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therenlover · 7 months

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Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again) Chapter Seven: Giveth and Taketh Away

Pairings: Tav/Raphael, Tav/Raphael/Haarlep, Raphael/Haarlep, Past!Astarion/Tav

Word Count: 6,400~

Synopsis: After some time to think, Tav accepts what she's always wanted, deep down. Raphael and Haarlep are happy to oblige.

Rating: E (+18)

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

Tags: Threesome, Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Making Love, Vaginal Sex, Unreliable Narrators, Memory Loss, Love Triangle (Maybe Even A Love Venn Diagram At This Point)

You can find this fic on AO3 Here or find the other finished chapters on Tumblr Here

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Tav had plenty of time to think before Raphael came to collect her.

She was grateful for it. There were quite a few things on her mind she needed to parse through before facing him again. It wouldn’t have done her any good to go into their inevitable discussion about the party and everything that had happened after without being fully prepared. Still, he could’ve come a bit sooner, if it had been up to her.

Seeing Haarlep helped the time go by. The incubus came down twice a day like clockwork to change out her food, begrudgingly clean the chamberpot with a quick prestidigitation, and treat her to some small talk. Tav appreciated the reserved, polite conversation that broke up the monotony of her imprisonment. Once things were back to normal, whatever that meant, she hoped the easy companionship they’d built could be repaired. Things were bound to be easier once the looming threat was dealt with.

The threat, though… that concept was difficult for Tav to wrap her head around as were the potential outcomes, even with all the time in the world to grapple with things.

In the night she’d press her ear against the cool stone of the cell wall, waiting to hear the crashing reverberations of combat. They never came. As the days passed Tav was almost disappointed when she was greeted by silence on the other side of the wall, but not because she wanted to escape or see her former friends again. No. She just wanted all of this to be over.

Thankfully, things wouldn’t last much longer. The party’s arrival couldn’t be far away now, given all the time that had passed. As long as Haarlep had passed her message along to the master he could clear everything up with her former party and things could go back to the way they were. The way they should be.

She could curl up in his stupidly soft bed with a bowl of fruit and one of the innumerable fluff novels he kept around for her before luring him into the sheets beside her, if only to feel the sensation of warm skin-on-skin again. How had she ever spent months sleeping on the ground in her threadbare bedroll? She’d only been in the cell for a few weeks and yet she couldn’t wait to be off of her straw-stuffed mat and back on a real down mattress.

When Raphael did come to her, she half expected him.

Haarlep was late with her bowl (she’d been upgraded from oat slop to stew as soon as they’d considered her capable of not purposefully choking herself on a carrot) and with every minute that passed she became more and more certain that the day was finally here. She waited with a somehow eager patience on the edge of her cot, letting the hours drift past without moving a finger.

Then she heard the footsteps pause in the hallway.

Tav gripped the thin fabric and pressed herself into the cot. He really had come. Any lingering doubts about her own devotion slipped from her mind.

Raphael opened the wooden cell door without knocking or announcing himself. His eyes glanced about the room until he found her waiting. She greeted him with a smile. He almost… winced.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Tav murmured, tone plain and unshaken, taking in every glorious inch of him. Her savior. His skin was still damp from a bath and his nails looked freshly manicured. Still, he looked as he ever did: infallible from head to toe. His eyes similarly raked over her, taking in her hunched features with a measured fascination.

Shame she hadn’t had the chance to freshen up before he saw her.

Raphael gave her his best stern look but somewhere beyond the storm, his eyes were soft. “I assume you’ve pulled yourself together now that you’ve had time to cool down, little mouse,” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the half-wet strands. There was something almost boyish in the stubborn man as he leaned against the door frame, filled with a natural charisma that both soothed her and set her teeth on edge. It reminded her of how he’d looked the night she first set her hands on the Orphic Hammer in Sharess’ Caress. He’d had the air of someone who knew they’d already won the game before his opponent even knew it began.

“No need for groveling and apologies, I’ve decided to forgive your transgressions out of the goodness of my heart. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she replied, and she meant every crooked, breathy syllable.

The devil let out an unexpected laugh. “There. Was that so hard?”

She pasted that eager smile back on and shook her head. It hadn’t been hard at all. Why had she found it so hard before?

There was an easy familiarity between them that Tav took for granted before. They fell into their roles as easy as she breathed. It was different than it had ever been, though, strangely comfortable as she contorted to him and his whims without a hint of shame hiding in her chest. She wanted this. She wanted him. There was no reason to feel guilty for that! Not now that she knew the truth.

It had been her choice to stay at his side all along.

Neither of them mentioned how things ended between them the last time they’d spoken. Instead, Raphael glazed past it as if it were a one-off argument that hadn’t held any weight at all in the grand scheme of things. Knowing there was no more left to say about it… it was the sweetest relief she could’ve possibly imagined.

Tav pushed herself up from her cot, smoothing the innumerable wrinkles in her cotton nightgown as she stood on steady feet.

“If you’re ok with it, could I go back up to the house with you and take a bath? Please? Or maybe just get a change of clothes, if that’s too much?” It took no effort to pull her gaze away from him and focus on the lines between the stones of the floor. Her eyes followed their twisting paths. They ran anywhere but to him and the waiting expression on his face. “I know I’ve given you absolutely no reason to trust me, but I promise I just…” her voice broke, “I just want to feel clean.”

She could hear Raphael hum in consideration before letting her eyes dart up toward him just long enough to catch his pensive gaze. He looked troubled. Oh, how dare she cause him trouble!

“Never mind, I’m so sorry. I just-”

“I suppose I could allow it,”

Cool, blissful relief flooded Tav’s chest.

Raphael came a few paces closer as he spoke, sizing her up. “Only if I join you, though. For your safety, of course. We wouldn’t want a wandering bat to creep their way in and snatch you up while my back is turned, now would we?” His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he came toe to toe with her.

Tav’s heart thrummed. Her head spun. She batted wet eyes at the floor again, as innocent as the lamb but begging for his sweet slaughter.

“I missed you,” She whispered.

“Of course you did,” Raphael shook his head. “What would you do without me? I can’t exactly say the feeling is reciprocated. You can’t imagine how much work I’ve been able to complete without you there to distract me,”

An involuntary shudder slammed its way through Tav’s body. Somehow, though, she stayed sturdy through the chill. That sturdiness only threatened to disappear when Raphael’s arm shot out to steady her against his body.

She leaned into the warmth like a dog.

“I’m sorry. I can stay here if it’s better for you, as long as you visit sometimes. Or not, you don’t have to. I just want what you want. I want whatever is best for you,”

“Tav, I...” He laughed again, breathy and troubled, but she couldn’t focus on it, not when he had just said her name. It sat so beautifully in his voice. Nobody else could have said her name so tenderly if they’d tried. “Can I tell you something, just between the two of us?”

“Of course. Anything.”

The devil leaned in, placing his lips close to the sensitive shell of her ear. His breath was a gust of chimney-hot smoke on her skin. “I did miss you bothering me.” His thumb rubbed a small circle into her arm. “In fact, at least once an hour I look up from my work and find myself more than disappointed to not see you peeking into my office, trying to lure me to bed.” He pulled his face away from hers. His eyes were filled with fire.

“Oh,” Tav gulped.

“Oh?” Raphael tilted his head slightly. “That’s all you have to say to me? ‘Oh?’”

He was still laughing under his breath. How was he always laughing? She hoped so desperately he was laughing with her and not at her.

“How does it make you feel, Tav, knowing I missed you?”

She felt the urge to shudder again from somewhere deep in her stomach, but it was a warm shudder this time.

“Good,” She whispered.

He smiled his toothy smile. “Good.”

And without warning he was kissing her, pressing his tongue against her chapped, waiting lips, and she was letting him in, wrapping shaking hands around his broad shoulders to pull him as close as she could pretend was unintentional.

He was hot and sweet like summer fruit in her mouth. This kiss was different from anything they’d shared before. Kissing outside of sex was so new. Her touch starved body was so addicted to the sensation that she didn’t bother pulling away for air, even as her lungs burned. Tav could drown there in his lips and teeth and eyes until she died in his arms. When he pulled away, she whined like some poor deprived animal.

Oh, how he liked that noise! His eyes said it as clearly as his lips did.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he purred low, “I’m going to enjoy you until the only thing you think about when you see me is how grateful you are to be mine,” His last word was a growl. Guttural. Animal.

And Tav wanted.

She wanted like she was starving and drowning and burning and ailing and his touch was the sole sure to put a stop to it all. Only his lips on her temple could give her air. Only his hands wandering below her dress to squeeze her rear could save her from the flames. But he was flame too; roaring through her ears, singeing her skin, devouring her whole. She was destroyed in the crucible of his body but he remade her in his image, an idol to the best and worst of his heart. Her very existence was a devotion. Nothing remained of her but the gracious pieces of himself that he’d lent to her.

After everything that had led her here, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tav gripped Raphael’s back harder, leaving behind a collage of jagged, bloody crescent moons. Her breaths came in ragged pants.

“Take me home,”

The devil smiled and hoisted her up, letting her thighs wrap around his hips. “As my lady commands,”

She lavished his neck as he carried her effortlessly through their home, their palace, a house of stolen hopes and dreams. Dark bruises bloomed with each kiss. She could feel his pulse quicken and thunder beneath her lips. Raphael’s nails grew long, cutting into the fabric of her already ratty skirt as he walked, wings ripping through the back of his emerald tunic. He was losing control of himself with every taunting moment that passed.

Finally, she held an ounce of power in her shaking hands.

Despite that, though, his touch was still intentionally gentle. He held her firmly to him without gripping her fragile body too tight. How rare a treat, to be treated so gently while his lust raged on, proven by the growing hardness pressing against her barely clothed core.

She silently thanked him for forgetting underwear when he redressed her all those weeks ago.

Raphael took the stairs two at a time and it wasn’t long before they were once again bathed in the orange glow of Avernus. Its light washed over Tav like a baptism. Had she ever really appreciated the beauty hiding in the Hells? The swirling auroras of reds and yellows dancing in the endless burning skies? She let her lips pull away from the underside of Raphael’s stubbled chin just long enough to close her eyes and bare her face to that glorious, radiant light.

He met her movement with a growl, diving in to mark her waiting, exposed neck with some love bites of his own.

Electricity raced down her sternum and straight into her warming cunt the second he sucked hard against a prominent vein. She keened as his sharp incisors threatened to break the thin skin. She wanted to feel him rip into her, feel him below the surface, feel consumed and desired… he didn’t though. He just laved his tongue over the angry red scratches and pulled his mouth away again.

Around them, the house was quiet. Not a single anguished wail rang out. The only sounds were his heavy footsteps and the mingling of their heaving breaths. Tav brought her mouth back up to his jaw to fill the sudden quiet in her mind.

“The things you do to me,” he groaned the moment her lips met his skin again, squeezing her thigh. “You little succubus you. Spending too much time with Haarlep must’ve turned you into one of their kind, that’s the only explanation. You’ve bewitched me with your wicked wiles,”

Tav’s heart stopped with each compliment. She hung on his every word.

Since when had he been so doting? Taking care to hold her gently, passing out sweet nothings like candies… Had her confession spurred on this new side to his affections? He put a stop to her thoughts as he suddenly shifted the weight of her body to one arm. She opened her eyes to find them in the dining room.

Haarlep was stood near the table and dressed in green again. Their robes glittered as thousands of tiny golden runes reflected the candlelight. They looked beautiful despite the pinched, anxious look on their face.

