he struggled.

Hawks quirked an eyebrow at him before looking back to you, “Dynamight huh? Little hero magnet aren’t ya?”

You shrugged, “Seems so— this one keeps my hands a bit more full though.”

”Just wait till he finds out about the other hero you dated.”

Bakugo struggled more, smacking his head against the coffee table.

”He’s fucking with you Kat!” You called out, walking over to him, now standing above your restrained boyfriend, “There was no other hero— do you have to rile him up even more?” You snapped at Keigo.

He only shrugged, “He tried killing me so I think that’s fair.”

You groaned, “I’m really sorry about that. I’m gonna talk to him tonight.”

He hummed, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. You look good by the way, it’s nice seeing you doing well after all this time.”

”Yeah, you too,” you grinned, “Hero work going well? I see you on the news almost every day.”

”Better than ever.” He smiled, “I’ll let you attend to him though, I think he needs the attention.”

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks.” You said leading him to the door, “And thank you for bringing him here, I’m sorry again for any trouble he caused.”

”S’alright,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I do have one question though,” he turned, facing you in the doorway, “Did you really tell him I can’t fuck—?”

“Good night Keigo,” you slammed the door in his face.

You walked back over to your boyfriend, watching him roll back and forth between the couch and coffee table as he struggled with the capture weapon.

”Oh Kat,” you sighed, “What am I gonna do with you?”

You sat on the couch, leaning down and yanking the bandage from his mouth.

He said nothing.

You raised a brow, “Really? You had a fuck ton to say when he was here,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You were flirting,” he grumbled.

”You tried to kill him? Really? You don’t realize how fucking psychotic that is?”

“… He called you sweetheart.”

”Okay,” you snapped, “This has got to stop Kat. Honestly it seems like you’re more into Keigo than me.”

”That’s absolute fucking bullshit, and you know it. I’m only obsessed with him because of you.”

”So you admit you’re obsessed?”

”What!? No!—I— shut up you fucking idiot!” He screamed, rolling on the floor again to try and break free.

”Okay, how are we gonna remedy this? What can I do to help you get over this? Therapy?”

He stopped, staring at the ceiling, ”… Lemme send him a picture of my dick in your pussy.”

”Absolutely out of the question.” You stated, utterly unamused.

”Sucking me off?”

“Nope.”

”Eating you out?”

”Try again.”

“Mirror pic of us in doggy?”

”Kat—… actually I can deal with that— but only if you agree to talk to a therapist. I love you Kat so I’m really gonna need you to drop this obsession with my ex or I’m gonna have a new one.”

”Fine!” He barked. “Doggy and a therapist.”

You nodded, “Doggy and a therapist— and did you pick up that plan B like you said you would?”

“…damn it.”

* * * * 

[New Message… Unknown number]

[1 Attachment]

Keigo Takami: ‘Thanks. I almost forgot what she looked like in that position’

[New Message… (Y/N)]

(Y/N): Idk what you said but I’m begging you to stop riling him up. There’s only so much screaming I can take in one night 

Keigo Takami: Good luck sweetheart, I’m sure you’re doing a lot more screaming than he is anyway ;)

(Y/N): Bastard

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your area ch 5 part 1 of 2

Masterpost

Jason found himself back in the real world (the human world?) in fuckin Star City. Christ. Luckily, his electronics came on line. They weren’t fried, then. He looked up the nearest zeta tube and booked it over there, not eager to get caught in another hero’s city.  The worst part would be that Batman would inevitably smooth it out on his behalf and go growl at Queen for having the audacity to try to arrest him. Jason did not need to get bailed out by his asshole Dad, thanks. 

He wasn’t worried about Green Arrow and his crew per se, but it would be a shitstorm he didn’t need even if he managed to get out. 

Not when he was so laden down with books that he had unfolded both dufflebags stored in his suit, for fuckin sure. Sure, they’d make phenomenal weapons if he swung ‘em around, but the books deserved better than that. 

His comm forced itself on as soon as he came through to Gotham.

“You’re back!” Barbie said, breathless. “You’re alive? Right?”

Jason snorted. The street he stepped onto wasn’t fully dark yet. Patrol probably hadn’t started. “I’m alive,” he confirmed. “How long was I gone?”

“About ten hours,” she said.

Oh. Jason pursed his lips. It wasn’t dusk, it was dawn. “Tonight must have been fun,” he said lightly. 

She laughed darkly. “You’re about to find out how fun it was.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Hey, no-”

Oracle opened up a line to what was probably every vigilante in Gotham city. “Hood is back and safe,” she announced, gleeful about throwing him to the wolves. “He’s on 2nd and Grim, for anyone who wants to drop by and tell him how much they missed him.” 

Jason cursed a blue streak and started off at a dead sprint as he reached for his grappling hook. It was a lot slower than usual since he was swinging two enormous bags of books. …Could he even grapple with these? Goddamn. He’d be over the weight limit. He cursed even harder and put the hook back.

“Heading west,” Oracle said cheerfully, and then clicked off a bare instant before he manually mashed the damn power button on his setup. Nope, nope, nope, he was not dealing with this shit tonight. 

He made it about four blocks and was so goddamn close to a safehouse (one of Bruce’s, but he could put it on lockdown) when a wailing blue and black blur emerged from the skies.

“We thought you died,” Nightwing warbled at him. Jesus fucking christ, he had been crying. His face was wet. Jason tried to duck away but he was too laden. He struggled against the hold for a few futile seconds before he went limp.

Dick sniffled into his chest. 

“Shut up,” Jason said, shoulders nearly up to his ears. He didn’t need to hear any criticism of how he had handled that cult situation, or any grieving about how this had made people think of the time he got brutally beaten to death. 

“I’m not saying anything,” Dick mumbled. He gave one more squeeze before withdrawing. “Huge relief to see you in the-what do you have there?” He dove down into the bags of books before Jason could kick him away. He was already prying the bag open by the time he asked. Jason tried to pull it away but it was impossible to keep Dick’s grabby hands out of your business.

“He went to a library,” Nightwing announced to the comms, outraged. “We thought he was dead and he went to a library!”

Someone laughed loudly on the comms. The brat turned on his comms explicitly to scoff.

“Did you rob a library?” Dick’s voice went high. “There’s so much here!” He flipped things around. “There- these are the same book? Hood, why do you have so many copies of the same book?”

“They’re not the same,” Jason snapped. “Get your grubby hands off of them!” He took his things back and edged away, glowering at his dumb asshole brother. “If you came to gawk, you did it, so now fuck off. You can clearly see that I am fine.”

“Jason,” Batman rasped, like the goddamn creep he was. Jason spun to see that he’d come up from behind. He lurched closer. He looked like hell. His knuckles were bloody and his pulse was jumping in his throat.

“No names in masks,” Jason snapped. He put his hands up to keep Bruce at a distance. “That’s your own rule, old man!”

It was no use. He endured the bullshit while his dumbass Dad made sure he wasn’t dead again, but he drew the line at letting Bruce clutch him and probably sob under his sweaty cowl like a weirdo. 

“I should have stayed there,” Jason grumbled. He patted at Bruce’s back. “There, there, asshole. You’re fine.”

[izvmimi]

cw: pop star!au. fem!reader with diva & tsun tendencies. sfw but suggestive. possibly may have more parts.

When you finally show up to the studio, having woken up hours past your expected alarm such that you had to skip your yoga and your poolside brunch, your assistant is not happy to see you in the least, and the rest of your camera crew is at least a little bit miffed.

And quite frankly, you don’t give a flying fuck. 

You’re about forty-five minutes late, but the fact of the matter is that the main attraction is you, and only you, and as one of the top international pop stars of the decade, you have gotten a little too comfortable with letting your whims set the tone of things. The hustle and bustle of the set however starts up again the moment you walk in, as your head assistant claps her hands and lets the crew know to set up cameras, makeup and outfitting to get ready to put you in their chair and turn you magical. 

You walk right up to her and give her a cheeky grin. 

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Aya wishes she could throw you out of the nearest window but settles to say slap a script in a sheet of paper into your chest.

“This is the plan for the music video. Read this and don’t piss me off.”

You frown as you take it from her then scan through the crumpled piece quickly. Your newest music video is supposed to be a bit sexier than usual, with a pretty generic storyline - you play a damsel in distress saved by a dashing hero, the trope subverted by the fact that you’re a succubus, far from someone to be saved. You’re excited for it, having played a little bit too close to sweetheart territory for so long, and it’ll be your first time having an actual top Hero as your love interest, unlike your prior models who were more props than anything else.

But there’s one issue.

You crinkle your nose in distaste.

“You got Deku!?”

Aya raises her eyebrow adjusting thick rimmed glasses as she repositions her stance as though she’s preparing for a fight, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Is there a problem?”

You groan dramatically, then rush past her, pretending to be aggravated as you make your way towards the breakfast spread that has remained untouched until you arrived and stuff a dry croissant in your mouth.

“I asked for a hot Hero! Sexy! I ask you to do your goddamn job and you hire a man with green Teletubby energy!”

Somebody beside you scoffs, and as the two of you glance in the worker’s directions, he’s unable to stifle his laughter before he walks off, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies with him. You twist your mouth to the side, hands on hips, then turn your attention back to Aya.

“So you’re telling me Dynamight, Red Riot, and Shoto were unavailable?”

Aya’s lips press into a thin line. Despite being your assistant, she’s still one of your closest confidantes and she bites back just as hard as you can, and as usual, she does so now.

“I said, don’t piss me off, Tinkerbell. I’ll have you know I spent a lot of extra time making sure to-” she stops chewing you out suddenly, her eyes wide, and you blink, then turn. 

Deku is standing right behind you, and you’re 100% certain he heard your exchange. If he’s upset, he doesn’t show it, instead he’s smiling sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck. 

“I think Kacchan was a bit busy and uh… Shoto probably wouldn’t have done this anyway, he’s not the type. As for Red Riot… that I’m not really sure...,” he trails off, pensive.

You blink at him rapidly as you crane your neck to look at him.

Pro Hero Deku is a lot taller than he looks on television. His face is still boyish and friendly, the harmless look not necessarily limited to television, but when you take a look at the rest of his countenance, broad shouldered and thick, it’s clear that there’s a reason why he’s topping the charts currently.

Even if his soft look doesn’t particularly scream sex appeal. 

“Sorry you’re stuck with me.” He bows politely, hands pressed against the sides of his jeans. “Let’s work hard together!”

When he rises, he’s looking at you with hopeful anticipation, and the way his eyes practically glow with earnestness actually upsets you.

You open your mouth then close it. The diva persona of yours isn’t without an ounce of empathy, but he’s already getting on your nerves. You look at Aya who gives you the glare she does when she wants you to behave, but you’ve already stomped your foot and stormed away.

Frustrated and unsure why.

“I’ll be at my trailer, call me when we get started.”

—

The problem is that he’s hot, and you hate to be wrong.

The type of hot that makes your head spin when you’re too close, that makes you forget the words you’re supposed to be singing to him, that makes the fans that blow through your wig and flowing clothing not enough to manage the heat that runs through your body.

“Get closer!” the videographer screams behind the camera and you swallow thickly as Izuku moves first, crossing the already minimal distance between the two of you to wrap his arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. It’s supposed to be a romantic, protective pose, and he’s not looking at you but at the camera, but he’s so close, he smells good, his clothes are dramatically torn, ripped in the way you’d expect after a tense battle but artificially so. Your heart thumps as if he were protecting you for real, and you hope he can’t sense it, the disarray that’s running from your center to your fingertips as you try desperately to figure out where to put your hands. 

“___, can you please find a way to make this look more natural?” you’re being barked at by your greatest hater and favorite employee.

Aya, please shut the fuck up, you want to tell her, but Deku hasn’t let you go. 

“Next take.”

Deku finally releases you and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He’s smiling, the makeup dust and grime and blood barely marring his handsome features, in fact accentuating them.

They didn’t have to make him look this good. You’re going to have a talk with the visual designer, this is getting ridiculous.

“Sorry, was that okay?” He’s still smiling, bashful as if he’s the one who can’t stop looking at you, and imagining how his hands would feel pressed against your chest, when it’s very clearly the reverse. You wonder for a moment how easily he attracts the opposite sex with this sweet boy act, as if the plentiful scars on his broad chest, littered over his arms and likely below the pants hanging low on his waist, creeping past the Adonis belt aren’t evidence that perhaps he’s not so toothless after all.

You want to practically smack him, he frustrates you so damn much.

“Adequate,” you answer. The director tells you to take five and you step away quickly, practically falling off the fake set rubble on your way down.

You can’t even stumble the way you want to, because Hero Deku is fast and is holding onto your arm before you can make your way down.

“You okay?”

Unwittingly, you give him a distressed look, and he lets go quickly, and you storm off.

“I’ll be in my trailer!” you announce again, while the workers grumble that you’re supposed to literally only take five.

Aya is chuckling to herself this time, because she’s clocked you a mile away.

Tinkerbell has a crush.

[kathlare]

fuck papaya rules

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando struggles with the aftermath of a heartbreaking race at the Italian Grand Prix, feeling betrayed by his own team and frustrated by his lost opportunity. As he vents to Amelie, she offers him comfort and perspective, helping him navigate his emotions. Despite their distance, their connection is evident, with both longing for moments of peace amidst their hectic lives.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: fluff

September 1st, 2024 - Monza, Italy

The Monza paddock was electric. The Italian Grand Prix had just ended, and while the Tifosi roared their approval for Charles Leclerc’s victory, the McLaren garage was a mix of silent tension and forced smiles. Lando Norris, who had started from pole position, sat slumped in his driver’s room, his race suit still on, his head buried in his hands.

He had it. Victory was within his grasp. But instead, he’d been boxed out by his teammate, Oscar Piastri, on the opening lap, both of them losing crucial time as they fought each other. Charles had taken full advantage, slipping past while Lando and Oscar scrambled to recover.

To make matters worse, the team had called over the radio, "Papaya Rules", granting both drivers freedom to race. Freedom, Lando thought bitterly, to screw up his shot at the championship.

A knock on the door broke his thoughts. His engineer peeked inside cautiously.

—Lando, team debrief in five minutes.—

—Fuck off.— His voice was low and cold, a far cry from his usual joking tone. The engineer retreated, leaving him alone in the quiet room.

As he stripped off his race suit and grabbed his phone, he felt the weight of frustration crush him. Five missed calls to Amelie. She wasn’t answering.

He sighed, dropping onto the bed in his hotel room later that night. His thumbs hovered over his phone screen, debating whether to send another message or let it go. Instead, his frustration boiled over.

Lan🧡: Call me. Please.

He shot off the text and tossed his phone onto the nightstand.

Hours later, Amelie stepped out of her trailer on set, her phone in hand. The midday sun beat down as she squinted at the screen, her heart sinking at the five missed calls and a slew of texts from Lando.

Lan🧡: Can you call me? Amelie, I need to talk to you. What the fuck is wrong with this team? Please call when you’re free.

Her stomach tightened. Something was wrong. Grabbing a water bottle, she stepped into a quieter corner of the lot and called him.

He answered, his voice still tight with frustration. —Amelie.

—Hey, what happened? I saw your texts and calls, and you sound… I don’t know, mad? Are you okay?— Her voice was calm, soothing, even though Lando could tell she was still in work mode.

Lando let out a bitter laugh. —Oh, I’m fucking fantastic, babe. You know, just lost a race I should’ve won. Just watched my own fucking team throw me under the bus for the sake of... "fairness."—

—Lando... what are you talking about?—

—Monza. Pole position. I had it, Amelie. I fucking had it. But Oscar, goddamn Oscar, decided it was his turn to play hero. We’re fighting on Lap One, Charles flies past, and then the team tells me, "Papaya Rules." Can you believe that shit? They let us fight, even though I’m the one with a shot at the title. Oscar’s out of the fucking running! Why even risk it?—

Amelie stayed quiet, letting him vent. She could hear the anger and hurt in his voice, the cracks where frustration met vulnerability.

—You should’ve heard me in the debrief,— he continued, his voice louder now. —I called them out. Told them they were sabotaging me. They didn’t care. They just smiled and said, "It’s racing." Racing, my ass. It’s politics. That’s what it fucking is.—

Amelie closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words. She knew he was upset, but hearing him so raw, so hurt, made her heart ache for him. She had been in situations where things didn’t go as planned, but this—this sounded like something deeper, something that touched the core of what he had worked for.

—Lando, listen to me.— She spoke softly, trying to calm the storm she could feel swirling in his voice. —I get it. I know how much this means to you. But... babe, you need to breathe. I know it's frustrating, but yelling at your team isn’t going to make them change what happened today. You did your best. You had pole. But sometimes... racing is just out of our control. It’s not always the way we want it.—

He let out a frustrated grunt. —I don't need a fucking lecture right now, Amelie. I just want to scream. I’ve worked my ass off for this title, and they just handed it to Charles on a silver platter. And Oscar? He’s not even close to being in the title race. He had no business getting in my way. And the team? They don’t give a shit. They just care about keeping it “fair” while I'm here fighting for the championship!—

—Lando... I’m not lecturing you.— Amelie’s voice was firm, but her heart was soft. —I know you're pissed off. I know you're hurt. And you have every right to feel that way. I would be too. But you need to calm down, okay? For yourself. I know you want to win, but this isn’t the end of the world. You’ll have more chances. You're still in the fight. It's just one race.—

Lando was silent for a beat. He knew she was right. She always was. But it didn’t make it any easier. —I just don’t know what to do anymore, Amelie. It’s like I’m stuck in this endless loop. I fight for every inch, and then something like this happens, and I feel like I’m getting nowhere.—

—Hey, listen.— Amelie softened her tone even more. —You’re not getting nowhere. You’re doing incredible things. You’ve worked so hard to get here. And you will get to the top. You have the talent, the skill. This is just a setback. You’ll bounce back from it. I believe in you.—

Lando felt a tightness in his chest. Hearing her speak to him like this, it reminded him of how much he relied on her. She had always been his rock, even when he didn’t realize it. —I just... I wish you were here. I could really use you right now. I’m going crazy in this hotel room, all by myself.—

Amelie’s heart softened at his words. She knew how much he was struggling, how hard it was for him to process everything. The pressure, the frustration—everything was hitting him at once. She wished she could be there with him, to comfort him, to help him find some peace in the chaos of his mind.

—I know, baby. I wish I could be there too.— Her voice was gentle but steady. —I really do. But I’m filming right now, you know how it is. It's not easy to get away.—

Lando’s voice cracked a little, still tinged with frustration. —I know, I know... It’s just, sometimes it feels like everything’s against me, you know? Like, I can’t catch a fucking break.—

—It feels like that sometimes. I get it. But listen to me, you are not alone in this. We’re in this together, even when we’re not in the same place. And I know you feel like you’re fighting a battle on your own, but you're not. I’m right here, Lando. You’ve got me. Always.—

Lando exhaled slowly, trying to take in her words, trying to let them calm the storm inside him. —I miss you so much, Amelie. I hate that we’re not together right now. It feels like everything’s better when you’re around. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this without you.—

—You’ll get through it, I promise. And we’ll see each other soon. Just hang in there, okay? And when I get back, we’ll talk. We’ll figure things out.— She smiled softly, even though he couldn’t see it, as she thought of their future plans. —Besides, I heard you’re off to Portugal with Max and Pietra next week.—

Lando let out a small chuckle, his mood lightening a bit at the mention of the trip. —Yeah, I know, I’m going to miss you. I thought you’d be there with us, but it’ll just be me, Max, and Pietra. Gonna be a weird vibe without you. But hey, I’m sure they’ll keep me entertained.—

Amelie laughed softly, teasing him. —Max will probably keep you occupied with his non-stop talking, and Pietra might just force you into a full-on workout routine. I can already picture it. You’re gonna need a vacation from your vacation.—

Lando smirked, though the tension still hadn’t fully left him. —Maybe. But I’d rather be with you. It’s just not the same without you. Maybe after your tour, we can plan a real trip, just us. Somewhere quiet, far away from all the racing shit. Somewhere we can actually relax and enjoy ourselves.—

Amelie’s heart fluttered at the thought. She loved how they could talk about everything and nothing at the same time, how they could dream together even when life was hectic. —I’d love that. I think we both need it. We’ll make it happen, I promise.—

But then, just as the moment felt like it was settling, Amelie heard a voice from behind her. —Amelie, we need you on set in five minutes.—

She sighed, reluctant to end the call but knowing she had no choice. —I’ve gotta go, babe. They’re calling me back to set. But I’ll be thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.—

Lando groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. —I know, I know. I’ll be okay. I just needed to hear your voice. Thanks for helping me calm down. You’re the best.—

—Anytime, Lando. I’ll call you when I can, okay? Just... don’t go breaking anything, alright?— She tried to keep it light, knowing that his mood was still delicate.

