#just a fanfic so you can continue on if this isnt your jam

[spill-tears-but-never-coffee]

Mornings are for coffee and second-degree burns

So this is my first story. It’s a Naito x reader. italics denotes Japanese while bold depicts internal dialogue. Please be kind.

Waiting for Sanda was getting ridiculous, the man would show up late to his own funeral. “Probably still sleeping,” Naito mumbles to himself. Heaving a deep sigh, he pushes himself away from the table and stands up to grab a coffee.

The shop was busy this morning with students from the nearby high school taking their time figuring out a more complicated way to order overpriced milkshakes. While glaring daggers into the backs of teenagers he’s startled by a high pitch squeal coming directly behind him. He swings his head around and observers two women; one gripping the other in a bear hug, while the other looked utterly baffled at the sudden turn of events.

The bear hugger is making that atrocious nail on a chalk board noise.  She looks like a typical office worker: non-descript blue blouse, tight but not to revealing skirt, high heels and pearl earrings. The other, a gaijin is pretty, but not that pretty. She’s wearing a similar outfit, but with a white shirt and tight black skirt that shows off her narrow waist and slim ankles that end in a pair of red heels.

As if feeling his gaze, the gaijin makes eye contact and gives a sort of lop-sided smile, he frowns, unamused at the intrusion to his thoughts, and spins around.

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

You walked into the shop with your co-worker Niko and came to a complete halt. The Japanese characters everywhere briefly overwhelm you despite the fact you regularly ordered from this coffee chain at home.

“Y/L/N-san, is everything okay?”

Being formally addressed like this breaks you out of your brief culture shock, “Niko, you don’t need to use san with me.”

The other woman frowns slightly, “Not using san is bad manners” she begins to educate you. You nod your head familiar with this argument. Hell, it had been made in every Welcome to Japan book your family had foisted on you before you reached Tokyo.

Blowing out a breath  and struggling to right this situation without offending your co-worker you start, “Even between friends,” while stepping into line.

“Friends,” Niko’s voice shakes a little, like she is about to cry. No longer sure if this if this is such a brilliant idea, you nod your head anyway doubling down on your gamble. “Oh! Y/N-chan you are so sweet,” she exclaims.

Seriously? What is with the damned titles in this country you think. You aren’t used to the titles that everyone seems to have in the country as back home, life is far easier. Sure, you could say Mr. or Mrs., or occasionally Your Honor, but the Japanese have a title for the grandmother of your closest female friend since birth. Your train of thought is abruptly derailed by Niko literally squeezing you to death. “Oh,” you wheeze all breath leaving your body as your arms are pinned to your side.

“We’re friends,” she shrieks in a near inaudible level it is so high pitched.

“Of course,” you smile and try to disengage your new friend.

“This is the best,” she squeals. To your chagrin the man in front of you turns around and makes eye contact with you. You can tell he is not pleased by this and is eyeing up the situation in disdain. “Sorry,” you offer, but he isn’t paying attention any more.

“So, Niko,” you say extricating yourself from her grasp. “How do I order a Java-chip Frappuccino in Japanese?”

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

His phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. He pulls out the device and eyes the screen. Languidly he taps the green button and holds up the phone to his ear, “Hey.”

“Hey,” the caller begins.

“You’re late,” Naito deadpans. He is trying not to convey annoyance as he had also gone out late last night with the rest of LIJ and yet he was up, but he doesn’t say a thing. 

“I know,” Sanda’s laughter echoes from the other side, “Get a large cappuccino for me. I just got up from a rough night.” he rolls his eyes skyward as the other man brags, “…missing a shoe and I’m pretty sure a pint of blood from that girl we met at the bar.”

Naito makes eye contact with the barista and gives him a slight head nod as he retrieves his caffeine fix. “You can get it yourself,” he growls not amused by his stablemate’s lazy attitude.