“Really?” The incubus spoke quickly, curtly. “Now?”

Raphael just continued his walk until he was upon his prey, pulling them in for their own searing kiss. Haarlep sputtered weakly but leaned into the affection just as Tav did. They didn’t whimper when he pulled away, though. They were much too proud for that. Still, Tav knew that look in their eyes as their upright posture softened.

“Yes, now,” Raphael replied. “Join us?”

Haarlep didn’t need to be asked twice.

They moved together to the boudoir, Haarlep’s hands wandering to her hair as they kissed her back and shoulders. She continued her ministrations on Raphael too, using her free hand to unbutton his collar and gain access to fresh skin. The devil was only driven to get them into bed faster with every distracting kiss and touch. By the time they passed through the threshold, though, his patience was waning.

The moment they were safely within the walls of his bedroom Raphael was quick to toss Tav gently onto a cushioned bench beside the baths. When he stood over her with his wings flared he almost looked like a vengeful angel come to deliver her to salvation. How apt. He’d always been her savior, even when she couldn’t see it.

“Do you truly insist on bathing first?” He asked, chest heaving.

Tav took one look at the grime on her skin and gave a sheepish nod. How human of her.

In a second Haarlep was sliding up behind the devil, wrapping an arm around his broad chest. “Don’t worry master, I’ll take care of her. Go make yourself comfortable,”

“Fine, but make it quick. My patience won’t last long today,”

Raphael turned on his heel, quickly extricating himself from the incubus's arms and walking to the bed. He began to undo the buttons on his tunic as his eyes took in the greatest treasures he’d ever owned.

Then the game began.

“Well, hello,” Haarlep murmured as they knelt beside her. “Look who finally rejoined our little family,”

Their voice sounded slightly strained in it’s softness but Tav expected nothing less. Things were still difficult between them and their conversation about Haarlep’s love was still raw in both their minds. They had nothing but tenderness when they ran a hand down her face, though, or when they began to gently lift her dress over her head. She accepted the affection eagerly.

Raphael was nude by then. He settled himself on the bed, angling his body so that he could lounge and stroke himself while overlooking the pair.

It took a lot for Tav to divert her attention away from him long enough to shift out of the filthy cotton nightgown but somehow she managed, letting Haarlep discard the garment somewhere behind them. Nudity didn’t bring heat to her cheeks anymore. Not with the two of them, at least. Being bared down to their basest was so much less confusing than facing the carefully crafted facades each of the three wore, herself included. Once she helped Haarlep out of their robes they were all just skin and blood and bone. Made of all the same stuff.

They were equals.

She brought Haarlep’s waiting mouth in for a kiss before descending into the warm waters awaiting them.

It was sinful, the way the incubus’s hands caressed her skin with the bar of soap, tracing her breasts and the soft line of her stomach, hands creeping low beneath the water but never low enough. All the while Raphael was stroking himself lazily. Tav relished the gentle touch and leaned her back against Haarlep’s steady form. Their own erection was waiting for her, pressing against her thighs.

The second their skin touched Raphael hissed a sigh.

“Careful, Haarlep,”

Then it was Tav’s turn to sigh, because Haarlep was rutting up into her thighs, so close to her wanting heat.

“What was that Master? I couldn’t hear you. I was too focused on this delicious little thing,”

Raphael growled softly, but did nothing, hand falling away from his cock. It wasn’t needed when he could feel every slow, delicious thrust Haarlep made.

“Must you draw this out?” the devil asked.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask for what you want,” Haarlep taunted back.

Throughout everything Tav was silent, letting soft whimpers escape her open lips with each of Haarlep’s taunting touched. She was captivated by Raphael, and from the intensity of his gaze he was more than smitten with the sight of her. After the frequency they’d been together before the party it was shocking to suddenly go cold turkey from his touch. Now, though, Haarlep’s gentility was barely scratching the itch that grew under her skin.

She needed to be dominated, body and soul, and she needed it yesterday.

As if he could tell, Raphael was finally merciful.

“You’re both clean enough. Get up here now,”

“That didn’t sound like a question,” Haarlep teased, “but I suppose I’ll humor you this once,” And just like that, their bath was over.

Tav felt like a naiad as she rose out of the water, body lithe and entrancing as she fought the urge to bolt up the stairs to the bed. She walked slowly and Haarlep flanked her. Their hands roved over her wet skin, evaporating the water with the sheer heat of his infernal skin. Vapor rose around her. She supposed she must look like some sort of goddess emerging from the mist. Raphael was certainly looking at her as if she was.

He propped himself up on his elbows, waiting, expectant.

She paused.

Haarlep didn’t wait with her. They passed her without a thought, crawling into the big bed like they’d done thousands of times and settling in at Raphael’s side. It looked so inviting. It almost looked… safe. Still, she stood paralyzed.

Raphael held out a hand. “I refuse to start without you, darling. This is all about you, after all,”

Tav was stunned. For what felt like the thousandth time since she’d woken, Raphael shocked her.

He’d called her darling.

All at once, the life she’d never dared to dream was her reality. Gone were all traces of fear and shame. She was Raphael’s darling. She finally had a place to call her own, not for now but for forever. She was loved. She was known. There would be no more imprisonment, no more terror, no more waiting. She was a member of the family. She was home.

The last remnants of thoughts about her former friends dissipated the moment she crawled onto the bed, kneeling above Raphael as he and Haarlep took in her form greedily.

Those people she once knew were nothing.

This? This bed filled with two being waiting to adore her?

It was and always would be everything.

She met Raphael in a searing kiss, letting his hot tongue explore her eager mouth. His hands explored more than that, though. It was as if he were memorizing every curve of her nude body, every scar and blemish. Haarlep simply leaned on one arm and watched it all unfold with a slightly heartsick smile on their face. Usually Tav would’ve done more to make the poor incubus feel welcome, but she couldn’t think that far, not when Raphael’s cock was twitching so deliciously below her.

“I want you,” she whined, and he cooed at her as she hovered, waiting for permission that never came.

“What a sweet thing. Not today, though. Today, I want to try something new,”

The devil was unusually gentle as he wrapped clawed hands around her waist and maneuvered her down onto the bed. She blinked up at him, confused. Haarlep seemed confused too as Raphael came in for another kiss.

“You’ve been so very brave, Tav. How I wish I’d seen your loyalty sooner,” he whispered against her lips, pressing his own to hers almost… chastely. “Let us take care of you. Let us show you how valued you are,”

Was she dreaming?

She had to be dreaming.

Raphael’s hands did feel real. His weight above her was solid and sure, keeping her pressed to the bed as he kissed down her jaw, pawing at her breasts. Even his voice was right as it hummed more praise into her skin.

Her wildest dreams blossomed with every press of his lips to her waiting body.

If she hadn’t been dripping wet before, she definitely was now.

Haarlep’s hands joined Raphael’s, gently rolling her nipples between their lithe fingers, running feather-light nails down her abdomen. Tav could barely breathe through the intensity of it all. Where were the five-minute bursts of intense fucking? Where was Raphael’s usual impatience? It all melted away with her mind as Haarlep took a breast into their mouth. Raphael seemed to purr at the sound of her eager whines.

“It’s like your pretty little body was made just for us, isn’t it Haarlep?”

The incubus hummed a reply, sending a wave of warm breath against her sensitive bud.

Tav arched up her back to chase the sensation. She was caged in by bodies on all sides. It was searing hot flesh on flesh no matter where her body ran.

Raphael brought a clawed hand to his cock again while she writhed. There was no aloof joy there, though, no smarmy grin waiting to greet her as she looked into his eyes. He looked human despite the wings and horns. His smile was a gentle one.

“Tell me you want me,”

Her voice was a shuddered gasp, escaping her lungs and tripping over her loose tongue and lax lips.

“I’ve always wanted you. I need you. Don’t ever go away, I think I’d die without you,”

Truths, truths, truths.

Dirty little truths that wormed their way out over all those tortured years.

He parted her folds gently, taking great care to make sure his claws didn’t dig into the sensitive, wet flesh as he brushed her entrance with the leaking head of his cock. “I don’t want to wait for you any longer, Tav,”

And there was her name again!

The things he did to her, the ways he made her feel- up and down and up again. Raphael had been egocentric and predictable and even then she had loved him. Now, though… what could she do but fall ever deeper into the pit of pleasure and adoration before her?

“Take me?”

“As you wish,”

Raphael entered her in a slow smooth movement.

She welcomed him eagerly.

Through her still-parted folds she watched every inch of him disappear into her, distending her abdomen ever so slightly. He hissed as he bottomed out. Beside them, Haarlep shifted, taking up his usual position behind Raphael and stretching the man easily with a practiced hand and a bit of oil from the nightstand.

So this was making love.

The usual grunts and moans were there, yes. They would never go away. Somehow, though, the connection thrummed between the three as they began their undulating dance. Haarlep into Raphael and Raphael into Tav. She felt it in her chained soul. Every movement was deliberate. Hesitant, even. This was new territory for them all.

Haarlep’s eyes seemed almost weepy above the pair despite their nature.

They felt it too.

“Do you feel good, dearest,” Raphael murmured, bringing his face close to hers. There was restraint lacing every word as he paced his thrusts. Tav flushed hot.

He wanted it to be good for her. It was always good for her, Gods was it always good, but he wanted it to be good for her.

She pulled him closer wordlessly and kissed him like she was dying.

His lips curved upwards against hers.

Tav had thought domination was what she needed, something hard and fast to make her feel alive again. Who could have guessed the effect that the opposite would have on her body?

Each push of his cock into her cunt was molten. Every swipe of his thumb over her swollen clit was electric. The shape of his body was branded into her own flesh by pure heat alone. Had it always been like this? Maybe now that she finally had the ability to do more than just wail and drool as he pounded into her she could see so much worth appreciating. She brought a soft hand up to his cheek. Raphael stalled a bit, surprised.

“I love you,”

The devil yellow eyes found hers. He whispered his answer so softly into her skin that she barely made it out over the groans and breaths and slapping of skin.

“As do I, Tav,”

And then he continued on as if she hadn’t heard. As if his confession had been hidden in the bliss of their lovemaking, as it was to Haarlep. As if her whole world hadn’t imploded and burst out in a big bang of devotion the second the words left his lips

She kept that secret close to her aching heart as he filled her cunt to the brim, finally picking up his pace.

It wasn’t long from there. Haarlep was rutting rhythmically into their master and Raphael was chasing his own release just as fervently, but not without bringing her with him, finding that just right spot to slam as he kept rubbing steadily on her oversensitive nub.

She let herself surrender to him as white hot flame filled her.

Tav was on fire. Her lungs burned as she wailed, letting the reins on herself go as the flames raced up to consume her writhing body and soul. She could feel her very spirit lifting, spreading through the steamy air and drifting down in a shower of ash as her arched back fell and her breathing evened. Finally, she was a hero no more. She was an ember flickering ever so faintly in the pits of the Hells. She was a charred soul, wrapped in the cradle on Raphael’s arms as he heaved and settled onto the bed, letting Haarlep begin to clean them up.

Cleansed.

Pure.

She was tainted, yet pure.

The juxtaposition didn’t bother her. Chaos was comforting in a place like the House of Hope. She let the lasting warmth of their connection lull her into a comfortable sleep as she nestled closer to Raphael’s chest, breathing in time with his quiet, steady heartbeat.

———

When she woke, he was still there.