—Ha, very funny. I’ll try to keep it together. But seriously, Amelie... I love you.—

She smiled warmly, her heart swelling with affection. —I love you too. So much. Hang in there, alright? We’ll talk soon. Promise.—

As she hung up the phone and walked back to the set, Amelie couldn’t help but feel a mixture of emotions. She hated that Lando was going through this, that his race had been ruined by circumstances beyond his control. But she was proud of him for being strong, for fighting for his chance at the title.

And she couldn’t wait for the day when they could finally be together again, away from the chaos of their separate worlds. But for now, all she could do was send him love, support, and the reminder that he wasn’t alone.

[sunnynwanda]

Hello hello, dear brilliant writer. May I request a female hero × male villain, the hero is hurt and needs help and is basically dying but won't let villain get near them at ANY cost.

You fill the rest with your beautiful imagination ✨ 💕

Not his day

Today was not Villain's day.

Not only did he oversleep, but his coffee machine decided to be an ass today of all days and exploded in his face. Some jackass bumped into his car on the way to the hospital, and he was late to work. If that wasn't enough, his shift was hell. So much so that Villain almost forgot how fucked up the day had been from the start. That is until he got beeped to the ER again, for the seventh time that night and on his fourteenth coffee for a meal.

Villain made his way to the first floor, rushing because the case was marked as urgent, only to freeze the moment he entered the room, spotting the person on the bed. The idiot - his idiot - was flailing her arms around, demanding to be let go despite the long gash on her right side. Villain made his way over with a heavy sigh, only to get a pillow thrown his way.

"Hey, stop that," Villain warns, turning towards the nurse with a row of orders before returning his attention to Hero in all her chaotic glory. "I need to check your wound."

"No way in hell," Hero sneers, earning an eye roll from Villain. She leans back against the bed when her vision blurs. "Don't come near me."

"Let me see," he demands, not about to let her bleed out in a goddamn hospital. Not on his shift.

"Get the hell away from me," she practically yells, making Villain flinch because his head hurts as is. Hero's screeching was the last thing he needed today.

"You stubborn idiot, let me see it!" His patience is paper thin at this point, the godforsaken idiot of his already looking too pale. "You're bleeding out." He states bluntly.

"I won't let you maul me," Hero counters, defiant despite the sharp pangs piercing through her entire torso. She shifts back on the bed, wincing at the ripples of pain radiating from the wound all the way to her chest.

"I'm a doctor, you dimwit!" Villain growls, his eyes flaring with anger at the sight of her sore wincing. "I took an oath; I can't harm you."

Hero scoffs at that, sending him a deadpan look. He takes in Hero's cocked brow, correcting himself with an exasperated sigh. "I can't harm you here."

Villain waits until the nurse brings in the necessary supplies and gestures for her to leave the room. Once they are alone, he steps closer to the bed. "Who even did this?"

"None of your business," Hero grits through her teeth, still not giving up the cautious act but no longer attempting to throw anything at Villain.

"Oh, it is very much my business; you're my nemesis," he protests, eyeing her as he puts on a pair of gloves.

"I have other enemies, you know?" Hero informs matter-of-factly. Something about Villain's expression and approach makes her determination to avoid being treated by him crumble.

"I'm wounded, darling!" Villain exclaims overdramatically, his hand flying up to his chest. "Are you cheating on me?"

Hero rolls their eyes, unable to hide the amused grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, shut up."

"So you are," Villain nods slowly, his lips twitching into a smirk despite the concerned crease of his brow. "Knew it, pretty girls are never faithful."

"Excuse me?" Hero reacts before he can backtrack or bite his tongue. "Did you just call me pretty?"

"You're hallucinating," he claims, trying to come up with a believable explanation. He cuts Hero's shirt open to properly inspect the wound and to keep his hands busy. "Must be the concussion."

"I'm not concussed," Hero counters, now full-on grinning. Villain's inability to meet her gaze suddenly seems more important than her injury.

"Blood loss?" Villain suggests, sounding as unconvincing as it gets. If his hands weren't wrist-deep covered in her blood, he'd slap himself for such a lame excuse.

Wow, he forgot today was not his day.

"All my blood is inside," Hero claims, letting out a sharp breath when his fingers palpate the injured area. "Just where it should be."

"God, the medical specialist in me is dying to throttle you," he bites back, looking positively scandalized and earning a pained chuckle from Hero.

"But?" She prompts, sitting up to get a better look at Villain's expression and grinning cockily at his faux irritation. "What's stopping you?"

"That damn charming smile, that's what," Villain grumbles under his breath, rolling his eyes when Hero's grin grows wider. "Now get your ass back on the bed and let me take a proper look at that monstrosity."

A/N: Hey there, love :) Oh, isn't this just delicious! I had some fun with this, I gotta admit. Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy it! 💛☀️

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: Sorry this took so long. I moved city and pretty much have a new life. Still obsessed with Rust, though, so some shit sticks

Warnings: 18+, talk of war, alcohol, drugs, sex work, talks of past domestic violence, smut, just genuine misery between the two of them

America venerates suffering, that's what Travis had always told Rust. Sacrifice isn't pure if it isn't coated in a blood so red and so hot that your family can smear over their words, for centuries to come, excusing their comfort, their indulgence, their ignorance. They are afforded that comfort off of slaughter beyond their imagining. At least, that's what had happened after 'nam. A hero for his fucking country was the propaganda they had fed Travis; squash the bug of communism and, along with it, massacre millions of innocents, because what is America without its sons who are willing to fight for it.? Yeah, a fucking hero for a father, who's night terrors kept both of them up at night and who kept his engraved lighter saying High Speed Low Drag in his hunting jacket, always. That same lighter that Rust had used to light his first cigarette: rolled up flimsily in newspaper with the leftover tobacco and tufts of filter that he'd scraped from Travis' cigarette butts. The same lighter that Cassandra is now using to light her Marlboro Gold, hands shaking,

'Rust. That's all I get, huh? Not even a fucking surname?!' she spits, through a shaky exhale.

'I ain't gonna give you my surname. The less you know about me, the better,' Rust says back, his stoic demeanour attempting to mask that churning in his stomach. One that he has realised isn't for him but for Cassandra.

'Is Rust even your actual name?'

'You want a fuckin' social security number, too?' Rust drawls dryly.

'Don't you-Don't,' Cassandra's head shoots up from where it's been in her hands, her shaking tone now gaining a momentum of uncontrollable anger, 'Jesus-fuck. You men are all the fucking same. I-I ain't staying in this fucking place, anymore. Fuck it, fuck you, fuck every goddamn person in this wasteland of a place!'

Rust regards her with an even look,

'You ain't going anywhere. Not tonight. You ain't in the right state.'

'You ain't my daddy, motherfucker.'

'Goddamn right, I ain't but I'm also the only person you have who doesn't want to take advantage of you. So, hedge your bets tomorrow, baby, but tonight you're stayin' here,' Rust's voice is lapidary, stopping Cassandra in her tracks as she starts to shove clothes and books into her duffel bag.

'I said: you ain't my daddy and you sure as hell ain't keeping me in a place where I don't want to be,' Cassandra says in a tone equally as gelid, throwing her duffel bag over her shoulder. That elegant, fine-boned shoulder tinged with its bronzed hue; some of the love bites that Rust had left a few nights ago decorating Cassandra's collarbone. Rust fears that the sentiment festering under his skin is nostalgia. A nostalgia that scares him and, then, makes him cruel,

'No, Cassandra. I ain't your daddy cause all he did for you was get heavy handed with you and cut you up with his empty liquor bottles when he really wanted to teach you about mouthin' off at him.'

The colour drains from Cassandra's face,

'How the fuck do you know about that?' a sudden spark of spite reaches her as she sneers, 'Pull my file in your spare time, huh?'

Rust grabs her arm and yanks up her tank top, ignoring her yelp. He nods to the fine, white line along her ribcage,

'I ain't a fuckin' idiot, Cassandra. Skateboardin' fall, my ass,' Rust snarls, holding her ribcage with a calloused hand. Cassandra viciously claws at his hand, tears threatening to spill from her eyes,

'Get off! Get the fuck off!' and Rusts lets her go cause in that moment, the smooth, sultry cadence made slightly husky from after-sex cigarettes reverts back to the pleading of a little girl. Cassandra's words are devoid of any real bite, Rust notes. All that rage has been stripped away and all that she is left with is the panic of a little girl's voice turning into burning sobs in her throat; the stale cookies in her stomach turning sour from terror. There's that wide eyed looked, too. He can see it as Cassandra hastily covers herself back up and rearranges the duffel bag back onto her shoulder.

'Fuck you, Rust,' she says his name like it's a poison that she needs to spit from her mouth before it corrodes the flesh into a pulpy mess. Corrosion. Rust. That's what he is, it's what he does because sometimes corrosion is needed to get to the bone of things; to see what everyone else in too caught up in their delusions or affectations about fucking Natural Law to truly comprehend.

'Don't you fu-Cassandra!' Rust's voice boils up from his chest in a rough bark, watching Cassandra explode out of the trailer door, almost stumble down the rusted metal steps and collapse into the red dirt. He thinks he can't get any angrier until he realises that she's pocketed the keys to his Harley, on her way out, and sees her bolt over to where it's parked, behind the trailer. A cloud of dust rises up as the bike rumbles out of neutral and Cassandra desperately revs on the accelerator; her legs hardly off of the ground before the Harley tears away. In other circumstances, the dramatics of the exit would have made Rust scoff and chalk it up to youth's thirst for impact: the flurry of a scene. Not now. Not when this kid is tearing down a highway in a bike that doesn't have enough gas to make it to Liberty, let alone wherever the fuck Cassandra thinks she's headed. A kid, Rust thinks, A fuckin' kid that I've pulled into the abyss with me. Rust calls her a kid now but knows that when he finds her, he'll treat her like she's grown. A sentiment that propels him into his truck, cursing to himself as the engine splutters.

It doesn't take long to track Cassandra down; there's only one road from the trailer park that lead to the freeway. No doubt, where Cassandra is headed to. Ride fast and hard, and get the fuck out when the heat starts to sting: the classic cocktail of self-preservation cooked up by kids who've already been burned. There are too many of them down here, below that Mason-Dixie line. Rust would know. Fuck, if he hasn't spent his entire career on the force witnessing the aftermath. Drugs, abuses, assaults, homicides: you name it. The abuser becomes the abused; Nietzsche's infinite return has those poor kids falling flat on their faces into the nice shit storm of generational maladjustments that their parents left for them. Shattered dreams, skin sucked dry from mosquitos, teeth black and rotting from sweet tea, underneath that sticky southern sun. Rust wants to believe that it's an innate sense of duty towards these kids is why he's currently violating every Highway Code there is. And for part of him, it is. The other part, however, won't allow himself the comfort of what he knows is a lie. What started as pure sex appeal has started to morph into something deeper, messier.

The bike has even less gas than he thought as, the first Texaco that he sees, has Cassandra next to the pumps trying to wrench open the bike's gas lock. She wants to be caught, Rust knows, Wants me to chase after her, show her I give a shit. If she didn't, she would've gotten a hell of a lot more reckless. He watches her, almost with pity, as her pulls into the gas station and slows the truck to a halt, the breaks groaning with their lack of galvanisation. Rust shoves the car door open, his leather boots landing heavily on tepid asphalt,

'Get your ass over here,' his voice rough, as he strides over to Cassandra.

'I told you to get the fuck away from me,' she whips around, her fury making her abandon her previous task.

'Get in the fuckin' truck, Cassandra. I ain't doing the whole scorned boyfriend act for these nosey fuckers,' Rust deadpans, his ice blue gaze conveying to her just how fucking pissed he is.

'Did you hear me, motherfucker? I said to go back to your junkie biker brothers, find some hooker so that you can fuck out your half-baked emotional needs and leave me the hell alone,' Cassandra says with such venom dripping from her mouth that she almost fully means it; warm milk out of hand, she resorts to spite. Not fully, though: Rust can see the tears glazing her eyes and that's enough for him. A firm hand comes to grasp Cassandra's arm and put her in what is practically a headlock as Rust drags her to the truck. Cassandra's duffel bag slips off of her shoulder as Rust holds her firmly against his chest, bicep right up against the column of her throat. Some old man up from his pump, spit collecting at the corners of his mouth as he calls over,

'Everything alright over there?' Not from the area, Rust notes. Not solely due to the licence plate and milky arms but the slight wariness of his expression. A man unacquainted with the imperatives that the arrid terrain commands. The violence. Cassandra takes it upon herself to drop the unwanted attention as she chokes out,

'They don't teach you to mind your own fucking business in Iowa?!' the rage in her voice stemming from a deep humiliation in how she must look, Rust's arm tight against her neck. Rust takes in the man's mortification and grits into her ear,

'Shut the fuck up.'

He opens the truck door and shoves her in, slamming the door and heading over to the driver's side to catch her as she climbs out. Rust concedes her a heavy slap to the face before getting in, essentially crowding her back to the passenger's side. As he starts the ignition and pulls out of the gas station, Cassandra is eerily quiet, tears leaving hot tracks of salt and mascara on her cheeks. Rust debates on whether it's shame at getting caught or just pure desolation at, once again, finding herself completely fucked over, until he feels his jeans' waistband go slack. He feels the air hit that sweaty patch of back where the barrel of his .38 S&W was pressed and licks the inside of his cheek in an almost smirk. There she is, Rust thinks, knowing full well Cassandra's loathing of acquiescence as she points the gun at his temple, sweat curling his caramel hairs.

'Pull over or, I swear to God, I'll put your brains all over your goddamn car windows,' Cassandra's voice is firm but Rust sees her fingers trembling. Red. Her nails are lacquered the same colour as a Shirley Temple, poised on cool gun metal of the safety.

'You don't want to shoot me, Cass,' Rust says, his tone flat.

'Oh, I don't?' Cassandra scoffs.

'Nah, you wanna make a fuckin' scene so that I'll burst into tears and beg for your fuckin' forgiveness or some shit. That ain't gonna work on me, baby. I'm around too many pussies who ain't man enough to pull a fuckin' trigger, as it is. I can tell when someone's bluffin'. And you, Cass, I can sure as hell tell when you're bluffin'.'

'How are you so sure?'

Rust looks at a small trail leading off of the main road before sparing a sideways glance,

'That gun ain't even cocked.'

Cassandra narrows her eyes and pulls the hammer back,

'Happy?'

Rust steers the truck off of the road, onto the rocky country road, before stopping and turning to her,

'You wanna go? Go.'

Cassandra's gaze falters before she contrives it into that practiced indifference,

'You're kicking me out?' she says, her voice so fragile that Rust almost feels bad for putting her in this situation but tough shit: wisdom comes hard.

'Nah, just callin' your bluff. You got 30 seconds to go, if you want to,' Rust says, not even facing her but staring straight out ahead.

Cassandra stares at him, lowering the gun, and looks around helplessly. The tears come back, not when she looks at Rust's stony expression or the destitute surroundings, but when she looks at her duffel bag. All her life fitting into some beat up gym bag and, now, she's about to throw away the one thing that can protect her. A gun isn't shit compared to his hand on her ass and his fingerprints bruising her thighs; not to these fucking animals. Rust gives her the mercy of two minutes of silence before speaking,

'You ain't movin',' he says more as a statement than a question.

'Don't mock me,' Cassandra murmurs out.

'I ain't mockin' you.'

'You know that I ain't gonna go. I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to.'

'You can and you will, eventually.'

'I ain't sure, Cra-Rust. You ain't either.'

'Use Crash. I don't need you gettin' confused and fuckin' this up,' Rust says, gruffly.

'You sure that's it?'

'Am I sure 'what's' it?' irritation starting to creep into his tone.

'That the reason you don't want me using your real name is cause I'll jeopardise your cover.'

'I thought you were smarter than that, Cass.'

'What the fuck's that supposed to mean?' Cassandra suddenly straightens, her voice hard but still slightly tremulous.

'I thought you were smarter than to get your emotions mixed up with what is gonna keep your ass outta the crossfire.'

It's a low blow but it hits home. Cassandra looks down at her scraped knees, gravel and raw skin, before looking up again; her voice now a whisper,

'Do you feel sorry for me?'

Rust clenches his jaw, the simple juvenility of the question making him feel sick. He knows neither of them will be able to bear whatever tidal wave of sentiment is about to breach their carefully instated distance. The partial revelation of his true identity has already been more of an unmasking than he can stomach; especially to someone he cares so deeply for as Cassandra. Her knowledge of 'Rust' throws whatever the fuck they are doing with each other into something that goes beyond sex and protection, and Rust can begin to feel everything veering off track. He won't allow her to expose herself to him like this, not when he's already emotionally fucked her over so much, today. So, Rust finally turns to her and says,

'Take off your top.'

Cassandra falters, her voice still that hoarse whisper as she ask,

'What?'

Rust wills himself to turn his pity into scorn,

'Did I fuckin' stutter? Take off your top. Those shorts, too,' he says, his tone unnervingly even and made rough from his Camels. Cassandra stares at him for a moment before indulging him: shirt discarded first before she lifts her hips and awkwardly shimmies out of them. Rust notices her holding her side, her hand cradling the scar; something she's never really done until now. Not until Rust had forced her shame into the searing white light of recognition. He knows what Cassandra must be thinking, grouping him into that homogenous, male blob of ill-intent: her next job, her next dance, her next humiliation. He tries to pretend that it doesn't slightly tear him the fuck up when she looks at him with those eyes, now cold.

'What now?' Cassandra asks, sitting up with her spine long and upright, shoulders terse.

Rust pats his lap,

'Come here.'

'Rust, I-'

'I ain't ever remember sayin' you could call me Rust, Cass,' he says harshly, completely disregarding whatever appeal Cassandra's about to make over how to treat her. Pretty words that don't mean shit to Rust nor to this godforsaken part of the country. A place where women bring guns in their purses to hookups and there are wards for the babies born hooked onto opioids, has no use for floral, storybook sex. Here, it's fast and it's hard and it's painful and it's often paid for. Cassandra knows this type of sex, or rather its corruption. So, she shuts up and sits in Rust's lap; swallowing the bitter pill of docility.

'Move 'em to the side,' Rust taps the waistband of her panties with his knuckles. For a moment, a light tinge comes across Cassandra's collarbones at the crassness of the act. She hooks her fingers into the waistband, moving to pull them down, before Rust grabs her wrist,

'I say to take 'em off, Cass?'

'No,' Cassandra murmurs, trying to asses if Rust is pissed beyond belief or on some pretty loopy downers.

'So, you can hear me. I was thinkin' otherwise, given some of the shit you've managed to pull,' that dangerous mix of anger and worry begins to seep into Rust's tone. He can feel her wet heat through the lace of her panties; almost disappointed that she can get turned on by this shit. Old habits die hard, Rust thinks, lighting a cigarette and leaning back into his seat,

'Undo my belt.'

Cassandra stares at him, holding unflinching eye contact as she unbuckles him and unzips his fly. It's like a game of fucking chicken: which of them is willing to degrade the other more, for the sake of self-preservation. Rust exhales a slow stream of smoke watching Cassandra's thighs tremble from the exertion of holding her position. He quirks an eyebrow,

'You gonna tap out on me, baby?'

'No.'

'You wanted this shit that bad, didn't you, Cass?' Rust says, the forcefulness in his tone coming out of the pit in his stomach when he thinks what he's done to her.