Sanda tries to sound remorseful but comes off unconcerned with his friend’s frustration at his late arrival, “Sure, Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Grunting in agreement he attempts to end the call while carrying his coffee and getting out of the shop. All of which is apparently too much to do at once and he collides with a solid force. “Oh shit,” a voice rings out. He hadn’t realized it, but when he turned around to leave he had run right into the gaijin behind him and spilled his hot coffee all over her.

Eyes wide she sucks in a deep breath and peels the now see through fabric away from her skin. He’s stuck dumb for a moment as registers her distress. “I’m sorry,” he mutters while trying to find something to wipe off the burning coffee. He sees a barista rushing over with a towel, grabbing it from the service worker’s hands and he begins to try and sop up the coffee.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpers pulling the ruined fabric away from her skin and fanning it in a futile effort to cool off.

He doesn’t need to understand English all that well to know she is in pain and it’s his fault. He doubles down on his efforts to dry her off. That is until he’s interrupted by the least menacing growl in history, “What are you doing?” Momentarily taking his eyes of the fabric in front of him he makes eye contact with the voice. It’s Bear Hugger.

“Admiring the stitching,” he deadpans while going back to the task at hand, except this time he picks his eyes off the fabric and looks at the woman in front of him. Her big eyes are filled with tears, her face flushed with heat or embarrassment he can’t be sure at this point. Realizing that the towel in his hand has cleaned up as much of the mess at it can, he pulls away, sees the faint outline of the bra, and her body’s reaction to sudden change in temperature.

He forces his attention elsewhere. Bear Hugger is speaking English with Coffee Gaijin who looks embarrassed. He can’t understand other than “okay”. But what he lacks for in vocabulary he makes up for in perception. She is breathing in deeply through her nose, warding off further tears and it strikes him as oddly brave. The words leave his mouth before they register in his brain, “Tell your friend I’ll buy her another blouse.”

Coffee Gaijin looks confused at the turn of events. Bear Hugger steps into the conversation, “What?”

“I’ll buy you another shirt,” he repeats slowly and with better diction. Sometimes women need things to be repeated.

Bear Hugger rudely replies, “She doesn’t speak Japanese.”

“Well then tell her what I said.” He doesn’t make the statement a suggestion.

They have a staring contest before she breaks eye contact and turns to Coffee Gaijin. Naito is now keenly aware that the entire coffee shop is watching them with morbid fascination. Fucking Sanda. They have a brief conversation before Hugger replies, “She says it’s just a shirt, no worries.”

He grits his teeth, “Tell the gaijin I’ll buy her another shirt,” he pauses his anger rising at being rejected, “One that isn’t so cheap you can see everything.”

Hugger’s black eyes widen, and her mouth drops open, “I can’t say that!”

“Well tell her something that will get her to buy a better shirt,” he seethes. Hugger glares at him he teases his lips into what could be construed as a smile. Coffee Gaijin is utterly confused at the tension between the two until Hugger sighs and begins a long and he guess a wholly inaccurate translation of his offer. Realizing that he won’t take no for an answer Coffee Gaijin looks at him and nods her head.

“We finish work at 5.00, we’ll meet here,” Hugger hesitates before adding, “and you’ll buy her whatever she wants.”

He raises an eyebrow, “That’s what she said?” Somehow Coffee Gaijin doesn’t strike him as the extortion type.

“No that’s what I said,” Hugger glares at him again, but this time he smirks and turns to the topic of their negotiation.

Holding out a hand, Coffee Gaijin needs no translation and digs into her purse. She pulls out a phone so new it still has protective plastic on it. Fumbling to unlock the screen she eventually places the phone into his hand gently. Her fingers momentarily brush against him and his world tilts just a little. Brushing it off he types in his number and calls his phone to ensure she has his number, but before he hands it back he briefly browses through her contacts, they’re sparse and mostly in English. He grimaces and hands it back to her. “Five o’clock,” he enunciates in English and turns away from the foreigner and Bear Hugger marching out the door to find Sanda.

