#THANKS FOR INDULGING ME SORRY FOR TYPING FOR SO LONG EXPLOSION EXPLOSION EXPLOSION

[tojisun]

"...but you were a stray piece, unable to truly fit in." GHOAP WHEN I CATCH YOU. WHEN I CATCH YOU!!!!!!

I think what I really enjoy about hyde is seeing the strength and selflessness they have in this situation, even at the expense of their own self. Because it is a Herculean task to leave the person you love and the person you grew a connection with, even if the extent of those relationships fell short of what you wanted. But there's also an element of hope in their character, at least for me there is. This same strength could easily pick the pieces of themselves back up. It could easily hold those pieces together again. It could easily allow them to move on. But the human aspect of their character is that they'll likely hold onto them (figuratively) for as long as they can, even when they don't know the way Ghost had begun to warm up to them, the way Soap was filled with sorrow once he found out they had left. It's just the way grief works - you gotta go through the waves before there's any chance at moving on.

It makes me wonder how Ghoap fare after they find out Hyde left. We know they grow a little connection to them, especially Ghost since he doesn't warm up to people well, but did the boys have a deep enough connection to grieve for what could've been? Does Soap even know that Ghost was warming up to Hyde? That he was looking forward to the three of them? Did Soap truly want a poly relationship? Do they realize how selfish they had been for indulging in each other freely but stringing Hyde along with scraps of their affection? all thoughts, all wonder. no need to answer any of those questions btw, just wanted to share my thoughts!!

im so sorry it took so long to reply to this ask because of how much it meant to me. im so so happy to see the love for hwwl and hyde, and how even amidst the dogshit i put them through, you guys indulge me anyway 🥹

and absolutely!! going into writing hwwl, as inconsistent and short bursts they are, i have always known two things: hyde will always leave, and ghoap will always face some type of hurt because of it. i guess another thing to glean from that is that hwwl wouldn't have a happy ending in a romantic way. there's no good suffering (hyde and their selflessness leading to a requited love) nor a chase (ghoap running after them to bring them back into their fold) nor a revenge arc (someone else loving hyde the way they should, and it being thrown to ghoap's faces). it is just a quiet splintering, as everything is with hyde.

i'm so so glad to see you mention the element of hope in their character. hyde deserves that at least. yes, they let themselves be dragged into the mess with ghoap because it had been the only way they can even have ghost in their life, but they also deserve to step back. there were sooo many scenarios i wanted to bring out that would end up with hyde leaving - some of them explosive, and some of them so entrenched in turmoil - but just thinking about how they left in the midst of mending things with ghost (that one-sided animosity that ghost held onto) was such a sweet release. it's like when an over-inflated balloon is held carefully, and the tight hold on the rubbered end loosens up slowly until enough helium leaves so that no explosion happens. and it's as peaceful as it could be; a kind escape, and hyde deserves a quiet parting so no... ghost (ha!) can haunt them in their new voyage.

thank you so much for this and teehee i answered ur questions!! mostly because i do love shaping hwwl like this, through asks, but also the next instalment is being a bastard and i can't finish it ugh </3

but did the boys have a deep enough connection to grieve for what could've been?

i thought about this day and night because i know in my heart of hearts, ghost wouldnt. johnny would, at least for what it was - before it was ghost and soap and hyde. he would miss that slip of thing that only he and hyde had. and i think johnny needs to feel guilty every time ghost comes over to pull him in ghost will always wait for him, of course he will, but i see this distance creating another friction, then another cause for ghost's resentment to hyde

Does Soap even know that Ghost was warming up to Hyde? That he was looking forward to the three of them?

he will never because ghost will deny himself, and therefore johnny, any moment of regretting. hyde left them, why would ghost let their past haunt him? (it always does).

Did Soap truly want a poly relationship?

not at first. he was... selfish. he just wanted them for himself; with no commitment. he rationalized it by saying that in their bleak reality, with such a thunderous life, it was difficult to have anything more than pressed bodies and hot kisses. but when he is alone in his bunk - hyde had already started pulling away by then, and ghost is away on a mission with gaz - johnny thinks and feels and yearns

Do they realize how selfish they had been for indulging in each other freely but stringing Hyde along with scraps of their affection?

ghost knew hyde loved him. he know hyde only agreed because that arrangement was only ever the extent that ghost would give of himself to them. and he used it to tag them along because johnny liked - loves - hyde, and ghost loves johnny so he will give him everything johnny knew. he just... pretended he couldn't see because he trusted hyde to pull away if they don't want this fucked up arrangement anymore. he just didn't expect them to leave

[oatchi]

!! !! (TWO OF THEM!)

TWO of them?!?!?!? YIPPEE!! ill do tfocs just for you my friend. under cut because. whoops soooo many words

Tourniquet (he/him) is a medibot motorcycle who I've put in a few continuities, but he got his start in TFA! He's the answer to a question I had once, "Why doesn't the Steelhaven have a medic on board..? The Magnus is traveling on that thing." He's an overly kind person, and a rule follower to the best he can. He's always a little nervous, seeing as he is basically a fresh graduate who just happened to score very impressively, and landed this position as his first real job. It was supposed to be just one trip, right? But, y'know, the plot of TFA happened, and he ended up getting continuously dragged back to Earth and having a meltdown over what would happen if anyone got hurt on his watch... This and the combined fact that he's only about a head taller than Bumblebee, you may think there's no fight in the little guy. And for the most part, you may be right. However, he is very defensive about rule following, including status quo, so if you have the gall to talk back to any of the Elite Guard, or, god forgive, a Prime, you will be in for a storm of words hitting top speeds and unintelligibility to rival even Blurr. Stored within his fingers, he contains special tubing he uses for Energon control, transfusion, and draining when working on bots. It's where he got his name from! The tubing goes straight through him and connects to big glass vials kept on his back. As for relationships, he's one of the few people (along with Jetfire and Jetstorm) to actually show any real respect to Sentinel, and while Sentinel enjoys that aspect, he also finds him a bit annoying at times. Jazz is one of his only actual friends, often helping him calm down and loosen up. Tourniquet's learned to love the sound of Earth's music just as much as Jazz has. He's also... Probably Ratchet's biggest fanboy. In the case of TFA, maybe even his only fanboy. Ratchet tries to act like he doesn't, but he likes the kid, he just thinks that he should maybe find something better to do with his time than reading old war datatrax about... Well... Himself. Don't ask how or why, but Decepticons flock to him. Whether it be them having a weird friendship because Tourniquet couldn't be mean despite everything, or they see him as a perfect ploy for some plan, he keeps getting tangled up in Decepticons and it makes him want to cry a bit. He's just trying to do his job come on man.

Quipster (he/him) is an amphibious plane Decepticon who... I mean, he's just the most annoying thing of a man you've ever met. He's a for hire hit man, but his "hits" are... Not exactly limited to just killing a guy. He will cover jobs including information gathering, actually hunting your chosen target down, and... Insulting them and making jokes at their expense as he acts out whatever you requested. Yes, he takes great stride in his stand up comedian type behavior, and will make your chosen target's last moments a living hell before they die. Free footage comes with every purchase! He has speakers built into his shoulders, of which he loves to play audience cheers, laugh tracks, boos, and cartoonish sound effects while he works his job. He's also no stranger to recording something someone said and playing it back, if it'll pour salt in some wounds. Generally, he is... The worst kind of person to be around, if you end up on his business side. However, if he has no reason to do anything to you, he won't. He will still insult you and play a laugh track after, but it grows on you, if you wish to consider him a friend. That, or he'll remain annoying to you forever. He's delighted by both outcomes. More material to work with! In case you're wondering, yes, there is a reason I introduce these two to you. For you see, Quipster saw the most pathetic, small Autobot ever, and thought to himself, "This is the most material I've had in stellar cycles!" The more he would unravel about Tourniquet though, more material kept coming to him fresh on a silver platter, but he also began to feel like he actually liked the little guy. So, he treats him, at worst, like Tourniquet's the younger brother protagonist in a movie where Quipster himself was the older brother that bothered the hell out of him and maybe put him in a locker once, and perhaps elicited an awakening in a few kids. As for other relationships, him and Swindle have a very healthy fellow dealer bond. Not enough to ever warrant a discount, mind you! Their wits manage to have them dance around in terms for 15 minutes, always teetering over what seems like it could be threats or flirting, but sounding comically "salesman"-y while doing it. "Your stuff is always the best, Swindle! Always helpful when I need to show someone a blast." "Ahaha, and your information and work is too, Quipster!" "Aww, you're too kind. Really. You better not be trying to get any more footage out of me for free." "Why, I wouldn't dream of it! You wouldn't happen to be trying to get any extra arms out of me, would you?" "No, nooooo, of course not, Swindy! Why would I? I know your prices and always pay in full, you know this!" "That's very true! You're one of my finest customers and traders!" Imagine this, but for hours at a time, playing mental salesman chess with each other.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 9 (a bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Reader joins the Bakusquad for dinner and drinks, and Bakugo is NOT jealous.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language. Also creepy men making creepy comments.

A/N: Sorry for the wait guys! It took me a hot second to catch up at my job after returning from my trip. But here's an extra long chap for ya. Hope y’all enjoy :D

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 8 Tumblr Link: Here

“Shitty Hair, I swear to fuckin’ god…” Bakugo growled as he pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the front of the reception desk. “You told me we were leaving at six-thirty. It’s almost seven. I’m going home.” 

“Noooo, come on, bro, just give me a few more minutes,” Kirishima said without looking up from the computer he was typing on. “Nao needed me to finish up some paperwork before I clock out. Well, actually some of it is your paperwork, so if you want to—” 

“Just hurry the hell up.” The blond exhaled sharply. “Dunceface and Raccoon Eyes are already blowing up my phone and giving me a goddamn headache.” 

“Aw, it’s Denk’s birthday, lighten up, man,” the redhead teased while still clacking away at the keyboard. His tongue was also sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and Bakugo narrowed his eyes. The hardening hero only wore that expression when he was… 

Bakugo grabbed the monitor and twisted it to face him. 

“Hey, wait, no!” Kirishima tried to stop him, but it was too late. 

“You’re playing video games?” the explosive hero fumed, glaring down at the monitor. “Is that fucking pinball?” 

“Well, it was,” his partner grumbled as his re-straightened the computer screen. “I was about to get high score, too…” 

Bakugo stared down at him unblinkingly before he abruptly turned on heel. “That’s it, I’m going home.” 

“No, wai—” Kirishima’s shout was interrupted by the ding of the elevators. “Ahh, actually, we can go now! We’re all here.” 

We? 

Bakugo froze mid step before he glanced over his shoulder, and he saw you hesitantly making your way towards Kirishima at reception. The excitable redhead bounced out from behind the desk to meet you, and even though the blond couldn’t see his partner’s face, he could hear the grin in his voice when he addressed you. 

“Wow, you look great!” the hardening hero said when you came to a blushing stop in front of him. “I told you that you had something better than what I’m wearing. That color looks really nice on you, by the way.” 

“O-Oh, um, thank you,” you stuttered, fiddling nervously with your hair. “I— this was kinda the only semi nice thing I brought with me, so it was either this or go in nothing. Ahhh, uh, that’s not what I— you know what I meant.” 

Your blush reached from the roots of your hair down to your clavicle, but Kirishima just laughed it off and lavished you in more compliments. 

While that was happening, Bakugo couldn’t help but turn and take you in more fully. And he had to admit, you looked… nice. Really nice. Your makeup was light, and your hair was thrown up into a messy bun, but tendrils hung down around your face and framed it nicely. Small gold hoops glinted in your ears, a complement to the gold chain and pendant that hung past your collarbones, and a few rings dotted your fingers. The dress you wore was long and loose, draping down to your ankles and your elbows, and it was in a green hue he unfortunately knew was olive, thanks to his parents’ business. Buttons ran down the entire length of it, and several were left unbuttoned on the bottom so your shins and legs peeked out of the slit as you shifted uneasily on your feet, which were hidden by short, scuffed, brown boots. A thin brown belt around your waist tied the whole outfit together, and the blond very deliberately looked away from the hint of cleavage that was showing just below your golden pendant. 

Just in time, too, because now Kirishima was turning around with a shit-eating grin, which Bakugo answered with a scowl. 

“This is why you made me wait?” he demanded as you and the redhead approached him. 

“Oh, come on, fifteen minutes didn’t kill you,” his partner snorted. “Besides, Stitches said she was hungry, and we were about to go out and eat anyway, so what’s the problem?” 

He knew exactly what the problem was. The bastard. 

Bakugo just continued to glare at the hardening hero until you cleared your throat, which made his red eyes snap to you. 

“I’m, um, really sorry I made you guys wait,” you muttered without making eye contact, tugging on your belt and wrapping the end around your finger. “I told Kirishima that I was fine making myself dinner, I really don’t want to impose.” 

“And I told you that you can’t impose because I invited you.” Kirishima grinned and patted you on the head, which only came up to the middle of his chest. “Also, I already told the gang you’re coming, and they’re super excited to meet you.” 

“If— if you’re sure,” you murmured, and your eyes met Bakugo’s for half an instant before they darted away. 

“I am plus ultra sure!” the redhead said in an overly dramatic, All Might voice, which made you crack a faint smile. 

“Are we gonna stand here all night listening to you two run your mouths, or are we going?” Bakugo turned for the door again, shoving his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket. 

“Don’t mind him, he gets hangry really easily,” Kirishima whisper-hissed, and the blond thought he heard you giggle under your breath. 

The sound made him remember what you looked like bathed in red light in his car, in moonlight while standing in the sea, and Bakugo knew this was going to be a really fucking long night. 

Thankfully, the bar the three of you were going to was within walking distance from the agency, so Bakugo didn’t have to be stuck in a car with you again. He just knew Shitty Hair would make him sit in the backseat with you… 

Instead, the blond stayed several yards behind you and the redhead, shuffling his feet along the sidewalk and glaring petulantly at his partner’s back. Kirishima was animatedly telling you some stupid story, using grand hand gestures and almost smacking you in the face a few times. You listened with a polite smile, but Bakugo could see how tense the line of your shoulders was, how stiffly you walked in your slightly heeled boots. You were nervous as fucking hell. He kept waiting for you to trip over your own damn feet, and the moment finally came when Kirishima bounded up the steps leading up to the bar and opened the door. 

You took the first two steps fine, but on the third you inevitably stumbled, stepping on the front of your dress before you tried to lean back, overcompensated, and began to tip over. 

Bakugo easily caught the back of your elbow as he stepped up behind you, your spine brushing his chest as you regained your balance. 

“You just really want to crack your damn head open, don’t ya, Stitches?” he grumbled. 

“Not on purpose,” you muttered as you grabbed the guardrail with your left hand, and when you glanced back at him, he realized you were almost at eyelevel since you were standing a few steps above him. He hadn’t realized it before, but you had some freckles dotted across the bridge of your nose and onto your cheeks… 

“Yeah, well, don’t need you meeting everyone covered in blood. It’ll make us look bad.” He released you and shoved his hands back into his jacket so they would stop betraying him. “So be careful. You only need to make it ten more damn feet.” 

“Right, um, thank you. For catching me. I’ll be more careful.” You blushed and started to slowly make your way up the stairs again, and Bakugo glanced toward the door to see Kirishima still holding it open with a Cheshire cat grin stretched across his face. 

The blond contemplated just turning around and marching home, but he knew his partner would just chase him down, so he might as well bite the bullet, make an appearance, and slip out in an hour when everyone was drunk. 

Maybe he could even find someone to spend the night with like he considered on the beach… 

“Bakubro, you comin’?” He looked up to see Kirishima still holding the door, but you had paused on the threshold, looking back at him with what he swore was a pleading expression… 

Fuck. 

“I’m comin’, shut up,” he said as he stalked his way up the stairs. 

Kirishima smirked and ushered you inside with a grand bow, and then he leaned toward Bakugo and lowered his voice. 

“Come on, bro, try to loosen up,” he muttered. “She’s nervous as it is, and you looking like someone pissed in your rice bowl isn’t helping things.” 

“Why the fuck would I care if she’s nervous?” Bakugo hissed, glaring at his partner. “You’re the one who invited her, you make sure she’s comfortable.” 

“Well, I’m trying my best, but something tells me she’ll relax more if it’s coming from you,” the redhead said with a nudge and a wink, and before Bakugo could retaliate, he was slipping into the bar and walking up to where you were standing a few feet away. 

Bakugo gritted his teeth, prayed for patience, and marched inside, wishing this night was already over. 

The blond could never remember the name of this place, but it had somehow turned into their place, as Dunceface called it, whenever the whole group of idiots were all in town and had some downtime. The bar served pretty decent food, and the whiskey and sake typically made the semi-loud atmosphere tolerable. Since tonight was a Saturday, the tables were more full than usual, and Bakugo wore his meanest scowl as he followed you and Kirishima through the crowd lining up at the bar for drinks. Thankfully, the tall redhead parted the people like a professional, and Bakugo was able to easily follow in his wake. 

Being a pro hero came with more than a few benefits, one of which was being able to reserve the same corner table in the back whenever they came in. That was where Kirishima led you with purpose, a hand hovering several inches above the small of your back, and Bakugo heard their friends long before he saw Kaminari’s bright yellow hair. 

“Guyyyys, I’m starving! When are we going to eat?” 

Bakugo came around the corner and up to the partial wooden screen that surrounded their party. Kaminari was sitting in the booth and dramatically slumped over the tabletop with a flush to his face that said he was already a few shots deep. Sero sat beside the blond and halfheartedly patted Denki’s back, and with his other hand he sipped from a mostly full glass of beer. Meanwhile, Mina was sitting at one end of the table, and she was leaning back on her chair’s rear legs with her own propped up on another seat, typing away at her phone. 

“Hey, guys!” Kirishima said from where he stood a few feet ahead of Bakugo. “Sorry we’re late. Happy birthday, Denks!” 

The redhead stepped past the partial screen to slap the electric hero on the back, but you hesitated on the threshold, rocking back onto your heels as you glanced at Bakugo with panic in your eyes. 

“It’s someone’s birthday?” you hissed. 

“Yeah, Dunceface’s,” Bakugo grunted and jerked his chin toward Kaminari. 

“Fucking Chargebolt?” you cursed under your breath in English before you switched back to Japanese. “I forgot Kirishima briefly mentioned that. I didn’t bring a gift.” 

“Why the fuck would you bring a gift?” Bakugo stared at you like you were crazy. “You don’t even know these idiots.” 

“I know, but it’s like, the polite thing to do,” you muttered as you wrung your hands, and the blond could tell you were apparently really upset about this. 

“Untwist your panties, Stitches,” he scoffed, just so you would stop looking like you were going to throw up on his shoes. “Dunceface always gets plastered on his birthday, so we’ve stopped giving him gifts at bars anyway. You don’t see Shitty Hair or I carrying crap, do you?” 

“No,” you said after your eyes darted to his hands, and some of the tension leeched out of your stiff shoulders. 

“So calm the fuck down,” he huffed, but his tone was much softer than he meant it to be. 

He needed a drink. 

You nodded, and Bakugo noticed that you inched a little closer to him right before Kirishima shouted your name. Then both you and Bakugo turned to find the hardening hero grinning, and the rest of the table behind him stood up and tried to peek around the redhead and partial wooden screen. 

“Bakuuuuuubro,” Kaminari cried out, and he made a drunken beckoning motion as he leaned forward and nearly toppled completely onto the tabletop. “Stop hiding in the shadows and introduce us to your new friend!” 

The explosive hero scowled and immediately felt defensive. 

“Shut up, Dunceface, Shitty Hair’s the one who invited her,” he said as he bumped you with his shoulder and herded you in front of him. He knew he was throwing you to the proverbial wolves, but it wasn’t like he cared, and he definitely couldn’t let these idiots think he cared, because then they would really turn into wolves. 

“Holy shit,” Kaminari blurted out and gaped at you when you came to a hesitant stop in front of the table. 

“Kiri! You didn’t tell us she was so pretty!” Mina skipped forward with a grin and immediately threw her arms around your stiff frame. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Mina Ashido.” 

“H-Hello, Ashido,” you stuttered, tacking on the -san honorific and awkwardly bowing once the pink-skinned hero released you. Then you quietly relayed your own name back, but Bakugo thought Stitches suited you better. 

“Aww! You’re so cute, but you can just call me Mina,” the acidic hero said with a wink. “We’re all friends here!” 

“Alright… Mina,” you relented, sans honorific. Bakugo could see the profile of your smile, and while it was still stiff, there was a little relief there, too. 

Why was he noticing this stupid shit? 

“Awesome! Now, come meet the guys.” Mina grabbed your hand without shame and tugged you the rest of the way to the table, over to where Kaminari and Sero were staring at you intently. 

Bakugo felt something prickle in his chest at the looks in their eyes, but he stomped it deep, deep down as he marched over to the opposite end of the table, threw himself into a chair, and helped himself to one of the several pitchers of beer that littered the tabletop. While he gulped down the cold amber liquid, he did his best to tune out the conversation happening a few feet away, but unfortunately, you wielded your quirk well, so he could hear every single word even if he didn’t want to. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Okie doke! So, this is tonight’s birthday boy, Denki Kaminari! But you might know him as the electrifying hero, Chargebolt!” 

Your new ‘friend’ Mina flourished a hand at the blond who was still practically gaping at you, and his mouth moved like he was trying to say something, but all that came out was a faint wheezing sound. 

You smiled stiffly and lifted a hand in a weak wave. “Hello. Happy birthday.” 

Chargebolt just continued to blink at you, so the tall and lanky man beside him stepped in. 

“Please forgive him,” the dark-haired man said as he slapped Chargebolt on the back and smiled at you. “He’s a lightweight and has had a few drinks already. And like Mina said, Kirishima didn’t tell us he was bringing such lovely company. I’m Hanta Sero, by the way.” 

Your cheeks burned at the casual compliment he threw your way, not to mention the smooth way he talked and his easy-going smile, which was a little toothy but suited his friendly face. You also recognized him as another pro, but his hero name was escaping you at the moment. 

“I-It’s nice to meet you, Sero,” you said, adding the -san honorific even though Mina had already told you it was unnecessary. It just felt wrong to talk to so many pro heroes so informally. “I, um, hope I’m not intruding on anything.” 

“Nonsense!” Mina cried out as she bumped her shoulder against yours. “Do you know how long I’ve been dying for another woman to be added to our group? When these guys get together, it can be testosterone central. Nights like these almost always end up with them challenging each other to some stupid dare or competition.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t participate in or at least encourage more than half of those dares, Mina,” Sero teased, and he took a sip off his beer before his dark eyes settled on you again. “But she’s right, it’s nice to meet someone new, so don’t feel like you’re intruding.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled uncertainly, still feeling awkward when everyone else seemed so comfortable and familiar with each other. 

How the hell did you end up here? Thirty minutes ago, you were in your pjs… 

“Soooo, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Mina suggested and drew you out of your inner lamenting, and she guided you into the chair she previously had her feet propped on. “Kiri said you were currently living at their agency?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed, sweat beading on your brow when you looked up and realized three sets of eyes were glued to you. “It’s, um, well it’s kind of a long story…” 

“Then we’ll need some apps!” Mina grinned, turned to the other end of the table, and snapped her fingers. “Hey, Kats, can you grab a waiter and order the usual appetizers?” 

Your gaze trailed to the side and found Bakugo leaning back in a chair at the opposite end of the table, an almost empty beer glass half raised to his frowning mouth. 

“I told you to stop calling me that, Raccoon Eyes,” he grunted. “And I’m not getting shit. You’re lucky I even showed up.” 

“Yes, thank you for gracing us with your sparkling presence, Great Lord Explosion Dynamight,” Mina said as she rolled her black and gold eyes. 

“Actually, I think it was Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” Sero chimed in with a smirk. 

“Shut the fuck up, Tapeface,” Bakugo growled. 

Cellophane, your mind abruptly supplied. That was Sero’s hero name. 

“Oh my god, I forgot Kacchan chose such a stupid name,” Kaminari suddenly snickered, and he seemed to have recomposed himself from earlier because he actually caught your eye and grinned. “Back at U.A., we had to choose our own hero names, and—” 

“Dunceface, just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass,” Bakugo cut in as he bared his teeth, and you thought his cheeks might have been a little pink. 

Was pro hero Dynamight embarrassed by his friends? Maybe he was a little more human than you thought. 

“Always so mean, Kacchan,” Kaminari pouted, a bit of sunflower-yellow hair flopping into his eyes. “You can’t even be nice on my birthday?” 

“No,” Bakugo answered flatly, to which the still standing Kirishima leaned over and cuffed him over the head for. 

“Yes, he can,” the redhead said as he shot his partner a sharp look, and then he turned back to the table with his characteristic bright smile. “We’ll go get some food and a round of drinks. Just the usual?” 

“Yup! You’re a doll, Kiri, thanks!” Mina winked and blew the hardening hero a kiss, and now you thought his cheeks went a little pink. 

Interesting. 

Before you could think about this any further, Kirishima’s red eyes found yours. 

“Do you have any specific requests?” he asked. “Or any allergies?” 

“No allergies.” You shook your head and smiled at him. “And no requests. I’m fine with whatever you guys order.” 

“Are you sure?” Kirishima frowned. “You can have whatever you want. It’s our treat.” 

And your mother had taught you to never be picky or greedy when someone else was paying, but before you could politely refuse once more, Bakugo jumped in. 

“She said she was fine, Shitty Hair,” he grumbled. “Just go order already. I’m fuckin’ starving.” 

“Well, if you’re so hungry, then you’re coming with me,” Kirishima said as he narrowed his eyes at his partner, and then he leaned over, wrapped his hands around Bakugo’s bicep, and hauled him out of the chair as if he weighed as much as a sack of flour. 

“Wha— Shitty Hair, I said I wasn’t getting—” 

“You said you were starving,” the redhead corrected, and he started to shove the blond past the wooden partition surrounding the table. “So we need to get some food in you, STAT. Come on, stay with me, Bakubro. Don’t go into the light.” 

“You motherf—” Bakugo tried to dig his heels in, but Kirishima just kept shoving him forward like a petulant toddler, and the last thing you saw of the blond was his crimson eyes finding yours for a split instant over his shoulder. 

“We’ll be back in a minute, guys!” Kirishima called out behind him, and then he and Bakugo disappeared into the crowded bar. 

Which left you alone. With three professional heroes. That you didn’t know. 

You plastered on a smile and turned back to your new “friends.” 

“Things are never dull with those two around, huh?” you joked. 

“Ugh, try surviving a decade with all these knuckleheads,” Mina groaned as she leaned forward and ruffled Kaminari’s hair. 

“Why is everyone being so mean to me on my birthday?” the blond whined before his yellowish eyes found yours. “You’re not going to be mean to me, too, are you?” 

“N-No, of course not,” you stuttered. 

Kaminari immediately perked up, grinned, and started to shove Sero out of the booth beside him. “Did you hear that, Sero? I’ve got a new best friend, so you can move now.” 

“What did I do?” Sero laughed and planted his leg so he couldn’t be pushed onto the ground. “Besides, shouldn’t you at least learn her name before declaring her your new best friend?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you gasped and then quickly introduced yourself. “I, uh, completely forgot.” 

“No worries.” Sero smiled. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” 

“Yeah, and that’s such a pretty name, it suits you,” Kaminari quickly added as he gave up on trying to push Sero out of the booth. 

“Right? I thought so, too.” Mina winked at you. 

“Thank you.” You blushed and fidgeted, unused to being complimented at all let alone by beautiful pro heroes. 

Because they were all beautiful, even the men. Mina was obvious, with her pastel-pink skin showcased by her cut off denim shorts and cropped tank top. Silver sparkles glittered around her alluring two-toned eyes, and the tips of the yellow horns poking out of her hair were dyed silver as well. She was an explosion of color, and it was hard to tear your eyes off her. 

But the men were nothing to scoff at, either. Kaminari’s yellow hair was disheveled but in an endearing way, the black zig zag in his bangs matching the slim black choker around his neck. His smile was just as friendly and bright as Kiri’s, if a little more goofy, which contrasted with his all black outfit and faded band tee. 

Meanwhile, Sero was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with his raven-black hair just long enough to fall into his equally dark eyes. He wore a dark, short sleeved button up with a denim jacket thrown over the back of the booth behind him, and his long but muscular legs were stretched out and wrapped in light colored, distressed jeans. For the first time, you noticed the bulges around his elbows, and you couldn’t help but feel curious. Your quirk was invisible, so you always thought people with physical manifestations of their power were fascinating. 

Sero must have noticed your gaze because he stretched out his arm and flexed his elbow, the lithe muscles in his bicep rippling with the motion. 

“Tape comes out of them,” he chuckled. “If you didn’t know.” 

“N-No, I did,” you stammered. “I’ve, um, seen you on the news before. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I just… didn’t think I would end this night by meeting pro heroes Cellophane, Chargebolt, and Pinky.” 

“Heyy, the night’s barely even started,” Sero said as a wide grin stretched across his mouth. “And seriously, we’re just regular people. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around us.” 

“Yeah,” Mina added and bumped your shoulder. “And I promise we’re all much nicer than Bakugo.” 

“Stop talkin’ shit about me behind my back, Raccoon Eyes.” 

You jumped when the blond’s voice suddenly came from behind you, and you craned your neck back to see him standing there with a scowl and tray of what looked like sake, shot glasses, and a bottle of… whisky? 

“I talk shit about you to your face, too, Kats, don’t worry,” Mina teased. 

Bakugo’s scowl only deepened as he stomped forward and set the tray on the table. Kirishima was on his heels carrying a similar tray, but this one was full of food. You saw some gyoza, calamari, edamame, and karaage, along with several other dishes, and your mouth immediately started to water as you remembered how hungry you were. 

“Sorry that took a minute,” Kirishima said as he set the food on the table. “They said the first round was on the house in honor of Denk’s birthday, but if we want refills, we just need to flag someone down.” 

“Awesome, let’s take shots!” Kaminari lunged forward, grabbed two shots of whisky, and held one out to you. 

“O-Oh, thank you,” you said and took the small glass, even though you didn’t usually drink, and when you did, it was almost never whisky. 

“To my birthday!” Kaminari cheered as everyone else picked up their glasses and raised them. Then his yellow eyes found yours, and he winked. “And to new friends. Kanpai!” 

“Kanpai,” you muttered timidly, and everyone clinked glasses. The back of your neck suddenly prickled as the others took their shots, and you looked up to see Bakugo staring at you over his now empty glass. You flushed under his scrutiny before tilting your head back and letting the liquor burn down your throat. 

“Woo!” Kaminari shook his head, and you swore you saw sparks dance off the ends of his hair. 

“Alright, now that we have food and drinks, I think we were promised a long story,” Mina said as she picked up a piece of calamari, popped it into her mouth, and turned to you expectantly. 

“Yeah, yeah!” Kaminari excitedly leaned forward. “Kiri said Bakubro blew up your neighborhood or something?” 

“Shitty Hair is dramatic,” Bakugo cut in, and he shot his partner a glare. “I didn’t blow up a whole fucking neighborhood.” 

“Wellllll,” Kirishima drawled as he poured himself a beer, “you tore up the street for almost a whole block. And we are having to fix up numerous buildings.” 

“The villain did most of that shit,” Bakugo sneered. “And he would have done worse if I didn’t stop him.” 

“Uh-huh, sureeee, Kats,” Mina said as she fought back a smile. 

Bakugo scowled and opened his mouth to retaliate, but you beat him to it. 

“No, he’s right,” you spoke up without meaning to, and then cursed yourself when every eye turned on you. “I-I mean, I saw the villain, and he was destroying the block. A few other heroes were trying to stop him, but they weren’t making much progress until Dynamight arrived.” 

“See?” Bakugo smirked as he leaned back and rocked his chair onto its rear legs. “Listen to Stitches.” 

“Stitches?” Kaminari and Mina echoed in unison, and the smirk immediately fell from Bakugo’s face. 

Your own flushed with heat, and you sank a little bit in your chair, hoping the ground would just swallow you up. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s Bakubro’s nickname for—” Kirishima cut himself off as he popped a gyoza into his mouth and gestured to you. His expression was innocent, but you could have sworn you saw a mischievous glint in his gaze. 

“Oh, reallllllly?” Mina asked with a sly grin, and her black and gold eyes flickered from you to Bakugo and back again. 

“She’s a fuckin’ seamstress,” Bakugo snapped defensively. “And you know I can’t be bothered to remember names.” 

“Mmmhmm, I’ve heard that one before,” the pink-skinned hero snickered before she turned her attention on you. “But you’re a seamstress? That’s so cool! Can you make clothes as well as do like touch ups?” 

“Well, I don’t know how cool it actually is, but yeah,” you laughed self-consciously and had to fight the urge to fiddle with your hair or necklace. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress, and my dad taught me the basics of sewing when I was young, so I took over the family shop about a year ago after my grandparents passed.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mina said with a momentary frown. “But I’m sure they would love the fact that you’re keeping their legacy going!” 

“Yeah, I like to think so, too.” You smiled softly and could feel the whisky working its way through your system, lowering your guard. “In any case, taking up their shop was better than anything I had going on back home in America, so I can’t complain much.” 

“Wait, you’re American?” Kaminari gasped as he slapped a hand against the table, rattling the dishes. He had a little dipping sauce smeared in the corner of his mouth, and it definitely helped to lower him a bit from the pedestal of pro hero. 

“Yes.” You blushed. “My parents moved to America before I was born, so I grew up there.” 

“Wow, I would have never guessed,” Sero said and smiled. “Your accent is perfect.” 

“It’s far from perfect.” You deflected the compliment with another nervous laugh. “But my family grew up speaking in Japanese, and I studied languages and linguistics in college, so I’m glad it all ended up being worth it.” 

“Can you say something in English?” Kaminari blurted out. 

“Um, sure?” you half-asked, half-stated. “What, uh, do you want me to say?” 

“She’s not a circus monkey, Denki,” Kirishima interjected, and he frowned as he turned to you. “You don’t have to.” 

“Aww, come on,” Kaminari pouted as his yellow eyes pleaded with yours. “We all studied English in high school, but none of us really kept up with it. I just think it sounds so cool! Especially the curse words. I kinda know some of those. Ooooh, can you say, ‘Chargebolt is fucking awesome?” 

“Denki…” Sero sighed, and he mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ to you. 

“Fine, you don’t have to say that exactly,” Kaminari amended. “What about… ‘Chargebolt is the best fucking electric hero there is.’ Or ‘Chargebolt is the toughest bastard I’ve ever met!’” 

“Someone shut him up,” Bakugo grumbled as he poured himself some sake. 

“No, it’s fine, really,” you assured him, which caused Bakugo to frown at you. Then you faced the electric hero again as you summoned up your courage. “Um, okay, how about…” 

In the end, what came out of your mouth was not what you intended. 

“I don’t know how the hell I ended up here,” you said in English. “And I’m praying to every god I don’t believe in that I’m not making a complete fool of myself in front of all you really important people. But Chargebolt is fucking awesome.” 

“Hey, that’s me!” The blond grinned and pointed at himself. “I don’t know what else you said, but it sounded sweet. And you can call me Denki, by the way.” 

He winked at you, and you had to wonder if he asked you to call him Chargebolt just so he could use that line. 

You smiled politely and tried not to think about how you must be sweating through your dress. 

“So, you’re pretty, have a degree, speak multiple languages, sew, and own your own business?” Mina whistled as she sipped on some sake. “That’s impressive.” 

“She can cook really well, too!” Kirishima chimed in and shot you an encouraging smile. “I’ve stolen some of her dinner while she’s been staying at the agency, and it’s always delicious.” 

“Stoppp,” you said, well more like begged, as your whole body prickled with embarrassment. “I really just throw stuff into a pan and hope it tastes good.” 

“The mark of a true chef,” Kirishima said with a wink. 

“Well, maybe you could cook for us one day,” Sero suggested as his dark eyes studied you, but his smile was friendly and warm. “Bakugo does that for us sometimes when we he refuses to be dragged out to dinner.” 

“No, I just cook myself dinner, and somehow you leeches always show up,” the blond grunted and drew your attention to him. He was still leaning back in his chair, but now his arms were crossed over his thick chest, and he was glaring down the table. He didn’t seem like he was having fun, but these were his friends, and maybe this was just their dynamic. 

“So, how come there’s always enough food for all of us, Kats?” Mina teased over the rim of her beer. 

Bakugo didn’t seem to have an answer to that, and the table laughed. 

You smiled awkwardly and, with the attention off you momentarily, leaned forward to grab some of the finger foods. The pro heroes around you bantered with each other while you snacked on gyoza and edamame, and you sighed with relief as your snarling stomach was finally satiated. You tried each of the dishes, and they were all delicious, made better for the fact that you didn’t have to make or pay for them. 

“Stitches!” 

You snapped your head up, edamame skin still hanging from your mouth, to find the whole table staring at you. 

“S-Sorry,” you mumbled as your swallowed and discarded the edamame. “What?” 

“She’s not a dog, Bakugo,” Mina huffed and rolled her eyes. “I apologize for him.” 

“What’s there to apologize for?” the blond asked at the end of the table. “She wasn’t answering when you called her, so I got her attention for you.” 

“Interesting that you answered to Stitches instead of your name, though,” Kirishima said with a sly grin cast in your direction. 

“I’ve just… heard that more in the last few days,” you mumbled and fidgeted with the empty glass in front of you. 

“Oh, do you need some beer?” Kaminari blurted out before he leaned forward, grabbed one of the pitchers on the table, and filled your glass. “There you go.” 

“Thank you,” you said, and you picked up the glass just so you could have something to do with your hands. The beer was a little warm when you took a sip, but you didn’t even like beer that much anyway, so it made little difference to you. “Sorry, um, what were you all trying to ask me?” 

“I just wanted to know if these guys have been treating you alright. Well, besides Mr. Explosion Murder blowing up your shop.” Mina gestured at Bakugo and Kirishima, and the former scowled while the latter frowned. 

“O-Oh, no, they’ve— everyone’s been so nice this past week,” you fumbled out. “I’ve really wanted for nothing. And besides, like Dy— Bakugo said, the villain’s to blame for most of the damage anyway, so, um, no hard feelings there.” 

You internally cringed and cursed yourself for faltering over Bakugo’s name. You didn’t want to seem too informal with him, so you’d decided to use his hero name at first, but then you realized that might seem weird since you were sitting and eating with his friends. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anything between the two of you besides an embarrassing, unrequited crush on your side. You needed to stop being so weird. 

“Yeah, see, Mina?” Kirishima puffed out his chest. “I can take care of people. Red Riot’s a hero of the people, after all.” 

The rest of the pros groaned at the sappy sentiment, but you flashed the redhead a small smile because it was true. The people did love Red Riot, and after spending time with him, you could clearly see why. He was kind and considerate, not to mention brave and strong. But, if the quick looks he kept shooting Mina when he thought no one was looking were any indication, you weren’t the only one at this table with a secret crush. 

But maybe you were reading into things. That shot of whisky could have gone straight to your head, you were such a lightweight. 

“I was less worried about you, Kiri,” Mina said with a wave of her hand. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Bakugo growled. 

“I rest my case.” Mina raised a sake cup, downed the liquor, and turned to you. “Seriously, if you get sick of his attitude before your place is fixed up, you can come stay at my agency.” 

“Or mine!” Kaminari said as he tossed his hand up in the air like he was a particularly enthusiastic student dying to answer a question. 

“Well, if everyone’s throwing their hat in the ring, I will, too.” Sero grinned ad nodded at you. “My door is always open.” 

“Stop trying to glom onto my thing,” Mina pouted. “She’ll come stay at my agency. That way we can have girl’s night!” 

“No, that’s not fair!” Kaminari argued. “That’s… that’s sexist!” 

“What?” Mina arched an eyebrow as Sero snorted into his beer. 

“I don’t know,” the blond whined and immediately backtracked. “You know things just come out of my mouth sometimes. But you still can’t just claim Stitches. That’s not fair.” 

Now he was calling you Stitches, too? 

“I hate to second Denki, but he’s right,” Sero chimed in as he downed his own sake glass. “The fairest thing would be for Stitches to have equally long stays at each of our agencies.” 

“Uh, since when—” Kirishima started to interject. 

“Okay, but I get Stitches first,” Mina asserted and popped a piece of calamari in her mouth. 

You might as well change the name on your passport at this point. 

“Um, can ‘Stitches’ say something?” you asked as you tentatively raised a hand. 

“No,” Bakugo suddenly snapped and drew every eye to him. He was scowling, which wasn’t unusual, but the fire in his red eyes was incongruous with the conversation. “She’s staying at our agency until her shit’s fixed. End of fucking story.” 

The rest of the table blinked at him in surprise, you included, and a long stretch of silence descended on the lot of you. Bakugo continued to glare defiantly at his friends, like he was daring them to challenge him, and finally the silence became too much for you. 

“I, uh, was actually going to say that I’m honestly fine with where I am right now,” you spoke up, but you shrank back a little in your seat when Bakugo’s crimson eyes shot to you. “I just— it’s only going to be a few weeks anyway. The room I’m in is really nice, and I don’t want to have to move again until I’m going home. Besides, Kirishima and Bakugo really have taken care of everything for me, and I don’t want to be any more of a bother than I have been.” 

“And I’ve repeatedly told you that you aren’t a bother,” Kirishima countered before he smiled at you. “But I’m glad to know you’ve enjoyed your stay.” 

“Butttttttt if Kacchan is ever too mean to you…” Kaminari drawled and flashed you a wink. 

“I’m the Number Two hero, I’m perfectly fucking nice,” Bakugo spat. 

“Might be Number One if you learned now to smile, Kats,” Mina giggled. 

“Fuck all of you,” the blond growled, and then he slammed his chair down on all four legs, grabbed one of the sake carafes, and ignored the cups entirely as he took a swig straight from the bottle. 

His friends laughed again before Sero suddenly straightened up in the booth like he was peeking over the wooden divide around them, and a grin split his mouth in half. 

“Speaking of Number One…” he said. 

“Oh, is Izu finally here?” Mina gasped and whirled around. 

Izu? You frowned in confusion and dismay. You didn’t know they were expecting more people to show up, and while you couldn’t place the name, it was safe to assume this new person was another pro hero. 

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bakugo grunted as he slammed the sake bottle onto the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Who invited the nerd?” 

Whoever this person was, Bakugo didn’t seem to be a fan, but Mina’s voice pulled you from your musings. 

“I did, Kats, calm down,” she said with another eye roll. “A few weeks ago, he helped Denki and I with a case that our agencies ended up working together on.” 

“Yeah, it had been a while since I’d seen him, maybe before his last America trip, but it was actually hella fun getting to work with him,” Kaminari added before his eyes lit up, and he lifted an arm to wave over his head. “Yo, Midoriya!” 

“Denki!” everyone hissed in unison, and Sero used his long arm to pull the blond’s down. 

“Do you want us getting mobbed?” Mina chided and leaned forward to bop Kaminari on the head like a disobedient puppy. Then she saw you blinking around in confusion, and she flashed you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s just, while we might all be pros, Izuku’s on another level. If people figure out he’s here, we’ll be swarmed with fans asking for pics and autographs. And he’s so nice, he’ll talk to every single person who approaches him.” 