'I did. I wanted this shit. Don't paint me out to be some dumbass little girl who opened her legs to the first man who reminded her of her daddy. That ain't what this is. I'm tougher than that, you know I am,' her voice starting to tremble again. Her hands absentmindedly wrapped around her midsection., as if to protect herself from the next laceration.

'You want it? Then move those fuckin' panties to the side.'

Cassandra stares at Rust with that fucking stupid bravado of rapacity, before gripping the crotch of them to the side; the tepid truck air mixing with the heady scent of her arousal and Rust's cigarette smoke,

'Go on. Fuck me like a man.'

Rust looks up at her while he pulls down his boxers, before grabbing her bruised hips and slamming her onto him. Not giving a fuck about the sharp, shuddering inhale. The lamb must learn to run with the wolves and Cassandra is far from a lamb. Especially as she is now, gulping down her whimpers of pain, desperately rocking her hips against his coarse hair to stimulate her little nub. She buries her head into the crook of his neck, nose rubbing against his jugular as Rust lands a firm slap on her ass,

'Don't get sentimental on me now, Cass,' he manages to grit out, feeling her arousal literally drip down him, 'Fuck am I gonna do with a weak lil' thing, huh?'

Cassandra tries to nod, her eyes squeezed shut and her groans muffled into the leather of Rust's jacket. Rust wraps his arms around her, holding her in a vice grip for the third time today, all of which have been some form of degradation or excavation of the dirty, nasty shit that Cassandra keeps hidden under sultry, bedroom eyes and that cutthroat tongue. At least this time, the aggression of the act is more tangible; neither of them are allowed any delusions. Not with how Cassandra's spit smears against Rust's stubble when he fucks into her especially hard or the cutting of taught lace on her hipbone or Rust's still lit cigarette burning dangerously close to Cassandra's dark waves. Apt symbolism, Rust thinks, as she angles her head to inhale from the tip; eyes starting to roll slightly at the mixture of in adverted friction of her bundle of nerves, and Rust's angry, frantic pace. She turns to look him right, as she leans her head in him, exhaling the smoke right into his mouth. Rust catches some powdery grey wisps, shoving Cassandra down once more onto him. As she groans, her hands never loosening, Rust leans in to mutter into her ear,

'You never fuckin' learn. Do you, baby?'

[brotherwtf]

Gale meeting John's family drabble bcs I'm obsessed with his family dynamic

----

Gale nervously wrung his hands together in the passenger seat of John's truck, only really looking up from the road when John would point to some obnoxious billboard or a funny looking bird. Gale would smile and nod, reply with a dry quip, and fall silent again. He usually wasn't like this.

John had told Gale that his mother invited them up to stay at their house for a little bit; wanted to see how they were adjusting to life post war and wanted to meet the notorious Buck Cleven. Gale had worried that John had let slip what they were, much closer than friends, but John assured him that she didn't know.

"She probably wouldn't even care. Poor old bird just wants to see me happy, all things considered," John had said.

And here Gale was, going to meet John's family and put on a good show of pretending to be friends. John mentioned that his mother was still alive, his father passed before he enlisted, and that he had two older sisters.

"Technically El is my twin, but she's fifteen minutes older and won't ever let me forget it. I'm the baby of my family," John says, turning onto a long gravelly drive that must lead to his family's property.

Gale smiles gently at the thought. John with missing teeth and a bright smile with equally bright sisters around him. Doting on him like Gale always did. Gale never had any siblings, lived only with his mother and father, and wished desperately that John's sisters liked him.

They pull in front of a charming ranch house and Gale smiles at how quaint it is. A modest two floor house painted a calming blue with pristine white shutters and a bright yellow door. Gale swallows thickly and his hands find each other again. John leans over into Gale's space, placing a hand on both of Gale's and kissing his cheek sweetly.

"Relax, Gale, they'll love you, I promise," John says.

Gale gives him a strained smile and sighs.

"What if they don't?" Gale worries.

John only smiles, eyes flicking to the sunny yellow door.

"Trust me, they like anything with a pulse. You might just have to be the devil incarnate for them to hate you. Speaking of..." John says, eyes now trained on the door.

It flies open with a whirlwind of brown hair and bright smiles. Two women scramble out to the truck, shouting at John and asking what took him so long. The one with longer hair practically yanks John from the drivers seat and sizes him up.

"Baby Bucky is decorated like a goddamn hero!" She crows and Gale smiles with how similar their cadence of voices were.

"I'm no baby, I'm a major!" John squawks and his sister just laughs, pushing his arm playfully.

"You're still a baby to me!" She hollars.

They both now turn to Gale, the shiny new object that John brought for them to play with.

"You must be Buck!" The other shouts with equal enthusiasm.

Gale had quietly gotten out of the car and was just observing John and his sisters catch up, when their eyes suddenly trained on him. He smiles nervously, afraid of being in the spotlight.

"Major Gale Cleven, ladies," Gale says, extending his hand out for a cordial handshake.

They both bat it away and bring Gale in for a hug anyway. God, they even smell like John did.

"My name's Jess, and that's El," The one with the long hair says, jabbing her thumb into her sister's stomach.

El laughs, shoving Jess away and they get into a playful slap fight that Gale can't help but laugh at.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Gale says, hauling his bag from the back of John's trunk.

El turns around and gives John a look of genuine surprise.

"How did you convince this sweetheart to mingle with the likes of you?" She balks.

John is by Gale's side now and throws his arm around his shoulder, bringing him in closer to his waist.

"Must be my stunning good looks," John beams and Jess almost throws something at him.

They walk into the house and Gale allows himself to take it all in. It's the perfect house for children, Gale thinks; large kitchen with a living room and a large radio on the windowsill. It's wallpapered with soothing colors and warmly lit. Gale genuinely liked the place.

"Gonna bunk with me, Buck?" John asks, wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

El intercepts them before they get to Johns room.

"Nuh uh, you got Buck all afternoon I want to get to know him," El says, grabbing Gale by the arm and attempts to take him down the stairs.

Gale looks back at John and just shrugs his shoulders.

"Duty calls," He says, and John throws him a wink.

Jess and El give him a tour of the house and Gale compliments when necessary, making sure to turn the charm up to eleven. They walk into the kitchen and Gale is immediately hit with the scent of fresh cooked food. There are already dishes waiting on the counter and Gale is dumbfounded.

"Is this all for me?" Gale asks, and he can feel tears welling in his eyes. He had never been this spoiled in his life, not even by his family.

"Ma's even making you a pie! Jesus where is that woman, MA!!" Jess shouts, peeking her out out into the living room.

John's mother is clearly where they got all of their looks from, Gale still hasn't seen a photo of John's father so he can only assume, all of the girls are practically a carbon copy of her. She has pale, green eyes that crinkle with crows feet when she smiles, wavy brown hair laced with grey, and the same smile Gale has seen in all of the Egan children.

"I hope Elise and Jessica aren't giving you a hard time, come here darling," She says, voice quivering with age and arms extended wide.

Gale wraps a careful arm around her and almost cries at the feeling. His mother almost never hugged him like this.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Egan. I thank you for letting me stay in your home," Gale says.

Mrs. Egan waves him off, pinching Gales cheek and smiling.

"Ah no Mrs. or Mr's around here, call me Anne," She says, and Gale does so with a smile.

The rest of the afternoon before dinner is El and Jess fussing around in the kitchen with their mother and John showing Gale the property. He kisses him every so often and Gale can't help but giggle; hasn't felt this happy in a long time.

"How you liking the family? They can be a bit much," John asks, linking his and Gale's fingers together.

Gale hums, looking up at the sky and smiling wide as ever.

"They're just like you, how could I not like them?" Gale says and John's smile gets instantly brighter.

They sit by the stream they wandered across and John decides to rest his head on Gale's lap. One of Gales hands lazily tangles in John's hair, massaging his scalp and just bathing in John's presence.

"Do your sisters know? About us?" Gale asks.

John shrugs shifting himself so he's looking up at Gale through wind swept curls. Gale smiles and wipes them away from his forehead.

"I guess they suspect. I would always talk to Jess about boys when I was younger and I think El is queer too, ran away with a girl from the Red Cross as soon as she could," John sighs.

Gale feels a weight get lifted off his shoulders, almost. John's sisters seemed too kind to care about such a trivial thing. But Gale wasn't quite ready to show their love to the world yet.

"Can we keep it quiet? Just between us? I want this to be all ours," Gale says.

John hauls himself up from Gale's lap and nuzzles his nose into his cheek, smiling gently at the way Gales lips turn up into a smile.

"Of course, doll. Just you and me," John says, and places a gentle kiss on Gales lips.

Later at dinner, El and Jess make jokes about marrying Gale themselves while John protests, claiming he found Gale first. Gale can do nothing but laugh and laugh, and he finally feels at home.

woah this was kinda long but I love Johns family (head in hands) they love Gale as much as John does 🥹🥹

[raineandsky]

#87

The hero shoves the villain into a seat at an agency desk in cuffs and abandons them there. The most of the outside world they’ve seen since they got here a month ago. “Where’s my supposed visitor then?” the villain snaps.

The hero ignores him in favour of walking back through the agency. Naturally.

They’re starting to suspect this is a test—left alone, apparently waiting for someone, the double-doored exit right in front of them? Come on—when the hero returns with someone in tow. Young, an absolute nerd, and not in cuffs. A citizen. 

The villain scowls as the hero gestures him into the chair opposite with a lot more grace than the villain ever gets the luxury of seeing. She has to keep up appearances to the innocents, they assume.

“Hello,” the civilian opens. Oh, he speaks like a nerd, too. This should be interesting.

“You have half an hour,” the hero says, pointedly aiming it at the civilian. “I’ll come back then.”

He nods and with that she’s off. The civilian adjusts his glasses on his nose for a moment. The villain stares at him in the hopes that they can unnerve him into submission.

“I’m studying psychology at the city university,” he says after an awkward pause. “I’m in need of a case study for my dissertation. I thought someone like yourself would make a good person to examine for my report.”

Clearly he’s had that little script written up somewhere. He throws them a smile, lopsided with nerves, and the villain scowls in response.

“I thought human experimentation was frowned on with the do-gooders,” the villain says shortly. That breaks the civilian out of his clearly practised speech; he positively blanches at the insinuation.

“Wh– I– It’s not experimentation.” The last word comes out like a swear—hushed, spat out like a bad taste. “I’d like you to be the subject of my dissertation. I want to be a therapist, you see.”

“A therapist,” the villain echoes flatly. “What, you’re going to CBT me into being an outstanding citizen?”

The civilian laughs, slightly. He seems like he’s not entirely sure if he’s meant to laugh at that. “If you’re open to it.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

The civilian leans back with a huff, resting an open notebook on his knee like a journalist. “So, where’d your interest in crime start?”

“Do I not get an incentive?” The villain tuts with dramatic annoyance. “You want me to tell you my tragic backstory for free?”

The civilian sits with that for a moment. His pen taps rather irritably against his book. Then, a ghost of a smile, a lot less lopsided than before and a lot more confident than the villain likes.

“If you give me something of note I could” — he waves his hands about rather broadly — “theoretically advocate for you. Prove that none of this is your fault and get you released.”

The villain was expecting him to offer a bag of sweets or something. That’s not an incentive to talk, it’s a goddamn reason.

The villain clears their throat. Shuffles on their rickety little chair. Heaves a deep breath.

“Well,” the villain starts, and everything that comes out of their mouth after it is a lie.

Why wouldn’t it be? This kid’s stupid if he thinks a villain is going to let him pin them down as a person. Besides, they don’t need to be studied—they like crime and they like doing it even more. Not exactly a mysterious case needing to be psychoanalysed.

The civilian hangs onto every word though, the naive kid he is. He scrawls notes furiously the entire time the villain’s talking, nodding enthusiastically and asking more questions here and there. The villain entertains him as much as they entertain themself.

“Half hour’s up,” the hero drawls upon her return. The civilian hops up with half a notebook of scribbles and a beaming smile. The villain would feel bad if they cared.

“Thank you, [Villain],” he says brightly, clearly ecstatic to have a villain on his side. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I’m excited to work together.”

“Pleasure’s all yours,” the villain says plainly, and with another unsure laugh the civilian turns on his heel and sets off. The hero takes on the brave duty of lugging the villain back to their dingy little cell.

The villain has no intention of changing, of course. The civilian’s little project will be a fun way to pass the time. If they just make note of the tale they’re weaving, they can tell him the most ludicrous stories and he’ll fall for them hook line and sinker.

Makes for good entertainment in an agency prison, after all.

[aliveinacoffin]

Hello. Can i please request a part 2 of Hating You As Well? It was so good! 😩 Can part 2 be Aizawa’s and readers relationship developing and getting better throughout the year or something? Maybe throw in some aizawa getting a little jealous over reader’s relationship/friendship with another hero (maybe midnight or snipe)? Thank you so much! Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to write a part 2! xx

AAAHH I LOVE YOU GUYS FR 😭😭😭 and but of course, i live and breath to serve yall munchkins.

Hating You As Well

(And Loving You Just As Much)

Part One, Part Two (you're here dummy), Part Three

Aizawa still isn't honest with his feelings, but you weren't exactly one to jump ship and demand a relationship. So now, in this grey area, you two are forced to co-exist, while other feelings grow and fester.

Fem!Reader, She/Her pronouns

TW!: Slight descriptions of violence, nothing too crazy, suggestive language

You two didn't speak about what happened on the couch afterward. You not wanting to bring it up and him just avoiding you. You got most of your papers graded, and when Aizawa finished with his portion, he rushed out of the living room. Your heart dropped to your stomach, watching him leave without a word. Sighing, you went back to your papers, trying to just get them done.

___________________________________________

The next morning was silent, the night before Aizawa hadn't come out of his room at all, and you watched his door, trying to listen to what he was doing. The next morning, you hadn't slept in, getting up early to go on a run. You knew Aizawa wouldn't be awake at this hour, but he probably would soon. So you started a large pot of coffee and grabbed a sports drink and made your way out.

The wait in the elevator was tedious, but you took the time to adjust yourself. Thinking about your life, thinking about him. Did you really like Aizawa? Maybe (yes), but did he like you? Maybe? I mean, there would be no other reason for him to also lean into a kiss, the feeling of his strong and large hand haunted you, fingers reaching around your shoulder blades. Dammit Hizashi, you spitefully thought to yourself.

But what would've come from it? Would there have been an awkward moment of 'where do we go from here?' or would there be an admission of feelings, but what feelings? Would there have been an unspoken moment of understanding?

You shook your head, willing away unnecessary thoughts. The elevator doors dinged open, and you happily trotted out, all you needed was an early morning run to clear your head, and everything would be fine.

___________________________________________

Okay everything was not fine.

When you came back, very sweaty and gross from your jog, you should work out more damn, Aizawa was already up. The slut* was walking around with absolutely no shirt on, and only the tightest goddamn pair of black boxers ever. His defined and scarred body on full display, lean but built body, languidly lounging around in the light morning sun. His dark and long hair was up in a messy bun, with a few strands of hair falling out. The scar beneath his eye was on full display, only adding to that rugged and overtly masculine look.

Cheap shot you bitch.

He was sipping coffee while leaning on one of the kitchen counters. Oddly on the one that faced the front door. He watched you pant in, immediately going to the cupboards to fill yourself a glass of water. You felt his eyes watching you, felt them watch and analyze every curve and scar, every dip and bump, every beauty and imperfection. You downed your cup, not acknowledging him in the slightest, lest you show the effect he had on you. Neither of you said a word to the other, not even a head nod to show that you had seen the other. Just ignoring him for the time being, with no complaints on the other end.

At the staff meeting later that day, you happily sat by Hizashi, joining in his excited chatter.

"I know this sounds cheesy, but I can't wait to see the students come back again! I've missed them." Hizashi swooned, a sad puppy dog look on his face.

You laughed and opened your mouth to join into his lighthearted admission before another voice cut you off.

"I don't, the little bastards have already gotten in enough trouble. I can't imagine what it'll be like when they move in." Aizawa grumbled out, looking in front of him with a disgruntled look.

You and Hizashi froze, just staring at him for a moment. He usually sat on the other side of you 'loudmouths,' usually too tired to deal with the shenanigans that you, said blonde, and Nemuri got up into. (Usually just passing notes between all three of you with the smashabiltiy of your coworkers and other heroes (also dicks, but not from the person you'd think)) So it was shocking to see him willingly sitting next to you three while earning a death glare from Anan, whose spot he'd stolen.

"Don't act like you don't love them you Tsundere. You'd probably eat your arm if it meant they were happy." You teased, sighing while you poked at him.

He deadpanned you for using such an outdated term but just grumbled while hiding his face in his scarf. Hizashi elbowed you, wiggling his eyebrows at you while smirking. You were confused for a second before you realized what he was implying, hitting his arm to make him stop. He yelped, angrily muttering curses at you while he looked down. Principle Nedzu loudly cleared his throat, standing up straight while looking at all of you. He clapped his soft hands, signing the beginning of the meeting.

___________________________________________

Well that meeting was a waste of your time. All the meeting was about how we should pay a little more attention to the students now that we're all in dorms. Those who work at night, namely Hizashi, Aizawa, Nemuri, etc., were asked to make sure they don't sneak out and do room checks randomly. Heroes who work in the day, you, Anan, Ken, and others were asked to make sure students acted right during the day, and stayed inside school property. Simple enough but...

"That could've just been an email." Nemuri sighed, peeling off her mask and putting her hair up. Ken was doing the opposite, putting down his cement-like hair and flattening it against his head.

"Agreed. I understand communication is important, especially during such difficult times but..." He sighed, rubbing his flat face.

"It's super annoying. We should all get coffee cups that say 'this meeting could've been an email' on them and just use them every time we have one." You sighed, adjusting yourself to make yourself more comfortable as well.

"Well, now that that's over, and we don't really have anything else to do...wanna go out for drinks?" Hizashi perked up, green sunglasses perched on his head, hair still gelled up.

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon." Aizawa scowled, looking disapprovingly at the man.

"I think he just wants to hang out rather than drink." You slung your arm over Aizawa. He scowled at you but didn't move your arm.

"No, I'm totally gonna drink." Hizashi said while walking backwards, already calling a cab.

"Oh yeah me too." Nemuri agreed, nodding her head.

___________________________________________

"I don't know why I came." Aizawa was acting pissy, laying down his head on his crossed arms, glaring at the loudmouths around him.

"Because you loveee us, admit it!" You sang, stirring the drink in your hands. You weren't drunk per say but you were definitely looser and happier now. "Cmon, won't you drink a little?" You looked down at him, smirk on your face.

He scoffed and looked away, sitting up straight. "Someone needs to get you home, and we share a living space, so I'm forced to babysit."

"Dawww, it's okay to show your emotions." You tugged on his uniform sleeve, putting yourself in his personal space.

"Hey!" Hizashi called out to you, definition more drunk than you were. "Let's do karaoke!" He motioned you over, pointing to Anan, who was already singing. You happily jumped up, waiting behind Sekijiro to sing.

When it was your turn, your singing was horrid. It was off-key and loud. Most of your friends just laughed and egged you on, spurring you to sing louder and worse. Still, even in your fuzzy mind you recognize on pair of dark eyes just staring at you. Not in a negative way, no, there was something in his face and eyes that made you quiet down some. Just so he knew you were singing for him.

___________________________________________

You don't know how you got home, but you did. Looking at the time, it was seven PM at night. You groaned, rubbing your head while your other hand limply hung off the couch. An oversized jacket was forced on you, baggy, and so so warm.

"Drink this." You looked up to the dark presence above, squinting at the harsh contrast of the shadow to the bright apartment. You got up and groggy drank the water.

"Thanks." You sighed, looking up at Aizawa.

"Sure. Just try to be more responsible next time. You have an image to uphold." He snatched back the cup when you finished, which you realized had prints of black cats on it.

"Mehmehmehmeh." You made a face, mocking him in a high-pitched voice while making a puppet with your hand. The man you were making fun glared at you from the kitchen, activating his quirk while washing your dish.