[robinskey]

Don’t Touch My Family

Request: Would you be willing to make an imagine of dad!billy were after graduation u nd billy leave town bc u get pregnant w/out telling anybody but after a few years u have a son & daughter Neil finds out n come by the house hella pissed while billy isnt home, tries to hurt u nd the kids but billy comes home n just beats the hell out him for trying to hurt his family? just the thought of billy goin after the only person hes terrified of for HIS family makes him THE father he never had makes me melt ❤

A/N: This is a little bit darker than my typical fluffy sunshine fanfic, but I really liked the request, so I decided to do it anyway. :) Sorry if you wanted something shorter, anon-this turned into more of a drabble/one-shot than an imagine. Thanks for requesting!

Warnings: Teenage pregnancy, descriptions of violence, implied abuse, language

You find out you’re pregnant halfway through the last semester of senior year. 

When you tell Billy, you expect him to freak out. He doesn’t, though-at least, not on the outside. On the inside, he’s absolutely panicking. But he can see how upset you are, so he just pulls you close. He whispers into your hair that he’ll support you in whatever you want to do.

After a few days of contemplation, decide you want to have the baby. You and Billy agree that it’s best to keep your pregnancy a secret-for now, at least. If your parents found out, your father would probably actually fire that shotgun he’s always threatening to use on “that deadbeat boyfriend of yours.”

And Billy...well, he has no idea how his father would react. But he has no intentions of finding out.

Thus, Billy offers to run away with you right there on the spot. However, you ultimately decide that it would be better to finish high school. Maybe you'll even be able to save up a little bit of money before the two of you start a new life together.

So, for the next few months, you wear baggy clothes to hide your growing midsection. Billy picks you up for “dates” that are actually doctor’s appointments. Thanks to your valiant efforts, no one suspects a thing.

Eventually, graduation rolls around. Your family hosts a small get-together after the ceremony. Distant relatives congratulate you on your achievements and ask if you’re excited to start this “new chapter in your life.” You smile and nod.

You have no idea.

Later that night, you stuff everything you can fit into a small tote bag. You leave an apology note to your parents on the kitchen counter and sneak out of your house.

Billy’s waiting for you outside in the Camaro. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead and holds the door open as you climb into the passenger seat. As he drives away, you watch your childhood home shrink into the distance, saying a silent goodbye to the only home you’ve ever known.

***

Five years later, you and Billy share a two-bedroom house on the West Coast. You have two kids-a son and a daughter. Billy works as a mechanic at an auto repair shop, while you write for the local newspaper. Neither of you make much money, but it doesn’t matter. You’re both happy-genuinely happy-for the first time in your lives.

Billy gets home around 5:30 every day, so, when the doorbell rings at 5:15, you figure he just got off early.

“I’m coming, honey!” you yell, bouncing your infant daughter on your hip.

But when you peek into the peephole, you discover not your husband standing on your doorstep but a scruffy older man in tattered clothing. His face is scrunched up, and he squints in the sun. You freeze, clutching your baby to your chest.

Neil Hargrove is standing on your porch.

“I know someone’s home. I heard you,” he barks. “Come on. Open up. I just want to talk.”

He raises a dirty fist and raps on the wood. The noise scares your daughter, who starts to whimper. You’re too busy shushing her to notice your son appear at your side.

“Mama, who’s that?”

You clamp a hand over his mouth and suck in your breath. Maybe, if you’re quiet enough, you can cancel out the noise made by your clueless four-year-old.

“Is that my grandson?”

For a split second, his volume dips below its typical scream-level. It’s the most gentle you’ve ever heard him speak.

But then he has to ruin it by pounding once more on the door.

“Come on, you coward, open the damn door!” He rattles the doorknob so violently that you think it might fall off.

This time, you can’t prevent your daughter from letting out a wail. Beside you, your son sniffles.

You muster every last fiber of courage in your being. “Get the hell out of here, Neil,” you growl, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“Y/N? Is that you?” he asks. There’s a soft thud, almost like he’s just leaned his forehead against the wood.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought it was Billy in there,” Neil says.