Thick, hazy clouds of steam floated throughout the room, cooling Tav’s skin as her eyes fluttered open to find Raphael’s chest waiting before her. He’d stayed. Her surprise was outweighed by a body-wide calm. It leaded her limbs, keeping her lazily wrapped around Raphael’s large, sleeping frame even as her mind began to wake. She smiled.

It wasn’t every day Tav got a chance to watch him with his guard down. His usually furrowed brow was slack, and drool pooled at the corner of his slightly parted lips, wetting a small spot on the pillow above Tav’s head. She wiped it away with the crook of her finger. He never looked half as peaceful when he was awake.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, she ran her fingertip along his lower lip.

His great wing twitched slightly, letting the silk blanket he had pulled over them fall below his hip and reveal his nude form. Tav breathed him in like a masterwork. Every plane of his body must have been sculpted by some great god of artistry from deep, brilliant agate. Still sweat-slick, he even glistened like a gemstone in the candlelight.

She pressed her lips to the salty skin of his shoulder.

If Tav closed her eyes again, she could almost ignore the blazing yellow sky outside the window and imagine them somewhere far away, some secluded winter cabin in the far northern lands where Raphael’s body heat would be the only thing keeping her from certain, frozen death in the wastes. He would keep her safe, though, and close. She had no doubt of that anymore.

The beginnings of a housewife fantasy had begun to weave themselves into the soft, delicate places in Tav’s heart, luring her closer to her lover's body.

He shifted in earnest now, his body waking with him. She welcomed him in warmly. Her breath was a warm cloud in the cool, smoky air.

“Good morning, Master Raphael,” She purred. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, placing another gentle kiss on his forehead. “Did you have pleasant dreams?”

The devil mumbled something intelligible, snuffling his face into her hair.

“No need to leave them for me. I’m happy right where I am.” She laughed. Tav breathed him in, the hand on his cheek bringing him closer as she relished in the musk on his skin, still tinged with soap and sex. Cherry and gun-smoke and… lemon? Tav paused, pulling her face away from his. Was that bergamot too?

Smoke sat heavy in the cool, clammy, choking air.

Raphael was still only half awake, but he groaned, stretching an arm up to the sky as he let his yellow eyes flit open.

After that, a lot of things happened at once, the first of which being that Tav realized she was not, in fact, in bed with Raphael.

Lemon had been the first giveaway. Raphael’s soap of choice was darker, something laced with patchouli and musk. Haarlep always preferred a cleaner scent. When Tav saw their eyes, with that distinct yellow glow so much sunnier than the devil’s own, it had only sealed the deal. She didn’t move to detach her body. Instead, she lay confused as Haarlep rolled onto their back.

As the incubus moved, though, they gave Tav an odd look, almost peaceful in it’s sorrow. She could hear their voice echo through her skull strangely while she watched his lips, unmoving.

“Thank you, Tavvy. Sorry about this,”

The very moment Haarlep leaned back, baring their body and chest to the room, the smoke around them seemed to thicken. At first glance, Tav had assumed it was just steam from the baths, but as it coalesced into a tighter, darker cloud she realized it was so much more. Haarlep hadn’t smelled of bergamot. This strange cloud had. Vapor swarmed to Haarlep’s chest in no more time than an eye-blink, and then from the chaos, a body appeared, as if it had been built by every wisp of dark that had been hanging in the room.

She knew that body.

In fact, she knew every sinewy curve and bend. She could have recognized his voice in a room of strangers or mapped the planes of his face with her eyes closed. It wasn’t as if his figure wasn’t burned behind her eyelids, doomed to haunt her nightmares, asleep and, seemingly, waking now as well. Things were different in person, though. More feral. More sinister. More… terrifying.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He couldn’t be.

And yet there he was, flesh and blood, upon her only true friend and equal in the world. She’d been found. It was over.

Astarion.

Tav’s heart stopped beating correctly just about when Haarlep’s did, dark infernal blood spraying her face and body as the attacker turned his lean visage to her.

His red eyes softened as they took in her shaking form; the quiver in her lip and the wetness threatening to spill over her cheeks. He crooked his head to the side. “I’ve come for you, Tav,” The monster crooned gently. “It’s alright now. I’m here,”

She didn’t hear him, though, not with her focus trained on Haarlep’s shredded neck and the way their features began to melt into dark neutrality like chocolate on a summer's day. Their eyes, their true eyes, still lemony yellow but with strange, beautiful flashes of red and gold and cobalt blue, found her; soft, pleading- afraid. So afraid. She’d never seen Haarlep truly afraid in all her years at their side. Facing death alone, though, or functionally alone, seemed to be the breaking point. Their lips moved around a lead tongue, soundlessly whispering the only name that would have mattered, and, as the vampire dismounted from their broken body, she watched the last shaking breath escape their slack lips.

Tav mourned with a vengeful, horrid wail.

Confusion marked all of Astarion’s sharp features, his brow knitting together. He extended a hand to her that she quickly scrambled away from, leaving the bed altogether with nothing more than a thin silk sheet to protect herself. Her nudity before him didn’t scare her, only the vulnerability it brought, the access to all her softest, most vital places.

“Tav?” He whispered.

She did not dignify him with a response to her name. He had no right to know it. He had no right to know her.

“I’m going to kill you,” Her voice was a low growl. “I don’t know how, but I will. And I’m going to make you regret coming here,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Where is Raphael? What have you done with him?”

“Oh, come on! We meet after seven years, I come here to save you, and this is what you say to me?”

Baffled annoyance was growing in Astarion’s voice as he prowled closer.

Tav did not back down. Not from him. She was Raphael’s only defense now, his closest companion, and when he had poured her anew from the fires of his heart he had made her strong enough to withstand this, if only for him. Haarlep had too, in their way. It was thanks to the love they’d shared that she was able to stand strong on her own feet again after so long feeling scared and small. She growled like the deeply feral animal she was.

His guard dog. His last line of defense.

“Where. Is. Raphael.”

Thankfully, Astarion didn’t have time to answer before her question answered itself.

“Beautiful job, darling. I can take it from here,”

Her head snapped back to the shimmering entrance of the boudoir and there was Raphael, waltzing in at the bottom of the stairs with Shadowheart’s bruised form dragging behind him by the wrist. She was upright but battered, not that Tav cared. Tears finally fell as relief filled her chest. The chill in the room was replaced with that signature, flaming warmth that followed the infernals everywhere. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it until it was gone.

Beside her, Astarion snarled. His eyes darted between Tav, Raphael, and Shadowheart, never pausing in one place too long as he took in his surroundings.

Tav didn’t risk moving. She was placed directly between the two rival men. If she tried to move back to Haarlep she’d have to move through Astarion, but if she chose to move towards Raphael she would have to turn her back on the vampire. It gave him too many opportunities.

“Welcome back to the House of Hope, Lord Ancunin. I can’t say I remember sending out an invitation, but I’ve been expecting you nonetheless,” Raphael spoke with his usual confident air. Shadowheart groaned, trailing behind. “I think you lost this on your way to find my pets.” He raised the cleric’s limp arm. “Care to take back your garbage?”

Shadowheart replied before her companion could. “We’re here for Tav,”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is! So if you’ll kindly let us do this the easy way-” Astarion took a few more steps towards Tav, but stopped, shocked, as she yanked away from his body.

This was her chance.

Stalled in his surprise, Astarion gave her just enough of a window to wrap the sheet closer around her body and make a run down the stairs, slamming into Raphael’s waiting chest.

The vampire paused. “Tav?”

The devil grinned.

“Checkmate, little vampire. Shall we move this to my office?”

--------

(A/N: And with that, we have gotten to the juicy bit! Thank you for your patience with my infrequent upload schedule, my boss is a bald asshole who saps any will to be creative out of me, but I'm so glad I can continue sharing my writing and ideas despite his existence. On that note, if any writers are looking for a mutual to throw ideas at and get ideas thrown at them in return, I'm your fool! Thank you again for reading, hugs and kisses. Sorry for putting you through the wringer there at the end. It's only a little more suffering and then the joy can start <3)

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Taglist: @the-pale-elfs-love

#fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 haarlep #bg3 raphael #bg3 tav #jac rambles #bg3 astarion #bg3 #raphael/tav #raphael bg3 #haarlep #raphael/haarlep #astarion/tav #ascended astarion #bg3 shadowheart #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3

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encouraging-growth · 2 months

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Hiatus

Hi all.

Today I come to you to discuss something that I’ve been in severe denial of for a very long time: I’m burnt out and want to stop making content. To find out why, continue reading below the cut.

Well, perhaps “burnt out” isn’t necessarily the correct phrase, but rather I’ve been feeling a lot of detachment and even despair regarding my audios/fics for well over a year (more heavily since grad school started last August). I feel like I’m always behind, never able to catch up, never able to get ahead, and, most frequently as of late, never in the mood to work on anything. In fact, it feels like a burden more often than not, especially during the school year (which is understandable, considering, y’know, schoolwork), but even during the summer, I find myself struggling to want to put anything out.

Starting Beautiful Things has only exacerbated the issue. I feel incredibly passionate about Beautiful Things, and I believe in its quality and value and merits of being published far more than I have with any other work I’ve ever planned, started, or finished. But ever since starting it in June, I’ve been operating under the mentality of “I need to get as much done now as I can because once the school year starts, I’ll have to push it aside to focus on schoolwork and OF content.” But then I thought to myself, “Well…should I? Should I put BT to the side when I feel so passionately about it in favor of something I’m not passionate about? Should I unravel all the diligent work I’ve been doing this past month and a half for the sake of something that causes me significantly more stress than satisfaction?”

The more I think about it, the less I can justify saying yes.

The biggest gripe, of course, is the financial implications. I don’t make a *ton* of money doing content, but I average between $300 and $400 a month, depending on MV performance and customs, and that’s a decent enough paycheck that I hesitate to lose it. But again, I just don’t think I can justify forcing myself to produce work that isn’t bringing me joy.

Now, all that said, I won’t be fully shutting everything down and wiping myself from the face of the internet. YouTube and DeviantArt will remain as they are, and the OF will also remain open at a discounted rate ($5/month, which is the minimum OF will let me charge) for access to the audio archive. I’ll still be active on Tumblr, as I have been for a while, but I won’t be creating any new content (outside of Beautiful Things) for at least a few months—if not ever again. I don’t want to speculate too far into the future, but if I see a significant boost in my mental health after a few months of not worrying about OF posting, then that is a bridge I will have to cross.

I do want to extend a massive thank you to everyone who’s supported me, especially those who have paid for subscriptions, and even more especially those who have been around since the Patreon days. This community has been an immense source of comfort, confidence, and validation, both for my writing ability/creativity as well as my personality and even physical appearance. Again, I’m not planning on fully disappearing from the community forever; I’ll still be active on here, and I’ll probably also come onto OF every few weeks or so to let those who are left there know how I’m doing—I just won’t be putting any new content out for the foreseeable future.

I’ll be making the necessary updates to OF and other platforms within the next few days. For now, though, I hope you enjoy the archive, and though I’ll be sparse, remember:

Keep eating.

—EG

#not feedism #update

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sprinklenoodles · 2 months

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Both because I got tired today and because I remembered something, I decided to re-read Everything Stays (But it Still Changes) and also read some of your older oneshots out of curiosity. Or, tried while being tired. Specifically, I will highlight A Togami Doesn't Lose. Also, after thinking about A Legacy Will Be Crowned, I felt it would be interesting. Also read Also, again, I am very tired. I really need to stop staying up till 12am. I'm not a struggling highschooler anymore T-T Side note: Hopefully I will not blabber too much into delirious tiredness (spoiler allert from futer i didddd) but that could be the case. So, lowkey warning maybe? Perhpahs? I spelt that wrong but it looks funny to me right now so I'm keeping it.