"I'm being serious. Anyone could've walked in and seen a UA teacher acting a fool at a bar." He growled, now in the drying process.

"Ahh, it was one drink! And plus, none of our dear students are gonna walk into a bar." You got up stretching, scratching your leg while walking past him.

"It was more than one drink!" He called out to you.

"One, ten does it matter?" You replied, entering your bedroom and shutting your door behind you, ending the conversation.

The next morning, you found yourself with a jacket you'd never had before. It was baggy, many sizes too large for you, and something right out of a goth magazine. You don't know where you got it from, but it was warm and comfortable, plus it smelt nice, so you added it to your closet.

___________________________________________

The students finally arrived and settled in the dorms, now UA dorm life was in full swing. It was peaceful to see such vibrant characters and youth constantly surround you, it filled you with a new vigor. That was, until now.

Loud crashing woke you up in the dead of night, and you immediately jumped up into action. You didn't yell or scream. Instead, you grabbed a flashlight and a small knife. You slowly opened your bedroom door, crouching out and keeping close to the wall. There was a large imposing figure standing in the middle of the hall, leaning against the wall while fussing with their boot.

Taking the chance, you kicked off the wall and laughed yourself forward. Landing on the interlopers back, you wrapped your arm around their neck, using your free hand to press the switch blade on their face. Your legs immediately wrapped around their muscled frame, trapping yourself onto them.

"What the fuck are you doing in my home." You growled in their ear, putting pressure on the knife to start to dig into their cheek.

"Getting my dumbass kids." Aizawa growled out, hands trying to rip you off of him.

You froze for a second, eyes going wide and mouth going slack.

"Huh!?" You yelled out, toppling off of your roommate. Knife clattering somewhere into the kitchen.

Aizawa turned to you, pissed off and resuming his fussing with his shoes. He tilted his head in your direction but not looking at you. You sat on the ground, still processing everything.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Did I get you anywhere?" You finally came to your senses, scrambling up to check him. Grabbing his chin, you tilted his head back and forth, inspecting.

"I'm fine. I've got to go." He ripped his head back, leaning away from your touch. He finally got his boots of fully, walking into the kitchen and to the front door.

"No you're not, I cut you." You ran into the kitchen, pulling out the first aid kit from under the sink.

"It's fine." He was already at the door, but you ran to him and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"No, it's not, I could've really hurt you." You had grabbed an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid to clean up the cut you made on him. It was small, a nonconsequential wound. But you still took delicate care to cleaning it and covering it up. He didn't get the chance to see what kind of bandaid you put on him, but he felt that it was small.

"As if." He mumbled, eyes fluttering closed as he accepted your gentle touch. There was no bite in his tone, like he was just saying it to say it, to keep up an image. You pulled back, and gave him a once-over.

Aizawa opened his eyes again, and turned to the door to hide his face from you.

"Now you can get your dumbass kids, asshole." You smiled softly, and even if he couldn't see your face, he registered the softness in your tone. The fondness.

When Aizawa got done with yelling at his two problems children, he turned and stomped away, leaving them to be angry at him.

Midoriya remembered something for a moment and hesitantly turned to his rival/best friend.

"Hey Kacchan, was there a Hello Kitty bandaid on his face?" Midoriya seemed a little dumbfounded. It couldn't be true, Aizawa with a bandaid on his face, let alone a Hello Kitty one?

"Hah? The fuck are you talking about?" Bakugo was still clearly pissed, but he was more taken aback than angry.

"That little pink sticker on him, I could swear I saw Hello Kitty on it." Midoriya responded, adamant that he did see it.

Bakugo was silent for a moment, and the freckled boy thought he was ignoring him. So he just sighed and returned inside.

Bakugo smirked a little, now fully remembering. Yeah, he was.

___________________________________________

The next morning you decided to ask what happened.

"My two biggest problems decided to sneak out and fight. It hasn't even been a week, and they're already trying to kill each other." Aizawa angrily muttered into his cup of coffee.

You stared at him for a second, pursing your lips. "Did you expel them?" You tilted your head, eyeing him warily.

"I wish." He chuckled, drinking his coffee.

"Ah, so they're your favorites." You smiled, wiping your hands and heading to serve yourself a plate of food. You heard the stern teacher sputtering behind you, coughing as a result of his reaction.

"I have no favorites, and those two would never be them." He responded, setting down his cup heavily.

"But you didn't expel them. You just gave them house arrest and chores. Your favorites." You shrugged, turning around to smirk at him.

"Well, it..." Aizawa shook his head, face pulling into one of anger as he looked for an excuse. He gave up, flopping his hands down to look at you. "They'll learn. They just need more discipline. It's hardly a call for expulsion."

"Let's see," You set down your toast to count examples. "Sneaking out after curfew barely a few days into moving into dorms, destructive of school property, assault on another student, three students snuck out without permission to save another classmate, Midoriya being the ringleader, anddd..." You screwed up your face, and you tried to remember more. You snapped your fingers and pointed at the scowling Aizawa. "Oh! First day, you should've expelled Midoriya and transferred him to another class, but you didn't." You leaned on the counter and tilted your head. "Instead, you let him stay in the hero course because you believed in him. Plus, that whole unwritten speech about Bakugo when he was kidnapped? There was nothing in our notes that said anything of what you said. But you said it anyway, from your heart."

Aizawa had a carefully neutral face, just staring at you while you grilled him.

"So my only crime is believing in my students." His voice was monotone, any semblance of emotion wiped from his face. If it were anyone else, you would've thought they were pissed at you or angry. But you knew better, you recognized that face from last night. The 'I'm pissed because I expected better from you' face.

"No," You grabbed your plate and walked past Aizawa to lounge in the living room, patting his shoulder as you walked. "Your only crime is having a huge heart, but the inability to even show you even have one."

___________________________________________

There was no real reason for you to be here, you thought to yourself. You barely helped out when the kids picked out their ultimate moves, and you were definitely not one of the teachers who regularly trained with the kids, but you still found yourself being dragged to go to the hero licensing exams.

You adjusted your hero costume, pulling down and pulling up the outfit where need be.

"Why am I coming again?" You asked Aizawa, turning to him to see he was already staring at you.

He shrugged, "Principal Nedzu just said you were to come." He looked away, fiddling with his phone while he waited for you to get ready.

"Well, sure, I got that, but he didn't email me, and I don't exactly see why-" You were still pulling yourself together, grabbing an over-the-shoulder bag and checking whether or not you had your keys, your wallet, and extra makeup and other stuff you might need.

"Are you ready yet? At this rate, we'll hold up the whole class and make them late." He interrupted you, crossing his arms impatiently.

You deadpanned him and adjusted the strap. "Yes, I'm ready. Dick." You stuck your tongue out at him while he held the door open for you, trying to push you out.

"You need to watch your mouth more. Who knows who's listening." He scolded, pressing the elevator button. The elevator dinged open, and you two stepped inside. Aizawa went to press the floor button, but you beat him to it. He gave you a look.

You smiled. "I like pressing the buttons."

"What are you, a child?" He scoffed.

"Then you'd be a predator." You shot back without thinking. Both of you realized what you meant by that, but before you could spit out on explanation, the door opened again.

Hizashi strolled in, whistling a tune. "Hey guys!" He cheered, ignoring the tension behind him. "What's up?" He turned around, looking at your blushing face and Aizawa's blatant ignoring of you.

"Nothing, what are you up to?" You chuckled, rubbing your head.

"Gonna go out and be a radio host and communications guy." He smiled, but you heard the strain in his voice.

Your bashful attitude dropped, and you held out a hand. "Hey, don't spread yourself super thin." You advised, voice full of worry.

The elevator dinged to all of your last stops, and Hizashi strolled out before the two of you, walking backward to face you.

"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine." He waved you off, turning around to walk normally with his hands in his pockets.

"I worry about him sometimes." You admitted, stuck in place. Aizawa walked out before you, holding the elevator so it didn't close on you.

"He's fine, trust me. Hizashi doesn't think about much other than music and having fun." He shrugged, looking off.

"That's because he thinks through you. He speaks Aizawa and thinks Aizawa." You stepped out, walking out the bottom common room to the main grounds of UA.

Aizawa shrugged, not saying anything as he followed you. You looked out to all the excited students, the air buzzing with conversation.

Aizawa got his classes' attention, speaking to all his students.

"Now listen up. This is the most important test of your life, and only fifty percent of the whole student body will pass." That made the class tense up and freeze, dramatic whispers grew between them. "Even though some of you are in trouble." He made direct, unashamed eye contact with both Midoriya and Bakugo, "You will all take the test. Now let's go before we're late." He led the class in the bus, you two being the last ones in.

"They're your favorite." You sang, tapping your knees. You two were sitting in separate seats, but you two were as close to the edge as possible.

"Keep your voice down." He snapped but didn't deny it.

___________________________________________

Ms. Joke was awesome.

She shamelessly flirted with Aizawa, if not being a bit pushy with it, and teased him.

You knew of her, you had some run-ins with her when you first debuted. She was a light-hearted, strong woman who had a good sense of humor, she often used to make you double over in full-out belly laughter. But there was something different this time, she was funny, that didn't change, but you weren't laughing so hard you cried now.

"Eraser," Ms. Joke was barely holding back laughter now, "Your fly is down."

You and Aizawa sat next to each other while Ms. Joke was two seats away from you two. That... wasn't all that funny....huh. Maybe Aizawa's bitterness rubbed off of me? Aizawa just sat there like he hated the world, but especially her right now.

"I can't believe you have a full class! Usually, you would've expelled someone by now. You must actually like your class." She turned to him, and you leaned over.

"Right! I think he has a secret soft spot for all of them, but especially-" You exclaimed, excited that some outside of UA had noticed this.

Aizawa cut you off by putting his hand in front of your face, now angry at the world, Ms. Joke, and you.

She laughed, and you giggled. "You're so predictable! Date me." Ms. Joke immediately turned to him.

"Shut up." He scowled, and she just laughed in response.

You sat back up now, looking at him teasingly. "If I have a say-"

"You don't."

"I think you two would make a great couple!" You grabbed Aizawa's shoulders and leaned him to the loud woman, and she just laughed in response. Strangely, you could see her breath from this angle, but you could also see Aizawa's hair float up for a mere second before it dropped again. An action so small and unnoticeable that if you hadn't been so close, you wouldn't have seen it.

You let go, and she leaned to you two, a slightly angry look on her face.

"But c'mon, you both know what's going to happen in just a few seconds." Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, a strained smile.

You looked at the dark man beside you, really he sticks out pretty bad here, and gave him a confused and slightly scared look.

You heard her say something earlier, but you had no idea what it meant, let alone now.

"And yet, you didn't say a thing to your class. Every year the test is always different." She rested her chin on her fist, looking determined out on the field. Aizawa was blankly doing the same, but there was a different look in his eye, one you recognized. One of a teacher who knows what his students can do.

You were shifting on your seat, watching class 1-A break up into factions, trying to understand what the other woman was saying.

"It's a tradition during the exam, most if not almost all of the students have equal footing. Except for one." She dropped her hand, sitting up straight. You were watching her, a feeling of foreboding coming over you as she delved more and more into her dramatic rant.

"UA has a serious disadvantage. Showing off the country's top schools sports program to the whole country, which showed off not just your students' quirks, but their weaknesses and their fighting styles too." Your eyes widened, and you turned back to the field. Watching the majority of the class you grew to care about deeply, be unknowingly followed. "It's a little funny, isn't it?"

That made your heart race, surprise written all over your face. Aizawa ignored her, eyebrows deepening.

"If you actually liked your class this year, you should've warned them about this. It happens every time your school takes the exam, UA is immediately crushed." She said, and to prove her right, a crowd of students all aimed for one group. Yours.

You looked at Aizawa, wondering why he kept quiet about all this. He glanced at you briefly before nodding his head back to the field with the tiniest of motions. That feeling of dread was replaced with pride as you watched Midoriya effortlessly kick away a storm of balls with one kick. From this angle, Ms. Joke assumed you turned away from Aizawa, feeling a little awkward that she had now seemingly made you upset. What she didn't see was your proud smile, your smirk of arrogance. Yeah, they'll be fine.

"I don't really see a reason why I should've warned them. Nothing would've changed if I did, either way, they would've had to deal with it." You and Aizawa watched as your students effortlessly dodged and moved, using their quirks to the best of their abilities to take back the advantage that was stripped away from them. It was taking everything in you not to just cheer out for them, not to scream, hell yeah!

"Real heroes turn around any situation. Besides, when they become pros in the spotlight, they'll have to face villains who already know their quirks." His voice was stern and sharp, with no room for argument. "Perhaps at UA, we look further ahead than other schools." Even though he still had that monotone voice, Aizawa had a passion for his students, one that he barely contained.

A dark shadow fell over the laughing woman's face, now at an angle where she could see the both of you. She watched with bated breath as you watched Aizawa. Smiling while she huffed out a nose laugh. She recognized that look, looking down at her ring finger, she fiddled with the gold ring. There were rings decorating all her other fingers, but the one on that ring was the first and most important one. She's made that face hundreds of times at her own wife, and only a fool would mistake it for anything else.

___________________________________________

“‘UA looks further ahead than other schools’, huh? That’s pretty condescending of you to say Eraser.” Ms. Joke piped up, the two had been going back and forth, but you decided to ignore their banter in favor of anxiously watching the students, afraid. “There are as many kids who want to be heroes as there are stars in the sky. The strength of that will has nothing to do with being famous.” Ms. Jokes face had gone back to being serious, and it made you a little unsettled. The woman, in even the short amount of time you’d known her, had taken everything with a grain of salt. Never the one to take offense to someone's words or actions. But here she was scolding Aizawa. They really were the same. They hide the same deep love and care for their students, and the moment someone says something slightly mean, they pop off.

“If you act like you’re the stars of the show and look down on everyone else, then you’re only showing off your true weakness.”

While her words were true, they seemed a little misplaced. Aizawa constantly humbled the students to remind them that no matter how far they got, they would always have room to grow and improve. Not just in their physical strength, but their mental capabilities as well. Maybe it was about the students themselves? Bakugo and Monoma were the students that popped up in your mind immediately.

“You’re right, we will take your advice and make sure our stars don’t think they’re the only ones who shine.” You nodded, sliding your eyes over to her. She nodded, a small smile on her face. Aizawa looked over at you in a questioning manner. 

“Our students are great and all, but sometimes they need to be reminded that they’re not the main character, even if they act like it.” You smiled slightly, easily finding Bakugos yelling from in the arena.

“...Agreed.”

___________________________________________

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the test ended. Rubbing sleep from your eyes you walked by Aizawa while he went through the paper work he now needed to fill out. 

“You know, I’m starting to see why you’re so tired all the time.” You laughed, tapping the stack of appears in his hands.

He gave an airy laugh, “Sometimes I think they do it on purpose.”

“Well, I can do some it for you. I don’t spend as much time with the kiddos like you do, but I’m sure I could get the hang of it.” You offered, slightly pouting your lips. 

“You’d probably mess it up, or mark them in that atrocious pen you have.” He shook his head, tilting the papers away from you.

“Huh?! Why do you have such little faith in me!? I’m trying to be nice, you-” Kaminari was with his usual group of friends, but he was side-eying the two of you, snickering while watching your interaction. “Jerk.” 

“Good save.”

“Shaddup.” You punched his arm, snatching some of the papers away from him. “I can do this, no sweat, and I promise to use a normal pen.” 

He glared at you, before sighing and shaking his head. “Fine.”

Ms. Joke trotted up to you two and offered to do joint training. Aizawa accepted the offer and walked away, loading all the students onto the bus. 

She turned to where you were still standing, trying to organize and smooth out the stolen reports. “My real name is Emi Fukukado, by the way.” She held out a business card in her gloved hand.

You took it appreciatively. 

“Thanks!” You introduced yourself in turn, shaking her hand.

“Hey, between us two, you and Eraser would make a pretty cute couple.” Fukukado said nonchalantly, smiling easily.

“Hah?!” You exclaimed, freezing on the spot. Your face grew hot, and you tightened your grip on the jokesters hand.

Fukukado pulled away, smile never going away. “I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him, and Aizawa doesn’t put up with just anyone you know.” She laughed slightly, putting her hands on her hips. “Trust me, my wife looks at me like that all the time, and we’ve been married about ten years now!” 

“Hahhhh?! You’re married?!” 

___________________________________________

“You didn’t know? She always wears her wedding ring.” Aizawa sat down heavily beside you on the couch, grunting while he leaned forward. 

“She wears like, ten. How would I know?” You shrugged, pulling down the black pen behind your ear, unglittered unfortunately, to continue your journey of legal HPSC papers. 

“Didn’t you know her when you were younger?” He raised an eyebrow to you, his dark hair out of his face and into a bun.

“Yeah, but we weren’t friends. It was more like, you’re a young woman in the same male-dominated field as me, if anything goes down we’ll have each other's backs. Not friends friends. I literally just learned what her name is.” You turned your attention to the work, already halfway through your stack, while Aizawa was just starting his.

“Women are weird.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? You’ve known Hizashi since high school and you still deny you two are literally best friends.” You rolled your eyes, remembering how vehemently Aizawa denied the two literally aren’t two peas in a pod.

“Because we’re not. We’re good friends.” You groaned and flicked a pen cap at him. He growled at you, but otherwise turned back to his work.

“Anyyyways, I still feel kinda bad that Todorki and Bakugo failed. That test was really important, and they’re the only two in 1-A who failed.” You sighed, eyes running over Bakugo’s paper.

“That’s their own fault, if they had seen above their own hubris, they would’ve acted better and passed. They will learn to do better at the retake.” The dark-haired man shook his head, sighing.

“True, it was their own pride that was their downfall.”

“Make sure to mark the date in your calendar, it's about three months from now.” He added nonchalantly, now fully focused on the papers.

You looked up and made a confused face. “Why would I need to, I’m not their homeroom teacher?” 

He didn’t respond for a moment, avoiding eye contact. You saw his ears go red slightly at the tips, perking up. “Because you went with me to the first exam, why not help me at the provisional?” 

“W-well, I guess. But I won’t be of much help.” You looked away, remembering the words Fukukado told you the other day making you go hot yourself. 

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds now were the ticking clock and the sounds of papers shuffling and pens scraping. 

It was nice.

___________________________________________

“Wait wait wait-” You were laughing now, holding a hand over your mouth. Hiazshi was smiling at you, and Midnight was shaking her head in disbelief. “He got naked?” 

“He didn’t get naked, his quirk made his clothes phase through him. So he ended up naked. There’s a difference.” Aizawa shook his head, sipping his coffee.

You laughed out loud now, leaning on Hizashi’s shoulder while he joined with you.

“I was shocked at first too! I mean, yeow! Everything was out.” That only spurred you on more, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Oh man,” You sighed, wiping away those tears. “I hope they helped him out with his costume, I mean, there’s no way that's safe.” You shook your head, sitting on Hizashi's armchair now.

“They did, they made it out of his hair, so it would phase with him.” He nodded, stuffing food in his mouth. You quirked an eyebrow but ignored it.

“That must’ve taken forever.” 

“Yes, it did.” Aizawa butt in, now fully paying attention to the both of you. You couldn’t see Hizashi smirk, but you were caught off guard by such aggressive behavior. 

“Oh,” You looked away, now feeling slightly awkward. “What was the point of them visiting, anyway? I mean, not that it’s bad to introduce the classes to the big three, but why now?” 

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “To have them talk about the work studies.” 

The air in the teacher lounge shifted, now to a tense one. There was a meeting the day before the new term started, an open discussion on whether or not UA students should be allowed to even let them participate in them. Just like the internships, it was a heavily debated argument. You, Aizawa, Snipe, and Anan were against it, saying it well it went last time would only embarrass/harm UA’s reputation further. Nemuri, Sekijiro, Ken, and Ectoplasmi were for it, their reasoning that the students would need the practice. Others fell in between and allowed themselves to be swayed by the opinions of others.

“Oh.” That was all you said.

“Yeah.” That was all he replied with.

When the school day ended, Aizawa met you at home. He angrily kicked off his boots and hung up his capture scarf by the door. You turned around from the sink, hands wet from washing the dishes.

