#i got the message and called the fucker out and got immediately blocked

[nikxation]

PSA, there's a really nasty Discord scam going around rn. If one of your friends DMs you, starting off with a simple "hello" "how are you", may even joke around a little, and then starts asking you to look at a game/project they're working on, don't click the link, don't download anything. If you can reach that friend through non-Discord means, reach out and let them know they got hacked.

One of my friends said the link takes them to a very convincing video game page that has in-game screenshots and stuff, and then gives you an option to download a playtest zip file or something. That download exploits a weakness Discord apparently has for password protected zip files and steals your Discord log-in and changes your account info to the scammer's account info. Two of my friends lost their accounts. Be careful.

[iolypse]

alright! shit went down last night, huh?

I'm gonna run through the events that took place, then break it all down. (this whole thing is 1.4k+— sorry!)

qcellbit, our newest mad theorist, spent some time going around the island asking the members who've been here the longest about their experiences. how they got to the island, if they remember anything from before the island, the dragon, the duck, the messages, the binary code fuckers, cucurucho, the eggs, etc etc.

one particularly interesting bit of info was given to him by qphilza, who explained the existence of the airships and his investigation of a particularly large one. after showing qcellbit some items he looted from said ship, including a netherite pickaxe, enchanted golden apples, and chorus fruit, he talks about how a binary monster chased him all the way back to mainland, trying to kill him the whole time. he mentions that when accidentally right clicking it, a baby certificate popped up just like what happens when you right click the eggs. he then recounts that qfit threw a bomb to kill the entity, which promptly despawned so they couldn't loot its body.

he says that a short amount of time later, the entity appeared again and gave him a book with coordinates on it. said coordinates lead to an odd machine built at qluzu's house.

later on, qcellbit explains all of this to his fellow theory brothers, and with qphil in tow, they go to investigate. it's exactly as qphil said— an odd machine, specifically a few blocks of which are admin placed, and what looks like a screen that could hold code inside? the machine also has an eight on it. maybe tracking the number of eggs?

(the original number, maybe. there are only seven eggs alive right now, ten eggs have existed total. with tallulah and richarlyson as late additions, yeah, that makes eight original eggs.)

qcellbit, qbad, qmaximus, and qfoolish all discuss this. one of them is suddenly given a book with code that translates to say "LEAVE". they debate this for a little while— is it saying to leave the machine, or leave the island? they aren't sure.

I'm not really caught up on qluzu's lore, but apparently there's some alternate version of qluzu called arin, and arin is a machine of some sort. arin may allegedly be part of the machine they look at now?

they then decide that they need to at least see if it would be possible to escape. the portal that the initial trains came through still exists, so they all leave their kids with qphil and go investigate.

qphil, now alone with chayanne, richarlyson, and leonarda, all of which have a single life, sets up a table and decides to ask them about their past. do they remember anything at all from being kidnapped and returned cracked? no. he turns to richarlyson, then— newest egg, the only one left uncracked— and asks about the dragon. was it small like a little lizard, or large, larger than luzu's house? richarlyson specifically says that he thinks— doesn't know, but thinks— that the dragon is very, very large.

it's then that a binary entity with a name translating to "AI" attacks (very briefly, it appears with cucurucho's skin, though I personally believe this to be a simple glitch unrelated to any actual lore, same with the eggs occasionally appearing with normal mc skins), immediately going for chayanne. qphil quickly sends out messages telling the others to come back now, and he and the eggs try their damned best to fight it off. qphil has to pop an enchanted golden apple, and it seems like the eggs' guns aren't really doing anything. the binary entity isn't going down. it flees just before the others return. they never quite reached the portal.

qphil takes chayanne home after this. chayanne tells him that he's missing his gun. did it break? he's not sure. it might've, but it's gone now.

meanwhile, qroier and qbobby are on a boat ride, far from mainland. they make it to shore, and that's when the binary entity— the same one that just attacked qphil and the eggs he was looking after— attacks. it forces them into the water, and bobby drowns while trying to escape it. the entity exclusively attacked bobby the entire time, not once going after qroier. as soon as bobby was confirmed dead, it swam to the surface and flew off.

there's more that happened after this— I haven't watched the full clips, but some include a mob typically only spawned by the binary entities showing up and attacking qbbh while he and tallulah were making a beach house, and cucurucho appearing within the hidden parts of qcellbit's base while he was in the middle of theorizing.

so! onto the actual analysis part of this bullshit.

the binary entities. there's at least six of them, 01101100 "l" (lowercase L) who originally attacked qphil, 101010110101 (has no direct translation, too many numbers) who attacked arin, 1001010 "J" who attacked qcellbit, 100101001 ")" (?????) who attacked leonarda, 01101001 "i" who attacked qmariana, and now 01000001 01001001 "AI" who attacked qphil and qroier separately (not including other binary entities I may have missed).

some of them are very determined to kill the eggs (looking at AI specifically), while others freely attack players (lowercase L), so it's hard to pinpoint if they have a collective motive here.

I've seen some people theorize that they are the interference in the messages players have been receiving— jumbled numbers and letters and morse code hidden within the videos, a voice asking "are you there?". I would have said they're trying to get players to leave the island by making it more dangerous and more unappealing, getting rid of the eggs so they no longer have any reason to stay, but then there's AI, who specifically attacked while the theory brothers were attempting to escape. A distraction, most certainly— I don't buy that this is a mere coincidence.

something I have noticed is that their activity has been more and more frequent the more the theory brothers spread what they've discovered, today revealing to qroier most everything they've been able to decipher, just a few days ago explaining things to qphil and inviting qcellbit to the group.

clearly they don't want people knowing things. they don't want the code deciphered, they don't want the island residents to learn what's happening beneath the surface.

so they're not trying to get them to leave the island, and the code within the video is likely not theirs (it's in a totally different format anyways— morse code and jumbled numbers and letters as opposed to pure binary code). when they received the book telling them to leave, it most likely meant to leave the machine. they're tormenting the eggs to further build emotional attachment and discourage attempts to escape or solve the code.

so whose code is this, if not the binary entities'?

no fucking clue! I do quite doubt it's cucurucho, and it's most certainly not the duck. it may be an outside source knowledgeable to the census bureau's potential crimes, or a possible survivor and escapist from long ago. the island was definitely once inhabited judging by the run down buildings that existed when the first batch of island residents arrived.

one thing I've been thinking about lately is the fact that they had to bring power to the island.

we haven't really seen anything come of that, have we? why would the island need power? there's odd outlets put in the wall, what's their use? why would something need to be linked to the wall?

wasn't the attempt kind of unsuccessful? both groups fucked up the puzzle in the train station, but they were let out anyway?

small little theory of mine is that they somehow drew power from the eggs to bring the brazilians there, cracking them in the process, but I really don't have any proof or anything to back this up. it's just a potential explanation as to why the eggs disappeared and came back cracked on the very same day the brazilians arrived.

I will say that some of the eggs have acted somewhat different since that all happened. while it may just be a response to the trauma they experienced, I feel like chayanne and tallulah have both been wandering a lot more than they used to lately. they always stuck fairly close to their parents, but it seems like they've both been straying a bit.

I'm honestly spitballing at this point, just trying to get a grasp on all this info. at the very least, I'm almost 100% certain the dragon never existed, and something is super fucking wrong with this island!

[aces-to-apples]

I got this while on vacation with some family and ngl I immediately forgot about it and only remembered when scrolling through my screenshots for something else. Anyway I'm a whole-ass trans queer, fuck Joanne and associated fascists, but there's actually no "still" about that slytherin because I literally only have it as bait for obnoxious fuckers like this. Not giving money to the violently queerphobic antisemite is praxis but being an insufferable prick about anyone who still manages to wring something meaningful out of art isn't. People may notice my blog is very into Star Wars, created by a shitty racist dude who was very into racial caricatures and cultural appropriation, and Red vs. Blue, created by a company that called one of their queer employees Faggot as a "nickname" for, like, years. If some people wanna complete disavow and wash their hands of the whole damn thing then that's cool and normal, but I'm personally not bothered by anyone who has lingering fondness for it or still gets something from participating in fandom spaces. I'll block people who give that bitch money and attention, mind, but this message is nothing but virtue-signalling and hoping to find an easy and acceptable target for further harassment. And also is probably new here lol.

[wearfinethingsalltoowell]

Jim: Am I in trouble? Olu: Take a guess. Jim: No? Olu: Take another guess.

-

Jim: What are your goals? Olu: To pet all the dogs. Jim: No, fitness goals. Olu: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.

-

Jim: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon. Olu, not looking up from their book: Spear. Jim: BLOCKED.

-

Olu: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail Jim: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

-

Olu: sighs I have no friends… Jim: Jim: coughs Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

-

Jim: If it’s any consolation, Olu got me here on a very misleading text message. Olu: Technically, you are about to be screwed in the biology room.

-

Olu: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you? Jim: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

-

Olu: I’m doing what I can to jog your memory. Jim: It’s jogging, I guess. Its tiddies are jiggling a little. Olu: Nice.

-

Jim, barging in: Syphilis! Olu: Jim: Olu: Pardon?

-

Olu: Can we go to a haunted house? Jim: What’s wrong with the one we live in? Olu: Wh-what? Jim: Goodnight, Olu.

-

Olu: So what’s for dinner? Jim: I can’t tell you, it’s a soup-prise! Olu: … Olu: Is it soup? Jim: I soup-pose it could be! winks Olu: Please, enough with the soup puns! Jim: Wow, you’re soup-per mean. Olu: STOP! one hour later Olu: It’s fucking tacos?!?!?!

-

Olu: You have to apologize to them Jim. Jim: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

-

Jim: It'll be fun. Jim: We'll make a day of it. Jim: Come on you punk bitch. Olu: I can't believe I have to say this. Olu: I don't have time to get tested for sti's with you tomorrow.

-

Olu: Okay, help me, please! Jim: Got two words for you. Olu: I bet they won't be helpful. Jim: Your problem. Olu: I was right.

-

Olu: Jim is restricted to decaf for the rest of this adventure.

[cait-writes]

Breathe

I could feel it the moment you saw her. I could see the change in expression, your eyes trailing her movement as she walked by. The second she turned and winked at you, I knew you would be a goner.

It hurt when you told me that you’d be right back, that you were going to use the the restroom - or whatever excuse, I honestly don’t remember. I knew it was a lie when I saw you shove that napkin in your pocket, obviously a phone number was written down.

I see your face in my mind as I drive away, ‘cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way People are people, and sometimes we change our minds. But it’s killing me to see you go after all this time.

Our relationship started to change when we went from hanging out a few times a week, although on the phone every day, to only getting to see you once a week and maybe talk on the phone twice a week. Our vibe was different. As time went on, we started to talk less, laugh less. Everything went through one ear and out the other and your eyes were glued to your phone.

I vowed that last night when you promised to meet me for ice cream and you didn’t show, that I would stop pining for a man that would never be mine. I knew I should’ve said something when I had the chance but I couldn’t. I was scared. We haven’t seen each other since. No text messages.

It’s two am, feelin’ like I just lost a friend. Hope you know this Ain’t easy, easy for me.

When Colby messaged me today to invite me over for a small get together at the new house, I originally told him no. I was sick, I had so much to do, every excuse I could think of. Colby and I were close, but not as close as Sam and I. But he knew how things were going and promised that he would be by my side the whole night, said he missed me too. It took a lot of convincing, but I did eventually give in to him. Little fucker.

Have you ever been around people were once close, but now felt unwelcome? It was awkward and I immediately wanted to leave. Colby stood by the door and slipped his hand around my arm and guided us to the kitchen.

“He’s hanging out near the game room which is down that hallway. I think he’ll be occupied for a while. Let’s get some alcohol in our system and have fun, alright?” He asked, looking up at me through his lashes, a smile playing on his lips. I rolled my eyes before accepting the drink he held. The clear liquid burned as it went down, but it was better than what I was feeling in my mind. After a few more shots, Colby was whisked away by a few of our friends and I was left standing there at the kitchen island. A roar of laughter broke my thoughts and my eyes immediately landed on the cause. Sam with his arm draped around his girlfriend’s shoulders and a few others were making their way towards the kitchen.

Panic began to set in, it was hard to breathe, as I quickly looked for an exit, but his voice said my name and I ran for it. A group of people were blocking the patio door as I shoved through, receiving a few dirty looks. I didn’t care. I needed away. I couldn’t handle seeing him. Not yet.

I followed the concrete path to the pool where very few people lurked. I sat down on the and dipped my feet in.

Sam and I met this way. We were both invited to a party of a mutual friend and the house was small and cramped, shoulder to shoulder. He was there first with a drink in his hand, shoes and jeans unrolled in the pool. I called him a goof and he complained his feet weighed a ton. His cheeks were crimson as I pulled his legs up and he fell onto his back laughing. He said I had a pretty laugh. The next morning I got a text message from him. Our friend gave him my number.

A pair of legs appeared in my peripheral and the sound of shoes clunking onto the concrete broke me from my thoughts. His scent invade my senses and my eyes burned with the threat of tears. His arm slowly snaked around my shoulders as he pulled me to his shoulder. His breath was shakey, “I miss you too, ya know.” He whispered softly.

[spiltscribbles]

Hi love!! I just took a look at the prompt lists u have linked and the prompt “you said what to your teacher?” sounds like it could be absolutely hilarious if u wanna write something for that!! <33333

Notes: OMFG HIYA DAN BABEYYYY!!!! Thank you SO SO much you absolute angel face!!! This was the first thing I tried writing and actually enjoyed and just wrote it all at once in the middle of the night dlkfsajlkgjasdofiewghklsdgj THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU!!!!

.-

You Said What To Your Teacher? | Send Me A Prompt💜

.-

“Do you remember when we were nine and I gave you my last sparkler because Regulus was crying that he wanted your purple smoke bomb and I was left with only my shitty poppers to throw when the ball dropped on New Year’s.”

Sub half way to his mouth and mobile lodged between his shoulder and ear, Sirius gently sets down his sandwich and dabs off the splatter of mayonnaise on his cupids bow as he tries to parse out what in bloody hell his best friend is blabbering on about.

“Oh, hi, Jem. Yeah I’m doing well, mate, thanks for asking. Works the typical grind but I think Minnie is about to give me that promotion any day now.”

“It’s a simple yes, or no answer, arse.” James retorts haughtily, sounding somehow frenzied and buoyant all at once.

“Pardon me, I thought we would just have a normal conversation like typical blokes,” Sirius sniffs, tilting back on his chair and clicking around on his desktop to look at the revised dimensions of a new building his firm was employed to begin constructing in south London. “Now remind me, my sweet. Was this the same New Year’s that you stuffed that stink bomb in the back of my shirt after stomping on it so it’d explode on me?”

“That is neither here, nor there.”

“I still feel the debris on my poor back on especially rough days.”

“You’re a twat.”

“And you’re acting dodgy.”

“I need a favor, and I thought a transactional proposition would be the sort of thing that you corporate types would appreciate.” James jabs, laughter in his words. Sirius just hopes he could picture the middle finger he’s emulating through the line.

