Everyone in Infinity Wars gonna be complaining about how hard these last few years have been for them until Thor rolls up with no hair, no hammer, and one eye.
Don’t forget “my planet had to be destroyed to keep my sister from killing like the whole universe so now me and all my people are refugees. But hey, Loki’s back, that’s good news!”
Peter(raises his hand in the back): “…My homecoming date‘s dad turned out to be my arch nemesis and a building fell on me!“
Thor (smiles and gives a thumbs-up): “Good for you! (aside, to Tony)…Who is that person? Do we know him or did he just show up?”
Warnings: Strong language, violence – basically the boys are adult heroes
A part of Shouto that feels far too close to his father comes crashing over his conscious mind as he grabs a fistful of Deku’s costume and drags him onto his toes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice is hoarse, and his eyes are stinging, and he decides to blame that on the smoke and not the recently deceased villain on the other side of the room.
Deku, for his part, with a mask half destroyed and wide eyes already streaming with tears – the smoke, again, it’s the smoke – doesn’t try to pull away from him. As quickly as Shouto’s anger had risen, it disappears, and his grip loosens on Deku’s shirt, fingers uncurling from where they’d been clenched painfully tight. He takes a deep breath, and chokes, and thinks that they should probably get out of the burning building before it’s too late. “Sorry.”
Deku shakes his head, and rubble and ash fall out of his hair as he does so. “No, it’s alright.” He hesitates, and Shouto can’t look at him. “You’re shaking.”
Warnings: adult women discussing adult things, and it gets a bit steamy at the end, but no explicit action.
“I’m only here to establish an alibi.” Jirou Kyouka murmurs the words softly enough that Momo makes a point of tilting her head to hear them. If that makes her hair fall over her bare shoulder and catches Jirou’s attention, well, thank the universe for happy accidents. She offers Jirou a polite smile: as if they haven’t met a hundred times before today, as if neither of them is armed to the teeth, as if they haven’t both tried and failed to assassinate the other.
“I’m sure.” Momo lets Jirou loop her arm through hers: the tuxedo suits her, she muses, absently, letting her eyes run lazily over the way the satin presses along the lines of Jirou’s body. Jirou cocks an eyebrow at her as she leads her towards the centre of the casino. The thick carpet is red as fresh blood, and it turns even Momo’s stiletto heels into nothing more than a cat’s footstep. The ceiling drips with chandeliers.
“See something you like?” Jirou’s tone is dry, and faintly amused. Momo lifts one shoulder, pretending not to notice the way the silk of the her dress slips a little further down her upper arm.
“You said you wanted an alibi. I assume I’m not meant to be your cousin.”
This prompts a wider grin from Jirou: one full of mischief that’s mostly a flash of canine and a dimple. “Don’t go saying that, princess, I’m sure you’d make excellent gal pal material.”
Lesetoilesfous 