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” He looked up at you, standing at the doorway. “I don’t agree.”

“I don’t either.” You turned back, immediately knowing what he was talking about.

When the HPSC had first sent the letter to UA stating they would like the school to participate in the work studies, the teachers erupted in conversation. When the staff didn’t agree, Aizawa stood up an brought all the attention to him.

“Did we forget what happened the first time we allowed our students into the hands of the HPSC? My own students had gone off and could’ve gotten killed. I had no idea, thanks to the lies administered by the commission. Do we need a repeat of that?” He sat back down, looking angrily out at his fellow staff. You stood up beside him.

“I agree, who knows what danger is out there, and we all know from the past that the Hero Commission will just lie to us.”

Snipe nodded in agreement beside you. Ectoplasim stood up. “I assume your classes will have their provisional licenses now? Our students have grown since then, and they now have the ability to make their own calls and decisions.” He rebuttled. This statement only made a fight break out.

In the end, your side lost.

Aizawa was leaning on the counter beside you, hands clutching the counter in a white-knuckled grip. “They lied to us, three students could’ve died.” His voice cracked at the end, face screwed up in anger. You whipped your head at him, looking at him wide-eyed.

You decided not to say anything about his emotions, instead, you dried your hands and turned to him fully. 

“Want to spar?” You offered, holding out his goggles. Aizawa stared at them, then stared at you for a long moment. He snatched them up and quickly put them on. Wordlessly, he got back dressed in his hero outfit, and you complied by getting your shared duffle bag and followed him out. You both had decided to share a bag, hey, it would be easier to carry one than two, since you spar so often anyways.

___________________________________________

The next few weeks became hell. Immediately something was brewing, you, Aizawa, and other UA students were invited to an important meeting hosted by Sir Night Eye. You’ve heard of him, mostly through what you know about All Might, but you have never really seen him in action. He was a pretty cool dude, if not a little too serious for your liking. You could only deal with one grumpy man in your life, you didn't need to. There were also friends you made through your line of work, like Toyomitsu/FatGum, Takagi/Rock Lock, and Mr. Brave, you never learned his name, interactions were always brief, but friendly.

You mostly just listened in, you didn’t really have any new or helpful information to hand out to aid in the meeting. You had become slightly boring ever since you became a hero at UA, hero work slightly slacking now that tests and assignments stood in your way of aiding your friends. That is why you had an uptick in your sparring matches with Aizawa, no excuse to fall behind.

Takagi spoke up, questioning why your students were here in the meeting. Toyomitsu, in a burst of passion, declared that the students had valuable information to share. He then introduced himself, and when his attention turned to your side of the table, you waved at him happily.

Aizawa looked at you through the corner of his eyes, a small smile on his face. You elbowed him in response, brushing him off. Aizawa was called to speak, and his leg started to bounce from under the table, only you noticed.

“The bullets effects seem to be different from my Eraser. When my quirk is activated, I don’t attack the quirk itself, instead, I temporarily affect the genes themselves, but no permanent or harmful damage is done.”

“Immediately after Takami was shot, we rushed him to the hospital to have him looked at. We found his quirk was deactivated, but thankful after his rest he was returned back to normal.” That was a relief, not only were the effects of the bullet temporary, like Takagi had said, but the effects weren’t harmful in the long run. When it was revealed that the contents of the bullets were filled with human blood, everyone froze. Disgust filled you, wondering what kind of person would do that. 

“A man named Kai Chisaki is the young Yakuza head of this group, and is turning his daughter's body and blood to make the bullets.” You had decided to tune back into the conversation at the worst possible moment, or maybe you tuned out during the worst conversations of your life, your body tensing up as horror filled you. Aizawa sat slacked beside you, his eyes widening in horror as well. Tears sprung into your eyes, and your hand immediately flew up to cover your trembling mouth. How..how could anyone do that to a little girl? Let alone their own daughter?

The meeting went on with the same tense and angry energy, people piping up with their own angry opinions. You watched with a feeling that you were floating outside of your body as Nighteye folded more and more into himself. The pressure everyone putting on him only added to the guilt you knew he carried. 

The meeting was over late into the afternoon, and packets and folders of information were handed out to all of you. Aizawa was to patrol more in the designated at night, and any possible chance you were to follow yours.

Now you were situated in Aizawa’s car, his hands gripping the steering wheel while you leafed through both folders.

“Lock Rock is right. There’s no need for them to be there.”

“I know.” Your voice was watery, sniffing while you tried not to cry onto the packets. “But we don’t have a choice.”

There was silence when he rolled up to a red. A large hand came into your peripheral, pulling the folders away from you. Aizawa threw them in the back of his car, and you heard them scatter. 

“Don’t worry about that now, we can go through them when we get home.” You looked up at him, and while his expression was still guarded and hard, there was something soft hidden in his face. Maybe it was the way his eyebrows were turned up ever so slightly, or his sad eyes, either way, you nodded.

“I just hope we can save that little girl. She’s so small, and she must be so scared.” The light turned green, and he resumed his journey.

“We will, I know we can.”

___________________________________________

The next few weeks were hellish, after school you barely saw Aizawa, and he in turn hardly saw you during breaks/lunches/and during the weekends. You worked from sun up to sunset, using as much time as you could. During the day he worked with the others to make sure everyone was updated on information, whereas during the night you caught up on both your school work and added your own information. You left coffee and easy lunches for him to take out, and he left you jelly packets and energy drinks. 

Finally, there was one day when both of you were home, lying exhausted on the couch together. You were lying on your back, hands covering your eyes while you rested your legs on his. Aizawa complained at first but made no move to stop you, too focused on his iPad sifting through and adding important information. 

“Apparently, Nighteye has picked out people he thinks are assisted with Kai Chisaki. He’ll try to find out more before we move further.” He said out loud, not doing anything to get your attention.

“Good.” Your voice was raspy and tired, flopping your hands down you could barely keep them open. “I’m so tired.” Your voice was filled with pure exhaustion, running on less than thirty hours of sleep for the whole week.

“Me too, I can feel this coming to an end.” You could still hear him clicking away.

“God I hope so, I just want to save her already, I’m starting to see Eri in my goddamn dreams.” You shook your head, tears hotly running down the corner of your eyes. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was because of how emotionally drained you were, but you just couldn’t hold back the floodgates.

You heard Aizawa stop tying, but you didn’t dare look over at him.

“Me too.” His voice was filled with utter grief.

___________________________________________

Finally, it was the day.

Nighteye had found one of Chisaki’s minions and tracked down the spot where they had been keeping Eri. Now everyone had gathered around in a large group, waiting anxiously in the bright early morning for their commands. You were following Aizawa tiredly, energy absolutely sapped out of you. Aizawa walked up to Midorya, who was surrounded by the only other UA students. 

“I am moving with the Night Eye agency.” You peeked out from behind the dark man, waving happily at your students, string to hide how tired you were. “Do you understand what that means?” 

Midoriya nodded, a hard look on his face. Aaizawa turned back to you, grabbing your shoulder to push you away. “What was that about?” You asked, confused as you turned and waved goodbye.

“He still hasn't earned my trust for running off last time, so I told him I expect him to do things right this time.” He looked down, still walking to get in position.

“You’re such a hardass.” You smiled, shoulders bouncing while you looked away.

“Good, then they stay on their feet and do their best.”

___________________________________________

Chaos quickly erupted outside, and you were stuck batting away villains with clubs of pure light. You swung around your makeshift weapons, filled with electricity and a feeling of burning pain. Police surrounded you, blocking your view of not only the entrance but of your allies. 

“This way!” A strong hand grabbed your arm, and you turned and growled. Your guard dropped when you saw Aizawa dragging you inside with him. Quickly, you put as much light as you could in your pockets, quickly closing them so they wouldn’t escape.

“I’m getting kind of worried, man.” Takagi admitted, looking around for any dangers.

“I wonder if anyone leaked information.” Amajiki admitted aloud, but the chief rebuttled him.

“If they had, one would think they’d be smarter to avoid us.”

“They all should be used to working together already, a bond formed through devotion to their boss. They might feel ashamed now, Chisaki and the top brass haven't even shown themselves yet. They’re probably underground getting ready to flee or hide right now.” Aizawa pipped in. All of you were still running down the impossibly long hallway, hearts racing as one.

“No, there’s no way. That villain busted out the doorway as soon as the chief rang the doorbell, no one just does that. Plus, with how big these guys sound, there's no way they’d just leave.” You shook your head, mind swarming with what was to happen. Kirishima looked over to you, conflicted on whether to agree with his homeroom teacher or his history teacher.

“Either way, we’ll take them down.” He decided to say, not favoring either theory.

Suddenly, Nighteye skidded to a halt, stopping in front of an indent in a wall. He seamlessly opened a secret door, and everyone was thankful for his foresight. 

Three henchmen popped out of the darkness, trying to take the group by surprise. However, they were unable to be successful with Bubble Girls and Centipeder's quick thinking. They stayed back with Nighteye’s order to make sure they didn’t come after your group, and you rushed down a concrete hallway, only to be halted by a dead end.

Takagi called out to Nighteye in anger, but Midorya and Kirishima quickly resolved the problem by kicking through the thick wall that had been placed up. The room suddenly became less solid and started shaking around in an ocean. Panic filled the room as it rolled and changed around you, shoving you all around. You, Aizawa, and Toyomitsu formed a triangle. 

“Eraser, can’t you get rid of it?” Takagi yelled out, but Aizawa just shook his head. 

“Not if I can’t see the main body.” He called out, voice strained as he fought off nausea. 

“We need to hurry!” Your voice wobbled as you tried to find steady ground, “If they’re changing the building, then they can escape before we can even get to the end of the hallway!” You tried to step forward, but the mere action of moving knocked you off kilter, so you stood, fighting off gravity as you tried to move. You have to try!

The room stopped moving as violently, and Lemillion took action to run ahead, moving through another hall. You wished you could follow him, try and at least be there for the kid. A scream ripped out of your throat as the ground under you disappeared. You landed on your stomach, the breath knocked out of you on the dirty floor. Aizawa heaved you up, looking around and assessing the situation. 

Three villains made themselves known, launching themselves at Amajiki. Eraser quickly stepped up, erasing the blonde quirk before he could do serious damage to the kid. 

“Suneater-!” You called out, trying to stop his stupidly brave act.

“Go! I’ve got it.” He turned to you all, nodding towards another hallway, the others ran ahead, but Midoirya, Aizawa, and you staggered for a moment.

“Make sure you tie them up, my quirk will wear off soon.” He jogged off, the green-haired boy behind his teacher.

You nodded at him. “I believe in you, do your best.” You nodded at him before following your companion. Quickly you lost Toyomitsu and Kirishma, as they were sucked into and trapped in another room. 

“We have to keep going, there's no time.” Aizawa pulled you forward, trying to get you to keep moving.

“I know, it just feels like we’re purposely being split apart.” You followed him, worry filling your entire being. 

Takagi locked the room in place as soon as it started to move again, even if it was a tight fit, it allowed you all to push forward.

“Stand back, he’s coming from the places I haven't locked down.” Takagi held out a hand to stop you all from moving forward, and you watched as the end of the hallway rushed towards you all.

Midorya rushed again, kicking away an entrance point. The path never cleared, so the young boy continued his assault. The wall immediately retracted, clearing away the path for you. 

“What the hell..?” You wondered but were quickly cut off by the room changing once more, separating the main group into smaller groups. You were stuck with Aizawa and Midorya.

The wall dropped again, revealing two Takagi’s, and you stood in confusion between the two of them. Aizawa was fast and quickly attacked the fake Takagi before it could attack Midoriya. Himiko Toga was forcefully revealed, squealing while she chased after the boy. As effortlessly as he could, he dragged the crazed girl away, but not without getting stabbed in the shoulder.

Once more the room shifted, and tunnels of dirt and concrete erupted from the walls, you all looked around widely, trying to see where the dirt was coming from. Midoriya took action almost immediately, shooting up to kick where he thought Mimic was. The boy revealed the villain, and in an instant he erased his quirk, watching him fall to his death. 

“The League betrayed them?” Aizawa questioned looking out to where the two voices had come from.

“Seems so, and they used us to aid in their scheming. Though, at least we're on solid ground now.” Nighteye adjusted his glasses, looking forward to the dark hallway, police officers scattered around.

You took a moment to recap and interrogate Irinaka, but that led him into an angry frenzy. 

“As officers of the law, we cannot let them escape.” The chief held up his gun, his underlings looking around as well.

“It sounded like they were escaping, we should focus on our top priority for now instead of going into a circle.” You said, looking around. Takagi agreed with you, deciding to split up the pros with the mission and the police with the League. He decided to stay, you pulled out a small knife, handing it to him.

“Just in case.” He nodded, face still screwed up in pain. 

His speech renewed the hope in your heart, you and Aizawa shared a glace and immediately ran ahead to save Eri, trying to catch up before it was too late.

Following in Midorya's shadow, he bounced ahead of the villain lying on the ground, smashing the wall in front of the group. There a sight for only the strong-hearted was seen, Chisaki and Togata were already engaged in battle, with the electric blonde already having a considerable amount of damage. Aizawa immediately yelled out commands, ordering you to round up the fallen villains. Already quickly rounding up the three villains, you were hit in Chisaki order to Chrono. Aizawa called out to Midoriya, but his body screwed back to look at you. You grunted in pain, feeling like your body was put under molasses. Chrono had gotten straight through your side, cutting a clean medium-sized hole in your midsection. And before anyone could stop him, or help him, Aizawa blinked.

The ground erupted in spikes, sending you flying through the air. Thankfully, you landed in a hole in the ground before you could get caught by the spikes. Aizawa and Chrono were already down there, the latter of the two setting atop Aizawa. Both of you were practically paralyzed, with Aizawa immediately incapacitated by his quirk. He spent the time monologuing about Chisaki, explaining the relationship that Eri had with the others in the Yakuza. Shut the hell up you scum. You couldn’t even growl out loud. Straining as you tried to get him, you were behind the two, and he must not have even realized you were down here. You heard Aizawa grunting as he slowly moved away, you watched as Chrono took out Aizawa’s own knife, opening and getting ready to stab the man with it.

You took out a small piece of light from earlier, the electric gold energy lighting up the dark room.

“Huh?” He looked around to see you, and in one fell swoop, you slashed along his Achilles heels. “You bitch.” He groaned out, dropping the knife to clutch at his heels. At the same time, Amajiki appeared, stabbing his arm with one of his food quirks. There you saw the teenage boy surrounded by police officers, guns ready. He just glared at them in defeat.

The officers helped you up, someone pulled down the bandages on Aizawa's face, and he quickly removed the effects of the quirk. You were taken in an ambulance and Aizawa was taken up to the ground floor. 

“Wait! I can still help!” You tried to squirm out of their grasp, but Aizawa shook his head ‘no.’ Tears sprung in your eyes, did you do bad? You did your best. Still, you were forced into an ambulance.

___________________________________________

You were in and out of consciousness the first day, one part of the injury, but mostly out of laziness. Lack of sleep finally caught up to you, forcing you to pay your debts. Still, it wasn’t like you were out of it, you could hear voices, smell the clean hospital air, feel the thin sheets below you, and taste your dry mouth. Different types of voices visited you, your friends, you recognized dimly. But there was one who stayed as long as they could, and whenever they spoke, you turned your head to them, smiling and appreciating the smooth bass. A large and warm hand felt your forehead, then checked your cheek. But their touch lingered on your cheek, gently cupping the part of your face.

“Hmm, s’warm.” You mumbled, not really awake as you squished your face further in the hand.

“So weird.” But they never pulled away.

___________________________________________

The next day, you were fully awake, still in a little bit of pain. Thanks to quirks and advanced medical technology, your wound was mostly closed. It was still tender to the touch, and still able to open, but as long as you were careful, you’d be fine.

Now you were hungrily inhaling the food the nurse had dropped off, Aizawa watching you in muted disgust.

“Wha’?” Your mouth was still full, flakes of rice and meat juice surrounded your mouth.

“You eat like you’re an animal and not a fully grown woman.” He shook his head, eyeing you like you were gonna eat him next.

“I’m hungry dick!” Still, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eating more delicately. Aizawa rolled his eyes but stopped to watch his hands.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” He didn’t look at you. 

You wanted to tease him, but there was something about his demeanor that made you hesitate. “Yeah, what do you need.” You set down your food, gently sitting up to stare at him.

“The little girl, Eri, her quirk is unstable and dangerous.” Aizawa looked up now, reaching behind him to grab a small packet of papers. He handed them to you, continuing to talk. “So is her emotional state, there’s no telling when she’ll get upset and activate her quirk.”

Multitasking, you opened the folder while listening to him Rewind. She can rewind the state of a person, down to nothing. You looked up with worried eyes.

“She’ll need someone who can stop it, and watch over her.” His words hung heavy in the air, and he was tense now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Of course, what will you do with her?” He still hadn’t relaxed, hands clenching.

“I was thinking that she could live with us. We could watch over her.” Your eyes widened, mouth parting slightly.

“I-why me? I’m not exactly mother material.” You laughed nervously, looking at him confused. Why does he have to rope you into everything he does? Would you even be good enough to watch over the girl?

“She doesn’t need a mother, she needs someone to help her. And I..we live together, so it makes the most sense.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Yet he was still tense, but why?

You looked down at your own hands, looking over her patient file. She was a traumatized little girl who needed help.

“What i…-what if I mess something up, what if I’m not good enough?” You voiced your concern, voice wavering already. When did you get so emotional?

“You won’t be doing it alone, I’ll be there.” Aizawa's voice was soft, comforting you. You looked up at him, staring into his soft eyes.

“But why me?”

“Because it’s always you.”

___________________________________________

You, as well as the other students, were released from the hospital not too long after the raid. The drive home was silent, both of you sleepy for different reasons. You were getting used to not sleeping all day, and Aizawa was exhausted from watching over Eri all night. Even if Aizawa never put on the radio, even if you hit every red light, even if the late-night roads were quiet, neither of you spoke about what he said in the hospital. Not even when you were in the hospital. 

Tiredly you both made it back home, stumbling in the dark room. 

“Aizawa wait.” You held out a hand, getting his attention while he poured his cup of coffee. You turned to him, “Where is she gonna sleep? There’s only two rooms.” 

Aizawa gave you a blank face, overpouring his cup, hot coffee spilling out from his hand and to the floor.

“Aizawa.” You repeated, his face still blank.

___________________________________________

“I could sleep in the living room.” Aizawa offered, both of you had your hair up/out of your way as you looked around the shared living space.

“Well that’s not fair to you, I’ll just sleep in the living room. You can keep the big room, which I still haven’t gotten over, by the way, and she gets the smaller room. You’ll be right there for her and I can just hang out.” Your hands on your hips while you stared out into the living room, staring down at the beige couch.

“I shouldn’t let you take the living room.” He shook his head, shooting down the idea immediately.

“Why not?” 

“One, because you’re a slob.” Aizawa looked over to you, “Two you have far too much stuff, and three you’re a woman.”

“Okay one, kiss my ass.” You faced him as well, crossing your arms. “And what does me being a girl have to do with anything?” You gave him a dirty look.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I mean, if anyone needs their own space it should be you.” He waved you off, turning around to head into the kitchen.

“Well, Eri above anyone needs her own room, sooo…” You shook your head at him, giving him a look while he rustled through the cabinets. You thought for a moment, and a terrible idea came up in your head. Aizawa looked over at you, jelly pouch hanging out of your mouth.

“What terrible idea do you have.” He looked at you warily, still hanging into the snack through his teeth.

You shook your head, making a disgusted face.

“What?” He prodded.

“You’re not gonna like it, I don’t even like it, but we could share your room. We could buy another bed and separate the room into two.” You slowly lifted your hands in a questioning manner, your voice high.

Aizawa stared at you, one of his eyes raising in an annoyed look. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Well, what other idea do you have?”

He looked around, thinking for a moment before he groaned very loudly. “You just want to have the bathroom in the room, don’t you?”

“I’m merely making the conscious decision for the both of us considering your situation.” You held your hands up in a non-accusing way, trying to fake some sort of innocence. 