“Billy-Billy is here,” you stutter.

“No, he’s not. I don’t see the Camaro anywhere, and I know my son takes that damn car everywhere,” Neil says.

Your son wraps his arms around your calf and clings to it. You hope he isn’t able to absorb the panic pulsing through every part of your body

“I’m warning you, Neil, to walk out of here while you still can. I…” 

You scan the messy living room, littered with toys. Your gaze falls on a plastic pistol laying on the sofa.

“I have a gun. And I’m not afraid to use it,” you threaten.

The wall between you slightly muffles his ominous chuckle, but it still reaches your ears.

“I’m sure you do, sweetie. But there’s no need to get violent on an old man who just wants to see his grandkids. Why don’t you just open the door, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you just go to hell, Neil?” 

The silence drags on long enough for you to almost convince yourself that he’s walked away.

Almost.

And then, just loud enough for it to be audible: “If that’s how you want to play it.”

You jump out of the way as the door falls inward with a thud.

Neil Hargrove slowly lowers the foot he used to kick it down, glaring at you with bloodshot eyes.

You push your son behind you, wrap your arms tighter around your daughter, and take cautious steps backwards.

“Did you really think you could hide from me forever?” he asks. He advances deeper into your home-your sanctuary-with every word.

“What do you want from me?” you demand. Your backside collides with a wall; Neil’s backed you into a corner.

“I just want what you and my son stole from me by skipping town five years ago,” Neil says. “A chance to connect with my family.”

He draws close enough that you can count every crater left by untreated acne on his creased face and smell the stale whiskey on his breath. “I knew you had one child,” he says, peeking around you at the little boy cowering in the corner, “but two? What a pleasant surprise. This little one-let me see her face.”

Neil extends a wrinkled hand to peel back the blanket covering the baby. You’re too stunned to react until his filthy finger is only inches from her face. That’s when you raise a knee and jam it into his groin. He doubles over with a grunt.

“Go!” You practically shove your son into his room and set the baby next to him. Then, a hand wraps around your ponytail, yanking you backwards. Tears stream down your face as you scream at your kids to shut the door and lock it. There’s a slam and a click, then the word “bitch” yelled into your ear. Neil spits into your ear canal as he calls you every name in the book. You claw and kick and punch, but Neil’s got a death grip on your hair. He drags you across the living room floor, promising that he’s “going to make you pay.” He finally tosses you onto the couch. Your back aches as the barrel of the fake gun juts into your spinal cord.

Between your shrieks and Neil’s name-calling, you don’t hear the roar of the engine as the Camaro pulls onto your street, nor the squeal of the brakes as Billy pulls up next to the beat-up pick-up truck he’d recognize anywhere. You don’t hear your husband’s thundering footsteps as he sprints up the sidewalk. No, you don’t notice any of that; you’re too preoccupied flailing around as Neil tries to pin you to the sofa. 

But even though you don’t see him, Billy appears in the doorway, still wearing his navy mechanic jumpsuit. He’s covered in grease stains and flushed skin. And, for the first time in his life, he raises his voice at his father without an inkling of fear of the consequences.

“Get your hands off my wife!”

He charges at his father, who’s caught completely off-guard. The two of them crash onto the coffee table, snapping it in two. They only wrestle for a minute before Billy comes out on top. He raises his fist and brings it down on his father’s face until it’s nothing more than a bloody pulp. Billy continues landing blows long after Neil passes out. And, while Neil Hargrove certainly deserves it, you’d rather not have Billy kill someone in your house with your kids in the literal next room. So, eventually, you walk up to your scratched-up, bruised husband and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Baby,” you say softly. 

He gazes up at you, the pain and torment of eighteen years of abuse bubbling to the surface once again. Once his eyes meet yours, they immediately soften. He raises himself to his feet and pulls you into a tight embrace. He squeezes you so tightly that you wince, sore from Neil throwing you around like a ragdoll. Billy apologizes profusely and holds you out at arm’s length. His eyes flicker over your features.