Everything Stays- This fic was interesting because it gave some more insight into Kijo. It felt really fascinating seeing his more sympathetic thoughts, after all, he still cares about his heir to at least some degree. Like, how Kijo looks at the portrait of him and Byakuya when the heir won and reflecting on how he never seen Byakuya look quite like that ever again. Obviously, it's clear he's not going to change. Kijo will still be cold, calculating. Also, side tangent, I realized in my tiredness that, one, this is part of a series kinda and also, two... That Really Wasn't Supposed To Happen. One, I actually read a bit of it when it was ongoing and not finished back before I had a tumblr, so last year. And two... my gosh is it long. I will of course read it but also golly gee 62. Big numb (numb short for number heehee) So spooooooky! But I am so reading this in full which, gosh. I think I just need to plan it or chip away cus I can't pull an all nighter like I did with the others hehe. But also not a chapter at a time thing either cus I'll forget stuff. Also, the more I think about it, this might be the 2nd longest fic I will ever read... so far. Winner goes to a freaking DBZ fic I read in middle school that was around like... 72 chapters. So, if I could do that as a more anxiety riddled twerp, I can read this!! It's got my favorite booooooi! BBQ!!!

A Togami Doesn't Lose- Was very short but fascinating to read cus it feels like a precursor to what would become The Heir of Despair. Not fully since so many twists and turns for that fic haven't been revealed. It was interesting though. Can also see the improvement in how you write too just from a year. Like, the deaths in this fic are short and sweet which fits the oneshot format. At the same time though, I can tell that, if written in the future, there'd be even more insight into Byakuya's thoughts, more detail in the deaths, stuff like that! So, it was really cool seeing how far you've come! So yeaaaaah. I wrote wordss :=] I hope the BBkuya was... insert verb here I dunno what else to say now. Or well, TYPE cus words on text do not speak unless they are Microsoft Sam, Bonzi Buddy, or some other text to speech guy who is less cool than those guys and sound like they'd do top 10 vids on the downlow. Legit almost 1am from the time i type this and my golly gee wilikers, batman

so um, same batchanell, not say bat time cus my gosh do i not wanna stay up this late again but also i said that in reverse cus it's actually same bat time, same bat channel and i dunno if that refernece is referencing right now since the 60s Batman show isn't exactly relevant in the minds of the many and um... i put too much effort in this tangent so it's staying SO YEH! >:DD

Those two fics are defenitely a bit on the older side. Like, I'm pretty sure that EVBISC was my first time writing Kijo for more than a few sentences.

And looking back now, how I write him has changed a lot, and for the better. Technically it still depends on the universe, but I like how I write him now much more.

And A Togami Doesn't Lose was a silly little thing I wrote for Byakuya's birthday. And in a way it's like The Heir Of Despair. It's one of the older one-shots I still fairly like.

But TRWSTH is a long fic for sure. I mean, there are much longer fics out there but it's my longest fic. I also have to warn you that it was my first ever long fic.

So, especially in the beginning, the writing might be... something. Same goes for my old one-shots. You're entering dangerous territory there... You don't want to scroll down to see my 2 non danganronpa fics...

But thank you that you are putting so much thought into this!!

#danganronpa #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #asks #AHHH #THANKSS #love your rambles SO much #kijo togami #also don't stay up that late >:(

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nekosd43 · 1 year

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Tagged by @epersonae!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3

First fic - Who Can Say? it's funny to me that my first fic so badly was like "no i don't ship taako and magnus these two are COMPLETELY PLATONIC... or IS IT?" I had bad brain poison at the time that shipping fics were "lesser" art and didn't want to fall in that category... that turned out really good, good job me lol.

Last fic - Someday. the fact that i am one of (checks tag) THREE PEOPLE who have written Fjorester baby-making-sex is literally a crime to me. I literally do not understand. Why is there not more fic of them. If travis and laura say that fjord and jester had a kid in the liveshow next month I am going to be INSUFFERABLE TO EVERYONE AROUND ME LET THEM BE THE DILF/MILF POWER COUPLE I DESERVE.

Only fic for a fandom/ship -Since I have only posted fic for two fandoms and I've been pretty consistent about my shipping habits in those fandoms I don't have any real one-off ships, but You're all I want for candlenights is the ONLY taz fic that is not taako/magnus focused, instead focusing on Barry/Lup. I REALLY liked it and worked really hard on it, but didn't get a lot of love for it so I never really came back to the pairing except as background elements.

Favorite fic in the fandom with the most works - I legit go back and reread I had forgotten I would always love you at least once a month. Legit the perfect fic to me, has basically replaced canon in my brain to the point that I forget TAZ didn't end this way. When people say you should write the fic you want to read, this was it for me, this was THE taagnus fic for me and I've never written anything better.

Fic I wish more people read - Right now it's Come to bed with us good captain because I so BADLY want more people to ship postcanon Kingsley/Fjord/Jester and NOBODY MAKES CONTENT OF THEM. I wrote it hoping to get other people into the ship but it didn't work :,)

Fic I agonized over the most - Agonized is a strong word but in terms of "fics that were difficult to write and yet i wanted to keep writing them even when it was really hard," Wizards and Woodsmen, Beauties and Beasts is easily that. Spent literal years on it, with months between chapters because it was so hard to get my brain functioning enough to write it (most of it was written during periods where i had been let go from work and needed to do Something or I was going to die). I genuinely love this fic regardless, I'm glad I saw it through to the end, but it was a BATTLE every step of the way.

Fic that sprang fully formed - Your scars are a roadmap of your life literally came to me in one sitting after looking at some artwork that a artist who has sadly left tumblr did or i would link it. I had so many ideas for this fic it ended up inspiring me to write a whole magnus-centric scar series, and start a taako one that never got finished.

A work I'm proud of - It's not done yet and I'm still working my way through it but In Bloom with You is a fic that I have spent a LOT of time on and done a lot of work with, especially going back and editing early chapters to change it from a romantic fic into... something else? when Talesin revealed that Caduceus was aroace. Since then there has been a VERY KIND and very vocal corner of aroace fans of Cad (and fjord!) who have adored this fic and have said such wonderfully kind things to me about it and how it has helped them with their own body issues / sexual or romantic identities / relationships with their libido, and it's honestly really humbling and really nice because I also just REALLY like this fic! It started as a ho ho hee hee sexytime thing but the shift over time into this character study that uses sex as a lens to look at otherwise non sexual characters.... idk i honestly think it's one of my best works, even though it apparently also gets me Cancelled in certain corners of the fandom (it's a whole thing)

Tagging - anyone who wants to, but especially @ungarmax !

#writing memes #thanks for the tag!

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gloomysoup · 1 year

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Gloomysoup Updates:

i've come to the realization that i posted exactly One (1) thing ab kinktober a few weeks ago and then never said anything ab it again.. oops. ima be honest i kinda forgot..

i will finish organizing and have something resembling a masterlist for the month up here in the next few days. it may change as the month progresses, depending on what my work schedule looks like, but i will hopefully be able to stay on track and actually post real content 🫡

i'm also hoping to start getting some one shots up that i've been working on, but those will likely go up starting in november, cross-posted on both tumblr and ao3. i have a few half-finished things i've been playing around with and getting feedback from friends on.

ALSO per my chaptered fic ideas:

typically i wait until i have the whole thing almost finished before i do much else with it, however i'm anxious to get things posted sooner rather than later. i know i've gained quite a few followers thru my little peeks at bts of several wips. i've been posted snippets on and off for a while now without actually giving any real content... and honestly i feel really bad ab it. i appreciate the traction i've gotten on this app and i really do want to give everyone what they came here for, despite how i may feel ab putting things out there right now.

i have a few wips that are making decent progress. i have a handle of first chapters almost completed. i MAY start posting them here in the near future, mainly with fics i already have fully plotted out. the others are still being worked out plot wise and i don't trust myself to stick w original ideas enough to post them anytime soon, but i may be able to get first chapters of secrets, stepdads, and daycare out once i'm satisfied with where they wrap up.

all this being said, my work schedule lately has been super fucked up. everything is a big mess and there's little consistency in anything. by the time i get home, i'm completely drained and usually go straight to bed just to get up and do it all again the next morning. we're severely understaffed and the owners are expecting those of us on day shift to pick up evening shift's slack every single time (as if we're not already there all day doing our jobs AND theirs, they expect us to do it on days we're supposed to be off). it also doesn't help that i'm still living w my parents in a sort of toxic environment and desperately trying to get out.

thankfully, things should be getting smoothed out soon. i'm hoping to make more progress on writing and getting things posted as soon as possible. i promise i'm trying. if you've stuck around this long, thank you. i truly appreciate all of you.

that's all for now. keep your eyes out for more updates and master lists to come :)

- gloomysoup

#gloomysoup #gloomysoup writing #gloomysoup writes #gloomysoup ao3 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #omegaverse steddie #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie au #steddie fics #steddie dads #stranger things fanfiction

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yujo-nishimura · 9 months

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"Told you so..." - Part 4

This is a private ongoing fic just for me and @lostfirefly

Since tumblr doesn't let me post it privately I need to share it publicly, but feel free to scroll through the content, since this is just for our own amusement. ;) - Also I finally have a hashtag!

"I need a break!" Buggy gasped, finally reaching the staircase that led further down. He had carried his girlfriend the entire way through the sandy terrain, past the starving prisoners who were barely clinging to their lifes. Buggys long blue ponytail was hanging in his face, sweat glistening on his neck and nose. It had been eerily quiet for some time, too quiet.

Helga released herself from Buggy's embrace and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush an even deeper shade of red. "Thank you so much, my love. I know it wasn't easy for you."

Motivated by her words, Buggy chuckled. "No problem at all. Your admiration made it all worthwhile. But don't think I'll carry you again through this if we have to come back and can't escape down there!"

"Forget about it, I know you'll carry me again!" Helga smiled, fully aware of her ability to wrap her captain and boyfriend around her finger.

"Next is Level 4, the Blazing Hell, I believe," Helga pondered aloud, while Buggy struggled to catch his breath.

Suddenly, both of them heard a noise behind them—a thunderous stomping sound. It was likely more monstrous creatures approaching. Helga was the first to spot them—a peculiar-looking Koala and a Minotaurus wielding a weapon like morning star.

"Damn it, they found us!" she exclaimed, and Buggy swiftly turned around, assessing the situation.

"Should we run or fight?" he asked, knowing that Helga had a better sense of danger in such situations.

"Run, I suppose!" She couldn't finish her sentence, as the beastly Minotaurus swung its morning star, attempting to deliver a deadly blow. Buggy, trying to protect his girlfriend, leaped towards her, pushing her out of harm's way and evading the attack. They both landed in the scorching sand, with Buggy inadvertently ending up on top of Helga, who blushed beneath him.

"Thank you, I guess. I wish you could stay..." she chuckled, and he immediately scrambled to his feet, his face turning red as well.

"You decided to run, and you're right. Let's go. We can have our romantic moments later!" he quickly helped her up, just as the Minotaurus raised its morning star again, poised for another attack.

"I won't let you harm her, you beast!" Buggy yelled, extending his leg to launch a Muggy ball at the creature. The resulting explosion and smoke provided them with the opportunity to escape. Helga didn't look back to see if their attack had been successful; she simply started running, hoping Buggy would follow suit. Hearing his panting breaths behind her, she knew he was right on her heels as they descended the stairs.