“That’s cuz he enjoys all the hot air people blow up his ass,” Bakugo grumbled as he slumped in his seat, and you could have sworn he was hiding a pout behind the rim of his full beer. 

Wait a second… Mina had said Izuku, but Kaminari called him Midoriya… Izuku Midoriya. Where had you heard that name before? 

“Sorry I’m late guys!” a voice said from behind you. “I actually can’t stay long, either, one of my sidekicks needed his shift covered, but I just wanted to drop by and say happy birthday, Denki!” 

Why did he sound familiar? 

“Hey, thanks, man.” Kaminari grinned as he pushed to his feet and clambered over Sero, exiting the booth and walking around the table to embrace the man behind you. 

You chanced a glance over your shoulder and then had to crane your neck up to fully take in the newcomer. He was tall, taller than Kaminari but not quite as tall as Kirishima, and his frame was incredibly broad, nearly enveloping Denki’s slighter form as they hugged. When they pulled apart, you saw the man was dressed in dark, nondescript clothing, and a baseball cap was pulled low over his face. But it didn’t quite hide the mess of green curls spilling out from under the rim, and when he lifted his head and smiled at the table with a face full of freckles and white teeth, you felt like the breath had been punched out of you. 

Because standing in front of you was Izuku Midoriya, hero name Deku, the top hero in Japan and most of the world, the Symbol of Peace. 

You definitely needed a sinkhole to open up directly beneath you now. Right now. 

Your body amped up its sweat production even more, and the blood roaring in your ears blocked out the sound of Mina and the others greeting Deku. You cast your eyes around in the futile hopes of an escape route, and when none were forthcoming, you decided you at least needed some sake for courage. Your hands shook as you hurriedly poured the liquid, but the burn seemed to take the razor-sharp edge off your panic, so at least you didn’t start hyperventilating. As you were contemplating a second sake, you felt eyes on you, and you looked over to find Bakugo still seated, still sulking behind his beer, but now he was almost… glaring at you? His upper lip also seemed to be curled in disgust, and you had just a split second to wonder if you’d spilled something on yourself before someone called your name. 

“Y-Yes?” You half-turned in your chair, but when you realized numerous eyes were locked on you, you hastily rushed to your feet. 

“We just wanted to introduce you,” Mina said as she gestured at Deku. 

“Hello.” The tall, green-haired man smiled with the same friendly smile you’d seen on TV, and he held out a large, scarred hand for you to shake. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. It’s nice to meet you.” 

You blanky muttered your name and watched as if from a distance as his hand enveloped yours completely, scars and callouses rough against your skin for an instant before he pulled away. 

“Eijiro says you’re a guest at his agency,” Deku went on, and his emerald eyes seemed to study you with genuine interest. 

“Y-Yes,” you stuttered, your throat suddenly dry. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, even as an awkward silence descended upon the table, so you just continued to smile forcefully until Kirishima came to the rescue. 

“Her shop and apartment were destroyed by… a villain Bakugo stopped about a week ago,” the redhead explained. 

“Oh, no, that must have been very hard on you,” Deku said with a sympathetic frown. His voice was very light and gentle, like he was talking to a frightened child, but your brain continued to rattle around your skull like a rogue pinball. 

“It’s good,” you muttered, but when the Symbol of Peace frowned at you, the words registered in your head, and you rushed to clarify. “I-I mean, it’s fine. I’m fine. Sorry, Japanese isn’t my first language. But, um, I’m… fine. Kirishima and Bakugo have taken very good care of me while my apartment is repaired. Bakugo even gave me his own credit card. W-Well, I mean it’s an agency card, not like his own personal one, um…” 

You let you a nervous giggle that was only a touch hysterical, but in your mind you were screaming for yourself to shut up. You even went so far as to bite the inside of your cheek, and the metallic taste of blood shocked enough sense back into you that you finally, blissfully, lapsed into silence. 

“Well,” Deku said, and his smile was amused now, but not in a mean way, “I’m glad Kacchan is being so accommodating.” 

“Shut the hell up, nerd,” Bakugo finally spoke up from the end of the table. “I can be nice when I fucking want to.” 

“I know. That’s why you’re nipping at my heels in the rankings.” The Symbol of Peace turned his smile on the blond now, and you almost sagged in relief to not be pinned under his gaze anymore. 

“Damn straight.” Bakugo scowled and narrowed his scarlet eyes. “I’m coming for your throne next time, Deku.” 

“It’s good to see you, too, Kacchan.” Deku’s smile turned fond. 

“Whatever.” Bakugo rolled his eyes and reached out to pour himself another beer. “Are you going to fuckin’ sit down or just hover? Your looming shadow is pissing me off.” 

Deku winced and rolled up his sleeve to look at his watch. “I really can’t stay long. The shift I’m covering starts in about two hours…” 

“Awww, come on, Izu,” Mina pouted and wrapped herself around his massive bicep. “Just have one drink with us.” 

“I don’t know…” he said, and his brow furrowed as he bit his lip. 

“Dude, just one drink,” Kaminari cajoled. “For my birthday. Your quirk will burn it off before your shift even starts.” 

“If you leave now, Denki’s just going to pout and sulk all night,” Sero chimed in. 

“Well, I don’t want to ruin your birthday, Denki.” The Number One hero smiled ruefully. “I’ll stay for one drink. But just one!” 

Everyone cheered, save you and Bakugo. Bakugo just rolled his eyes again and refocused on his beer. Meanwhile, you plastered on a bright, fake smile and wondered if this night would ever end. 

The group reshuffled to make room for Deku. Sero, Mina, and Kaminari squeezed back into the booth, with Mina in the middle. Kirishima took the chair closest to Bakugo at the end of the table, which left Deku to take the chair on the opposite end, sandwiching you between him and the hardening hero. 

“Is this alright? Do you have enough room?” Deku asked as he shifted his chair an inch away from you. 

Given how both he and Kirishima were over six feet, and as wide as the broad side of a barn, you were admittedly feeling a little claustrophobic, but you would never admit it. 

“I’m fine,” you said with the same fake smile that hadn’t left your face in so long that your cheeks were starting to hurt. “Do you have enough room?” 

“Yup!” Deku grinned as Mina took it upon herself to dole out a second round of whisky shots. Everyone clinked glasses, shouted ‘kanpai!’ and downed the liquor, and then the green-haired hero turned back to you. “So, what kind of shop do you run?” 

You knew he was just being polite and trying to include you, and he did look genuinely interested, but you wished you could fade out of existence rather than be the focal point of his attention. 

“O-Oh, nothing exciting I’m afraid,” you chuckled with the taste of whisky still burning a hole through your tongue. “I just do alterations. On clothes. You know, patching school uniforms and taking suits in or out.” 

“Wow, that must require a lot of precision,” Deku said, and he didn’t sound condescending. Then he laughed as he lifted his large hands and flexed his scarred fingers. “Dexterity like that isn’t one of my strong suits.” 

“Says the top hero in the world,” Kaminari scoffed. 

“I don’t know about that.” Deku smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, and he suddenly looked a little younger, less imposing. 

“Oh, come on, dude. What about that thing you just did on our joint mission a few weeks ago? Mina was there!” 

“Are you talking about him shooting Black Whip through a hole the size of a quarter, in between falling debris?” Mina tapped her chin with a thoughtful look. 

“Nooo,” Kaminari groaned. “Though that was awesome, too. I’m talking about…” 

The conversation devolved into hero exploits from there, which you could not be more grateful for. It was kind of like listening to gods talk about their adventures, so you just continued to smile politely and nod while sipping on sake and silently sneaking snacks. Your surroundings and hearing started to feel a little fuzzy, which was a sign you should probably stop drinking, but it was the only think keeping you calm while you were literally pinned in by gigantic, larger-than-life heroes. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t completely invisible, because the conversation eventually turned back to you when Deku was talking about his last America trip, and Kaminari oh so helpfully pointed out that you were American. 

Then everyone had a million questions for you about the United States. Deku wanted to know where you grew up, and it turned out that he’d actually been one city over from your hometown at some point. Then he wanted to know if you’d visited some of the other places he’d been to, and you had to inform him that you unfortunately weren’t very well traveled before you came to Japan, which Deku said was a shame. 

Meanwhile, Mina wanted to know what the fashion trends were like in America. And, again, you had to sadly inform her how you weren’t very up to date on fashion. You liked what you liked and what felt comfortable, and you never really paid attention to the five-minute fads that came and went on social media. But you did show her a few outfits that you had made for yourself, and she gushed about how good they looked, how she loved the colors, and if you could make something for her. Which caused Kirishima to snicker and mouth, “Told you so,” at you. 

From there, Sero actually asked about your quirk, which made you immediately tense up, and you swore you saw both Kirishima and Bakugo shift in your peripherals. But you just said you had a minor healing quirk that was all but useless, which was why you had turned to academic studies, particularly languages, for your degree. You hurried the conversation on from there, and thankfully no one seemed to notice the way your hands shook around your almost empty beer glass. 

Then Kaminari butted in and bluntly asked what the dating scene was like back home and if you had a boyfriend waiting for you in the States. 

“Denki,” Sero sighed as he shoved the blond’s head to the side. “Stop being rude, or we’ll have to cut you off.” 

“It was just a question,” Kaminari defended, and his yellowish eyes were a little bloodshot, probably due to the several shots he’d take off the whisky bottle. 

“A rude question,” Sero said as he casually sipped his beer, but his dark eyes wandered over to yours and glinted with their own curiosity. 

“I-It’s okay,” you muttered, cheeks and ears hot with alcohol and embarrassment. “I, uh, don’t have anyone waiting for me back in America.” 

“Whaaaaaaa?” Kaminari gaped. “Then you found a boyfriend here in Japan?” 

Every eye was suddenly trained on you, even Bakugo’s at the end of the table, and you downed your countless sake cup for courage. 

“No,” you said after you swallowed, and you refused to lift your gaze off the table. “I’m… single.” 

“Impossible.” Kaminari rapidly shook his head, sending sparks flying off the ends of his hair. “I mean, just look at you!” 

You face flared with so much heat you thought you were going to burst a blood vessel. 

“Have you ever had a partner before?” Mina suddenly jumped in. 

“Mina, not you, too,” Kirishima groaned. “Leave her alone. I didn’t bring her so you guys could gang up on her.” 

“Yeah, when did this fuckin’ turn into a sleepover game?” Bakugo interjected. It was the first time he’d spoken since Deku arrived, and when you glanced at his end of the table, you saw an empty pitcher of beer sitting in front of his slightly pink, scowling face. 

“Oh my god, that’s a great idea!” Mina gasped and clapped her hands. “We should play Never Have I Ever! I’ll go first. Never have I ever had a partner before.” 

“I know that’s a damn lie,” Kaminari snorted, which earned him a soft slap to the head. “Owwww. Why’re you hitting me? You’re the one trying to trick Stitches into answering.” 

“I don’t think it’s fair if you’re targeting one person with your questions, Mina,” Deku laughed. 

“Umm, we really don’t need this song and dance,” you said as you tried not to spontaneously combust. “I’ve, uh, had partners before. A few boyfriends in college, but nothing serious, and nothing in several years.” 

Why were you talking about this? Why did the universe hate you so furiously? 

“Man, American guys must be fucking blind and dumb, because you’re sooo hot,” Kaminari muttered and then ducked when Sero and Mina both tried to headslap him. “Ha! Denki for the win.” 

“Ignore him.” Mina rolled her two-toned eyes before she grinned at you. “But if you’re single, are you looking to settle down here in Japan? Because I know a few guys at my agency who would make great husband material!” 

Your polite smile fractured like glacial ice. Husband? 

“Um, excuse me?” Kaminari frowned and gestured around the table. “What about the husband material sitting right in front of you?” 

Mina wrinkled her nose as she glanced at each of the men in turn, and then she shook her head. “Deku and Kiri are the only viable options, and Kiri’s taken.” 

“Uhhh, no I’m not,” Kirishima interjected. 

“Aren’t you seeing that girl from the tea shop downtown?” Mina furrowed her brow. 

“No, she just gave me her number. I never called her.” 

“Why not?” Mina asked, and she cocked her head. “She was cute.” 

“W-Weren’t we asking Stitches questions?” Kirishima suddenly deflected as his cheeks went a little red. 

The bastard. 

“Oh, yeah.” Mina turned back to you. “Where was I?” 

“You were saying apparently only Deku and Kiri are viable husbands,” Sero helpfully supplied, but his tone was playfully bitter. 

“Come on, Han, you and I both know you’re at least five years from settling down,” Mina teased. “You love going out too much.” 

“And what about me?” Kaminari protested. 

Mina shifted in the booth to give the blond a long once over. “You still need about ten years to finish maturing, Denks.” 

“Rude.” The electric hero pouted. “What about Kacchan? No way he gets married before me.” 

A flame licked down your spine as you suddenly imagined Bakugo in a suit, standing at the end of a flower-strewn aisle… 

No. Stop it. Bad alcohol. Yet you still reached for your remaining flat and tepid beer and chugged the rest of it in one go. 

“I don’t know,” Deku suddenly interjected with a sly smile. “There was this girl in our preschool class that Kacchan gave flowers to…” 

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, nerd,” Bakugo spat. “She lived next door, and her dog died. The old hag made me bring her flowers.” 

“Ooooh, how is Mitsuki doing, by the way?” Kaminari asked. “Still a MILF?” 

A gyoza suddenly rocketed across the table and smacked Kaminari right in the face, leaving behind a smear of dipping sauce. 

“Say that about the old hag again,” Bakugo said with narrowed eyes, and his voice was deathly quiet. 

Kaminari whimpered and ducked behind Mina. “Kacchannnn, it’s my birthday, don’t hurt me. All I’m saying is your mom is and has always been very beautiful. It’s a compliment!” 

Deku snickered behind his hand, which drew Bakugo’s attention and his ire. 

“What are you laughing at, Deku?” he sneered. 

“Yeah, Inko’s just as hot,” Kaminari said as he peeked his head out from behind Mina. “But in a more matronly kinda way. Plus, her cooking is amazing!” 

“Hey.” Deku’s smirk suddenly turned into a frown. 

“Ugh, as you can see,” Mina chimed in and turned back to you. “They’re all a little hopeless.” 

“I’ve at least had a girlfriend,” Kaminari said with a haughty sniff. “Bakugo can’t say that.” 

What? That couldn’t be right. Pro Hero Dynamight had never had a girlfriend? 

Another gyoza— no, edamame this time— slapped into Kaminari’s forehead, even though he was still partially hiding behind Mina. 

“Dunceface, I swear to fuckin’ god…” Bakugo growled as he glowered at the other blond. 

“What? It’s true!” Kaminari said and ducked completely behind Mina again. 

Bakugo stood up so fast the table full of glasses and dishes rattled precariously. Crimson eyes glared down furiously at the gathered heroes but for some reason avoided you entirely, and meanwhile Kaminari was trying to go boneless and slide onto the floor for better cover. 

You gaped up at the explosive hero, and a silence that was equal parts angry on Bakugo’s part and awkward on everyone else’s descended over the table until Deku spoke up. 

“Kacchan, you know he was just kidding around,” he said in that gentle, soothing voice you internally dubbed his ‘hero voice.’ 

Bakugo snapped open his mouth like he was going to spit fire, but then he paused, with his eyes glaring at Deku over your head but not drifting toward you for even a second. 

Finally, he shoved his chair back completely with another rough scrape but kept it from hitting the wooden divide. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” he grunted before he stalked off into the bar, the tense line of his shoulders the last thing you see of him. 

Everyone glanced at the still quarter full whisky bottle that was sitting in front of Bakugo’s now empty seat, and another beat of silence passed. 

Then the faint sound of a phone alarm shattered the awkward quiet like brittle glass. 

“Oops, sorry, that’s me,” Deku said as he fished around in his jacket pocket and silenced his phone. “Not to go out on a sour note, but I have to get going. My shift starts in an hour, and I still have to get back to the agency, change, and do some paperwork I’ve been putting off.” 

“Boo,” Mina pouted before she sighed. “But we understand. Being Number One is hard work. But you do it well, Izu. All Might would be proud.” 

Tears suddenly glistened in Deku’s emerald eyes, and you tried to hide the shock on your face. You didn’t expect the Symbol of Peace to cry so easily… but it kind of made you like him more. 

“Thanks, Mina,” he rasped, and then he cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet. “It was so great to see all of you guys, and Denki, your gift should arrive at your apartment in the next few days.” 

“Aww, you shouldn’t have, man, thanks.” Kaminari also slid to his feet, and then the two heroes leaned over the table and gave each other a one armed embrace, which left you leaning off to the side and trying not to look up Deku’s shirt. 

Eventually, Kaminari sat down, and Deku shared another half embrace with Mina and a fist bump with Sero. Then the looming green-haired man pulled back and smiled down at you. 

“And it was really nice to meet you, um, Stitches?” He said it like a question. 

Now you really had to change your passport. 

Suddenly remembering your manners, you rushed to your feet and bowed your head slightly. 

“The pleasure was all mine, uh, Midoriya,” you replied and then immediately started second guessing yourself. Should you have called him Deku? Used the -sama honorific instead of -san? 

Thankfully, Deku just smiled and dipped his head back at you. 

“I hope we meet again, I have a lot of questions I want to ask you before my next trip to America,” he said with a twinkle in his green eyes. 

“Um, well, I’ll, uh, be at Kirishima’s agency for the next few weeks, and after that, um, well, he could tell you where my shop is, or give you my number, he has that, too,” you rambled before you bit the already raw spot on the inside of your cheek. 

What were you doing? Japan’s Number One Hero didn’t want your number, he was just being polite. 

“Oh, awesome!” Deku grinned. “I’ll be sure to get that from him.” 

There was no way that was true, but it was nice of him to keep up the façade. 

“Actually, just sent you her number, dude,” Kirishima jumped in, and when your gaze snapped to the redhead, you found him smiling and holding up his phone. 

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. He didn’t just share your number with Japan’s Number One hero… 

“Got it!” Said hero held up his phone in return, and now you had to wonder if you had actually slipped and cracked your head on the steps leading up to the bar and were now just languishing in some kind of torturous coma. 

“Ooh, shoot that over to me, too, Kiri,” Mina said as she took out her phone. 

“No, put it in the group chat!” Kaminari argued. 

You just stared around in shock until Deku’s low, quiet laughter caught your attention. When you shifted to look at him, you found him smiling at you. 

“Popularity can be a little overwhelming, huh?” he asked. 

You nodded mutely. 

“Well, whenever it gets a little much for me, I just like to remind myself that if so many people are liking me, I must be doing something right,” he chuckled before he pulled his cap a little further onto his curls and popped the collar of his jacket. “But also, you can tell them no sometimes. You’re entitled to that, even if they are heroes.” 

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” you said as you nervously twisted the rings on your fingers. 

“Good.” Deku nodded with another smile before he lifted his hand in a wave. “Have a good night, you guys! And happy birthday again, Denki!” 

“Thanks, man, have a good shift!” Kaminari waved back, echoed by the others with similar sentiments. 

“Be safe,” you muttered as you also waved goodbye, and soon Deku was ducking his head and ducking back into the crowd of the bar. Now, you were the only one left awkwardly standing, but thankfully Kirishima spoke up and grabbed everyone’s attention. 

“Well,” he sighed, “I better find Bakubro and make sure he’s alright.” 

“He probably left,” Sero snorted and downed another cup of sake. 

Kirishima frowned but didn’t argue, and he didn’t get up, which meant he most likely agreed with Sero. 

“His loss,” Kaminari scoffed. “I’m just about to order the second round. And maybe a few entrées for the table to share.” 

“I am still a little hungry,” Kirishima said before his eyes found yours. “Are you okay with sticking around a little longer? Sero’s right, Bakugo probably split, but we can just hang for another hour.” 

“Wooow, are we so terrible?” Mina smirked. 

“Yes, but I promised Stitches dinner, and appetizers just aren’t going to cut it,” Kirishima shot back playfully, but his gaze flicked to yours again. “If that’s alright with you?” 

“Of course.” You smiled and hoped it didn’t come off as strained as you felt. “I’m having a great time, you don’t have to worry about me. But, um, I actually wanted to run to the bathroom real quick if that’s okay.” 

“Sure—” Kirishima started. 

“I’ll take you!” Mina cut him off as she started to rise from the table. 

“No!” you said, a little more sharply than you intended, and Mina froze half out of the booth. “Sorry, I mean, if you need to, of course you can come with me, but don’t get up on my account. I-I saw the bathrooms on the way in, so I know the way.” 

“Are you sure?” Mina asked with a frown. 

“Positive.” You nodded. “You guys just order another round of drinks and food, and I’ll be back in a minute.” 

“Any requests?” Kirishima asked as you started to turn away. 

“Surprise me!” you said over your shoulder, and then you slipped off into the bar. 

You had lied to Mina. You hadn’t seen the bathrooms on the way in, so you stumbled blindly through the crowd, simultaneously keeping your head down so you wouldn’t meet anyone’s eye, and darting quick glances around at the walls for any signage. 

After bumping into half a dozen drunk people— or maybe you were the drunk one, you did feel a little more unsteady than usual in your boots—  you finally found the women’s bathroom. There was a line of course, but it wasn’t very long, and you were immensely grateful to not be the object of anyone’s attention for a minute. Unfortunately, you hadn’t lied about needing to use the bathroom, so you were practically dancing on your tiptoes by the time you stumbled into the stall. 

Damn alcohol always went right through you. 

Once you’d relieved yourself, you shuffled over to the sink to wash your hands. Several women were fixing their hair and makeup in the mirror, and you winced when you caught sight of your reflection. You hadn’t worn much makeup to begin with, so most of that was still intact, but your hair was frizzy from the humidity in the bar, and the clip keeping your bun in place was starting to hurt your head. You sighed as you took it out, running you damp fingers over your hair to try and tame the worst of it. In the end, there wasn’t much difference, but the headache just starting up in your temples had receded a bit, so you took that as a win. 

Slipping the hair clip into your pocket, you gave your reflection one last tired glance— trying to ignore how you swayed on your feet— before you summoned up your courage again and walked back out of the bathroom. 

Your feet were a little slow and reluctant, but you were making your way back to the table when a sudden blast of cooler air made you stop. You glanced to the right to see a glass door swinging closed and leading out onto a patio, strung with lights. It was a little too cold tonight, so all of the outside tables that you could see were empty, only a few smokers hovering as close as they could to the bar door. 

But beyond them, you could see a silhouette topped with familiar ash-blond hair, leaning against the railing overlooking the street… 

You hesitated there in the doorway. You knew that you should return to the table because Kirishima and the others would worry about you if you were gone too long, and it was Kaminari’s birthday, but… you recalled the look on Bakugo’s face when he stormed off. He seemed genuinely angry, upset. Had Kaminari’s joke really dug that deep under his skin? Or… was it a joke? Something about Bakugo’s reaction told you it wasn’t, but the fact that he hadn’t had a significant other seemed… ludicrous. Katsuki Bakugo was too handsome for his own good, bordering on beautiful, with his pale, sharp features and piercing red eyes. And that was not to mention his strength and prowess as a pro hero. Every woman, and more than a few men, in Japan wanted to be with him. Had he really never taken anyone up on the offer? 

A sudden cold breeze slapping you in the face yanked you from your thoughts, and you discovered that you had somehow walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped outside without your conscious permission. 

You panicked, about to turn and go back in, but then red eyes glanced over a broad shoulder and stabbed right into you, and you knew it was too late to go back now. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Bakugo couldn’t understand why he hadn’t gone home already. He should have. He’d already stormed off from the table, and Shitty Hair would probably assume he’d left already, which he should have. 

Instead, for some inexplicable reason, he was standing in the cold night air, glaring off the patio and down onto the shadowed street about six feet below. He still felt warmer than he should have, which told him he’d drank more than he intended, but fuck it. The idiots inside had been getting on his last goddamn nerve. 

First, it was Dunceface and Tapeface drooling all over you. Sero was less obvious, but Bakugo had seen the glint of interest in his eyes when he stared at you, asked you questions. And Kaminari had been just a step below popping a fucking boner all night. Bakugo saw the way his eyes kept trailing toward your cleavage. 

Not that he was staring at your cleavage. Well… maybe a little, but only when you leaned over the table to refill your glass or grab some food… 

“Fuck,” Bakugo snarled under his breath, shaking his head. 

He had spent the whole night convincing himself he didn’t care about you or what you thought, doing his best to just drink and ignore you, but his eyes kept trailing back to you no matter how much he fought it. He’d clocked how your stiff and awkward posture had gradually relaxed with more alcohol, how you blushed so fiercely every time Dunce or Tapeface threw a compliment your way. Then fucking Deku had to go and show up, and you went all starry-eyed, fumbling over your words more than you had been all night, staring at the nerd like everyone else did, like he hung the goddamn moon. 

Listening to the two of you talk about America, something Bakugo had no context for, had gotten under his skin, dug deep and writhing through his bones. You’d been smiling as you described your hometown, and Deku had been his usual ray of fucking sunshine self as he listed all the places he’d traveled to in your country. 

That would have been the worst of it, and something Bakugo could have handled, but then Kaminari had to go and open his fucking mouth. 

He had tried not to listen, tried not to be interested, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t absently wondered some of the same questions Kaminari asked. And though he would never say so out loud, he had to agree with Denki on one thing. American men must be stupid. You were… far from ugly and obviously intelligent, but the latter might have been a turn off from what Bakugo knew of Americans. Either way, your single status surprised him, and a kernel of… something had unfurled in his chest at the revelation. Bakugo refused to acknowledge it as excitement. 

He’d attempted to drown out the sensation with whisky, but between Mina trying to pimp you out, everyone suddenly calling you Stitches when that was his name for you, and goddamn Dunceface calling him out on his lack of relationship history, the alcohol had just turned that not-excitement into anger. 

He hadn’t meant to react, but the fire in his veins had propelled him to his feet, and he could still hear the clattering dishes in his mind. He’d fully intended to tell the whole table to just go to hell, but then he’d seen you staring up at him with wide, surprised eyes, and his anger had quickly twisted into embarrassment. He’d stomped off to save some face, but he wasn’t sure he had succeeded. 

Now, here he was, standing alone on a bar patio and hunching against the wind. When he’d initially stormed out here, there had been almost a dozen smokers scattered across the deck, but one look at Bakugo’s scowling face had sent most scurrying back inside. The few who remained had retreated near the bar door, but Bakugo could feel them glancing at him every now and then. He didn’t know if they recognized him or just sensed the enraged aura rolling off him, but Bakugo didn’t give a shit either way. 

A high-pitched laugh on the street below drew the blond’s attention, and he glanced down from where he was leaning against the railing. A woman had staggered drunkenly into the street, teetering on her too high heels. A man was stumbling behind her, and although Bakugo could hear the murmur of their voices, he couldn’t hear the actual words they were saying. Then the woman laughed again, twirling in circles like a ballerina as she threw her arms out to the side. She faltered on the uneven asphalt and lost her balance, but the man suddenly swooped her up into his arms and spun her around into a dramatic dip. The woman giggled as she wound her arms around the man’s neck and kissed him, and the two of them swayed in the middle of the street like they were the only people in the world. 

Bakugo sneered at them with the disgust he typically regarded overly affectionate couples with, but then, unbidden, he had the thought that you had a much nicer laugh than the woman on the street. You were just as clumsy, even when you were sober, but Bakugo suddenly wondered what it would feel like to have you in his arms, to dance with you and dip you like the man below had done. He imagined you would probably step on his foot at every turn, but it wouldn’t be so bad, especially if you were giggling in his ear like you had in his car last night… 

The blond slammed his eyes closed and vigorously shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about you. The drinking hadn’t worked, but maybe if he found someone else to occupy his thoughts for the night… 

Bakugo pushed off the railing and half turned to reenter the bar, but then he paused. The idea of going back inside, ordering another drink, and trying to find a one-night stand was suddenly very unappealing to him. His friends would probably spot him before long and call him out, poke fun at his attempt to get laid, which even just the thought of that happening irritated him. Then there was just the whole song and dance that he hated. Walking up to a woman or waiting for one to approach him. Buying them a drink. Engaging in useless small talk. It all sounded… terrible. 

He really should just go home. 

But then, inevitably, his thoughts drifted back to you. Was he really going to just leave you with his idiot friends? God knows what shit they were spouting now. They could be doing irreputable damage to Dynamight’s reputation. 

And why do you care so much about what Stitches thinks? a voice that sounded annoyingly like Kirishima taunted in his head. 

Bakugo gritted his teeth, but before he could even reprimand himself, he heard the bar door opening behind him. His hero training made him glance back, as he had every other time the door had opened, but this time, it wasn’t another smoker standing in the threshold. 

No, it was you, of course it was you, standing there like the blond’s thoughts had summoned you. Your eyes were wide in your alcohol-flushed face, and even from a distance, he could see the panic in your gaze. He expected you to turn around and retreat back inside, but you surprised him by letting the door close behind you. Then you just stood there, shifting awkwardly on your feet, like you were waiting for permission to join him. 

Unfortunately, the smokers got to you first. 

“Hey, baby, need to bum a cig?” a man with short black hair asked. He dug around in his leather jacket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes and then extended them to you, and the two other men he was with shared an excited smirk before they aimed their leers back at you. 

Bakugo immediately tensed. 

“O-Oh, no, thank you,” you stammered, fidgeting with the slim brown belt around your waist. 

“What, not your brand?” The man smirked but didn’t withdraw his hand. 

“No, I-I just don’t smoke,” you murmured. 

“Ever tried?” one of the other men asked. His buzzed hair was short against his scalp and dyed blond with patterns zigzagging through the stubble. 

“Yeah, don’t knock it till you tried it,” the third man said. He was shorter than the others, with blood red hair thrown up into a knot at the top of his head, giving him a few extra inches. 

“I have, um, back in college, but I quit.” You shifted from side to side on your feet, and Bakugo noticed you were subtly inching away from the men. 

Part of him absently wondered if you were lying or not about the smoking, but the majority of him was laser focused on the three assholes that apparently couldn’t take a fucking hint. 

“Wooow, a woman of discipline, how rare,” the first man drawled as his filthy eyes flicked up and down your body, and then he jostled the pack of cigarettes in his hand again. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” 

“I’m sure, but I appreciate the offer,” you said with a nervous smile. 

Bakugo had already turned fully to face you and the men, palms slowly starting to heat up with his quirk, but you hadn’t glanced at him at all since this interaction started. Did you not want his help? 

“Alright.” The dark-haired man shrugged and pocketed the cigarettes before taking a drag off the lit one he still held in his other hand. “You don’t have to smoke to hang with us. What’s your name? Mine’s Yoshida.” 

“Nice to meet you, Yoshida,” you said, emphasizing the -san honorific and being disgustingly, perfectly polite. “But, um, I can’t stay, I actually have to—” 

“Aww, no, come on,” the guy with the buzzcut cajoled, smiling slyly around the cigarette hanging from his lips. “Just chill with us for a bit. You’re much prettier company than Yosh, here.” 

“Shut up, Kyo,” Yoshida scoffed, but then his eyes dragged over you again, and Bakugo felt something ignite in his chest. “He’s right, though. You are very pretty. Much prettier than my last girlfriend. Sure you can’t stay?” 

“I-I’m sure.” 

“At least tell us your name before you go,” the redhead with the topknot said. Then he took a step to the side, blocking your path forward, and suddenly the three men had almost surrounded you, closing in like a pack of wild dogs. 

“I…” You faltered, panic clear on your face, before your eyes finally flicked to Bakugo’s. 

The message in them was clear. Help me. 

Bakugo crossed the patio in three long strides. 

“There a fuckin’ problem here?” he grunted as he shouldered past Topknot to stand beside and a little in front of you. 

Topknot stumbled into his friends, and the three of them teetered, off balance. It was then that Bakugo smelled the alcohol practically seeping from the bastards’ pores, and he wrinkled his nose at the stench. 

“Woah, what the fuck, dude?” The man named Yoshida righted himself first and then threw a glare at Bakugo. “You made me drop my cig.” 

“Sounds like it’s time for you to get the fuck back inside then,” Bakugo sneered. 

“Hey, we’re just talking to our new friend here, you’re the one with the problem, asshole.” Topknot puffed himself up to his full height, which still barely put him above Bakugo’s shoulder, and the blond smirked down at him maliciously. 

“The grownups are talking, why don’t you go find a booster seat and then come and find me?” he taunted. 

Topknot’s face went as red as his hair, and Bakugo let more of his quirk trickle into his hands, his fingertips starting to glow. The other two men shifted on their feet, and he saw Buzzcut dropping his cigarette butt and putting it out under his heel. All three men widened their stances like they were getting ready for a fight, and all Bakugo could think was good. 

His blood had been roiling all night. It would feel good to let off a little steam. 

“Bakugo,” you muttered in a tight voice, your hand finding his elbow, but the moment you said his name, all three men paled. 

“W-Wait…” Yoshida blinked and then squinted at the blond, trying to see through the shadows of the patio and the haze of the liquor. “Bakugo as in… Bakugo Katsuki?” 

“Holy shit,” Buzzcut breathed, eyes widening. “I thought I recognized him, but… i-it’s fucking Dynamight.” 

Bakugo bared his teeth, angry at the sudden cowardice in their gazes. “So what? Didn’t you have something to say to me a second ago?” 

Topknot sneered at the condescension in the blond’s tone and opened his mouth to retort, but Yoshida abruptly elbowed him in the gut. 

“N-No, Dynamight,” Yoshida then stuttered, bowing his head and practically simpering as he added the -sama at the end. “We apologize. We… didn’t realize she was with you.” 

“Y-Yeah, if we knew she was yours, we would have never bothered her.” Buzzcut nodded vigorously in agreement, and while Topknot continued to glower, he didn’t say anything else. 

Bakugo narrowed his eyes in a red-hot glare, but his rage was quickly being displaced by your hand tightening on his elbow and the words she and yours cycling through his head and searing through his already blazing veins. 

Still, he couldn’t let them get away without any punishment. 

Humiliation would have to do in lieu of his fists. 

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he growled. 

The men blinked in confusion before they seemed to realizing you were still standing behind him, and when Bakugo curled his upper lip and flicked his gaze to the ground, Yoshida and Buzzcut instantly dropped to their knees, yanking Topknot down with them. 

“We are deeply sorry for bothering you, ma’am,” Yoshida said with his forehead pressed to the deck of the patio. “W-We’ve maybe had too much to drink tonight.” 

Bakugo rolled his eyes at the pathetic excuse, but then you cleared your throat. 

“It’s al— I forgive you,” you amended yourself midsentence, and Bakugo could feel you shaking slightly as you pressed into his side. “But, um, next time, when a woman tells you she’s not interested, you should listen to her.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Yoshida intoned, his head still resting against the patio floor. 

A beat of awkward silence passed as Bakugo glared down at the men in contempt. 

“Well?” he finally snapped when the bastards didn’t move. “Are you waiting to be fucking dismissed?” 

The three men scrambled to their feet and shoved each other out of the way to reach the door first. Yoshida and Buzzcut practically fell into the bar, but Topknot cast one more glare over his shoulder before the door closed behind him. 

For a moment, the only sound on the patio was the whistling breeze and the murmur of music and voices from inside the bar. 

“Seem to be making this a habit, Stitches,” Bakugo finally grunted as he turned to look down at you. 

Your face was still pink—whether from adrenaline or alcohol now, he couldn’t tell— and he realized that your hair was no longer up in a bun. Instead, it hung loose around your shoulders, framing your face, and he had to fight the sudden urge to catch a lock and run it between his fingers. 

He told himself to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but his boots stayed rooted to the deck. He blamed the fact that his blood still felt more like whisky, sluggishly pumping through his blood vessels. 

“Yeah, well,” you sighed, drawing his attention. “Some men seem to take breathing as an open visitation. Hopefully, those guys will think twice about it next time, but…” 

Bakugo frowned at the resignation in your tone. “Does this shit happen to you all the time?” 

“I-I mean, not all the time,” you stuttered and averted your gaze. “I don’t go out enough for it to be a real problem. But it’s not… uncommon for a man to say something to me or brush up against me on the train.” 

The fading embers in his chest roared back to life at the thought of men accosting you regularly, and Bakugo found himself wishing he had drawn some blood from those bastards. 

“Fuckers,” he spat instead, glowering at the bar door like he could still pierce them with his gaze. 

“I-It’s fine, Bakugo. It’s really not something to get too upset over.” 

“Fuck yeah, it is.” He scowled. “You should be pissed. Assholes aren’t entitled to speak to you, let alone touch you.” 

Pot calling the kettle black, a voice whispered in his head, but this one sounded more like his own than Kirishima’s. 

“I understand what you’re saying, but if I did that, I would be pissed all the time.” You shook your head, gold earrings glinting in the string lights and distracting him for a moment. 

“So what?” he asked when he got back on track. “Then be pissed all the time.” 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but being angry for that long would just be exhausting to me.” You smiled faintly, a teasing hint to your expression. 

Bakugo huffed but couldn’t hold onto his full anger. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. My stamina must just be better than yours.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” you laughed, and it was the first time all night that he had heard the sound without a nervous undertone. 

He didn’t know what to say in the wake of his evaporating anger, didn’t know what to say with you smiling up at him while still close enough that your arm brushed his. 

“Good,” was what he settled on, and he injected as much cockiness as he could into the word in the hopes of covering up how unbalanced he suddenly felt. 

Silence settled over the pair of you again, and you shivered in the brisk wind as you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

“Well, um, I’m sorry for disturbing your peace and quiet out here,” you muttered, averting your gaze to the far railing. “I just… saw you through the door and, uh, wanted…” 

“Wanted what?” he asked when you trailed off into silence. 

“To… make sure you were alright,” you finished, and your cheeks grew a little more pink. “You, um, just seemed… upset when you left, so I wanted to… apologize.” 

“What the fuck are you apologizing for now?” Bakugo scoffed. You were seriously ridiculous with that shit. 

“I don’t know,” you muttered and dropped your gaze to your feet. “My presence? You didn’t seem… excited about the idea of me joining you guys earlier, and then I kinda felt like the others were… poking fun at you on my behalf, so… I’m sorry for ruining your night or whatever.” 

You kicked the toe of your boot into the wooden deck, scuffing the already worn brown leather. Bakugo couldn’t see your face since your were ducking your head, but he could read your cowed body language, and he was speaking before he even knew what he was going to say. 

“You didn’t ruin shit,” he muttered, but now he suddenly couldn’t look at you, so he turned to stare out toward the railing again. “Those idiots are always like that. Just don’t listen to half the shit they say. That’s what I do.” 

“Duly noted,” you said, and when he glanced back at you, he found a slight smirk tugging at your lips. 

He stared at them for a moment and recalled the dancing couple in the street, and he wondered what would happen if he pulled you in right now and— 

“Shit,” you cursed in English at a stronger gust of wind, fighting back a full body shiver. Bakugo could see goosebumps rising on your forearms, your collarbones, and he clicked his tongue. 

“Let’s get back inside before you fuckin’ freeze to death,” he muttered and stepped toward the bar door, but you caught the sleeve of his jacket and stopped him. 

“Wait,” you said, biting your lip and hesitating for a moment before you continued. “Can we just… say out here for one more minute? It’s a little cold, but it’s kind of refreshing. Plus, it’s helping me sober up.” 

“How much did you drink?” Bakugo frowned. 

“Enough.” You blushed. “What else was I supposed to do when I was suddenly meeting four of the most famous people in the country?” 

Something ugly squirmed beneath his ribcage, pushing the next words out of his mouth without his permission. 

“Don’t worry, you impressed fuckin’ Deku, so you can unclench,” he scoffed before he turned and stomped back to the patio railing. 

“Do you think?” you asked as you trailed after him, sounding so hopeful, oblivious to the way he gritted his teeth. “I just… wanted to make a good impression on your friends.” 

That gave him pause, and he stared down at you as he leaned against the railing. 

“Why?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

“Why what?” You blinked up at him, suddenly too close again as you used him as a shield against the wind. 

“You said you wanted to impress my friends, not ‘pro heroes.�� Why do you give a shit if my ‘friends’ like you?” 

“I—” Your eyes widened, cheeks darkening with a fresh blush, and you quickly averted your gaze as you started to fiddle with the pendant resting against your chest. “I just, um…” 

You trailed off, unable to come up with the words, and Bakugo felt that thing that definitely wasn’t excitement unfurl in his chest again. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Stitches.” He smirked. 

“Shut up, Dynamight,” you muttered, shooting him a glare that was more of a pout, and fuck. Fuck. 

He wanted to kiss you. He fucking admitted it. He wanted to goddamn kiss you. 

Bakugo tried to recall every reason why he shouldn’t, why he couldn’t, but his train of thought derailed and exploded when you shivered again, crossing your arms under your breasts and pushing them up as you huddled into yourself. 

“I can hear your fuckin’ teeth clacking,” he said distantly, fighting to bring his gaze up to your face. 

“S-Sorry,” you chattered. “I, um, didn’t have a jacket that went with this outfit.” 

“Tch.” Bakugo clicked his tongue and was shedding his bomber jacket in one motion. “Here, before your lips turn blue.” 

“O-Oh, no, I— ohhhhhhh,” you sighed as he stepped forward and flung the jacket over your shoulders. “That’s so warm.” 

“No, you’re just becoming hypothermic,” he grumbled, tugging his bomber more securely over you. Then he realized the two of you are standing chest to chest, with his arms basically wrapped around you. You were so small, tucked into the hollow of his torso, and he suddenly got a whiff of the shampoo in your hair, recognizing it as the one they always kept stocked at the agency. 

Something about the sight of you in his jacket, smelling like his agency, riled him up, and his eyes were drifting to your lips again. 

No, fuck. What was he doing? He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. 

He was the Number Two hero in Japan. He had his career to focus on. He still needed to usurp Deku, and that wouldn’t happen if he was distracted. Plus, as the Number Two hero, he had his fair share of enemies, and you were a goddamn seamstress, you didn’t need that kind of heat. 

Furthermore, he didn’t do relationships. As Dunceface had so gleefully pointed out, Bakugo had never had a significant other. He didn’t have the time, energy, or even the fucking motivation to try with that bullshit. He’d had several one-night stands, but that was the extent of what he wanted. 

Except, with you, it would be different. He could tell. He had thought about bedding you, just to get it out of his system, but now, after seeing how Kaminari and Sero salivated over you, the notion of letting you go after, pushing you away like he had with the others, rubbed him the wrong way. No, if he had you, he wanted you. He remembered the way Yoshida and Buzzcut had called you his, and something dark and possessive purred inside him, clawing to make those words truth. 

And Bakugo didn’t like that, didn’t like feeling out of control. He was a grown man and a goddamn pro hero. He should be in control of himself. 

So he couldn’t kiss you, no matter how much he wanted to. He needed to keep his distance, remind himself that you were just supposed to be his healer until he found a more permanent solution for his hearing. It didn’t matter how pretty you were, how interesting he found the tidbits of your life that you had shared with his friends tonight. It didn’t matter that he thought you were ridiculously stubborn, idiotically kind, and stupidly brave. 