“Are you all right?”

“No,” you say honestly. Your hands are shaking profusely, your heart rate is still elevated well above normal levels, and you’re pretty sure you’ll have nightmares about this encounter for the rest of your life. 

“Did he hurt you?”

“A little. But it could have been so much worse, if you hadn’t…” 

A single tear trails down your cheek. Billy wipes it away with his thumb.

“You don’t have to go there, Y/N. Don’t go there,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Your eyelids flutter shut. “You’re right. We’re safe now-me, the kids-”

“The kids!” you both exclaim at the same time. You run to their bedroom and knock on the door. It swings open, and two small children stare up at you. They both burst into tears, and you and Billy gather them into your arms.

The police arrive a few minutes later, just as Neil starts to regain consciousness. (Having nosy neighbors pays off when you need someone to call 9-1-1 without being asked.) As the officers escort Neil out of the house in handcuffs, Billy warns him to never come near his family again.

And for the first time in his life, his father actually listens.

Taglist: @novaddictx @anabundance0ffand0ms @rexorangecouny  @sweetboibilly @scarrasco1325  @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)

[feenyreadscomics]

Team Red visits area 51

So, this is my first attempt at writing a true team Red fanfic. Anyways, for context, all three have worked together before, but Peter dosent know who DD is (just that he's a lawyer) and DD only knows that Peter is in high school. Both DD and Peter know who Deadpool is. Deadpool doesn't know who Spiderman is, but knows who DD is. Slight change to what's in Area 51. First, theres what's actually in area 51 (spoilers, not saying here) but the meme of this universe is that's where the cryptids are (vampires, zombies, werewolves, etc.) Also, the group invading Area 51 features some inserts, because at least some people need to show up to raid Area 51. Gwenpool shows up and uses her powers, so it gets a bit meta, since for Gwenpool it is a super powers thing, not a mental illness thing. All glory to @morepopcornplease ,@smokeyloki @supesofherown for willing to be my area 51 squad

Matt was tired.

There were robots everywhere. Robots on the ceiling, on the floor, just...robots. They were difficult to track, and, more importantly, difficult to punch. Matt's knuckles bled. The suit helped, but not enough.

When did Hell's Kitchen get so wild? Matt wondered. Then suddenly, Matt's world blurred and flipped. He was hanging upside down by his ankle.

"Hey, Double D! Hope you don't mind me bringing in some reinforcements!"

Ah. Spiderman. And oh look. (Or not.) Deadpool. Daredevil gagged. The stench of decay was...distinctive.

Matt started tugging at the webbing around his ankle. It wouldn't unstick. Maybe he should start weilding swords. That way, he could cut himself free and escape while he had a chance.

Maybe he could get Elekra to show him how to use knives.

Deadpool jumped past him, dualweilding katanas. "Eyyyyy! Horn head joined the party!" Matt grumbled under his breath.

Deadpool and Spiderman fought side by side, Spiderman webbing down robots, and Deadpool either shooting or stabbing them. Meanwhile, Matt gnawed at his ankle. Eventually the flow of robots stopped. Deadpool cut Daredevil down.

Deadpool and Spiderman looked around, and fist bumped. Matt coughed loudly.

"I had it under control."

"Because that-" Deadpool gestured around them "-was in control."

"Could have taken care of it."

Deadpool walked over and placed his hands on Matt's shoulders. Matt wrinkled his nose. "Red, you were punching bare metal. With your fists. Let me see them." Deadpool went to grab Matt's hands. Matt pulled them away. Deadpool forcibly grabbed Matt's hands and took off his gloves.

"See? Perfectly fine."

"Ah yes, bloody knuckles are perfectly fine. Now, Webhead has a special mission he wants to invite you on. After that, you're gonna go home to your boy and he's gonna kiss your boo boos better."

"He's not my boy."

"He could be."

"He's married, I'm Catholic and I'm not interested."