“Just because you’ve completed residency doesn’t make you a special snowflake, you do realize this, correct?” Sirius tells him, already shooting a message to Minerva and his team that he’ll be jetting off a bit earlier so he could do whatever it is that James needs.

“Slander! It makes me the most special snowflake, Black. And it eats you up inside.” James retorts, moving away from the receiver to yell something towards one of his interns about a patient or the other.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, gorgeous. Now are you going to ever tell me what it is you need from me, or keep trying to get in my trousers, because listen either option is aces on my end. I’ll just add it to the document I send Lily every week about how I’m so obviously your dream partner.”

“It always just comes back to your burning jealousy that I chose her over you, doesn’t it?” James pretends to sigh forlornly. “Listen, my love. It’s not my fault that some birds are just born prettier than others.”

“Psha, I’m the prettiest fucker you know, Potter.”

“It’s the attitude for me, just absolutely no decorum about you.”

“Is this about that snag with me teaching Haz how to properly curse at a United fan?” Sirius asks, moving to collect his satchel and jacket. “Because I stand by that. We’re a fucking Arsenal family, damn it.”

“We were at brunch when he called that poor woman a weasel faced toad, Sirius.”

“Good man,” Sirius insists, waving goodbye to the secretary who always gives him the most devoted heart eyes.

“Well, speaking of the sprog. I’m stuck here with a new bout of paperwork to get someone transported to us from a hospital in the states, and Lily’s stuck in the maternity ward till at least nine.”

“Ooo, a bit of God father/God son time then??”

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” James says gravely.

“What have I told you about your shitty nerd references and how they give me a rash.”

“Spider-man isn’t simply for nerds you absolute pleb! There’s been three bloody franchisements for him in the past two decades!”

“Imma let Harry eat ice cream for dessert, I reckon.”

“Then you’ll have Lily to answer to,” James warns, still seething from the jibe. “And if you’re taking the bike, can you at least park a block away. This new school we’ve enrolled him into this year is well and proper, and I’d not want them to think that our son’s God father is some sort of ne’er-do-well.”

“You put respect on Rosco’s name, or so help me!”

“Right, right, the only constant love in your life.”

“She’s the only one who understands me.”

“ Whatever, just try and behave decently, will you?”

“Hah, and why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asks as he tosses his helmet into the air, patting Rosco in apology for James’s impertinence.

“Hmm, we’ll see, won’t we.” James says in an irritatingly ominous tone before clicking off the line.

.-

There are a lot of reasons why Sirius could hate James. He could hate him for forcing Sirius to join him on his morning runs, or hate him for his intensely perky attitude about every sodding thing. Hell he could probably hate him for his complete disregard of the mad sport that is American football. But all that withstanding, Sirius reasons that for today he’ll hate him for his cryptic fucking warning and how he knew this would happen and is probably cackling over it as he fills out a new set of discharge papers.

That absolute, unceasing, weasel faced, toad.

The ‘this’ that Sirius is referring to of course is the fact that Sirius is left dumbstruck and gawping as he strolls leisurely into Harry’s third year class, eyes roaming over the small cluster of children who had stayed after hours for extra tutoring and who are now just lounging around, waiting for a guardian to come and pick them up. But instead of first spotting the dark head that belongs to his God son, Sirius’s gaze focusses on a man… A very fit, very golden, very beautiful man. A man that’s all lithe limbs and honey eyes, and a small, quietly encouraging smile as he kneels down to chat with a blonde girl who’s got on a blue tutu and rainbow poncho.

“Fuck you James Potter,” Sirius hisses lowly to himself as he tries to collect his wits about him, and remind himself that flirting with his God son’s actual, fucking professor is not a thing that is approved of.

“Uncle Pads!”

Sirius starts, feeling suddenly grounded as Harry bounds towards him and hugs his torso with a tight squeeze. “Hiya Prongslet,” he says, grinning indulgently as he ruffles a hand through Harry’s wild mop of curls.

“Am I coming to yours then?”

“If you’ll have me,” Sirius winks, tapping the bridge of his specs fondly.

“Brilliant! I’ll just tell Professor Lupin.”

Oh, that’s a very sexy name if Sirius does say so himself, though he tries not to marinate on the fact as he waits patiently while Harry leads that absolutely delicious looking man towards him. And God, the way he’s tipping back his head only slightly to meet Sirius’s gaze— It’s lewd.

“You’re Harry’s God father, yes?” Is the first thing Professor Lupin says to him, stretching out a hand that’s all long fingers stained by ink, and knobby knuckles that Sirius suddenly has the insane craving to nip at.

Jesus, he needs to get himself the fuck together.

“Ahem, yes, yes. I’m that. I’m Sirius I mean— Oh, my name, and erm— I’m also serious that I am his God father, that is a thing.” Sirius rambles, feeling like a complete idiot as he takes hold of Remus’s slender hand into his own, and shakes it with two, awkward pumps— holding onto it for a beat too long.

Sirius repeats, fuck James Potter.

“Right,” Professor Lupin says with something akin to amused. “Well he’s only got his maths to finish tonight, and a bit more reading for history.”

“Oh, good. I’ll definitely help with that. I’m great with numbers.”

“Wonderful,” Professor Lupin nods at him before peering down at Harry and grinning widely. “You did great today, just keep up with your novel for Professor Meadows and you’re splendid. Yeah?”

“Thank you Professor Lupin,” Harry preens, chest puffed out not unlike how James had used to do back in their school days every time they won a footie match.

“Nice meeting you Mr— ah?”

“Black!” Sirius quickly offers, straightening up immediately like a rose bud stretching towards the sun. “Sirius Black.”

The corner of Professor Lupin’s mouth twitches up, and Sirius is struck with the searing need to see the full force of his smile directed towards him— and also to snog it right off. “Remus Lupin, just to make things even.”

And fuck.

Sirius swears— hand on his chest and face to God— that it was a flirtatious inflection that Professor Lupin— Remus— used right then, but before he can even have the chance to toy around with the development, a mother in yoga pants and Starbucks strolls in and Remus walks over to greet her hello, and before Sirius knows it, Harry’s tugging on his hand and dragging him out the room.

Damn it.

.-

Despite his total and complete fail of a first meeting with Harry’s sickeningly attractive professor, the rest of the night turns out to go as perfectly as planned. Otherwise known as them stuffing themselves with greasy pizza, and heaps of ice cream, and staying up an hour past Harry’s typical bed time to play Far Cry instead. And if Sirius contemplates asking him more about this elusive Remus Lupin, he bites down the urge and concentrates on sticking his spoon onto his nose before Harry could beat him in their match.

It’s totally fine.

That is until it’s six o’clock in the ruddy morning and he’s woken up by the loud knocking of his front door, only to be met by the grossly chipper faces of Lily and James— that sort of glow is only a thing that happens after a good shag, and Sirius knows that for fact.

“We brought pasties,” Lily tells him as she sashays indoors, red main of hair billowing in the late autumnal breeze and her voice ringing out like she’s some sort of radio show host.

“How was last night?” James asks him as he toes off his boots and follows Lily to the kitchen.

“Fine,” Sirius gripes, still pissy from James’s cruel joke. “Haz is always great.”

“Mmm, I hope Remus didn’t give you any trouble picking him up, you’re on the paperwork and everything but it’s the first time he ever met you and all.” Lily says, faux lightly as she picks out the plates and turns on the electric kettle.

“You knew!” Sirius accuses emphatically, pointing a heated finger her way and then directing it towards James.

“Knew that he is exactly your type?”

“And that you’d look like a tosser talking to him for the first time,” Lily tacks on, giggling.

“Fuck you, and fuck your weird, married telepathy!”

“Nah, not telepathy mate,” James assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re just incredibly predictable.”

“We’d have to be thick not to know that you’d be a total idiot around him— You’re the worst whenever you have to talk to pretty people who you actually want to do more than just screw.”

Sirius feels himself go scarlet. “That is an attack on my person, Evans!”

“Yes, dear. I know.” Lily croons, patting him on the cheek like a doting grandmother. “But does it help that I think you should totally go for it.”

“Lily! He’s our son’s teacher!”

“Only for this year,” Lily shrugs, sitting on a stool that lines the island. “Besides, I really like Remus. We have the same cycling class and he taught me how to make my face into an emoji like I’m a Kardashian.”

“You guys talk about’m like he’s the second coming of Christ,” James harrumphs, doling out their mugs with a scowl.

“He’s just so pretty,” Sirius sighs, beyond dejected. “Did you see that little birthmark on his cheek that looks like a butterfly! And Jesus, his eyes are like a third of his face!”

“Don’t forget how well he fills out those trousers for such a skinny bloke,” Lily adds, mixing the honey into the tea that James had just poured her.

“I alas did not get a chance to give his ass the appraisal it warrants,” Sirius bemoans.

“I very much do not like the idea that my best friend and wife are thirsting over the same bloke.” James sniffs.

“Jealous, lover,” Lily leers, laughing at how James wrinkles his nose at them and kisses his cheek in reassurance. But Sirius doesn’t pay them any of his attention, is too distracted by painting the picture of Remus in his mind’s eye, and how he really does need a second look if he loves himself at all.

“He’s like those caramel lollypops from when we were kids,” he tells them unceremoniously. “But instead of that tart middle, he’s just sweetness through the center.”

“You want to lick him, huh?” Lily asks, smirking at him with a lecherous air.

“I want to lick him until he goes mad and begs me to just flip’m over and—“

“Enough!” James quickly cuts in with a smack of the hand against the countertop. “This man is Harry’s professor, I can’t have these sort of images of him while I go to pick him up after class.”

Sirius jerks forwards, beyond excited. “Then let me pick up Haz from school today, yeah? It’ll give me a chance to speak with Remus!”

“Why do you want to talk to Mr Lupin?”

The three adults turn around at once, met by the image of Harry in the spare uniform he keeps at Sirius’s house— hair sleep rumpled and specs askew.

“Hallo my beautiful boy,” Lily grins, her and James each kissing his cheek and giving his shoulders a squeeze as he sits between them.

“Why do you want to talk to Professor Lupin, Uncle Sirius.” Harry asks again, earnestly as he tares apart his cheese and veggie pasty. “Do you like him?”

“Oh, erm—“ Sirius feels his insides squirm, not sure where to step, afraid that his God son might not appreciate the fact that Sirius’s already planning out a reception party for his impending nuptials with Remus.

“I think it’d be cool if you did.”

And in an instant, Sirius feels his shoulders loosen and his smile go elastic. God he loves this kid. “yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his water to clear his throat. “Ron told me that Professor Lupin use to be married to his Uncle Fabs and then they broke up last year, so I bet he’s sad now. And you’re the best person on the planet and you always have fun! You should make him happy again.”

Sirius’s heart seizes, suddenly needing to be the person to help Remus with anything he could ever need.

“You’re a diamond kiddo, you know that?” Sirius says, standing up to lift his eight year old God son into the air and blowing a raspberry to his cheek. “Shove it to your dad, you’ll be my best man at the wedding, yeah?”

“Imma need to start smoking if he’s gonna be this much of a prat all the time now,” James mutters lowly, making it so Lily crows with laughter.

.-

That afternoon finds Sirius parked back outside Harry’s school, straightening the collar of his jacket and combing a hand through his hair. Though once he steps into the nearly emptied classroom, he’s still slack jawed when Remus looks over his shoulder towards the door and grins at him in such a glimmering sort of way, that it punches Sirius in the fucking solar plexus!

“Mr Black, twice in one week?”

“Hah— Yeah.” Sirius hopes his smile comes out more gentle than a grimace. “It’s not far from my work, actually. So I guess I’ll be around more often.” In fact, the drive is a good twenty minutes from his office, but Sirius doesn’t think that’s really relevant.

“Lucky us.” Remus retorts, looking up and down his frame with a slow, languid sort of gaze that makes Sirius feel filleted right open. “Well I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You can know whatever you want,” Sirius practically sputters, wonders if he should try and act cool, especially now that Harry’s wandered over towards them.

“Is that an open offer?” Remus asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and lying back leisurely against his desk.

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Remus’s beautiful face goes absolutely incandescent right then. “Good.”

“Good,” Sirius repeats, completely devout.

“Oh, before you go,” Remus says, pointer finger raised to freeze them while his other hand fishes into a drawer of his desk. “It’s not a caramel pop, but at least the Tutsi ones are sweet all the way through.”

Sirius feels his jaw completely drop while Remus gently places the stick of the treat into his open hand, tossing him a quick wink before walking off to chat with a new parent who had wandered in.

“Harry— You said what to your teacher.”

“That you said he looked like a caramel pop,” Harry answers, totally owlish and unconcerned.

Sirius contemplates drowning into the lake, but then decides that this is a game he will not lose against Remus.

“All right, Prongslet. Let’s grab us some chocolate eggs and you can tell me everything you know about your dear Professor.”

“Okay, Uncle Pads,” Harry beams.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

[halictus-writer]

Hal the meet ugly list is AMAZING. If you are taking prompts, I would DIE for number 1, but I could also cope with 19 or 50, that seem more up your alley!!!! Pls pls pls no rush tho!!! 💜💜💜💜

V! Thank you for this lovely ask! Here is prompt number 1 (we were set up on a blind date but it went horribly, so now you message me every time you have a good date because you think your tips will help me in the future, you ass).

889 words, rated teen. Wolfstar (of course)

Meet Ugly 1

Remus silenced his phone after receiving the third text in a week from “Sirius Tinder.” A few seconds passed by. Remus looked at his computer screen in an admirable display of feigned-focus. “Fuck.” He turned the phone over to read the message.

Hot tip number three: this guy didn’t have a hernia when I offered to pay.

“What an asshole,” Remus muttered.

A few days later he got a new one. He was with Lily this time, and she called him on his eye roll-theatrics. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t just “block his dumb ass and move on,” as she eloquently put it. It’s not like he was actually learning from the condescending bastard.

Hot tip number four: when this guy spilled a bit of water on himself he didn’t adamantly deny doing so, despite visible water marks on his shirt.

Fuck off, he thought. He couldn’t say it out loud, or Lily would need to read the message, and then she would ask why Sirius Tinder sent such a message, and then Remus would need to explain that on his date with Sirius—first and only—he may have spilled a bit of water. A whole glass really. And then said he was fine. And pretended his shirt wasn’t soaked. And Sirius called him on it. The fucker.

One day later, he got a new text.

Hot tip number five: if you see a guy named Gilderoy on tinder do NOT swipe right. He’s an asshole.

“Sounds perfect for you,” Remus said but didn’t send.

A week of radio silence. Remus pretended to not notice.

Eventually, a new message.

Hot tip number seven: this guy didn’t lecture me on the adverse health effects of smoking when I offered him a cigarette.

Remus clenched his jaw. “Hot tip number one,” he dictated as he typed furiously, “the number after five is six, not seven.”

Sent.

Oh. Immediately, the screen showed Sirius typing in reply.

I love it when you correct me. Hot tip number eight will have to be about grammer, seeing as no one else I’ve gone out with has been as anal about it as you were.