"We're lucky they only sent those two!" she shouted, unaware of what awaited them on the next level.

The staircase stretched on endlessly, but neither of them thought about stopping or turning back. They forged ahead, running deeper into the prison's depths. The heat intensified, becoming increasingly unbearable. After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at Level 4, the Blazing Hell. Helga abruptly halted, causing Buggy to nearly crash into her as they reached the entrance to the next level, greeted by a searing wave of heat. They saw prisoners being herded across bridges, forced into labor without shoes, their feet likely scorched by the scalding ground.

"This is awful...!" Helga whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. Buggy gently placed his hand on her shoulder, offering a comforting touch. "I know, but right now, there's nothing we can do. We have to focus on saving ourselves," he reassured her. She nodded, giving his hand on her shoulder a tender squeeze. She was immensely grateful to have him by her side. "Come on, cutie pie. Let's move forward, but we need to be cautious. This level has more guards stationed than the ones above," he advised, nodding at her in determination. "I can't wait to receive all my rewards from you later!" he added, a mischievous grin adorning his face. Helga couldn't help but chuckle, appreciating his ability to bring a smile to her face even in the midst of such a dire situation.

In the depths of Level 5, sitting in a grim and desolate cell Yujo was desperate, her hunger gnawing at her stomach. She sat on the cold ground, her messy dark blond hair falling into her face. Exhausted and starving, she was too weak to even shed a tear. Seeking solace, she positioned herself as far away from Crocodile as possible. His recent assault had filled her with fear, and she dreaded falling asleep. Her stomach growled once again, and she let out a silent sigh, feeling utterly defeated.

Suddenly, a soft sound caught her attention. Something had fallen beside her. Surprised, she glanced to her right and noticed a half piece of bread lying on the ground. "Your stomach is almost as annoying as you..!" she heard Crocodile mumble. He must have thrown the bread to her. Without hesitation, she grabbed it and devoured it, desperate to quell her hunger. She didn't utter a word of gratitude, though she felt a sense of thankfulness. Without concern for manners, she licked her fingers, savoring the leftovers of the bread crumbs. This was the best meal she had in years.

Silence enveloped them once again, and time passed until a warden arrived, carrying trays of food. Yujo's face lit up with anticipation, realizing it was dinner time, or perhaps breakfast time—time held no significance in the darkness of Impel Down. The warden approached their cell, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. He opened a small gap in the bottom of the cell bars and pushed in two trays.

Determined not to miss her chance this time, Yujo rushed forward to grab the trays, seeking revenge for her earlier missed meal. However, her anticipation turned to shock and disbelief as she discovered the same empty bowls and only filled water glasses from before. "What...? Did they forget our meal?" she murmured, inspecting the bowls to ensure there was no hidden food beneath them.

"No. They only feed us here once a week. Those bowls are just brought to mock us," Crocodile's voice emerged from the dark corner, and Yujo cautiously turned around, noticing his massive figure leaning against the stone wall. "But the bread earlier..." she began, a dreadful realization washing over her. "My ration from last week," he replied shortly, a smile playing on his lips. "Why, you bastard? I thought you had eaten my food, and now you... gave me your ration? I don't want to owe you anything!" Yujo screamed in despair, realizing that he had sacrificed his last meal for her. "You're so emotional and dramatic, Missy. You probably need the food more than I do!" he laughed, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. For a moment, he appeared vulnerable, worn out and tired.

Carefully, Yujo approached him, holding the two water glasses, and extended them towards him. "Then please, have these. I drank yours earlier." He reached for one glass and took small sips, holding it in his hand. Yujo sat down next to him, his towering form providing a sense of security. In silence, they both drank their water, awaiting whatever would come next.

#one piece #buggytheclown #sir crocodile one piece #friends on tumblr #yujowriting #long fanfic

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snowbellewells · 2 years

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Finished Work: “The Weight of the Crown (is a Feather on the Waves)”

At long last here is the conclusion to @kmomof4‘s birthday fic begun back in October. I am sorry it took so long Krystal, but I hope you will enjoy!

Summary: Newly crowned Queen Emma must face her childhood friend, now arrested for piracy, and the responsibility to her crown and people weighs all too heavily on her shoulders. Killian may be a pirate, but there is more to the story than others know, and she can hardly bear to betray him now.

This is now (maybe?) almost M-rated in the second part. I’ll let you readers be the judge of that. The last two section breaks are where that occurs, so if you don’t want to read my attempts at a love scene stop at that next-to-last page break.

Link to Part One Here on Tumblr

Also available on Ao3, if that is your preference....

Part Two

They were hardly out on the open sea, barely beyond her kingdom’s waters, when Emma - thrilled though she was to be reunited with her dearest friend and practically trembling with awareness at the feel of his calloused hand over hers on the wheel while he guided her through steering his ship - felt the pangs of guilt creeping into her awareness. She had abandoned her post, left her duty undone. The throne she had been raised to take over, the people she had been trained to rule, all her life, were left behind with those cold, unfeeling sycophants in her absence.

Her breath hitched in her chest, a choked sort of cry stifled inside her before it could make much sound, was either heard or felt by Killian all the same. Near as their bodies were pressed together at the helm against the crisp, strident wind coming off the waves, it was no real surprise he had caught the movement, but more than that, he had always possessed an uncanny ability to recognize her moods, knowing when she was angry, amused or troubled - sometimes before she could fully realize it herself.

“Come now, Swan,” he crooned softly at her ear, his free arm not helping to steer wrapped around her waist as his warm breath ruffled the loose curls blown free about her face by the wind. “Talk to me, Princess… you always could before.”

Emma swallowed, not sure where to begin or quite how to explain. It was the truth; once upon a time he had been her trusted ally - and she his as well - but this flight from her own land had been her decision. To free him and abscond herself, she had chosen that willingly, and she did not intend to make him feel as though he were at fault. Shaking her head slightly, Emma gave no response, though she did lean into his side where they stood together at the bow, relishing the comfort of his embrace on her wrought emotions.

It would seem, however - just as when they were young - that Killian could not leave a problem at rest if it might be within his power to solve it. Merely holding her apparently would not do, even if for several quiet minutes they each soaked up the peaceful stillness in the warmth of each other’s presence after years apart. Yet, after an interval, his low voice husked once again, pleading gently but fervently, “Princess, please… let me in. I have not been away so long as to not know when you are troubled.”

Sighing, Emma turned just slightly, pulling away merely far enough to look into Killian’s eyes and trace a finger across his furrowed brow as he studied her with concern. She felt as if she no longer deserved the title, but the way he called her Princess, the way his beloved voice enveloped the honorific, warmed her to her very soul. Rather than flattery or forced obeisance, from Killian, it felt like the birthright it had always been meant to be.

“You need not call me that,” she finally whispered, looking away with a sense of shame. She could not have stood by and seen him sacrificed, not when she was the only person who could prevent it, but had she instead sacrificed all the other lives meant to be in her care?

“What… Princess?” he questioned, knowing what she meant, but having to be sure, because of course she was the Princess - his Princess - nothing could ever change that. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“I left my people to those vultures!” she spat, pushing from his arms and taking several steps away, to lean over the ship’s rail gulping lungfuls of the brisk, chill air, needing the distance to keep herself from sinking back into his arms and allowing him to soften the blow. “I acted out of my own wishes, fleeing what I could not bear, regardless of their needs. A-and even before that…I was only…pretending. I am not my parents… I could never be the ruler that they were together.”

Killian didn’t hesitate for even a second to follow her, trailing her along the ship’s railing and reeling her into the solid warmth of his chest once more, her nose tickled briefly by the hair peeking from the open collar of his shirt as she clung to his waist, breathing in the scent of him that she had almost forgotten with the years - salt of sea spray, a spicy musk, worn wooden planks, and fresh ocean breeze. She couldn’t help but feel some sort of pressure inside her release. Since her parents’ loss, and their state funeral, the rituals and decisions which had to be made, she had put up a shield, forced herself to remain strong, to cover the fear, the despair, the trembling grief rending her heart in two. She could ill afford to show weakness; she had to embody strength. Yet, there in Killian’s arms on the open water, so far from the court and the whispers and how she had been forced to hide, Emma could finally let go.

Before she knew it was coming, she was sobbing into his skin, melting at the feel of his strong hand gently stroking her back, soothing murmurs whispered into her hair. The whipping wind and crashing waves hid the sound and swept her tears away as they fell. She could finally grieve, and it refused to be held back any longer.

“Let it out, Darling,” he crooned, swaying slightly with her enclosed safely in his grasp, only letting go enough to lightly stay their course with a slight turn of the wheel. He would be there for her in this moment. There was nothing he wanted more. It was why he had returned, risking his mission, his freedom, his very life, to do so. He had known what the loss of her mother and father would do to her, how alone she would feel, and yet how determined she would be to carry on. Never would he have expected anything less from the young royal he had grown up beside. He had missed much in the intervening years, including the joy of seeing her blossom into the stunning woman who had first met his eyes as he was brought before her throne for judgement.

Had it truly been just yesterday? His mind reeled at how quickly so much had changed, and he could only imagine the havoc playing on Emma’s emotions already wrung and strained to the limit by grief and isolation.

Still, there were some things time and distance did not change. Even as children, she had seen him no differently than herself or any of the other highborn youth she knew. He was accepted and valued as an equal, just as he knew she had been raised seeing her parents treat the youngest or most lowly of servants with the same respect given to the highest officials and visiting dignitaries. She had come by her goodness and fair, kind heart most naturally, and it had been nurtured by loving parents who saw that gentle grace as strength rather than weakness. Of course, she feared to fail those whom she saw as her responsibility with her parents’ loss. Killian would wish her to be no other way. Still, he hated to see her in pain and regretted that his capture while seeking to ascertain if she was well had meant such a wrenching decision on her part.

Letting her have all the time she needed (the heavens above only knew how long she had been damming such raw heartache and fear inside) he only spoke again beyond soothing murmurs when he felt her drawing a large, shaky breath to steady herself and her tears finally slowed.

“Emma, darling, please know that I am in awe of you - the risk you took, the sacrifice you made to save my unworthy hide.” Here he crooked his forefinger, placing it under her chin to tilt her face up to meet his eyes. Relieved when she offered a watery smile in return, he continued. “All the same, I do not expect to keep you from your birthright any longer than necessary. Nor would I force you to choose between myself and your beloved subjects who need you. It was never my intention to stay gone from Misthaven permanently…”

Emma shook her head uncomprehendingly, her mussed golden hair flying about her face in the breeze, even as he attempted to smooth it back for her solicitously. “But Killian,” she protested, “you cannot mean to return now. It would be suicide - or madness! They intended to force your execution!”

“Oh aye,” he affirmed, eyes glittering with a banked strength and cool calculation that sent shivers up and down her spine. “I know that is their goal. However, if we find what I have been seeking all this time, I will gain redemption, and we will end their covetous grasping for power once and for all.”

************** **************************** ***************

Emma’s blunt but eagerly intrigued questions in spite of her initial confusion had bolstered Killian’s confidence when he began to haltingly explain the proof he had sought, keeping him far from her for so long. Her brow scrunched in serious thought was utterly charming, leaving him absolutely unable to resist kissing that furrow lightly before he pressed on, illuminating the plot he believed he had uncovered.