"Suurree." Deadpool dropped Matt's hands. "If you are looking for someone else, you know where to find me." Deadpool wiggled his eyebrows, which caused his mask to shift a bit. Matt punched Deadpool. Deadpool laughed.

"See ya hornhead." Deadpool walked off.

"Catholic?" Spidey asked.

"Yep."

"Hmm, ironic considering..." Spiderman gestured to Matt, "...everything."

"Yeah. Ya got a question?:

"Oh yeah, wanna go to area 51 with me and Deadpool?"

"Spidey, I have a buisness to run. No."

"Oh come on! You should."

"Why?"

"Do it for the alien tech. Do it for the meme. Do it because we don't know what the government is hiding in there." Spiderman paused for dramatic effect. "We need to know if vampires really exist. You can't keep that stuff from people."

"No, and you're going to get arrested for it." Matt sighed. "Listen, if you're going to go, can I at least give you this?" Matt pulled a buisness card out of his suit, and handed it over to Spidey.

"Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law?" Spiderman raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I have them on speed dial in case I get arrested. Call them if you need legal help."

"Got it."

--

Matt tumbled into Foggy's apartment. Foggy materialized from his bedroom, bleary eyed.

"Here for checkup." Matt smiled.

"Good. I'll bring you some clean clothes. What bandages do you need? Do we need to call the Night Nurse?" Matt and Foggy had this check up system in place so they wouldn't have to bother her with minor wounds and Foggy could sleep soundly, such as twisted ankles and jammed fingers.

"Nope. Knuckles just need bandaging."

"Good. Though it says something about our lives that you are hurt at all, and I'm saying its fine."

"I know, Fogs." Foggy started applying rubbing alchohol to Matt's knuckles. Matt hissed a bit. "I miss the old days. When there were fewer heroes running around." Matt paused.

"Not when we didn't need spandex clad idiots?"

Matt snorted and thought about it for a bit. "Nah. I guess we always needed them."

"What did the idiots do this time?"

"They want to raid area 51."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope."

"They really are complete dumbasses. Utter morons." Foggy paused. "They'll be out of town for it, right?"

"Yeah..."

"You know where they live, right?"

"Just Wade."

"You could prank him."

"Hmmm... would you help?"

"If you can make sure he doesn't murder me." Foggy finished bandaging Matt's hands. "You're good to go. Do you need a change of clothes?"

"Yeah."

Foggy retrieved some sweatpants and a tshirt. He also got a paper bag out.

"Okay, I got a change of clothes, and a paper bag."

"Thanks, Foggy. You're the best."

"Text or call me when you're home safe."

"Will do."

--

Peter was out in the New Mexico desert, and it was nice. Warm. New York was cold. Peter was cold in New York. All the time.

DD thought it was because something with the Spider bite giving him a few cold blooded drawbacks. Wade thought it was because Peter was too skinny.

Which was because the bite fucked up his metabolism, he supposed.

But for now Peter was in the desert, and warm. It was pleasant.

For five seconds, more or less. He heard chatting, and decided to follow it.

He found a group of four people camped out in the desert, discussing strategies for getting into Area 51. They were all some degree of sunburned, sharing water bottles, and arguing about if they could expect anyone else to show up. Peter waved at them.

"Hello!" One of them responded.

"Oh, hey Spidey!" One of them yelled. She waved him over.

"Glad you could join us."

"We have a chance now!" One of them pumped her fist.

"Smokey, are these your reinforcements?"

"Hi, so, you're obviously Spiderman, I'm V, and this is Smokey," V, apparently, gestured to someone wearing a fedora, apparently Smokey, "Supes," V pointed to a woman in a Superman tshirt, "and Popcorn!" V gestured to a woman wearing a tank top that had "The only iron I pump is the IRON WILL OF GOD" on it.

"Popcorn?"

"She ate all the popcorn!" Smokey complained. Peter tilted his head.

"Smokey did most of the planning, including rations." Supes commented.

"Okay... I should be having a friend meet me here soon!"

"Awesome! Is he in the raid?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. We should talk strategy, while we wait for him to get here..."