“GrammAr,” Remus replied.

Oh god, yes. More!

Remus turned his phone off and shut it in the silverware drawer.

The next day he got a new text. Remus’s eyes narrowed preemptively.

What was the name of that brunch place you mentioned? With the cinnamon rolls?

Remus took a screenshot of his phone after typing “local brunch restaurant cinnamon roll” into the search engine. He sent it without a caption.

Sirius immediately returned laughing emoticons.

Two days later, Sirius texted again.

Hot tip number idk: don’t take a gluten-free dude to a bakery for a date.

The cinnamon rolls WERE delicious though. Thanks for the (slightly condescending) recommendation.

Remus smiled a bit at that, though would adamantly deny doing so if anyone were to have seen it. He didn’t reply.

An entire month went by, and Remus didn’t hear from Sirius. No irritating advice reminding him of his awful first date, no slightly-painful reminders that Sirius was on a date with someone else, and no casual entertainment. Sirius’s messages were a little funny, Remus had to admit. He certainly noticed their absence, but did not say so.

He went on another first date, upon Lily’s request. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t awful. Mostly, it was just…flat. Remus wasn’t an expert at relationships, but he at least hoped that a long-term partner would inspire something—joy, interest, desire, excitement? He didn’t schedule a second date.

A few days later, his phone rang. The screen lit up with “Sirius Tinder,” no contact photo. Remus froze for one ring, mentally shrugged for another, then answered.

“Hello.”

“Remus. I have been on a million first dates since you, and they have all been perfectly fine, or at the very least, attractive.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you want a cookie?” Remus asked, incensed.

Sirius barked a laugh. “Just listen. I’ve been on a bunch of dates. None of them brought a book with them in case I was late. None of them spilled an entire glass of water on themself as I was speaking, and then profusely denied being wet at all or needing an extra napkin. None of them were meticulous about grammar. None of their eyes lit up when they talked about their work. None of them made me feel.”

Remus didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t.

“Remus. You annoyed the hell out of me.” Sirius’s smile was audible. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I kept texting you, and you barely responded, I cared. And I felt absolutely ridiculous. But I do, and I need to tell you, because I think I might be losing my mind. Will you go out with me again? Please?”

Remus swiped a hand over his face, but couldn’t dislodge his grin. “If,” he said slowly, “for no other reason than to remind myself exactly why I find you infuriating,” he paused, “I accept.”

“Oh thank god. Cinnamon rolls? Tomorrow?”

“Fine. Oh, and Sirius?”

“Yeah?”

“Hot tip number two: wear the leather jacket again.”

Sirius laughed into the receiver, and Remus felt absolutely giddy. Maybe it was infuriating, or infatuating, but it certainly wasn’t plain. And it wasn’t unwelcome.

[qitwrites]

a numbers game 

Fandom: BNHA 

Pairing: Kiribaku 

(AO3) 

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.”

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

  He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

  Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

  Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

  It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck 

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

  “So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can��t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

  bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

  Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

  dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

  “Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks. 

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

  Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

  Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?” 

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie. 

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

  “Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

  For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

  Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.”

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”  

  Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.  

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

  It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

 ---

 Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

 ---

 dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

 ---

 “So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

  Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

 ---

 Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

  Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

  It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

  “How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

  Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji  <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3  

[mego42]

while I was not specifically prompted, @foxmagpie posted a fic request that made my brain go hmmmmmmmm, so I went ahead and pretended it was a prompt for me because I do what I want.

i want to read a fic from rio’s POV of 2.10 when annie reached out to him both because i think annie trying to arrange a business proposition would be hilarious but also because i suspect that rio thought beth was either orchestrating things or that it would be a way to get her back and i wanna get in his head about it

can we meet

All in all, it's a pretty standard text. Rio could probably scroll through his phone and find at least 15 others at any given point. More if he didn't dump his phones every week or two. Even more if he didn't have Mick filtering most of the bullshit for him. 

But that's the thing, he does have Mick, which means when these kinds of texts make it all the way to him, he knows who they're from and what they want. The problem here is he doesn't know who the fuck this is or what they want or, most importantly, how the fuck they got this number. 

And that last part especially is a big enough fuckin' problem that he shuts his laptop and scoops up his phone, swiping through to call and see who it is. 

"Hello?"

He doesn't immediately recognize the voice that picks up, though it pings something. He waits, still not saying anything, figurin' he'll either place it, or they'll give themselves away. It's fuckin' unbelievable the kind of shit people will say if he just keeps his mouth shut and waits 'em out. 

"Is this…" The voice trails off, and he's right on the cusp of placin' it, can feel a face bubbling to the surface when it continues in a whisper. "Gang friend?"

The fuckin' sister. 

Rio's mouth snaps shut so hard it sends a pang through his jaw, and he's pretty sure she heard his teeth click together over the phone. 

There are motherfuckers who would kill—hell, who have killed—for his number, and here's this suburban bopper callin' him up like she can summon him or some shit. Like she has the right.

And isn't that just like Elizabeth, makin' her sister call? After her pretty little fuckin' speech, that prim, butter wouldn't melt it's over, leavin' his cut on the goddamn nightstand like he was some kind of hired help. 

His phone case creaks, giving slightly under the force of his grip, and he forces himself to relax. He leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers on his desk, tryin' to figure out how he wants to play this.  

He fuckin' knew it. 

He's not about to pretend the victory isn't at least a little sweet underneath the bitter rage just thinking 'bout their stalemate brings to the surface. He knew Elizabeth wasn't gonna walk away. She couldn't, she didn't have it in her. 

It isn't enough, though, knowing he was right. It's barely a dent, a scratch, a fuckin' scuff in the debt she owes him, the mountain of shit he's gonna make her pay for.

"Hello?"

He hasn't said anything yet, and it's makin' the sister antsy, he can tell. There's a static, scratching noise, and he realizes she's put her thumb over the speaker or something because he can hear what she says next, but it's muffled. 

"Are you sure this is the right number?"

Something in him bottoms out—he's not exactly tryin' too hard to identify what. The bright, bitter flair of satisfaction's gone as quickly as it came, leaving a dark, hollow space behind. 

The sister's actin' out then, going rogue. Elizabeth knows damn well what his number is. She hasn't exactly been too shy 'bout usin' it whenever she needs a payday loan. Or other services for that fuckin' matter. 

He can't help but laugh at that, but it's a harsh, biting sound. The audacity must be genetic. 

"Okay, now I know you're there. Stop being a dick."

He should hang the fuck up, now that he knows who it is. Hang up, block the number, forget all about that bitch and the sister. It's probably the smartest thing to do, all told. 

Except. Except she fuckin' owes him, and Rio hasn't gotten to the top by letting debts go unanswered. 

"What?" He asks, giving the t an edge sharp enough to cut. 

There's a pause. "What like you didn't hear me, or what like what do I want?"

Rio adjusts a potted bromeliad's alignment on the corner of his desk, running a finger along the edge of one of the tall, spikey leaves. Mick had dropped it on his desk one day with no fanfare, only snide commentary about Rio needing to take a vacation, and maybe this'll get him thinkin' 'bout it.

The annoying part is, it's not like the disrespectful fucker's wrong. Rio knows damn well he's let himself get far too twisted up in Elizabeth's bullshit. Offerin' to deal with her problems, lettin' her get away with all kinds of amateur hour bullshit like bringing her fuckin' kids on drops. He never should've let her strong-arm him into cuttin' her in. It's not like she's the first person to try, should've dealt with her like he would anyone else, string her up and don't give her the option to not tell him where his shit is. 

Hell, further back than that, he never should've followed her into that motherfuckin' bathroom. Should've kept it business, should've never found out how soft those miles of pale skin really are, how far that delicate pink flush can spread, how unexpectedly dark and rich she tastes.

Disgusted with himself, he shoves up out of his chair, pacing around the tiny, concrete floors of the control room currently serving as his office in long, loping strides.

He should take a week. Tie things up, take Marcus to Disneyland, or some shit. Get some fuckin' distance. Perspective. 

"Hello?"

Now the sister sounds like she's getting annoyed, and Rio's really gotta do somethin' about the two of them runnin' 'round actin' like he's someone they can get away with not takin' seriously. Like he's some sort of pet. Defanged. Declawed. Fuckin' neutered. 

"Get to the point."

"I mean, I kind of did in the message." 

Rio can hear some kind of groan or somethin' from the background. Probably the friend. She was the only one of the three of them who ever seemed to really get what kind of waters they were swimming in. How deep they were and what kind of monsters lurked beneath the surface.

"Yeah, that ain't really how we do things."

"I know, I...look—" He has to yank the phone away from his ear when she sighs, loud as shit, right into it. "Something...I mean, um. I know Beth quit, but, uh…"

He tunes her out, the way she's going, she'll be stutterin' her way around to her point about a half an hour from now. 

She wants a fuckin' favor, a hookup. They always do. Not just these bitches but everyone. Once you're at the top, all people want is a piece; it's only a matter of whether or not they're gonna beg for it or try to take it. Every now and then, they try to earn it. 

It’s one of the things he'd liked best about Elizabeth from the jump. Yeah, sure, she was arrogant as shit, struttin' 'round in those heels like she understood the rules the world played by. Like she could twist anything and everything' round her pretty little fingers and get away with whatever the fuck she wanted as long as she batted those big, blue eyes just right. 

But she was willin' to work for it. She might’ve expected to be awarded a piece just because she worked hard and that was the fair exchange for her effort. And isn’t that a trip? The idea of livin’ in a world where fair meant somethin’. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t gonna get down in the dirt and scrap for it. 

Her problem is—well, one of 'em, he doesn't even have enough warehouses to house 'em all—she looked out at her tidy little garden and thought that was the dirt. She didn't want to accept there's a whole other subterranean playing field underneath all of that. 

He'd seen it though, the thing with teeth and claws she had locked up inside her. It'd come out in flashes and splinters, peaking through the bars of the cage she kept it in, eyes flashing, tail lashing, and he couldn't help it, the urge to see what would happen if he pulled its tail. Let it loose. 

Rio stops pacing, coming to a halt in front of one of the huge paneled windows in the exterior wall of his office, leaning up against the edge and looking out. The panes are dingy, giving his view of the Michigan winter sky a bleak, barren cast. Not that it needed any more of one. This warehouse sits on the edge of a train yard, the miles of rust and concrete below reaching out towards the horizon. All grey and dirty red, broken up by the occasional patch of strangled grass or vibrant streaks of neon tags left behind to defiantly mark the artists’ passing. 

"...I guess what I'm saying is, you know, you still have options in this, um, market. If you catch my drift. I'm hoping that we can figure a way to continue this mutually beneficial arrangement…"

The sister's still going, so he ticks through his options. 

He'd have preferred Elizabeth came crawling back all on her own. That'd be ideal. He hadn't decided yet if he'd initially shut her out, make her work for reentry, and then make her pay, or go straight to the main event. It would've depended on the circumstances, what was most advantageous at the time. All good plans are flexible. He’s learned the hard way to always take contingencies into account. 

She would've, though. Come crawling back. It was only a matter of time. She's had a taste now, she'd let herself go just enough, she wasn’t gonna be able to pack herself back away in that soul-sucking suburban box of a house, of a life. Not for long.

Beyond that, there was the money. She might've thought she had enough, but four kids, three mortgages, and a moron with a talent for squandering every last thing he's given? That's a lot of financial upkeep. 

'Sides, even if she thought she was in the black, he was still keepin' tabs on all of them—it wasn't even personal, just good business, they were too new, too green, too unpredictable to go without the extra surveillance—and he knew that wasn’t the case across the board. Elizabeth might've been in an okay spot for now, but the sister and the friend sure as shit were not, and if there's one way to get Elizabeth to jump, it's come through her people. 

And on the off chance that all of that failed to come to fruition—always a possibility, she's stubborn as shit and not above gettin' into some kind of dumbass, fucked up mess to keep from backin' down—he's got his little landfill insurance policy tucked away on ice if he ever needs to really force her hand. 

"So, what do you say?" The sister‘s finally run out of steam.

Rio runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip and tucks it in his cheek. 

Now that he’s really thinkin’ about it, this might actually be a better option than any of the ones already on the table. There's no way the sister and the friend are gonna pull some shit all the way off, not on their own. He knows how to read a room, it’s been the thing that’s kept him alive more than once, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt, the two of them aren’t half as effective on their own. They don't have Elizabeth's steely determination, her gift for spinning bullshit into gold. Not only that but there’s too much friction there. They need Elizabeth to grease their wheels. He can toss 'em some piddly shit that don't matter and let 'em get tangled up. Give 'em enough rope and all of that.

And hey, it's not like he came after her—them. If anything, he's tryin' to help. He’s givin’ them the same opportunity to earn some money, build their own side hustle. He's practically the good guy here.

The thought makes him laugh, this time like it's actually funny.

"Okay, well, thanks for that. You know, you don't have to be rude. I just thought—"

"Park. 2 pm."

"What? Oh! Seriously? Okay, great. Wow, that is...phew. That is a load off, you don't even kno—"

Rio cuts her off, locking his phone and tucking it back in his pocket, then tapping his fist against the window. 

Three seagulls are down in the warehouse parking lot fighting over scraps of something. Even all the way up here, he can hear 'em cawing, screamin', tearin' into each other for the same piece of the pie. After a minute, one of ‘em rips whatever it is away from the other two, swallows it and takes off. The others follow a beat behind, and he watches the three of ‘em fly directly overhead until the building obscure his view. 

Either Elizabeth'll come to him, or this will give him a new string to tug, somethin' he can use to yank her right back under his thumb. He'll get her right back where he wants her and then he'll— He'll—

Well. He'll just have to see. 

[acciostorian]

what friend you are in the friendship group based off your fave sge character

tedros of camelot

-you give me the kind of vibes that you text the group chat about you midnight food order in all caps

-“GUYS I GOT THE FUCKINF MCDONALDS LETS FUCKIFNF GOOOXZ”

-*sends picture of random person to the groupchat* omg they/she/he are so fucking cute ejdjcjd

agatha of woods beyond

-you have to be persuaded to leave the house

-*rings up friend* is that thing still on today?... yeah?.... FUCK

-everyone hates that you wear all black during the summer, you’ve probably been told that looking at you is making everyone else hot

sophie of woods beyond

-you get jealous when someone else in your friend group starts liking something you like (ifykyk)

-“hottie at 3 o’clock. everyone smile and wave.”

-you pick where the group goes to eat. no one else is allowed to choose.

hort of bloodbrook

-you either send the weirdedest fucking messages, or you send really blunt, troubling messages to your friends at 3am whilst their sleeping with no follow up

-always getting left on read, or no one wants to go out with you because your idea is really weird

-the ultimate third wheel

nicola of woods beyond

-you have all the group chats on mute unless stated otherwise

-will not say anything in the chat for ages whilst it’s popping off, then’ll read all the messages and add something really funny and just leaves for another decade

-“no i won’t join the video chat. i’ve been fucking working on the project. what have you been doing? failing you fucking physics exam.”

chaddick of foxwood

-you’re good at sport and you always have matches so all your friend get pissed and are like “whhhhyyyy cant you come on friday? is it because if your sporting event? :/“

-either have to have the dirty jokes explained to you or you’re the one explaining the joke

-have some sort of catchphrase and/or you’ve said something really stupid in the past and your friends bring it up whenever they can

beatrix of jaunt jolie

-WHY ARE YOU UP SO EARLY???? stop fucking messaging the group chat at 5am. get help.