In the years since he had known Emma well, since he had set sail with his brother, newly named Captain of his own ship, full of wide-eyed dreams and the naive belief of winning glory and proving himself worthy upon his return to seek her hand, much had changed. He often felt he could barely remember that young lieutenant with the entire world in front of him. Liam’s loss, and the treachery which had caused it, had changed his life’s trajectory. Killian had vowed in the pit of anger and despair that he would not return to Misthaven until he had physical proof in hand; the supporting evidence he needed to see justice done. And he had been sailing with that goal, wandering far from home and comfort, ever since. All the same, when, in some backwater dockside tavern, word reached his ears of the king and queen’s deaths - of the loss Emma had suffered - nothing else had mattered more than reaching her side. Now that they were reunited, it was time he confided in her; she deserved to know the truth he sought.

Even as his words had barely begun to spill from his lips, Killian felt some fraction of their weight lift from his shoulders. Emma seemed to understand their magnitude almost immediately, and looked up at him with unblinking devotion, not flinching or pulling away, but trusting his word without question. She didn’t interrupt with questions or reasoning at all, even when he spoke of the duplicitous nature of their mission learned too late and whom he suspected was responsible. Only when he choked out, voice faltering tremulously, how Liam had died in his arms, did she move at all, pulling him closer and running her fingers gently through the hair at the nape of his neck in silent comfort. His eyes closed involuntarily with unshed tears at the soothing gesture, sheer relief still flooding him merely at unveiling the hurt he had carried alone for so many years.

Her unswerving support and acceptance, the sense that Emma would stand behind him whatever he revealed bolstered him as he began to explain further - painful as it was, it was needed too, like lancing a festered wound. He was finally able to purge the haunting darkness that lingered over the memories of that special, top secret quest to a distant and long-forgotten island, and how Liam’s blind faith in the honor of their superiors had led to his demise. By the time he reached the realization he had come to - that he and his brother had been used as pawns and considered an acceptable loss - and revealed the blackguards he feared were still lurking in the naval hierarchy and the royal court as well, Emma’s fingers clutched his arms with a white-knuckled grip, her lips pressed firmly in a thin line. Yet, though she appeared pale and shaken, she clearly did not doubt him. He loved her all the more for it, even as his heart broke to shatter her good faith in some of those whom her own parents had trusted and she had been led to as well.

“Killian,” she whispered, eyes wide and the tiniest of tremors coursing through her as she looked to him almost plaintively. “Could these same people have caused my parents’ deaths as well? The sickness struck them both so suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere. Would these villains’ treachery truly aim that high?”

Her words struck new resolve into his vow. Though he had long since sworn that he would not rest until Liam was avenged, seeing Emma’s pain, and knowing all too well that the villainy she suggested was entirely possible, renewed his commitment to justice - for his brother, his hero, and for her parents as well. He might still be without the tangible proof he needed to see those responsible punished, but he would get it. He knew it was out there. He hadn’t been able to find it alone, but together he knew they would. He would never stop fighting, and he had yet to see Emma fail.

Hating that his response would almost surely rip open anew wounds that were only barely beginning to heal, Killian sighed before looking her steadily in the eye. A quick, somber dip of his chin affirmed her query as well as his weighted “Aye” that followed.

Emma’s breath felt trapped somewhere in her throat at his affirmation. Those same advisors and nobles who had wanted her to hang this man beside her, his strong arms the only thing holding her together, were likely hiding the villain he sought. Grasping, devious jackals, they had clung onto her parents’ robes for years, snapping up any rewards and morsels they could get their hands on. Did they plot to topple the King and Queen for their own gain? What more could they be seeking? They’d been well taken care of - more than Emma had often thought they deserved. Could they really think she would grant them more? They had to know better… Or did they think she would be more easily misled? Fooled and towed along under their influence?

Her thoughts richocheted around inside her head; her breaths growing more rapid and labored before she even realized, until Killian gently murmured soothing nonsense in her ear, wrapped one arm more tightly around her shoulder and lead her over to where she could sit on a large barrel near his place at the wheel.

Suddenly though, she did not wish to be soothed. She wanted to charge back into her kingdom, into the throne room and demand the truth. Challenge them all, look them in the eyes, and discover any who had actually dared to repay her mother and father’s mercy and kindness with murder. She couldn’t bear to let the indignant fire burn low. It was not to be borne!

Once more it seemed he could read her mind. “Emma, love, I know the anger you’re feeling,” he began gently, not coddling her, but lingering within reach the moment she needed him. “Your parents were the best people I know… outside of Liam… and yourself, of course.”

She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered at Killian’s warmth and sincerity in that admission, even as her ire rose again when he continued.

“They did not deserve such repayment for their generosity - nor did Liam in his trust and dedication. But do not give all over to vengeance. It’s a dangerous slope I have nearly fallen down too many times since Liam’s death. We must be strong, Love. We will see justice done, I swear it. But I will not see you lose who you are in the process.”

Tears burned against the back of her lids as she blinked rapidly, determined not to let more fall. She wondered almost dazedly how there could be any water left within her to cry. For months now, ever since her mother had followed her father into unconsciousness and it became frightfully clear they might not recover, that she might never again see their eyes open to gaze on her with the loving, doting expressions she had taken for granted all her life, she had felt so alone. She had held her head high as they planned the funeral service, chosen their final robes and garb, accepted expressions of loyalty and support from foreign leaders, and weathered suggestions and criticism from her own counsel. Through it all, she had held fast like a rock outcropping in a raging sea, buffetted and struck by waves over and again, yet unmoved, though she felt the wearing pressure with each strike. To have him there before her now, blue gaze burning intensely into her own, hands clasping hers tightly as if to even more fervently impress upon her the sincerity of his words. His vow was sealed, he would not be swayed whatever might come, and for Emma that was more than enough, more than she could have looked for. After barely holding the tattered pieces of her life together for so long with just her own two trembling hands, his support, his added strength, was everything to her in that moment.

And so, when he bent his head to lightly kiss her brow in reassurance, Emma tipped her head back, pushed up onto her toes and brought her lips to meet his instead. Her unexpected fervor lent her unerring accuracy, and as their mouths met, Emma felt a sense of rightness unlike any she had ever known. A shudder ran through Killian at the show of passion, but he didn’t pull away, with a low rumble of pleasure in his chest, he gathered her to himself and pressed further, delving into the kiss with a fire that stole her remaining breath.

There emblazoned against the sun burning on the far horizon, Princess Emma’s roiling, storm-tossed world righted itself again. She could see the course before her, with her pirate at the helm, standing at his side. And together, they would not fail.

************** ******************************* *************

It was some months later yet, when they sailed into Misthaven’s port once more. As Killian’s ship jauntily sliced through the lapping waves of the bustling harbor, seagulls crying overhead and his crewmen calling out to those on shore as they tossed out lines and manuevered toward an empty berth, Emma stood at the rail, eyes wide to take in every detail of her beloved homeland, anxious to see if there had been any noticeable changes. The salt breeze lifted her loose blond hair off her neck, and she turned her face into it, savoring the crisp, invigorating air and the freedom it whispered to her.

In truth, if she had not felt so responsible for things here, were she not duty bound to return and see wrongs made right, she would have stayed at sea with Killian forever. The shipboard life had more than agreed with her as days, and then weeks, had rolled by - it had been exhilarating.

And, with a wry smile and knowing shake of the head, she conceded to herself as she glanced down at the looser, lighter garb she wore, Emma found herself humorously wondering if any of those in the cabinet she had left behind would even recognize her. She had to admit to herself that she did look more like the buccaneers around her on the Jolly’s deck than the sheltered princess she had been when she left.

She had never imagined herself leaving Misthaven at all, but now it felt strange returning to her home. Perhaps the real truth was that her home had shifted. She let her gaze scan the wooden planks and spars until they found Killian’s form standing tall, directing his men, manning the wheel; capable, in chage, and electrically commanding all her attention the moment her eyes rested on his beloved face. Home was with him now; she had cast her lot as clearly as he had his own.

And then before she knew it, they were disembarking, her hand resting warily on Killian’s arm, alert to be sure none would move to take him from her before they had said their piece. His men remained with the ship, watching over it steadfastly until their captain returned, knowing none would dare board or try to take her from them.

All eyes on the long dock turned toward their wayward ruler as she walked on the arm of a known brigand, a criminal whose visage they must surely have seen gracing wanted posters from here to the castle. As they stepped off the gangplank, Emma forced herself to hold the gaze of any who met hers, to carry herself, not only as the returning monarch of her realm, but as the pirate queen she had just begun to find within.

She could feel Killian’s muscles tense beneath her fingers, coiled and ready for action at the slightest provocation or mere hint of a threat toward her. Even by touching only his wiry forearm, she took comfort in the vigilance and surety he radiated - even moreso as he placed his hook in clear view of any who might approach them. The false casualty of the way he held himself sent as clear a message as anything could that neither of them were to be trifled with - and that he had the ability to back up his unspoken threat.

The crowd along the wharf parted for them on either side as they made their way along the streets to the path which would lead them all the way to her castle. Emma could feel countless stares peppering her skin, but she merely kept her face forward, standing tall, her hand on Killian’s arm as they passed through the throng determined not to let any of her nerves or uncertainty show.

It seemed to take no time to reach their destination, and looking up at the familiar walls of strong, unyielding stone, Emma marveled that though it had been months, and she felt changed to her very core, the castle keep seemed as it ever had - unaltered in its grandeur, and familiar as if it had merely been awaiting her return. They were let in immediately by many of the same guards who had watched over Emma and her family all of her life, and though she stiffened at the mistrustful, cold stares directed her pirate’s way, no worse action followed, and they entered unmolested.

Emma knew the way, and she did not hesitate. She felt emotion rising deep inside her, but it was not fear of what they would face next, or fear of not being welcomed back to her rightful place. Instead, it was righteous anger and the churning in her gut calling for vindication - for Liam Jones, for her parents… and for Killian himself. They had found their proof at last, gained testimony form a witness who confirmed what Killian had always suspected. Vipers in their court, posing as friends while wrecking havoc and setting up a future for themselves, no matter the cost to those sacrificed on the way.

As they reached the Grand Hall, she clutching the vial in her hand and Killian with sworn witness statement in his grasp, Emma stormed into the council meeting she knew would be in progress. She would not wait, nor give the culprits any chance to sneak off and avoid capture. They had surprise on their side, and they would rapidly lose that as word traveled of their arrival.

The mammoth wooden doors swung back with a dull thud against the stone wall as Emma charged through, heedless of the commotion, and headed right into the midst of her arguing, overdressed advisors. Marching forward, she didn’t stop until she came to a halt right at the end of the large table where the others sat. Her green eyes flashed with righteous lightning, her lithe form straight and proud, and her shoulders back as she stared them all down with a magnificence that stole Killian’s breath. He could not take his eyes off her.

Her “Uncle” Grumpy stood awkwardly, spluttering and starting off, “Now, see here…”

But it was not the angry man or his nervous looking brothers who held Emma’s attention. She was busy watching the reactions of Lady Bleu and Sir Sidney in particular. While Granny Lucas, and even traditional old Marco, at least had the decency to express their joy and relief at seeing her home and well, Emma studied the furtive glances and anxious squirming that sought to go unnoticed in those she already knew were guilty.

And when Lady Bleu stood from her seat at the head of the table, facing Emma, clearly having become council head in the new queen’s absence, opened her mouth to begin a falsely gentle reprimand about how things were done and barging in to disrupt a meeting’s progress, Emma was ready.