“Fine.” He grunted, turning around to wash the dishes in the sink. You tried to ignore the implications of what sharing a room meant, far more intimate than sharing a home. Walking past, you willfully ignored his blushing ears.

___________________________________________

Aizawa’s time was spent between watching over Eri and working as a teacher. So you didn't see him often for a while, whereas you were suck with redecorating and adjusting your home. You started off slow, just buying kid shit for her, like books, stuffed animals, and cubbies. But when it came time to put together said cubbies and bookshelves you let them build up, and you very pointedly ignored moving the beds. Aizawa was too busy for you to ask, and you sure as hell couldn't, or was it wouldn't, who knows, do it all by yourself. So you called the one man who you knew would help you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No lift with your legs.” 

“I am lifting with my legs! Hurry up jackass, I’m gonna drop the bed on my foot!” You groaned with the effort, damning yourself for wanting such a heavy frame.

Snipe sighed, rolling his eyes at you while he backed up. He had one hand holding the bottom of the sideways bed, the other supporting the top. Ever so gently he led you out of your old room and into Aizawa’s room.

“Okay ready? I’m gonna set it down, and you have to do it with me.” He looked back at you, his sharp eyes piercing. 

“Yup.” Your voice was strained, trying not to drop the bed. Following his lead, you turned the bed slowly and dropped it. You sighed, leaning over on your knees while you caught your breath. “Fuck.” Looking up, the bed was in the middle of the room, and you needed to shove it to the other side of the room, opposite to Aizawa’s

“I got it.” Snipe waved you away, immediately going to drag the bed in place.

“Thanks.”

You knew Snipe would answer your call, often times you hung out outside of work, and on the rare times he hosted an outing, you went with him. He stood back up, the muscle shirt he was wearing doing wonders for his body, showing off his toned arms and flashing you his exposed sides. And for a man whose quirk was a gun, he sure as hell did have a slutty waist.

“Alright break time.” You walked out of the room, Snipe following you with laughter.

“We’ve barely started.” 

“And now it’s break time.” You filled up two cups of water, handing one to him. Your hands brushed briefly, his course fingertips quickly ghosting over yours. There was a beat of silence, he made direct eye contact while he took a sip from his cup.

It’s not like you haven't thought about it, even before Snipe showed his face you knew he’d be hot under there. It was sometime after the final exams in the first term, he had been retelling the embarrassing story of his run-in with Hagakure. You had laughed at him loudly in the warm night air, tears springing to your eyes. You could feel his eyes on you, even if you couldn’t see them.

“Why do you wear your mask all the time?” You asked out loud after calming down. He stared ahead, and instead of responding he just tugged it off.

He looked at you with brilliant grey eyes, little targets in them. He had dark and thick eyebrows, long pretty eyelashes, and his full lips pulled in a smirk. Across his face was a gnarly scar, it looked like he had been slashed at an angle across, leaving behind a slightly raised thick wound.

“You’re face is a little lighter than your body.” You said stupidly, brain short-circuiting.

He just laughed and looked back out into the courtyard. 

“I know.”

You cleared your throat, willing away all of the not-very-safe-for-work thoughts that filled your head.

“I have to wonder, why are you and Aizawa sharing a room?” Snipe sat on the table, leaning back to watch you. His thick thighs were highlighted when he sat down, shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, and you swore he widened them when he caught you looking. Damn these slutty men.

“It’s nothing like that,” You waved him away. “Have you heard about the little girl that's going to be living here?” He nodded.

“Her name is Eri, and her quirk is unstable, so Aizawa has guardianship over her so she doesn’t accidentally kill someone. Which means that she’s gonna live with him, which means she’s gonna live with us.” You sighed.

“But why does that equate to you and Aizawa sharing a room?” He waved an arm, looking at you curiously.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re jealous, Snipe.” You smirked, but it dropped. “Eri immediately gets a room, that’s a given, but I wanted Aizawa close by, but he thought it’d be inappropriate for me to sleep out here. So now we’re bunking together.” 

Snipe hummed, closing his eyes and looking away. But out of the corner of his eyes he peeked at you. “You could always spend the night at my place if you need, Sejikiro doesn’t mind guests over, since he’s usually out.” 

Before you could respond, a presence made themselves known.

“That’s completely inappropriate.” Aizawa snapped, holding a bag of groceries. 

“Hey, Aizawa.” Snipe turned in his direction, waving hello.

“Why are you here?” He greeted back.

“He helped me move my bed, and he’s helping me put together the bookcases and Eri’s bed.” You peeked over, looking at him. Aizawa was just angrily looking at Snipe, who was staring back.

“You couldn’t have asked me?” He was pissed at you now?

“You’ve been busy.” You shrugged, stepping out to try and cool the angry man.

“I would’ve helped, you just needed to ask.” Aizawa growled out. “Now I’m here, so you,” He looked over to Snipe, who was just lazily watching the whole conversation, “Can get out now.” Aizawa sidestepped the door, motioning for him to leave.

“I’m already here now, plus if we all three work together, I’m sure it’ll go by quickly.” He tried to soothe the stern teacher.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, get out.” Neither Aizawa nor Snipe moved, silently challenging one another.

Snipe got up without a word, and on his way out he turned to you. “Call me whenever you need help, you have my number.” He waved goodbye, Aizawa slamming the door in his face.

“What the hell was that?” You asked in disbelief, watching the man you lived with as he strutted across the room. He threw the bags on the groaned, angrily opening the edge door to shove the food in there. “Hello?” You got closer, standing right behind him.

“I didn’t know you were calling other men to come by our house alone. You can’t do this when Eri comes in.” He was basically throwing in the food now, the poor grapes and carrots chucked to the back.

“Like Snipe isn’t our friend, what was going to happen? He helped me move the bed.” You were leaning over him now, anger now filling you. It’s been a while since you fought, the song and dance you both created had shifted over time.

“He’s your friend, not mine.” Aizawa stood up. “Plus, anything he did I could’ve done easily, there was no reason to call him. I live here too.” Aizawa got in your face, glowering.

“You’ve been busy. I’m not going to bother you-” 

“It wouldn’t be a bother! All I’ve been doing is making sure Eri’s healing process goes as scheduled, nothing I couldn’t have left to help you.” 

Both of you just stood there, breathing angrily in each other's spaces, chest to chest.

“Why do you care so much? Aren’t you happier that I’m taking the work off your hands?” You asked, anger ebbing away.

Aizawa said nothing in response, looking away slightly ashamed. 

“Because I don’t like other people in my house.” Bull.

“What about Nemuri or Hizashi? You have no problem with them coming over? Or Anan and Sejikiro?” You asked, genuinely confused.

His shoulders slumped, eyebrows slightly going up. “It’s different.” 

“How? In what way?” 

Aizawa’s tired eyes looked at you, and you realized what Fukukado was talking about.

“I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him..”

“It just is, if you need my help, you can just call me. I’ll be there.”

___________________________________________

The first thing you noticed was how small she was, and how stringy and thin her hair was.

You were sitting in the hallway of the front door, wearing a Hello Kitty jacket and baggy sweatpants. Eri was clutching onto Aizawa’s hand painfully, but he made no move to pull away.

“Hey, little one.” You made no movement, both you and Aizawa letting her decide what to do. He was just staring at her, gauging her reactions.

She said your name, asking whether or not you were you.

“Yes I am, did Mr. Aizawa tell you I was a hero?” You asked softly, smiling at her. She nodded, one hand on her face.

“And I’m going to be living with you too?”

“Yes ma’am.” You nodded dutifully.

“Why, uhm..” Her voice got quiet, and she mumbled into her hand. Aizawa crouched down, getting on her level. He whispered something in her ear, and she nodded shyly. She turned back to you, big eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you see me in the hospital?” She asked, looking down while her voice wavered. In turn, your eyes filled with tears, guilt ripping you open. You swallowed away your tears and leaned forward. 

“I’ve been busy getting your room all ready for you. Remember when Mr. Aizawa asked what your favorite animals and colors were?” You asked.

She turned back, eyes widening as she nodded.

“Well, want to go see?” She nodded enthusiastically again. You slowly got up, holding a hand out for her to grab. She did gratefully, but she never let go of Aizawa’s forcing you to walk side by side as you walked to her room. 

You opened the door, and she gasped, running in and looking excitedly at everything. You and Aizawa watched in adoration as she squealed, never moving from the doorway. 

You looked over at him and saw he was already staring at you.

“What?” You asked, laughing while a bashful blush spread across your face.

“You’ll do great, I don’t understand why you were so worried.” He shook his head, a small smile on his own face, ears burning hot. 

You exhaled out of your nose, smiling as you turned back to Eri, who was watching you two. She just slowly crawled up to you two, slowly hugging both of your legs. Her grip became tight, and you and Aizawa shot each other’s worried looks. 

“What’s wrong honey?”

“Eri is something wrong?”

She looked up to you two, face red and eyes watery. “You guys are like mommy and daddies.” She sniffed, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” 

You frowned deeply, eyes filling up again with tears. Aizawa started to blink rapidly, inhaling deeply as he looked up.

“Oh Eri, you could never hurt us. I promise to protect you.” You hugged her tiny frame, soothing her shaking. Aizawa joined you, hugging her just as tight.

“We’ll always be here for you, alright?”

That was a promise neither of you would break, no matter what happened.

___________________________________________

they make me mentally unwell,,AND BEFORE YOU ASK YESS I'LL WRITE A PT 3 its just this was already 12k words, and i knew that it would jest get more unreasonable the more I wrote,,,soooo,,,they make me so ill I just,,,

Also I know eri doesn't come home till later, but lick my bawls,,,I'm forcing parenthood on them

[commissionspartybus]

I (politely) demand more batman stuff, this idea sounds great

S2 ending, they grab a briefcase and set it correctly to go back home. Hand in hand, ready to fix their lives once again and finally avoid the apocalypse.

Out of hundreds of briefcases, they grab the one missing a wire.

Using it should have killed them but stabilization came from Viktor, and not ending up stranded in space time is thanks to Five. Instead they hit the right year, right time, completely wrong universe.

They scare the shit out of the family living in the house they landed in, but otherwise are fine. Grabbing a newspaper - which was frankly ridiculously harder than expected - and realizing that they are in the world of a comic series? Less of a shock, more of a yelling match of whose fault this is.

Three factions emerge: those who want to go to the JL for help, those who rather fix this by themselves, and those who Do Not Fucking Care As Long As Something Is Done.

Diego and Luther belong to the first camp, Five and Viktor in the second. Allison and Klaus firmly in the third. So they do what they do best and split up, because this family cannot agree on a Single Goddamn Thing.

Ben, meanwhile, remembered a little girl on a tricycle who made fun of him and said without a box set he was boring. Ben then woke up again in a body in some mad scientists basement who apparently is trying to make people out of clay and science because some woman apparently was made that way. Ben is having a Shit Fucking Time.

Luther and Diego go off together to do their plan, but argue about who to approach. Viktor, who came with them purely because he happened to be in the same room during this, is displeased. Diego throws a fit and goes to Gotham while Luther, who also throws a fit, goes to Metropolis. Viktor also goes to metropolis because there really is an excellent program there for newfound metas run by some guy named Lex Luthor and he might as well get a head start on the whole powers thing.

Lex actually stops by once or twice and is really nice to Viktor, offers him additional resources and even employment. Hopefully not something he'll have to worry about but it's nice to see actual rich people be kind.

Luther drops Viktor off to these meetings though and remembers lex luthor. Luther goes to the library to double check this lex luthor is The Lex Luthor and discovers The Internent. Luther cannot believe what people are saying about his childhood hero online. Who has the gall to disrespect Superman? This cannot stand. This will not stand. Luther will make people realize how great superman is.

Diego on the other hand has a plan. He was thrown in a asylum before and has no interest in doing that again, which he's sure will happen if he just says the truth. No, he has to impress Batman. Only then will he be considered Sane and Truthful. This has nothing to do with wanting Actual Batman to think he's cool, no way. He needs to become a vigilante in Gotham and Become A Bat.

Five and Allison stick together- well, more like Allison sticks to Five because she'll be damned If it takes another fifty years to get back home. No, anytime he's out of her sight he does dumb shit that always has an apocalypse attached to it. Her morals are also starting to slip and she wants both an enabler and support beam in Five. Road trip to all the notable places in America harboring Magical and Scientific Shit to speed up the process.

Klaus originally joined roadtrip duo but upon a stop he noticed the most gorgeous man who was also the ugliest fucking thing he'd seen all weak. Like two malformed cats having an orgy. It was instantaneous, he Needs to either fuck that guy or find out what his deal is. This is his destiny. This Is Who He Is Meant To Find.

The justice league, meanwhile, have not gone blind to the families antics. Their main concern is the two metas going around and swiping objects of high value and power- the woman with her power to make anyone do as she says and the boys spatial jumps are unnerving. With no idea on their reasoning and the potential of the boy being an unwillingly accomplice (they are, after all, very clearly not related and with the woman's power she could just be using the boy to achieve her own ends through his) it is in their highest priority to finish this through.

Except it Is hard to focus due to extenuating circumstances.

Clark Kent thinks he's dealing with a stalker and is completely unprepared on how to actually. Deal With That. Luthor keeps taunting about how humans will reign superior and shit about legacy - will he have to keep a closer eye on Conner? Will his clone/son/brother/science gone wrong even accept it? Who Fucking Knows.

Bruce's kids keep sending him tiktoks about the newest wannabe vigilante getting his shit rocked near constantly, which isn't distracting enough to quiet the thoughts in his head that the mystery boy stealing artifacts has enough features reminiscent of his grandfather (Thomas Wayne's father) to be suspicious. And that Azrael has gone missing, again.

John Constantine is on the run from the amalgamation of gods regrets personified, and he interested in finding out what it wants with him, personally. Having some murderous church kid tag along with him because "through you (John) will lead me to what God has tasked me to find" doesn't make this shit worse at all, nope.

[colorsunlikeanythingseen]

What makes the tragedy of Jason's death so goddamn well written is that it is that there were three loopholes to his death prophecy, but for each of these loopholes to work requires people to be out of character.

The Syble tells Jason that if Jason and Piper went to find the emperor one of them would d__.

The first and most obvious way for Jason not to die is to simply not help Apollo and not go after the emperor. Unfortunately Jason is heroic. Even worse he never shirks his duties. He won't be able to overlook Caligula's crimes and turn away. It's not in his nature.

This book somehow, despite Piper and Jason breaking up, sold me on their relationship. Those two are ride or die for each other even if things are rocky right now. They aren't going to run and leave the other to face the emperor alone. Their friend might die anyway. Also Piper also gave me the impression that she believed they wouldn't actually die just like with Leo's death prophecy and the general lack of permeant death in Heroes of Olympus.

Now the third way Jason could have survived. Turning into a dog. You might be laughing but I am dead serious. Apollo, god of prophecy, brought up this possibility and while he might be grasping at straws this could easily work. Turning into a dog would allow Jason to dodge Caligula's blow, and in the confusion he has a chance to escape. This happening is entirely feasible in the pjo universe. It is extraordinary common for gods in myths to turn people into animals. It is confirmed that the gods are watching. It could happen.

Unfortunately, no god is going to interfere. Hera is on thin ice after the stunts she pulled in Hero's of Olympus, Zeus was throwing lighting bolt at her and not the giants he was so angry at her. I got the impression that it could easily be her thrown to earth not Apollo. Hera can't interfere without risking it all.

The minor gods won't disobey Zeus either even if it means losing a priest.

Zeus on the other hand can interfere he just won't. It would be a politically sound decision to save his son. Jason is the former leader of New Rome and current priest for minor gods. By saving Jason Zeus would regain the support from both demigods and minor gods that he is clearly lacking. The Olympian council would support this, this might help Apollo's quest so Artemis is on board, Hera's support goes without saying, Aphrodite daughter is also on the line here, and I can't think of a god that would oppose this. This isn't beyond Zeus's capabilities. He turned Thalia into a tree in similar circumstances. Blatant favoritism. There is a possibility that he just didn't think about it, but I really doubt it. Not only did Apollo bring up this as a loophole Athena is Zeus's advisor she would tell him it's at least a possibility. Zeus has a lot of flaws being an idiot isn't one of them. If he really wanted to save Jason he could have.

So why wouldn't he? Jason disobeyed Zeus standing up for Apollo when he was punished. Zeus really hates being disobeyed especially when it is a son doing it. He gets very paranoid about it in fact. Jupiter gave Jason to Hera/Juno and their only conversation is Jason questioning his father's decision in the coliseum. They do not have a close relationship. They have the least bonding moments of any godly parent beating even Luke and Hermes. Zeus doesn't care about Jason that much. It's not worth justifying the interference especially when his son is rebellious. His paranoia tends to make Zeus shoot himself in the foot.

Besides it's not like Zeus mourned his son's death or lost anything with his inaction. Hera mourned Jason, not Zeus.

The other thing that made Jason's death iconic is how it's effects are handled but that's another post.

[lovinkiri]

So I was watching Hazbin Hotel (which is streaming on prime video) and I was thinking how hilarious it would be if the LOV had a S/O who has a quirk like Nifty (which by the way, is my favorite character in Hazbin hotel😅) she is kindhearted, but there are times that she says messed up shit to freak out the heroes and the LOV love her for it🤣

A Bit Disarming

Author's Thoughts: Had to watch the show, but I love it! And i love Nifty!

Dabi

Dabi truly isn't caught off guard by a lot, he's pretty good at keeping his reactions hidden.

But you truly are something else. You always manage to surprise him by saying the most and sometimes fucked up things.

Like when you're both simply sitting at a bar and you go "That guy looks like someone I once turned inside out"

He's taken aback and looking at you, ever so confused.

"... You did what?"

"Turned someone inside out, can you order me another drink baby?"

Like what the fuck.

He loves you and all your quirkiness but damn, you're so scary sometimes.

I think he'd be pretty good at reigning you in when you get a bit too energetic.

You know, holding you back with an arm around your waist when you're confronting villains.

"Calm down, little one."

"I am calm! Just wanna bite his face off!"

Spinner

He loves you, he swears he loves you so much.

But goddamn, you're a little scary.

He hates driving with you behind the wheel because he has to trust that you won't listen to that dangerous little voice in your head.

He sits in the passenger seat, looking out the window thoughtfully.

"What if I just swerved off the road and killed us? That'd be kinda romantic, dying together, haha!"

He slowly turns to you, staring wide-eyed.

"... Pull over."

"Huh?"

"Pull over, gimme the wheel."

He'd rather deal with your pout than end up upside down off the road, crushing in a metal wreckage.

He's way worse at reigning you in though because he doesn't try at all. Too much work.

He lets you stab and slice and bite, grimacing at the sight.

"That doesn’t look good.."

"You're next, heroes! Wait your turn!"

Mr. Compress

"You should put me in a marble and make someone swallow me, then undo your quirkiness. Think it'd actually work?"

He'd look at you, mouth agape and shocked by the diabolical suggestion.

"... You have problems. I love you, but you have problems."

"So that's a no?"

"I'll think about it."

He did think about it, but not in the way you think. He didn't consider it but the image did keep him up that night.

Whenever you get too out of control, he does put you in a marble, usually when you're doing something dangerous. He doesn't want you to end up hurt, after all.

It is fun to throw your marble at enemies, releasing you in mid-air and watching as you land on them, tearing them apart.

The gore is gross, but he loves seeing you having so much fun ❤️

Then he watches you turn to the heroes with a smile.

"I'm going to eat your friend now!"

He can't help but laugh at the look of horror on their faces.

God, he loves you.

Himiko Toga

She loves how energetic and transparent you are about your craziness!

She falls in love because you're someone she can truly relate to, your energies are so similar.

You guys encourage each other and choose to become everyone's problem.

"Let's kill him!"

"I'll make him bleed lots for you honey!"

"Awe, sweetie, that's so nice! <3"

The league has their hands full with both of you.

You guys are so cute together though,like two excitable puppies.

Just more.. murderous puppies.

The heroes are terrified of you though.

"I'm gonna let lots of your blood for my sweetie!"