-you’re either healthy and you try to get everyone to get good habits or you have TERRIBLE habits and everyone’s just really concerned for you

-you’ll repeat something stupid someone said in the group chat but you’ll type it LiKe ThIs

rhian of foxwood

-you’ll go ia for DAYS and then you’ll come back and everyone will be like “where the fuck were you??” but you always have an excuse

-you’ve got some sort of god complex/call yourself a god/have really good self esteem

-you bully your friends in front of others but if one of them were to trip you’d be the first one to ask them if they’re okay etc etc

reena of pasha dunes

-the pretty friend. don’t deny it. some many people ask your friends to put in a good word for them and all that

-SO MANY REACTION IMAGES. instead of typing something or something, you’ll instead send like the fucking eddy hearn reaction imagin thats like “let’s say, hypothetically, that everything was okay” (ifykyk)

-please stop being so late to events.

kei of foxwood

-you constantly screenshot the funny moments and just scroll through your camera roll when you’re sad (honestly same though)

-you’re the kind of case where it’s like, you’ll say something at like 5am and everyone would be like “are you up so early because you went to bed really early or because you haven’t even gone to bed at all?”

-stop throwing your phone from hand to hand, it’s making everyone really uncomfortable

kiko of neverland

-you can’t start a message/conversation normally. it’s constantly “what’s up fuckers” “hello fellas” “what’s popping” “hey mamas” “hola amigos” “GOOD MORNING SIMP NATION”

-you’ll say bye/goodnight to the chat really early but then you’ll be caught active at 3am on instagram

-you’re so loud when you’re outside with your friends. please stop shouting things out of context.

japeth of foxwood

-stop sending people pictures of the sun rising. we get it. you sleeping schedule is absolutely fucked.

-you’ll send those ‘how well do you know me’ quizzes to your friends and block the ones that got the lowest

-sends something scary into the group chat at like 2am and scares the shit out of everyone

millicent of maidenvale

-*likes the message and just ends the conversation there*

-you just constantly spam the group chat with animal videos

-made friendship bracelets for your friends and were happy that they all wore them

aric of bloodbrook

-you’re that fucker that’ll be on a facetime to all your friends really late at night and then you’ll just scream down the mic.

-you’re the worst texter. so blunt/spelling things wrong/still have caps on for some fucking reason/SENDS THE LAUGHING CRYING EMOJI

-“i know it’s late, and you’re all probably still asleep. but i really need to tell you that i accidentally blew up [instern friend’s name here]’s minecraft house”

yara of avalon towers

-texts in full sentaces, proper punctuation, but still no caps

-always have such aestheticlly pleasing recent emojis???

-*sends screenshot of someone being disrespectful in someone’s comment section* will you please help me shut down this racist/transphobe/homophobe/fucking idiot

hester of ravens wood

-will be on a call with friends at like 4am then’ll say “hold up whilst i go down stairs real quick and make a coffee.” like what the fuck bro

-STOP LEAVING YOUR FRIENDS ON SEEN

-“who wants to play a horror game with me??? no i don’t care if it’s 2am and you’ve got school tomorrow, i wanna play five nights at fucking freddy’s 4”

anadil of bloodbrook

-only sends voice messages, too lazy to type

-you’ll go to sleep really early and then complain the next day that you missed out on the chaos in the group chat

-when you go to someone’s house your immediate reaction is to ask to see their pets

dot of nottingham

-*sees cat in the corner of someone’s photo* send up a picture of the fucking cate [insert friends name here]

-keyboard smashes, so many keyboard smashes

-“i’ll bake cupcakes, but i’ll put mustard in a few of them so it’ll be a fun game of who’s gonna be sick first?”

[summertime4k]

Six Feet Apart // DreamNotFound

just finished writing this thing, lol, sorry about the lack of posts, writers block rlly said "fuck u alex lmaooo"

but anyways, heres a dnf thing lmao

Dream sighed, leaning against his chair as he looked at the ‘Go Live’ button on his screen. He could see the chat going crazy with messages like “WILL HE SRTEAM?!?!?” or “HELLO??? DREAM I MISSED YOU”, which were endearing to him. It brought a smile on his face to know he was able to make hundreds of thousand of people’s days better by just streaming.

The button went red. His livestream started.

After a couple of seconds, Dream cleared his throat and greeted his audience, “hello.”

He smiled at the surge of hello’s, smiley faces, and overall positivity his chat radiated, “uh, hello. Hello!” He moved around his chair and moved his hair from his face, tapping on his desk and reading the chat as fast as he could. “Um, decided to stream today. I have the time, and decided, why not?”

The chat was very happy to see Dream streaming, since the blonde didn’t really stream that often. He’d appear in other people’s streams and videos, but not his own content.

‘Thank you good sir for streaming, you have made my day better’.

“Aww,” Dream started up minecraft, covering his mouth with his hand as he read the dono again. “Glad I can make your day better, that’s like, the point of my content...thank you.”

-

“Bye!” he ended stream and looked at the time, cursing himself for streaming above two hours again. He raided Ranboo, stayed until Ranboo noticed and thanked him for the raid. Leaving when he realized he somehow missed a call from George.

Leaving the stream, he went on Discord and called George again, wondering why he had called Dream in the first place.

“YOU ARE DUMB. YOU ARE DUMB! YOU ARE DUMB! YOU ARE DUMB! YOU’VE JUST BEEN PRANKED!” George immediately left the call.

Confusion wasn’t even close to how Dream felt. He left out a small laugh, “oh that fucker better get back…” he mumbled to himself, calling him once again on Discord.

The british man answered after three rings, his laughter filling Dream’s headphone, “Oh my,” his own laugh caught him off. Dream could just easily picture George laughing to himself, alone in his room with his RBG lights he somehow refused to use instead of the green screen.

“You’re such an idiot,” Dream chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he leaned his arm against his desk, “you know that right?”

“Oooh Dream called me an idiot oh my god!”

“George!”

“Dream!” George dragged out, pronouncing the ‘r’ as a ‘w’ instead.

He rolled his eyes, looking at his monitor, then up at his webcam. Of course, he still hasn’t used it for streams or anything, it was mostly there for times like these with George. “What do you want, George?”

“I just got bored, Quackity is planning something for a stream tomorrow, Sapnap said he was going out somewhere right now?” George questioned.

Nodding, Dream confirmed it and said he wanted to get some more manga, or whatever he had said. “So you’ve chosen me to bother?” his eyes wondered to the bottom right corner of the screen, frowning as he remembered what time it was for George.

“I’ve got nothing better to do, so why not?”

Dream looked back at George’s profile picture, “George.”

“What?”

His eyes widened, as if George could see him, “Isn’t it like, almost one in the morning for you?”

George went silent, some ruffling of papers going on his side of the screen, “I mean, yeah- but I’m not tired! I wanna talk to you Dream.”

“Well,” Dream rolled up his sleeves, leaning against his desk once again amd looking around his set up, “can’t really argue with that incredible reasoning- “

“But with facecam…”

Silence filled the air once again. Dream’s eyes went up at his webcam, and back to George’s profile picture.

“Okay”

“What?”

Dream made sure his camera was ready to go, somehow feeling nervous turning his camera on, even though he’s done it before with George. Biting his lip with his mouse key over the camera option, he finally clicked on it. Smiling when he saw George’s webcam on.

His finally loaded, immediately feeling weird by looking at himself. “This is weird.” he said to hijmself, moving his hair and playing around with it, “how do you guys do it?”

Shrugging, George smiled, looking at Dream through his monitor, “i don’t know, all I know is that when you face reveal, the fans are definitely going to pop off with the edits.” he laughed and looked back down.

“What- What do you mean?”

“They always pop off with like, those cool edits, and they’re especially going to pop off with edits for you.” George went quiet as he reached the end of the sentence, avoiding Dream’s webcam in fear of making things awkward. “Y’know, because they’re all amazing editors…”

Dream agreed that the stans were amazing editors, but his mind wandered off by its own. He began to think about how the world is like currently, with covid and things. He’s glad that things seem to be getting better, Dream only wished that it could get better faster.

He wanted to meet fans, travel the world more, meet the rest of the Feral Boys and everyone from the SMP. Most of all, he really wanted to meet George. Meeting George was definitely what he wanted to do first. Just to finally get to see him in real life, and not through a Discord call like the two of them have been doing for the longest tme.

“What are you thinking about?’

Immediately getting pulled from his thoughts, he and George looked at each other through their screens. “Huh?”

‘You’re thinking about something,” George rested his head on the palm of his hand, “you have this look on your face you always make when you’re thinking about something…” he pointed out, smiling when he saw the blush rise on Dream’s face. “You like- have your tongue slightly poking out- and your eyebrows they like... like furrow a bit, y’know?” his hand made a gesture as he pointed to his own eyebrows.

Dream’s mind got clouded as he looked at George, the want- no, the need to just see him in person grew as the seconds went by. “Thinking about...the covid stuff, and how uh, we could meet for the first time,” his foot tapped rhythmically on the wood floor, feeling himself grow more and more shaky. “Y’know, like we- we could’ve met if covid wasn’t a thing.”

He nodded and took a sip from the water bottle he had nearby, “yeah- sadly covid had to ruin that, and countless other things for people…”

“Yeah…” that made Dream think more, “I wish we could be together…” he sighed, leaning against his chair, heart breaking as he saw George’s face sadden.

“Hey, when we meet, you promise to like- show me around Florida? We can go to…” George’s eyes wandered around his room, trying to come up with a place in Florida, “I-I dont know...a beach maybe?”

Dream let out a soft laugh, nodding and already imagining showing George the beach, and then the playground he used to play in. “I can take you to a park, tell you about how I accidentally kicked a kid’s arm in elementary.”

Immediately stifling a laugh, George’s hand covered his mouth, shaking his head. “God- does the park have a swing set? I love swing sets.”

“Yeah!” he sat up and began to move his hands around. “And like, you get the perfect view of a sunset…”

The words went through George’s ear and out the other as he imagined that scenario. Smiling to himself as he pictured Dream holding his hand while on the swing set, laughing together about stupid childhood memories only the two of them knew because they had told each other. Probably getting off the swing set and chasing each other around, their feet becoming too tired to hold themselves up so they decide to lie down on the grass and look up at the stars, forgetting the distance they had between them. Only thinking about that moment only. Their heart and souls staying there in that second with each other.

“Dream?”

“George?”

The two looked into the monitor, feeling connected to one another, but the only thing separating them being the screens between them. Wishing nothing but to be able to just simply reach through the screen and hold each others hand. If anything, just for a single second could be enough for them.

“I love you” George said, a soft yawn following behind him.

The blond smiled, looking deep into George’s brown eyes, “I love you too, George.”

“Good.” the tired one sleepily said, rubbing his melatonin filled eyes and yawning once more, “you better.”

“You better go to sleep, idiot.” Dream looked at the time once more, converting his timezone to George’s, “you need your rest.”

Finally nodding, George gave Dream a thumbs up and waved goodbye, “Bye Dream, goodnight sleepyhead…”

“Goodnight George.”

The sound of George leaving the call rang in his headphones. Leaving him alone. He turned off his webcam and left the call as well. Feeling blue, knowing it would be awhile until he actually got to hold George in his arms, but feeling happy knowing that George wanted that too.

Dream can’t wait to meet George.

[lunasilvermorny]

When your worst fear come true.

Winter, 1997.

Talbott was the one that got the call.

He stood up almost immediately and ran out of the room to catch Tonks before she leaves.

“Sorry, mate.” Tonks said before he had a chance to say anything. “I know there’s a call, but I have to be somewhere else.”

“It’s-“

“Nope, I’m off the clock. We’ll talk tomorrow-“

“Listen.” He blocked her way, shooting her an extremely serious look. “The address – it’s Luna’s parents’ house.”

Tonks froze and stared at him for a few seconds, before her mind caught up to the severity of the situation. “You mean-?”

“Her father, probably.”

“Oh, no.” Tonks murmured. “Let’s go.”

They didn’t even try to follow procedure, they just left as fast as possible. Three seconds have past before they stood in front of the house. The front door was open and the Dark Mark was floating in the sky a few meters above the roof.

A high-pitched cry cut through the air, followed by loud sobbing. They didn’t wait any longer and went inside, passed through the long corridor and into the large living room. Luna was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, cradling the body of her little sister. Another loud cry burst out of her throat, so intense that it cracked mid-way through and turned into choked shrieks. She wasn’t aware of their presence yet.

Tonks turned to look at the body of the old man that was on the ground half a meter from Luna – it was her father. She and Talbott exchanged looks and without saying a word, managed to have an understanding on how to handle the situation.

With slow steps, Talbott headed toward Luna. He lowered himself to her level; his bent knees supported his weight, as he said with a soft voice- “Luna.”

She jumped away from him, not letting go of her little sister and shoved her wand in front of his face. After a moment of hesitation, she realized who she’s looking at and lowered her wand. Her dirty tears were mixed with make-up and smeared on her cheeks. An expression of complete horror filled her face.

“What happened?” he asked with the same soft voice.

Luna turned to look at Tonks that examined her father’s body and then back at Talbott. She struggled to speak without tears making her choke up, but after a few second of breathing, she said in a trembling voice- “Death Eater. Used the killing curse on them. According to…” her breaths became heavier.

Talbott gently patted her shoulder, whispering- “Take your time.” It helped calm her down enough to keep going.

“According to the state… the state of the bodies…” she wiped out the new tears that emerged from her eyes. “It happened about four hours ago, at least.” She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on her little sister. “The Death Eater left a… a…”

“This.” Tonks said and raised a sheet of paper for Talbott to see. “But I don’t think it was intentional, because it looks like some sort of code.”

Luna’s expression turned from horrified to enraged.

“It’s because of me.” She whispered in an accusatory tone.

“Luna-“ Tonks started to say, but Luna cut her off immediately.

“I don’t want to hear anything from you!” Luna roared. “It’s your fault – THE ORDER’S FAULT!”

“No, it’s-“

“What? A coincidence?!” Luna said furiously. “They knew I help you! That’s why they killed her!”

Tonks looked helpless. Tears starting to fill her eyes as well, but she managed to get a hold of her emotions in time. “No, Luna-“

“SHUT UP!” Luna screamed at her from the top of her lungs and Tonks fell silence.

“Maybe you should get that paper to evidence.” Talbott said calmly, his voice was firm but still compassionate.

Tonks seemed like she didn’t want to leave, but after a few more seconds of silence, nodded her head and apparated.

Luna turned to look at Talbott, tears running down her cheeks again. “I did this.” She started trembling.