--

So they figured that Deadpool would charge into Area 51 as a distraction. Once the guards left to fight him, the group of four would try to scale the fence. While the fence scaling was going on, Spidey would crawl through the drainage pipe to grab whatever paranormal stuff he could find. Leading an army, Spiderman would free the rest of them, allowing them to return home safely.

When Deadpool finally showed up, he laughed at their faces.

"Spidey, you're smarter than this. This isnt gonna work. Besides, I'm expecting one other person. She will help you out. A lot."

"Hello!" A loud, high pitched voice yelled from behind them.

Deadpool and Spiderman turned to see the pinkest person they had ever set eyes on.

--

Peter had thought Wade was crazy. Wade had thought Wade was crazy.

This was nothing compared to Gwen Poole. She was pink and energy, and mostly talked nonsense. Something about this all being fanfiction, and a disappointing lack of panels. Also, according to her, one of the four "self inserts" was "the author."

Wade thought he could keep up, but no. Whatever the fuck voices were in his head paled in comparison to whatever Gwen had.

Like, Deadpool occasionally thought he was in a comic, but she seemed to be able to do something about it. Dead silent explosions because "I caught the otomotapeia," inexplicable escapes...

Cuz if there's real weird shit in there, she can handle it.

As is though, she kept calling one of the people "the author" and it was making his own head spin. That's... not normally how this went. But she'd be going with the four civilians in. She'd be able to keep them alive.

And so it begins.

--

The plan started to fall apart immediately.

Deadpool was doing fine, Spiderman was doing fine.

Gwen and V were in a heated arguement.

"What do you mean, you didn't write any scenes inside area 51?"

"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about! Besides, don't you have powers? Can't you do something about it?"

"Not in a fanfic! Not in normal literature! The format matters. I can manipulate comic panels, not THIS SHITSHOW."

"Uh, guys? I think the Feds are here." Popcorn piped up.

"Hands up!" A man yelled. They all slowly put their hands up.

--

Deadpool made it in. He found a cat named Goose in a cage. He picked it up and continued running through the halls.

He ran into Spiderman. Literally. They both shouted.

"Glad to see you're alive! Do you know where Gwen's squad went?"

"Yeah, I saw them getting arrested just before making it in. And look! I found a cat!" Wade proudly held the cat up to Peter. Voices shouted from behind them.

"WADE! WE NEED TO GET THEM!"

Oh. Right.

"So, any ideas?"

"Stop!" A voice called out behind Deadpool.

The duo ran through the halls, left and right, trying to lose the gaurds. Spidetman opened a door they found, a supply closet. Spiderman opened the cage, and sat the cat on Wade's lap. Spiderman threw the cage down the hall.

"What the fuck was that for?" Deadpool furiously whispered.

"Distraction," Spiderman whispered back.

The guards immediately opened the supply closet. The cat hissed. Then, he opened his mouth. Wide.

Tentacles shot out from the cat's mouth, wrapping around the guard. He let out a shriek, cut short by Goose swallowing him whole.

Deadpool and Spiderman looked at the cat, eyes wide.

"I like you," Deadpool declared, firmly.

--

The other five were in a metal truck.

"Do you have any way out?" Smokey asked.

"No. We're gonna be tried for treason." Supes commented.

"If only the others could get us out of here." V added.

"Wait. That's it."

"What do you mean, that's it?"

"I can get out of here. You wrote something just now of Spidey and Deadpool back at Area 51. I can go there now, let them know where we are, which is in a metal truck, headed to... damn. Don't know definitively, but it's a shot. Just give me a moment..." Gwen pushed on something, and floated up into the ceiling.

"Well, this just got worse," Smokey commented.

--

"Hey guys!"

Wade screamed.

"Woah, Gwen, how'd you get here?" Spidey sounded shocked.

"The writer mentioned you in Area 51, so I could come over to visit, through some medium manipulation. "

"Great job, Pinky. Now, where's everyone else? And do you know what the fuck is going on with this cat?" Wade held out Goose.