Toga giggles at your words.

"Isn't she the sweetest?"

Tomura Shigaraki

He surprisingly adapts to your remarks and behavior very quickly.

Does he find it strange to see you running around the bar, trying to stab the bugs while he's still drinking morning coffee..

But it's fiiiine.

"Give it a break and eat something, Y/n."

"I'm going to tear their legs off their bodies."

"Yes, of course, you are."

He doesn't have to do much to stop you from getting out of control.

With one glance, you're pouting and standing behind him, waiting for the go to hurt someone.

The heroes are intimidated by you, and that definitely amuses Shigaraki.

"Tomura, I'll just tear their limbs off like the bugs back at our base!"

"Sounds good to me."

He grins at the sight of the heroes sweating.

You make him so happy!

Twice

He finds you are adorable, no matter what you're doing.

"Awe, look at her, diving off the counter! You're going to hurt yourself, princess."

"I love the pain!"

"I love your issues!"

He pushes you to be friends with Toga because of your similar personalities.

He likes seeing your face light up while she matches your energy when he can't.

He doesn't try to reign you in either though, why would he stop you from doing what makes you happy?

He loves seeing your smile as you do the most outrageous things.

"I don't like the way that hero is looking at you! I'll just tear her eyes out!"

"Youre such a cutie when your jealous!"

[selyas]

Chapter 1

Batman needs a Robin

Ina was a street rat. A dirty, malnourished, eleven year old from Crime Alley. She couldn’t fight well and didn’t even steal, because mama would be mad. Samantha Reilly was a victim of abuse and bad luck all her life, but she refused to subject her daughter to the same fate. The day Ina gets caught stealing something from the wrong person will be her last and Samantha much prefers to prevent it altogether. So, while she was never very skilled in street fights, she could at least throw a punch. She was smart and incredibly fast on her feet. That sufficed. They can survive a little longer, if Ina doesn't cause trouble.

Contrary to popular belief, Red Hood was a kind man. He cared for the children of Crime Alley in a way no one else usually did. Ina spent her day running around and playing with other kids unfortunate enough to live in Park Row. Many of those children, much like herself, more often than not went to bed hungry. But never when Red Hood was around. Gotham City as a whole may have Batman, but they have their own hero. The man was in his thirties (even though there was a visible grey streak in his hair) and always brought food for the kids. That evening wasn't different. Little children and teenagers alike ran to him cheering loudly. The anti-hero only laughed and set down the bag for them to rummage through. Ina's mom wasn't home that day at all. Weekends were very busy days at her work, but in all her stress she forgot to leave something to eat for her daughter. The girl couldn't blame her mama for making mistakes like that, seeing her mother's state every time she came back home. Samantha's boss was the definition of what could only be described as a "motherfucker". With that thought, Ina took out a cheeseburger and murmured a shy thank you before biting into it happily. She felt Red Hood's large hand rest on the top of her head, before ruffling her dark brown hair. The girl grimaced out of habit, but didn't swat his hand away.

In the end, the vigilante vanished as quickly as he appeared, but the kids knew he would be back. Hopefully with more food and some stories from his missions. The sky started to darken and Ina decided it was her que to leave. She said goodbyes to her friends and marched quickly, almost soundlessly home.

[-]

Crime Alley, per it's name, was usually full of very shady people, but as Ina hurried through she didn't spot anyone at all. Now that sparked trouble. She thought about running, but immediately decided against it. Suddenly, she heard labored breathing coming from around the corner. It was a sound of a dying man, she knew. Slowly, minding her own safety first, she peaked at the wounded person. Her blood ran cold. Leaning against the wall, in a pool of his own blood was the goddamn Batman. He clutched his chest, probably trying to stop the bleeding. Not very successfully. Ina crouched next to him in panic.

'Sir? Hello? I will call the ambulance.'

He gripped her arm with much force, before she could take out the phone. The cheapest one there was, but it was all she needed.

'No. They can't know who I am. I have to go to the Batcave' the vigilante's voice was strained with pain. He reached to his belt and took out a small device. Car keys - she realised. 'The Batmobile should be on it's way. Just help me get to it.'

He was right, after a few moments Ina saw a big and probably very expensive vehicle roll onto the road right outside of the dark alley. The girl was so high on adrenaline and focused on not letting the Batman die that she coudn't even bring herself to be amazed by it. She "helped" him stand or rather supported his balance as he leaned on the brick wall, colouring it red with his blood. They somehow got to the Batmobile - as the man called it - and he collapsed onto the drivers seat with a sigh of absolute suffering. Ina didn't know what came over her in that moment, but she quickly sat on the only passenger seat available. Batman eyed her in shock and looked like he wanted to argue, but before he could waste his breath any further, she cut in.

'I'm sorry, but there's no way I will let you go home like that all alone. You're barely conscious!'

He didn't respond, instead opting to relax into his seat. He typed in the destination on a bright panel and felt his eyes close involuntarily. He shouldn't have gone to patrol tonight. His previous injury hasn't fully recovered yet and went out against Alfred's stern discouragement, not putting on his com link for good measure. How foolish of him. Now, he was basically dying with a little, scared girl by his side after getting stabbed between ribs. All because of mild pain making him hesitate and allowing his opponent to take advantage. Father is going to kill him. Unless, of course, Pennyworth doesn't beat him to it.

[citrine-elephant]

thinkin about what woulda happened to leon if simmons did manage to capture him....

(lore ramble + whump idea ramble)

so... correct me if i'm wrong, but...

simmons wanted to pin everything on leon and helena, but probably leon specifically. because of benford wanting to expose raccoon, and because of leon both witnessing raccoon, and forced into servitude after his survival.

leon probably could have cleared his name with enough of a fight, i'd imagine. hunnigan would find something. ada would've dropped off intel that she could.

so wiping out tall oaks was the cherry on top -> to silence the "final" witness and potential whistleblower (assuming there's no one else who's as high of a threat to simmons)

... not to mention who leon's got a crush on...

was helena just a means to an end, then...? simmons was a sadistic fuck and would probably torture people for fun, but if she had any more significance to him, then, i missed it-

simmons was willing to kill a friend of 30 years to protect The Family and whatever the hell they had going on trying to control the world. clearly, peak mental stability.

but as sadistic as simmons was. he wouldn't have been satisfied pinning everything on leon (and helena) and having him rot in a cell, right? prison's too good.

who knows what he'd have done with helena. use her to continue torturing leon? probably.

simmons would've blacksited him probably. dead to the world. no one to save him.

shove it in real deep about how simmons won and leon lost. how everyone thinks leon's a (dead) terrorist. how everyone thinks he was the one to kill so many people. and maybe how simmons was a grand hero now... and how leon can't do a goddamn thing to fix that.

you think simmons would hunt down everyone? one by one. just to make leon miserable. what do you think he'd do with em? pin crimes on them? kill them? introduce them to his favourite torture doll?

i don't think simmons would even NEED to have a vendetta against leon. c-virus made him lose his mind, but... dude's a fuckin nutjob and probably pops a stiffy when someone marginally looks unhappy.

more lore rambling below! :3c... dear god,

came to me in mental illness (skin picking bcuz anxiety lol)

these ideas clicked far too late, but i haven't consumed ALL resident evil media. so ... gotta be nice to myself. some stuff gets lost in translation, some stuff has weird delivery, some things aren't obvious on a surface, or just below, level. be nice.... aough!

some of the ways the lore is delivered though. infinite darkness? i knew leon wasn't a bootlicker, but the scene with claire at the end felt off and i was so fuckin lost.... until someone else pointed out that he was protecting claire. (i'd like to know if leon saved chip thingie that for later, or anonymously whistleblowed that?)

i like that it's not so heavy-handed, but whew... i don't feel smart!

so leon was forced into his position, right? but it was because of what he witnessed, not that he was simply a survivor? or, well, what he witnessed and how he survived, i guess.

they could've easily shot him in the head, then and there. but, was he kept alive for sherry? or because he managed to survive all that?

was the threat against sherry a bluff?

with leon's nature being one to quite literally throw himself in front of a bullet for some stranger, that could've just been used against him, right?

would they have done anything to sherry? sure, they needed to conduct tests and whatnot, i know that's canon from re6. what would they have done, anyway?

was threatening sherry simply to fuck with leon's head and keep him in line? threatening leon's life would've done jack shit to coerce him. but an innocent kid...

and an innocent kid. was keeping leon alive to keep her in line, too? and to add, they hadn't seen each other for a long ass time, right? like. re6 leon recognized her (i sure as hell wouldn't) but they were kept apart? to... keep each other from rebellion or some shit? control and all that?

god, the amount of psychological torture he had to endure. brainwashing. to an extent, of course. how much of leon's survivors' guilt came from the government coercing him into working for them? how much he blamed himself. how much of that you think was put in his head for him?

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: simp Bakugou, hero battles, gun usage, bullet wounds, hero injuries, blood, self doubt, you and Bakugou both sustain injuries, an allusion to death of unnamed villain, quick mention of gore, PTSD flashbacks, a mention of drugging/non consensual alcohol use, grooming, mention of previous kidnapping, Yakuza members, mention of vomit once, mention of addiction, allusion to rape although it never happens, Word Count: 7k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

As the days passed on, your classes with Professor Kubo were going by great. She was teaching you a fuck ton, and she tied some of her lessons into vigilantism in order for the connection to make the transition easier. You loved it so far, even if there were a few pieces in the foundation of hero society that you didn’t necessarily agree with. 

After about two weeks of lessons, were you ready to go patrolling with Bakugou, although you had to pick up your costume first. All of it was kinda daunting, honestly, knowing that people would make a big fuss about you being with him, some new hero nobody’s ever seen before. You were worried bigger villains would come out of the woodworks, try to take a shot at the number four hero with you accompanying him, just to throw him off. You were even scared of the fangirls, and how they would react seeing you walk with him, maybe even sharing a kiss or two in the alleyways. 

Your face warms at the thought of that, tucking your chin to your chest as you glance at Bakugou from the other side of the elevator. He’s cussing someone out on the phone, but he looks over to you, catching your eye and lifting an eyebrow in question. But you don’t say anything, try not to stare at the way his stupid lips purse when the person on the other side of the phone says something stupid again. 

When you finally reach the floor that Eddie resides on, does he finally get off of the phone. Bakugou doesn’t say anything, only gestures a hand in front of him for you to get off first, and follows after you in the open studio. 

“Finally, you’re here!” Eddie calls out with a grin, clapping his hands at your arrival. “I just finished your costume last night, it really stumped me.” He tells you, whizzing away from you just as quickly as he approached you. He turns on his heel, beelining to a small walk-in dressing room that you hadn’t noticed before. You send Bakugou a look, but he only shakes his head at you. 

“Go ‘head,” he tells you, voice gruff as Eddie holds the door open with a grin. You eye the eccentric man, slowly walking into the dressing room. 

“If you made me some ugly shit, then I’ll blow your kneecaps out.” You promise him, pulling the handle to the door closed yourself. His face lights up before he disappears though, and you hear him mumble something to Bakugou about character development. Shit head. 

You turn to the only piece of clothing on a hanger clipped to the back of the door, your eyebrows damn near touching your hairline as you take everything in. You had let Eddie know a couple of days ago that you wanted to change his original design some; no long sleeves, nothing heavy for flexibility, and definitely no heels. So what hangs in front of you now makes you a little more than giddy with excitement. 

**

“Goddamn, it doesn’t even take you this long to get ready in the morning! What’re ya doin’ in there?” Bakugou asks after a few minutes, banging his fist lightly on the door. You ignore him in favor of taking all of it in, turning this way and that, face softening at the sight in front of you. This feels…right. 

“You need some help?” Bakugou asks in a lower tone next, and you can only imagine the way his face is pressed to the door, how his ears are probably redder than your tattoo. You swing the door open quickly, snickering at his pained grunt when you hit him with it, muttering, 

“No, pervert.” But you’re smiling as you exit, eyes casted low as you stare down at yourself. “Whaddya think?” You ask him and Eddie, smoothing a hand down your legs as you finally work up the courage to look at them. 

Eddie is smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, clapping all six of his hands excitedly. He’s blabbering on and on about something, but as you turn to Bakugou, whose eyes finally open after rubbing his nose, does he still. 

His eyes roam your figure, and you would think that you’d feel icky, feel slimy and gross and too vulnerable at the way he drinks you in. Like how Mr. Riku would stare at you whenever you’d come home and he would be lingering in the hallways. Like how men would stare at you whenever you’d walk down the street in leggings and dresses. Like how your abuser would stare at you whenever he dressed you up all prettily. 

But…it doesn’t. It doesn’t give you those same feelings of bugs crawling under your skin, of bile rising to the back of your throat. No, instead, with the way Bakugou looks at you, you feel—you feel confident? Is that the word? Like you could strut and model in only a paper bag and still hold your chin high, your smile unwavering? The way he looks at you makes you like what you’re wearing, makes the self blame of needing to wear something bigger, looser, less revealing, dissipate right into thin air. 

And you didn’t even think that this costume would be worth the way he trips over his words and how his eyes haven’t left you yet. 

Your new costume consists of a sage green halter romper, the legs reaching down just below your knee with built in kneepads in the thick material. There are different spaces and pockets, where you guess you’ll fit multiple guns and knives onto, even a tanned belt that holds more weaponry and ammo. There’s barely a slither of skin where the dull brown knee high boots meet the material, heavy and tall, with even more pockets for weapons. You have forearms sleeves that hide a small compartment for small medical tools, and what you’re guessing, even more knives (damn, that’s a lotta weapons). There’s a sleeveless jacket that comes with it, reaching the back of your calves and a hood that hides a majority of your face, and thankfully, your ass too. 

“I tried the mask on, but I figured you guys would wanna see the costume without it first.” You mumble after sometime has passed with both of them admiring you. It seems to snap Bakugou out of his trance, shaking his head as he straightens his back, hands resting on his hips. He nods to you once, before gesturing to the dressing room for you to retrieve it, movements mechanical and awkward. 

“Gotta get the full effect.” Bakugou grunts to you, one of his hands covering his mouth, eyes still captivated by you in your new costume. Your face burns at how fucking shameless he is, turning quickly to get the final piece of your costume. You click it into place before turning around again, Eddie swooning dramatically. 

“Can I get your autograph?” He asks you, voice high pitched as he bounces on the balls of his feet again. You only roll your eyes at him, biting back a laugh before looking at Bakugou again. 

“It’s nice, right?” You ask him, fiddling with the heavy material of the mask. It’s more form fitting than your previous one, and covers your face only from your nose on down with a circular space open for your mouth, curving around your jaw perfectly. It’s a dark brown, almost black in color, the feeling heavy but the fabric soft like velvet, etchings of sharp teeth around the hole where your mouth lies. It feels a little similar to your mask as the Red Medusa, and in a way, you feel as though you’re paying homage to your roots. 

“Really nice.” Bakugou says simply, hand still covering his mouth before he drags it down, reaching around to scratch at the back of his neck. He clears his throat a few times, eyes drinking you in, and you spin for him because he looks like he’s fucking dying for you to do so, but so hesitant in asking. 

“How does it feel?” Bakugou asks you, arms crossed before he fits them in his pockets and then hangs them loosely by his sides before crossing them again. It makes you laugh at how awkward he is, face scrunching up at his reddening cheeks and frown when he sees that you’re catching on to him. 

“Really great, actually,” you answer, standing in front of the wall length mirror beside the dressing room (why so many mirrors, you have no clue). You admire yourself, nodding a few times as you take everything in. “It’s really comfortable, easy to move in, has a lotta pockets. I love it, thank you.”

You direct the last part to Eddie, reaching over to shake his hand. He grins at you, the other five arms reaching out to shake your hand too, and you can only laugh and shake your head at his excitement. When you finally pull away, you step back, staring at yourself once more in the mirror. 

This feels…really right. Makes you feel whole, like you’ve been missing out on what you should’ve been doing this whole time. But you won’t forget the Red Medusa, and you vow to continue on helping those who need it most. 

…

“Ready for your first day patrolling?” Bakugou asks you as you stand outside of his agency’s building. Everything has become so daunting so quick; the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had basked in the attention and praise (not that you’d admit it if anyone asked) when you showed off your new costume to Bakugou’s friends. It all felt so easy, just a sweet little intermission before the real show began. And as it was starting, you could feel your heart palpitating behind your ribs. 

What if you were a complete fuck up? What if the civilians hated you? The material of your costume is thick and durable but—but what if someone tears through it and reveals your tattoo? Your identity? How would the public treat you then? 

“Hey, look at me.” Bakugou barks at you, making your eyes swivel from their unfocused gaze across the street to his face. He looks angry, with the black eyeliner smudged around his eyes and his mask covering his face. But, as you squint, you can see the worry creasing the lines of his forehead, his hesitancy to reach a hand out to you. You let him, feel the heavy weight rest on your shoulder, ground you into the moment. 

“Ain’t no need to be freaking out, okay? I’ve seen what you can do, and you’re gonna fuckin’ kill it. You hear me?” He asks you, squeezing you once as he ducks down to maintain eye contact. You swallow thickly, shaking your head as if to clear away the thoughts before you sigh heavily through your nose, feeling the nerves start to roll off of you, albeit slowly. 

“Yeah, I got you.” You mumble, balling your hands into fists before releasing the tension. Make your body as tense as you can, build up all that anxiety and fear—and release it. Something a shitty therapist had told you before, but you guess the advice wasn’t so bad now. You do that once, all over, eyes clenching shut and your shoulders tensing again before releasing with another sigh. 

“I’m ready.” You say, voice more determined this time. But your confidence shakes when you look at Bakugou, and he’s fixed you with this funny look, a cross between confusion and holding in a laugh. 

“Fuck was that? Were you tryna hold in anxiety shits?” He asks, finally letting go of you as he stands tall, arms crossed over his chest as his smile becomes bigger the more you glare at him. 

“Shut up, and let’s go.” You mumble instead of gracing him with banter he was expecting, but he laughs heartily anyway. It gains some looks from a few passerby’s, unused to the big bad Dynamight letting out such a sound in public, his guard down completely. You only elbow him in the ribs, his laughter abruptly cut off, before you snicker yourself and start your journey down the long streets of Musutafu. 

“This is boring,” you say not too long after starting patrolling, huffing under your breath. Only a few hours had passed after starting, and it wasn’t anything to write home to. He was eerily quiet when switched from Bakugou to Dynamight, and you could tell that he wouldn’t shift back until you two were safe in his office again. There also wasn’t a lot of people out today, which both calmed you and bored you some more. So, paired with the little conversation and what feels like aimless walking, you didn’t really see the point of all this. 

“Promise you, you’d like it better this way.” Bakugou grunts out, his heavy grenade armory grazing your arms and hip. You resist the urge to bump him back in fear of accidentally setting one of those things off. Instead, you huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Why would I like to just walk around in these heavy ass boots for hours if I’m not kicking ass?” You bemoan, head falling back on your shoulders dramatically. Bakugou sucks his teeth at you, head turning as he opens his mouth to say something, when a loud explosion goes off in the near distance. Both of your heads whip up to see what happened, finding someone in the air above the exploding building, cackling, as their eyes shoot out something red. 

“Well, thanks a lot. You just talked up some shit to happen.” Bakugou mutters under his breath, clicking his tongue, before he jumps into action. He doesn’t give you any warning besides that, crouching down before blasting up to the sky, taking off in the direction of the villain. 

“Don’t blame me, asshole!” You call out after him, immediately taking off as quick as you can in their direction. Your heart jumps in your throat, the rush of being back in action taking over. Fuck, you missed this. Missed chasing villains, missed beating their asses to a pulp, lighting them up with holes from your guns and knives alike. 

Back in the agency, Bakugou had taken you to their weaponry room, helped you pick out all the toys you’d wanna use while in battle. You had never seen a collection so pretty, and to know that you’re packing the best of the best only boosted you even more. 

When you get to the scene after what feels like hours, Bakugou is already fighting with the villain. Half of the building has already collapsed, so you take it upon yourself to help those who are trapped under rubble, calling for backup on your earpiece for the pieces of debris that’s too heavy for you. 