Talbott wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “I know how you feel right now.” She was about to say something, but he repeated- “I know.” Their eyes met and were locked in a gaze that expressed the same guilt and pain. They both knew how it feels to lose their family to the Death Eaters.

Luna lowered her head, leaned on his shoulder and started sobbing again. It was a quite cry. A defeated cry.  

After Luna managed to calm down again, Talbott asked- “Where are Jana and Lilia?”

“Gone.” Luna said quietly, unintentionally, because she lost a significant amount of her vocal abilities by exhausting her vocal chords. “Not in the house, but all of their belongings are still here.”

“We’ll find them.” Talbott said. “Alive.” He added when he saw the helpless look on her face.

She shook her head. “They’re dead, I know it.”

“No, they’re not.” He insisted. “I will do everything I can, I swear.”

Luna kept shaking her head, but didn’t say anything else. She knew that Talbott is patiently waiting for her to get over the initial shock, so he could bring a unit to examine the crime scene.

“You can’t be on this case.” She said suddenly. “If the moles knew you’re here-“

“Do you really think Death Eaters haven’t came after me already?” he said with a bitter smile. “Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

“If you die in this house too-“

“No one else is going to die.” He reassured her, gently smearing the fresh tears off her cheeks. “We won’t let them get away with it.”

“No,” Luna shook her head and slowly pulled away from him, still holding onto Olivia’s body. “No, it’s my fault. You will die, everyone will die-!”

“Luna.” He said with a firm voice, but the hysteria got the better of her.

“They know. They’re watching me. I have to disappear. That’s the only way.”

“They were after your father regardless.”

“But Olivia!” She whisper-screamed in panic. “They killed her to send a message!”

“We don’t know that yet-“

“I have to go. You have to go!”

He never saw her like this. Even in the worst situations, Luna was always able to keep a calm appearance and stay levelheaded. Losing her entire family in one day was a shock too extreme to handle, even for someone as strong as her.

She quickly pushed herself to her feet, still hanging onto her dead sister, holding her in her arms like an overgrown child. Talbott followed her, but tried to keep a small distance so not to startle her.

“Funeral.” She murmured. “We have to do it quickly.”

“Luna, let’s put Olivia on the couch for a moment-“

Luna turned her back at him and started to walk from the point she was standing to the nearest wall and back.

“We can’t have it out in the open, it has to remain a secret. There’s a muggle-church nearby-“

“Luna, give me Olivia.” Talbott said and tried to remain calm, even though he started to feel the burden of her pain too. Seeing his closest friend in this condition was heartbreaking.

She ignored him. “I… I have a phone. I can call them. I need to find a spot where the magic won’t block the signal.”

“Stop for a second.” He reached out to her, but she dodged his touch.

“Maybe cremation would be the best option-“

“Luna, stop!” he snapped and grabbed her by the wrist. She looked like she’s just woke up from a dream.

“I… I…” she wasn’t able to finish the sentence.

“I know.” He said and very slowly and gently put his arms around Olivia and pulled her from her big sister’s grasp. He laid her down on the couch and got back to Luna, that buried her face in her palms.

“I’ll help with the funeral, we’ll do it as quickly as you want, but first I have to-“

“Yes.” Luna interrupted, lowering her hands and turn to look straight at him. Her gaze was almost soulless. “You need to examine the bodies.”

“I know you probably want to do it yourself, but you’re not in the right state of mind right now.” He pulled her into another embrace. “If we want to catch these fuckers, we have to do it right.”

Luna sighed loudly and wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Fine, I understand.” She said in a monotone voice. “But I’m not leaving them.”

“There’s no need for that.” He said. “You can stay here the whole time, and I’ll be here too. I promise.”

With another long sigh coming out of her mouth, Talbott knew he got through to her.

-----

I know it’s a bit cliche to say that you can split Luna’s life in two - before she lost her family and after she lost her family, but it also very realistic, since a trauma at this scale can change anyone forever.

She was never the same, especially because she lost Olivia as well - the only person she believed could live a happy and normal life out of her entire family.

Also, I know Jacob is absent, it’s because right now he has two potential paths that I haven’t decided on yet - the first where he dies and the second where he survives... You can call him Schrödinger's cat until I pick one. Either way, he wasn’t there when she found the bodies or had the funeral, so in any case he’s irrelevant.

I wrote a bit more about the situation, but I’ll save it for another post!

For those who read the whole thing - I hope you liked it!

[baka-monarch]

It’s A Small World Chapter 2: Protecting His Honor

Summary: Virgil has a plan to catch Roman being a bad person, but instead finds some feelings he thought disappeared after ninth grade...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: CUSSING, ANXIETY ATTACK

Prologue Chapter 1

“It’s been three days Patt! Three days!!!” Virgil was in a video call with his brother as he packed a bag. “And he still hasn’t done one bad thing!” Currently he’d been explaining the roommate situation to Patton. For the past three days Roman had been a perfect roommate to Virgil, he’d kept the whole dorm clean, he would cook amazing meals for Virgil by waking up before him and having something always prepared for when the emo came back from class, AND he had yet to fall back into his old pattern of bullying Virgil. He had become the perfect roommate, but Virgil wasn’t quite ready to believe the act.

“Well, is that such a bad thing kiddo?” Patton had been listening to his little brother ramble on for the past hour about all the good things Roman had done as if Roman had done something terrible while... packing a bag? “Maybe he has changed?”

“Patton.” Virgil paused his packing. “People like him don’t change that fast.”

“Yeah but-” Patton tried to argue but was cut off as someone peeked at the screen over his shoulder.

“Patton dear, Virgil’s right. People can change but not that fast.” Janus, Patton’s lover, had been the one to cut off their boyfriend.

“Thank you Jan.” Virgil sighed as Patton had gained an exasperated look of defeat.

“No problem kid.” Janus smiled down at the screen, until his eyes caught on the bag Virgil was preparing with curiosity. “I thought you already finished your classes for the week?”

“Oh, I did.” Virgil had started packing it again, now adding a rather large water bottle.“Then why are you packing a bag?” Janus started adding a little motherly sternness to their voice as they said this.

“I uhm…” Virgil paused and looked at the screen, finding himself facing a worried brother and their glaring significant other. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m going to catch him in the act of being a bad person.” He smiled awkwardly, praying they wouldn’t ask more.

“Yes, but why do you need a bag for that?” Of course Jan would ask more, they are a lawyer after all.

“Well…” Virgil swallowed his nerves. He couldn’t lie to them. Literally. Janus always knew when someone was lying. “Remember when Patton would go to school and I would have to stay in his pocket because I was too young to be alone?”

“Oh Virgil…” “Oh kid....” They both seemed to say at the same time with that disappointed parent voice.

“Virgil you could get hurt!” Patton tried to argue as Virgil quickly zipped up the bag needing to escape this conversation.

“Don’t worry, I thought it through all night and I’ll be fine.” Virgil collected the bag onto his bag.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Janus pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Does it matter?” Virgil blushed.

“Kiddo, you need sleep!” Patton worried. “And you can’t just sneak into people’s pockets!” He scolded.

“It’ll be fine Patt,” Virgil argued, but now was starting to doubt himself. “plus,  I have everything I need in this bag.” He slung it onto his shoulders.

“That’s not the point Virgil.” Janus deadpanned. “You should listen to your brother, you could get hurt or worse.” Virgil opened his mouth to argue but Jan beat him to it. “And don’t reference when did it as kids. Patton knew you were in his pocket, Roman won’t. One wrong, unaware move, could seriously injure you and we won’t be there to help. I understand that you want to prove that he isn’t any better than he was in highschool, but there is still three days left in the week, plenty of time to either catch him being that person or to urge him into being like that again. There are other ways.” Virgil stared at the wall. Exhaled. Then closed his laptop.

It was time to get into position. Good thing Roman had left his jacket in the living room last night.

●●●

Roman woke with a start as his alarm blared into his ears. As he checked his phone he found it had actually been going off for the past hour, and he was about to be late to his first day of class.  He jumped out of bed and pulled on his clothes for the day, not bothering with a shower, or brushing his hair and teeth. He ran out of his room and snatched his jacket off the floor and threw it on before grabbing his backpack and slipping into it as he rushed out the door. As Roman ran to class his jacket swung around threatening to spill the contents of it’s pockets, luckily there was nothing in it’s pockets.

Or so Roman thought.

As Roman ran Virgil was on the verge of an anxiety attack as he held on for dear life. It was now that Virgil regretted his plan of hiding in Roman’s jacket pocket. Virgil was sure that if he hadn’t had a death grip on the inside fabric of the pocket he would’ve fallen out and gone ‘Splat!’ on the ground by now. He was lucky that he had decided to pack a backpack and not a different type of bag or he would have definitely lost his supplies by now. Maybe he should have listened to Patton and Janus, there definitely were more options to see Roman not be the perfect Prince Charming he was in the dorm. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back now. For the time being Virgil would have to focus on his breathing and holding onto fabric.

As Roman ran to class Virgil could feel every thump as his pocket hit Roman’s side with every step. Virgil’s heart pace quickened as he could only hear Roman’s pounding footsteps as he stomped down with what sounded like all of his force but Virgil knew Roman was barely touching the ground with how fast he was running, and it was terrifying. Virgil’s mind raced as he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the rest of the world. Breath, just breath. He tried telling himself but it was hard to focus on his thoughts when his ears were pounding from the strain of hearing so many loud sounds, pounding footsteps, a heart beating impossibly fast and loud, breathing that sounded like a tornado, a stomach that just would not stop growling. It felt like hours before Roman burst through what had to be his classroom door, but it had actually been a few minutes.

“Oh thank god… “ Roman exhaled with relief as he had made it on time with a few minutes to spare. He chose a seat off to the side and promptly collapsed in it.  Virgil was relieved as Roman sat down and slid down in the pocket as he finally relaxed, taking a moment to let go of the fabric and rest his fingers. Virgil took this time to calm himself as he listened to Roman’s breathing and rhythmic heartbeat. Once Virgil’s breathing had even, he pulled out his phone-like his backpack it had shrunk with him-and focused on Tumb.lr to defray his nerves.

While Roman waited for the professor to arrive he pulled out his phone and got onto Instagram. Not long after he’d gotten his phone out did he receive a message from someone he thought he’d blocked. Heather. His ex from highschool. She had sent him a picture of him sitting in class from the back of the room he was in, with the caption: “didn’t know you’d be here lover boy~” with a heart. Roman took a moment to glance behind him, and sure enough in the very back of the classroom, was the makeup covered, plastic, fake, bitch, Heather. Roman took a moment. Screamed internally. Then blocked Heather on Instagram again. He held back a laugh as he heard her noises of disbelieving offense, but did allow himself to gain a satisfied smile.

“Do you how do, class?” Someone exclaimed as they walked through the door. “I am your teacher,  Professor Picani.” He smiled as he gave them all a small bow. “And I am here to teach you about acting!” He smiled brightly. “But for today, let’s get acquainted with each other, shall we? All you have to do today is talk to each other, have fun you sassy lassies.” With that Picani sat at his desk and watched over the room as students took the opportunity to talk to get crazy. Everyone immediately surrounded one desk as someone had pulled out a couple of prop swords and was setting up duels for everyone.

Roman was halfway out of his seat to join them when Heather appeared in front of him saying, “So Roman,” she leaned over him with her hand on his desk, preventing him from moving. Virgil stiffened at her voice, easily recognizing it.  “I didn’t think you would be able to afford going here, did you just miss me that much?” She smiled innocently as Roman grimaced.

“No, I got a scholarship for doing theater.” He deadpanned, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to be over. Virgil listened closely from his pocket, surprised by Roman’s harsh tone. Hadn’t he been dating Heather?

“Ooooohhhh.” She said, feigning ignorance. “So they took pity on you and emo fucker?” Virgil flinched at the nickname, but surely now Roman would give up the act?

“No, I think we earned going here.” Roman was curt, cutting his words making them sharp. “Unlike you who paid them to let you in, but just because you’re hee that doesn’t give you the right to say that.”

“Say what? Emo fucker?” She smiled with innocence but a dangerous gleam could be seen in her eyes. She leaned in close to Roman and from the pocket Virgil could feel the shift in atmosphere, both the tension and the heat radiating from the two giant bodies that were now close together. Virgil shifted uncomfortably and scooted back closer to Roman, although he may not like the prep they were better than the bitch any day. Roman gained a look of disgust as he leaned away from her. “Ya know, I heard that you share a dorm with him. Are you an emo fucker, Slut.” Roman promptly blushed and pushed her away from him. As Heather stumbled back she smiled mischievously. Virgil was blushing as he got startled by Roman’s sudden movement to push the bitch away.

“Get away from me!” Roman had exclaimed as he’d pushed her. She just chuckled darkly at him.

“So you are a gay looser?”  She gained a sinister smile. “Just like that emo fuck up.” She purred.

“You have no right to talk about him in that way!” Roman exclaimed surprising Virgil. “You can say and do whatever you want about me but you never even talked to him, got to know him, you have no right to treat him the way you do.” Virgil was dumbstruck. Did… did Roman just defend him? 

“Oh, and you did?” Heather retorted striking Roman speechless. “That’s what I thought.” With that she walked away leaving Roman to his own devices. Virgil just sat there listening to Roman slow breathing and quick heartbeat. He didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t trust his feelings right now considering the immense heat he could feel spreading across his face. He huddled further into the pocket-not cuddled, he would never cuddle up to Roman! He closed his eyes and decided to take a small nap for now…

●●●

Later that night Virgil crawled out of Roman’s pocket after the prep had fallen asleep and returned to his room in disappointment, having not found what he was looking for. When he finally got back to his usual size he collapsed into bed and checked his phone to find hundreds of messages from both Patton and Janus asking what happened and if he was okay. Instead of texting back, he recorded a little voice message.

“ ‘m fine… Roman might be cute again, updates in the morning…” Then, he slept. 

Next Chapter =>

Tag list: @unevencube2554 @bullet-tothefeels @carryondrawing

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 2: Not What He Seems

Summary: With their new glitch in the system captured, the heroes need to figure out what to do.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

After they had finally caught him, Logan didn’t scream or hiss at them. He was entirely too calm, just sitting within the circle, seemingly meditating or sleeping. One leg knit under the other, his back perfectly straight, and his eyes closed.

It wasn’t until Marvin walked in that Logan seemed to glare at him with unfathomable hatred, and because Nate and Bing were close enough that they watched his pupils dilate with robotic precision.

He didn’t say anything, just staring at Marvin and Nate.

“Logan?” Joan came as close as he was allowed. “You okay, buddy?”

The trapped Suit broke eye contact with Marvin to look at Joan. To them he seemed perfectly normal. His normal polo shirt and square glasses. His mouth was its usual flat line. “I am more than sufficient.”

To Joan, Logan didn’t look like a demon. He looked like he always had.

“Hey big guy,” Marvin smiled, leaning down a bit with his hands on his knees. “Don’t worry, we’ll make yeh[1] feel better soon.”