Though he had been searching longer, had given so much of himself, and had every bit as strong and just a claim, Killian only stood at her shoulder, a silent, firm support as she faced them all down. He knew she must show strength and leadership here, to take back what was rightfully hers from those who had plotted to wrest it away.

“You lost sight of ‘how we do things’ long ago,” Emma warned in a voice that brooked no condescension or subterfuge, not anymore. Holding up the vial in her hand, containing the poison for all those gathered to see. “This would not exist otherwise. My parents would still be here to guide us, as would Captain Liam Jones of their royal navy,” she intoned gravely.

It was obvious to all how Lady Bleu’s admonishments died on her tongure, and she sank wordlessly to her seat; not to mention how all color drained from Sir Sidney’s visage. Not a word or sound escaped his uselessly opening and closing mouth.

They had a captive audience then, and were not interrupted as Emma placed the deadly vial on the table and explained just what it could do - the damage it had already done. Even as she then ceded the floor to Killian to explain his part of the tale, one which went back much further than she knew, none of their listeners moved or seemed to breathe. Their claims from months ago that still rang in Emma’s ear and haunted her nightmares - that he was only a filthy, marauding pirate, not even deserving to live - seemed forgotten in the wake of the revelations and evidence he laid before them. Finally they knew, as Emma always had, that he had only deserted because his orders, his superiors, had been corrupt. He had gone rogue to find the truth and make things right.

In light of the knowledge they had procured, it did not take the rest of the council long to find the conspirators for the crown guilty, leading them away until they could be tried. Perhaps it made Emma cruel, but she could not deny the satisfaction she felt at Lady Bleu, Sir Sidney, and a few keys others she knew less well, being led away to the cells as Killian had been not so very long ago.

Looking over to him, Emma found her sailor already watching her with an awed and peaceful look in his eye - one she had not seen since he and his brother set sail on that fateful mission years ago. It was finally done. He had seen his vow fulfilled.

Tears started in the corner of Emma’s eyes, though they didn’t yet fall. She had not known to make such a vow, but the image of her mother’s kind hearted, hopeful face swam before her eyes just then, remembering all the times Queen Snow had told her daughter about their duty to their people, the privilege and honor they enjoyed, and the care and respect their subjects were due in return. To think that some of those Snow had most trusted in her mission to rule an honest and fair kingdom had betrayed her; had plotted the demise of one so pure of heart and devoted to their well-being, sliced Emma’s heart open anew. Yet, to think that she had aided in some small measure in seeing that poisonous root dug out and exposed once and for all… it was the best thing she could have done to honor her mother’s memory.

Killian’s face clearly showed he could read her thoughts and understood them only too well. They lingered just long enough to see that things would be stable until morning - and to be certain all were fully aware of Captain Jones’ full pardon, before they excused themselves for the night. Exhaustion both physical and mental was beginning to take hold, and there would be much more yet to do on the morrow.

It had been a long and arduous journey, but they could at last drop anchor and draw breath in peace. As they slipped below deck into his cabin, Emma drew strength from that, and for the moment let it be enough.

*************** ********************************* **************

Below decks as her captain lit a lamp and some candles to flicker gently against the darkness, and Emma could once more feel the easy rocking of the waves she had grown to love, tension and worry slid from her shoulders like a discarded cloak. She watched Killian move gracefully about the small space while she stood near his bunk, simply drinking him in with wide eyes, finally believing that the worst battle had been won, and they were still together, standing in his sacred space, readily made hers as well.

His gaze found hers across the room, and though there was still an echo of long-held grief within his eyes, there was affection and the sparkle of dawning joy in the stunning blue as well. A smile lifted one corner of his lips as he made his way toward her, one Emma returned with warmth suffusing her at his look and her heart fluttering madly in her chest.

He had long since discarded his leather great coat over the back of a chair, but now one-handed he was deftly unbuttoning the last few buttons he had bothered with at all, and his loose shirt fell open, exposing the dark hair that trailed down his firm stomach, the sight making Emma’s mouth go dry. Though she had been presented when she came of age, courted and wooed by eligible young royals and nobles from far and wide, she was still largely innocent when it came to men, Killian standing before her in his open shirt and simple breeches the most undressed she had ever seen one - anything else she knew came from extremely furtive research in the castle library and her own imagination.

Until this very moment in fact, when she found herself lightheaded and dizzy with what she could only assume was true need and desire, she had never wanted to see more of anyone else; her memories and dreams of the man standing before her now had been enough. Her pulse pounded wildly, hammering at her temple as he continued drawing closer, holding her in his thrall, until he soundlessly came to a halt right in front of her.

“Are you alright, Emma?” he murmured, bending to peer into her face more closely, concern at her speechlessness and rapid breathing clear on his countenance as he delicately brushed a stray hair back from her face.

She tried to find her voice, but still found herself nodding mutely in response; eyes drinking him in ravenously, but her mouth dry with nervous surprise and giddy anticipation; her tongue seemingly fused to the roof of her mouth.

“My Princess,” he added, his voice as much a caress as his fingers over the apple of her cheek, trailing down her neck, and skimming across her collarbone. The rough callouses from years hauling ropes, gripping the wheel, manning his ship through all weather and danger, were a delicious contrast to the soft delicacy of her own skin, and Emma shivered despite herself. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she continued to hold her pirate’s gaze, pleading with him to continue his ministrations, which she had no words to explain. Her face flamed at her own brazen desire even as she stepped backward just once, enough to feel the bunk against the back of her knees, and then rose on tiptoes to press her bosom more fully into his wandering hand, mewling for a kiss until his mouth fully captured hers.

Killian’s eyes widened at Emma’s actions, a groan reverberating in his chest, almost pained to hesitate longer. When he swept his tongue between her willing lips, she gasped, trembling, but far from protesting leaned further into his arms, opening gladly as her eyes slid closed in bliss.

Clutching Killian’s arms to keep herself from collapse, Emma’s senses reeled at the onslaught he brought to life within. She felt at once burning from the inside out and doused in cool relief at finally knowing his passionate touch. It was nothing to fall back upon the thin mattress which had held her sailor all the nights they had been apart, and open her arms for him, welcoming him to her embrace in turn. She felt chills at being parted from his warmth for even a second after the inferno he had stoked in her veins, and she could only feel euphoria when he lunged forward, covering her with his long, lean frame once more.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Emma brought both hands to cradle Killian’s scruffy cheeks between her palms, searching his waiting expression and lovingly stroking her thumb along the trace of the scar beneath his right eye.

“My Love?” Killian whispered, his breath bearing warm concern as he voiced the question.

“Yes, Killian,” she murmured, nodding vigorously and pulling him closer still, both answering his soft address and granting him permission, giving him all, and urging him on, at once. “Please…”

The smile which broke over Killian’s face then was incandescent, crinkling up the corners of his eyes and transforming his entire aspect to pure joy. “Oh, my Swan,” he crooned, leaning down to briefly capture her lips again, then languidly, sensuously beginning to trail down her body, eyes still watching her with a devilish humor twinkling beyond the sheer devotion.

“Killian,” she managed, trembling at his every touch and fluttering breath along her skin, knowing they have finally neared the point when they will become one.

With purpose, he pulled one of her boots, then the other, from her feet, followed by her stockings, and then he was working the tight borrowed breeches she had worn since boarding his ship down her legs and baring the very heart of her to his hungry eyes.

Lifting her foot to bestow a kiss to its arch, Killian ran the cool steel curve of his hook up her leg with weighted portent, from the ankle he still held aloft all the way to the crease where her leg joined her body, making her squirm at the proximity to where she already sensed such need for his touch, even if the wealth of those pleasures were yet unknown to her.

Emma flushed all over at how the blue of Killian’s eyes darkened and burned as he drank her in, actually licking his lips while that devouring gaze travelled the length of her laid out before him and came to rest where she felt embarrassingly, desperately wet and clenching for his touch. She did not know what to say or how to urge him on, and as he hovered over her, she almost tried to hide or cover herself, before he worked his hips into the cradle of her quivering thighs, running his hand along her bared side and mouthing encouragements into her skin.

“Swan, Love, you are a marvel,” he proclaimed, his scruff abrading her most sensitive skin, tingling and sending shivers of ecstasy out from the very center of her to top of her head and the tips of her fingers and toes. “And I find…” here he pressed several openmouthed kisses to punctuate his words before again trailing his hook along the path his lips had made. “Pirate that I am…” until his hand and the carefully wielded steel held her open for his onslaught as she panted and writhed, torn between pleading for more and begging for mercy, “I find I must stake my claim to such decadent… unsullied… treasure.”

Then his tongue and teeth were there, feeling as if he would turn her inside out in bliss. Emma’s fingers scrabbled wildly for purchase across the sheets and fisted in his hair, her head thrashing desperately on the pillow beneath it. “It’s - Oh!....Ah! Y- y- yours!” she managed to cry before she was wailing, crying to the moon and stars overhead at the sensations he was wringing from her body, feelings she had never known she could experience to miss them before that moment.

**************** ****************************** *****************

After the wave had crested and fallen, and Killian had indeed claimed her yet again, Emma lay boneless and sated, running her fingers through his sweaty hair as his head rested on her chest, ear pressed to her still-racing heart, sprawled half atop her and half to her side. Though she had her kingdom to rule, and the person beside her who could help her, be her partner just as her parents had done and would surely have wished for her, Queen Emma of Misthaven could have happily basked in the glow of that simple quiet moment forever, never moving from that very spot.

“I’m yours,” she reiterated calmly, solemn and true, no longer pitched in the throes of passion. She stroked her fingertips over his brow lightly, as if to soothe him to his rest after such wondrous exertions. “Body and soul, Killian Jones.”

And before they both let sleep claim them, he gathered her closer still, arms wrapped around her tightly and nose nuzzling into her neck, Killian replied, “Aye, my Treasure, body and soul, just as I am yours.”

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @anmylica @sotangledupinit @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @lfh1226-linda @drowned-dreamer @zaharadessert

#cs two part fic #cs EF au #captain duckling au #the weight of the crown (is a feather on the waves)#part two #the conclusion #at last #birthday fic for @kmomof4

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whitecatindisguise · 1 year

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Hello! Here are some questions I'm asking fanfic writers for fun and for you to answer if you feel like it!!! :DD:

1. What is your favourite fic you have written and why? (This can be something you haven't published yet or a general story idea)

2. How long have you been writing fics for? (In general regardless of fandoms)

3. Best friend you have met through the Sonic fandom?

4. Another writer in the fandom who's work you admire?

5. Favourite Sonic oc you have made and why? (If you haven't made any then skip this one)

6. Your favourite (or favourites if it's hard to pick) fanfiction you've read?

7. Which fic have you written which has the most sentimental value or story behind it?

8. Favourite Sonic character?

If I have sent you this, love your work!!! Hope you have a good day and thank u for your contribution to the fandom!!!

Hi there 😊😊😊 I'm more than happy to answer some questions for you, dear anon.

1. My favourite fic, so far, is Mind Games. I guess it's because I got to play with the amazing "what if" scenario and create something that people enjoyed. Although the sequel, which is still very much work-in-progress, will probably either take that spot or become close second.

2. I've actually been writing fanfics for almost 20 years now. Though, the earliest ones were written in a notebook which has been used as a fire-starter at some point 😅 (my choice, don't worry about it).