None of it mattered because he couldn’t do this. Wasn’t doing this. You were drunk and better off without him anyway, even fucking Raccoon Eyes said so without knowing. You deserved someone nice, someone who complimented you and took you dancing in the middle of the street. Hell, from the look in Dunceface’s eyes earlier, he was already halfway in love with you, and even though he was a fucking moron, he was a good guy. He would treat you right. 

The image of Kaminari pulling you in close suddenly jumped to the forefront of Bakugo’s mind. He imagined the other blond tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like Bakugo had wanted to do on several occasions, envisioned the electric hero smiling, dipping you with a dramatic flourish, and then leaning in to kiss you… 

Black rage reared its head in Bakugo’s mind. 

No, mine, that should be me. 

Without realizing it, Bakugo had stepped even closer to you, and he only snapped back to himself when he felt your shaky breath skating across his collarbone. His red eyes flicked down to find yours, wide and shocked, and he watched as your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips. 

“Um, B-Bakugo,” you whispered, and he noticed your hands were shaking where they were clenched against your chest, cinching his jacket around your shoulders. 

That logical, practical voice was screaming in the back of his head, but it sounded distant and tiny, drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. He ignored it entirely as he reached up and finally, finally, caught a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. 

Your breath whooshed out of you all at once, and Bakugo could see your pulse stutter in the hollow of your throat. 

“Stitches,” he murmured. “Tell me to fuck off.” 

It was a last-ditch effort and a cowardly one, pawning the responsibility off on you. But the blond couldn’t even find it in himself to care as you parted your lips and met his gaze dead on. 

“What… what if I don’t want to?” you whispered, leaning into him until the two of you were sharing the same air. 

“Assholes aren’t entitled to touch you, remember?” he rasped. 

“But what if I give permission?” 

“You’re drunk.” 

“Tipsy,” you corrected in a breathless voice. “And so are you.” 

“Doesn’t make it better.” 

You frowned, and before he could stop you, you reached up and placed your hands on either side of his head. The cool, tingling sensation of your quirk rushed through him a moment later, and then clear, startling sobriety took its place. It was like he’d been dunked in the Arctic Ocean, and Bakugo inhaled sharply. 

Because now the logical side of him was loud, shouting at the forefront of his mind. Suddenly, all those reasons why he shouldn’t kiss you came roaring back, and the blond knew he needed to step away. 

But your voice made him hesitate. 

“There,” you said, still close enough that your breath brushed his chin. “Now, neither of us is drunk.” 

Yeah, that was the problem. 

Bakugo opened his mouth to say as such, but you were abruptly raising up onto your tiptoes, your lips brushing his in the most innocent peck. You dropped back onto your heels before he could even process anything, and then you blinked up at him with eyes full of hope and uncertainty. As the seconds passed, the hope started to fade, replaced by fear, and you tugged your lower lip between your teeth, worrying it until it was cherry red. 

Fuck. Bakugo felt the last of his resolve splintering into nothing, and he lifted a hand to cup your face. Your cheek was crimson but somehow cold beneath his hot palm, and it was oh so very soft. 

“You’re making a mistake, Stitches,” he warned, but before you could come back to your senses, he dove down and slanted his mouth across yours.

[niks-minion]

Bnha 303. Top three alliance

So last week I tried my hand at rambling about spoilers and it was fun. I’m gonna indulge myself some more, bc how can I not then my favorite chicken entered the Todo family chat?

Hello, dear sir, top heroes are happy to be at your service. Thanks for talking loud enough btw, very appreciated. Sorry, our third eavesdropping blonde buddy can’t join the party due to, you know, coughing blood.

Hawks: surprise Enji,Todo,Rei: wtf?

Oh well, it happens you know when you’re in a place with tons of other ppl around ya. Honestly, Shouto you should know better by this point.

Lol, why Enji reminds me of a monkey here? Nevermind. Forget it.

I’m not sorry. At all. Small details are important, or that’s I’ve been told.

Pls queen, stand up, you have nothing to apologize for. 😭

that’s the cultural difference for you. I mean if I had fucked up, my mom would have said smth like “ugh why, why this child is mine again?” Pls tell me I’m not the only one.

Also, hawks, my little bird millennial, you’re doing great with fast typing. Is there a crush course somewhere? I mean I can type without looking too but the speed is remarkable. I tip my hat.

So to all the ppl who were “ugh Hawks is an abuse apologist” may I point out that even if he seems chill, even if he said that he’s sure it’s not like that anymore, he’s still checking and asking about the scar. And I’m sorry but his eyes are saying “tell me you did it to your child and I’ll punch you”

Hawks: Oh, it was his Mom? Ok, cool. Wtf is wrong with this family.

Anyhow this mummies party gets better. 👀 Shouto saying “so close” not once but twice? How not to joke about celebrity crush here? Todo makes it impossible, I swear.

What’s he thinking on the last frame?... pls don’t tell me it’s some kind of guilt trip, bc there are too many things like that in this chapter, I don’t need one more.

YES HE IS!!!!

One, two, three: SHOUTO KUN YOURE SUPER COOL! ( he calls him by his first name👀)

Ok I need them to get along well too. Getting along with blondies is Todo special talent, like being a great hand crusher. Can Shouto go to Hawks’ agency with Toko? Pls?

Or just adopt Hawks in the family, I don’t mind.

I don’t like Keigo feeling guilty for leaving his parents. Like yeah, Shouto is a kind little soul, maybe readying himself to forgive all the shit, but Deku’s point is valid. It’s totally ok not to forgive. They were awful parents. And honestly, I don’t see how staying with them would change this fact. You were a kid damn it!

Ok so then we get a two minutes quick review of “previously in bnha” and all the clusterfuck happening in the city. Thanks, feathers.

Oh. Oh. Hawks says “I’m here” for the man who’s been his inspiration for so long. I might sob just a bit.

Ok, old man, that’s the boost you need to charge your “I’m a hero” batteries. Now wakey-wakey. It’s time to kick some asses. And maybe explain yourself to little commoners on the other side of the window.

I love Natsuo.

What, your tears must make me forgive you? Pfffffffft, yeah, no.

Thanks Hori really. That it’s not like magically everything is cool and shining, and Todo family is back together hugging his dad bc he’s sorry. Nah.

But let’s get back to business

Talk shit about Enji all you want, but the guy is smart. Not for the first time he’s connecting the dots, coming to a correct answer. (Todo’s got his theory obsession not from this branch)

AND ITS TIME for TODO TO FINALLY BE A PART OF OFA

Pls tell me I’m reading it right. Tell me it’s not only for Hawks and BJ knowledge. Come on AM, it’s time to spill the beans.

MY GREMLIN IS BAAAAAAACK, alive and kicking

Holy guacamole, Kats chill bro! Deku is not gonna say goodbye to his little coma adventure just bc you’ve managed to disturb even the neighbor building.

These three are the only smart and responsible ppl here. Thank you guys. Put this idiot to rest before he throws up his guts on the floor.

Lol.

BJ:Oh hey, great lord explosion Murder, yes I remember all this long ass crap, so you’re good? Was a little worried considering a couple of holes in your body. Bakugou: I can’t believe I was waiting for this moron to reveal my hero name.

So the new meddling duo is on the way to Deku. Who can’t answer at the moment pls, call back later.

Next time we’re gonna get the “ofa secrets reveal” while the bunch of blondies are crowding the space! I kinda don’t want tdbk to miss this party. Pls deliver a special Bakugou package to this room. Todo go visit your precious friend. If ppl can wiggle in your private mess, feel free to do the same, bro!

[unabashegirl]

Pax Romana; Part I

Author’s note: Hey everyone, here is the first part of this mini-series. I hope you like it! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN only for H. 

DISCLAIMER; I DONT KNOW ITALIAN! (only English, French and Spanish) I clearly used a translator. I am aware their translations are SHIT sometimes. Therefore I am sorry if I butcher it! I didn’t mean to!

masterlist 

----

Harry Styles, can still recall the first day he was enthralled by her conspicuous beauty. At first, he reckoned he had done the unavoidable. He had moved to Italy for the summer, and he had managed to fall in love with an Italian girl; that he had never spoken to. He had only observed her from afar — too shy to ever think of approaching her. Nonetheless, the young woman was a sight to behold.  He promised himself that he would only watch from afar. It felt forbidden and somewhat illegal. The feeling that bubbled within him was enough reason to continue his study of her.

After his first visit to Italy, he had fallen in love with the country. Hence, why he had rented out a house in a coastal town. The country’s natural and effortless beauty inspired him to write new music for his upcoming album. The beautiful sunsets, the sunny mornings, the art, and the food brought peace and tranquility to him. It was the perfect place for him to hide — for a while.  It was on one of his morning runs; he first noticed her. 

She wore a bright yellow bikini that exposed most of her olive skin to the sun rays. She sat on a striped towel that she had laid out on the hot sand.  Her hair was slicked back and wet after she had dipped in the ocean to refresh her body. 

Of course, she never caught sight of his dilated pupils or the way he had leaned forward — lured by her beauty.  Her attention was preoccupied with a hardcover of Pride and Prejudice; that she had brought along as a source of entertainment for the day.  The young woman appeared too indulged in the printed words to notice his existence. 

He watched her for a few hours. Now and then he would remind himself of the hundred reasons why he shouldn’t approach. He had even managed to take a few steps towards her. Harry eventually removed himself as soon as it became too much. He had beaten the temptation. 

The first time he spoke to her was at a local restaurant. Harry had taken himself out on a late lunch date. He had dressed up nicely and had walked to the bistro. He noticed her presence after taking his first sip out of his freshly served Chardonnay. She sat on the table across from him. This time she wasn't submerged in a book. He could finally admire her natural beauty up close. The fullness of the apples of her cheeks, her long dark eyelashes, her red-tinted lips, and of course light sunburn on her upper cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. 

A few minutes later, her order had arrived. It was ricotta and mushroom stuffed ravioli in a black truffle sauce. She was stuffing her face when they made eye contact. Harry’s lips curved upwards creating a lopsided smile as she scrambled to clean the creamy sauce off her face. He hadn't said anything to her, but she already felt embarrassed. 

”Sono deliziosa?” He had done it. He couldn’t just watch her and pray she’d take the first step. It was time to put his Italian to the test. He had been practicing his Italian and even though he already had a few weeks on the Amalfi coast; he still struggled to comprehend. Harry only hoped she would be able to understand him.

”E molto deliziosa” She smiled at him for the first time. She beamed, radiating an intoxicating wave of warmth and happiness towards him. Her lips parted open for a split second but before she could utter a word the waiter approached. 

“Hai bisogno di qualcos’ altro?”  He was asking her if she needed anything else. She understood what he was asking, but she couldn’t remember how to say cheese.

“Fuck” she said under her breath. “Queso. Fromage. Cheese” She had forgotten how to speak. All her languages had mixed in one and the wires had crossed. “How do you say it?” She whispered under her breath, her cheeks warmed in embarrassment as the waiter tried to comprehend. 

“Formaggio. Ha bisogno di formaggio parmigiano, per favore” Harry interrupted, noticing her uneasiness and her inevitable embarrassment. He knew that it wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t have been listening to the conversation, but he had to help her. 

The waiter turned his attention to the young celebrity. He was also a bit surprised that Harry had spoken for her. He had seen that Harry kept to himself. He usually attended dinner on his own and hardly even bothered to use his phone. “Inmediatamente”. 

“Thank you” She thanked Harry as soon as the waiter had left in search of the parmesan cheese that she so craved. Harry’s excessive focus on watching the server carrying out her request had prevented him from realizing that she spoke perfect English. He had to stop himself from gasping when processed her delicate voice. She had an accent. Slight. Gentle. Barely-there and it wasn’t Italian. He would later learn that her R’s made it more prominent. 

“It’s alright. It happens” She instantly recognized who he was. Her heart raced for a minute or two, but she restrained herself from making a huge scene. After all, it was Harry Styles. Whom she considered, the most stylish man of her generation. The man could wear a curtain and still pull it off. “I am Harry” He rises a bit from his seat, extending his right hand. 

“Catalina” She shakes his hand with a smile. “So, what brings you here?” Even her name was attractive — he wondered. 

“Is’not obvious?” 

“Not really. Enlighten me” The stranger gives him a small smirk while placing her napkin over her lap after crossing her legs under the table. Harry purges his lips as he uses his index finger and thumb to slightly tug on his bottom lip. 

His whole plan to stay away from her had failed. Did he regret it?. Hell no! He just hoped he had chosen wisely. 

“The art” He reveals as he watches her cut one of her ravioli before putting it in her mouth. She responds by only nodding; too indulged in the explosion of flavors within her mouth. 

“Music?” She hums as she brings the glass of wine up to her mouth. “ I thought you were more of a  dolce far niente type of man” her mouth curved into a smile. Dolce far niente means pleasant relaxation in carefree idleness. Harry instantly identified the phrase from Julia Roberts's famous movie — Eat, Pray, Love. She remembered reading somewhere that he was a rom-com fan. 

“Are you?” He shot back. There was no doubt that he was intrigued by her. 

“Si” She shrugged as she pushed around some ravioli. 

“Then we have more in common than I thought, Catalina” Her name rolled off his tongue without any strain. It was as if he had been practicing for months. She had never heard her name sound so attractively. Sure, he had an accent, but it was still beautifully pronounced. 

Harry’s order arrived moments later. He had ordered the classic spaghetti bolognese. He grabbed his fork and knife and right before digging into the plate, he looked up at her. Catalina had been watching him since silence had fallen upon them. His smirk grew into a soft chuckle as their eyes met. She giggled at him and first noticed his dimples. She now understood everyone's obsession with his smile. 

“Would you join me?” Catalina spluttered after a few minutes of mentally debating with herself. She felt her heart beating in her throat and her hands dripping with sweat as other parts of her body. It was all very hot. 

Catalina wasn’t the type of woman to initiate conversation. She rarely even texts first!. Her excuse is usually that she doesn’t want to bother or interrupt. In reality, she is scared shitless to make a fool out of herself. Therefore, she was quite surprised by herself to have asked him to have dinner together. 

Harry cocked his head with his lips pursed. To her, he looked very pensive as if he was making a big decision. She didn’t blame him. He was on vacation and the last thing he wanted was to be photographed with a random girl and for questions to be asked. Although, he had already agreed in his mind. He just couldn’t come across as desperate. Even though he was. Harry wanted to know more. 

His fingers tucked his clothed napkin into the collar of his shirt. A chuckle left his lips as he pushed his seat back and raised on his feet. He held his plate and utensils with one hand while his glass of wine with the other. 

“So, where are you from?” Harry was first to ask, as he twisted his spaghetti around his folk. Catalina leaned back on her seat, her fingers clenching around her wine glass as she finished swallowing. “I am English” he laughs as if his accent didn’t give it away. 

“Really? Bet my life you were Italian” Catalina bantered 

“What gave it away?” 

“The facial hair and the good head of locks” Harry grinned covering his face with his hands, feeling his cheeks heating up. He felt ridiculous for blushing at such a minuscule compliment. “But anyway, I was born in South America, but raised in Spain by my aunt”. She revealed playing with the small droplets around the cup of ice water that had been forgotten. 

“And what are you doing here?” 

“I study here” She had just finished her first semester. “Well not here, but in Rome. I am majoring in art history”.

The not so strangers sat for hours and indulged in one more bottle of wine. Harry encouraged her to pick but she politely refused. She said that she hadn’t spent enough time in Italy to know what was best. 

She told him about her parents. Her father had walked out on her mother after she had told him that she was expecting. Catalina also shared with him how she felt after losing her mother to cancer when she was only ten. She was quite surprised at herself. She had never shared so much with anyone. Let alone, someone she had met that same night. Harry brought her some kind of comfort that she had no idea she needed. 

Harry listened to her. She hadn’t finished speaking and answering his previous question and he already had another one formulated. He liked hearing her speak. She allowed him to pick at her brain and he liked what he saw. She was driven, independent, somewhat lonely, but incredibly smart. Catalina was also unbelievably wise for her age. 

“What about you? Is fame all you thought it would be?” Catalina asked moments after they had been kicked out of the restaurant. They eventually had to close. Harry held what was left of the bottle as they walked down the isolated streets. 

“That’s a heavily loaded question” He chuckled, “It’s way more complicated and difficult. I think I expected to never feel lonely by the continuous abundance of people around me. But in reality, sometimes it feels lonelier than when I was just Harry” Harry shrugged, masking the pain that the vulnerability that he suddenly felt.

“I get it. The screams and faces don’t match the number of people close to you” Catalina was not famous but she could understand where he was coming from. Sure, her aunt had raised her, but she had felt lonely for most of her life. Her mother's death had felt a gaping hole in her life that no one has ever been able to fulfill. 

“M’not ungrateful for my friends but I do feel lonely. I guess I haven't found what I am looking for” Harry flashed her a reassuring smile as they walked down to the main road. “Let me help yeh” He had seen her struggling to walk over the cobblestone streets. She wore low heel sandals that complemented the white satin dress that she has opted for. Unfortunately, the heels were thin enough to slip through the stones making her overly cautious where she stepped. 

Harry switched the bottle to his other hand and offered his hand for her to take. She stopped momentarily and stared at his massive hands. They were bare. His famous rings were missing as if they had gone on a vacation too. She took his hand and was slightly surprised at their softness. She had expected them to be rough but they were quite the opposite. 

“Thank you” 

“No problem” He wanted to spend more time with her. He wished that the night wasn’t ending. “I would invite you for some gelato, but it’s quite late. I doubt there is any place opened” 

“How long are you staying?” Catalina asked as she noticed them approaching the entrance of her hotel. 

“A few more weeks” the splendor of the lights of the entrance of the hotel illuminated her features. Harry couldn’t help thinking how lovely she looked. 

“I’ve had a lovely time. Will I see you tomorrow?” 

“M’not planning on goin anywhere” Catalina reached up, resting a delicate hand on his shoulder, she kissed his cheek. 

“I’ll see you around then” She gave him a little wave as she walked her way through the doors. She would later realize that she hadn’t only kissed him because it was part of her culture and tradition but because he managed to ignite a flame within her — that one had ever done before. 

[hillnerd]

Romione and... Pineapple?!

PINEAPPLE 

Hermione’s feet were aching a bit from all the walking they’d done the past few days. France had been lovely, both the Magical and Muggle side, and she was thrilled to finally have a look at Versailles. She’d read about it and seen films, but she especially enjoyed walking through the Acquisitions museum portion.

She’d shelled out quite a lot to rent a pair of headphones for an audio tour of the museum, but she quickly gave up on them. It was much more fun to listen to Ron’s take on the works, and then correct him afterwards with mock indignation.

“Charles Le Brun’s ‘Ricordi’ is NOT a painting of people smelling the artist’s fart!”

“Looks like it to me. That one in the red is right judgy about it, considering his haircut.”

“I think that’s a fur hat?”

“Blue turban guy is pointing out poor Charlie Le Brun to the bearded guy. What a snitch!”

“Noo, he’s not!” “That bloke on the left though hasn’t figured out what happened, yet. Smell hit him and his mouth was open and everything. Look at his eyes watering!”

“Stop it!” she gasped, trying to keep a peal of laughter from bouncing off the museum walls.

They passed more paintings and Ron’s interest began to dwindle as she kept stopping to read the entire description plates. He would walk ahead and report back what was worth seeing or not.

“That room’s just a bunch of vases and plates. Let’s skip it,” said Ron, interrupting her read.

“Oh no! There are some really lovely handmade objects in there!” she said, scampering across the wooden floors.

He gave a sigh and followed her in.

She had to admit, to herself at least, the china rooms weren’t as interesting as the paintings. Ron had a few loud comments about how racist some of the works were, which she agreed with, which gained them a huff from an older American couple they’d run into around the museum a few times.

“What’s with the pineapples?” asked Ron, pointing at a pair of vases.

“Oh, erm…” she found the description plate and rapidly read it. “Apparently pineapples were a sign of wealth because they were so hard to attain. People would even rent them for parties to show off.”

“They’d rent a pineapple?” Ron laughed. “Rich people are lunatics.”

“They even paid upwards of three thousand pounds to permanently buy just one pineapple.”

“What?” Ron asked, looking at the golden pineapple filigrees. “That’s, like, six hundred Galleons!”

“I can’t even imagine being that silly with money,” she said with a shake of her head. 

She went on to look about the room and read the descriptions for other interesting tidbits. A good ten minutes had passed when she realized Ron wasn’t at her side making fun of things, and instead was leaning against a wall looking strained.

“I’m sorry this is going long. We can move on to some paintings,” she offered.

“I just want to get out of here, if that’s alright.”

“Oh?” she asked, a bit thrown. He’d been lovely the entire trip, indulging her at every museum, every church, and every book shop. It was odd that he’d suddenly reached his limit now when they’d been laughing so much. “Erm, I believe I saw a good spot to Apparate to the West. There’s a little hidden alcove there.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

She was slightly disappointed, but they’d been touring Versailles for hours, so she had little room to complain. They found the alcove, placed the headphones on the floor, and Apparated with little fanfare to a small nearby village. 

Ron quickly found a cozy restaurant with the smell of fresh bread wafting around them. There were children playing in the cobbled street, a bearded old man smoking a pipe as he played chess with what looked like his grandson, and a couple of older women arguing in fast French at a small flower stand. It was picturesque and as big of a contrast from the Versailles museum as she could imagine.

They’d just begun eating some buttered bread when she finally asked what had happened at the palace.

“I expected I couldn’t get out of explaining myself,” he said as he swallowed a large chunk of bread. “It was just… We were in a palace, right? And it’s nothing but over the top frou-frou indulgent buffoonery that I could knock and make fun of because I didn’t have to think of the types of people that would have lived there, but when we got some real context on it all…”

He gave a shake of his head.

“I just couldn’t help but think about Purebloods like the Malfoys and how that’s the sort of thing they’d buy into, you know? There’d be Elves like Dobby trying to find a fucking pineapple for a party for them. And back then everyone’s getting treated like shit as these rich racist peons rent pineapples and decorate golden vases with them. It just made me feel gross thinking about it and being there. I wanted to be where there were real regular people.”

“You wanted to be somewhere like here?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile, looking around him before his brow creased with worry. “I hope I didn’t ruin things for you. We can go back if you like!”

“You never ruin things,” she said, putting her hand on his much larger freckled one. “And I like that you’d never rent a pineapple.”

“Certainly not. I’d rather rent erumpent horn like Luna had- much more interesting for a party than a ruddy pineapple.”

“And far more explosive. Actually, pineapples are a nickname for a kind of muggle explosive.”

“Muggles and their pineapples…” Ron said, giving her a smile as he took another bite of bread. “Good thing we aren’t pineapple people, eh?”

“Certainly not!” she agreed with a laugh as they enjoyed their bread and watched the real regular people around them

======================

Ok. So I’ve never been to France (some day I will go there!) and I’m not going to do the research to see what the layout of the Versailles Acquisitions museum is! (Or if it’s even a THING, ok? Or how ‘Ricordi’ is actually displayed. I KNOW NOTHING. I don’t know and it’s a frickin fanfic. So if you know the reality of it, just ignore it and enjoy the story :P

[gumnut-logic]

Preen

Okay, this is 4000 words of fluff dripping with so much sop, it is almost pure liquid. It doesn’t really go anywhere, and it refused to come to a neat ending. So yeah, FishTank with just a dash of Earth and Sky in the middle, all wrapped up in the Marks & Wings AU.

I was desperate to write some comfort and M&W is my go to for self indulgence, so that’s what we have. Blatant Virgil comfort fic :D

Many thanks to  @janetm74​ and @tsarinatorment​ for the read through and support, but I would also like to say a very big thank you to all of the Thunderfam who sent me so many kind well wishes on Monday. I’m feeling better and the writing muscles seem to be flexing okay at this point, so maybe, if you like Marks & Wings, please consider this a bit of a thank you fic. And for those of you who don’t find this AU to be your cup of tea, I hope I can write you something you like in the near future. ::hugs you all:: You are all so kind and amazing to me.

I hope you enjoy whatever this is ::extra hugs::

-o-o-o-

“Virg, let me do it?”

Virgil brushed his fingertips through the length of one of his black flight feathers. Its root twinged, both with irritation and the ache of bruising, but he found the grass seed responsible and a pair of fingernails scraped it out and dropped it onto the locker room floor.

The relief was wonderful.

Only a thousand or so more to go.

A sigh. “Do what?” He started working on the next grass seed. Honestly, grass was evil and he was ever so thankful there was very little of it on the Island.

“Preen your feathers.” Gordon was standing in his swim shorts watching Virgil poke at his wings. “I want to help.”

Another grass seed fell to the floor. “It wasn’t your fault, Fish.”

“You still saved my ass.” A hesitant and emotional breath. “I want to help you.”

Scott was usually the one who helped each brother preen. ‘Smotherhen’ was a very appropriate name when he had his feathers out. Virgil helped Scott when he had issues. But feathers were sensitive and preening a deeply personal thing, much like bathing.

And Gordon didn’t have feathers and didn’t know what it felt like.

“You know I help Allie sometimes.”

The honesty and concern in those russet eyes were ever so strong.

“Okay.”

The small smile that spread on Gordon’s face lit up his eyes.

Virgil ripped another grass seed from his plumage and bruises twinged. Ow. “Be gentle. There are a few...bruises.”

The smile disappeared. “Are you hurt?”

Virgil sighed. Gordon had managed to get all the rescuees onto the rescue rig, but an explosion had destabilised the building before he could jump off himself. The result had seen his fish brother pinwheeling towards hard concrete.

Virgil hadn’t hesitated, his wings out before thought. Launching off the rescue rig, he’d swooped through smoke and caught his little brother midair. But another explosion had thrown him off pace and the result was Virgil curled protectively around Gordon and tumbling through a field full of weeds.

And grass. So much ripe seeding grass.

So not only was he aching all over from a shitty landing that could have, but somehow didn’t, seriously broken something, his wings were also full of contaminants.

The flight home had been hell. Even hidden in his mark, they itched, irritated and tormented him.

To finally be home and able to attend to the mess was a relief in itself, but not so much as getting all those damned seeds out. If Scott had been here, there would have been a lecture, but so much help.

Eight metres of feathers was a lot to attend to.

But Scott was on Three with Alan, so it was just him and Gords, an equally caring but inexperienced brother.

Virgil stretched out his right wing. It groaned and complained, forcing a breath from him. “Just aching bruises. I’m fine, Gords. Honest. Getting these seeds out will help a lot.”

Gordon held up his hands. “Tell me what to do.”

So Virgil did. He guided his brother’s hands to a feather, pointed out the snag and showed him how to use his fingernails to brush it out, how to align the feather into its correct position, and outlined how he would wash them himself and work a light preening oil over them after his shower.

Gordon listened ever so attentively and Virgil had to admit, it was a relief to have another set of hands working through his feathers despite the ache.

Gordon, for all their brotherly ribbing, was ever so gentle when he wanted to be. Virgil had seen him caring for children and babies out in the field and he trusted him with so much. His feathers were nothing in comparison.

More grass seeds fell to the floor. They would be vacuumed up and destroyed lest they contaminate the Island which was why Virgil was doing this in the locker room rather than anywhere else. There were decontamination facilities here of multiple types.

“Sit down, Virgil. Let me do this.”

Virgil blinked. “It will get done faster if we both do it.”

“You need to rest. And don’t tell me otherwise, or I’ll grab the scanner and prove my point enough to call in Grandma.”

His shoulders dropped. “Gordon...”

“Sit down, bro.” A hand on his wing shoulder. “Please.” Gordon really knew how to throw those puppy eyes around. To top it off, Gordon grabbed an office chair and wheeled it in so Virgil didn’t have to sit on the hard bench.

The upholstery looked soft and inviting – a sign that Virgil was obviously desperate. It was only one of the many type chairs in the villa and nothing special.

He must be tired.

“Fine.” Virgil groaned as he took the chair and straddled it backwards, letting the back rest support his front while his wings had total freedom.

Gordon was right. That tumble of a landing had punched the wind out of him. It had been a shitty rescue to begin with. The fall had just topped it off.

Fortunately, Gordon was fine. Virgil had used that entire eight metres of feathers to wrap around and protect his brother, curling them up into a ball that rolled, shedding harmful momentum.

But there were scrapes and bent feathers and bruises.

So many bruises.

Virgil winced as Gordon tugged on one. “Sorry! A stubborn burr. It’s out now.”

Virgil closed his eyes. “Is fine.”

Gordon’s fingers gently moved between primaries, methodically examining and removing irritants.

It was quite nice to have someone else taking care of his feathers. Gordon’s touch caressed jangled nerves, untangled snags and lined up vanes one by one. The relief was palpable and relaxing.

Virgil sagged ever so slowly where he sat, his head falling onto his arms.

At some point he realised Gordon was humming. Just softly and a familiar tune. It took a solid few minutes for Virgil to connect the notes and come up with the composition he had created for Grandma’s last birthday.

Gordon had a good voice. He wasn’t ashamed to use it either. Unfortunately, his choice of repertoire left much to be desired. His best usually involved an ancient sea shanty, a genre his fish brother actively took an interest in. At his worst, it was something like the ‘I’m too sexy for this shirt’ song from last century.

His little brother had blown a few shirt buttons the last time he danced to that one. If he’d known that Alan would film it and send a copy to Lady Penelope, then perhaps he wouldn’t have danced so...exotically.

Alan was still suffering the fallout from that episode.

Lady P was still smiling.

Virgil couldn’t help smiling, too.

“Got something on your mind?” Gordon startled him. “When’s Tin due back?”

“Gordon...”

“What? I know you have a thing for our lovely security chief. Just asking.”

“Well, don’t.”

But even that poke in the ribs couldn’t disturb him that much. Gordon was doing a great job cleaning his feathers and Virgil lost himself in the sensation of being cared for.

Gordon must have realised that his brother had found peace because he didn’t say anything further, just hummed away as he worked.

Virgil ended up with his eyes closed, his shoulders relaxed and his wings drooping on the floor.

He was vaguely aware of Gordon sweeping up detritus and for a moment, he put enough energy in to lift his wings off the concrete properly.

“I think I’ve got most of them.” His brother brushed his fingers gently through feathers, skipping across his secondaries, up to his lesser coverts and onto the down that tracked over his shoulders and back.

Virgil shivered at his touch.

“Virg?”

He pushed himself up, staggering to his feet. “Gotta go wash.” Gordon grabbed him as he wobbled.

“You sure about that?”

“Will be more comfortable.” He had to remind himself that Gordon didn’t know. Or maybe he did. Virgil felt suddenly felt guilty for not having had such a discussion with his little brother in the past.

“I can understand that, but you’re dead on your feet.”

Virgil forced himself to stand up straighter and everything ached. He experimentally flapped his wings just a little. So much better.

But they were still dusty.

“A quick rinse and dry. That’s all.”

Gordon looked ready to go for that scanner again.

Virgil sighed, half folded his wings and headed for the specialised wet area designed for just this activity.

He closed the doors between his brother and himself.

“Virg?”

“I’m fine, Gordon. I won’t be long.” Something obviously had the fish worried. Virgil closed his eyes and let his wings droop. They were heavy.

He gave himself that moment, before shucking off his pants and throwing them in the laundry chute. Lifting his wings again, he walked to the wall, punched in a temperature and set the fine spray running.

Walking into the warm water was bliss.

He may have lost himself for a moment or two between soap and spray.

“Virg? You okay in there?”

He startled and realised he had been standing there, half asleep for he didn’t know how long.

But he was clean. Thank goodness. Soap had been applied to skin and water had washed the dust from his feathers.

This, of course, made them heavier, but only for a short time as he switched the spray off and activated the blow dry.

Warm air evaporated the moisture off his wings. He flapped them repeatedly and they complained. But the water fell and soon he was as dry as he could be.

With a sigh, he carefully folded his pinions and let them go.

As always, it was a rush of sensation as they disappeared and his centre of gravity shifted abruptly. So tired, he staggered to one knee with a groan.

So many bruises.

“Virg, goddamnit.” His brother was suddenly there.

It wasn’t a gasp. It wasn’t. Really. “You ever heard of knocking?”

Yellow light flickered over him and he groaned. “Gordon, I’m fine. Just need some sleep.” He pushed himself off the floor.

A towel was shoved into his stomach. “Put this on. We’re going to see Grandma.”

Virgil clutched at the towel. “Why?”

Gordon held up the readings on the medscanner. “You tell me.”

Virgil stared at the numbers and the diagram representing his body. “Just some bruising.” Perhaps some imbalances. Nothing sleep and a good meal couldn’t fix.

The thought of food turned his stomach over. Maybe just a drink.

“I’m fine, Gordon. Feathers were a bit messed up. Broke a couple and gained some bruises. There is nothing a simple painkiller and bed won’t fix.”

He wrapped the towel around his waist anyway and strode towards the doors.

“Virgil-“

“Gordon, please.”

“Didn’t you say you needed to oil your feathers?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I could do it for you now.”

Virgil closed his eyes again. God, he was tired. “You can help me tomorrow. Now, I’m going to bed.” He shoved the doors open further and strode through. His uniform was still on the bench, but he’d stash that tomorrow as well.

Gordon hurried to catch up with him and followed him to his rooms.

“You’re stalking me, Gords. I’m going to get weirded out.”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror yet?”

“What? Why?”

He had been about to shed the towel and don his pyjama pants, but wasn’t used to the audience.

Gordon grabbed him gently by the elbow and led him over to his full-length mirror.

His reflection looked as tired as he felt. “What is your point, Gordon?”

His brother turned him side on, the black etching of his mark wrapping around his biceps and shoulder…was mottled.

Virgil twisted further around and found his mark to be a patchwork of red and blue up and down the length of his torso.

That explained the ow.

“I would really prefer Grandma to take a look, Virgil.”

“It’s just bruising.” No matter how spectacular.

“We fell from quite a height.”

Virgil looked over at his brother. “This is not your fault, Gords. You know that. A few bruises are nothing compared to your safety.”

“But what about your safety?”

“I’m fine.”

“Then why won’t you let Grandma have a look?”

“She doesn’t need to. There is nothing to look at.”

Gordon stared at him and something flickered in his eyes. “Fine. But I want you to let your wings out before you go to bed.”

Virgil blinked. “Why?” He had just let them go and that had hurt enough.

“I want to check to make sure all the burrs are gone.”

“We’ve already done that.”

“I want to give them another look, just to make sure.”

Virgil eyed him. “There is not enough room in here.” He gestured around his bedroom.

“Then we’ll go into the living room and set up a lounger.”

“So Grandma can accidentally find me there?” Virgil frowned at his brother.

“Nooooo.”

Virgil glared at him. He was up to something, he was sure of it. But Virgil didn’t have the energy to pursue it and honestly, he did trust Gordon. He knew enough to know that feathers were no joking matter.

Ever.

Not after the incident with Scott all those years ago.

That had not been funny at all.

And there was something in his brother’s eyes. Honest concern.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Entering the living room, Virgil was surprised to find that it was evening and the sun was gilding the Island. A gentle breeze was blowing off the caldera and the birds on Mateo were warbling as they settled down for the evening.

Virgil stood on the balcony barefoot, shirtless and just let it soak in. The breeze ruffled his hair and caressed aching skin.

“Virg? Come lay down.”

He blinked and turned to find Gordon standing beside a lounger with a thick mattress and several pillows.

“Gordon, why are you doing this?”

“I want to help. You got hurt because of me. Please help me fix it, even just a little.”

“It was not your fault. Just a shitty rescue.”

“You’re in pain.”

“It’s nothing, Gords, honest.”

“Will you please just lift and lie down.” There was just a touch of warning in his little brother’s tone. Gordon had a streak of their father in him almost as much as Scott did.

Fine.

But Virgil glared anyway.

Before he could think about it too much, he hunched and lifted.

And Gordon had to catch him or he would have fallen. God, that hurt. Only bruising, but ow.

Gordon had caught him under his arms. “Virg? You with me?” Worried brown eyes peered up at him.

“I’m fine.” But it was rasped out. His wings were still folded and a mass of ache, dragging on the floor.

“C’mon, let’s get you lying down.”

Virgil grunted. The divan suddenly looked so much more inviting. The pillow was soft beneath his cheek as he finally lay down on his belly. He let out a breath and every aching muscle relaxed into the soft mattress. Where had his brother found it? It was heaven.

“Spread your wings for me, Virgil?”

He blinked, almost on the edge of sleep. “Mmm-hmm...”

“This is the last I’ll ask of you, I promise. Spread your wings and then you can sleep.”

Sleep.

Ever so stiff, his pinions ached and creaked as he unfolded and extended them out. Gentle hands caught his left wing and guided it down to a soft surface. Footsteps around him and his right wing was gently nudged to an equally soft landing.

A hand on his shoulder and a finger brushed hair out of his eyes.

Ever so quietly. “Sleep, big brother.”

Virgil let his wing shoulders relax and mumbled into his pillow.

Gordon snorted just softly and a moment later a light blanket was laid over his legs. “Your modesty is safe. Now sleep.”

Mmph.

But Gordon was running his fingers through the fine down on his shoulders and Virgil was too tired to resist.

He slipped away.

-o-o-o-

“He’s okay, Gordon.”

The voice was his beloved grandmother, whispering. “He has some bruising and a few electrolyte imbalances. He just needs rest and possibly a painkiller.”

“He won’t take them, you know that.” A shaky breath. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, honey. What about you? You took the fall as well.”

“I’m good, Grandma.”

There was silence for a moment and Virgil drifted.

“He saved me.”

“You boys have a habit of doing that.”

“Grandma...”

“You fell. Your brothers can fly. Of course they are going to catch you.”

There was a muffled sound.

“Aww, honey, come here.” Shuffled footsteps. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“He’s hurt because of me.” There was a shake to Gordon’s voice that set off alarms in Virgil’s head. His little brother was hurting.

He shifted, attempting to shrug off the fog of sleep, but a small hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He had no idea if the words were addressed to him or to his little brother, but the hand brushed gently through his shoulder down and was ever so paralysing that he lost his fight with sleep again and drifted off.

-o-o-o-

Someone was tugging gently at one of his primaries.

The tugging nudged him into awareness, but then disappeared, leaving him floating in that lazy level just below full consciousness.

Fingers were combing ever so gently through his feathers.

One by one.

He was being looked after.

He wasn’t awake enough to protest, to resist the care being given. Not awake enough to feel guilt.

But enough to just enjoy being looked after, being cared for.

Being loved in the gentlest way possible.

Fingers combed through his secondaries and he let himself fall away.

-o-o-o-

“He’s okay, Scott. Grandma has checked him over, I promise. Just a mass of bruising.” Gordon’s voice was whispering again.

“He looks awful.” Alan’s honesty bounced around Virgil’s dopey brain.

“Shh. I know. Don’t wake him.”

A flicker of yellow light and Gordon sighed. “Don’t believe me, huh?”

“I believe you. I just need to check for myself.” Scott’s deeper rumble blossomed comfort in Virgil’s heart. His big brother was home. He would look after Gordy.

Virgil relaxed just that notch further.

-o-o-o-

Time passed.

It must have, because when Virgil finally woke up everything was quiet. Slow blinking revealed very early dawn barely lighting up the hardwood floor.

Slow neurons fired and eventually gave him the information he needed. He had fallen asleep before the sun went down. Gordy.

Gordy falling.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

“Gordon’s fine, Virgil.”

The words were quiet and calm.

He was laying on his belly and the barest of movements proved his wings were still out. Looking up he caught sight of his eldest brother sitting against the glass doors that led out onto the balcony. He blinked. They were closed.

Scott put down his glass of protein shake. He was dressed in his running outfit, but by the look of it, he hadn’t been out yet.

“How are you feeling?” His brother pushed himself off the floor and took the few steps across the hardwood to crouch down beside Virgil.

How was he feeling?

He had obviously slept in the same position all night and the smallest of movements let him know all about it.

Another groan gave him away as he let his forehead drop to the pillow again.

“That bad, huh?” A hand landed on his shoulder, fingers gently nudging the fine down of his trapezius. “Can you fold your wings?”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. Scott was right. Remove the weight of his wings and then attempt the rest.

Movement hurt. The next day was always the worst. Adrenalin gone, abused muscles stiff, bruises fully realised. He grit his teeth.

But this wasn’t the first time.

He lifted his wings off the pillows Gordon had piled there for him and with a groan that crept out between his teeth, he retracted his wings, folded them, and let them go.

All the breath in his body left with a whoosh and he collapsed back into the bed and closed his eyes.

“Better?”

Virgil’s muffled expletive said everything.

Scott snorted. “Okay. Hold that thought. I’ve got just the thing.”

A breath and Virgil let himself drift.

A gentle touch to his mark startled him.

“Hey, relax. Just a little preening oil. Gordon did your wings last night. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to rub a little on sore muscles.” And with that his brother started running gentle circles all over Virgil’s back. His mark tingled at the contact, but it was safe contact, welcome brotherly care.

Care.

The scent of the bathing oil wafted past his nostrils. Scott knew from his own experience where and what hurt in this situation.

Well, not perhaps this exact situation. Virgil couldn’t recall Scott catching Gordon midair before, but there had been that incident with Allie. Their little brother terrifying them all prematurely grey.

It had been Virgil who had administered the care to Scott that day.

Fingers nudged knots and movement into his muscles. It felt good and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

“Thanks, Scott.”

His brother didn’t stop his ministrations. “Anytime, Virg, you know that.”

There was silence for a while after that, Scott methodically and medically working to rub in the liniment. Virgil knew he should move, get up, find where Gordy was…but he found himself paralysed.

Scott knew exactly what he was doing.

Caring, smotherhen, big brother…

-o-o-o-

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next he knew the sun was high in the sky.

He blinked. Everything was quiet – a very unusual situation for the comms room.

Shaking off most of the fog, he pushed himself into a sitting position and was pleasantly surprised when the pain was minimal. It still hurt, but a good percentage of the stiffness was gone. His skin was ever so soft where his big brother had rubbed in oil.

Standing up proved a little more of a challenge, but he got there and worked several of his muscles until they loosened up.

He felt surprisingly good, despite the aches.

All he needed now was coffee.

He shuffled his way across the hardwood floor in his bare feet and down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Virg! You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Virgil blinked and froze. Gordon, as usual, was far too full of energy first thing in the morning.

“Oh, hell. Coffee. You haven’t had your coffee yet. Sit down, I’ll get you some of your stim juice. Just a moment.”

Gordon started flapping around the kitchen.

Virgil stayed where he was and just stared.

What?

The smell of coffee was suddenly in the air and Virgil felt like floating on it like Pepe Le Pew on a waft of perfume.

“C’mon, Virg, sit down. Coffee’s nearly ready. Want some toast?”

Virgil was notoriously slow in the mornings, but even his morning fog brain could twig something wasn’t right. Gordon was always kind, but this?

“Gordon, what are you doing?”

“Getting you coffee. And breakfast, if you want it.”

His fish brother darted about the kitchen like a guppy swimming in caffeine.

“Gordon?”

“You want sugar?”

“Gordon.”

