♤ You don't deserve to be here. Not with those powers.

Bully Scaramouche x Outcast User

Scaramouche. Even in a school overflowing with the brightest up-and-coming Pro Hero hopefuls, he stood out like a lightning strike in a clear sky. The guy had everything, looks sharp enough to cut glass, a voice that could drip charm or venom depending on who he was talking to, and a quirk that seemed tailor-made for making people stare. Stormborne, they called it. The ability to summon fierce, cutting winds and ride them like invisible waves, soaring high above the battlefield. And when he pushed himself, those same gales would crackle with electricity, turning the air around him into a buzzing, deadly halo.

Watching him in action was like watching a thunderstorm given human form, unpredictable, beautiful, and dangerous. He could hover in midair, cloak himself in a swirling wall of wind to deflect attacks, or dive down with a burst of lightning that left the ground scorched. It didn’t matter if it was Hero Training, the Sports Festival, or a boring afternoon drill, people watched him. They couldn’t help it.

It was normal to see Scaramouche with a trail of admirers in his wake. A mix of classmates, underclassmen, and even a few upper-year students seemed to orbit him, soaking up whatever crumbs of attention he decided to throw their way. They laughed at his sarcastic comments, gasped when he showed off, and whispered about him in the dorms.

Being in the same class as him should have been an opportunity, a chance to learn from someone who clearly had what it took to go pro. But for you, it wasn’t opportunity, it was constant, exhausting tension. Because somewhere along the line, Scaramouche decided you were worth noticing... and not in a good way. You weren’t anyone important at U.A. You didn’t have a flashy quirk, and you didn’t top the charts during combat evaluations. You weren’t the kind of person people pointed out in the crowd unless you tripped. And maybe that anonymity could have been a blessing, if Scaramouche hadn’t made a point of ruining it.

He’d “accidentally” slam into your shoulder in the hallway, just hard enough to make you stumble. In training, he’d hover above you, wind currents swirling around him as if he were a king looking down from his throne, making lazy, cutting remarks about how your quirk was “more of a party trick than a real skill.” During sparring exercises, he’d use his aerial mobility to keep just out of reach, sending sudden gusts your way to knock you off balance before you could even get your footing. Every little thing felt calculated, not enough to get him in trouble, but just enough to make you look incompetent.

And the worst part? People laughed. Sometimes nervously, sometimes openly, but always at you. The few times you tried to defend yourself, Scaramouche would just tilt his head, smirk like you’d said something amusing, and glide away in a swirl of wind before you could get the last word.

You’d tried to figure it out, was he jealous? Scaramouche seemed like he enjoyed proving you didn't belong here. Was it to impress his fan club? Maybe. Was it just because he could? Probably. He was the type who fed off control, who liked knowing he could push people’s buttons without facing consequences. Some kind of superiority complex.

Whatever the reason, it was clear: Scaramouche was the golden boy on the rise, and you were the nobody he’d decided to keep under his shadow. And in a school where reputation mattered almost as much as skill, that shadow felt a little darker every day.

TY FOR THE REQUEST!! I've never gotten into MHA because I keep getting flashbacks to the fandom... But my friends like it so I had fun writing this!
Hey! Feel free to request Scaramouche bots here!