You’re pushed to your knees from the wind force when Bakugou is sent flying past you, only a few feet away. He curses loudly, shaking soot from his hair as he tries to stand, faltering at the last second. He doesn’t look at you, though he calls out, 

“Get these people outta here!” Before he takes off again for the villain, sending rubble flying through the air. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” You yell back at him. You turn back to the civilians, trying to stay as calm as you can for the people who are panicking, ushering them outside of the villain’s vicinity. It looks like he can only shoot people with a razor thin glare from his eyes, and can’t expand it any further, and it would take a loss of focus from his battle with Bakugou to try to hurt anyone else. So, you think the people leaving should be good for now. 

When you’ve cleared a majority of them away, do you finally look overhead at how Bakugou’s doing. He looks…slower, than he usually is, and that pisses you the fuck off for some reason. How could he fucking slow down at a time like this? On your first day—how could he—how could he have a fucking hole in the middle of his stomach coming straight out of his fucking back?!

“The fuck are you doing up there?” You screech to him, pulling out the longest muzzle gun you have, strapped to the entirety of your thigh. You load it up, keeping your eye on the battle, hissing through your teeth as if in pain, too, when the villain slices through Bakugou’s calf next. He yelps in pain but keeps pushing himself, throwing himself at the villain, who just barely dodges his blast. 

“Get the fuck outta the way,” you murmur to yourself, holding the gun up, finger on the trigger, your other hand supporting its weight. You squint your eye as you try to get a good look at the dude, his quick buzzing movements, wonder how the fuck he can fly and have laser eyes at the same time. Maybe he’s found himself ahold of those quirk enhancers? But it can’t be—he wouldn’t be able to have two quirks, if that was the case. 

As you mull it over in your head, you and the villain’s eyes lock. It sends a chill through your body, makes your mouth curl into a Grinch-like smile, before you fire off multiple rounds through the air. The barely there whizzing sound slices through the silence of the city, as it strikes the man in his belly and the sides of his neck. You go to celebrate, but find Bakugou, quicker than lightning, diving in front of you. 

“Fuck!” He yells out through gritted teeth, as he falls to the ground in front of you, body curled up. You stumble back, confused, eyes flittering from the villain falling from the sky, to the hero in front of you. 

“The fuck are you—oh my gods,” your voice drops to a whisper as you step over Bakugou’s body, finding three new holes in his body. “When the fuck—how—what?” You mumble to yourself, dropping to your knees as you press your hands to his gaping wounds. They’re thin, but the skin around the holes sizzles, hot to the touch, like the laser burned right through his flesh—literally. You look to Bakugou’s face, scrunched up in pain, in question. 

“Fucker took a quirk multiplier.” He grunts out, pushing himself up with one hand, the left one he lays on injured with a hole in his bicep. “He sent out, fuck, multiple lasers all at once when you fired off at ‘em. Could barely even see them in the air.”

What? You hadn’t seen shit. Was it because your gun was in your peripheral? Had you gotten that cocky from shooting one guy that you had completely let your guard down and—and now this? Now, the first person, the first man, who has given you so much grace than you would’ve ever thought you deserved, jumps in front of you? Are you really that helpless? Do you need a hero to save you every fucking time? 

“You’re not my Prince Charming for saving me, dumbass.” You grit through your teeth, but Bakugou can hear the plain fear and worry in your voice. So he only smiles at you, laughs through a wet cough, as he glances down at your hands pressing on the wounds at his chest and stomach. 

“I never liked Rapunzel much, anyway.” He tells you, fighting to stand up when you hear the rubble moving, the villain standing hundreds of feet away from you. But his eyes are focused solely on the two of you, his mouth curled back in a snarl as he holds the bloody side of his neck. 

“Wrong Disney movie, stupid.” You mumble, heart picking up pace again as the reality of the situation sets in. You called for backup ten minutes ago, and yet no one’s here. So it looks like this’ll be all left to you. You reload your gun again, cocking it, as Bakugou sways beside you, looking worse for wear. 

“Don’t fuckin’ count me out, yet.” He snarls, wiping the blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth as he pulls off his damaged grenade. But he looks like fuckin’ shit, with all the holes in his body and the way his eyes glaze over. 

“Save your energy.” You command him, lifting your gun once more as the villain starts going on this unnecessarily longwinded rant about life and society fucking him over. You couldn’t give two shits to listen, much less care. As the man starts hollering to the tops of his lungs, voice hoarse, you fire off another few rounds to his body. 

He screams like a banshee, head flinging back in pain but he continues trekking on, fiery eyes lit aflame. Bakugou ignores your command, rushing to the villain again, but its too late when he sends another laser at you. 

You don’t move enough in time to keep it from slicing through both of your fucking hands. From the back of your left hand holding the barrel, through the flesh, going through your right hand that holds the trigger, grazing the side of your neck as you did his. An involuntary scream rips through your mouth as you drop the gun, a frustrated howl tearing through you as your hands begin to shake from the pain. 

Fuck, what the hell could you do now? Your hands were what kept you strong, close distance is what kept you strong, hand to hand battle is what kept you strong. What the fuck could you do now that you were rendered useless? 

Would this be your life as a hero now? Rendered fucking incapable because a villain could point out your weakness in only a fifteen minute battle? Was that all it took to be put down like some rabid dog that was only ever bark? How could you have been so strong as the Red Medusa, and become so weak as—as—

“Fuck you!” You hear Bakugou scream out, your head whipping up to the source of his voice. You’ve got to get out of this self pitying bullshit, and fucking help him. 

Your stomach churns at the sight of Bakugou pinned under some rubble, his arms strayed out to the sides, facing down to the concrete. The villain kneels above him, smiling something sinister, as he grabs the sides of Bakugou’s head, eyes peeled back and wide and unnerving. 

He’s gonna fucking kill him. 

What can you do? What the fuck can you do when you can’t feel your hands anymore? When your body is frozen in shock at the sight of someone you considered a friend, something more, could die right in front of you? What can you fucking do?

Can you…can you use it? Does it still work? Does a quirk that has lain dormant for years still know how to run when called upon in dire moments like these? Will…will it all work out in the end? 

With a concentration you haven’t been able to muster since you were nothing but a victim, you focus on the man in front of you. The man that opened his home to you, his arms, his comfort, his friendship, his love. You focus on his heartbeat, find it thumping wildly in your head, find his veins pumping blood through his body, find his sweat running from his pores. 

And you hope—with the desperation of a mortal praying to a god to have mercy on their sinful soul—that it still works. 

The world goes quiet for a moment, before an ear shattering explosion desecrates the concrete from underneath Bakugou’s hands, sends his body alongside the villain’s soaring into the air. The force of the blast sends you flying back, guarding your face from the raining debris, wipe soot away from your eyes before you blink up. 

Bakugou looks like an angel, you think. One that brings merciful death, as he holds the villain up by the collar of his ripped shirt, his ashen hair a halo from the suns rays. The other hand cups over the man’s eyes, before a small explosion lights up his face, an agonizing scream ripping from his throat. Bakugou falls back to the ground gracefully, setting the man down amongst the rubble, before he straightens his back, sharp gaze suddenly focused on you. 

“What did you do to me?” Bakugou asks in a rough whisper as he stomps over to you, crouching in front of you as he looks down at his hands. They seem to be pulsing with life again, his arms seem to be heavier, a feeling surging through his veins that he’s never felt before. 

“Did you kill him?” You ask quietly, eyes focused on the limp body a few feet in front of you. Bakugou blinks at you before looking over his shoulder, turning back to you as he swallows thickly. 

“We’re not supposed to kill villains.” He tells you, sounds robotic, like its something he’s been trained to say over and over again. You think back to Miruko in that alleyway those few years ago, covered in blood, her heel trailing brain mass and bones, and you think. You think she must’ve never learned that in hero courses. 

“I didn’t ask what you’re supposed to do.” You counter, heart in your throat, hoping you can avoid the obvious question of why Bakugou must feel like a gods blood runs through his veins now. 

Thankfully, a flood of people come rushing to the scene, heroes and paramedics alike. The rest of the time goes by in a blur, as Kirishima explained that there was another villain closer to the agency, and they believed that it was all a set up. 

It goes in one ear and out the other though, as you hold your hands out for the healer to close the wounds in your hands. She’s an older lady, who smiles at you so sweetly that it makes your eyes well with tears, for some reason. She moves onto Bakugou next, and it takes a little longer since he was struck more than you. 

“You know,” Bakugou starts suddenly, making your eyes whip from your healed hands to his tired eyes. “I thought you’d have trouble with me just taking over.” He admits, smile soft as you roll your eyes playfully at him. 

“If it was me and the villain alone, then I’d be able to handle myself. But I knew I could do other things while you fought him alone.” You shrug to Bakugou, thanking the healer when she finishes with him and patters off. Bakugou turns to face you as you both sit on the back of the ambulance van, a stupid fucking smile stretching his face, eyes low and lazy. 

“So you trust me? Without even having to prove myself as a hero to you?” He asks, and god, you wanna fucking strangle him. You pull his ear harshly, frowning when he only snickers under his breath. 

“Shut the hell up, nerd.” You grumble to him, pulling him in for a quick kiss when you don’t think anyone’s looking. You pull away when things start to get too heated, face suddenly hot as you sit against the cold metal of the van. Bakugou stares at you for a long while, his head cocked to the side as if in thought. You already know what he’s gonna say, so you nod once to him. 

“I’ll tell you when we get home. About everything.” You promise him in a whisper. He’s satisfied with that, nodding to you, watching the busyness of the scene unfold in front of the two of you. 

…

When you return home, you both shower separately before you find yourself in his room. You haven’t been in here much, besides cleaning him up when he was injured and repeating that occurrence a few more times once he realized that you could care for him. He patters around you while you lay on the floor, putting some stuff away, before he lays down beside you. You’re in the space between his bed and under his TV, and it feels a lot less daunting this way. 

Baby steps, you tell yourself. He kinda asked you out a few days ago, and its something you’ve been mulling over. You guys have been moving a little out of order, but laying beside him in his bed feels a bit too daunting at the moment. So you lay on the floor, close to the bed at least, and tell yourself that things will move further when you’re ready. 

“Did you feel like a deity had taken over your body earlier when that villain had you pinned?” You whisper suddenly, hands folded over your stomach as you look up at this painted ceiling. Bakugou stiffens beside you before he relaxes, turning his head to face you, but you don’t meet his gaze yet. 

“I did.” He answers simply, waiting for an explanation. You toggle the words around in your head for a few moments, trying to push back all the fears and worries that start to eat away at you. You’re not used to talking about this—not with men. The last time you shared this, you had been whisked away, seemingly forever forgotten by the law. You swallow thickly, blinking back the onslaught of tears you wished never came up whenever you opened up about yourself. 

“My quirk is called power augmentation.” You blurt out, let it spill all over yourself as you let out a shaky breath. “It’s the ability to enhance the powers of others, but not to strengthen myself.” You laugh weakly at the irony of it all, blink away rapidly falling tears as they muddy up your hairline. 

Bakugou swipes one from your cheek, and you flinch away in surprise. He pulls back, his breath caught in his throat before you relax, finding his warm hand between your bodies, signaling him to wipe away the rest. He does, silently, as you fight off the sob that makes you want to curl into a ball beside him. He’s quiet for entirely too long, his eyes soft when you finally turn to face him. 

“When we discussed you becoming a hero,” he starts off slowly, brows pulling in in confusion. “You said you didn’t have a useful quirk. Thought you didn’t have one at all.” His voice falls to a whisper, the air between you two heavy and thick as he seems to think back. You remember telling him, Yuu, and the other heroes, that you might not have a useful quirk or anything, but you can protect the people who need saving Had even dubbed yourself as quirkless, as to avoid suspicion. He just hadn’t pieced the complicated pieces of the puzzle together yet, as you can both protect people without a quirk because it never did anything for you personally, and it didn’t change the cause that you were fighting for. 

“It was easier to pass it off as being quirkless, in all honesty. I didn’t want to be taken advantage of again.” You confess, throat seizing up when you realized that you’ve revealed too much. 

Or…maybe its time to start opening up more, especially if you want to further whatever you have going on with Bakugou. How could he understand who you were if he only ever knew what you projected for him to see? How could he ever get further with you if you only ever kept your walls up? You couldn’t be gator and moat and castle and helpless princess all at once. You refused to be any of that, anymore. 

“When I was nineteen, I met this guy. Didn’t have any family or any good friends, really, to tell me to stay away from him and his gang.”

“You were involved with a Yakuza member?” Bakugou asks in surprise, turning on his side to face you, head propped up in his hands. You match his form, nodding solemnly. 

“The leader of them, actually.” You whisper before continuing, eyes focused on the carpet between you two. “He was older than me, like twenty eight, but talked about how mature I was. How I was leagues ahead of other women my age, that he needed someone like me by his side. And I was equal parts terrified and struck in amazement. Me? Who grew up without shit to my name, why did someone so powerful like him need me?” 

Your eyes well with tears as you recall the story you hadn’t told anyone in so long, much less another man. But Bakugou listens so attentively, his eyebrows screwed up, jaw tightening, but he rubs your flank when your breaths become heavy and staccato. 

“I told him, early on in our relationship, what my quirk was.” You confess, eyes clenching shut as you can’t help but beat yourself up over it again, despite how long ago it happened. “I shouldn’t have done that, but nobody taught me to guard myself like that, you know? I knew how to fight, but I didn’t know how to fight off silent and slow attacks like that.” 

Your teeth grit in frustration as you try to keep the sobs at bay, but Bakugou only nods his head, cups your jaw, helps you unclench your teeth. A defeated cry falls from your lips, your head bowed as you collapse back down to your side again, and he only follows suit as he shushes you. 

“You can’t blame yourself—don’t fuckin’ blame yourself for that slimy piece of shit creeping in on you.” Bakugou tells you, his words firm but his voice gentle. You nod, rubbing a hand over your face as you lay there, defeated as you think back on the hell portion of your life that you never would’ve thought you could escape. 

“When I first showed him how much my quirk could augment his, he praised me so much. Made me feel like I had a purpose, like I finally made my mark on the world. But then,” you swallow thickly. “But then he started draining me. I can boost other peoples’ quirks, but it starts sucking the life outta me the more I do it. He didn’t care about me though, he never really did. 

“And when I refused to use my quirk on him after seeing how he’d destroy the fuckin’ city—he kidnapped me.” You laugh humorlessly, as your eyes unfocus on the dip of Bakugou’s collarbone peeking out from his black tank top. “Kept me in his stupid fuckin’ hideaway houses, would keep me high and drugged up so I couldn’t fight back. It didn’t make my quirk weaken any, only seemed to give him an unlimited amount of strength somehow, so he used it to his advantage.”

Bakugou’s face twists in disgust at that, his hands curling into fists under his head and in between your bodies. But you place your palm over his, gently, your eyes telling him do not grow angry for me, although his own answer back how could I ever be peaceful? 

“Did it ever go beyond just using your quirk?” He asks you, voice grated and low, but he tries to keep it soft for you. Tries to keep the quietness of the bedroom still, even though your shuddering breaths creak in the conversation like an old floorboard. 

“He tried to assault me,” you answer, head bowed low, chin tucked to your chest. “A few times, actually. But, no matter what, I never lost my anger, and I screamed bloody fuckin’ murder every time. He told me that he thought my real quirk was an ear-splitting scream.” You laugh humorlessly at that, but Bakugou only continues to frown, eyes searching your face when you finally look at him. 

“How’d you escape?” He asks you. Your eyes fall to his mouth, how the corners pull down so deeply, the stubble under his lip. It helps bring you back to the moment, as you slowly inch your hand into his, until he holds it, gentle, like you’re only porcelain doll and he, a bull. 

“Started making myself throw up the shit they’d give me, so I could stay more aware. It was fuckin’ hard, trying to actively fight an addiction forced upon me, while finding a way to escape,”

“But you did it.” Bakugou cuts you off, his eyes round and soft and so understanding. Your heart pangs in your chest as the tears start to well up again, a shaky smile finding your face as you nod at him. 

“I did it.” You repeat, wiping away a tear with your conjoined hands. “I have no clue how, honestly, my mind blocks out a lot of memories from that time, since he kept me for a little over three years.” Bakugou winces at that, but you continue. “But, I’d gotten my hands on one of his followers phones, tipped off where their hideaway was with the clues around me, and jumped out of an open window when the opportunity arose. 

“He wasn’t supposed to be home that day, but he came there like he knew that that was the day I would start fighting back. Him and his lackeys chased me for what felt like hours, but I just kept running. Dodging and fighting them until,” your voice runs dry at the thought, at the picture in your mind that plays out for you. 

“Until Miruko saved me.” You say in a quiet rush of breath. “I don’t know where her and Endeavor came from, but she just started whooping their asses, killed them, until there weren’t any left. Endeavor was trying to help me calm down but—but I had heard about him and what he did to his family all those years ago. So how could I trust another man that I knew was abusive in that moment, you know?” 

The silence is deafening, when you finally look at Bakugou. He has this unreadable expression covering his face, eyebrows drawn tight and his mouth set in a thin line. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but brings you in tightly for a hug. 

“Don’t pity me.” You tell him through clenched teeth, even though your nails dig into his skin through his thin shirt, your tears wetting his shoulder. 

“I could never pity the strongest person I know.” He whispers, means it, and you an feel the genuineness seeping off of him. It makes the tears fall even harder, your body going limp as it feels like you’ve finally expelled all that you’ve been holding in for what feels like forever. 

When he lets go of you, you don’t want to leave the comfort, the warmth of his arms. So you stay there, head inched back until your eyes meet his own again, your arms loosely wrapped around his middle, his doing the same. 

“I presented myself as quirkless because I didn’t want anyone to take advantage of me again.” You repeat, and this time, he gets it. He nods silently, squeezing you close to him once more when he sees your lip tremble. 

“I’d never do that. Fuckin’ ever.” He promises you, pecking your forehead when he loosens his grip once more. You thank him quietly, eyes falling to his lips once more. 

“I thought that if I didn’t use it again, then it would die away inside of me, you know? It’s easier to say I’m quirkless than to say I’m only ever useful to other people, but never myself.” You try to laugh humorlessly again, but Bakugou tuts at you. He places a finger under your chin and tilts your head back until you’re forced to look him in the eye again. 

“You don’t have to be useful to other people in order to be worthy or good enough. I’m thankful to have you here with me, no matter the condition, because I love you as the person you are.” Bakugou confesses, his eyebrows downturned as his tone goes soft. Your eyes widen at his words though, a shaky little smile etching onto your face as you scoot up a little until your nose brushes his. 

“You love me?” You parrot, watch the confusion on his face creep up before it reddens with embarrassment. “I think we’re moving a little backwards here, Bakugou.” You whisper, eyes falling between his own shy gaze and his twitching mouth, his ears perking up at the use of his name. 

“Yeah, you got me telling you I love you ‘nd shit, and you never even agreed to date me.” He scoffs playfully, eyes rolling into his head before he smiles softly. Your own face burns at that, hands squeezing around his hard middle as you brush the tip of your nose against his own. There’s barely any space between you two now, your shared breath hot and electric. 

“Really? Never gave you an answer to that, huh?” You tease. 

“Nope.”

“Oh, well, I answered you in my head.” You shrug at him, lips brushing his own without ever really giving him a kiss. Bakugou’s eyes are low at that, mouth inching to claim yours, voice low. 

“And that answer was?” He asks you, head tilting ever so slightly. You match him, licking your lips, tasting his own cherry lip balm covered ones in the process. 

“Yeah. The answer is yes.” You nod, barely getting the words out before his lips slide against your own. Bakugou hums against you, his mouth fitting perfectly in yours, his hands bringing you closer to his body. 

As you lay there, tangled in limbs on his bedroom floor, you wish you could go back in time. Wish you could tell nineteen year old you that things do get better; that your choices do become smarter; that life does love you a little more than you thought it did; that you are worthy; that you are good enough; that you deserve kindness; gentleness; softness; love. That you deserve every good thing to come to you from now on, and forever more. 

chapter eleven

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan @blueshome