3. That one is easy. @passionartx hands down, no doubt there

4. Now this one is more tricky, because I admire many writers from the fandom. I like @myyla-x stories, but I'm also fully entranced by @skimmingthesurfaces fics, works of Leodragon678 on AO3, wholesome Sonic Movies series written by Invader_Sam and Humanities_Handybag, @andtails Sonic X Reimagined series... Plus there's the Of The Pack series from Voltron fandom by Kokochan and TheBlueSpanch which is absolutely stunning in terms of worldbuilding, lore and everything. There are probably many more, but those are the ones that came to my mind on the spot.

5. I haven't made that many Sonic OC's, but there's one I like the most. She'll appear in the sequel of Mind Games, and I'm not entirely sure now how big of a role she'll play. Anyway, she's Vivian (Viv) the Cocker Spaniel and let's just say she's in a certain way connected to our favourite fox. 😉

6. Um... I think I kinda replied to that one while replying to number 4 so... Onto the next one 😁

7. Okay, so there are two that I can think of and they actually belong to Tangled the Series fandom. The first one is Let Me Make You Proud (LMMYP), which story is that I started writing it, lost interest somewhere along the way, left it for several months and then actually came back and finished it! That almost never happens for me. The second fic is The Sundrop Alchemist (TSA), which started as a fun idea to toss around in the group chat, back when Tumblr had group chats. And then I went and wrote it. Plus, a good friend of mine drew some amazing art for it, which just makes it better.

8. Tails, hands down. Kitsunami is close second, but the little genius fox will always have the first spot.

Thank you for the questions. I had fun answering them. Have fun 😊

#sonic the hedgehog #kitty mom answers #anon ask

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phoenixislost · 1 year

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(1/3) Aaa thank you for your response! it was a bit nerve-wrecking because i was afraid that the question might come off as too personal, but then again you’ve always been super gracious in answering my comments on AO3. and regarding tropes such as A/B/O, it's not really my thing either, but i also see a few trans/nb authors writing A/B/O because they rather not deal with the extra baggage, so to each their own. I just wish that the term “mother” in trans stories is dealt with much more nuance,

(2/3) not just using the term solely by the fact that they gave birth to the child (i know trans people don’t have to explain themselves but it would be nice to know the reasoning behind that character’s decision). There are trans people who go through this medical procedure but not the other, those who presents themselves unlike what a ‘man’ or a ‘woman’ should be from a cis perspective, so i really wanted to know that story too! I also hope that there are more stories just like yours, (3/3) not just in terms of trans pregnancy, but also experiencing life while being trans! (relationships, family, day-to-day basis). Also addressing the hurdles that comes with those experiences, without defining trans characters solely on those struggles. P.S: English isn’t my first language so I hope you understand what i’m saying

A lil bit of a long-winded response again, so find it under the cut!

Before I say anything else: I am so sorry for making you wait for this reply! I ended up taking a bit of a tumblr nap ;A;

I am more than happy to answer questions, so don't shy away from asking. Even if it did end up being something I might be uncomfortable to speak about, I'm fairly certain I would find a way to at least poke at it.

On the topic about A/B/O and trans/nb authors - I have recently discovered this as well! It has been actually very, very refreshing to find it written from a trans, or at least trans-adjacent perspective. I don't think I will ever write the trope myself, but it has become far less squicky for myself to read. Goes to show - even fandom evolves with the times.

I know exactly what you mean about exploring trans stories that delve into the experiences without being revolved around those experiences. There was a time when I was but a wee trans boy, navigating my identity, and the only stories that I could find in fiction (fan-written or otherwise), were those that leaned towards the heavy-handed tropes and stereotypes, with very little nuance. That might be why I lean that way in my own writing of the trans experience. It's my reality, but not my personality; if that makes any sense. And on that topic: I have a fic with this same style/theme in the works right now. Fully outlined and waiting for when I have finished a few things that I am currently writing. So, keep an eye out for that! c:

(P.S: Your English is lovely, and I understood you perfectly!)

#answered asks #anonymous #writing #history repeating

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getougender · 2 years

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hii i’m curious about the nobamaki ghost hunter au!!

hi! so sorry this took months to answer. i also started this response earlier but then tumblr ate it and i had go to work, but i’m on my break now! so:

i originally kinda talked about this idea in a post a few months back, and then it totally spiraled out of control.

in this au, nobara is a ghost hunter who gets a call to investigate a series of disturbances a few miles outside of a smaller village and, in the process, finds the long-abandoned zen’in compound. the place is a wreck and there are ghosts around every corner. among them is maki, a young woman with an unusually strong manifestation that all the others seem to steer clear of.

i’m not sure if sorcery still exists in this universe, but the zen’in massacre still happened, and maki and mai were at the center of it. this time, though, maki didn’t survive and remains tethered alongside the rest of the clan. i really love case fics and (big surprise) canon parallels, so only some of this is nobara putting the pieces together about her ill-advised crush new friend. this is kind of different for me because i wanted it to have more horror(ish) mystery vibes?? i don’t have a ton of experience in either of those genres, but i want to try :D

i don’t have a fully fleshed-out plan of where this is going, but i like the vibes and i have bits and pieces written out in docs, so i hope i can finish it eventually!!

#nobamaki #jjk spoilers #asks #ask game #riko.txt

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jack-is-lost · 2 years

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Project Update

I've devoted quite a bit of time toward a comic project that I hope to share with everyone soon. By soon I mean... well, maybe not within a few days or a week from now, but hopefully by the end of October/beginning of November! Yeah, that sounds about right. I'm going to definitely push to post at least one page roughly around that time frame. This is also why I've slowed down with responding to ASKs or posting doodles. I've been really enjoying storyboarding the first chapter, which has surpassed 25 pages, so it has taken a lot of my attention this past week or two. 😅 Sorry - This comic will be a long ongoing project too. I honestly don't see it being finished within a year, maybe not even two years — it really depends. Especially when considering how many chapters it'll take to fully showcase it in all its glory. Or the additional bits I might add for visual flavor; doodles, extra content, etc.

Before I ramble on further, I want to mention this comic will be my first attempt to tackle such a big project. Ya' know, something that isn't a simple illustration or a one-page-hit-wonder, basically. I don't expect it to be perfect by any means. Hell, I expect to take the opportunity given to me as a learning tool. Something that'll allow me to figure things out and grow within my style/skills. It will 100% not be perfect, is what I'm saying.

However, this is a perfect way to explain what I meant by "opportunity". The writer of this story is not me! Yup, I'm just the illustrator guiding you on this adventure. I have graciously been given permission to draw a lovely fanfic that I've adored ever since I stumbled over it back in 2020. I am working closely with the author and, in my eyes, see this as a collab of sorts. They get FULL credit to all scenes, dialogue, and plot. They are an amazing writer, and I feel most of you might have already read this fic by them. Especially if you enjoy or admittedly ship David and Michael. No, I'm not ready to say just "who" or which story. I don't want to give away too much just yet!

But, yes, this will be a David x Michael fancomic/webcomic. If you don't particularly like that ship or disapprove of them being paired in such a fashion than please, by all means, don't read it — no one will be forcing you to consume such content. I will say this for now that it will be mature. Explicit, even, in later chapters. Such pages will not be posted directly to tumblr, of course. Not even with the new fancy label system. But I will have a link available on those particular pages. Despite me defining this to be mature, it's mainly an emotional trainwreck. Seriously, be prepared for that.

As briefly mentioned, I do plan to post everything but said explicit scenarios to tumblr on a side blog dedicated specifically for the comic (and any other content related to it.) That side-blog will be kept neat and tidy as to keep it well archived and easy to read. More on that as it gets closer to me finally posting pages. (I'll post it to another website too, most likely, that allows explicit imagery which is where the link will probably take you)

Man, I am so excited for this project! I can't wait to share it with everyone! I know it'll be a long journey but for those interested in tagging along, I hope you all enjoy it 🥰

#random thoughts and rambles #95060 #David x Michael #the lost boys #(honestly just me rambling about a comic project while trying to not give too much away at the same time)

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igarbagecannoteven · 1 year

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👀🧠-♥️

hi annie!! thanks so much for stopping by i hope you're doing well 💙

👀: okay so neither of these are 5sos fics but i'll give two different vibes to keep things interesting :)) first off we've got Slitherdale by JombleBoingus which bella read to me out loud after we finished the final season of riverdale and it made me laugh so hard i was actually gasping for air! you don't need any knowledge of riverdale in order to enjoy it so. yeah sdkfjlskdjfljd You're On Your Own, Kid by ohmygodshesinsane which is a heartbreaking marauders-era character study of marlene mckinnon that' just. ohhhh my gosh so heartbreaking and so good and really struck a cord with me in how it talks about relationships and i just. i don't even usually read marauders-era stuff (or much hp fic in general) but this was very well done.

🧠: okay i don't know how long a ramble this is going to be but i am currently entrapped by the television show of all time, aka riverdale and i'm just sorta gonna word vomit about it a little bit so um. yeah you are under no obligation to read this. putting it under a cut bc. yeah. i'm crazy i'm a crazy person do you see me writing my own speech patterns into tumblr posts that's crazy sdkljflkdjs

OKAY so currently thinking about how jughead claims that he and veronica are supposed to be foils to archie and betty which like, on one hand kinda, but on the other hand not really i feel like they're more, not foils exactly but two sides of the same coin but different? i'm missing a word but whatever that is for each other. while archie and betty are both solidly middle class, jughead and veronica are on the extreme opposite ends of the spectrum, with veronica being pretty wealthy and jughead being from the "wrong side of the tracks". jughead is homeless in season one (and seems to have been living that way for a while) while veronica has just been "displaced" since most of her family's wealth has been seized since her father was arrested for embezzlement. in season one she tries to comfort ethel, whose parents are worried they're going to lose their house due to money troubles, by saying that she knows what it's like to lose a home even though the conversation is taking place in the dining area of her penthouse/fancy apartment. she does kinda try to relate to jughead this way as well but not as explicitly (possibly bc she knows he'll call bullshit) HOWEVER despite the fact that it seems like veronica and jughead's living situations couldn't be more different, in the final season (spoiler alert) veronica gets locked out of her parent's flat and is forced to live in the movie theater where she works just like how jughead lived at the drive- movie theater *he* worked at in the very first episode!!! (obvs there are still key differences since veronica owns the movie theater but my point still stands) continuing to compare s7 veronica with episode 1 jughead, while in the beginning jughead's parents were the absent ones with his mother and sister in another state and his dad an alcoholic gang member, in s7 veronica's parents are now absent as they've sent her to riverdale to live by herself despite the fact that's only fifteen or sixteen. they've both been put in positions where the adults in their life expect them to be fully self-sufficient while still in high school and don't even bother to check in regularly to make sure they're actually doing okay. then there's their belief that their respective besties are much better, more perfect people than they are, despite the really obvious signs that they aren't perfect (archie's vigilante complex, "dark betty", etc) but there's the difference in how they handle those feelings, with jughead mythologizing archie to the point that he warps reality around this fact while continuing to view himself as an outsider in archie's life, while meanwhile veronica spends much of season 1 trying to deserve to be betty's friend by becoming a better person and eventually (spoiler alert) falls in love with her in s7 and AAAAAAA there are so many more parallels and/or juxtapositions btwn these two but i'm gonna shut up now thank you for your time.

#i applied to eleven different trader joes locations only for them to say in their emails that they might not get back to me for at least 3 #weeks the bastards #oh well war is hell etc etc #thank you for indulging me annie ksdjfkldjs #answering mail #annie #i feel like i should tag riverdale sklfdjlkdjfklsdj

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 2 years

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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.

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