But his brother wasn’t stopping. With not enough brain cells to work out a different strategy, Virgil resorted to putting himself directly in his brother’s path and grabbing him. “Gordon, stop.”

“What? Why?”

Virgil sighed. It was all too much before coffee. He pulled his brother into a hug. A tight one.

“I’m okay, Gords.”

His brother’s response was muffled against Virgil’s shoulder. Gordon struggled against his hold, so Virgil let him go.

Gordon flung himself away. “Aaargh! You don’t have a shirt on, Virg. Bare skin much?” He stared at his hands. “And oily. Ergh.”

Virgil snorted. “Sorry.” He bit back a grin, but soon lost the fight and ended up chuckling at the expression on his little brother’s face.

Gordon screwed that face up in disgust. “That’s it, you can get your own coffee.”

“Will do.” He reached out and ruffled the fish’s hair.

Gordon batted him away. “Get’orff.”

Virgil sighed, smiling. “Thanks, Gords.”

The fish froze, staring. Something stirred in his eyes. “Anytime, Virg.” He swallowed. “Always.”

Virgil softened even more. “Same.”

They stared at each other a moment longer only for it to be broken by the chime of the coffee machine.

“Ooh, I dare not stand between you and your coffee.” He backed away and then around Virgil as if he was an explosive.

Virgil rolled his eyes and beelined for the coffee machine, because coffee. When he turned around, beverage of the gods in hand, Gordon was gone.

And the warmth in Virgil’s heart had nothing to do with the mug in his hand.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: You have a reason to celebrate and need a partner to do that.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex in a public place, boytoy!Bucky, casual sex, opened relationship, drinking, sorority.

A/N: Here’s one more filthy chapter for you guys. It won’t always be that way since the plot moves forward, but it will still be focused on smut for the next couple of chapters. Our reader deserves some fun before things get a bit more complicated, right? The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. Tag list for this story is closed.  

Screen after screen pops in the air in front of you as you furiously type codes and formulas on them. You’re there, you’re almost there. You’ve been working on this project for months and now it finally seems like you’re getting somewhere.

“Coffee?”

You just nod as an answer to Camilla, your partner on that project. She gets up and walks out to go get the coffee. She already told you if it was up to her, you’ve already given up. But you know you’re getting there. You haven’t stopped working ever since early hours and you’re feeling inspired and focused as ever.

When you’re satisfied with the input you add to the system which is working on the calculations, you sit back. Eyes on the screen displayed in the air. Camilla comes back with your coffees and hands one to you, fixing her eyes on the screen, too as she stands beside you.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper.

Bringing the coffee to your lips you almost choke on it when the answer you were so desperately looking for gleams on the screen.

“Holy shitballs,” you shout and swiftly gets up, letting your cup drop to the floor, splashing the liquid around.

“Oh, fuck,” Camilla gasps and you two look at each other with paired up widened eyes before letting out a cheerful scream and holding each other, jumping around as you gain the attention of the other workers from the several small offices of the Avengers/Stark Technology Department.

A clear of throat takes you and your friend out of your reverie, catching your attention. When you see Sharon Carter on your door, with a smirk on her lips, you two cease the celebration, but keep the smiles on your faces.

“Hey, Sh- Director,” you quickly correct yourself, being friends with Natasha brought you close to Sharon, too. But now she’s Director of Shield, after Nick Fury became coordinator of the Avengers, therefore you should show some respect at least at workplaces, “Remember that Shield and Avengers’ joined project? The one where we were trying to build a device that would crack alien secret services codes?”

“Yeah, sure, our tech departments have been working for months to find an algorithm.” Sharon nods.

“Well, looks like we made it.” You point at the screen right in front of you.

“What the hell?” She shoots an eyebrow high and steps into the office, eyes analyzing the screen between you two.

“We doesn’t quite cut it, Director,” Camilla says, rolling her eyes, “She worked her ass off and got to it by herself. She’s been killing it these last few days.”

You huff, shaking your head. You’ve been really inspired, indeed. And you might relate it to a certain physical activity you’ve been engaging on recently and the outrageous amount of energizing orgasms you’ve been gifted with almost daily… not a topic to be brought out now, though.  

“Ooo, someone seems extra inspired…” Sharon narrows her eyes, but you try to not indulge any possible insinuation by just ignoring the comment with a smile, “Well, that’s amazing news,” she resumes, clapping her hands once, “and it kind of leads to the subject that brought me here, would you mind excuses for a second, Camilla?” She kindly asks.

“Of course, not. I’ll be in my office.” Camilla says, not holding back from hugging you and squirming in excitement one more time before walking out the room.

“This is huge, huh?” Sharon comments, pulling up the chair you pointed for her as you sit on yours.  

“It is, can you imagine what Natasha will be able to do with it?” You grin, brushing your hands together.

“Thanks to your badass brain,” she compliments before narrowing her eyes at you again, “You have a weird happy face.”

“Well, something amazing just happened…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sharon brushes you off, “You’re killing it at your job and that’s amazing… but to be honest, I expected to still see you moping around about your break up.”

“I’m still sad about it, but work has been great, and-”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sharon interrupts with a playful snap and you frown while she crosses her arms in front of her, holding back a laugh, “I’ve been texting with Natasha, I know about you and your boytoy.”

“What the hell?” Your eyes widen as you throw your arms to the air, already feeling your cheeks warming, “She’s on a mission and you two have been talking about my… sex life?” You lean over across the table and whisper the last part.

“We can multitask,” Sharon shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Oh, wow…” you scoff, “That’s two of the greatest spies on earth right.”

“Alright,” She chuckles, unfolding her arms and leaning over the table, “As much as I want to know all about it, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Ok,” you quickly accept the change of subject for your own relief, “Why are you here for, then?”

“To tell you that Stark is a jerk,” she deadpans.

“Ok… cool,” you drag the words, side eyeing her, “And?”

“Long story short, I lost you in a chess match and now you’re the new leader of Avengers/Stark Tech Department.”

You don’t quite assimilate what she just said as you keep your questioning stare on her, not finding the link between her words and, most of all, did she just say you’ve been promoted?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head shutting your eyes for a second, finally asking for clarification after what seemed like the longest staring contest ever.

“Well,” Sharon sighs, “You know how competitive Stark and I can be and when I decided to act by ethics and told him I was considering offering you the leadership position at Shield’s tech department he decided he would do the same and dared me to a chess match, where you would be the prize.” She shrugs, “I’m sure he had some help, right Friday,” she raises her voice staring up to the air but gains plain silence as a response from the A.I, “He won and got to keep you and I got  stuck with my second option which is your ex, as you might already know.”

“Wow,” you whisper, not really sure what to say or feel, trying to process all of what you just heard.

“You’re not offended by the chess match, are you?” Sharon checks, tilting her head.

“No… I’m kinda… flattered, I guess.” You frown and Sharon gives you a satisfied smile. “But… I’m confused… That’s Stark’s job.”

“It’s your job now if you should accept it.” She grins wider, “I guess he’s been thinking about it for a while now and saw my offering as an opportunity. I know Pepper has been on his ass for him to loosen up from some responsibilities, and who better than you to take over?” She points up at the screen with your recent achievement.

You let out a breathy laugh, reality finally dawning. Not in a million years you thought that would happen but now that it is, you’re not gonna be modest, you kick ass in your job and you fucking deserve it.

“He’s on a mission with Nat and Steve now, so he asked me to come talk to you, hang on…” Sharon holdsup a finger, before grabbing a small device from her pocket, which you recognize as one of your projects. “Stark,” she says.

In a second the image of a very battered Tony surfaces on the air as the camera captures his face from under the suit.  

“Hey, Carter,” he greets with a smirk as you hear the sounds of blasts, shots and explosions. The man is in the middle of a damn battle while casually answering a call.  

“Stark,” Sharon answers just as casually, “I have her here with me, just delivered the news,” she says, turning his image to you.

“Hey, boss,” you give him a shy wave.

“Hey, kid.” He scrunches up his face, shooting a series of blasts before you listen to something exploding. “I think you’re sort of my boss now.” He focuses on you again, smirking.

“No, I’m not,” you laugh.

“No, you’re not. But, tell me, what’s your answer?”

“I take it, of course.” You decide, why in the world, wouldn’t you.

“Great. Party to celebrate when we come back. Gotta go, these damn Kree are the worst. Will not invite them.” He turns off and his image disappears from before you.

“Well, congratulations.” Sharon places the device back on her pocket, “Our departments work a lot together, so I think I win either way.”

A mix of emotions fill up your chest. You’re excited and happy and scared. Mostly excited, though…  “Holy shit,” you curse, digging your hands into your hair as a grin seems to twist your lips permanently.

“You need to celebrate…” Sharon adds, offering you a cheeky grin.

Fuck yeah, you need to celebrate. And you know exactly what, or better, who you wanna do.

~~~

“How the hell are you wet already?”

The words are spoken against your neck through licks and sucks, after Bucky’s fingers glided under your underwear and sank between your slick folds. As soon as he walked into your living room, he jumped on you with kisses and grabs, discovering you in such a state without his previous help.

Well, sort of without his help, actually. The thing is, after you got out of work that afternoon, you didn’t even need to call him or text him to propose your little celebration as you found a series of texts from “Bucky Sweet Tongue Barnes”  waiting for you. In the first, he was asking if you had any plans that night, and the others… oh, the others… the fucker described all sorts of filthy things he wanted to do with you.

After a quick answer for him to come over and a long bath, all the dirty details he used on his texts refused to leave your mind and you couldn’t help but spending the rest of the time you had alone before he arrived teasing yourself with your fingers, having all those images and flashes from your last encounters in your memory to keep you going.

“I-“ you gasp as he sucks that sensitive spot in your neck and his fingers meet your clit, “Those texts you sent me…” You tilt your head to give his lips more room, your hands roaming around the hard pattern of muscles on his back, “I-I’ve been touching myself.” You confess with the lack of pudency you’re becoming familiar with when you’re around him.

In your arms, you feel when his body freezes for a second, before he sucks harder on your neck, “Fuck… did you come today already?” He gropes your ass under your dress with the hand that isn’t in your pussy. 

Your eyelids flutter and you reach down to the front of his pants to feel the growing bulge, “Yes…”

“Goddammit, that’s hot,” he grunts, and then it all happens in a blur as he lifts you by hooking his hands under your thighs and places you seated over the dinner table.

He positions himself between your opened legs as lifting up your short dress out of his way and, while you swiftly work on the buttons and zipper of his jeans, he takes a condom out of his pockets and, after ripping the plastic off with his teeth he hands it to you.

His eyes cast down to see your fingers rolling off the latex around his rock hard cock and, as soon as you’re done and wrap your hand around him to feel his thickness, he wastes no time and pushes you backwards until your back meets the cold wood of your table. 

Acting by the frenzy that is all over his eyes, he swiftly pulls the small fabric of your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt just enough before he holds his cock and pushes himself inside you, making you cry out and your body jerk backwards. You always knew spending an exorbitant amount of money on a good table would pay off someday and you hold yourself fisting each side of the table.

He pulls your thighs up wrapping his hands on your knees, giving you no time to adjust before starting to pound into you.

You love that he fucks you like that. Hard and raw, the sting of the stretching mixed with the pleasure brought by his expert thrusts fogging your mind and his thickness and expert moves hitting sweet spots of yours, kicking the air out of your lungs. You love that in the few times you’ve been doing it in the last week, he already seems to know what you can take and always somehow goes a little further, a little different… like he knows something about yourself that you don’t, yet. That it’s the first time that you two can’t be bothered to wait and take off clothes or get to the bedroom. You love it.

It is all new to you, yes. For you sex has always been attached to some kind of affection or romantic feelings and, while that is all good and wonderful, you’re enjoying so much finding out this other side, where the only goals are to share pleasure and have fun. 

“So fucking sexy,” he groans through clenched teeth.

Your core twists in response and your cunt clenches around his cock, causing him to let out a grunt and quicken his pace even more, making it extra difficult to breathe properly. Oh, he’s found out that praise kink of yours and now he’s been using it wisely, so wisely…

He reaches over to pull down the stripe of your dress and exposes one breast. A loud moan slips out of you when he roughly kneads the soft flesh. He keeps the metal hand around one of your knees while the leg he let go in favor to give your breast some attention curls around his hips, jerking along with the punishing pace of his thrusts.

“Yeah, sweetheart, so sexy… I’ve wanted to have you like this ever since I first saw that sweet ass of yours,” he confesses right before leaning over to wrap his mouth around your nipple.

You’ve been horny the whole day waiting for the moment you would have his cock inside you just like that and the praise, as tacky as it may be, joined with the warmth of his wet tongue around your breast and the stimulation against your clit that the new position brings prompt the blast of ecstasy inside your core.

With a trembling moan, you let go the edges of the table to hold his body pressed to yours as his mouth moves from your breast to attack your neck. You roll your hips, trying to prolong the pleasure unleashed as his pace falters.

The fingers of both his hands dig into your hair, making a mess of it as he pulls out his cock almost completely before shoving it deeply and harshly one more time, grunting out his own release.  

“Fuck,” it slips from under his heavy breath before he clasps his lips on yours. The kiss is wet and sloppy and lazy as you have your legs and arms curled around his body, keeping him inside you.

Still feeling a little numb from the orgasm he just gave you – a thousand times better than the one you had given yourself- you gasp and chuckle through the kiss as he straightens up and pulls you with him. You tighten the hold of your arms and legs, as he conveniently holds you by your ass until he finds the couch and sits down with you straddling his hips. He breaks the kiss and lets his head fall on the backrest, his chest moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

You move up to let his cock slide off but he tightens the hold on your ass, keeping you in place, “Just… let me stay in a bit more, it feels so good,” he says, eyes shut, still resting his head back on the sofa.

“Alright,” you chuckle, straddling his face with your arms as you place your hands on the backrest. You find the request a bit odd but also sexy as hell. There he is, always a step ahead on what you don’t even know you think it’s hot…   

After a few more seconds, when his breath – and yours- seems to come back to normal, he straightens his head and looks down at where you still have just one breast exposed. He ticks his tongue, “Let’s not make the other one feel left out.” He pulls your other strap, letting now both of your breasts bare to him before he dips in, grabbing the up till now covered one with his lips.

You shake your head, laughing at his antics, “You seem pretty fond of them, huh?”

He lets go of the mound with a pop, looking up at you with an almost shocked expression on his face, “How could I not?” he gasps, like you’ve just offended him, “I don’t know how you see them in the mirror everyday and don’t touch yourself…” he squints at you before continuing, “You do, don’t you?”

You laugh harder, letting your head fall back and he smiles at you before going back to give your tits some attention, kissing and sucking one, then the other. Noticing that his cock never really softens completely inside you, you let him enjoy himself a bit more before speaking again, “Did you mean that?”

“What?” He leans back, looking up at you.

“You said you wanted to fuck me ever since you met me… is that serious? I didn’t even know you remembered me before we… started this.”

“First of all, I’m always serious, I never lie,” he says, adding some gravity to his tone, “Second of all, remember that night a while ago, when I chatted with you and your boyfriend at a Stark’s party and then your sexy ass talked about your work with technology with such passion… you knew exactly what you were talking about and, fuck…” he licks his lips, ”I rubbed one out for you later that night,” he smirks, clasping his hands behind his head.

Your jaw drops at the reveal before your face scrunches up, “That’s…gross?” you say the first word that comes to mind.

“But it’s true,” he shrugs, looking pretty comfortable with the confession, “and ever since I’ve been thinking about tapping that smart ass of yours.” He emphasizes his point by slapping your ass once.

Despite that and his choice of words - which makes your cheeks heat up - and your previous statement of being grossed out by the revelation, you decide you take that as kind of a compliment, which leads you to give him the news.

“You know?” you say, “I was promoted today. You just fucked the new leader of the Avengers/Stark tech department,” you grin when his practically hard cock twitches inside you.

“Wow, congratulations.” His eyes widen and he grins back at you. 

“Never thought I would meet someone with a technology kink,” you comment, laughing at his first reaction to the news.

“More of a smart as fuck brain kink, sweetheart,” he reaches behind you to slap your ass for the second time that night, making you shriek and laugh a bit harder, “Ok, we need to celebrate,” he states.

“I am celebrating,” you aim a mischievous smile at him, rolling your hips for good measure.

“Damn,” he breathes, but holds your hips still, “No, I mean, you’ve been in a relationship for ten years, tell me…” he squints at you, “When was the last time you partied your ass off?”

“Ahm…” you think hard trying to remember when it was, “College, I guess?”

“Shit…” he lowers his head before swiftly getting up, making you lunge your arms on his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back as he walks to your bedroom, “Come on, let’s freshen up. This is huge news… I’ll take you to a real party now and then we can continue our private one later,” he promises.

~~~

As soon as you walk in the rooftop bar Bucky has chosen, you already decide you did good in accepting his offer. The place is gorgeous, sporting a modern, yet cozy decoration with small tables, sofas and puffs for those who want to sit. Dazzling lights flash on the dance floor right by a huge bar and the view of the city is mesmerizing while the beat of the music reverberates through your body.

Bucky pulls you by the hand through the sea of bodies. Thank god you chose one of the fanciest dresses of your wardrobe or else you wouldn’t fit in among the beautiful people crowding the place. Every once in a while, Bucky waves and nods at someone or a group of people. You can tell he’s a regular.  

He waves more excitedly to a group of women hanging on a mezzanine, before pulling you to that direction, “Come on,” he tilts his head back towards you with a smile, “You’ll love them.”

As soon as you approach the group, he puts his arm around your shoulders and introduces you to everyone, telling you the names of each stunning woman before you, Amanda, Emma, Jada, Alice and Brianna. They all friendly greet him and you with smiles, excited hellos and hugs, welcoming you two to join them, which you do.

“You know, Y/N was promoted today,” Bucky gushes and you smile at him.

“Oh, wow,” Amanda says through the cheerful congratulating words from everyone else, “This calls for champagne.” She then whistles and makes a sign for a bartender, who in a matter of seconds sends two bottles of fancy champagne to the group. 

A few minutes after the toast, you’re drinking and chatting with those women like you’ve been best friends your whole life, especially with Amanda, who goes out of her way to make you feel included. You can see how close they all are to Bucky, like he’s one of the gang, talking about any kind of subject in front of him and vice versa. Bucky stays by your side, and only when you’re completely mingled with the group he excuses himself to go grab what he called “a real drink” at the bar.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Amanda nudges you when Bucky is at a distance he can’t hear.

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “Bucky’s a great guy.”

“She means in bed, dear,” Brianna clarifies with a giggle.

You take a look around the group to see them all giving you mischievous and knowing stares. Oh…

“Oh, did all of you…?” you point your finger at them, but you don’t have to complete the question

“More like all of this rooftop,” Brianna laughs, followed shortly by the others.  

“So, he’s amazing isn’t he?” Amanda insists, wiggling her eyebrows.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that they all seem so friendly and open minded, but something makes you blurt out, “Amazing? He’s fucking fantastic.”

They all nod and verbalize their agreement, “I tell you all something,” Jada catches your attention, “That man drinks respect women juice daily and we owe him a toast. Here’s to Bucky,” she raises her glass.

“To Bucky.” You all mimic her through laughing and make a toast to the unsuspicious man at the bar.

As the conversation moves on and they all engage in different topics your gaze wanders to where he stands, holding a glass with some liquor that looks like whiskey in hands. But he’s not alone anymore. A statuesque blond is right beside him, laughing and touching his arm. You glimpse that flirting smile of him forming on his lips.

“You don’t mind do you?” Amanda’s voice makes you turn to her, spotting a questioning look on her face, “Because if you do… Girl, run away now, Bucky isn’t right for you.” There’s no malice on her voice, just a sincere warning tone.

You seize the moment to make an honest survey through your feelings. You’ve been warned by different people, Bucky included, and if there’s anything to worry about, Amanda is right, you should run now. As you keep your eyes on the two of them by the bar, you look and look and look inside, but find nothing that could be remotely taken as jealousy or something like that. If anything, it’s kind of liberating to know that you have so much fun with him and there’s no ugly, selfish feelings pulling you back. You feel like you could encourage the blonde on the flirting, because you know how damn incredible it can be…

Who would wonder that a class A womanizer like Bucky would be the source of such sheer sorority you’ve been experiencing that night…

“No,” you turn back to Amanda, shaking your head with a satisfied smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

The night goes on and Bucky comes and goes, chatting and drinking and laughing with you and your new little group of friends, taking you to dance, but also dancing with Amanda, Emma, Alice, Jada, Brianna and some others… A number of guys also approach you, take you to dance, buy you drinks and you end up with a few new phone numbers in your contact list. You party like you haven’t in a while and like you didn’t think women your age still did, which is stupid… You’ve been so caught up in the routine of your relationship with Eddie that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world spinning out there.

An exciting and fun world.

“Hey,” the familiar voice reaches your ear and makes you smile as you’re on the dance floor with the girls. The metal hand curls around your belly and pulls you before your back brushes against his chest, “Having fun?” Bucky asks, lips on your ears.

“Yes, so much.” You tilt your head and place your hands over his while his hips sway with yours.

“Hummm,” he pulls you closer and runs the tip of his nose over the length of your neck, “I’m glad.”

“However…” you sigh, loving how his hips move in rhythm with yours, “I think I’m ready to continue our other party at home.”

“Funny,” he chuckles and his tongue darts out before he swiftly brushes it against your neck. It’s quick and very discreet, but enough to set your core into flames, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

With that, you promptly let go of him and proceed to say goodbye to the girls. They all tell their farewells and wishes to see you again soon with knowing and excited looks.

~~~

“You were right, I had so much fun.” You wrap an arm around his elbow as you walk side by side through the streets of New York. The bar isn’t that far from your condo and when he suggested a walk back home you thought it was a good idea to check on the lively corners of the city, even with the heels. Also, he offered his leather jacket against the cold, which you promptly accepted.

“Oh, yeah, nightlife in New York nowadays is something we shouldn’t take for granted,” he smiles down at you, “And yeah, you had fun alright, I know there are a few extra numbers in your phone,” he winks.

You analyze his face and when you understand there’s nothing but playful teasing behind it, you answer, “Oh, yeah, oh my God,” you shake your head, “That was unexpected but fun. I might delete them all, though, things might get complicated and I’m not looking for any kind of complications right now.”

He smiles, seemingly satisfied for you taking him out of the complicated category. “You and the girls seemed to get along real fine, too,” he comments.   

“They’re really great,” you nod, getting cozier in his arm as a gust of wind hits you, “They all think very highly of you, by the way,” you let the smirk in your lips tell him what you mean.

“I work hard for that, sweetheart.” He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You let out a laugh, “That you do.” You look up at him from under your lashes, before whispering, “I can’t wait to see you working hard.”

He halts his pace, making you abruptly stop with him. You shoot him a questioning look, as he gazes down at you, his face lightening up like the best of ideas has just crossed his mind. Without further notice he unwraps his arm from yours and takes your hand instead, pulling you with him at a faster pace as he turns on the corner, changing the course that would lead to your home.

“Hey,” you call out, as you try not to trip on your heels as he pulls you, deflecting from the other patrons and leading the way, “What the hell are you doing?”

He looks back at you with that sinful smile of his, “Don’t wanna leave you waiting.”

Something flips inside your stomach in anticipation at his statement and, as he turns around a few corners, the streets seem to get less busy. When you reach a particular spot, he checks each side, like surveying the area before pulling you to a dark alleyway you haven’t even seen before.

As soon as you out of the street he pins you against the wall and crashes his lips on yours, shoving his leg between yours to keep you in place with the help of the firm grip of his metal hand on your hips.

Like a puppet on his strings you wrap your arms around his neck and respond to the inebriant kiss immediately even if you’re still astonished by it all and when he squeezes one of your tits through the fabric of your dress and his mouth leaves your mouth to drag kisses over your neck, you tilt your head to see the light peeking from the streets, so close to where you’re both standing. 

“Bucky…” a gasp swallows your words for a second as he presses his thigh harder against your pussy, “What the hell, someone can see us,” you remind him, knowing exactly where this will lead if you don’t stop him now. You can already feel the pool of heat in your lower body as he playfully nibbles on your lower lip before going back to your neck.

“Isn’t it exciting, to think someone can spot us while I have my dick inside you.” He licks a long stripe from your neck to behind your ear.

The mention of his dick makes you let out a wanton moan, but you’re not won over yet, “It’s a fucking dark alley in the middle of the night in New York City, Bucky. We will be murdered here.”

At this, all of his enticing movements pause, and he dips his head back with an offended glare at you, “Do I have to remind you who you’re literally fucking with?” he asks, outrage all over his voice, “The Winter Fucking Soldier, White Wolf and shit… the strongest Avenger,” he chant the names and you can’t help but chuckle a bit, “Don’t worry,” leans over to resume from where he stopped, “I can fuck you and protect you at the same time.”

You need no more convincing since that’s actually damn hot and you’re more than sold to the exciting game when he flips you over and kneels down behind you. Listening to your own erratic heartbeats prompted by the electrifying danger of it all, you sprawl your hands on the wall as he sinks his hands under your dress and pulls your underwear down your legs, placing it in his pocket once you step out of it.

He bunches your dress up high enough to give him room and you shudder and sucks in a breath as he props one kiss, then another on the back of each of your thighs, “Try to be quiet…” he says, but swiftly adds, “Not too quiet, though, I love to hear you.”

With that he spreads your legs a little farther and sinks his tongue into the apex of your thighs from behind.  Your jaw drops and your knees buckle as he holds your hips still against his face. While his tongue curls around your sensitive pussy your mind blanks and you whimper, trying to suppress a moan, not forgetting you’re right in the open air of New York. Your hips roll against his face, seeking for more friction to untie the knot forming inside you.

But too soon he ceases contact and stands up. You express your disappointment with a whine, face snapping to glare at him behind you.

He’s wearing a smirk on his face as he grabs another condom from his pocket. You wonder how many he has in stash, “You wanted to come on my mouth, didn’t you?” he teases, holding the package between his teeth as he unbuckles his pants.

“Of course,” you shamelessly admit under your breath.

“I know sweetheart… But my dick is aching for you, too,” letting his pants and boxes fall along his legs, he unleashes his hard cock and proceeds on putting on the condom, throwing the plastic package aside, “I was prepping you for it,” he continues, eyes fastened on yours as he speaks, “You want it, don’t you? You want my dick? Come all over it?”

You lick your lips and your gaze falls to look at his rock hard cock, feeling your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Now that’s an offer you can’t refuse, “Yes, I wanna soak that fucking dick,” you groan, not caring how tacky all the dirty talk may be, since it all sounds sexy as fuck now, clouding all of your senses.

“Shit… take it then, sweetheart.” Guiding his cock with his hand, he pulls your hips and in one single shove he’s inside you.

You let out a silent cry and rest your cheek on your hand against the wall, as the other reaches down to your clit, to help ease down the sumptuous twists inside your core as he pounds into you.  

The sounds and lights of the cars passing by on the street right next to you reminds you how exposed you are and fuck if you’re not gonna come quicker than you ever did as Bucky holds your hips with both of his hands, moving them as fast as he pleases, thrusting them back against his cock. You can feel the fire reaching its peak inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers, breathing hard as he fucks any remaining signs of better judgement out of you and you know it won’t be long for him, either.

You let out a loud moan and it prompts him to pull you pressed against his chest and cover your mouth with his hand, “Shhh.” His hot breath coats your ear and your head falls back on his shoulder as he keeps the delicious pounding of his cock inside you with no hint of mercy.

The damn alley spins around you and you wish you weren’t wearing his leather jacket now as the beads of sweat run down your forehead.

He must’ve heard something in advance because right at that moment a group of people walk by the sidewalk, chatting and laughing. All they have to do is to glance to the side and spot you two in that interesting situation. The danger, the fact that you’re so exposed while Bucky dicks you down against the wall out in the open triggers your orgasm and you let out a strangled sound, muffed by his hand, as the shocks of pleasure washes over your body and weakens your limbs.  

“Shit,” Bucky whispers against your cheeks and his cock pulses inside you, reacting to your cunt squeezing and soaking his cock as you reach your climax.

You wanna feel that again and acting under the influence of a rush of boldness, you reach behind between the two of you and gently massages his bouncing balls. You feel the pulsating of his cock between your walls again and that cheeky move of yours makes him come undone. You only wish that the group is far enough to not hear the reckless and loud moan that slips out of his lips against your ear, his whole body tensing against yours.

As you fight to catch your breath and his hand leaves your mouth to descend to one of your breasts, a long line of courses is recited in your ear before you can feel his body finally relaxing.

Your eyes flutter shut when you sense the brush of his lips on your neck. The next words he breathes against your heated skin makes you beam, loving that he says that while his cock is still buried deep into you, like a damn reward.  

“Congratulations on your promotion, sweetheart.”

~~~

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Sunshine City: Two

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. But I do hope you guys like it. If you haven’t watched Kingsman: The Golden Circle, I would really recommend it. I’m pulling quite a bit from the movie for the first handful of chapters and I don’t want to confuse anyone. But if you have any questions, I’ll gladly answer them!

Pairing: (Eventual) Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating For This Chapter: M for Whiskey being Whiskey, inappropriate hand gestures, lusting after your boss, and some dubious consent on behalf of Clara. tldr: finger-fucking a stranger to save the world :)

Read the Prologue and Chapter One!

Louisville was a quaint city—not that she would ever say that to a local. Ginger Ale greeted her as she landed at the airport and had filled her in on the goings-on at the main headquarters and how there was a strange set of explosions in the UK that landed on their radar. After hearing about the “blue” aspect of her and Whiskey’s latest mission, Champ had requested she come down to Kentucky and brief him in person, citing his distaste for mission-brief emails. Whiskey was tasked with keeping the New York headquarters running, as he always did. The lucky bastard. But it was fine. He had nearly strangled her and she still thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever met. 

Something was clearly wrong with her and maybe some time away from his face and crooked smile would help her stop feeling like she had something clawing to get out of her chest every time he looked at her.

(It wouldn’t help. She knew that.)

Their mission in Vegas had been a success—in a strange kind of way. After the men turned blue, she and Whiskey followed them through the club and carried the mission out—with one caveat. They grabbed a vial of blood before disposing of the bodies. There had been a minor shoot out with the suppliers but it was easily handled, too. 

Ginger Ale took the vial of blood and made it a priority to test it as Capri Sun went to Champagne’s office.

“Ginger will probably be able to give us more specifics when the tests are done,” she said as she finished her spiel.

“What do you think it is? What’s your gut say, Capri Sun?”

She wiped a hand down her face and leaned against one of the chairs at the long table. “Something’s going on, Champ. People turning blue? The explosions in the UK? All of it feels…off.”

Champ opened his mouth to say something else but his personal intercom buzzed and Tequila’s voice rang out. “Champ, we’ve got some stragglers on the tour. They’re lookin’ to get inside the cask vault. British by the sounds of it.” He paused. “They’re using some tech to get through our biometric scanners.”

Cap looked at Champ to see him arch an eyebrow. “Ten bucks says they’re here for Butterfly Guy.” 

“Bring ‘em in, Tequila. Real quiet like,” Champ ordered.

“Ya got it, boss.”

As the line went dead, Champ crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at her. “The butterfly guy, huh? You reckon that’s what they’re here for?”

“Three bombings at nearly the exact same time in the UK and the next day two Brits show up here, where we’re housing a one-eyed amnesiac spy? Yeah.” She shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”

‘The Butterfly Guy,’ as he was dubbed after waking up a little less than a year ago, was a fodder for a fair bit of gossip at all of the Statesman offices. It isn’t every day that a Brit, obviously involved in intelligence in some capacity, gets shot in the head outside a zealot’s church after a spike of low wave frequencies catch Ginger’s eye. The fact that he was obsessed with butterflies just made him even more of an anomaly. Agent Seltzer thought he was some sort of double agent from MI-6. Agent Absinthe thought it was a ploy from some terrorist organization to infiltrate Statesman HQ. She didn’t really care either way.

Champ huffed with a smile. “We’ll see, Cap.”

They spoke a little more about the Vegas mission before they heard the intercom buzz again—it was Ginger, quickly relaying that the British intruders did seem to know Butterfly Guy but were here for a completely different reason…supposedly.

She turned as she heard the elevator chime on the other side of the door.  “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later, Champ.” 

“Don’t go too far, now,” he said as she started to walk away. “Whiskey’ll probably need ya when I talk to him about Vegas in a minute.”

She nodded and let herself out, dodging Tequila’s swat that he aimed at her shoulder. Tequila had been the man in the alley all those years ago. He was friendly and sweet, if not a little brash, and she considered him a friend. But the other man at Tequila’s side caught her eye. He looked her over with a critical and quizzical gaze before the Statesman agent all but shoved him into the room and the door slapped shut behind them. Her phone quickly ate all of her attention as she brought up the cameras the doggy daycare had set up throughout their shop so owners could check on their dogs. Bela was currently gnawing on a tennis ball as a golden retriever licked at his ear.

She hated leaving him alone so much. Hated it. He was such a good boy and she loved him so much that she actually asked Champ if she could bring him to Kentucky whenever she came down.

It was a firm no—apparently Tequila had accidentally let loose his fleet of basset hounds in HQ a year before she joined and Champ had to instate a no-pets policy because of the damage they caused. It was a shame, really. She thought Champ would really like Bela.

She checked her email, too, responding to Agent Grenadine’s plea for help. She was a newer agent and still needed a bit of guidance when it came to the more finite details of missions. Whiskey had slept with her within a week of Grenadine being assigned to the New York office. He never waited long, it seemed. And she didn’t really blame him—Grenadine was young and beautiful and vivacious. And always “down for a night of fun with no strings” as she had so eloquently put it. Perfectly Whiskey’s type.

And why was she thinking about that right now?

She shook off the thought and rubbed at her eyes before she pocketed her phone.

The door opened and Tequila came out with a huff.

“The Brits getting on your nerv-” The words stalled in her throat as she saw the blue crawling up his neck and across his face. It was exactly like what she had seen on the targets in Vegas. “Tequila? Oh my god.” Her hands reached out to touch him and winced as he all but crumpled into her grip. “What is happening? What did you do?”

“I-I…fuck, Cap. I don’t even know.”

Her thumbs brushed against his cheeks with a frown. “Go to Ginger. She’ll sort you out, I’m sure.”

Tequila’s smile was small. “I’ll be right as rain by tomorrow.”

Y/N nodded, not believing it, and watched him go with a sigh.

The man from earlier slipped out the door with a sigh of his own. His eyes found hers. “You Capri Sun?”

She held out a hand for him to shake. “Everybody calls me Cap. You’re Galahad or whatever?”

“Call me Eggsy,” he said as he shook her hand.

“Eggsy. Fewer syllables.” She crossed her arms over her chest as they dropped their hands. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, uh, Whiskey says you’re coming back with us. He’s sending a jet?”

She groaned.

                                                       **

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Sunny,” Whiskey said as Eggsy stepped out of his office to make a call. 

She crossed her arms with a sigh. It had been hours since they landed back in New York and she was tired. They had been formulating a plan to meet ‘Clara,’ the ex-girlfriend of some Kingsman cast-off who had ties to The Golden Circle cartel who was possibly responsible for the blue rash. Clara was all over social media with her plans to attend the Glastonbury Music Festival. The fact that there was another independent intelligence agency named Kingsman was really the least alarming information she’d learned that day—apparently there was a guy walking around with a robotic arm capable of hacking entire security systems.

She needed a nap before they loaded up to head across the ocean in an hour.

But Whiskey’s smile continued to grow and he buzzed for his assistant to, “bring him in.”

The door opened and she turned to see little Bela wiggling like crazy in the poor woman’s grasp. His entire body seemed to shake when he spotted her and happy little barks escaped him.

She quickly pulled him into her arms and let him lick all over her face. It had only been two days since she’d dropped him off at daycare but he always greeted her like she had been gone a year. “Hi baby. Hi hi hi. Yes, I missed you, too.”

Her fingers pushed through his thick fur as Bela finally settled in her grip and propped his head against her shoulder. She pressed a kiss to his one ear as she smiled. But then it dawned on her: Whiskey had definitely witnessed all of that. A giant crack in the visage she had sculpted. Fuck.

She slowly turned to face him and scowled at the shit-eating grin splitting his face. “Now, what’s a guy got to do to get a welcome like that?”

“Be a one-eared corgi,” she replied drolly.

“C’mon now, Sunny. I had to call in a big favor to have Vanessa pick him up and bring him here without you. That doggy daycare has some stringent guidelines about who can pick up a dog, by the way.” He placed his hands on his hips and they cocked to the side as they so often did. But he was still smiling. “I think I should get something.”

She sighed and Bela nosed at the underside of her jaw. “Thank you, boss. That was very kind of you.”

“And?”

“And that’s all you’re getting.” His smile fell the slightest bit and she bit back a grimace. In truth, it was the nicest thing someone had done for her in a long, long time. Letting her indulge in a little time with her dog before having to fly across the world was definitely spoiling her. And her traitorous mind had to remember how broken Whiskey had looked when he had realized he had wrapped his hands around her neck. This was probably just an I’m-sorry-I-tried-to-kill-you-while-asleep gift. But it didn’t feel like that and she really needed to stop lying to herself or get better at it. “I really do appreciate it, Whiskey. I don’t like being away from him for so long.”

“You really love the little guy, don’t’cha?” He stepped forward and let Bela sniff his fingers before petting him. Bela’s stumped tail quickly resumed its body-shaking wags when Whiskey instinctively found his soft spot. “I guess he’s cute.” The teasing lilt to his voice almost made her smile again.

“Yeah, he’s my favorite.”

“His name’s Bella? Italian for beautiful.”

“No. Like Bela Lugosi. The guy who played Dracula.”

Hearing his name, Bela licked at her face.

“Never took you for a monster movie fan,” Whiskey said, continuing to pet her dog.

“My brother loved them. Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff—if they were in the movie, he made me watch it. But this little guy didn’t look like a Boris. So, Bela it was.”

“Your brother?” Whiskey asked, trying to catch her eye bet she kept them firmly on her dog.

“Yup.” And that was all the answer she gave, her heart a little heavy already. She hoisted the corgi a little higher and Whiskey pulled his hand back. “I guess I should get him back to the daycare before we take off.”

“Vanessa can handle it.”

She nodded and walked to the door and spoke to Vanessa and pressed a series of kisses behind Bela’s ear before the assistant walked away with her dog in a careful hold. Her shoulders slumped as she watched them go. “Thanks for letting me see him. I know you think it is stupid-”

“I never said that, Sunny.”

She hummed, filing away her small bit of melancholy, and turned back to face him. “So, why’d you want me on this gig? I thought you’d be able to handle a pretty girl at a music festival on your own.”

Whiskey opened his mouth like he wanted to say something before shutting. His broad shoulders rolled. He turned back to his desk and settled into his slick black leather chair. “I don’t trust the kid.”

“Eggsy? Why?” She thought him a little cocksure—but she also dealt with Whiskey on a near-daily basis.

Whiskey shrugged. “Call it an instinct.”

She settled into the chair across from him with a frown. “And you thought bringing me along would do what exactly? Stab him in the back before he stabs you?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Maybe.” The leather of his chair creaked as it leaned forward with a smirk. “Maybe I just think you need to let loose a little and a music festival can do that.”

Rolling her eyes at her boss wasn’t really an option so she settled for blinking very slowly. “That’s kind of a waste of company funds, boss.”

“You are absolutely no fun.”

“People are dying.”

“All the more reason for you to come along.” He tilted his head to the side with another smile. “Please?”

She let out a slow breath and mulled over her options. She could call Champ and say she wanted out. It would be the first time she handed over a mission to someone else and each agent gets one pass. But then she could never get out of another one again. And it was just a music festival. Right? “Fine. But only because one of my favorite bands is playing at the festival.”

His smile grew and it twisted her stomach. She shouldn’t let him sway her this much. But the surprise (and probably illegal) visit from Bela did soften her resolve. And maybe watching him seduce someone else would actually—finally—put a stop to her silly feelings for the man. So far, she’d avoided any and all social functions that would let her see him scoping out another fling for the night. And yes, it did make her a little bit of an outcast within the social circles of Statesman. But she was only there to do a job anyway. Save the world. Pet her dog. Go to sleep when she had the chance. She didn’t need anything else.

“I’m glad you’re coming along, Sunny. I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

Dammit.

                                                     **

Finding out that Eggsy was dating a Swedish princess would have been hilarious if Whiskey hadn’t insisted on picking Eggsy up in a fucking Bronco that had the most obnoxious horn known to mankind. Eggsy helped her put the VIP band around her wrist with a small smile. He was a good kid, she decided. A little rough around the edges. Definitely cocksure. But genuine.

She tried to focus on that and not how she caught Whiskey’s eyes trailing up her thighs in the rearview mirror.

She had dressed to blend in at Glastonbury. Tiny shorts, a fringed, low-cut top, and Hunter rainboots. If it worked for Kate Moss, it worked for her.

But the heated gaze she’d caught from her boss almost made her squirm in her seat.

Thankfully, they arrived at the festival grounds without too much trouble and she focused on the passing greenery instead of the eyes she felt on her skin. They spoke about the tracker and the need for it to stick and the two men, of course, made frequent innuendos about the size of their dicks as she tried very hard not to commit murder by bludgeoning them both to death with her rain boot. The music was thumping through speakers, songs overlapping from the various stages and creating a raucous thrumming as they approached the VIP bar. She watched the various attendees pass by. It really was colorful. Some guy was wearing a pair of leather wings and drinking next to a girl in head-to-toe tie-dye.

“I say we both make an approach. Whoever gets on best, goes for it.” Whiskey said. “Sunny will make sure the target doesn’t ditch us before we can plant it.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Well, it doesn't have to be a competition, bruv. Why don't we just go up to her, shake her hand, pat her on the back. Whatever, you know. Job done.”

“The hand is not a mucus membrane, Eggsy. Neither is the back. They teach you anything at Kingsman?”

And she had to laugh at that, despite Eggsy’s absolutely offended face.

“What are you talking about?”

“We need a mucus membrane, Eggsy. Remember?” she supplied, trying to be helpful.

“Our trackers are designed to enter the bloodstream. They circulate harmlessly, providing full audio and GPS.” Whiskey’s pointer and middle finger curled and swirled as he spoke and she had to look away for a moment, knowing exactly what he was implying with that motion. Heat coiled in her stomach. Now was not the time to be thinking about getting finger-fucked by her boss. But the senior agent caught her eye anyway and winked as his fingers curled again and she would swear she could almost feel those phantom fingers. But, she set her lips into a firm line and his smile fell.

Eggsy’s jaw went to side as he mulled their words over. “Mucus membrane. That's like up the nose, isn't it? What the fuck am I gonna do? Stick my finger...” She watched as realization dawned on him. “It's not just inside the nose, is it?”

“No, Eggsy, it ain't. Fuck.” Whiskey shook his head. “All right, I'll take the first crack. Watch and learn, buddy.”

As Whiskey sauntered up to the bar, Eggsy sighed. “Is he always like this?”

She nodded, sagely. “Yes.” But her eyes quickly focused on Whiskey and listening in on their conversation. But her stomach quickly dropped as one horrible pick up line after another spilled out of his mouth. Did he really just ask her what band she was in?