“When I get out of this, I will shove your tongue through your larynx and make a xylophone out of your rib cage,” Logan threatened Marvin.

“Yikes,” Marvin commented, the venom in the threat surprising everyone. “What did I do? Piss in yer[2] coffee?”

“If you had just done that I would have killed you outright and been done with it,” Logan didn’t even blink.

“How far gone is he?” Marvin asked, “I’ve ne’er[3] seen one go through a shift.”

“Hard to say,” Nate sighed. “He should still be within the first stages, but he’s got all the signs of a fully turned demon.”

“Would twenty fookin[4] years be enough?” Marvin suggested.

Nate shook his head, “No, he would have much more apparent signs that the process was starting.”

Ethan and Chase ran in, Ethan was looking around, “You guys catch him?”

Then he stiffened nervously, “Oh there he is, is that Logan, he doesn’t look like a demon.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, he reeks of glitch demon aura,” Mare told him. Mare got dangerously close to the circle, hoping for a territorial reaction but Logan just stared at him. “He’s been coached. He should be hissing at me. He should be doing something.”

Logan just stared at him, not blinking and not defending or rejecting Mare’s accusation.

“So who got you that body?” Mare asked. “I know you’re in one.”

“Perhaps you should go and pleasure yourself with a cactus, you might find your answers there,” Logan told Mare.

“Points for creativity, Pixels,” Mare smiled and he could have sworn he saw the shadow of a smug smile on his face.

“How far along is he?” Ethan asked, kneeling next to Logan but not within arm’s reach. “I didn’t know people could turn into demons.”

“They do it all the time, if there’s enough trauma to the soul to cause it,” Mare explained.

Bing suddenly raced out of the room, he’d been trying to get the base off the lockdown protocol and the instant he did was flooded with messages and warnings. The city was in a crisis while they’d been off line. “Battle stations, everyone. There’s something wrong.”

Wade, Jackie, and Marvin raced out with Bing as Mare and Nate hesitated next to Logan. Ethan was right behind the three and Jackie had already dashed off to the comms room as fast as the corners allowed.

Once the three remaining heroes had cleared the doorway, “Ethan” elbowed through a piece of weak glass and pressed in a code before hitting the big button that sealed the entryway and the common room from the rest of the base.

Wade turned around to see the smile on Hearts’s face as the door shut closed and the anti-magic wards came up to protect the base from magical intruders.

“The hell, Crank,” Nate shouted.

“Chase” took out a baton and slammed it into Mare, and caused the demon’s tentative corporeal form to shatter apart and rush for Nate’s body for safety. The sudden rush of aura caused Nate to collapse and drop to the ground, unconscious.

“Five minutes,” Chase set his watch.

“We won’t even need two,” Ethan chuckled as he took something off his belt and cuffed Nate’s hands in magic-nullifying cuffs. Then he pulled up a chair and smiled at Logan. The Suit made a pretty pathetic mockery of Logan’s voice. “I’m not gonna get captured, I know what I’m doing. I’m fuckin’ Logan. I’m hot shit in a fucking champagne glass.”

“Enough,” Logan glared at him.

“Oooh, I can go through walls, I’m unstoppable” Ethan taunted.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Logan growled, clearly angry.

Ethan leaned forward, the tip of his nose centimeters from crossing the circle’s barrier, “So how’s Patton?”

“Safe,” Logan promised, his tone dangerous. “I told you, he doesn’t feel anything anymore. Complete topor.”

“I know not to trust a demon,” Ethan reminded. “ Especially when they’re trying to sell me bullshit. I saw him when you took him out last time. He was looking bad.”

“He’s fine,” Logan snarled. “I have the situation under control. He is not a threat, he is sleeping.”

“Fine, let me hold him, and I’ll let you back out,” Ethan proposed.

“You are not taking him anywhere,” Logan growled. “He is mine.”

“You demons are just sad, old bastards who can’t let the past die,” Ethan reminded. “If you actually cared you’d take Patton out into the Mojave and I don’t know, turn him loose. Not like he’s gonna start killing immediately. You guys don’t lose everything day one, right?”

Then bangs on the door began in earnest and Chase glared at Ethan, “Two minutes, huh?”

“Hey math, wasn’t my strong suit,” Ethan chuckled and broke the circle with his foot. Logan immediately rushed for the door. He was out first before slamming into the barrier that had been designed to keep Lunky in now kept Logan in.

Chase caught up and his hand went through the back Logan’s chest and grabbed the handle of a blue solid state drive, a single golden heart locket hanging from the notch on the drive. the nanites surged into the drive just before Chase took him through the boundary. Ethan was hot on his heels as they raced out. They stilled to a halt at the sight of the huge black energy dome that covered over half the town.

“Well that was fast,” Ethan said as he looked up. “What is this, the second time we’ve seen the dome?”

“Yeah,” Chase commented and brought up a nanite shield and braced as Jackie slammed into it. “Fookin’[4] go!”

The nanites surged around the solid state drive and Logan appeared, his eyes still glowing a fierce blue for a couple seconds after forming.

“I’ll get the generator,” Logan called out as Ethan disappeared with his invisibility. He took a step before Bing was facing towards him with a laser.

“Yer not goin’ anywhere,”[5] Bing warned.

“Crank, where are yeh[1]?” Marvin demanded angrily. “I just wanna[6] talk.”

“The hell are yeh fookers?”[7] Jackie spat at Chase. “Yer[8] not Average.”

Jackie felt a ripple of time wash over them and at first felt relief, until he was suddenly face-first on the asphalt, Bing was a block down from them and fighting with Logan, and Marvin felt already drained of some magic in a fight he couldn’t remember.

Then there was the harsh force of a foot stomped into Jackie’s back. “Why don’t you take a rest, ol’[9] boy?”

Jackie felt horror coursing through his system, a matching look on Marvin’s face. The speeder knew that voice, he hadn’t heard it in years and it was half buried by a filter, but the cadence was the same.

He looked up to see J.J standing there, his foot planted squarely on Jackie’s back. He should have felt relief that he was here to help. But all he felt was a cold chill.

J.J was mute. Magic nor medicine had helped after Anti’s first attack against him and his emerging powers had destroyed his vocal cords.

And the idea of fighting another J.J terrified him.

“You seem troubled, old boy,” J.J had a smile on his face, his voice sounded like an old timey radio announcer, but that voice was fed through a crackling speaker of some kind.

“No,” a slow dawning washing over Séan like an ice bath. How the imposters had gotten so close. How they had managed to stay unseen for so long. And how none of them had been reset to prevent it.

If not for Joan’s text who knows how long they would have gotten away with it?

“How?” Jackie asked. “What’d yah do ta J.J?”[10]

“Well the lad wouldn’t keep helping us so he had to take a little vacation,” false-J.J admitted. “He should be back in about two weeks.”

“What do yeh[1] want with us?” Jackie demanded. “We got somethin’ yeh want?”[11]

That question earned Jackie a smile, and moved to open his mouth but another ripple in time happened and J.J jumped back just in time to not get hit by Silver who was flying by. Bob and Amy charging in at the same time. Bob’s shield hitting something as he was rolling in. Which was Ethan, and it caused his invisibility to go out for a second which let Marvin blast him with magic and Ethan was further knocked back.

“Googs, now is not the time ta grow a ****in’ conscious, help me catch ‘im!”[12] Bing shouted as he was chasing Logan back towards the base who was shooting from electrical outlet to electrical outlet trying to escape towards the Gainesville part of the city. Google wasn’t that far behind.

Chase’s arm was covered with nanites and he snagged Logan out of the air, pulling out his solid state drive by the handle. Marvin watched the little locket jingle. “Hold it, hold it Lo.”

There was an angry crackle of electricity before Logan reformed as Bing and Google followed him out of the closest electrical outlet or bundle of wires.

The heroes and villains around the area facing down against the Suits as the dome loomed overhead in the city’s skyline.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. you

2. your

3. never

4. fucking

5. You’re not going anywhere

6. want to

7. Who the hell are you fuckers?

8. You’re

9. old

10. What did you do to J.J?

11. We got something you want?

12. Googs, now is not the time to grow a fucking conscious, help me catch him!

[heli0s-writes]

I. What's in a name (that which we call a Bucky)

Summary: What kind of name is BUCKY? Your dog's name is BUCKEYE. Much better. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: A more humorous work... be alert: everyone in this fic is a lil shit. Dog-lover reader. Enemies to friends to lovers and strap in kiddos, we’re going to Ohio!

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s past midnight when the bell on your doorknob titters. A high-pitched whine follows the noise and you drop the book in your hand before emitting a loud groan of annoyance. As a response to your complaint, footsteps quickly pad back towards the computer room you sit in.

“God damn it,” you scold towards the door, “I just took you out like an hour ago.”

It’s half-serious, half-playful as you point a finger towards the 50-pound mass of pure muscle now pitifully cocking his head to the side. Your dog, Buckeye, lovingly named after your alma-mater’s mascot whines pathetically as he falls forward onto his two front paws and gives you the saddest look he can muster. The slate-grey skin between his eyes bends upwards in crinkly folds as he continues to peer at your perched figure on the swivel chair.

You shuffle your desk space around, placing the heavy tome from your hand over the mountain of other paperbacks scattered about. Taking one final look over the paper you’d been working on for the last two weeks, you hit save, making sure it uploads itself to the online drive before stepping away.

The clock on the lower right-hand corner of your monitor reads 2:30. Fuck. Way more than past midnight. You had been so focused on writing you didn’t even realize how late it was. Sending an apologetic look to your dog, you rub his ear before heading down the hallway and grabbing the leash by the door. Poor guy, you hadn’t taken him out in almost four hours.

He’s striding towards you, tail wagging back and forth at the sight of your hand on the leash. His tongue flops out stupidly and you giggle at how dumb he looks. Before clipping the leash to his collar, you give him a big kiss on the head and push your face affectionately. He’d come such a long way in the past five months.

“Okay, big baby. Let’s go.”

The training bell hanging from the knob flails against the door as you step outside, closing it shut.

You and Buckeye head downstairs, your slippers squishing against the wet grass as he leads you over to his favorite sniffing grounds. Under the lamp, you scroll on your phone distractedly, making sure you’d replied to all the e-mails you had received earlier in the day. Eyeing him from time to time to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to, you tap out a quick response to a group message from some classmates. They’re probably awake at this time anyway, you muse bitterly, graduate school can be a real bitch like that. Tucking the phone into your back pocket, you fiddle a doggy bag from its container strapped to the leash and maneuver it over your hand.

“No sniffing that poo.” You command Buckeye, and he gazes back over his shoulder at you for a single brief second, as if truly contemplating your authority before giving it a quick whiff anyway. You scoff before tugging him from the pile and further back into the grass. “C’mon, Buck. Dude, I gotta get back in. Please poop. The bag’s ready for you.”

You wave it around helplessly as he traipses on, keeping close, but really pushing your patience. Ten minutes later, you decide you’ve had it with him and start tugging him back towards the sidewalk. He resists at first and you have to use your “mom” voice a couple of times before he follows your lead and drags himself back to your side.

This was the usual routine of your life: wake up, go to campus, work on campus, work from home, find time to eat, work some more, go to bed. In-between all of those activities was of course, take Buckeye outside to jog, pee, shit, and socialize… when he was up for it.

You “adopted” the big lug from the shelter six months ago, falling head over heels for that stupid white oblong patch (you called it his Penis Patch because c’mon… it looked like one) and that wrinkly-ass forehead of his. He had been abused as a puppy and then abandoned in an alleyway with a handful of other pit bulls. By the time he got to the animal shelter, he was massively underweight and terrified of being near humans. He was only two months old. It took a lot of work on your end to get him back to a normal weight and as much as people loved to praise how you “saved” him- it was honestly the opposite that happened.

Yes. It was cheesy and gross as fuck to admit out loud, but that dumb animal actually saved you.

If you hadn’t adopted him and decided he was going to be your tether to this fuck-ass world, you were cock-sure you’d have tied yourself a noose out of bedsheets already. It’s what you told your therapist because it was just the damn truth.

The spring air of Manhattan whips over your face as you make your way towards the stairs of your unit, taking glances here and there to make sure nothing scary was happening. Your location was relatively safe, but honestly, you never know with people. You had seen your fair share of frightening and inexplicable things from your time in New York.

As if you were summoning the bad luck to your doorstep, gunshots ring out from a few blocks away. At least you hope it is, because the echo throughout your apartment unit suggests that it’s much closer. Buckeye starts twitching, darting left and right at the sound. You’re steeling your body as he begins to pull and snap at him with your fingers, calling his name. He heads quickly towards the apartment. Another shot resonates between the buildings.

On your right, Buckeye lets out a high-pitched yelp and jumps as rapid footsteps approach behind you. You barely make it two steps out of the way before a heavy body barrels into you and knocks you onto the sidewalk. Both your knees hit the concrete hard and you immediately roll to your side and fumble to find the leash that fell from hand. Your dog is losing it, and frankly, you are about to as well.

He starts to take off towards the darkness of the grass and you’re screaming his name, trying to scramble up to catch the plastic handle of the retractable leash that’s dragging against the ground. His tongue is loose and panting as he whips his head back and forth between you and the darkness, unsure of where to go.

“Come here! Come!”

You ignore the searing in your kneecaps and reach out as you take a step. Before you can make it much farther, an arm swings itself over your neck and strangles the rest of your words.

A single shot fires off at your dog. Buckeye is outta there. He’s yelping the whole way and you cannot stop yourself from shrieking.

“Don’t fucking speak.” A voice growls behind you. The body it belongs to is distinctly masculine as they knee you in the back and prop you up to stand beside them. The cold barrel of a gun presses itself against your temple and you freeze, hands quivering at your sides. Your heart has either imploded or is about to because you can’t tell if it’s beating or not anymore. There is ringing in your ears from the gun being fired in such close quarters, your eyes struggle to focus.

You have so many questions, but your mind is currently a squirrel in traffic running between the front axle of two tires labelled: “Is this where I fucking die?” and “Is my dog okay?”. Getting splattered to bits by either one was dealer’s choice, and your dealer didn’t seem too choosy.

In the distance, footsteps approach and you see two large frames enter your blurry field of vision, lit up under the streetlamp. There are two glimmering silver shapes reflecting that flickering light, one in the shape of a … dinner plate? And the other… another dick. What the hell? Oh god, you think automatically about your dick-spot-shaped dog. Where is he?

“Let her go!” the dinner plate yells. The barrel presses further into your head.

“Drop your weapons!” your assailant calls back, “Or she dies!”

You’re in a bad procedural cop show or something, you swear. Or Ashton Kutcher is 50 years old and he is laughing his ass off in a van right now, filming a new season of Punk’d. You squeeze your eyes shut when the gun clicks against your head, which is generally right after it goes off, according to the movies. There’s a warm sensation against your back and you hope to god that it isn’t you pissing yourself. When you smell the coppery scent rising, you realize it’s the man’s blood. When he sways a little and your body droops with him, you are positive it’s his blood.