"No idea. The writer didn't bother informing the audience of their exact location, and two, the cat is a flergen. Now, let me think." Gwen started pacing around the supply closet, muttering to herself.

"Hmmmm.... wait a minute.... I got it!" Gwen shrieked and snapped her fingers. "Ma- DD, gave you a buisness card for himself. Give it to me, and I'll bring it to them, and they'll be able to call him to lawyer them out." Gwen held out her hand. "Gimme." Reluctantly, Spiderman handed it over. "Thanks, Webhead!" Gwen pushed upwards again. Then, she was gone.

--

Thud!

Gwen fell back into the truck, then grabbed for something.

"Soooooo, what's the plan?" Popcorn asked.

"Sit tight and get Matt Murdock to lawyer us out. He's a crack lawyer, and considering this is fanfic, I imagine he'll be great at it."

"M'Kay." Popcorn said, rolling her eyes.

--

Matt Murdock was a bit busy at the moment. He was busy saran wrapping Wade's pillows. Foggy was trying to cram a rubber duck into a shampoo bottle. Well, Wade's shampoo. Foggy didn't get why the guy had it (Wade was bald) but he figured he'd ask no questions. Just prank.

Matt's phone rang. An unknown number. He picked up.

"Hello! This is Matthew Murdock. Who is this?"

"Hello, this is Gwen Poole, friend of Spiderman, in need of legal counsel. Would you be able to help?"

"Where are you? Is Spiderman or Deadpool with you?"

"No. I'm with four other civilians. We are in New Mexico."

"Shit. I can't exactly make it over there."

"Shit."

Foggy yelped in surprise, then cheered. "Got it in!"

Gwen thought for a bit. "What if we book an airline for you to get here."

Matt thought about it. "That could work."

--

The next morning, Foggy drove Matt to the airport, grumbling the whole way.

"They're idiots, Matt, you shouldn't have to save them." Matt began staring (as best he could) at his hands.

"Its a Catholic guilt thing, isn't it?" Foggy sighed. "Fine, go be a lawyer hero while I singlehandedly keep the firm running. It's a good thing I'm the brains of Nelson and Murdock, while you're the beauty."

"I'm not the brawn of Nelson and Murdock?"

"No, that's Karen." Matt cracked a smile.

Foggy pulled up to the curb. "Keep me posted. Let me know when you're coming back and how it goes."

"I will." Matt got out of the car, and grabbed his suitcase.

He waved as Foggy drove away. Deep breaths, Murdock. You can navigate an airport and plane, he thought. Matt entered the airport.

--

A few hours later, Matt landed in New Mexico, where he couldn't get off the plane fast enough, then took a taxi to where they were being held.

He raised hell. He got everyone (except for Gwen) released that night. New Mexico state troopers had never seen the fury of a Matt Murdock scorned.

Apparently, since everyone was in the middle of the desert, and needed supplies, the threat of death by dehydration was enough to get them all off. Gwen, however, was stuck back in prison, because she was armed, and various other crimes due to being the leader of MODOK. As far as anyone could follow.

Everyone then boarded a plane back to New York.

"Did this just happen?" V asked. "This feels crazy.

"It it really is," Smokey agreed.

Something in the overhead compartment shifted. The stewardess opened it, and Gwen jumped out.

"Thank you!" She said to the stewardess. "Man, that was cramped. Good to be out in the light of day!"

--

Wade Wilson was looking forward to a relaxing night at home, after the craziness of the past few days. He had Goose tucked in his one arm. He opened his apartment. Little rubber ducks were everywhere. Over the counters, on the bookshelves. He opened the fridge. There was a rubber duck.

Goose meowed, then tentacled the duck.

"That's cannibalism, Goose." Wade put down Goose, then went to nap. His cheek hit saran wrap.

"Fuck you, Murdock!" Wade yelled.

Thanks for reading! I tried to have Gwen's powers make sense, but it's...difficult.