Good god. How did she find this man attractive?

“Eggsy, for the love of God, please go rescue that poor girl.” She nudged him toward the bar and he all but dragged his feet with a scowl but it quickly morphed into a cocky grin when Clara spotted him.

She really thought she had saved the mission. Really. But then Eggsy was just as bad as Whiskey, it seemed, at picking up women. How did he manage to woo a Princess with those lines? It eventually devolved into both Eggsy and Whiskey passive-aggressively trying to one-up each other and Clara quickly had a hoard of drinks she didn’t want or order sitting in front of her.

She couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough at the two men peacocking in front of the poor girl and decided to salvage the mission on her own. She wedged her way between Clara and Eggsy with a sigh and ordered a water as her fingers plucked the tracker from his pocket. Her eyes slid over to Clara to see her already looking in her direction. Perfect.

                                                     **

It hadn’t taken long from the pair of men to realize they’d been all but dismissed by Sunny and Clara and they both retreated (Whiskey to the other side of the bar and Eggsy to the VIP entrance to make sure Clara didn’t leave) to spectate and make sure she didn’t blow it with Clara, too. But Whiskey knew she wouldn’t. Her records were clear. She never missed a target. He wasn’t sure what had thrown him off his game so much. Usually he’d be retreating to a shadowed hallway or an empty room by now with the target ready and wet for him.

Maybe it was the perfect set of legs he’d already spied. His Sunny always looked good. Always.

But she’d never come on a “tracking” mission with him before and he could feel her eyes on him the entire time.

Whiskey watched, a little entranced, as Sunny had the target eating out of her hand within a few moments—and then literally eating out of the her hand as Sunny pushed an ice cube between Clara’s lips with a giggle he’d never heard her make before. Her thumb dipped into Clara’s mouth with the ice and she slowly pulled it out only to lick the water from her skin with a smile.

Something definitely stirred beneath the zipper of his jeans.

Clara leaned close and let her fingers trail down Sunny’s arm as she whispered something into her ear. Sunny then bit her lip with another smile and nodded, grasping Clara’s hand in hers. Even from a distance, he could read her lips, “lead the way.” The pair of women slipped away through the crowd and Whiskey had to lean against the bar to hide what surely was the erection of his nightmares and daydreams as Eggsy walked up to him, a relieved little smile on his face. “She really saved us, mate. She’s a good one, ain’t she?” The kid settled in the empty stool beside him.

“Yeah, kid,” Whiskey muttered as he waved down the bartender. “She’s a good one.” He ordered a whiskey neat before discreetly activating and raising the volume on the earpiece so he could monitor Sunny. He knew Clara wasn’t much of a threat—not against the likes of his Sunny, anyway—but he just wanted to be sure.

The earpiece hummed for a moment and recalibrated before he caught the tail-end of some sort of whispered flirt.  “You’re so pretty for me.” There was a soft answering noise and then a shuffle, like a dress being pulled off. “So pretty.”

“God, you’re mouthy,” Clara said. “I love it.”

“Get on the bed,” Sunny said and he imagined Clara scrambling to do as she was told and then Sunny climbing over her. His mind drifted, for a moment. Was she like this with everyone she brought to bed? Sounds of some illicit act buzzed in his ears as he thought of her lips, her fingers…

“Look at you. So wet. I’ve barely touched you.” His Sunny laughed.

“Oh please,” Clara whined, high and breathy. “Please.”

Whiskey glanced at Eggsy to see him squirming in his seat. He tapped the kid on the shoulder and then snatched the earpiece right out of his ear. “The fuck?” Eggsy grumbled.

Whiskey just pocketed it and ordered another drink.

Clara was moaning now and there was a distinct wet sound that he knew all too well.

“Oh! Right there! Fuuuuuuuu-there!”

Sunny laughed again but it sounded muffled. “You almost there? Yeah, I think you are. Just about covered my hand—leaking all over me. You’ve made a mess.” Sunny sighed and the wet noise grew faster and faster. “Come on, gorgeous. You can come for me.”

The zipper of his jeans was becoming increasingly more cumbersome and he took a healthy gulp of the liquor. He shouldn’t be picturing her making those sounds. Shouldn’t be wondering what she sounded like with his fingers buried deep. Shouldn’t be thinking about what she would taste like on his tongue.

But he did. And it wasn’t the first or the last time.

Clara’s moans turned into a staccato of whimpers and groans that grew and grew until she wailed.

Sunny hummed—he could tell she was smiling. “I knew you’d be beautiful when you came.”

Clara panted and there was a soft sound of a kiss. “Your turn?”

“Mm, no. I just like seeing pretty girls come.” Another kiss. “But thanks for the offer.”

“God, you are just a walking dream, aren’t you?” Clara asked, all breathy and smitten.

Whiskey finished his drink and paid. The rest of the conversation between Clara and Sunny was a hum in his ears as he left the bar and Eggsy quickly followed.

“Think she can teach me her tricks?” He joked.

“Nah, kid. You either got it or you don’t. She just has it in spades.” He walked toward the tent but slowed to a stop just out of reach so as to not look like they were lingering. He gave it a moment, and then another. Sunny walked out of the tent with a smile and licked her fingers. Mission accomplished.

A/N: Welp. There’s that. I will try to have the next chapter up in less time than it took for this one to get published. Please tell me what you think!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @spookyold-saintjm​ @honestlystop​ @paryl​ @fioccodineveautunnale

[ubemango]

abg discourse, a side note: trappings

note 1: Yesterday, I said I would write a drabble and had no idea what I would write about. Reni and Fina gave me good suggestions and then I Did Not Follow Through. I am regretful. I apologize. Anyway, this happens between scene 3 and scene 4 in abg discourse

note 2: this AU has the potential for capital A Angst. I don’t want to be mean, so I’m promising you that no one is crying in this drabble.

note 3: “So what happens when jk and oc catch each other doing laundry at the same time and they start doing more catching up and BACKSTORY? There’s more backstory, Ella?” Good question! Here you go! Please don’t ask me if I’m writing more or else I will v*mit!

.

.

.

Jeongguk is nice enough to lend you ten bucks for your laundry card when you realize you don’t have enough funds.

“This is a trap,” you say. The loading machine eats the bill up fast.

“What, and leave you stranded out here?”

You realize it would be very embarrassing, asking him to help you lug all your wet clothes back to the apartment. “I’ll pay you back when I can.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The dismissal in his tone is hard. You grit your teeth, save your tongue from answering back. If Jeongguk is one thing, it’s that he’s kindly stubborn.

You head back to the dryer and start your load. For a second you think this warrants your leave, but Jeongguk has already stationed himself two washing machines down from where you stand. Attempts to dig up any untold stories is difficult: you’d already caught up with him at the mailboxes, ten years worth of stories and myths and oh really, I could’ve sworn he’d moved to Finland.

No, you’d said, Taehyung is very much still in the city, and he’s still just as annoying.

The sound of the drying machine is loud against Jeongguk’s humming. “Any more stories to kill time?”

“You have time?”

He points to the machine with Hajoon’s clothes swirling around. “Thirty minutes on the dot.”

Now you definitely feel trapped. He probably doesn’t mean it, though—he was just a good guy. A tempter. Your ring finger feels oddly light, looking at the silver band on his.

There is a stretch of time strung between you and him. It’s coiled with your longing, his unawareness. You have never felt as far away from him as you do now.

“You ever think so hard your head starts to itch?” You ask.

Jeongguk snorts. “Sure.”

“I’m like ninety-percent certain I’ve started to bald.”

“That’s very unfortunate.”

“I would appreciate some sympathy.”

“That is very unfortunate and I am sorry,” he says, sympathetically.

You watch your clothes tumble. Jeongguk checks his phone, types quickly, and puts it back in his pocket.

“Where’s Hajoon today?” You divert.

“Doctor’s.”

“Check-up?”

Jeongguk nods. “Ahyoung just sent me a picture of him crying because of the needles.”

“Poor baby.”

“He’ll be alright.” After a moment, he mumbles, “I have a story, to kill time.”

“Sure.”

“Hajoon is a good kid.”

“Mhm.”

“But do you know what it feels like… to have something be taken away from you?”

In an instant, you think of Ahyoung’s arm squeezing Jeongguk’s on that porch. Tight, a threat. “Yes,” you say.

“You remember I wanted to do law?”

“Of course.”

“But Ahyoung really wanted to become an RN,” he starts.

He recounts his days working for the government, helping people get their passports while Ahyoung studied for an additional two years. They’d gotten pregnant when she graduated, Hajoon both expected and a cause for bewilderment, and Jeongguk quit his job the second she’d gotten off maternity leave.

“There’s a lot of things I would do for my family.” He sighs. “But I get tired sometimes, too.”

“Doing the laundry is very tiring,” you say.

“It is.”

“You’re a good dad, Jeongguk.”

“Thank you.”

He’d never accuse his wife of deprivation, and you know better than to blame her for her indulgences. Silently, you think of all the bad and explosive words you would use to describe Ahyoung.

You also think about grabbing Jeongguk’s arm, pulling him closer to you.

What a scandal that would be. The privacy of the laundry room, with Hajoon’s clothes right there. Sharing stories under the guise of reassurance. Hugging him close to you, a proximity you have not visited in years.

You shift a little further away from him.

“Ahhh…” Jeongguk fits his hands over his face. “I probably overshared.”

“You know you can talk to me,” you remind him. That’s only partially a lie, because if he says anything more about his wife then you might actually rupture your cells through thought alone.

You don’t think you’ll ever know peace, having him around.

“I’ll stop thinking now,” he resolves. “Don’t want to lose hair like you are.”

“You can fuck off,” you say, and Jeongguk laughs, and everything seems somewhat normal again.

The laundry rattles on.

x

x

x

“You bitch, take this strand of hair off my screen right now, why are you always shedding?” Taehyung says at work the next day.

You scowl.

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Descent into Love (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

I thought I posted this a long time ago but... apparently not? Weird but... i’m gonna post this again!! Hehe... it’s perfect cuz it’s April Fools day.

And... consider THIS like a sequel to the original fic~: https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/183939426324/april-fools-and-a-red-jockstrap-kirishima-eijirou#notes

You’re a tsundere in this one again~ And... a bit of a meanie... it’s OKAY to have the reader be a meanie btw, we don’t always have to be nice XD I know I’m not that nice... I mean I’m pretty nice but I like to tease every now and then too haha...

Yes I referenced one of my favorite horror movies of all time but it’s a REALLY good movie! Genuinely scary lolol and yes the title is partially from the actual movie ‘The Descent’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSYg7Z1KS_I

BTW SORRY FOR ANY OOC-NESS!!

Featuring: Best Boy Kirishima!

Sigh

As you sat on the couch in the common room you rested your chin on your palm, sighing for the 10th time this afternoon. You were beyond bored. It was one of the few break-days and yet nothing interesting was happening, you stared at your classmates, some of them were just chatting, conversations about training, the cooler heroes or about how much stronger they had gotten. Although you only heard ‘blah blah blah’ every time one of them opened their mouths.

“Hey (Y/N)!” However, you heard one person, and just hearing his voice made you smile as you perked up from your palm with a rosey red blush blossoming on your face.

“Hee… oh Kirishima, hey there dude.” You greeted him, adoring the way he grinned at you with those shark-like teeth of his. Which you actually found really endearing, and when he began talking to you, you felt yourself getting lost in his eyes as his words trailed off as you got distracted by his cherry red orbs. They might have been red, but they were some of the prettiest, sweetest pairs of eyes you had ever seen. Kirishima was an enthusiastic and energetic guy, and yet he was so gentle too, each trait was only some of the million reasons why you loved him.

“You know Kirishima… now that I get a good look at you… I rather like your pointy teeth. I always have in fact…” You suddenly said, pointing right at his mouth as he blinked a bit and nervously grinned, feeling oddly flattered as a smidge of pink tinted his cheeks.

“Oh ya do huh? Thanks! I’ve always been a little unsure about em ya know? Not everyone finds sharp teeth very approachable.” He admitted, since despite his personality, some people have found him a little intimidating once they got a look at his teeth. However, you weren’t put off by his teeth at all. If anything, you found them cool.

“Yeah… I wish I had your teeth.” He started to blush at how much you were complimenting him, he’d never really heard this much positivity about his teeth before. “I mean, if a villain were to show up, I’d just bare those pointy things and growl at them. And when I REALLY have to play dirty, I’ll sink em into their jugulars and tear a piece of their flesh off!” You suddenly exclaimed with a slightly crazed look in your eye that made Kirishima perk up and flinch a bit, now feeling slightly dejected since you wanted teeth like his for such brutal reasons.

“Ha… you know I never even considered using my teeth as a weapon before.” He pondered, even though he wasn’t the type to play dirty at all. It wasn’t really something he considered ‘manly’, although he wouldn’t judge you for that, and in a strange way, he considered you fairly manly in your own way and he respected the hell out of you for that. Even if you kinda scared him sometimes.

“You should. If it were me, I’d go ‘Brienne of Tarth’ on a villains’ ass and tear their fucking ear off!” You added, giving Kirishima a very vivid idea of what you meant as he nervously smiled. You reminded him of Bakugou in many ways, except you were a little bit nicer and not so angry like he was.

“Wow (Y/N) I definitely never want to get on your bad side.” He said nicely, and that’s what you loved about Kirishima. He never judged you, always said something nice about you even though you were weird and just a little bit of a trouble-maker most of the time. And he never avoided your or pushed you away no matter how many times you would tease him.

“You could never get on my bad side Kiri…” You said in a softer tone, contrasting with your energetic one you used seconds ago as you blushed upon admitting that and when you saw Kirishima’s contagious smile as his blush deepened. “Awww…”

Why couldn’t this boy see that you absolutely adored him? You wondered. You were sure that the teasing and the jockstrap you gave him should have made him wonder or think that maybe you had a thing for him despite the way you played around with him. It made you pout a little bit because you really wanted to get closer to Kirishima, hug him, kiss him and hug him again til he couldn’t breathe. And maybe slap him a little bit after because he made you feel this way and it was eating you up like some sort of disgusting lovey-dovey parasite. Every time he smiled at you; you would melt a little bit every single time.

You were a human infected with this parasite people call ‘love’, it felt so gross yet so wonderful, he was so wonderful…

It was driving you mad!

But you were so mad for him…

How you hated it!

And how you loved him…

A part of you wished that this could all just be some movie, where Kirishima would be the right guy for you, and you would be the best friend and then he would fall in love with you in the end. The two of you be happily ever after or however those crappy rom-coms ended, but if it meant finally being with Kirishima you would gladly let that all happen and just be with him for the rest of your life with that lovey-dovey song playing at the end credits.

Damn you had it bad…

But at that moment it hit you. All this talk about pointy teeth combined with your raging flurry of feelings for Kirishima and thinking about movies gave you a brilliant and somewhat evil idea just to get your beloved redhead closer to you and to get back at him too for giving you this crush. A devious smile spreading across your lips that Kirishima didn’t seem to think much of. Poor sweet boy, you thought.

“Hey you know what we should do? We should watch a movie together. All together as a class.” You suddenly proposed, which kind of surprised him but just the thought of spending time with the whole class made him grin wide.

“All together? That actually WOULD be a great idea! Yeah… it’s been so busy lately, I think we could use the break. I’m up for it (Y/N)!” He gave you an energetic thumbs-up, looking like he was pretty amped for the idea. Kirishima was always one for palling around with his classmates.

“Great! Cuz I had a GREAT idea for a movie…” You smiled happily when he agreed to the idea, clapping your hands excitedly, but then you made your claps nice and loud to catch everyone’s attention.

“Everyone~! Everyone! I have an announcement and a proposal!”

“(L/N)! As the class rep making announcements is my job.” Iida reminded you, but you paid him no mind.

“Shut up Iida!” You suddenly screeched at him, ignoring the shocked, indignant look on his face as well as some of the other shocked looks from your other classmates because of how loud you could be. Iida attempted to scold you, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “We’re too busy! I say we all take a break since we got the day off, and instead of training, let’s all watch a movie together!” You quickly took on a cheerful tone, which made only the smarter ones a little wary.

“And NO! You can’t back away from this, spend some time with us! Cuz if you don’t I’m gonna kick your butt!” You then declared somewhat angrily, and of course, only Bakugou challenged you.

“Tch, forget it you pathetic excuse for a glowstick!”

“You’re just jealous cuz my light shines brighter than yo’ weak-ass explosions.” You brushed that off, and you laughed and pointed when Kirishima and Kaminari held him back from trying to attack you for the 4th time today.

“Anyhoo… I’d better see you at movie night biatch~.” You smiled smugly at the growling teen, who WANTED to just blow you up but he knew Kirishima had a thing for you. This would be the only nice thing he’d do for him for a while…

Speaking of which, Kirishima looked pretty damn happy about the idea of a movie night with the class, “So (Y/N)… what kinda movie did ya have in plan?” He asked politely, the same question everyone else had been wondering since it was your idea.

However, the others noticed your smile quickly turning into a smirk. “Let’s watch a good old-fashioned horror flick tonight… I have this one REALLY good one that I’ve been meaning to bust out to show my best friends so… yeah…” That little suggestion made a few heads turn, and a few eyes widened which made your smirk widen, especially when you saw Kirishima’s nervous look.

“A horror movie…?”

“Yeah! Nothing says togetherness like watching a movie so scary you might piss yourself and cry your fucking eyes out…” You clasped your hands together, your smirk turning darker as most of your other classmates looked hesitant, save a few who looked interested.

“That could be fun! I love scary movies! They’re so exciting don’t you guys think?!” Hagakure, your partner-in-crime had excitedly agreed with you and backed up your decision. And if she was being honest, these movies were fun for her because her invisibility allowed her to indulge in a little fun when she would prank some people when they were scared out of their wits.

“I enjoy those kind of movies. They tend to have some interesting story-lines, so I’m okay with watching a horror movie.” Tsuyu said, despite her blank expression she was up for it.

“I agree. I would watch one of those.” Tokoyami was quick to agree with her since he was very much an avid horror movie fan, befitting how much of a goth he was. “You may or may not have seen the movie I have in mind before.” You pointed out, since if there’s one thing you and Tokoyami got along with it was your fondness for horror movies.

“Surprise me.” He almost challenged you, which just made your grin grow, especially when you saw the other looks on your classmates’ faces, especially poor sweet Izuku and your dear Kirishima…

“I’m in! I ain’t afraid of no scary movie!” Kaminari claimed, since scary movies didn’t exactly bother him as much as it did for others, but not many of his classmates looked like they believed him. “Me neither!” However, he started a bit of a trend when Mina shared his sentiments, and now many of them started to feel the need to prove their bravery, and to just see how ‘scary’ this movie was…

“H-Hey now! Look if anyone’s not a fan of scary movies then maybe… you guys don’t have to watch it.” Kirishima wanted to be nice though, and make sure no one felt pressured to watch the movie, even though you could just tell what his ulterior motive was: He didn’t like scary movies.

“Heh… let em watch it Kirishima, it’ll give them a lesson in bravery… I mean… what are you really playing at bro? Are you chicken?” You smirked and crossed your arms, satisfied when Kirishima flinched at such a very ‘unmanly’ accusation.

“No! I’m no chicken! I’m just giving them a choice that’s all!”

“It’s okay if you’re chicken, I mean Tokoyami’s the bird here but I guess we just didn’t notice you wearing your chicken hat until now. Though I guess your hair looks chicken-esque enough.” You said, sadistically smirking at the poor guy, whose face was turning as red as his hair.

“H-Hey! Don’t call my hair chicken! This is peer pressure! Come on that’s such an unmanly thing to do!”

“You’re just saying that cuz you’re a big, FAT, chicken!”

“(Y/N)! This is so not cool! Stop saying that!” Kirishima’s blush darkened as you didn’t stop your taunting.

“Chicken~.” You sang-songed, poking him on the forehead to add to your teasing, even when he backed away, “Stop it!”

“Chicken!” You didn’t stop, you were loving how embarrassed he was getting when you started to poke at his hair and even pull a strand out purely for the hell of it.

“OW! I’m NOT a chicken!!” He cringed as soon as he felt that little strand plucked out as he gave you a rare look of mild annoyance which looked beautiful with his flushed cheeks. You almost felt guilty for being so mean to him, but the tsundere in you was telling you that he deserved it for making you love him so much.

But the guilt was winning as you took it down a notch, “Okay Kiri… I believe you…” Your voice softened a bit, and Kirishima wasn’t sure whether to feel comfortable or nervous since he’s learned to predict how unpredictable you could be. It didn’t help when you put your hand on his shoulder, “I suppose you’re only a chicken if you can’t fight against villains like you have… so… okay… you’re not a chicken… and you don’t HAVE to watch the movie if you don’t want to… and I’ll just make fun of you in private to the girls in the locker room.” You sounded a little bit gentle, and you smiled when you saw Kirishima perk up a bit when you took back the ‘chicken’ insult, but instantly he pouted at the last thing you said.

You always did this. But it’s not like he hated it, he actually liked the attention you gave him and you were nice to him at times, which he really liked because it proved what he thought about you. That you were actually pretty cool and that you had a heart underneath all the jokes. But, he couldn’t quite let you win, or get away with calling him chicken.

“Heh. There won’t be any need for that, I’ll prove that I’m no chicken! Scary movies are nothing! I mean… a real man isn’t afraid of a little movie… I’m man enough to watch this!” He was up for this challenge, well… not really, but he’d prove that he could be manly and take a scary movie! It was just a movie! Nothing in them were real… and he knew it!

But you couldn’t help but smirk when he was finally on board, and disregarded the fact that a few of your other classmates… particularly Izuku, Uraraka, Kouda, Jirou and Mineta weren’t really on board. And Sero and Kaminari finally succeeded in getting Bakugou to very reluctantly agree just so they would stop bugging him.

“Perfection…” You resisted the urge to do a ‘villain laugh’ as soon as it was all set in stone for tonight…

4 HOURS LATER at 7 pm…

“Okay…” You were getting the movie ready as you clicked on the remote, “I’m telling you guys right now. That this movie inspired me to pretty much NEVER go anywhere where there’s mountains in my life… after this, you’ll understand why I’m never going anywhere that’s too dark again.” You were kind of exaggerating, but at the same time you kind of meant what you were saying since… the movie kinda traumatized you when you were younger.

Only a few of your classmates took your warning seriously, but Bakugou thought you were being stupid as he scoffed. However, Kirishima sat beside him and he was already looking very nervous and appeared to believe every word you were saying…

What in the world was in this movie to make you stay away from dark places and mountains…?

“There can be revelry in the dark you know?” Tokoyami asked you, but you just chuckled a little bit, “Maybe for you… because the dark is your advantage but… I ain’t never stepping foot into a pitch black place again… not after this movie…” You gave your cryptic explanation, which did nothing to ease your more nervous friends.

“I-It’s that bad…?” Uraraka sounded concerned, and she was just as scared as Izuku and Kirishima was. While horror movies didn’t freak her out that bad, some of them still scared her. And you nodded as you turned the lights off, “Oh… it’s bad…”

Kirishima put his brave face on, even though everything you said wasn’t making him feel any less nervous, “I’m sure it’s not that bad… we can handle anything! Nothing’s too scary for heroes!” He declared optimistically, and you couldn’t help but smile, he was so sweet it was perfect that you chose this movie to scare the Mr. Bojangles out of him…

“Yeah, yeah just start the fucking thing already!” Bakugou was getting impatient though, and demanded that you start the damn thing as you scoffed and just started the movie, “All right already! Keep your panties on…” You muttered under your breath, but that didn’t escape Bakugou’s surprisingly sharp hearing.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

You had to cover your mouth to quell your snickers as Kirishima managed to calm down the blonde to get him to shut up when the movie started…

50 MINUTES LATER…

The claustrophobic setting was enough to unnerve your classmates as they watched rather intently and felt nervous for the women in the film.

Mineta at first was excited because there was mostly women in the movie, but as soon as thing were getting intense he was shaking like a leaf, and he practically fainted as soon as Holly broke her leg in a rather graphic manner.

But Aoyama actually fainted as soon as he saw Holly’s leg bone sticking out after falling and breaking it, which urged a rather frantic Iida to quickly to lie the boy down with his head on a pillow until he woke up. Similarly, Jirou had to look away as the graphic sight alone made her feel nauseous, and neither Sero or Ojiro fared much better as Sero covered his mouth and averted his gaze from the scene, and Ojiro nearly gagged the more he focused on the bone and blood…

Much to your immense amusement, even if you did feel bad for Aoyama. You certainly didn’t expect anyone to faint. Sick at best, but not enough to faint…

“Oh that’s nasty…” Kaminari didn’t feel as sick as Jirou or Ojiro did but it was clear he couldn’t look at it either, “Eek!” Mina had squealed and closed her eyes once that part came on and practically held a disgusted and mildly frightened Yaoyorozu, “I-It’s okay Ashido… it’s not real…” She tried to comfort the girl, and kind of felt really horrible for Holly even if she was just a fictional character. The injury looked horrible…

Izuku, shockingly wasn’t the most horrified since he’s suffered injuries not unlike that before, but seeing it on someone else was still alarming and frightening to look at. And Uraraka gasped and involuntarily hid her face in Izuku’s shoulder. But then they both gasped heavily at the sudden close contact and pulled away, averting each other’s gazes and blushing darkly. Beside them Todoroki didn’t seem disinterested, if anything he seemed pretty focused on the movie even if that injury was a little bit hard to look at.

“That’s inaccurate. You’re supposed to set the bone once before you splint it in place.” He stated what he knew about injuries based on his own training and what his shitty old man had taught him. “You’re never ever try to reinsert a protruding bone from an open fracture like that.” Yaoyorozu backed up his claim, which made you kinda giggle at how much these two knew.

“Heh… the least movies can do is use correct medical knowledge eh?” You wondered after listening to them, but you were distracted when you saw Kirishima shivering as he tried to not focus so much on how graphic that injury as he gulped hard and resisted any part of him that felt nauseous or sick after seeing… bone… blood… and Holly screaming when they tried to reset the bone…

He swallowed whatever was in his throat and tried rising back up, gagging quietly as you tried your hardest not to snicker at the poor thing. He was so freaked out…

And this wasn’t even the best part.

You heard a sharp gasp though from Kirishima as soon as Sarah saw some kind of creature in the cave, and he was trembling all over again. He knew what that meant, and he wasn’t looking forward to what was happening next, he knew a jump scare was coming soon.

“Y-You all saw that right…?” He asked nervously as many of his classmates made little mumbles of acknowledgement, “Who couldn’t have seen that idiot?” Bakugou rolled his eyes at how clearly scared his friend was, even if he wouldn’t admit that this movie was… surprisingly hardcore, the injury looked pretty real, so real it actually made him cringe the first time he saw it…

“Hehe… don’t worry Kirishima…” You smiled and placed your hand on the redhead’s shoulder, scooting closer to him even when he tried to stop shaking so badly and gulped hard. Was this your plan? To scare him? He was starting to wonder. He wanted to avoid watching any of the more unnerving parts, but he couldn’t since you were right next to him, and making sure he WAS watching it…

And you resisted the urge to snicker like a maniac when you saw that Kirishima wasn’t the only one trying to not watch the movie. Shoji averted his eyes every now and then whenever something disturbing showed up, he didn’t dare look at Holly’s broken leg and Satou was too frightened to eat the sweets he had in preparation for this movie. While Kouda was covering his ears and had his eyes closed as he trembled where he sat next to a rather calm, collected Tokoyami, who was clearly enthralled by the movie.

“How have I never seen this movie? The dark, suffocating atmosphere is frighteningly realistic in that setting…” He thought outloud, obviously approving of your movie choice as you giggled a little bit, “It’s different from other horror movies I’ve seen, but in a good way. It’s not cliché at all.” Tsuyu agreed with Tokoyami and looked just as interested as she did, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly. “Told ya it was good. And this ain’t even the best part.” That piqued some of your classmates interest and dread.

“W-What’s the best part…?” Kirishima asked you nervously, his form quivering as you gave him that insidious grin you were infamous for. “If I told you it’d take away from it Kiri…” You used a cutesy voice even though Kirishima knew better, especially at this moment where he figured out your evil plan…

He shouldn’t have been watching, he should have actually just said ‘no’ to this movie instead of pretending to not be scared. Even though he thought ‘what kind of man is too scared to watch a movie?’. It was conflicting and embarrassing, especially now that you were seeing him all freaked out over a little movie…

You almost felt bad when you saw how scared he was getting, but after 5 more minutes in you noticed just how dark the room was, thanks to the sun setting and making the room nearly black and only the light on the TV allowed you to see most of your classmates getting nervous as they focused on the scene involving the dead animal bones…

A wide grin found its way on your lips as the ‘best part’ came up…

At least 10 of your classmates let out shrieks of terror as soon as the ugly cave monster showed up, and a few had jumped out of their seats from fear.

“AAAAAHHH!”

“IT’S IN THE CAVE!!”

“RUN OUT OF THERE!!

“EEEEEEK!”

“WHERE’D IT GO?!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?!”

“OH SHIT!!”

You laughed outloud as your classmates all shouted almost as if they were in the movie and as if the women could actually hear them, and identified Mina and Kirishima as the loudest screamers when you saw Mina practically hiding behind the couch and Kirishima was shaking in his seat and you swore you saw tears in his eyes. The poor thing did not exactly have what you would call a manly scream and you were loving it. Sadistic as it was, you felt successful in ‘getting back at him’ for making you love him, and at the same time you felt kind of horrible…

“Are you okay…?” This time, you didn’t sound like you were teasing him, you were concerned since he looked pretty scared.

“I-I… I think I peed a little bit…” He said in a somewhat shaky voice, and you tried your hardest to not snicker in amusement as you tried to soothe his nerves and rub his back gently, “Don’t worry buddy it’s all a movie…” As much as you loved how this turned out, you were starting to feel a little worse by the moment.

“I nearly wet my pants…” Sero then spoke up as he trembled where he sat, and Kaminari promptly scooted away from him. “I guess… I wouldn’t blame you…” However, he was just as terrified as his friend was. If he were in that situation, he would have freaked out just like the women did.

But before anyone could relax, the creature showed up yet again and everyone was on edge yet again now that the monsters were there to make the movie all the more horrifying.

Aoyama finally came to from where he lied, sitting up and rubbing his head with a low groan, “W-What did I miss…?” He asked, and as soon as he saw the screen featuring Holly getting her throat torn and ripped apart, he fainted yet again much to Iida’s distress as he jumped a little bit at the scene himself.

Wow, it was that scary to everyone?

Well, Tsuyu, Tokoyami and Bakugou still looked pretty entertained. In fact, the latter was smirking and legitimately entertained as soon as Juno began fighting that ugly fucker.

Of course you expected those three to be comfortable watching a horror movie, but everyone else, especially Izuku, Uraraka and Kirishima looked like they weren’t going to get any sleep tonight. And it got worse as soon as Sarah was forced to watch the monsters eat Holly’s corpse in all it’s gory glory complete with the sickening sounds of flesh being torn and stripped by the creature’s sharp teeth.

Uraraka and Izuku practically squealed in unison as they trembled and turned away with their eyes shut, wondering why did they actually stay and watch this with everyone. Kirishima held back the scream creeping in his throat, at least until he thought bile was rising up and he gagged a little bit. You should have been amused but you weren’t…

‘Aww man… I can’t be happy when he’s like this…’

You thought guiltily as you sighed and put your hand on the redhead’s shoulder, which made him gasp sharply due to that sudden touch startling him, “(Y-Y/N…?”

“Dude… if it’s too much you don’t have to watch… I promise not to mock you behind your back if you do…” You weren’t playing or anything, and Kirishima could tell, “What…? Hehe… I-I’m all right really… it’s like you said it’s just a movie…” He nervously forced a small laugh and crooked grin, “I’m not a chicken after all…”

Kirishima claimed and tried to look brave… for about 5 seconds until he saw Sam and Rebecca get ambushed by one of the monsters in a jump scare that made him jump in his seat and let out a scream, “O-Okay fine I’m a chicken!” This time, he did turn away with his eyes downcast and looking miserable as he started mentally beating himself up and calling himself a coward for letting a little movie scare him. Part of him wanted to cry, but he refused, no way he’d look even more like a wuss in front of you. 

He was such a loser. This was so unmanly in every way possible, and on top of that you were there to see him act like such a wuss. Kirishima always knew he was a bit of a wuss when it came to these kind of things, but he thought he could brave it, he really did…

‘What have I done?! Oh Kirishima… no matter what I do I can’t shake these feelings off, and now I feel horrible!’

“Eijiro.”

Kirishima perked up as soon as he heard you say his name, and your heart was beating at what you were about to do next, but you couldn’t stand to see him like this. “C’mere you doofus…” Quietly and discreetly you placed your lips on his forehead which made him perk up and freeze, his cheeks turning as red as his hair as he stared at you wide-eyed in extreme surprise.

“W-Wha… w-wha-what… w-was…?” He didn’t mean to stutter, but he definitely did not expect you to do that as you pouted and blushed heavily. “I’m sorry okay? I didn’t think this movie would freak you out that much…” You muttered and he blushed even more, looking away in shame as you put your hand on his face to make him look at you.

“Admitting you’re chicken is manly though… don’t feel so bad just because you find it scary. I’m still afraid of the freaking dark because of this movie… the only reason I’m not scared is because I’m so close to you…” That sounded kinda sappy, but you meant what you said as you tried not to smile when you saw Kirishima’s look of surprise.

He was touched though, and felt a beam of happiness beginning to blossom in his heart as he smiled wide, “You… you mean that?” He asked somewhat bashfully, and you rolled your eyes a little bit.

“Yes you mook… I really do. And the truth is… argh… dammit… I like you stupid…!” You whispered to him as your whole face burned, and your heart beating out of your chest now that you finally admitted it. Kirishima somehow looked even more surprised, part of him always thought that maybe you had a thing for him, but now this was confirmation that you definitely did…

And he couldn’t help the grin rising on his lips as he pulled you in for a hug, smiling that smile that you fell in love with, “Hahaha! W-Wow um... I... you know I have to be honest I... I like you too (Y/N)! I think you’re pretty awesome…. And seriously manly… to be able to watch a movie like this… and for other reasons too but… yeah I… I like you too…” He blushed and sounded a little shyer when he said the ‘L’ word to you, as he truly did return your feelings and you were just… so happy…

You almost completely forgot about the movie as you smiled warmly and hugged him back. “Good… that is exactly how I feel about you too… you’re the manliest guy I’ve ever met you know that?” Deciding to go soft, you smiled when you saw his smile brightening, but before he could squeeze you affectionately, he made the mistake of looking at the movie when a loud monster screech startled him and made him and his classmates nearly all scream and he did squeeze you… out of terror and he practically clung to you like a sloth to a tree.

At first you were shocked, but then you quickly snickered at his reaction and loved how his arms felt around you as you patted him on the head, kinda stroking the spikes a little bit. “(Y/N)’s got you…” A little condescendingly you spoke to him a soft tone, which made him kinda pout as he made sure to avoid watching the scarier parts while everyone was trembling in terror.

“A-Are you okay Ashido…?” Yaoyorozu asked Mina, who nodded despite her fear, “Y-Yeah… why…?”

“W-We heard you scream just now…” Jirou replied shortly afterwards, but was surprised at Mina’s confused look, “That wasn’t me…” Mina, for once didn’t scream at that last part since she had gotten used to the atmosphere. But everyone knew what Jirou was saying, because after seeing the jump scare featuring Rebecca getting her stomach torn and eaten alive by the monsters they heard someone shriek…

Very femininely and high-pitched…

“Huh? Then who screamed? Uraraka?” Kaminari looked to see the girls, but all of them were shaking their heads because they had held their tongues to avoid embarrassing themselves. “It was very girly sounding…” Despite not getting an answer, Kaminari just snickered a bit and everyone didn’t see Todoroki staring down at his lap and silently blushing as he made sure to avoid seeing anymore of the movie.

You saw. Because it was your job to make sure everyone was watching the movie, and you didn’t expect Todoroki Shouto to scream like a little girl, or Kirishima, the love of your life to hold you so tightly as his grip on you didn’t loosen in the slightest as you held him close and practically cuddled him. 

Boy this night was turning out better than you thought…

25 MINUTES LATER…

The ending credits came on and you were a mix of amused, ecstatic and enamored as you didn’t let go of Kirishima, just in love with how soft yet firm he felt thanks to all those muscles on him that you found ridiculously attractive and tempting to just touch, and now you were feeling them up so close. It was like a muscular teddy bear you just wanted to sleep with in bed and never let go. And you had seen what he looked like under the clothes

However, his grip on you slowly loosened now that the movie was over but he still looked a little unnerved after everything he had to see.

“Soooooo… what did you guys think?!” You excitedly asked your friends and classmates, but many of them were rather… shell-shocked, with only Tokoyami, Tsuyu and Bakugou appearing the most entertained.

“That actually wasn’t a shitty movie after all.” Bakugou looked surprisingly calm as he approved of your movie choice, and you actually smiled. “Yeah I liked it a lot. It was one of the better horror movies I’ve seen in a while.” Tsuyu was next to say how much she enjoyed the movie and Tokoyami nodded besides her. “That was brilliant. I enjoyed every moment of it. I agree with Asui, it’s a lot better compared to the more modern horror movies.”

Their approval made you start to smile a little more smugly than you wanted to, “Hehe… why thanks~.” You giggled a little bit, but everyone else…

“T-That… t-hat… w-w-a-was… horrifying…” Izuku barely managed to get his words out as he and Uraraka were still trembling on the couch they were on. “I don’t want to go visit the mountains anymore…”

“I-It’s only a movie! It’s fictitious and there is no such thing as cave monsters!” Iida tried to make his friends feel better, but you just smiled at him.

“You don’t know that Iida… I mean not all caves are explored… who knows what’s in there? There just might be a cave monster somewhere around the world.” You didn’t help at all and added to the fear as many of the others started to tremble.

“She has a point…” Todoroki didn’t want to believe it, but this movie was… surprisingly and legitimately frightening. He didn’t want to imagine getting stuck in a mountain and suffocating from the lack of oxygen while something is potentially lurking in the dark.

“I-I’m sleeping with my lights on tonight…” Aoyama said what the rest of the Dekusquad was thinking, now that they had the wits scared out of them.

“Momo… can you please make me a night light…?” Mina asked Yaoyorozu because that movie seriously freaked her out, “M-Me too…?” Kaminari quickly asked right after Mina did, but the sweet Yaoyorozu did agree to make them some lights for tonight…

You didn’t know whether to be amused or kinda guilty. “Um… you don’t think this movie’s gonna scar anyone for life do you…?” You asked a shaky Kirishima, “I… I don’t think so…” He didn’t sound confident at all as you nervously smiled…

“BOO!”

Kirishima suddenly screamed and many of his classmates followed short when they heard him, and he jumped fearfully. But you had no idea who did that… at least until you heard your friend laughing.

“Hee-hee-hee! Sorry! I couldn’t really resist…” Hagakure was giggling, but nobody could see her so that definitely means she had stripped to be completely invisible. “Ahahaha! Nice one…” You approved of her little joke even when a few of your classmates were shouting at you for starting them, and Kirishima was trembling where he stood.

Smiling, you went over to him and held his hand to take him to his dorm-room, “C’mon…”

Kirishima let you lead him because he was honestly really scared now that he saw everything from that movie and some of the images and scenes weren’t going to leave his head for a while. He couldn’t stop thinking about it now… the blood, the cave-in, the monsters, the women screaming…

Even when it was time for him to go to bed he couldn’t really get them out of his head, and you knew this. So that’s why you were staying with him even when he got in his pajamas and lied in his bed, unwilling to turn the lights off and he almost freaked out when you were about to.

“Don’t!” He suddenly yelled, and you were honestly surprised…

Was he that scared?

Now you really felt bad. “Oh Kiri… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” You smiled a little sadly, turning off the light as he gasped and tried his hardest not to look so alarmed as you made your way over to him on his bed. “I’m sorry for calling you chicken…” You patted him gently on the back, and he blushed a little bit at how close you were but your comfort was making him feel a little bit better.

“Nah… it’s okay… you weren’t wrong, I should have just owned up to being a chicken…” Kirishima admitted to that, and felt bad for lying about since lying was not a manly thing to do at all. “You’re the cutest chicken ever. And besides… you’re not chicken at all where it counts.” You kissed him on the cheek, reminding him of the villains he’s fought against, and his bravery when he and Izuku went to go rescue Bakugou.

And Kirishima couldn’t help but grin shyly with a pink blush on his cheeks, “Awww… thanks!” He beamed as he actually kissed you on the forehead in return, which made you freeze and blush heavily as you let out a rather dorky, giddy little giggle…

“Uh… this might sound kinda lame but… do you mind… staying the night?” Kirishima then sounded shy upon asking you that, and you were still in a bit of shock from the kiss, but you nonetheless grinned and happily nodded. “I don’t mind at all~!” You said happily as the two of you exchanged big smiles and an equally big hug.

It took a while for him to actually go to sleep, but you were next to him in bed and the dark felt a little less scary.

You on the other hand, weren’t scared at all. You succeeded in getting the boy you loved close to you. Sure, you might have had to scare the pants off of him, but he was all yours now.

BONUS ENDING…

“Good morning cla-…”

Aizawa didn’t expect to walk into his classroom to see almost all of his students asleep on their desks. The ones who were awake looked a mix of exhausted and terrified with their eyes wide, droopy and bloodshot. And the only ones who were awake at all were you, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Tsuyu and Bakugou.

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly in irritation when he picked up on what could have happened, “That’s it… no more horror movies on a school night…”

Little did you know, Aizawa planned on finding that movie of yours and confiscating it, as to spare his students from being traumatized any further…

You wouldn’t mind. You were finally with the boy you loved.

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS TUMBLR~!!!!!! :D <3 :3 

[susoftjockau]

The Plan - Part Three (Ophelia)

Ophelia had a simple home. Well, an apartment. From what Connie could tell — through the rambles she endured and how Ophelia would stumble into the living room with a giddy languid nature — is that she stayed with her mother, kept the chores three-fourths on her, and she loved baking.

And baking was a pastime that made itself very apparent.

In the small kitchen, cornered by a bookshelf and a stack of beanbag chairs, the cabinets were filled to the brim with flour, bags, chocolate and white chip sacks, and cocoa powder en masse. The oven had trays with baking paper already in place — dabs of cookie dough, other pans filled with chocolate mix under the searing orange through the compartment window. Connie never knew someone's enthusiasm for baking could outweigh how logic for working in such a small kitchen. She noticed the surfaces, the amount of ingredients just for it, where only a few packages of vegetables, eggs, and a cheese slab made their home inside of the main contents of the apartment fridge.

How long had this been going on? Was it a passion? A hobby?

"You hanging out fine?" Ophelia, smile dazed and ready, lounged right next to her on the couch as music from her radio fizzled with pop and R&B. Both of them had their hair held up by scrunchies — a precaution, knowing how it wasn’t that tasty finding hair in one’s own baked goods "You look sore, or whacked out, or something."