The funny silver California/dick shape in the distance moves and becomes a small circle, with a dark spot in the middle. Is that a fucking gun? You blink a couple of times to see the shadowy outlines of the two people stepping closer. There’s aggravated whispering from both of them and your attacker begins to yell about something before a deafening blast cracks past your eyes.

Warm blood sprays on your face when the man falls backwards, heavy limb taking you down with him. You get some of it in your mouth and you scramble to fuck off as far as you can from this now dead body. The two shapes are running towards you, one of them gripping you hard by the arm and pulling you up.

“Buckeye! That is not protocol!”

You dizzily shake your head at the sound of your dog’s name and find your balance on the sidewalk, toes pressing against your slipper to have it back on your foot correctly. In front of you were two enormous men, and you recognize them immediately: Captain America and Winter Soldier.

“You know I don’t miss.” The Soldier retorts, bottom half of his face obscured by his signature black latex mask. It muffles his voice, but you can clearly hear the agitation. Captain America looks over your dripping red knees. “You okay, ma’am?”

You ignore him. As far as you are concerned at this point, they’re both just as dead to you as this other fucker on the ground. You want to find your dog.

“Buck?” You call into the patch of darkness as you carefully tread into the grass, wincing when your knees sting with every step. You don’t see the two Avengers looking at each other in confusion.

“BUCK!” You scream again, panic returning to your chest as you think about your dog scurrying around in the dark, dragging his damn leash, and spiraling back into the hot mess he was six months ago. Damn it, it had taken you so long to train him out of being skittish, and now he was going to be right back in it. You look around the dark, turning the flashlight on your phone and follow what looks like to be a trail of blood. It’s not yours, so you correctly deduce it’s Buckeye.

You start to hyperventilate, shaking with every step.

“Oh, Buck, you piece of shit you, I swear to god, if you’re dead, I’m going to kill you.”

“…Ma’am?”

You whip around and glare at Captain America, “What!” He takes a step back, hands coming up as if to deflect your outcry. His partner next to him places his gun back in the holster at his hip with a quiet click, eyeing you suspiciously. Captain America looks around, like he’s surprised you’ve yelled, because he probably doesn’t get yelled at very often by people he saves.

“…Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Th’ broad’s mental.” The Soldier scoffs, heading back towards the limp body on the ground. He digs his hands into every pocket of the corpse, even opening the mouth to peer inside. “We need to move this body.” He pulls out a tiny USB from a sewn-on pocket inside the vest and puts it in a pouch on his belt.

“I’m looking for my damn dog.” You hurl, “I’m looking for my fucked-up rescue dog, who was doing very well and on his way to being a proper good boy, before you fucks came along and shot him!”

You hear yourself being more and more hysterical with every syllable. Your pitch is increasing with your heart rate, and the part of you that fears retribution from super soldiers is raising its hand up to be called on by your dominant lizard-brain. Your lizard-brain is soaked in fear and refuses the hand.

“That guy shot your dog.” The Soldier nudges the body with a steel-toed boot.

“You scared him! He’s afraid of loud noises and you were shooting up the place, you trigger-happy motherfucker,” you point a finger to the offending Avenger, “You could have shot me, you bag of limp dicks.”

Winter Soldier lets your insults slide; you’re definitely off your meds, he thinks. “Like I said, I don’t miss.”

Captain America finally snaps his shield back onto his back and runs a hand through his hair. You’re half surprised he’s not wearing that dorky-ass helmet he’s usually sporting but turn around regardless and start walking faster, ignoring the muddier ground the further you go in. From the position next to the soon-to-be chalk outline, the two Avengers argue quietly before one of them groans and they both fall silent. You figure they’ve kissed and made up.

Grass is shuffling behind you as Captain America effortlessly catches up to your uneven steps.

“I can track your dog. Let me help.”

You say nothing because you’re so preoccupied with being pissed off that this happened in the first place and because you honestly couldn’t refuse the help regardless of how overinflated your pride was. You couldn’t see for shit in the dark and you’d rather have Buckeye back than any amount of satisfaction flinging insults could bring. Stepping back, you let Brown-Beard take the lead and follow him through the mud and into the back of a unit now five buildings away.

When you slip on a particularly wet patch, he’s quick to grab your elbow and support you. He also takes it as an opening to make conversation.

“What’s type of dog is…”

“Buckeye.” You say, pulling your elbow away and falling back into step. He turns around and raises a single eyebrow.

“Buck…eye?” The second syllable is dropped low- as if he’s unsure that it’s the right thing to say.

“….Yes. Buckeye.” You hiss back.

“Buck…eye.” He repeats again, moving the sounds around in his mouth carefully. You pull a face but say nothing. Boy they sure like to make ‘em big and dumb, don’t they?

“He’s a pit bull. He’s gray with a white patch on his chest. He’s not fucking lethal or anything- like people think he’s just… damaged. He’s not even full-grown; just an oversized ball of anxiety and post-traumatic stress.” Your voice becomes distressed the more you talk about your good boy, and you decide to shut up before you can burst into tears.

“We’ll find him, promise.” Captain tries to send you a smile, but it gets misplaced in the thick of his beard and you’re not even looking anyway, pretending to follow the trail so he doesn’t see your eyes well up. You’re thankful for his help. But fuck him still; he scared your dog.

“There’s no more blood, which is good,” He says, “Steps are getting closer together, so he’s not running anymore. There’s a funny… thing- though. What’s he dragging?”

“His leash.” You mutter.

“Ah.” There’s a pause, “You know, that’s actually a good thing- it’ll slow him down.”

 It’s at least another twenty minutes of walking in silence as you follow Captain Star Spangled Banner out of your apartment complex and down three completely decrepit alleyways, at least one littered with broken glass. Upon entering the fourth one, you swear you hear clattering in the back and pick up your speed, calling out.

“Buck? Buckeye? Is that you?” Your voice is quivering in the dark. Your companion has stilled beside you, not letting his footsteps drown out your voice. “Buckeye, come here.” You’re as careful as can be as you quietly step forward, a tiny bit closer to the slow shadow in the corner.

When a car drives by on the main road, the shine of headlights reflects two glowing blue pearls that you’d recognize anywhere. His tail is wagging happily against the pavement of the alleyway, and it breaks your heart to see he’s battered in blood.

You put both your arms around him to settle him from possibly scurrying away at the sight of Captain’s figure, who hangs in the back, but is still so large that it disturbs Buckeye. “My big guy,” You sob into his stupid, dirty neck, “You’re all muddy... Oh Buck, you big idiot… you dummy.”

You find the handle on the leash again, but Buckeye is tentative to follow, stumbling when he stands up on all four feet. When you lean over to examine him, he’s all cut up on his paws and you see it now, the big streak of open flesh on his upper thigh that’s crusted over into a brown stripe. The shiny fur that’s beneath it is matted with more dried blood and it’s so large that you break out into tears all over again. You don’t think he’s able to walk anymore, which might have worked out in your favor; it did stop him from running.

Captain slowly makes his way toward the two of you and reach both hands out, kneeling and laying one gently underneath Buckeye’s snout to scratch him. Your dog inspects the hand nervously before giving it a quick lick. He pants happily at the scratch to his chin and you can’t help but snort at his simplicity. Captain offers to pick him up for you and you let him, surprised that Buck’s letting someone other than you be so close. You’re glad for it, though, since you would not have been able to pick him up out of the alleyway on your own.

“I’ve been compared to a Golden Retriever before,” Captain says amiably as he easily holds Buckeye in his arms, leading you out of the dark path. He’s got a glint in his eye like he’s real proud of himself for that quip. “I definitely think of myself as a dog person.”

You scoff and save your retort for another time, pointing him in the direction of your local pet emergency hospital instead.

-

It must have been a sight for them, Steve ponders as he sits in the waiting chair of the hospital, giving away smiles at the receptionists and nurses who occasionally gather to stare at him. When the automatic doors slid open, they probably weren’t expecting Captain America in full tactical gear to walk in with a dog in his arms. Not to mention the young woman who followed, looking in not much better shape than the dog.

He glances over to you as you lean back in the plastic chair resembling more of a bucket than anything comfortable. Both your knees are completely skinned raw and the trail of blood reached your feet, caked in mud. The woman at the front desk offered you some bandages and antiseptic, which you’d haphazardly sloshed all over yourself before resigning to let it be. Your eyes have slipped closed as you wait for the nurse to come talk to you about your dog; it is late, after all—nearly four in the morning, and Steve lets you rest when he hears your breathing slow.

He begins to check his phone, punching in a text to Bucky with updates, barely able to hold back the giddy energy inside of him. Bucky was going to flip when Steve cracks open the can of worms that is the dog’s name. And it’s going to completely boil his noodle when he hears that your description of your dog almost perfectly matched Steve’s own description of Bucky. He swears right now, under these old fluorescent lights and with God’s blessing that he would never, ever, let Bucky live this down.

“You… use…a … flip… phone?” Your disbelieving voice is so quiet that Steve thinks a ghost is making fun of him.

“Well, it does flip, and it is a phone.” He retorts, face completely blank for a couple of seconds before breaking out into a smirk.

Your sit up in the chair, looking over to Steve incredulously. “Who are you, my dad?” Your features twist into a disgusted sneer, but he catches the amusement in your eyes.

He chuckles in response. It’s not the first time Steve’s been told that his jokes were corny, at this point in his life, he’s decided to just go with it.

“Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe more Avenging in another quiet neighborhood?” The snark comes out sharper than you intend it, but between the two hours of sleep last night and probable zero hours of sleep you’ll get tonight, you’re on autopilot.

“It’s being taken care of.” He stares straight ahead. Your comment implies that you’d rather him leave, but he feels in part responsible and obligated to stay. Besides, you’ll need a ride home and someone to carry your pet to the door. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

“He’s not fucking dead,” You huff, “If he was, you and Bicentennial Man would be fucked. You won’t believe how many knives I can carry in my mouth alone.”

Steve almost gives himself whiplash as he does a double-take on your completely placid and unfazed profile view. He thinks it’s better not to ask about the capacity of knives your mouth can hold or about how you know that very specific fact about yourself. However, he can’t help from letting out a wheeze of a laugh because the feral image frankly reminds him more and more of Bucky; Steve has definitely seen Bucky with a knife in his mouth.

Another fifteen minutes pass of drifting in and out of sleep before the nurse peeks her head out and calls you into the treatment room. She stares open-mouthed when Steve followed dutifully behind and closes the door with a quiet click.

Buckeye is lying in a lethargic daze on the table with a plastic cone around his neck. The large gash on his leg has been stitched and carefully covered by gauze and his paws are bandaged up as well. At the sight of the two of you, his tail begins to pat slowly against the smooth surface of the table in quick taps before trailing off and starting back up again. He is looking into your eyes, but Steve can see his gaze wander around the room in a medicated stupor from time to time.  

His stomach tightens when you begin to sniffle and draw lazy circles on Buckeye’s head with your thumb. The nurse runs over the health diagnostic for your pup and all seems pretty well, considering the doleful state he’s in.

“He might not eat for the first day, but you’ll have to try to make him...” The nurse hands you a large zip-loc full of bandages, ointments, pills, and paper. “Keep the cone on for at least two weeks and stick to the dosage schedule… Do you have any questions?”

You shake your head, rifling through the various items in the bag before zipping it back up.

“Okay. Well, he’s doing really good, and I think he’ll make a speedy recovery soon.” The nurse offers you a smile and you reply kindly, thanking her for everything before sighing at Buckeye. Steve steps forward in the silent moment and scoops your dog’s tired body into his arms before thanking the nurse as well. She goes white as a sheet when you open the door to let him out. Steve hopes there won’t be any tweets later about Captain America saving puppies.

 At the front desk, Steve watches you shuffle side to side when the receptionist rings up each cost. Dressed in an oversized Ohio shirt and pajama shorts, it’s obvious you are not prepared for this. You were probably just a college student, and since he didn’t see you make any phone calls to your parents or family members who might foot the bill, he assumes you’re on your own. Before the receptionist can hand you anything, Steve shifts and tilts his right leg forward.

“Can you reach into this pocket?” He asks, startling everyone in the vicinity: you, the receptionist, and your dog. You stare at him dumbly for a minute, grimacing at the leg pointed in your direction and the back-and-forth Captain America’s eyes keep sending you. It goes from your face to his pocket and every time it returns to your face your frown drops more.

“What?”

“For my wallet.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon… I don’t think you have any other options,” the sentence hangs on a truth you don’t need spoken. You pale and begrudgingly reach for the snap closure on his thigh, widening grimace now making your face look like a melted Dali painting. The receptionists’ eyebrows go higher and higher the closer your shaking hand gets. Captain America bounces his leg to shake the leather case loose as your hand digs inside and gets stuck between fabric and muscle. Buckeye grumbles in his arms at the jostling and his holder whispers a quiet apology before nuzzling him with his nose.

He doesn’t notice you staring. The receptionist does.

When the wallet is finally pried free (why are his pants so tight, anyway? This bitch is dummy thicc, too, you think) he motions for you to pull out a black card with a surprising bit of heft to it. You nervously hand it over and avoid eye contact with him as the transaction finishes, stuffing the damn thing back in and snapping it shut in one swift motion. You can feel your face stuck in a rigid expression of bewilderment the entire time.

“I-- uh... thanks... for that.”

He motions you with his head to go outside and when you follow him through the automatic doors, a black car is parked in front. The Winter Soldier is in the driver seat and reaches over to open the door. He’s taken his mask off and looks over at the Captain with your dog in his arms. He’s all stubbly and homeless-looking, you think, the complete opposite of Golden Boy Rogers in front of you.

An exhausted look passes over his dark features as he glances from Captain to Buckeye to your fucked-up knees. “...Just... get in.”

 The ride is silent save for the sound of Buckeye’s soft whimpers in the fit of a nightmare. You hush him with soft pets and coo his name in his ears. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m here, Bucky.”

The Soldier snaps his gaze up to you from the rearview mirror. Captain America smirks. You catch neither of their expressions, transfixed on your dog who resembles Frankenweenie more than himself. Stupid fucking bad guy. Stupid Avengers.

“What did you just say?” Winter Soldier slowly asks, and you glare at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?” You snap back. What the fuck was his problem? “Mind your fucking business, I’m talking to my goddamn dog.” Buckeye whimpers again and you pat him lightly to soothe his crying. Captain America begins to chuckle quietly from the passenger seat the longer Winter Soldier stares at you. “Eyes on the fucking road.” You hiss when you catch his glare.

He’s probably going to shoot your ass, you think. Your dog begins to whimper again, a broken string of yowling erupting from him before he stills. The taped gauze on his side has started to turn a slight pink. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” You sigh.

“Jesus, what the fuck are you saying?” Winter Soldier nearly shrieks as he pulls sharply into a parking space in front of your building. His volume startles your dog and he shoots up with a loud whine, hitting the plastic cone on the back of the driver’s side. You quickly place both hands on his back to settle him down. “Buckeye, it’s okay.”

Captain America is in a full-on giggle fit now, having to hold his sides to stop himself from seizing. He briefly pauses to apologize and puts a hand on your dog’s head, quieting him with a lazy pet.