The word choices put her off for a second, but she answered, "I'm okay. I'm just surprised you prepared all this just to hang out." She rubbed her neck. The preparation was an understatement. The cheerleader, while cooking, would cradle the mixing bowls like they were children, keeping everything in-check, peering at a wrinkled notepad decked with sticky notes on an open space between the utensils and ingredients; she got Connie involved from the very beginning, leaving her to help with measurements, pouring powder and sugar and cracking eggs till they covered their fingers in batter. It surprised her they could clean themselves up so well in the aftermath, but the main shocker came from the passion, the fixed wanting for it.

"Aw man, it's nothing. Well, actually, cooking's pretty gnarly stuff when you come down to measurements and everything, but I wanted to make you feel okay with me." Ophelia grinned at her, flexing her bicep a bit — she didn’t know why. "Cause when you think of cheerleaders, what do you see?”

Connie blinked at that. “Well, I’d expect them to be talkative and charismatic.”

“But have you seen those old flicks where they were seen as bimbos or the cruelest sons of bitches in the world?”

“Erm.”

“Heathers. Mean Girls. Glee. Bring It On. Romy and Michele’s Highschool Reunion. Pretty in Pink. Always perceived as the promiscuous bunch, the mean ones, the rowdy socialites?”

She pressed her lips. She did see those stereotypes before. In fact, she still saw the cheerleaders in that way; it wasn’t out of malice, but it was hard to relate to a talkative bunch of people like them without drowning somehow. “Yeah.”

Ophelia nodded to herself, clicking her tongue. “People always see cheerleaders as preppy mall types, so I wanted to ease you out of that with something nice, so why not baking? It’s something that I’m into, no doubt, but isn’t it just nice to focus on an activity where you’re busy and the only goal was to just chow down or be satisfied — to be happy with one’s progress rather than speak much and make it a lil’ awkward?” Eye contact. “Ya’ feel me?”

She had a point. It definitely did get her to ease up over this whole ordeal, especially at the waft of chocolate and vanilla. It had a quality, charming overall, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was the ease of something calming and focus-oriented? Something she could just work on without allowing her brain to focus so much on something that could leave her anxious and terrified? It probably was that. Maybe. "Well, I had fun with it," she couldn't help a smile, just a small one. "I haven't done baking in a long time so it’s a nice recap."

"Then when the oven’s finished, feel free to chow down on the grindage." She leaned more into the cushions, the smell of old wood and flour becoming a bit more intoxicating — a dance of two worlds, of homely delight. "We deserve a good day's work."

It took hours of batter creation, but it was worth it. "All right, I will." But there was a question on her mind. Before they started their entire process, she always wondered why they didn't touch the brownies under the baking paper — the one that laid aside from the rest, the wafting of a keen smell that made her lick her lips at the thought. It was the usual smell of chocolate, but with a specific drift in it that left her intrigued over why such a platter was left alone. "But why didn't we just eat the ones you'd left alone?"

Ophelia looked at her. "What?"

"The ones near the microwave. Were they for your mother or?"

"Oh, don't eat those."

"Why not?"

"They're edibles."

"Oh."

Well, that explained everything. However, the fact that Ophelia indulged in that type of drug wasn't something that made her feel...quite reassured, to be frank.

"It's not like I take this stuff like it's crack or something," the cheerleader piped up, voice going a tad higher. She looked relaxed before but now there's a wearing plagueness — probably from her own reaction, which didn't help the sliver of guilt. "I only take it when I have to relax. If I can give you the skinny about this whole deal, I just take CBD if the stress spikes; recreation is just that, keep a schedule on me so I don't just," she made a hand motion, a little explosion (sound effect included), "get into the weird statistics people like to harp about."

“Oh.” Statistics. The type schools would always harp about over the safety of ‘the youth’, even if they go a blind eye to many other things and become hypocritical of their own stances. “You won’t be part of it.”

Ophelia hummed. She left her body reclined, eyes closed to the world — a little beat in her shoes still there with its small rocking back and forth, pressing against the coffee table. “I keep myself healthy. I know the risks, it’s not like I’m an idiot. So I’m glad ya’ think so too.”

There was still uncertainty, but yet, there was the question of how far Connie could question this. Ophelia was responsible; Steven kept telling her back at the taco truck that she was a tank; always exercised on the daily and kept her own visual schedule to make sure her habits were intact rather than crumbling from lack of strong will. She saw the workout cords up on the walls, the dumbbells at the door. She couldn't just notch her as someone who didn't know what she was doing. It felt unfair to peg her like that at all. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve never considered that, I’m just—”

“Not use to recreation?”

Connie gazed at her. Then gave a relieved sigh. “Yeah, I’ve never had the opportunity to take these types of drugs. Never had someone tell me that they used it before, edible or otherwise.”

“And, don’t want to assume much,” Ophelia asked, “but you’re thinking I’m going to peer-pressure you too, huh?”

Silence. Then a nod.

“Well, no worries on my end, Constance.”

“It’s Connie.”

“Connie.” She coughed to herself, giving a nervous chuckle. Ophelia looked more relaxed, however, something Connie could look at as a good thing, better than just awkward chit-chat on a couch with nothing really that simple to fawn over. “I only give the edibles to people who want to go to the max on this stuff, and that’s that. I’m not going to be that weird guy who forces it at a dead-end party, basically any PSA villain that’s falling off the deep-end; it’s all up to the person and nothing else.” Her voice softened more, almost motherly in its tone. “The people who’ve done this do it than just for pleasure, sometimes it’s hard to cope with the fact we have tuition up the wazoo and sometimes we can’t handle the anxiety of problems we can’t handle. I could go on and on, but who needs a lil’ preaching in this day and age? Not me, even if it’s fun.”

She could finally feel herself calm down, relaxing into the cushions like a weight had been pulled. Ophelia wasn’t going to do anything wrong. She harbored a soft personality; she wasn’t going to coerce her or be intimidating about the whole thing. She was just Ophelia, and Connie was Connie. She didn’t have to be weird about it anymore. “Thank you.”

The cheerleader raised an eyebrow. “Why are ya’ thanking me?”

“For...educating me.” It was a simple answer. Nothing else had to be said.

Ophelia rang up in a giggle, eyes cracking open from their rest. “No problem.”

A ding went off. After a moment, both of them turned and peered at the kitchen entrance — the smell of chocolate so thick in presence, enough to overwhelm and please the senses. "Welp, the brownies are done." She stood up, bringing out a hand to her. "Ready to get stuffed?"

Connie smiled up at her finally. She grabbed her hand, allowing herself to be pulled up onto her feet. "I’d love to."

And maybe she could bring some courage to try out the edibles. But for now, she was okay as is.

- @morkthebork

[marsupials-of-mars]

Don't know it I've posted this before but it's one I found in my old phone, apparently written before svs

~~~

Deceit rubbed his scales. They were burning slightly, as they did when he was newly shed. He sneered. Shedding. It was disgusting. Strings of snakeskin clung in clumps to the walls of his stone room making it grosser than it was already. At least he wasn’t nearly blind in one eye anymore from the cloudy layer of dead cells. His scales were tender and any form of friction felt like rubbing on sunburn. He spread ointment over his face and hips, soothing the burn slightly. He hated his scales. More than anything. They caused him problem after problem, but overall they were disgusting. They were hard and cold to the touch, and made him look just like the monster he made himself out to be. There was a knock at the door.

“Dee? Dinnertime kiddo!” Deceit sighed. Patton was kind to him, but he knew it was only out of his nature. And pity. Fear or pity was the only way he got any sort of care. He hated dinner, especially considering he only ate once weekly and every other time he was sat awkwardly with the others, trying to disappear. But Patton wanted him to be included, and no matter how evil nobody would dare hurt Patton’s feelings. He shoved himself out of bed and pulled the bun out of his hair, ruffling it up and combing it back. He pulled on his shirt and jacket and opened the door.

Patton grinned and grabbed his hand. “I made steak and potatoes, your favorite!” Deceit sighed.

“I already ate Monday.” This was a lie, of course, but he didn’t feel like eating. He’d lost his appetite.

"Aw... can’t you eat a little more? I’m sorry, I should have remembered...” Patton cast down his big blue puppy dog eyes. Deceit sighed.

"Seared?” Patton smiled.

“Course! I know what you like!” Deceit paused.

“Fine. I’ll eat.”

"Yaaaay!” Patton sunk out, probably to set the table. Deceit took a breath and sunk as well, appearing in the dining room. Logan was already there, his elbows on the table, reading an advanced physics textbook. VERY interesting. Virgil was at his seat with his head in his arms. He peered up at Deceit.

"Why is HE here again?” Patton gave Virgil a Dad Look.

“He comes twice a week, we agreed on that. He needs to be social.” Deceit hissed to himself. There was the pity.

"Why can’t he eat with the other Darks?”

"I eat with them on Mondays.” He lied like a liar. “Besides, I could ask you the same.” Virgil growled.

"Hey, be nice you two!” Patton set Deceit’s meal in front of him and looked at each of them sternly. “Logan, no reading at the table.” Logan groaned and shut his book, grabbing a napkin to stuff it in as a bookmark. He dropped it next to him.

“Oh! Deceit! When did you get here?” "Three years ago. You’ve been wrapped in that book for too long. Come back to us Logan, the mind has been a mess.” Deceit sawed off a piece of meat.

“Ha ha.” Logan shoveled a bite of potato into his mouth. Roman burst in.

"Hello to those I like and those I hate, you know who you are!” Roman had figured out a way to insult the others without Patton being able to yell at him. He sat and dug in, and all the sides began to talk about daily activities Deceit hadn’t taken any part in. He ate quietly, feeling the others eyes boring into him once in a while, judging. He growled.

"Thanks for the dinner Patton. I really do feel appreciated.” He lifted his plate. “But I think I’ll take this elsewhere.” Patton looked up from his food.

“What? No! Are the others being too mean? Stop being mean you guys!” He grabbed Deceits arm. Deceit yanked it away.

"Thanks. But no thanks.” He stalked away. He could hear Patton’s stern mumbling behind him and took solace in the idea of the others being scolded. But being pitied and protected only made him feel weaker. He made his way through the kitchen, headed to his room.

"Hey! Snake Boy!” He looked up. Two sides he’d never met we’re sat at a small table in the kitchen. He’d always wondered what that table was for. He raised a brow. He couldn’t for the life of him tell what type of side they were supposed to be. And why weren’t they at the dining room table?

"What?” He decided to indulge the side with the sunglasses which made oh so much sense to be wearing indoors at night.

"You’re the new one huh? What’s with the scales?” He swirled his coffee cup. “Remy, be nice.” The second spoke up. He straightened his bubblegum pink tie. “You’re Deceit, aren’t you?” Deceit blinked.

“Um... no...” The cardigan-clad side beamed.

“I KNEW it! Where you going?”

"Away. My room.” Deceit contemplated making a run for it.

"Um, no, you’re sitting with us!” He patted the chair next to him excitedly. Deceit raised a brow.

“Let it go Em, he doesn’t want to have to deal with you.” The side who he assumed was called Em huffed.

“Don’t be rude, I was offering, if he doesn’t want to-“

"Sure.” Deceit sat down. It felt odd sitting with people he didn’t know, but he was intrigued. And he had to prove that Remy didn’t already know him. Em squealed happily. "Fun!” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Emile, Emile Picani, and this is Remington!” "Remy, Em, it’s REMY.” Deceit chuckled.

“Deceit. Though you seem to know who I am already...?”

"Well duh, you’re the new dark side, you were in the last two episodes!” "Episodes...?” Deceit blinked. This Emile Picani must be insane.

"Don’t worry about it, I just want to get to know you!” Deceits heart skipped. Get to know him? But he had some questions first.

"Wait, first, who are you two? I’ve never seen you, are you Sides?”

"Oh, heavens no!” Emile giggled. “He’s sleep, and I’m an OC!”

"An OC...?”

"Yeah, were expecting more non-side extras at some point but for now it’s just us. At least, we’re the most accepted by the fandom.”

"What the ever loving f*ck are you talking about?”

"Oh!” Emile gasped. “You can censor yourself, that’s so neat!” He ignored the question.

“Sometimes in media a sharp beep can be more effective in conveying a swear than the swear itself, while still being deemed more appropriate.”

"Uh huh...” Deceit was lost. But he didn’t quite mind. The guy was charming, in a confusing sort of way.

“Why don’t you eat at the dining room table?”

"Well that’s for the sides.” Emile shrugged. Remy nodded. Deceit furrowed his brows.

"Do they not let you sit with them?”

"Oh, no no no, they’re perfectly kind to us. But usually they talk about Thomas’ problems, their jobs, things we really have no part in or fascination with.” Deceit nodded. “Now your turn to talk. What’s your story...?” Deceit picked at his fingernails.

“My story?”

"What’s your character? Your internal conflict? Why should I like Deceit Sanders? What does he add to the show? What are his quirks?” Deceit looked between the two not-sides. They stared at him in anticipation.

“Well... I’m the bad guy. I lie. I show up and ruin things.” Emile chuckled. "What’s so funny?!” Deceit glared at him.

"Oh, sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because you remind me of another certain dark side I used to talk with quite a lot.”

"...Virgil?” His heart sank. “You talked with Virgil?”

"Well someone likes killing the suspense.” Emile smiled. “Yeah, I talked with everyone’s favorite worry wart. He said a lot of the same things.”

"Really?”

"Um, have you even WATCHED Accepting Anxiety?”

"I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay... way to be honest.” Emile smiled. “But like Virgil, I’m gonna have to ask you to go a little deeper. Don’t tell me what you are to everyone else, tell me how YOU feel. YOUR story.” Deceit bit his lip. “There’s not much to tell...”

“I don’t mind.” Emile’s warm periwinkle eyes egged him on. His heart swelled in his chest. Nobody had ever shown such a deep interest in him. He sighed.

"Maybe... maybe I feel a little... gross. Sometimes. And being born a ‘dark side’...with this monster face... it feels easier to act how other people expect me to rather than trying to be anything else.” He looked up. Emile was staring, and Remy had stopped eating. He could see the edges of hot pink irises side eying him from behind his sunglasses. An awkward tension hung in the air.

“Kidding!” Deceit grinned far too wide. “I’m Deceit for f*cks sake, I’m a dark side, a villain made to be feared, not pitied! And I LOVE IT!” Emile’s expression didn’t change.

“Deceit. Calm down. I’m a therapist, I can tell when you’re lying.” Deceit’s grin faltered and faded. He sunk into his chair and put his head in his arms.

“I’m not ly-ying...” his voice hitched. He wasn’t about to cry in front of two people he just met.

“It’s okay. Talk it out. Breathe.” He felt Emile put a reassuring hand on his back. “This is common in a character arc. Denial followed by an explosion followed by an acceptance. It’s how these things go.”

"I’m not a character in one of your stupid shows...” Deceit shrugged Emile off him. “I’m a freak and I’ll always be a freak.”

“A common cliche.”

"I’m NOT CLICHE!!!” Deceit shot up and banged his fists on the table. Emile caught his arm.

"Remy, can you give us a moment?” Remy tossed his hair to the side.

“Go nuts girl, I’m done anyways.” He set his plate on the counter and sank out. Deceit watched him. They were alone.

“I know you’re not cliche. But this arc of a villain has common components. And always, ALWAYS, it works out in the end. Beauty and the Beast, Nick from Zootopia, I’ll leave it at that to spare you from a long long list.” Deceit huffed.

“This isn’t a cutesy animated Disney film.” "Sure it’s not. But it applies to your situation. And I think, despite what you say, you’ll turn out fine. Just use a little elbow grease. Break through the expectations of others and show them who you really are, be who you wanna be.” “It’s not that easy...” Deceit rubbed his scales. Picani took his chin and turned his head so they were looking into each other’s eyes.

"I know. Not much in life is. I’m not throwing some empty phrases at you like ‘be yourself’, ‘follow your dreams’, ‘believe in yourself’, now THOSE are cliche. I’m saying you have the ability to be who you feel is the real you. All you need to do is show it. It’ll be hard. I know it will. But keep at it and it can and will be okay.” Deceit blushed and looked away. “Everyone already hates me. How do I take that back...?”

"Apologize, show them you’re a good guy.”

"I don’t look or feel like a good guy... my scales-“ He freezes when Picani gently runs a finger down his scaled cheek.

“I like your scales. They’re fascinating. They’re pretty but they make you look badass, don’t worry about them, they’re great.” Deceit flushed bright yellow.

“I-i... really?”

"Really really! Everyone loves the villain, and a reformed villain retaining their quirks can be even more fun! But remember: Nobody likes a flat character. Show your colors, your conflict, drop the textbook villain act and don’t be afraid to get messy to show people the real you. Understand?” Deceit smiled slightly.

"I think I might.”

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia - Chapter 77: Kids Will be Kids

Presenting the next chapter of my highly self-indulgent next gen MHA fic!

Find the rest here!

It didn't take long for Kenta to find Bioshock. He was talking at the first aid station that had been set up with another Hero that Kenta didn't recognize. Bioshock had explained early that, while he couldn't turn back time so that an injury had never happened in the first place, like Doc Clock's Rewind, his Cell Activation could speed up the normal recovery process of routine injuries (Provided you didn't have type AB blood.).  An explosion in the near distance reminded Kenta that this meant The Rookies could keep working him and his classmates right up until the point of exhaustion, however much punishment they took. He swallowed as he approached them.

"Uhm, Boost Rush told me to report to you, sir."

"Hi there!" Bioshock turned away from his conversation and then gestured to the other hero. "This is Bezoar. His Quirk, Tongue Tank, is also tied to what he eats, so I wanted to use it for a demonstration."

Bezoar raised a hand in greeting. "Hey kid. How's it going?" He was tall, though not on the order of All Might or even Boost Rush, but more like the size of Kenta's father. He was more rounded at all the edges though. He had muted facial features, hardly any presence of a nose, and his hair was brown and fluffy. He was also somewhat pudgy for a Pro Hero; not to the extent that it had to be the result of his Quirk like Fat Gum, but just a normal heavyset person.

Kenta raised a hand in return, a little confused but paying attention. This guy must have been busy elsewhere so far, as he didn't remember Shinso gushing about him previously. His classmate's Hero Worship (Heh.  He’d have tell Takuma that one.) was useful for identifying Pros. "I'm... good."

"Okay, so, here's his Quirk being used a couple of days ago, after improper nutritional--" Bioshock began.

"You mean eating like a /normal/ person." Bezoar cut him off. "Nobody likes your kale and oat smoothies, Shimano."

"--after improper nutritional intake." Bioshock continued, turning his head away from his coworker indignantly. He turned a tablet he'd been holding towards Kenta, and a video played. Kenta watched as the Bezoar in the video unhinged his jaw and his tongue transformed into a tank cannon. He fired some sort of projectile that shattered a large rock to bits. "Not bad, but now, after a meal that was centered around iron and calcium content..." He turned back to Bezoar.

The heavy-set man smirked. He then dropped down to brace himself on all fours as he activated his Quirk and took aim at a nearby boulder. Bioshock covered his ears and called out "Firing range in use!" just moments before the shot was released. There was a roar of air as the projectile took off. This time, the rock didn't shatter, but the one about a hundred yards behind it DID, as the first one now had a neatly created hole in it. Bioshock looked smug as Bezoar brushed himself off and stood back up. "Thank you. You can go back to the long-range group." Bezoar gave him a brief nod and trundled off.

"...I don't mean to be rude, sir, and I get that was impressive, but I'm not sure what it has to do with me." Kenta furrowed his brow.  That was about as far from his Quirk as Suneater’s had been.  All three involved eating, but there wasn’t much more to link them.

“So,” Bioshock said, “let’s start with this?  What’s your Quirk?”

Kenta blinked slowly. “It’s officially registered as “Appetite.”  I can eat just about anything, whether or not it’s really food.”

Bioshock drew himself up, grinning. "I studied your medical file from Eri—excuse me, Doc Clock. There's more to your Quirk than just 'eating stuff'. You're able to intake /way/ more than a human normally can, with no apparent ill effect, with highly efficient processing since you’re not the size of a small house, and more than that--" He moved forward, clearly becoming excited now, and took Kenta's face in his hands, pulling his jaw open and examining him. "Your teeth are practically indestructible, and the interior of your mouth, esophagus, and connected digestive elements are similarly impervious.”

Kenta could swear he'd seen the same gleam in the Iida twins eyes when they started talking about some piece of technology.  "I see..." He managed to awkwardly respond around the fingers pulling at his mouth, before Bioshock finally calmed down somewhat, turning to gesture at the table behind him.

"What this means, is that your body is capable of incredibly fast absorption of consumed materials, as well as withstanding certain things that would be... well, let's say /volatile/. We're going to test your responses to things to elevate your adrenal levels, blood oxygen, and other measurable statistics... before we move on to the fun stuff." He grinned, and Kenta wasn't sure if he should be scared or not.

***

“I’m dead.  I’m dead.  I’m just going to lie here and be dead.”

Chihiro just sighed.  Despite the theatrics, Mika had a point.  They were all pretty much exhausted from having spent the day training.  There’d been a short break for lunch, but it was been almost non-stop training otherwise. She’d spent considerable time unleashing powerful discharges of electricity, stopping just before she reached the point where it started to affect her brain.  Well, almost.  One particularly bad discharge had left her a sputtering mess until Bioshock had applied his Quirk and accelerated her recovery.  That had been embarrassing. She’d been pushing her limits for a while now and hadn’t had any issues with blowing out her brains.  Of course, she’d also been relying more and more on the Support equipment built into her costume as well, making use of the different tools and outlets for regulating her electricity.  Her costume, along with those of a few others who made more extensive use of Support devices, was here, currently stored away until the Rookies decided it was time to train with it.

Maybe she’d been relying on it too much.  There was no shame, she knew, in using whatever it took to be her best and most effective self.  But what was she going to do if there was an emergency and she didn’t have access to that? It was something she was going to have to chew on.

Of course, Mika had to go and try and be extra during dinner…

“Hey!’  Anime Fukidashi shouted, pulling her plate out of the way.  The plate and food somehow turned animated as soon as she touched them.  Chihiro was making a concentrated effort not to think about it.  Fukidashi was just confusing at the best of times.  “If you’re going to be dead, watch the horns!”

Slowly, Mika raised her head back up off the table.  “Fine, I’m not dead.  I haven’t made a will yet anyway.  Who knows what might happen to my porn collection if I don’t make a plan for it!”

That got a booming laugh out of Yoarashi.  “Oh, babe,” he laughed.  “You really are too much!”  The giant boy somehow managed to still have entirely too much energy.  “I would be happy to take possession of your collection should anything unfortunate happen!”

Chihiro stared down at her plate.  “Can we not talk about porn while we’re eating?”  She still couldn’t believe Mika had somehow managed to have her giant boyfriend at the summer training camp.  The odds of that were so astronomical that she wouldn’t have been able to figure them out even if she’d been good at math.  

Not that she had any right to complain, of course.  Her own not-quite boyfriend was here too.  Her not-quite boyfriend who was already making her jewelry and who had all but promised that she’d want to kiss him again.

Which she didn’t. Just to be clear.  

Yet.

“Fine,” Mika whined. “Just be a downer, Chi.”  

She rolled her eyes at that. “Right.  So sorry to bring down the mood.”

“See that you are.”

“I do have to say, Mika,” Fukidashi said, “you really hit the jackpot with Yoarashi here.  Especially compared to Monoma.  It’s just like I Upgraded My Boyfriend and I Never Looked Back!”

“You do realize I’m sitting right here, don’t you?” Monoma asked irritably, from where he was sitting next to Chihiro.  She could understand his irritation at the comparison. Yoarashi had at least a foot of height on him and a considerable amount of muscle as well.  And nobody liked being considered a poorer version of someone else.  She felt inadequate enough compared to some of her friends (usually Mika) sometimes.

“That’s what makes it more fun,” Fukidashi said, rubbing her hands together.  “You’re so easy to rile up, Monoma.”

“Oh, please, do not tease Monoma!” Yoarashi boomed.  He looked over at the smaller boy.  “But I want you to know, Monoma, that as Mika’s current boyfriend, I hold you, her ex,  no ill will! I hope we can be friends!”

Monoma held his gaze for a long moment, blinking slowly.  “Friends,” he said, utterly deadpan.  “Sure.  Right.”

Yoarashi let out another laugh, completely blind to Monoma’s sarcasm.  Or possibly being deliberately obtuse.  She wasn’t one hundred percent sure. “Holy Hurricanes, thank goodness! I was afraid you would hate me!”

Monoma’s jaw clenched for a moment before he responded. “Of course not,” he said, still deadpan. Yoarashi still didn’t notice, but Fukidashi was stifling a laugh.  Even Mika was rolling her eyes.

“So, Shiro,” Mika said, likely trying to prevent a fight, “you look mostly dead yourself.”

“Oh, thanks,” he snapped.

“No,” Mika said, and here her tone shifted to something more sympathetic, “I’m serious.  You look beat to hell.  Training taking that much out of you?”

Monoma frowned.  Chihiro had to admit, Mika was right.  They were all exhausted, but he looked like he’d been through an extra kind of hell.  “My asshole cousin,” he said.  “He takes particular delight in beating the stuffing out of me.  ‘Evasion practice,’ he calls it.”

Chihiro frowned.  She gave him a slight nudge with one of her Cords. “Is that all it is?” she asked. He sounded pretty defeated again.

“Oh, no, never enough for him,” Monoma groaned.  “He had to get all psychological on me too.  Telling me I don’t have to prove anything.  As if that was going to do anything but make me try harder.  Or that I need to stop being jealous of people with greater raw power.”  

There was an awkward pause. Mika gave Fukidashi a stern look that silenced anything she might have added to the conversation.  Yoarashi seemed completely oblivious.

“It just makes it worse that he’s right,” Monoma said, causing Mika to breathe a sigh of relief. “I just wish he wasn’t so damn smug about it.”

“You know what you need, ‘Ro?” Mika asked.  And now it was Chihiro’s turn to groan.  No good ever came of Mika starting a sentence with “you know what you need.”  She had plenty of personal experience getting drawn into crazy schemes when that happened.

“Extensive psychological counseling?” Fukidashi asked.  

“A distraction,” Mika said. She pointed across the cafeteria, where Koda was sitting and talking with Aoyama and Shoji.  “We’re going to get Koda and Aoyama together.  Operation: Summer Love.”

“Now I know why you didn’t invite Tetsutetsu to sit with us,” Chihiro said.  “She’d have put a stop to this.”  She really needed to start hanging around with Izumi more. This kind of thing never happened with her.  

***

“You okay?” Isamu asked. “You’ve been staring at that table for a while now.”

Kana shook her head, her orange ponytail swaying.  “I’m not sure.  I know Mika and Fukidashi are up to something.  And they’re probably looping Monoma, Kaminari, and Yoarashi in.  This has disaster written all over it.”

“Do we need to do something about it?” Midoriya asked.  “Mineta wrangling is actually on the official list of Class Representative duties.”

Isamu was pretty sure that was a joke.  Given how Kana laughed at it and that Midoriya was smiling, it probably was.  Probably.

“Eh, we can probably let it play out,” Kana said.  “She and Monoma will mostly cancel each other out.  Mika’s ‘zany schemes’ usually backfire anyway.”  There was the slightest hint of doom in her voice, like someone who’s decided to step out of the way of a runaway train, but knew that train was still going to hit someone.    

“Yeah, I guess,” Midoriya said.

“She does occasionally give good advice,” Sora Iida, sitting next to him, said.  “She did suggest the bikini on our trip to Todoroki’s resort. You did enjoy that, did you not?”

Midoriya went several shades of red, fast enough that Isamu was concerned he might combust.  “Ah, yeah,” Midoriya said when he could speak. “That was… good.”  

“What about you, Shinso?” Isamu asked, in-between bites of food, to give Midoriya time to recover. It wasn’t anything special, served from the Rookies’ mess hall, but there was plenty of it.  Bioshock had apparently designed the menu to provide them with the maximum amount of nutrition and energy, though he was pretty sure he’d heard Vanish Veil refer to it as ‘health food junk.’  He looked over at the purple-haired boy.  “You doing all right?”

Shinso was drinking from a steaming cup of tea that Bioshock had provided him with.  Even with the protections his Quirk offered him, the kid could only scream so much before it started hurting his throat.  He nodded and flashed a thumbs’ up, being under instructions not to talk until he was back in training.  Given how much he liked to talk, it had to be killing him.

Isamu gave him a thumb’s up in return.  “So, Midoriya,” he said, “is Ground Zero always that scary?”

“What?” Midoriya asked, surprised.  He quickly shook his head.  “Oh, oh no. He’s not usually scary.  He’s just intense.  But really… this is him being pretty sedate.”  Beside him, Shinso’s head was bobbing like one of those novelty drinking birds.  

Isamu gulped.  If what they’d seen so far—shouting instructions, generally giving off scary vibes, arguing with and insulting Aizawa, Super-Ball, and the Rookies—was sedate, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see intense.  At one point, Ground Zero’s argument with Vanish Veil had gotten so intense, he’d been certain they were going to come to blows. Only Bioshock’s intervention had staved off violence.

“Relax,” Kana assured him. “I’m friends with Katsumi, remember? At least twenty percent of all that… Ground Zero-ness… is just an act.”

He shook his head. “Why am I not as reassured by that as I’d like?”

A large shadow fell over the table and Isamu turned to see the Shiketsu girl, Tatsuma.  She was, in a word, imposing, with powerful arms and legs. But the most imposing thing about her didn’t seem to be raw physical might.  Instead, she just seemed to possess an aura of power and menace that was impossible to ignore.  He gulped.

“Oh, hi,” Midoriya said. “Do you want to sit with us?”  He waved in Kana’s general direction.  “I’m Toshinori Midoriya, and this is Kana Tetsutetsu, we’re the Class Reps for Class 1-A and 1-B.  And these are my friends, Sora Iida, Isamu Haimawari and Shota Shinso.”

Shinso perked up and started to open his mouth, but then seemed to remember he wasn’t supposed to talk. He seemed to settle for giving a friendly wave.

Tatsuma looked down at them, food tray in hand.  “I know who you are,” she said, with a gaze that seemed especially fixated on Midoriya. “Some of you are practically royalty to some people.”

Midoriya swallowed hard. “It’s, ah, it’s really not like that…”

“I am not accusing you of asking for it or even enjoying it, but let’s not pretend it doesn’t exist,” she said in a neutral tone. After a moment she sat down. “My name is Chie Tatsuma, class representative of Shiketsu 1A.”

It had taken nearly most of the first term, but Isamu had gotten used to living and training with the children of some of the world’s greatest Heroes.  But it didn’t change the fact that Midoriya, Iida, and Kana were all the children of highly ranked Heroes.  All of them had a parent in the Top Ten even.  Shinso’s parents were Underground Heroes, of course, but still well known within the right circles.

“Looking forward to working with you,” Kana said, diplomatically.  

Shinso reached over and frantically patted Midoriya's arm.  When Midoriya gave him his attention, Shinso made several complicated gestures with his hands, first pointing at Tatsuma, then making some kind of gesture that ended with him flapping his hands like wings.

Somehow, Midoriya seemed to figure it out.  “Oh!” he said.  “Right, thanks, Shota.  Tatsuma… are you related to Ryukyu?”

The Dragoon Hero?  Now there was a name Isamu hadn’t heard in a long time…  He vaguely recalled she’d been a rising star for a quite a few years, before slowly falling out of favor.

For a moment, a small half-smile crossed the tall girl’s face. “Yes. She’s my mother.” She looked at the other students, all of whom were children of the generation after Ryukyu’s time. “Mother was keen to not have children until she retired.”

There were a few Pro-Heroes like that, Isamu realized.  If he remembered the Sports Festival right, Vlad King had a daughter in Class 1-C. And the Shiketsu students also included Pixie-Bob’s adopted son.

“I thought so,” Midoriya said.  “Mom was always sorry they didn’t get to work together more.”

The smile grew by a small bit. “The feeling was mutual. I remember sitting in the den watching the news as a child. Uravity had just rescued a large number of people from a boating accident. Mother looked at me and said “I knew that girl was going to be great.”

Midoriya nodded and smiled at that.  “She does a lot of great work.  We’re all proud of her.”

“Both admirable women,” Iida agreed.  “My uncle also worked with Ryukyu a few times.  He always spoke very highly of her.  The youngest woman ever to reach the Top Ten.  She likely inspired many up and coming female Heroes.”

The moment the ranking system was brought up, Chie’s eyes flashed into a gold, slit-pupiled shape. A tearing of wood could be heard. Chie's hand had dug into the table, causing the small area to splinter. When she spoke again, it was in a tone of cool anger.

“The Ranking System is a slap in the face to every Pro who takes on the role of hero. It claims to give you something to aspire to, when in fact it promotes inferiority in everyone who is not considered part of the elite. My mother spent her whole career thinking she wasn’t doing enough. Thinking she didn’t deserve the things she earned.” She took a deep breath, then let it out, traces of smoke escaping her nostrils. “You said it in innocence, so I will not hold it against you, but kindly please do not bring up that travesty of a system in my presence again.”

It had taken nearly everything Isamu had not to jump when Tatsuma had splintered the table.  He must have been getting better.  Then again, compared to Kirishima-Bakugo’s explosive rage, Tatsuma’s cool anger was much less harsh on the nerves.  But she was still definitely scary, just in her own way.

“My apologies,” Iida said.

“I can’t say I agree,” Midoriya said.  “Dad always said the rankings were mostly to give people a little bit of a show, remind them they’ve got people watching out for them.  Make things a little less scary if there was something there that regular people could get invested in.  There’s people who took it too seriously, like Endeavor, but most Heroes aren’t after the rankings.  Dad bounces back and forth from the top spot with Uncle Mirio all the time, and it’s no big deal for him.”

Isamu winced.  He liked Midoriya a lot, and he knew Deku was about as humble a person as could exist, especially considering his power and ranking, but he had to know that wasn’t how it looked from the outside...

Chie slowly rose from the table. Her eyes remained reptilian in countenance, and a slow trickle of smoke exhaled from Chie’s nostrils. A definite hint of sulfur could be smelled in the area.

“Really? Back and forth to the number two spot? My, what a fall from grace. Has he ever had to deal with the fact that no matter how many lives he’s saved, how many disasters he’s averted, and no matter how many villains he’s helped capture, that it’s just not enough for people to respect you the same as those above?”

She stared into Midoriya’s eyes, her tone still cool, but now with a definite hint of contained rage. “Has he been so convinced by the system that he is somehow unworthy of even the paltriest scraps the Hero Commission throws his way? To work his absolute hardest for the people, and then be demoted for something that was no fault of his own?” She then let out a bitter chuckle, which briefly showed hints of sharpened teeth. “A show. Yes. That’s what the system is. Something for the people on the street to speculate and make bets on who’s going to rise, and who’s going to be a “nobody who will never sniff the Top Ten.” She leaned very close to Midoriya then, the smoke much thicker. “Don’t talk to me of the good of the Ranking System unless you’ve heard your mother cry herself to sleep because it makes her feel she’s not good enough!”

It was then that words in a foreign tongue could be heard. Chie turned to the girl with the white streak in her hair. Chie said something back in the same language. The girl replied, her voice soft, consoling. Chie gritted her teeth, nodded, and walked away from the table.

Midroiya gulped again. Shinso just sat there, wide-eyed and shell-shocked.  There was an awkward silence in the air for a moment.  “I…” Midoriya began, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words.  “I think I messed that up,” he said finally. It was the closest Isamu could ever recall to seeing him look defeated.  Even back on I-Island, when things had looked pretty damn desperate…

Iida gave him a small squeeze.  “You could not have known,” she said.

Kana gave him a sympathetic look.  “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to make it up to her,” she told him.  

Isamu held up a hand. “Speaking as the closest thing to normal at this table, maybe… don’t?” he tried.  “I mean, I know you guys aren’t all arrogant or high and mighty or anything, but maybe… just don’t poke the hornet’s nest here?  Be friendly, sure, but I don’t think this is a difference of opinion or anything simple.  I don’t think you’re going to be able to fix it.”

Midoriya shook his head. He just looked so defeated, like his whole worldview had taken a punch.  “I guess…”

***

“You okay there, Kimmie?” Takuma asked.  The invisible girl had gone stiff for a moment, a bite of food halfway to her mouth. She was definitely starting at something, but he couldn’t tell what.  When she wasn’t wearing anything in her hair, it was almost impossible to tell where she was looking.  Of course, Kenta seemed to have figured out the secret.

“Yeah, something up?” Kenta asked.  

Kimiko set her chopsticks down.  “Someone, somewhere here, is trying to ship people.  I can feel it in my bones.”

“Oh,” he said.  

“Oh?!” Kimiko shouted. Her arms started to flail through the air.  “Is that all you can say?!”

“Why’s that such a big deal, Kimmie?” Kenta asked desperately.  He was scooting slightly outside of his girlfriend’s hitting range.

“Because they’re doing it without me!”  

GLUP!

“Ah, Ojiro?” Rika Bondo asked.  “Mind taking your fist out of my head?”   Takuma had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.  Kimiko’s fist was buried in the slime-girl’s skull up to her wrist, having pierced it during her flailing.

“What?  Oh, ew! Ew!  Ew!” Kimiko quickly withdrew her hand, enough slime sticking to her fingers to coat them like body paint.  “Oh, ewwww!  It’s sticking to me!  Eeeewww!” She shook her hand wildly, trying to dislodge the slime.

“Ojiro!” Tensei said, his own arms flailing through the air, albeit much more mechanically than Kimiko’s. “Please be careful, lest the slime contaminate our food!”

“Hey!” Bondo said. “That slime is me!  I’m perfectly sanitary!”

“Ha ha ha!” Kitiara Kaniyashiki let out a laugh. “Oh, we definitely gotta start hanging around with you guys more.  You’re a lot more fun than Haimawari.  Dunno what Tetsutetsu sees in the guy.  He’s a real nervous wreck compared to you all!”

“Hey,” Kenta protested, “Haimawari’s a good guy.  

“Yeah,” Kaniyashiki said, “I’m sure he is.  And that’s what makes him boring. He’s so ‘aw shucks’ it’s ridiculous.”

“Speaking of shipping,” Bondo said, now that Kimiko had stopped flailing everywhere, “any new shipping gossip, Ojiro?”

Kimiko seemed to light up at that.  Takuma could hear the smile in her voice.  “Oh, you like my show?!”

“Fukidashi got us turned into it,” Bondo told her.  

“Hey, what about our parts?” Takuma asked.  “Me and Kenta have shows too you know!”

“Eh,” Kaniyashiki said, waving a hand in the air.  “I like the part where you slam into a wall when you’re swinging around.  Bet Doc Clock hates patching you up after that.”

Takuma winced at that, countless memories of Doc Clock yelling at him and occasionally hitting him on the head with her reflex hammer flashing through his head.  Most of the time, U.A.’s doctor was a sweet woman, but when her temper got up, it was very easy to see that she was Aizawa’s daughter. Words like “you idiot” and “what were you thinking?” and “if it was up to me, I’d expel you!” came readily to her lips.  And she really didn’t seem to understand that fame was worth any amount of bruises and broken bones.  

“She… might have had some choice words about it,” he admitted.

Kenta practically choked on his food.  His friend had an unusual spread in front of him, both regular foods and a bowl full of miscellaneous small objects like nuts, bolts, and screws.  “Is that what you’re calling it?”

Tensei likewise winced. “I have advised against such reckless behavior many times.  Every time you injure yourself, my heart nearly skips a beat!”  He considered this.  “Or rather, it would if I possessed an underlying heart condition. As it is, it simply creates an accelerated heartrate and additional levels of stress, which when paired together, are not healthy.”

“Aw, babe,” Takuma said, batting his eyelashes at his boyfriend, “you really do care.”  He focused his attention back at Kenta, pointing menacingly.  “And you… no comments from the peanut gallery!”

“I thought I was a co-star?”

“Stop bringing logic into this!”

***

Koharu took a long sip of her smoothie. It was sweet, the way she liked it.  Having an all liquid diet was limiting sometimes, so she was always grateful for options that were filling and tasted good.

“You were right,” she said. “I can’t recall ever being this tired before, even after the Sports Festival.”  And she’d gotten the stuffing nearly knocked out of her several times there.  But the Rookies and their teachers had definitely been pushing them hard, her included.  On the one hand, she was happy to be treated no differently than the more experienced Hero students.  On the other hand, talk about being thrown in the deep end…  She brushed her antenna out of her face, as they were starting to droop.

Tokoyami nodded, looking very tired as well.  Her familiar, Frog-Shadow, had retreated inside her when she’d sat down, saying that she was “going to her room for a nap”.  Tokyami hadn’t even rolled her eyes in annoyance at that, which just showed how tired she was.  She was carefully angling food into the side of her beak, mechanically and lifelessly. It looked a bit odd, but Koharu didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to commenting on how other people had to eat.  “Even hearing my parents speak of it, I hadn’t expected it to be this grueling…”

“Mmm-hmm,” Todoroki agreed, slurping noodles into her mouth.  She’d taken several large and colorful pills when they’d sat down to eat.  Koharu didn’t know what they were, but Todoroki had taken them with such little fanfare or effort that it had to be a pretty regular thing.  She wasn’t going to be so rude as to ask about them though. It definitely wasn’t her business to pry into, though Todoroki did look especially tired, compared to everyone else.

Todoroki swallowed. “My apologies.  I should not try and talk with my mouth full.  But I hope you are not finding the training too difficult, Kocho?”

She shook her head.  “No, I can keep up, it’s just… intense. And you guys do this kind of training every day?” She wasn’t about to admit that she’d never worked this hard in her life, especially not in front of the kids of Pro-Heroes.  She didn’t need them thinking she couldn’t cut it.  She didn’t need herself thinking she couldn’t cut it.

“Not quite,” Tokoyami said. “Some of our Heroics classes are purely theoretical, dealing with law and history.  But the physical training is still very demanding and often mentally exhausting as well, depending on how complex it is.”

Well, that made sense. Not everything could be punching the bad guys in the face.  And there were plenty of stories in the news of Heroes who failed to follow policies and procedures and were censured, suspended, or even stripped of their licenses on fair occasions. It usually made mention of what Hero School they had graduated from and it had rarely, if ever, been U.A. or Shiketsu. Better to study hard now than end up on the news.

“So basically,” Koharu said, putting on a small grin, “I’ll be feeling this exhausted pretty much for the next two plus years.  Is that what you’re saying?”

“You did join us of your own volition,” Todoroki said.  “You knew the job was dangerous when you took it.”

That got a laugh out of Koharu, and a chirping one out of Tokoyami.  “Yeah, okay,” she conceded.  “Good point.”

“Hello? Pardon me, I don’t mean to interrupt.” The voice seemed to come from out of nowhere as there had been no sounds of footsteps preceding it. There stood the multi-eyed girl from Shiketsu, her six eyes blinking in a bit of a shy way, but with a beaming smile. “My name is Akira Shida. I thought it proper to introduce myself.”

Koharu nearly let out a small yelp, but she clamped her mouth shut hard.  No matter how much she told herself the other girl was no threat, there was still some animal instinct that prompted the moth to fear the spider. Though even without the spider-thing, the ninja-sneaky thing was pretty startling all on its own.  Even still, she would also admit, the other girl was otherwise kind of cute.

“Not at all,” Tokoyami said, giving the spider-girl a polite nod.  “It is a pleasure to meet you.  I’m Asuka Tokoyami.”

Todoroki gave a small wave. “Likewise.  I am Izumi Todoroki.”

“And I’m Koharu Kocho,” Koharu added.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Please,” Tokoyami went on, gesturing to the bench beside her, “sit.  Join us.”

“Thank you kindly.” Suddenly the “spikes” on her back extended into eight spider-like limbs which carried her over in just a few seconds. They made no sound as the legs scurried across the ground, easily lifting Shida’s body up and placing her down at the lunch table.  It reminded Kocho a bit of seeing Shoji extend and walk on his extra-four arms.  Once she was seated, the legs quickly retracted into her back, once more looking like a set of eight spikes. “I wanted to apologize for Tatsuma’s behavior earlier. She’s very.. intense, but she has her reasons.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t know anything about having intense classmates like that,” Todoroki said, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in a mischievous smile.  

“She is correct,” Tokoyami went on.  “I’m reasonably confident Kirishima-Bakugo will behave herself, especially with her father here, but it isn’t impossible she’ll react violently if provoked enough.”

“She sure seemed like she didn’t like us,” Koharu said.  She took a last drink of her smoothie, slurping up the remains.  “Sorry.  Noisier than I thought it was going to be.”  

“Quite alright,” Shida assured them with a friendly smile. She frowned a bit at Tokoyami’s statement. “You may wish to advise her not to act on that impulse. Tatsuma is very strong.”

There was a small shift in Todoroki.  Koharu knew that she and Kirishima-Bakugo were friends, but just based on what she’d seen of the two of them, it seemed even deeper than that.  Todoroki seemed to be the only person who could make Kirishima-Bakugo back down from anything.

“As much as I am able to occasionally steer Katsumi,” Todoroki said, “she will ultimately make her own decisions.  Especially where her pride is concerned.”  She frowned in concern though.  “But she is also too stubborn to know when to give up.  How strong is ‘very strong’?”    

Shida seemed reluctant for a moment. “I have a loyalty to my school, and to my classmates, so I can’t give you specifics. However, I don’t want any incidents that could impact the importance of this trip. It’s not broadcast like UA’s, but you’re aware Shiketsu has a Sports Festival as well?”

Todoroki nodded. “Yes.  I have even attended a few of them, at Shinji’s father’s invitation. Very intense completion, if less focused on spectacle than ours.”

“Tatsuma won this year’s, but she did not just win. She dominated the tournament in a way no one has in decades. This tournament included myself, Kaz, Seung, and Shinji. Shinji’s stronger than his dad was at his age. He made it to the finals as well. He unleashed winds that damaged the very stadium, but Tatsuma still beat him with little trouble.” Akira’s eyes seemed like they were looking somewhere else for a moment. “She’s not someone you want to be across the ring from.”

And Kirishima-Bakugo hadn’t even made it out of the first round of the tournament, Koharu remembered, defeated by Todoroki’s elemental power, though it had been a very close thing. But Kirishima-Bakugo’s real power was in her ferocity, not her physical strength.  Regardless, Koharu was grateful that she hadn’t had to fight either of them.  Against fire, ice, and explosions, moth-powers probably wouldn’t have added up to much.  

Yet, she told herself.  Wasn’t much good yet.  Once she got more training, maybe she could keep up.

“Shinji is incredibly powerful,” Todoroki replied.  “Anyone who could take him down easily is formidable indeed.”

Tokaymi let out a frustrated sigh. She pinched the bridge of her beak with her fingertips. “Of course, that’s who she’d pick a fight with.”

“Maybe it won’t happen?” Koharu tried.  She didn’t believe her own words, but it never hurt to be hopeful.

Todoroki frowned again. “I will tell her to use all caution. That is all I can promise.”

“Thank you. I will speak to Seung, if Tatsuma will listen to anyone it’s her. Granted Seung has her own reasons to dislike the status quo,” Shida said off-handedly. She was clearly someone who liked to talk, but probably didn’t always realize how much she was saying. Seung must have been the foreign Shiketsu student, Koharu realized.

“She was definitely giving us the evil eye when we got off the bus,” Koharu said.  Like she’d been judging them actually, and assigning them a failing grade.  “What was that us in particular or…?”

“That’s a very long story.” Shida thought for a moment. “It’s not you specifically, but she has little love for the Pro Hero system. At least Japan’s version of it.”

And yet she was enrolled in a Hero school?  Maybe she was trying to change the system from within?  The system wasn’t flawless, but it sure seemed like it was better than it was a couple of decades ago.  “Ah, I won’t pry then,” she said.

“Are there any of your other classmates we should be concerned about?” Tokoyami asked. “Mineta’s boyfriend seems exuberant but harmless enough.”

“Oh Shinji’s a sweetheart,” Shida agreed. “Kazuchika’s a huge flirt. The only problem you’d have with him is him possibly hitting on you, but he gets the message if you’re not interested. That doesn’t mean he’d stop being flirtatious, just that he’s not actively trying to sweep you off your feet anymore. He means no harm, it’s just who he is.”

“Good,” Tokyami replied, seemingly satisfied with that.  “Beyond Kirishima-Bakugo, I doubt you have anything to worry about from our class. Some of them can be a bit annoying or egotistical, but none of them would mean you any real harm.”   She seemed to consider something.  “Well, there is Mineta.  She can be rather flirtatious as well.”

“There is Monoma,” Todoroki said.  “That’s the blond boy, from 1-B.  He may try to start something.”

Koharu frowned.  “He seemed nice enough at the Sports Festival. He took losing to me pretty gracefully.” He’d even brought her snacks between matches.  Though she knew interclass rivalries could get pretty intense. It did remind her she hadn’t spoken to him since then.  She really should.

“Katsumi certainly does not like him,” Todoroki said.  “Though the whole of it is a bit more complex.  But he does believe in trying to make his class successful and proving their superiority.  He may try to start an additional rivalry.”

Ah.  A little too much class pride then.  That’d do it.  

“You may wish to try and keep him away from Tatsuma and Seung,” Shida advised. “I don’t “think” Tatsuma would care about it enough to do something, but Seung has a short fuse for, and I’m quoting here: “Stupid hero penis-jousting.” I probably horribly mangled that. I’m trying to learn Korean better, but it’s slow going.” She says this with a nervous chuckle.

“A bit blunt,” Todoroki said, trying and failing to hide a smile, “but quite accurate really.”

“I’ll speak to Tetsutetsu,” Tokyami said.  She didn’t have the facial structure for a smile, but it sounded like she was trying not to laugh or groan in frustration and had somehow managed to split the difference.  “She usually has a handle on him.”

“And I’ll talk to Chihiro,” Todoroki added.  “Perhaps she can influence him now.”

There was the strong suggestion in their tones that neither of them had much confidence in that endeavor. But Koharu really didn’t have the context to make any real guesses as to how it might turn out.  It certainly sounded like there were a lot of potential tinder boxes waiting to go off.  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that...

[artificialqueens]

Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 3 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: Honestly, thank you so much to anyone who’s reading this very self-indulgent story. I adore all of you, and especially the creator of Galactica, my lovely friend @theartificialdane. Click here for previous chapters. <3

Last chapter: Long distance relationships are tough, but the girls are trying.

This chapter: Vixen joins Courtney in LA for the VMAs, and then Courtney surprises her in Chicago.

***

Vixen wasn’t sure why she agreed to this. She was going to be so far out of her depth. But when she told Courtney about a lecture she was giving at UCLA in August, a lecture that happened to be the same weekend as the VMAs, Courtney somehow convinced her to come to the awards show as her date.

“You have to do it,” Asia had informed her, when she heard the hesitation. When she said that she still didn’t know, Mayhem interrupted to give a slightly more forceful message.

“When the fuck are you gonna have the chance to do something like that again?” she demanded. “Come on, stop overthinking like a little bitch.”

Courtney’s cajoling was more gentle. Logical, even—pointing out that it would be great publicity for her book and her podcast.

“It could open you up to a whole new audience. Think of the people that you could reach!”

It was a good point, Vixen conceded. So she agreed, and they casually discussed the logistics. She didn’t really panic until she was in the uber on the way to Courtney’s house. What was she doing? Who did she think she was, showing up at what she was sure would be a gated mansion, to be professionally styled for a red carpet?

It wasn’t a gated mansion. It was a bungalow tucked into the side of the Hollywood Hills, covered in vines and bursting with plants of every type. After giving her a warm, tight hug, Courtney led her into the living room, where someone (a stylist?) was waiting with racks of clothes.

“I didn’t know exactly what you’d want, so I had Jo bring you lots of options,” Courtney said. “We should choose now so that they have time to tailor it while we’re at the spa. Jo, can you show her your favorites?”

Vixen glanced around the room while Jo presented her with wardrobe options and Courtney poured her a glass of lemonade. Without the explosion of clothes, it would have been a cozy, regular living room. Two sofas, some art on the walls. Nothing remotely ostentatious.

“I like your house,” she told Courtney, accepting the drink gratefully. “It’s...uh...not what I was expecting.”

“No?” Courtney asked, head cocked.

“No. Well, I mean, it’s like...a normal house,” Vixen explained.

“And you were expecting, what? A spaceship?” Courtney giggled.

“No, like...I don’t know. Some baroque mansion with columns and a butler and big chandeliers, I guess.”

“Hmm, yeah, sounds like my style,” Courtney said, making Vixen laugh.

“Shut up. You’re rich and you love glitter, okay? So I just thought it would be more…”

“Tacky?”

“Yes?” Vixen scrunched her face up apologetically.

“I mean, that’s fair. My first house here was a bit of a Swaravski nightmare. Oh, I really like that one!” Courtney exclaimed, looking at the royal blue dress in Vixen’s hands. “Do you want to try it on? You can use the guest room as a dressing room.”

Vixen nodded, relieved that disrobing in front of Courtney and Jo (and a random girl she’d just noticed on the patio, pacing around with a phone to her ear) in the broad daylight wasn’t on the agenda.

After trying on a few choices, Vixen settled on a short, black and turquoise romper - it was fun and sexy, but still classy, and would be comfortable enough to sit around in for hours. Jo was helping her figure out the accessories (with occasional input from Courtney as she pranced around with snacks) when the girl from outside stepped in, carrying Courtney’s fluffy pomeranian under one arm.

“Okay, everything’s all set at the hotel,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Vix, that’s Brianna. Yes, I like those shoes!” She nodded approvingly at the bright yellow pumps Vixen was trying.

“Yeah, hi, sorry. I’m Courtney’s assistant. Brie,” she reached out to give Vixen a firm handshake.

“Ugh, I still hate the word ‘assistant.’ Can’t we come up with a cooler title for you?” Courtney asked.

“Sure, that’ll be my top priority,” Brianna replied sarcastically, then barreled rapidly through the day’s plans. “So, after we wrap up here, we’ll head for the hotel. Massages and manicures at the spa while we set up hair and makeup. We should really start by 2 at the lastest to make sure we can manage something presentable out of...that,” she gestured vaguely in Courtney’s direction with a smirk, everyone laugh, “And then leave at 4 to drive to the theatre and do the red carpet by 4:30 or 5. Then the show, blah blah blah, performance, not my problem, and then we head to Van Nuys for wheels-up at 9. Cool?”

“When do we eat?” Courtney asked.

“You’ll have a meal at the spa. You know, in that area by the dipping pool thing?”

“Oh, okay,” Courtney said.

“And then obviously we’ll have snacks in the room, and we ordered a bunch of stuff for you to have backstage. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of food.”

“Great.”

“Um...I have a question,” Vixen said, pausing her perusal of the jewelry table. “Are the hair people gonna be familiar with Black hair?”

Brie turned toward her with a vague eye roll, asking, “Do I look like a moron to you?”

Vixen leveled her gaze, not backing down, and answered, “You look like someone who has never worn a protective hairstyle before.”

“Fair enough,” Brie conceded with a grin. “And don’t worry. We got you good people who are very experienced with protective styles.”

“Thanks, Brie! Ooh, how about ‘Executive Vice President of Human Logistics’?” Courtney suggested.

“Whatever makes you happy, girl,” Brianna said tiredly, giving Courtney a salute as she deposited Kylie onto his bed. “I’m gonna go check your suitcases. Or, should I call them ‘transport need satisfaction receptacles’?”

“Sounds good,” Courtney giggled, and Vixen couldn’t help laughing either.

“That little cracker is hilarious,” Vixen commented, admiring the row of bangles on her arm.

“I know, right?” Courtney laughed.

“Hey!” Brianna said, poking her head back in the room, deadpanning, “That was my nickname in prison. Lil Miz Cracker.”

She grinned, waiting for them all to crack up before disappearing again.

“Before her,” Courtney confided, “I had this other assistant that my agents found, this nervous kid who told me I was beautiful like 8 thousand times a day, and it was just...excruciating.”

“The things you’ve overcome,” Vixen said, shaking her head with mock sincerity. “It’s so inspirational.”

Courtney laughed gaily, handing her a pair of earrings to try, which Jo immediately snatched out of her hand.

“No! Hideous,” they said, handing Vixen a different pair.

***

In the car to the hotel, Brie asked Vixen if she had a preferred gender for her massage therapist.

“Well, I kind of like a more gentle massage, so…I mean, not to be discriminatory, but…”

“You want someone with soft lady hands?” Courtney asked, a glint in her eye.

“Kind of,” Vixen replied, hanging her head in mock shame.

“Wuss.”

“You don’t like soft lady hands?” Vixen asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Well I mean...there’s a time and place,” Courtney explained.

Vixen looked into her glittering green eyes, head tilted, as she continued.

“For a massage? I like it deep. So as long as they can put some muscle behind it, everything’s good.”

“You’re right, there is a time and a place,” Vixen said lightly, “I occasionally like it deep as well.”

“Good to know,” Courtney said, giggling delightedly.

The whole day was strange, an almost out of body experience for Vixen. At times, she felt like she was hovering overhead and watching herself get rubbed and plucked and fluffed and painted. Pampered and catered to on a level she never had before.

But the red carpet, that was the most surreal experience by far, just a whirlwind of flashes and shouted questions from reporters. Courtney held her hand the entire time, checking in constantly to make sure she was alright, gently directing her where to look and when to pose.

“My first red carpet was terrifying,” she confessed. “So when you’ve had enough, just tell me.”

She was relieved, at first, for her relative anonymity. No entertainment reporters would know the academic world, or a political science professor.

That is, until Courtney put an arm around Vixen’s waist and dragged her right into the spotlight, introducing her to a reporter as “the brilliant author behind the book ‘Beware White Tears.’”

“Oh!” Recognition dawned in the reporter’s eyes as she brushed her bangs away from her face. “This is the unparalleled genius you’ve been tweeting about all year?”

“Yes ma’am,” Courtney said. “Vixen Taylor.”

“A pleasure,” she said, extending her hand to Vixen and offering a dazzling white smile. “Shea Coulée.”

“Nice to meet you,” Vixen said, shaking her hand. She glanced back at Courtney, who was beaming like a sunflower beside her.

“Shea, you should tell everyone to read her book,” Courtney said, smile growing even bigger as she continued to gush, “And listen to her podcast. She’s so incredibly smart, it’s unreal.”

Shea looked from Courtney to Vixen a few times before asking, “So…what’s the story with you two, then? Are you like, an official thing?”

“Shh, I’m working on it!” Courtney said, giggling, pulling Vixen towards the theatre. Startling her a second later with an ecstatic shriek of, “Adore!”

Vixen wasn’t super familiar with Adore’s music, but she did know her from Courtney’s social media. Apparently a big deal now in the punk rock scene, standing there in what appeared to be the same clothes she’d partied in last night, next to a tall, statuesque, impeccably dressed young redheaded woman. They looked to Vixen to be an absolute mis-match of a couple, Adore’s date classy and serene as Adore squealed and threw her arms around Courtney, the two of them clinging to each other and chattering wildly.

“Omigod, I love that dress-”

“You look like a mess. Gigi, why haven’t you-”

“Don’t blame her, I dress myself.”

“How was Prague?”

“Fuckin’ wild, man!”

“Have you met Vixen?”

Courtney turned toward Vixen, who was overwhelmed by the whole exchange, and grabbed her hand once again.

“Vixen, this is Adore, my best friend for life, and her very patient girlfriend, Gigi.”

“Hi, nice to-”

“Augh!” Adore shrieked. “Courtney! Did you see the pictures of Jinkx and Alaska’s new kid?”

“No, what?! When did they...have? Buy? What word are we using?”

“Adopt?”

“Yeah, that-another kid?”

Gigi turned to Vixen, sensing her obvious discomfort, and offered a smile.

“They’re always like this. It’s best just to...ride it out,” Gigi finished with a chuckle. “They’re like toddlers. Eventually they’ll get tired and calm down.”

“Thanks.”

Vixen opted to watch the show from the audience, happy that she had Adore and Gigi to sit with. (Well...Gigi, at least. The jury was still out on Adore.) She knew that Courtney would need to focus on her performance, and sitting alone in her dressing room for large chunks of time seemed nerve-wracking.

But after Courtney’s performance, Brie showed up to escort Vixen backstage. They were only going to have a little time to hang out before Courtney had to leave, getting on a plane to Paris to continue her tour almost immediately after the show.  

Courtney was in the midst of changing when Vixen knocked gently on her door. It was quite a look...track pants and Ugg slippers on the bottom, and a metal corset on top. Brie was helping her out of the corset, and though she didn’t seem remotely self-conscious about being topless, Vixen averted her eyes, waiting until she’d slipped on a t-shirt before addressing her directly.

“You were incredible tonight,” she said honestly.

“Really?” Courtney asked, perching on the arm of the sofa. “I felt like it was a bit of a mess. I could kill Mikey.”

“Who’s Mikey?”

“That dancer who went the wrong way during the second verse? I saw them pounding shots, I think he was hammered. Ugh.”

Vixen smiled softly.

“It’s adorable that you think I was watching the backup dancers.”

In an instant, Courtney’s demeanor changed from professional and annoyed to coy and flirtatious, simpering like a schoolgirl.

“Hmm...who were you watching then?

Brie had slipped away by now, leaving the two of them alone in the dressing room. Vixen stood and walked toward her.

“The camera guys, of course,” Vixen quipped.

Courtney giggled, reaching out for her and pulling her close.

“Oh yeah?” she murmured.

Vixen nodded slowly, then smiled again and shook her head. She slid her hands around Courtney’s waist, gazing unblinking into her hooded green eyes. She leaned in slowly, almost excruciatingly so, pausing for a few moments to enjoy the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, heart pounding in anticipation.

When she finally brushed their lips together, she could feel the hitch in Courtney’s breath, a whimper escaping from the back of her throat. Courtney cupped her cheeks with both hands, pulling her in closer, deepening the kiss, coaxing her mouth open.

Vixen followed her, dazed, onto the sofa, where she dove head-first into the moment, finally able to just enjoy each other for the first time in months. She quickly lost track of time and space, thinking only of the girl in her arms, how soft and delicious she was...how she made Vixen feel so wanted.

She kissed down Courtney’s torso, lifting her t-shirt to trail her lips gently over the angry marks from that horrible corset. She began to pull off her bottoms, pausing just before sliding them over her hips to make sure it was okay. Courtney lifted up slightly, watching Vixen through lidded eyes, legs spreading open once her panties were flung to the side. Vixen paused, breathing her in, making her shiver with anticipation as she spread her thighs even more.

Vixen cleared her throat, fingers dancing up the inside of her thighs.

“Remember, I’m pretty...new at this,” Vixen said, and Courtney nodded vigorously.

“I know, I know. Don’t worry.” Her hand wound its way into Vixen’s hair.

“Okay.” Vixen leaned forward, lips barely brushing against her.

As a soft sigh left Courtney’s lips, Vixen took a deep breath. Her desire to satisfy, to live up to expectations, momentarily overtaken by nerves, until she steeled herself. Just French kiss her pussy, you idiot. Stop freaking out and lick her until she comes.  

Courtney was shockingly easy to please, as it turned out. A hand in Vixen’s hair, guiding her, and breathy, whimpered instructions were all she needed to begin unlocking the mysteries of her body.

“Harder, harder…please…”  

Vixen didn’t know why she was surprised. From that first tweet, Courtney had been utterly direct with her. And even their first time together, she didn’t hold back at all from saying what she wanted. But somehow, the shameless way she buried Vixen’s face into her pussy, rutting against her, moaning out commands...it all just made everything so much hotter.

“What else?” Vixen asked, raising her eyes to take in Courtney’s flushed cheeks, eyes rolled back in her head. “Tell me what else you need…”

“Pinch my nipples,” Courtney gasped, “And...yes, god...suck harder.”

Courtney arched up, thighs now pressing against Vixen’s ears, muffling the sounds when she started to moan. Vixen had a brief concern of “what if someone hears” before deciding that she didn’t fucking care. All she wanted was to make Courtney come—a task that was looking increasingly likely as she writhed and shook in her arms.

She flicked her tongue against Courtney’s clit, shocked at how much she was enjoying the whole experience. Nerves melted away; the only thing on her mind was the girl pressed up against her tongue.

“I love how wet you get,” Vixen said, voice low, moving her mouth to nip lightly at her thigh.

“I love how wet you make me,” Courtney panted, then arched up, whimpering. “Baby...oh, god…”

Something about being called baby in this context gave Vixen a deep, unfeminist thrill; she had to pause and catch her breath, slightly dizzy with the embarrassing, intoxicating thought of being called a good girl. She panted against Courtney’s thigh, felt her quivering on the edge before going back to her clit, tongue circling her gently, coaxing out a broken moan.

God, she was a mess. A beautiful, shuddering mess. Vixen hummed against her, sucking on her clit, soft at first and then harder and harder.

“Fuck, that’s so good, baby, keep going…”

Courtney groaned, hips rolling faster, and Vixen complied, listening to her moans, the best music she’d heard all night. She kept sucking, didn’t stop until Courtney’s muscles went slack, the only sounds coming from her satiated little whimpers.

“Did I do okay?” Vixen asked, looking up at her almost timidly.

“You…” Courtney lifted an arm weakly to caress her cheek. “You are perfect. Come here.”

Vixen crawled forward, squishing herself in beside Courtney on the sofa. And as Courtney wrapped herself around Vixen’s body, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to cover them both, Vixen found herself buying in completely, at least for the moment, to the delusional fantasy of them. Of what they could be. Of what a shared life would look like.

She was rudely snapped back into reality when Brie opened the door, an uncharacteristically apologetic look on her face. Vixen sprang away from Courtney on the sofa like a guilty teenager, then immediately felt stupid.

“Sorry,” Brie said, “but we gotta get to the plane.”

“Okay. Just give us twenty minutes?” Courtney asked, a resigned note in her voice.

“You can have ten. Setting a timer.” Brie closed the door firmly.

Courtney turned to Vixen, who smiled sheepishly.

“I’m not really sure why I panicked. Lil Cracker just freaks me out.”

“Well…” Courtney appeared to ponder this for a few moments before reaching out, fingers seeking out Vixen’s zipper. “She did give us ten minutes…”

Vixen shook her head, chuckling.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about that. I’m too paranoid about another interruption.”

“But you took care of me. It’s only fair.” Courtney trailed her fingers up Vixen’s arm.

“Yeah, and you worked very hard today,” Vixen said, and off Courtney’s distressed look, wrapped an arm around her again, adding, “You can owe me one.”  

“Well...I guess in that case, I should probably put my knickers back on.”

Vixen laughed, picking her panties up off the floor and handing them over.

“Ugh. It’s so annoying that I have to take off so quickly,” Courtney said. After slipping the panties on, she leaned her head on Vixen’s shoulder. “Do you want me to text Adore? She and Gigi are waiting for you to take you to the after party, so-”

“No, it’s fine,” Vixen said. “I don’t care about the after party.”

“You sure? Because you can totally go. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“I’d rather just stay with you until you have to leave,” she admitted. “We don’t have much time, so…”  

“Yeah?” The smile that lit up Courtney’s face was enough to make Vixen’s heart burst with joy.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Well...you could ride with us to the airport. If you want.”

“Sounds good,” Vixen said, reaching for her hand.

“And don’t worry, I won’t do anything naughty with other people around,” Courtney promised. “We can just...sit in the backseat and hold hands and gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.”

“That was my whole plan,” Vixen giggled, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Courtney’s cheek.

***

Vixen had to admit that for once, she posted a picture with an understated, tasteful caption. It was just them on the red carpet, which said, “VMAs with my favorite writer.”

VIXEN: Classy caption there

COURTNEY: That’s not what I wanted to say

VIXEN: ?

COURTNEY: Guess ;)

VIXEN: You’re Too Much

COURTNEY: I’m the perfect amount, actually.

VIXEN: Cocky too, huh?

COURTNEY: It’s also possible that I’m delirious after performing and then taking a 10 hour flight.

VIXEN: I read that as “delicious”

COURTNEY: Oh yeah?

VIXEN: You wouldn’t have been wrong...

COURTNEY: So I’ve been told

COURTNEY: (and cocky)

COURTNEY: And I miss you already

VIXEN: <3

COURTNEY: <3 <3 <3

***

As much as Courtney loved performing, there were times when she had to admit how lonely tour life could be. First of all, there wasn’t a single person with her that wasn’t on payroll. And while she liked them all, there was something a little depressing about being surrounded 24/7 by people that were paid to be around you and cater to your whims and humor every single thing you said.

She did a reasonably okay job of keeping in touch with her friends, but with the time differences, it was hard to get on the same page. Except for Vixen, who always made sure she was available at some point in the evening. They’d often just text back and forth, but more and more, Courtney’d been convincing Vixen to FaceTime. And seeing her smile, looking into her eyes, hearing her laugh, just made everything infinitely better.

At first, when she was in Europe, it was late at night, well after Courtney’s show had wrapped for the evening, once she was safely tucked into bed in whatever hotel she was staying. Curled up with her phone or her computer, laughing until her sides hurt at Vixen’s impressions of her grandmother or her crazy cousins. Or, once the tour moved to Asia and Australia, it was in the morning, after she’d finished meditating and before she headed out to meet her trainer. She’d sit on a terrace or in the hotel room with a cup of tea while Vixen sipped an evening glass of wine, head resting on her hands as she listened to Vixen talk about everything from university politics to her chaotic childhood.

Either way, it quickly became her favorite part of the day. It was strange. They’d only met in person three times, but Courtney soon felt like Vixen knew her better than anyone ever had. And as for Vixen—she was admittedly a little guarded most of the time, but Courtney found her to be wonderfully candid. She told stories about her chaotic childhood and her troubled teens. How confused she’d been during most of her college years. Courtney knew all about her large extended family; she was sure she’d be able to recognize them all on sight, based on Vixen’s vivid descriptions and hilarious impersonations.

And then sometimes, when Courtney caught her in a certain mood, or maybe after a second glass of wine, the conversations would turn into something else entirely. Whispered confessions in the dark, voices hoarse, faces flushed with nervous excitement. It never went too far, but it was usually enough to get Courtney good and worked up, close enough that a few seconds with a vibrator after they hung up was enough to finish her off. It was enough that Courtney had lost any desire to be with anyone else, even when she ached with need. She would take a 2D image of Vixen on her screen over a real-life random hookup any day.

Of course, as good as it was, there was always a degree of uncertainty. There were conversations that they probably should be having...what exactly is their relationship, where is it going, are they exclusive? But it had been so long since Courtney liked anyone as much as Vixen, and she had a vague fear that bringing that up too soon would scare her off, so for now, she just dealt with the uncertainty as best she could. After all, the flip side of uncertainly was potential, and that was pretty exciting.

By the time October rolled around, Courtney longed to be home in her own bed, surrounded by her own things. Just the basic familiar comforts of home. When it was time to fly back to the states, she had to stop in New York for some press and a few meetings, and then finally, she was free to return to LA. But at the last minute, on a whim, she decided to make another stop first.  

***

Vixen had been putting the October symposium together for months. She’d reached out far and wide, planning lectures, panels, open forums, and agendas for the break-out groups over two days. There were a million moving parts, and million things on Vixen’s checklist, a million question marks and potential disasters.

But in all of the planning, never in Vixen’s mind did she imagine a scenario where she’d walk out to the podium on Saturday morning and see Courtney fucking Act sitting in the front row. With a pair of reading glasses and a goddamn notebook, rainbow streaks tucked into a librarian-style bun.

Fortunately, after a momentary stumble that she hoped no one besides her noticed, she was able to recover and get on with the agenda. During the first break, she beelined straight for Courtney, whose face lit up as she approached. Courtney jumped from her seat, throwing her arms around Vixen’s shoulders and pulling her in for a tight embrace.

“Hi...this is incredible!”

“I’m glad you...think...sorry, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane to LA right now?”

“LA can wait,” Courtney said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “And I wanted to surprise you. Was that a terrible idea?”

“No, just...unexpected,” Vixen replied with a grin. “You threw me off a little bit.”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you,” Courtney said, chagrined. “I wasn’t actually sure I’d make it in time, my flight from New York was late, and-”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?” Courtney squeezed Vixen’s hands, and Vixen nodded, kissing her softly on the cheek.

“Yeah. But now I have to go back and take care of things, so-”

“Of course! I’ll be invisible, I promise. I just really wanted to hear your lecture,” she said, eyes shining.

“I hope you’re not bored,” Vixen chuckled softly, shaking her head. She still couldn’t quite believe that Courtney would be there listening the whole time. But fortunately, there was no time to stress about it, so she just walked back to the stage to keep the program going.

“Impossible!” Courtney called after her, settling back into her seat.

***

“Go back. Play that part again,” Vixen insisted, tossing Courtney a wicked smirk.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it’s a really important cinematic moment.”

Courtney giggled, lifting the remote.

Vixen sighed happily, leaning against her shoulder. After Courtney had surprised her at the symposium earlier, they’d discussed a handful of date night possibilities before realizing that all they really wanted was just to curl up in front of a movie in Courtney’s hotel room, basking in the simple pleasure of finally being in the same room with no time pressure, no obligations, nobody standing by to interrupt. So they’d made a quick stop at Vixen’s apartment for a few essentials, and then headed straight to the hotel, getting into comfy clothes and cuddling up in front of the TV.

Partly as a joke, Vixen had selected Glimmer for them to watch, and she was currently making Courtney replay the shot where “Princess Lucie” first took off her helmet. It was an absolute cliché: blonde waves spilling over her shoulders in slow motion in the golden sunset, romantic music soaring on the soundtrack.

“Yeahhh, that’s the stuff,” Vixen leered at the screen as real-life Courtney laughed beside her. “Again!”

“I’ll do you one better,” Courtney giggled, swinging a leg over her to straddle her on the bed. “How about a live show?”

“I’m not gonna say no to that,” Vixen told her, grinning, settling back against the pillows.

Courtney gathered up her hair before slowly releasing it, shaking it out, accompanied by lashes fluttering and lip biting.

Vixen watched the whole over-the-top performance before sighing and shaking her head sadly.

“Real life just never lives up to the movies, does it?”

“Hey!” Courtney scoffed, feigning offense, then leaned forward to brush her lips against Vixen’s temple, murmuring into her ear. “You sure about that?”

“Ummm…I could probably be persuaded to hear a counterpoint...” Vixen trailed her fingers up Courtney’s thighs, smiling up at her. Feeling almost shy as Courtney toyed with the neckline of her top.

Vixen’s heart fluttered wildly as Courtney pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She sighed into it, savoring the moment as Courtney cradled her face.

“It feels like it’s been forever,” Vixen murmured, warmth spreading through her chest all the way down to her toes, to the tips of her fingers. She tilted her head slightly to give Courtney easier access to her neck, where she began to layer soft kisses.

“Next time won’t be so long,” Courtney whispered into her skin. “I promise.”

“Good…”

A soft whimper left Vixen’s lips as Courtney’s kisses turned from gentle and teasing to deep and hot, tongue trailing across her collarbone, moving to the other side of her neck, sucking on her pulse point. Her fingers dug into Courtney’s hips, arching up against her.

The movie still played in the background, neither of them noticing that Princess Lucie had begun to sing one of her solos until the music swelled for the chorus, startling them both.

“THE LIGHT SHIIIIIIIIINES WITHIN MY HEAAAAAAAAAAART!”

“Omigod,” Courtney breathed, breaking away from Vixen and turning around to switch off the TV, telling her Princess alter ego to, “Shut up!”

Vixen giggled, trying to catch her breath as Courtney turned back to her, face immediately softening into a dreamy expression as she gazed down at her, making her feel improbably special. She placed her wrists gently on Vixen’s shoulders, a smile tugging at her mouth.

“What?” Vixen asked.

“I just can’t believe we’re finally together again.”

“You can’t believe? I’m in bed with a bona fide princess.”

“I’m not a real princess,” Courtney reminded her.

“Could’ve fooled me.”  

Courtney giggled, hips rolling just enough to make her whimper.  

“How about tonight, you’re the princess?” Courtney murmured, and Vixen felt that dizzying thrill again, the one that she barely ever allowed herself to indulge in. At least, not outside the safe space of her own secret dreams.

She tried to come up with an answer, but her mind seemed to go blank, and so Courtney took her face into her hands, thumbs tracing over her cheekbones, whisper-soft.

“What do you say, princess?”

Vixen couldn’t hold back anymore, cheeks blazing hot as she bit back an embarrassing noise. Courtney sat up, looking both a little surprised and incredibly pleased by her enthusiasm.

“You know...have something that I think...you might like...” Courtney began, biting her lip.

“You have a lot of things I like,” Vixen stated hoarsely.  

Courtney’s smile deepened. She pressed a kiss to Vixen’s temple and then rolled away, digging through a suitcase on the floor. Finally, she produced what she was looking for: a pink canvas bag with a zipper down the side. She placed it between them on the bed, encouraging Vixen to look.

“Anything in there...interesting to you?”

Vixen unzipped the bag curiously, then after a glance inside, looked back up at Courtney, scandalized, stomach twisting with excitement.

“No?” Courtney asked.

“No. I mean, yeah,” Vixen said. “I’m...I think it could be fun. I just—”

“It doesn’t have to be today,” Courtney said, reaching for her hand.

“What if I wanted it to be today?” Vixen asked, tilting her head coyly.

“Then I’d say, your wish is my command.” Courtney kissed her softly. “Princess.”

Vixen felt her heart pick up speed as she melted against the kiss, excitement building inside her. Before she lost herself completely, she pulled away, trying to catch her breath.

“I’m gonna go get ready.”

“Okay.” Courtney placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist before releasing her.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Another self-indulgent fan-fic, this time with Blob and Pyro drinking, fighting, talking, and bonding over bullying a teenager.

This was an attempt to give Blob a little more depth beyond just the crass asshole of the Brotherhood, and show that he’s got some feelings, too.  I also wanted to deal with some stuff with Pyro that Marauders hasn’t really gotten into, especially his death and relationship with the rest of the Brotherhood.  There’s also some discussion of Pyro/Avalanche.  I will forever headcanon original Pyro as a closeted gay man, who had a kind of undefined friends with benefits thing going on with Avalanche (I don’t care how many fantasy Jean Greys he kisses in Marauders), and who still feels uncomfortable being open about it, even if attitudes have changed somewhat. 

Warnings for - Very nasty language, some body-shaming from Pyro, some discussion of homophobia.  Blob says some things that maybe aren’t quite homophobic, but kind of insensitive.  Behind a read-more, because it wound up being long.

Pyro was absolutely not nervous when he knocked on the door of the small habitat building nestled just at the edge of the Krakoan jungle.  It was a nice spot, with one window offering a view of the beach, but the trees providing a bit of protection from tropical storms.  There was a little garden plot to one side, so neatly and delicately arranged that he wondered if the man he was there to see had a tidier room-mate.

He wasn’t nervous.  And he hadn’t been putting this off, he’d just been busy. He’d fallen in with a whole new team, after all, who had accepted him with a surprising amount of tolerance, and he was spending most of his time having high-seas adventures.  Not much time on Krakoa itself, to drop in on an old….friend? Acquaintance?  Former team-mate who could snap his spine in half if he happened to be in a foul mood?  Pyro wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with any of them now.  But he wasn’t nervous.  Sod that.

The door swung open, the view inside immediately blocked by the massive fleshy mountain that was Frederick J. Dukes, the immovable object.

“Hey Fred.  I brought booze.”  Pyro held up the wine bottle like a peace offering between them.  It was entirely possible he was about to get his face bashed in, or possibly smother to death under Blob’s sizable buttocks.  And sure, he’d get resurrected, but he wasn’t keen to go through all that unpleasantness.

“Aww, hey matchstick!  Get in here!”  Blob grinned and swung an arm around him, practically clobbering him forward into the living room.  “Where ya been?”

“Um….dead, mostly.  Yah know,” Pyro quipped, not willing to admit to the relief that was flooding into his chest.  Because he hadn’t been nervous.  He had just been…curious….to see where he stood with the mutants who had been his team-mates for years.  Just wanted to catch up and see how they were.

(To see if they all hated him.)

“Haw, haw, yeah, don’t I know it. You shoulda seen Avalanche cryin’ into his beer over that,” Blob guffawed, pulling him in close and hugging him against his side.  Pyro could smell body odor and coconut oil.

“He cried, huh?”  He murmured, his mouth muffled against pillowy flesh.

“Blubbered like a damn baby.” Fred released him so that he could step back and gasp air.  

“What’d you do to your face, man? You going emo on me, now?  C’mon, buck up.  You only died the one time.  Not like those X-Men, they got a whole revolving door thing going.”

“It’s not emo,” Pyro protested, running his hand over the skull tattoo covering most of his face.  “It’s ‘cause I’m a pirate.  I’m runnin’ round with the Marauders.  We’re wrecking ships and stealing supplies, it’s a blast.”

Blob scoffed.  “You’re running around with X-Men, matchstick.  You’re basically an X-Man, now.”

“The hell I am!”  Now Pyro really felt insulted.  “I’m not wearing an X anywhere.  We’re the Marauders, not the X-Marauders or whatever.  We’re pirates, doin’ pirate things!  Like fighting the military and helping mutant kids get to Krakoa – “ Except that wasn’t exactly what pirates did, was it?  That was more of a hero-type deal.  “-and sinking ships –“ and delivering medicine to people that needed it around that globe, but Pyro wasn’t going to mention that.  Even if it did give him a bit of a warm glow in his chest to be helping the sick and desperate.  He knew what it was like to be sick and desperate.

“Everyone on that ship is a goody-two shoes X-Man!” Blob sneered.  “Storm, that phasing girl, Ice-nerd.”

“Bishop’s pretty cool,” Pyro felt the need to interject.  The man could fight, and he respected that.  He was also extremely good looking, something Pyro tried to not notice.  

“Still an X-Man.  You’re one a them now.  I shoulda expected it after the way you died.”  Blob stepped back from him, shaking his head.  And oh, there it was.  

It didn’t seem quite fair.  Pyro couldn’t even remember what he’d done. What he’d been thinking at the time.

“I mean….does it really matter?” He tried.  “We’re all one big happy mutant family on Krakoa now.  Xavier and Magneto getting all chummy.  Seems like the X-Men and the Brotherhood don’t even exist anymore.”

“Seems ta me like there’s a bunch of X-Teams and no Brotherhood.  They split up all us nasty “bad” mutants and stuck them on teams with the wussy good guys ta keep us in line.  Except when they need their dirty work done, then they’ll send out those of us with criminal records.  I dunno who’s really running the show on Krakoa, but it ain’t the Brotherhood.” Blob slumped down on his sofa, but gestured to Pyro to sit in one of the chairs.  At least he wasn’t being thrown out.  

“Guess you might be right there,” he mused, tossing himself down sideways across the chair, both legs hanging over one arm.  The X-Men were in an awful lot of positions of power, even with the attempts to balance the Council.  And they seemed to dominate most of the island’s strike teams.

“I guess there are more of them than there are of us.”              

“Guess running a school for mutant kids is better recruitment strategy than a creepy dude in a metal helmet that’ll throw his own people under the bus in a heartbeat.  Did I ever tell ya about how he chucked an explosive at me?  And that was back he was tryin’ to recruit me!”

“Many times, Freddie,” Pyro was a little relieved that the conversation was meandering away from his own status – X-Man, Brotherhood member, Krakoan or whatever the hell he now was.  He wasn’t sure himself.  

“Wine?”  He held out the bottle again.  Blob swiped it and held it up between two fingers with another guffaw.

“What is this, matchstick, booze for ants?  That ain’t gonna be thimbleful for me.”  

“Oh, but this is a very special bottle, Freddie.”  Pyro took the bottle back.  “Have ya got a bucket?  I’m gonna be like Christ with the loaves and fishes here.”

“Doncha mean water into wine? That was one of the miracles, right?” Blob came back with a massive stew pot.

“Yeah, but there’s no water involved here.  Watch and marvel!”  He upended the bottle with a dramatic flourish.  Moments later, Blob’s mouth dropped open as the stew pot was half-way filled, and the bottle showed no signs of emptying.

“Ain’t that a hell of a trick. What’s the deal, Aussie?  Some kind of mystical Outback dream-time thing?”

“Nah, just a bribe from a wizard. Bottomless bottle.  Never runs out.”  Technically, Dr. Strange had offered the gift as a gesture to the entire island.  But technically didn’t matter, because Strange had given the bottle directly to him, which meant it was basically his.  He certainly wasn’t going to hand it over to the Council to use in their fancy-pants secret meetings.  Better to keep it among the people, right?  Pyro was willing to share.  A bit.  

“Well, tell Harry Potter thanks. That’s one hell of a gift.”

“Who?”

“C’mon, don’t fuck with me.  You haven’t been dead that long.”  

“True,” Pyro grinned.  But being dead was certainly a convenient excuse for bowing out of whatever must-see pop culture phenomenon he was supposed to be familiar with.  “Sorry mate, I was dead at the time,” usually shut people up.

Blob took the full bucket, downed half in one gulp, and held it out again for more.  Pyro took a moment to fill his own glass to the brim before pouring again.

“Damn, that’s good stuff. Usually bulk wine is pretty crappy.” Fred licked his lips in appreciation.

“I wouldn’t know the difference,” Pyro shrugged.  He’d gotten invited to a few fancy parties, way back in the day when he was journalist/writer St. John Allerdyce and “Pyro” didn’t exist.  But it hadn’t exactly refined his palate.   He’d rather have a full goon bag to himself than a dainty little glass of something aged and expensive.  

“Well, we can’t all be sophisticated gourmets,” Blob said airily, swirling the wine around and giving it a sniff. “French grapes, I’d say.  Black currant, acai, cherry, and just a hint of chocolate.  Probably a ’78 or ’79.”  He proceeded to down half the stew-pot again.

“Freddie me lad, you are absolutely full of shit.”  Pyro obligingly poured a refill.  Maybe he should get some kind of stand for the bottle, or he’d be doing this all night.

“I aim to be full of wine, so keep pouring, toothpick,” Blob laughed.  They lapsed into a moment of comfortable silence while Pyro finally had a chance to drain his own glass.

“So how’s it feel to be back in the land of the living?” Blob ventured.  “Ya know they cured that Virus just a few months after you croaked. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?”

“I wasn’t gonna last a few months at that point.  I wasn’t gonna last even a few days, so…whatever.”  Pyro shrugged.  He still couldn’t remember the moment of his death, but he remembered some of the time leading up to it, feeling incredibly frail, and wondering every night if he would wake up in the morning.  Is it gonna be tonight?  Today? Will I just drop dead trying to walk down the street?  Even if some miracle cure had appeared, he suspected he would have been too far gone at that point.  

“It’s just good to be healthy again,” he added.  And wasn’t that the truth.  Just walking around, breathing the ocean air freely and without pain had been heavenly. He’d made it a point to get laid the first time the Marauders spent the night in Taipei – hadn’t seen any of that action for months before his death.  He didn’t want to touch anyone after the diagnosis (he was a selfish bastard, but not so selfish as to potentially spread the disease), and pretty soon pain and fatigue had meant his cock was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah, I bet.  Ya made a real spectacular flame-out at the end, there,” Blob said, and there was something left hanging in the air at the end of that sentence.  What Pyro might have called a “pregnant  pause,” in one of his novels.  He gulped down another large swallow of wine.

“Yeah that was….I dunno.  I dunno what I was thinking, exactly.”  He hadn’t been able to believe it when Mystique showed him the headlines.  Sure he’d tried to help her save her shitty racist spawn Graydon Creed (a spectacular failure, thanks to X-Factor), but it had still been him playing Follow the Leader, trusting Mystique to know the right thing to do.  Apparently he’d made that final decision completely on his own – turning on his comrades to save the man they’d once tried to assassinate.  He didn’t like to look at the articles – all splashed with that one famous picture of Kelly cradling his dead body.  It made him feel sick to look at it.

Blob just grunted in response, and the silence became uncomfortable.  Pyro sighed.

“All right, you want me to say it? I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for turning on you guys.  I can’t say I’m sorry for protecting Kelly.  I guess I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, and I’ll stand by that.  But I’m sorry for going against you guys.  And especially for killing Post.”  Blob snorted, but held the stewpot out for more wine.

“You were gettin’ real soft near the end there, toothpick.  Can’t completely blame ya, I guess.  You were starin’ death right in the face, and Legacy was probably eating away at your brain. Avalanche said you seemed half-delirious near the end, whenever he went to see ya.”  

“Maybe I was.”  Time had gotten fuzzy back then – long patches of confused dream-like haze, punctuated by sharp, painful clarity.  Dominic would be there one moment and gone the next, conversations evaporating mid-sentence.  He’d lay down for a moment in the morning and wake up in the evening two days later.

“It was just all starting to seem a bit pointless, ya know?”  He continued after another swig of wine.  “All that violence….well, I won’t deny it was fun.  I don’t need an excuse to start a fight.  But it was also for a cause, right?  And things just kept getting worse no matter what we did.  I guess I just thought….if I could change the guy’s mind, maybe things would be different.”  

“Well, ya did change his mind, I’ll give you that.  Too bad he got himself killed right after that,” Fred smirked.  

“Yeah.  That’s the real kick in the teeth.  More than dying before the cure, really.  Bloody pointless.”  Pyro poured again.  

“I reckon everyone was pissed at me, yeah?”  At least the wine was giving him the courage to ask certain questions.

“Heh, yer lucky you croaked when ya did, really.”  Blob grinned. It was not a nice grin.  “I woulda snapped you in half for Post, invalid or no. Lady Mastermind wasn’t real pleased, either.  But you ain’t really here to ask about how I felt, are ya?  You wanna know whether yer boyfriend is pissed at ya.”  

Pyro was suddenly sitting up very straight, tension running up and down his spine.

“The fuck did you say?” he snapped.

“Oh, come off it, man.  Don’t act like I’m stupid!  I know you had this whole ‘don’t ask, don’t tell thing’ going on back in the day, but I figured it out.  We all did.”

“I don’t know what you’re blathering on about, mate,” Pyro said, each word coldly annunciated.  The tension from his spine was spooling tight in his mid-section.  “You’ve been watching too many soap operas.”        

“You’re the one that watches that crap, matchstick.  I gotta listen to you talk about ‘Home and Away’ every time you get smashed.  But don’t change the fucking subject.”  

“What subject?  Some made-up bullshit you imagined in your head?” Pyro’s hands were clenched tight around the glass.  Some logical part of his mind wondered why he was even making a fuss about this.  Times had changed a great deal in the years that he’d been floating in a void of nonexistence.  Iceman was openly gay, Mystique referred to Destiny as her wife, and no one batted an eye.

But still.  When Pyro was growing up, you didn’t say it.  You didn’t dare say it, because it would it ruin you, at best, and possibly get you killed, at worst.  It had been something he’d kept locked up tight in his chest, even when he was boldly and proudly “coming out” as a mutant.  And what he’d shared with Dominic over the years, secret little intimate moments slipped under the surface of their public friendship, had always rested on a foundation of silence.  They didn’t talk about what they did.  Didn’t even really acknowledge it to each other or try to define it.  It was their own special, private thing, and it was meant to remain unspoken.  

And now, here was Fred J. Dukes putting his fat, clumsy, grubby hands all over it, like a toddler smearing chocolate on a cashmere sweater.

“Quit bein’ so stubborn about it,” Blob continued.  “Ya think I’m stupid, that I couldn’t figure it out?  You guys were always slipping off together, locking your door.  Fuck man, I heard you two dumbshits in the shower together a couple of times when we were doing that Freedom Force thing.  My room was right next door, you know.  Haw!”  His laughter was an ugly sound.

“What, were you getting off on it?” Pyro snarled.  “Were you alone in your room jerking it to us, you fat fuck?  Probably the only action you ever see, ain’t it?  Assuming you can even find your dick.”  He paused, suddenly wishing he could hook the words back into his mouth, because he’d basically just admitted to it, hadn’t he? But he didn’t think he could stop now if he tried, with the anger burning in his chest, a familiar, almost comforting heat.  

“No, I was just sick of you both lying about it.  Pretending it wasn’t happening, and making the rest of us pretend, too!  Acting like we’re all idiots!”  Blob was on his feet now, red-faced.  

“Well, you never made that very hard, did ya, Freddie?”  

“Ya know what?”  And Blob had suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder with one meaty hand.  “I’m tired of your bullshit!”  Then Pyro found himself flung across the room, smashing into the wall and knocking crockery down to shatter on the floor.  Maybe he was going to get his spine snapped after all – but the way he felt at the moment he didn’t much care.  

“You always act so superior, like you’re sooooo much smarter than me.  What, just ‘cause you wrote some crappy books to help lonely women get their panties all moist?! ”

“At least I know how to write. Least I can get a woman wet,” Pyro quipped, while trying to climb to his feet.  Hell, Blob had just handed him that one, hadn’t he?  There was a blur at the edge of his vision, and suddenly Blob had grabbed the front of his shirt and tossed him again.

“You ain’t smarter than me!” Pyro could hear Blob bellowing through the ringing in his ears.  “You and Avalanche always acted like you were better than ol’ Fred Dukes, gangin’ up on me all the time.  Well, I danced on both of your graves, didn’t I?  I’m glad you died like you did.  Mr. Smart Fancy-pants, wasting away to nothing.  It was funny!”  Blob was towering over him, fists clenched.  Pyro raised his wrist and sent a jet of flame up at the man, mentally intensifying it enough to hurt as he darted for the door.  

“Augh!  Pyro, you asshole,” Blob roared, slapping at the flames on his clothing. They’d keep right on burning if Pyro wanted them to, and he had half a mind to let them.  Why not have a pig roast right there on the beach?  But in another moment he shook his head and let the fire gutter out.  Perhaps a mistake, as Fred charged out through the door.  

“Don’t think you’re getting away, you skinny little fucker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Freddie, just getting myself a little more room,” Pyro said through clenched teeth.  “Go ahead and come at me if ya wanna get burned again.”  

Apparently Blob did wanna get burned again, because he ran at Pyro, arm raised to swing.  Pyro shot out another blast of fire at Dukes as he dove out of his path.  Blob tried to duck, but it was hard dodge fire that Pyro could mentally send wherever he pleased.  That was one advantage he’d always enjoyed over the fire-producing mutants.  This time it singed Blob’s eyebrows and licked at his shoulders.  Blob howled.

“Cut that shit out!”

“What, so you can hit me again? Ya know, this is why no one likes you, Blob!  You’re always flying off the handle.  Gotta turn everything into some big fight.  I was tryin’ ta be friendly, coming here- “

“Bullshit!  You didn’t come here for me, you came here for news.  You wanted to know if your boyfriend hated ya after what you did.  You only came to me because I’m the only one here who was with the group when it all went down.  The only one let alive, anyway.”  

“I came to you ‘cause I wanted to drink with ya, Blob.  And you started acting like a dick, like ya always do!” Pyro protested, although he couldn’t quite suppress a guilty twinge.  Blob wasn’t entirely wrong…and if Avalanche was alive again, it probably would have taken him even longer to get around to visiting Dukes.  

“You’re the one who started getting all hot under the collar when I was just tryin’ ta talk to ya!  But I ain’t surprised, I know where I rate!  None of you assholes give a shit about me!”  Blob charged again.  Pyro sent more fire swirling towards him.

“You wanna keep getting singed, Freddie, I could do this all da – oof!”  Pyro grunted as Blob ran right through the fire and slammed into him, shoulder first, knocking him back into the well-tended vegetable garden.    

“Pyro, you jerk, I worked on that for weeks!”

“Ya knocked me right into it, ya stupid wanker!”  Pyro jumped to his feet, brushing ruined squash and pumpkin off his uniform.  “I’ve been pulling punches, but if you come at me again, I will absolutely barbeque you, you fat piece of shit.  Then you can wait in line for resurrection behind all the people that actually deserve to be alive and breathing right now!”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me gone, and you all alone with your precious Dominic and your new X-Men friends.  I know you wouldn’t miss me.  Nobody would!  Ya know I tried to kill myself, back when I lost my powers?  And who was there for me?  No one, that’s who!”  

“….ya tried to kill yourself?” Pyro paused for a moment. Dropping his guard was a mistake, as Blob charged again and belly-slammed him several feet away.  It might have done some damage if he hit a tree, but luckily he just rolled on the soft sand.  

“Freddie, wait, what’s this about – “

“It was a fucking nightmare.  I had huge folds of skin hanging off my body. I looked like….like melted wax or something.  Couldn’t go out.  Couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.  It hurt just to move.  I tried…tried to cut my own throat, and I couldn’t even get through the skin.  And none of the Brotherhood lifted a goddamn finger to help me!  You had Dominic holdin’ your hand and cryin’ over ya, ya think anyone spared a thought for me?!”

Pyro clambered to his feet, feeling uncomfortable.  Angry Blob he was used to.  People called Pyro a hothead (and maybe it was just a little bit true), but anger seemed to constantly run under the surface with Fred, coloring every interaction – snide remarks during briefings, playful banter quickly turning into explosive outbursts, laughter that always had a cruel undertone, always at someone else’s expense.  But this was new.  Fred’s voice was shaky, threatening to crack.

“Freddie, are ya serious?  Look mate, I didn’t know.  I was – “ Dead, he was about to say.  But they were interrupted as a sudden telekinetic force lifted Pyro off his feet, leaving him flailing uselessly in the air.

“The fuck?”  Blob slurred.  Something was tugging at him, a psychic force attempting to lift him skyward. Attempting, and failing, as he remained solidly on the ground.  

“Haw!  Who’s tryin’ ta lift me?” he laughed, digging his feet into the sand for good measure.  “Ya must be really stupid, whoever you are!”

The pressure around Blob increased, and the sand at his feet flattened as Blob pushed  down with his personal gravity field.  

“Keep tryin’, Chuckles!  That tickles!” Blob yelled.  

“Hey, whoever you are?  You wanna put me the hell down?”  Pyro called out, from a good six feet in the air.  “Unless you wanna see me blow chunks all over this beautiful beach.”  He’d been tipped partially upside-down, which was really not helping his drunken nausea.  

“All right, that’s enough, lad. We’re just here to break it up, and it’s broken up.”  Banshee stepped out of the jungle, accompanied by a scowling boy with pink hair that Pyro didn’t recognize.

“Aww, are you the one tryin’ ta lift me off the ground?” Blob cooed nastily.  “That’s cute.  Nice effort, kiddo, but ya obviously didn’t do your homework.  Nothing moves the Blob!”  

“I could telekinetically hurl you into the sun, you simple-minded tub of lard,” the boy snapped.  “I’m only holding back because of Krakoan rules. But by all means, feel free to try my patience.”

“Try my patience?”  Pyro repeated incredulously.  “Hey Freddie, this kid thinks he’s Magneto or something.  Simmer down, junior.”  Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to be mocking the mutant who was telekinetically holding him suspended in the air, but booze had ruined Pyro’s already less-than-stellar decision making skills.

“It’s Kid Omega,” the boy corrected, and whatever he wanted to say next was drowned out by Pyro and Blob’s obnoxious, jeering laughter.

“Kid Omega, you’ve gotta be bloody kidding me!  That’s so adorable!”  Pyro stopped laughing as the boy bounced him up and down in the air a few times. “Seriously, ya don’t wanna do that. I’m gonna – “ he interrupted himself by spewing wine and stomach fluids all over the ground below him.

“Gross, dude,” Blob said casually.

“Listen, we’re here because you boys are causing a public disturbance,” Banshee said, hands on his hips.  “Remember, you’re expected to follow certain rules and keep the peace if you wanna stay on Krakoa.  Pyro, I thought you might be better than this since you joined Kate’s crew, but I guess you’re still just as dumb and violent as always.  I don’t think Storm’ll be pleased to hear about this.”

“Aww, c’mon mate, “ Pyro sputtered, still trying to spit the taste of bile and sour grapes out of his mouth.  The wine wasn’t nearly as good coming back up, and his stomach was roiling.  “It was just a little scuffle that got outta hand. We weren’t hurting anyone.  ‘Cept each other.”

“Oooooh, you’re in trouble now, Pyro! Banshee’s gonna tell on you,” Blob drawled.  “Then they might kick you out of their little heroes club.”  

“Piss off, Freddie.”   Pyro would never, ever admit to that particular fear, buried deep under a shit-ton of apathy and forced bravado.  He honestly kind of liked the Marauder crew, despite having tangled with most of them in the past (although in some respects, he really liked them more because of that.)  He knew he had the reputation of being the loose cannon of the group, given how frequently he was reminded not to kill (as if Sabretooth’s horrific fate wasn’t enough of a deterrent), but he was following all their bloody rules, wasn’t he?  He wasn’t keen on getting thrown out.  He’d go stir crazy on the island without a way to burn off all his energy with “a bit of the old ultraviolence.”  

“Don’t think you’re off the hook either, Blob,” Banshee said sternly.

“Awww, whattaya gonna do?  Use Lady Mastermind to force me to be a good boy?” This apparently struck a nerve, as Banshee blanched for a moment.  He’d have to ask Blob about that later.

“Maybe we should, if that’s what it takes for morons like you to behave yourselves,” said the kid snidely.  “No wonder the cause of mutant rights never got anywhere before if it was championed by you two losers.”

“Hey, I ain’t gonna listen to any lip from some brat that hasn’t even grown pubes yet,” Blob snarled.  “I was out busting my ass for mutant rights while you were getting conceived behind a bowling alley at 3 AM!”

Pyro was about to chime in with something equally nasty, when suddenly his entire world shifted.  The beach disappeared, and he was floating with the vastness of space stretched out before him.  Stars and planets that he had never seen, that he couldn’t even conceive of, glittered in impossible colors against the darkness, and it would have been extremely cool, if not for two unfortunate facts.  One – he couldn’t breathe, and his lungs spasmed and choked in a horribly familiar way when he tried.  Two – it was cold.  It soaked through his skin, into his bones, seeming to devour him from the inside.

And then, just as suddenly, he was back on the island, still shivering in the tropical heat, taking deep breaths of the moist air scented with the ocean, the faint perfume of nearby flowers, and the strong scent of sour wine.  He’d been dropped onto the sand, and was lying in his own vomit.  Well, he’d always said it wasn’t a good night if you didn’t puke on yourself at some point.

“Whoa, that was a hell of a thing,” Blob stammered, still shaking as Pyro sat up.

“All right, boyo, that’s enough. I’m not sure what you did, but I’m sure they deserved it,” Banshee said briskly, putting a hand on Kid Omega’s shoulder.

“I made a universe in my own mind, you know.  And I can put people there anytime.  So don’t piss me off,” the boy said, staring daggers at Blob.  

“Yeah, yeah, nice tricks, pink hair,” Blob waved his hand dismissively, quickly recovered from the ordeal.  “I used to work with a guy who can do illusions. You’re nothing I ain’t seen before.”

“I’m Omega level!”  the boy snapped, as Banshee just shook his head.

“i’M oMeGa LeVeL!” Blob mocked, and Pyro couldn’t stop himself from snickering.  

“Forget it, lad, they’re not worth it. They’re just drunk and stupid. Very, very stupid, “ Banshee said.  “I’m giving you idiots your one warning, got it?  If I have to come back out here, you’re gonna spend the night in the drunk tank – which is NOT built for comfort – and spend all day doin’ community service tomorrow.  There’s bathrooms to be cleaned, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, message received. We’ll be good,” Pyro said.  He almost wanted to apologize, it was right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in front of that posturing little brat.  Banshee he could respect, but not this pissant half his age that thought he was the next Big Thing for mutantkind.  There was always one of them running around.  

“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna keep junior here up past his bedtime,” Blob added.  “He’s obviously already cranky.”

“Shut it, or I’ll let him put your minds through a telepathic blender,” Banshee snapped, but he grabbed the boy by the arm, and walked off into the jungle.  There was a quiet moment, while Pyro staggered none too steadily around, gathering up the wine bottle and their respective glasses (or pots), then collapsed against Blob’s side.  He needed something to wash the taste of stomach acid out of his mouth.  And besides, throwing up meant he was entitled to more – it was like hitting the reset button on intoxication, right?  He could feel Blob quivering against him, and realized after a moment that the man was shaking with laughter.

“Can….can you believe that little twerp,” Blob gasped.  “Strutting around with his boots and leather jacket like he’s hot shit.  Oooo, look at me, I’m Kid Omega!”

“I think pink hair is a substitute for having a personality!”  Pyro chimed in.  “Probably jerks off to…..I dunno, what are kids into these days?  Is it still Harry Potter?  NSYNC?”

“Fortnite?  I think?”  

“What the fuck is Fortnite?” Blob shrugged in response.

“Christ, Freddie, we really are over the hill.”  Pyro shook his head and filled Blob’s stew-pot to the brim.  

“Well, you ain’t.  You missed some years an’ I’m pretty sure they brought you back younger.  You’re missing some lines there.”  

“Missing scars, too.”  Pyro stretched his arms out in front of him, as if he could see through the spandex.  Underneath, they were disturbingly smooth, no trace of the marks life had left on him.  Like Blob’s skin, which was almost impossible to pierce.  But he probably had scars hidden somewhere.  

“Hey, Freddie.”

“Yeah, string bean?”

“About that whole….suicide thing. What you said earlier.  You wanna talk about it?”  Blob shifted against him.

“Nah, it…it wasn’t really such a big thing.  Just went through a rough patch, is all.  You know me, I can bounce back from anything.  That’s why I made it so long.  I was kicking up shit way back in the day, and I’m still kicking now.  No need to resurrect the Blob,” he finished proudly.

“Yeah, you got me there.  Me, and a lot of others.”

“Too many.”  Blob shook his head.  “I been waiting forever for Unus to come back, but seems like he’s low on the list. Most of us are.  Same old story.”

“Yeah.”  Pyro had asked Mystique when Avalanche’s turn would come, but she couldn’t give him a clear answer – given that Destiny hadn’t been resurrected yet, it seemed like she didn’t have a huge amount of power over those decisions, despite her position on the Council.  Would former terrorist criminals come before or after the millions of mutants that had died at Genosha?  Meanwhile other Council members’ family and friends got pushed to the front of the line, and Magneto couldn’t be bothered to stand up for people like Avalanche and Unus and the old Mastermind – but he’d still brought back several of his Acolytes (even Fabian Cortez, who, according to what Frezny had told him over a couple of drinks, was the absolute worst.)  Of course Magneto would bring back fanatics that worshiped the ground he walked on.  He couldn’t completely quiet the fear that lingered in the back of his mind – that this whole thing would eventually fall apart, before certain people came back.  

“I guess I was lucky to be a guinea pig after all, otherwise I’d probably be at the back of the line somewhere.”

“Fuck it, man, it’s all political. They just bring back their people, or the ones they think’ll be useful.  I’m lucky I ain’t croaked,” Blob sighed.

“They’d bring ya back, Freddie. You’re one of a kind.  Look, mate, I’m sorry about what I said.  That no one likes ya.  It’s not true.  I like ya. Toad likes ya.  Dom liked ya, even though you picked fights all the time.  I’m glad you’re here and not dead.”  Pyro wasn’t sure why he was being so generous after some of the crap that Fred had said, but to hell with it.  He was probably feeling soft ‘cause of the whole “suicide” thing.  And when it came down to it, he didn’t have that many friends – and his very closest one was still dead.  May as well appreciate the ones that weren’t six feet under.

“Only picked fights ‘cause you guys were always looking down on me, acting like your powers were so much better,” Blob grumbled.

“We only did that because you were always throwing your weight around, pretendin’  you were too good to follow Mystique’s orders, bein’ nasty to everyone – “  Pyro abruptly stopped, biting his tongue. This wasn’t where he wanted this conversation to go, and he was still just sober enough to remember Banshee’s threat if another fight broke out.  He sighed deeply, then poured Fred another generous serving of wine.

“Fuck, Fred, let’s not do this. We’ve been through some shit together, yeah?  We all acted like dicks sometimes back in the day, but it doesn’t really matter now. I’m sorry I said you were a fat piece of shit.”          

“Well, I kinda am, ain’t I?”

“If you’re a fat piece of shit, I’m a skinny piece of shit.  None of us are exactly saints in the Brotherhood.”

“You’re a saint.  It’s right in your name.”  Blob poked at him clumsily.

“Yeah, real ironic, that.  Gran wanted a good Christian name so I’d be good Christian lad.  Buckley’s chance of that.”  

“You get real Aussie when you’re drunk, ya know that.  Can’t barely understand ya.”  Blob was starting to slur now, having gone through the equivalent of several vats of wine at this point.   “But hey man, I’m sorry I said that I was glad you died.  I mean, I was glad right when it happened.  I was mad at you ‘cause of Post.  But it was a shitty way to go, wasting away like that.  You didn’t deserve that.  Gettin’ eaten up inside by your own power.  I remember when that happened to Unus.  He…he died right in my arms, man.”  Blob’s voice sounded shaky again.  Pyro reached up and patted his side – somewhere below the armpit, since he couldn’t reach huge man’s shoulder.  

“Sorry, Freddie.  I’m sure Unus didn’t deserve that, either.”  Pyro had never met the force-field wielding mutant, but he’d heard stories when Blob was feeling especially drunk and sentimental. But he didn’t think he’d ever seen this kind of raw vulnerability from Fred J Dukes before.  He’d blame the wine – stupid wizard probably cursed it with a sadness spell or something.  Get the mutants to drop their guard by making them all soppy.

“He sure as hell didn’t.”  Blob actually reached up and rubbed his forearm over his eyes, and Pryo diplomatically pretended not to notice. “I miss him, man.  He was a real stand-up guy, you know, for a criminal piece of garbage, and he didn’t let anyone push him around.  Don’t think I’ve ever clicked with anyone like him.  And now they’re danglin’ this resurrection thing in front of us, and who knows if they’ll ever get around to him?  Must be worse for you, with Dominic, right man?”

“I sure as fuck miss him,” Pyro admitted, downing another glass.  “He’s my best mate.”  

“Hey look, man, what I said earlier, I wasn’t tryin’ ta –“

“Freddie, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”  Pyro abruptly found himself pinned as Blob swung an arm down around him, holding him pressed against his side.  “What the hell, Freddie, are you tryin’ ta flirt, now?”

“No man, just listen.  Listen, listen man, shhh, listen,” Blob said in what he probably thought was a soothing whisper, while Pyro pushed uselessly against him.  “I don’t wanna start another fight, but I got stuff I wanna say.  I wasn’t tryin’ ta be a jerk before, okay?  When I brought it up.  I just wanted to say that, you know….we knew.  We ain’t that dumb, and you guys weren’t that slick.  We figured out you were – “

“Don’t say it, okay?”  Pyro snapped.

“Fine, but dude.  Listen.  We don’t care.  That’s the important thing here.  I mean, we probably cared a little back in the day.  I admit I made some pretty shitty jokes, but, you know, times were different.  I mean, ‘homo’ was the worst thing you could be back when I was growin’ up.  Until mutants started becoming a thing, of course.”

“Yeah, same here,” Pyro muttered. Apparently this conversation was happening whether he liked it or not.  He downed more wine to try to stop his insides from twisting up.

“But everything’s like, different now. Most people don’t give a shit anymore. Including most of us in the Brotherhood. I mean, it was stupid to ever care in the first place.  We’re already a group of outcast criminals, and we’re gonna judge you guys for wanting to bang each other?  It’s cool if you don’t wanna make out in public or get married or anything, but you don’t haveta sneak around anymore.  I’m cool with it, Toad’s cool with it.  I think ‘Tazia had you figured for gay even before Avalanche came back.  ‘Cause you weren’t drooling over her like Toad an me.”

“She was a perceptive one.”  Pyro wondered for a moment whatever had happened to Eileen.  She had been close-mouthed about her past – and Pyro could respect that – but extremely intelligent, and fun to talk to.

“The point is, it’s a brave new world and all that.  Dudes are marrying each other, chicks are marrying each other.  There’s a whole show starring drag queens that’s run for like, 10 years or something.  It’s all mainstream now.  I mean, I still don’t get it.  Making out with another dude sounds gross to me.  But I ain’t got no problem with other people doing it.”

“That’s real decent of you, Fred,” Pyro said, and he wasn’t totally sure if he was being sarcastic.  This was a surprisingly heartfelt comment coming from Dukes.  “You spend a lot of time writin’ that speech up?”

“I’m tryin’ ta be nice here, okay, matchstick?  And I’m just sick of you pretendin’ ta be straight, an’ me havin’ to pretend I don’t know.”  He trailed off, and gulped down his pot of wine, finally releasing Pyro from his grip.

“Fair ‘nuff,” Pryo conceded. Even though actually dragging all this out into the open felt horribly uncomfortable.  Exposed.  “Don’t expect me to do some big ‘coming out,’ thing or wear a rainbow or any of that crap, though.  I’m not into that.  My private life is my private life, right?  I’ll just….stop trying so hard to hide it, you know?”  

He’d already started to relax his guard a little in front of the Marauders, even picking up a guy at one of the bars that Iceman always dragged them to – although he’d waited until Storm and Bishop had left for the night, and Kate and Iceman seemed too drunk to notice. Iceman seemed to think Pyro was straight, as he’d asked him, with a mix of nervousness and defiance, if he “minded” the first night they went to a gay bar.  That probably would have been the time to say it, if Pyro was a little braver, but instead he’d just shrugged and said, “No worries,” like a good tolerant fellow.  Of course they wouldn’t care.  For all he knew, maybe none of them were straight.  He’d seen Kate give sideways glances to girls, Storm and Calisto seemed to have some chemistry between them, Bishop never seemed to mind men hitting on him at clubs.  But still. A literal lifetime ago, he’d been afraid of getting his teeth kicked in, or worse.  Things were different now, but actually coming out and saying it….it was not so much baring his chest, more like stripping completely naked and handing the other person a knife.  

“Hey, fine.  Do what ya want.  But I’m still gonna make fun of you and Dom if you get all lovey-dovey in front of us.  Not because it’s gay, just because I hate that hearts and flowers crap.”  

“I would expect nothing less, Blobbo.” Pryo took another long drink of wine, refilled his glass and downed it again, until the tension eased out of his spine.   

He supposed it had been stupid to assume that no one noticed.  Everyone living in close quarters, both in Brotherhood safehouses and government facilities (not to mention prison).  They’d all known.  Had they gossiped about him?  Laughed behind his back?  Been disgusted?  

But then, Toad and Phantazia had both hovered over him protectively in the first stages of his illness, when they were all on Empyrean’s private island together.  Toad had even talked about how glad he was that Avalanche could be “there for him,” and wow, there was probably a coded message that Pyro had been too dense at the time to pick up on.  Mystique was certainly not one to judge, and she’d figured him out ages ago. And if Fred Dukes, of all people, was accepting, then…well, it was probably okay, wasn’t it?

“Hey, matchstick.”

“Yeah, Freddie?”

“You and Dom.  Who tops?  Be honest, ‘cause I got money riding on this.”

“Shit, Freddie, I gotta be way drunker for this conversation.”  And he poured again.  The bottle continued to oblige.  

  When he opened his eyes a crack, the sun pierced right through to stab into his brain.  Pyro groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again, bringing one arm up clumsily to better block out the light.  He felt like utter shit, and that realization caused a sharp spike of alarm in his chest.

Sick.  I’m sick again.  

Or maybe he’d always been sick. Because it was all too good to be true, wasn’t it?  Dying like a hero, coming back to life on this magical island where mutants from all sides of the political divide were having nonstop raves and orgies, getting to sail around and play pirate with the X-Men, who accepted him as a team-mate without question.  How could that possibly be real?  Wasn’t it more likely that this was all just the fever dream of a dying man, still lingering comatose in a hospital somewhere?

Except Pyro realized in a moment that he was lying on sand, with ocean waves creating a comforting rhythm just at the edge of his hearing.  And the pain he was feeling wasn’t quite the same as what the Legacy Virus had done to him. His head was pounding like a drum, he ached all over, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get through the morning without barfing at least once – but he could breathe without pain.  He sucked in a deep, cool breath and slowly let it out again.  No coughing, no burning in his lungs, no constricting weight on his chest.  

This wasn’t Legacy, it was a very familiar kind of suffering.  One he’d inflicted on himself many times before.

“Heya, toothpick!”  Blob’s voice boomed cheerfully in his ear.  “Had a little too much last night, huh?”

“Uggghhhhh…..fuck off, Fred,” Pyro mumbled, trying to roll away from the sound of his voice.  Moving made his stomach flip-flop, and he stopped for a moment.

“Haw, haw, ya shouldna tried to keep with me, ya scrawny little light-weight,” Blob guffawed, but he didn’t sound as mean as usual.  Pyro feel something cool being pressed against his face.

“Here man, drink this and come back to life.”  He opened his eyes again, wincing, and accepted the water bottle that Blob was holding out to him.  

“Probably gonna take a few of these, Fred,” Pyro said, carefully sitting up, pausing for a moment to swallow saliva and wait for his stomach to hopefully quiet itself.  Then he began sipping the water cautiously.

“You’ll probably need a couple of these, too,” Blob offered, slipping him some aspirin.  

“Thanks, mate, right neighborly of ya. You’re in a good mood this mornin’ aint ya?”  He swallowed the aspirin and gulped down more water.

“Well, I actually was smart enough to drink water last night, so I didn’t totally wreck myself.  Plus I never get hit too hard with hang-overs. Got all this extra body mass cushioning me.”  He laughed again, slapping at his belly.  “Besides, it was hilarious watching you last night.  You were trashed, man.”

“Well, I had good company, didn’t I?” Pyro looked around, squinting in the bright morning light.  He’d wound up sleeping sprawled out on the sand at the edge of the jungle, just a few feet away from Blob’s hut, thankfully some distance away from the puddle of vomit he’d left the previous night.  He remembered that part clearly – the fight, the encounter with Banshee and that little pink-haired shit acting as Krakoa’s rent-a-cops, some of the heartfelt conversation that had followed.  And then, the night dissolved into a dream-like haze.  Well, they weren’t locked up in the drunk tank, so they must not have gotten in any more trouble.

“Least I know how to handle my liquor,” Blob chuckled.  “You wanna shower, toothpick?  You smell like something Wolverine rolled in.”  Pyro grimaced as he realized that the sour aroma of dried puke and smashed pumpkin was wafting up around him.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”  

He spent a good twenty minutes in the shower, using Blob’s surprisingly luxurious bath products, then gave his uniform a thorough scrubbing, and fire-dried it.  He’d get a clean one from the Marauder later, but he didn’t feel like sitting around smelling like garbage in the meantime.  

Vague images kept floating up out of the haze while he washed, little snippets of memories dissolved in wine.  

…..Blob putting the stew pot over his head and fastening a curtain around his shoulders, staggering around shouting, “To me, my Brotherhood!  Throw yourself under the bus for mutant rights!  I’m a self-important jackass and I don’t actually care about any of you, my loyal soldiers!” while Pyro rolled around in the sand laughing hysterically…….

……Pyro splashing into the waves, yelling back at Blob, “I’m gonna do it, you’ll see!  I’m gonna fight one a’ them sharks with my bare hands, then fry up it for dinner!  We’re gonna have a barbeque right on the beach, yeah.”  Blob was bellowing laughter while pulling him back with one hand, so that he was helplessly flailing around, swimming in place. “C’mon mate, I can do it!  Aussies aren’t scared of sharks!  We’ll kick the shit out of any animal!”  “C’mon dumbass, this won’t be nearly so funny if you drown,” and then he was being hauled back up onto the beach……

…..then he was draped across the stomach of a maudlin Blob, who wasn’t even bothering to hide the tears that dripped down his cheeks.  “It’s just….what am I if I’m not the Blob, right?  You’ve got those stupid books, but what have I got?  I mean, I’m nothing without my powers.  I tried to make it work back then, I really did.  Got my own reality show, got real popular in Japan, but it just wasn’t enough.  I was miserable not bein’ the Blob.”  Pyro was patting at Blob’s stomach, almost kneading it like a cat, in what he probably had thought was a comforting manner at the time, muttering encouraging nonsense,” Nah, Freddie, c’mon mate, you’ve got lots to offer, you got a big heart and a big personality……”  

….then the two of them were chucking the last of Blob’s squash and pumpkins at the trees.  For some reason they were both singing “Highway to the Danger Zone” at the top of their lungs……

Pyro just sighed and tried to blink it all away.  It wasn’t actually the worst drunk memories he had.  At least neither of them had gotten naked.  He hoped.  

“Hey man, you took your sweet time. You jerking off in there?”  Blob said as he emerged, piling eggs and bacon onto a plate and passing it to him.  Luckily his stomach had settled a great deal by then.

“Nah, I wouldn’t be so crass, Freddy. I only jerk off in my own shower.”

“Guess it’s not as much fun without Avalanche, huh?”  And Blob actually winked at him.

Pyro opened his mouth to snap back at Dukes, to tell him to shut up and mind his own damn business.  Then closed it again, because he couldn’t actually detect any malice in the other man’s tone.  Not needling him, just…playful joking, in Blob’s own crass way.  

Instead, he just shrugged and grinned. “Guess so.  Thanks heaps for the food, Freddie.  And the bloody aspirin, I really needed that.”

“Well, what can I say, I know my manners.  I’m a hospitable guy,” Blob chuckled, sitting down to his own breakfast.  “Besides, it’s the least I can do after what you gave me.”

Pyro paused with the fork mid-way up to his mouth, thinking back.  What had he given him, besides a whole fuckton of wine?  

“’Fraid I don’t quite remember what you’re referring to there,” he said cautiously.  Had he promised his services or something?  Given up some of the booty he’d stashed from raids with the Marauders? (He didn’t feel at all bad about that, as the captain herself was actively encouraging them to take as much booze and money as they pleased.)  

“The wine.”  Blob jerked a thumb over to the shelf on the wall, where the bottle sat surrounded by little ornaments, as if occupying a place of honor.

“Oh yeah, well I’m always glad to share – “

“No man, the whole bottle.  You gave me the bottle.”  

Pyro’s fork slipped out of his hand. Fuck.  Fuck!  He hadn’t. Surely he hadn’t been so stupid as to give up a priceless treasure like that, just because ol’ Blob had gotten a little weepy last night.  Surely not.

“Oh hell, I didn’t really, did I?”

“You did!  You insisted.”

And much as he wanted to deny it, there was a memory creeping back into his mind.  Himself, holding the bottle up to Fred with a grandiose air, waxing poetic about how he would be Krakoa’s Dionysus, Life of the Party, Keeper of the Mysteries, and the other mutants would frolic around him like the Maenads. Christ, he really was a pretentious sot when he got drunk, wasn’t he?  (But hey, he couldn’t help that he’d gone through a pretty heavy Greek mythology phase as a kid.  It was just so interesting!)

“I….guess I might remember something like that,” he conceded hesitantly.  “But that doesn’t count, does it?  You can’t hold me to that!  I was trashed out of my mind!”

“Not so trashed that you couldn’t blather on about a bunch of Classical bullshit!”   Blob declared.  “It was damned funny.  And if you think I’m givin’ this bottle back to you, you’ve got another thing coming.” His tone stayed light, but a sharp gleam in his eye suggested the promise of another fight.

“C’mon Freddie, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Look man, I thought this might happen. So I got video evidence.  I got a message from Drunk Pyro to Sober Pyro.” He held out his cell phone.        

“Fuuuuuck,” Pyro moaned, not even wanting to see.  He took a side glance at the bottle, so inviting out in the open.  He should just grab it and run.  Instead, he heard the sound of his own voice, slurred with wine, Australian accent even thicker than usual so that he was running his words against the backs of one another.  

“I, St. John Allerdyce,” the figure on the video stopped to belch, “bein’ of sound mind an’ body, do hereby bequeath this bottle of never-endin’ wine to Frederick J. Dukes, the Blob, forever an’ ever, no take backs!  Be’cause…..’cause….he’s my good mate, an’ he needs somethin’ for himself, an’ I’m fulla good will tonight.”  The figure was bleary-eyed and staggering, but at least he seemed to be happy, judging by the wide grin stretching his face.  

“Fuckin’ hell, Drunk Pyro,” Sober Pyro groaned, laying his head in his hands.  That bastard had gotten him into more scrapes than he could count.

“But!”  Drunk Pyro continued on the video.  “There’s….conditions.  One….no….two! Two…two conditions.”  He swayed for a moment, seeming to look up at the stars before pulling himself back together.  “Condition the first!  You gotta share the wine, Freddie.  Share it like, like I’ve been…been sharing it.  Bring it to all the parties.  Pour for….for eeeeveryone.”  He made a sweeping gesture and nearly fell over.  “Condition the two!  You gotta….gotta give me special access, right?  I get ta come over and drink as much as I want, any time I want, yeah?  No matter what!”  

“I accept your conditions,” came Blob’s voice from behind the camera.  Drunk Pyro grinned again.    

“Then I now pronounce you man and bottle!”  He crowed, holding it aloft.  “You may kiss the …wait, no, don’t put your mouth directly on it.  Everyone’s gotta drink that.”  

“Now make it official by singing Waltzing Matilda.  That’s Australia’s national anthem, right?”  Blob’s voice suggested on the video.

“No, it isn’t, “ said Sober Pyro.

“Yes, mate, you’re exactly right!” exclaimed Drunk Pyro.  He made it through one off-key verse and chorus before fumbling the words and collapsing to his knees, laughing.

“Hey man, thanks for this,” said Blob’s voice on the video, as a hand reached out to take the bottle from Drunk Pyro. And Blob actually sounded a bit sincere. “I really appreciate it, ya doing something like this for me.”

“Well, you’re my special mate, right?  We’ve been through loads together.  And I feel sooo wonderful tonight.  I’m fulla…..fulla love for everybody!”  Drunk Pyro spread his arms out to the stars.  “The world is so bloody beautiful, yeah?”

“Who do you love, Pyro?”  Blob asked from behind the camera.

“Everybody!  All the little mutants, and even the humans, too!  The ones that aren’t too shitty, anyway.”

“Who do you really love?”  Blob asked pointedly.

For a moment, Drunk Pyro looked up at the camera in confusion, then he lit up with the nicest smile Pyro had seen on his own face in a long time.  It wasn’t cruel or sarcastic, not sloppy drunk or wild with adrenaline.  It was the kind of genuine, soft smile he’d described in many novels over the years.

“I love Dominic!” Pyro exclaimed, hugging arms around himself and slumping down against the sand.  “I love Dom.”  

“Oy, you fucker!”  The video switched off abruptly as Sober Pyro made a grab at the cell-phone in Blob’s hand.  “How dare you, how fucking dare you pull that shit!  Fucking shit-cunt!”  

“Hey man, chill out!  You gave me the bottle fair and square!”  Blob held the phone over his head, while Pyro began trying to clamber up him.

“Forget the bottle, I don’t care!  Why would you make me say that!  On video, for fucks sake?  You lookin’ to blackmail me?”  

“No man, no!”  Blob plucked Pyro off with his other hand, and deposited him back in his chair.  “That’s not what that was about!  I ain’t gonna show it to anyone.  Here, look, I’m deleting it.  Geez.”  Blob pushed a couple of buttons in his phone.  

“You were tryin’ to make me say it, though, weren’t you?  Why would you want me to say that?!”  Pyro glowered at him over the table.

“I dunno man, I was loaded, too! I just….thought it would be nice, I guess.  I thought maybe….maybe you’d feel a little better if you said it.”  Blob looked confused, and again oddly vulnerable.  Not mocking or mean.    

“You thought I’d feel better?  Seriously?”  Pyro gave a breathless laugh.

“I mean….yeah, man.  It’s like what we talked about last night.  You’re so uptight about this shit, but no one cares anymore.”  

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Pyro sighed, putting his head in his hands again. Fucking Blob.  Fucking Drunk Pyro, spewing everything out into the open.  

But….it probably had felt kind of good to say it in the moment, hadn’t it?  All open like that?  He couldn’t deny, Drunk Pyro had looked beatifically happy when he said those words, his eyes soft and gentle.  Perfect for a scene in a romance, even if he was absolutely humiliated to see that expression on his own face.  He supposed there was no sense in denying it.  He’d said it, after all.

“Don’t spread it around about Dom, okay?  I mean, I know what I am.  I’ve known for a long time, and I guess I don’t mind people knowing, now that we’re all enlightened these days.  But I think Dom’s still working some things out.  Or at least he was.”

“Yeah, sure, man, my lips are sealed,” Blob agreed.  “So, are we cool?”  

“You deleted that video, right?”  

“Yep.”

“And you’re gonna give me free wine whenever I want, just like you promised, yeah?”

“Of course!  I’m a generous fellow, and I don’t go back on an agreement!”  Blob pressed a hand against his chest, proudly.

“Then, yeah. Freddie.  We’re cool.” 

Notes: Apologies to poor Quentin Quire, he didn’t deserve the crap Blob and Pyro were throwing at him.  I have nothing against the character, he just seemed like the kind of arrogant young hot-shot mutant that Pyro and Blob would have no respect for (even if he could absolutely destroy them).