“It’s her dog, Buck!” “Yeah I know it’s my dog, Buck.” You snarl, confused as to why this is even a topic of discussion.

Red, white, and shit-for-brains starts up again with the laughing. “Th-the dog’s name--” He wheezes. “Is Buckeye.” There’s a flash of recognition that sweeps over the driver’s reflection in the rearview before it turns into one of annoyance. Then it turns into disdain.

“What kind of a fucking name is that?” He spits before smacking his hand into Captain America’s chest.

“Hey! Shut the hell up! That’s my alma mater you uneducated dickbag!” You point to your red Ohio State shirt with the big “O” right in the middle. It’s so worn and old that the red has faded, and the white print of the O is all cracked, but anyone with two braincells knows exactly what that means. You start bellowing the Ohio State Fight Song proudly and halfway through the second note Buckeye starts to howl weakly beside you.

Captain America bursts into another fit of laughter and pounds on the dashboard with his fists.

The Soldier whips around and slams his metal hand against your mouth, pushing your entire head back against the cushion. “Will you shut up!” To spite him, you continue humming to the best of your ability, even with your lip smushed up against your teeth and his cold palm. You raise your middle finger up between his eyes before holding the last note out particularly long.

Buckeye yowls and yips at your side, punctuating the tune with a quiet whine at the end. He lazily reaches up and licks the elbow joint between the front seat, leaving a slobber trail. He notices his reflection in it temporarily before getting distracted by Captain’s chuckle and lying back down.

Winter Soldier finally pulls his arm away and you take the opportunity to spitefully lick a similar stripe onto his palm, leaving it dripping with the spit you’ve accumulated in your mouth.

He crossly slumps in his seat. “I fucking hate this girl.” He mutters.

“It’s mutual, princess.” You retort, rubbing your stiff jaw and running your fingers against your lips. “What’s your problem with my dog’s name?” You’re a bit suspicious because he doesn’t seem like a college sports guy since he was non-responsive to your shirt but he sure as hell is not a fan of your dog.

“Do you know our names?” Captain America asks you, eyes alight. You shrug, because like, not really. World War II was interesting when you were in the sixth grade and morbid as fuck but it totally went in one ear and out the other for your entire college career. Even more boring was the Captain America propaganda, Super Soldier serum, humanity’s hubris bullshit. You were one of the few people you know who was not losing their mind when Tony Stark toured your university. More than anything, he annoyed you; he caused a huge traffic jam on campus and it ruined your route home. They just weren’t your thing—the Avengers.

“I mean, Stevie Ro… Rober—“ you gauge his reaction carefully, “Ronald— Ro— Ross? Rogers!” You breathe a sigh of relief as he memory of Emily Booth in fourth period doodling “Rogers” inside a million hearts appears in your mind. Then you turn to The Soldier and shrug. Plain as day, you could not recall his name whatsoever. You just called him the Dead Commando in that fourth period American History II final paper.

You got a passing grade, so “Dead Commando” stuck.

“It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“That’s fancy.” You deadpan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Bucky. For short.”

“Buck, for even shorter.” Rogers pipes up, still all twinkly in the eyes, waiting for you to put two and two together. Yeah. You do. It makes you want to die a little.

“Ugh.” Is all you can manage.

--

He shows up the next morning in civvies: white T-shirt, navy blue bomber jacket, and well-worn dark jeans. You stare dumbly at him as he leans against your doorframe, almost as wide as the entrance itself. You’re half-asleep and dressed in the clothes you had on last night: crumpled red Ohio shirt, mismatched pinstriped blue and white pajama shorts.

Your phone had been misplaced amidst the ruckus of the search party, so you just planned on missing your meeting today. It wasn’t like you could properly function anyway, barely getting to bed at 5:30 and waking up at the asscrack of dawn with Captain Underpants at your door.

Even his knocks sounded patriotic. Big, strong thumping blows that rattled all the way into your bedroom.

“Rough night?” Steve Rogers asks as you try your best to smooth the flyaways of your bedhead. Stupid, perfect, blonde and blue-eyed giant man.

“Am I being haunted? What are you doing here?” Your voice sounds like gravel in a blender as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He shrugs, looking down at his shoes and smiling secretively, like he’s got another corny joke up his sleeve. “Just wanted to see how Buck’s doing.”

“Don’t you have your own Buck to babysit? From what I remember, he needs a leash more than mine does.”

You let him in anyway, and your dog is waiting patiently by the couch, tail slapping the carpet as he remembers his savior from last night. Steve starts to coo as he scratches Buckeye’s chin and head, careful not to rile him up too much. He looks in complete ecstasy when Steve picks at a particularly good spot.

You shift awkwardly as you stand by the kitchen bar, leaning against a stool. How does one man still manage to look like his superhero moniker in civilian clothing? You bet yourself that his closet hung the same monochromatic color pallet—as if costume director dressed him, just in case he forgot he was Captain America.

“Well...” you begin, moving to the kitchen to brew yourself some coffee. Halfway to the single-serving French press, you trade it out for the larger one and add extra water in the kettle. You’re not sure what to say, so you shut up and groan inwardly as you grind the beans. You dip into the restroom and return with your toothbrush, scrubbing quietly as you watch Steve get on the floor to rub your dog’s pink tummy.

“If you pet him with your foot he won’t know the difference. Save ya knees, man.”

“This good boy deserves a real tummy rub, doesn’t he?” Captain America is using baby talk on your dog. It makes you feel... all funny.

Steve Rogers stands up and beams at you from across the counter. You frown because his perfect white smile is brighter than the sunlight streaming in through your window. You spit and rinse your toothbrush in the sink to avoid the shine, but he’s still there when you return. Great. Not a dream. Maybe a nightmare.

You take the kettle off the stovetop when it starts to squeak and blurt out another snarky comment just because you really hate silences and love being awkward. “Buckeye’s gonna get neutered soon. Wanna take yours too?”

Captain America chuckles and shakes his head, blue eyes twinkling at the hand on your hip. “You know, that smart mouth o’ yours is gonna get you into trouble one day.” You gulp as you pour the water suddenly aware that there is a real, live, broad-as-hell man standing in your living room and looking at you like you’re somebody... and he called your mouth smart.

You’re also suddenly aware that you look like shit and your hand shakes a little when you place the filter over the top of the floating coffee grinds.

“Fuck, I think I’m already in trouble.” You mutter into your shoulder as you turn.

Steve doesn’t catch the comment and digs his hand into his back pocket, producing the phone you’ve been missing since last night. You sigh in relief when you see it- as good as it was before, partially cracked screen, but still working. It’s warm when he puts it in your hand and you automatically pull a face.

“Butt heat. I mean--- hot! Hot ass!—Oh, damn it.”

You shut your eyes and the world feels like it’s stopped spinning altogether. Please god, you think, please let him be gone when you look again because you don’t think you can stand another minute on this Earth. Damn your stupid no-filter smart mouth.

He’s still there, though, because life is so stupid and whatever creator that exist hates you. His left eyebrow is raised, and he’s crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

“You need to brush up on your compliments.”

“Not a compliment!” You hiss, “Don’t put people’s phones in your back pocket! You’re too fucking big to be sitting on them. But thank you for giving it back.”

Steve laughs as you push the filter down on the French press. He’s saying something about how Bucky wanted to put his hand through the device, but your ears are ringing too loudly to hear him. You feel relieved anyway, because you think that you’ve reached your quip-quota for the day.

You pour yourself a cup and he puts his hands up to stop you, excusing himself-- somewhere to be, some old lady to save, he says. You fumble around a bottom cabinet for a second before pulling out a thermos and dumping the rest of the press’ coffee into it.

“Since you did hand-deliver my phone to me, it’s the least I can do. It’s blue, too. Complements your eyes.”

He smiles and takes the thermos from you. “That was a good compliment.” He says, all twinkly again.

“Complement, not compliment.” You correct bluntly.

He takes two steps to the door before turning, “No, the compliment was that you noticed my eyes at all.” He laughs when your face scrunches up, miffed. Captain America was a real … sonuvabitch. “By the way... I left you a number for a dogsitter, just in case you need one.” You rotate the flat rectangle of your phone against your chest as he yanks the door open. “It’s a good service. Reliable. And they text, too.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You stare at Buckeye, who whines pathetically at the door.

You cock your head, looking at the time on the splintered screen. Might as well, you think, reading 7:15 flashing back at you. You could make it to campus by 9.

 The meeting drags on with your advisor, and it’s almost noon before you realize that you’re going to get hauled into another one of those pop-up seminars the faculty has been putting on all year. You’ve managed to avoid two because there’s just no fucking time to go! How are they expecting you to finish your thesis, go to class, grade a hundred stupid student papers, hold office hours, respond to a thousand e-mails a day, and keep your sanity?

It’s something you’re eager to complain to your therapist about any time she starts asking about your personal life. Which, you’ve been dodging re-scheduling recently. Shit.

You calculate the hours you’ll be away as you sip room-temperature coffee from a fuzzy paper cup. It’ll be another four hours before you can make it home and Buckeye really needs to go outside and have his bandages changed before then. Shit.

Your thumbprint opens the home screen and you scroll through your contacts, searching for that aforementioned “reliable” dogsitter. You hope to hell they’re also immediately available as you part a crowd of undergraduates to exit the building. Tapping the message bubble button, you open up a new thread.

You: Hello. I was referred to your services by a friend. Are you available today by any chance?

Your phone almost immediately vibrates back and you sigh in relief.

Dogsitter: That was fast.

You’re confused, but another response pops up again.

Dogsitter: What time do you need me to come by? And for how long?

You: ASAP? If that’s okay? Um. My dog is really fine on his own, but he’s been in an accident and I need him to have his bandages changed and given medicine. Also, he needs to be taken for a potty-break.

Dogsitter: Potty break, medicine, bandages. Got it…. And what about your key?

You: Yeah, I’ll send you my location for my key. What are your rates by the way?

You open up your map and set the pin to your location before sharing it with the dogsitter. It feels way too good to be true, but you’re a little crunched for time and even if he’s a crazy serial killer, you’ve got a pit bull and nothing of value in your apartment. You feel pretty secure.

The attempt to share your coordinates is rejected and you close the notification. Your phone buzzes in your hand again.

Dogsitter: My rates really depend on the dog… and shouldn’t you be asking for my name, or some identifying marker to recognize me by before I show up and take your [1/2]

You stare blankly at the green speech cloud. What the hell… even twitter updated its character count to 280… who the hell is living so far in the past… before you can finish your thought, the following green balloon appears.

Dogsitter: house key? Stranger danger, ma’am. [2/2]

All the right gears start clicking in your brain and suddenly two perfect pieces of the puzzle fits together. The mystifying black shadow on the other end of the line begins to come into view.

You: ….Steve... Roberts?

Dogsitter: Rogers!

The sound that erupts from your mouth is inhumanly pathetic, a mixture of a groan and a whine. Who did you piss off in your last life to be this cursed?

Next Chapter

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[PRE-APOCALYPSE: Dominique finds out she is pregnant by her boyfriend, Negan. Only to find him in bed with another woman. She takes off not knowing the world will end as she knows it. Negan stubbornly wants to protect her no matter how angry she is.]

Drama

Negan and Dominique. PART ONE.

Part one.

It was early in the afternoon and you were at work already hiding in the bathroom. Except today it was for a valid reason, you had just found out you were pregnant. Barely able to stop smiling with excitement staring down at the stick you were so eager to call Negan. Negan was your boyfriend of a year, things had been a little bumpy throughout your relationship but these past five months were nothing but peace. He had even spoken to you about finally moving in with him especially since you lived on the other side of town.

The two of you had spoken about having a baby in the future but you never expected it to be so soon.

After speaking to your boss and asking to leave early due to a family emergency you got in your car and decided to show up and surprise Negan face to face at home. He usually worked night shifts and you knew he’d be home today. This was something that couldn’t wait and you wouldn’t dare waste to speak about through text. Excitedly you blasted some music in the car singing loudly as you drove down to Negans apartment. Things were finally starting to feel just right for you.

Pulling up in front of his apartment you walked up the steps as you dug in your purse looking for the spare keys he gave you for whenever you came over. Humming to yourself you opened the door to a quiet living room and figured Negan was still asleep. He never expected you during these hours of the day you knew he would be surprised. What you didn’t know was the surprise that would be waiting for you.

Slowly opening his bedroom door with a smile, your world came crashing down at the sight before you. There was a naked blonde woman under the covers next to your boyfriend, Negan. You gasped in a state of shock not being able to move, neither of them had heard you. Looking down at the floor you saw the woman’s bra and underwear, your heart sunk into your stomach. You soon heard a low groan as Negan turned around in bed and slowly opened up his eyes at the sight of you standing at his bedroom door.

“Dominique.” He whispered as he quickly realized you were staring at him with a woman in bed with him. Without saying a word you shut the door and began to rush out of his apartment.

“Dominique wait!” Negan shot up from the bed as the unknown woman began to wake up.

“Get out of here. Now.” He told the woman as he threw on a white T-shirt and buttoned his jeans. As he made it out of his room he caught you walking out the door and made you turn to him.

“Dominique wait-“

“You filthy piece of shit!” You screamed as you pulled your arm back.

“Listen to me-“ he struggled to speak seeing the pain in your eyes.

“No. I’m done listening to a word you say. I should’ve known..I should’ve known.” A knot began to build in your throat as you tried your best not to let yourself cry in front of him.

“I only came here to surprise you with something I thought would be good...” You reached into your purse for your pregnancy test and threw it at his chest.

“Congratulations you dirtbag, you’re going to be a father.” You quickly turned away from him as you began to choke on your words. Running out back to your car you left him standing in disbelief. Negan froze staring down at the pregnancy test feeling the guilt begin to grow in his chest.

“Holy shit.” He whispered before running out after you.

“Dominique!” He yelled grabbing hold of your car door before you could close it.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed attempting to push him away but he stood his ground.

“How long have you been pregnant?”

“I don’t fucking know, it doesn’t matter, just leave me alone!” You yelled slamming your steering wheel.

“You need to relax. I’m not fucking letting you drive like this.”

You immediately broke out into laughter.

“Relax?!” You stepped out of your car as he backed up and looked straight into his eyes before laying a hard smack across his face. Of course, the smack barely making him move an inch from here he was, he stared down at you in silence.

“Stay away from me.” You whispered coldly before getting back into your car, slamming your door and driving off as fast you could.

“Dominique!” He yelled and began cursing at himself before noticing his neighbor was watching him.

“What the fuck are you looking at?!” He growled as the woman stepped out of his apartment. He turned his back to her as she walked out with her head down.

Negan walked back inside and immediately grabbed his phone trying to call you but of course all you did was send it to voicemail.

“Baby, please answer the phone. Please hear me out.” Negan left you four voicemails hoping you’d respond as he sighed throwing himself back on the couch. Turning on the tv to distract his mind for a bit he noticed something very strange going on in the news.

“What the fuck..” he whispered as he turned up the volume. A news reporter was in the middle of her broadcast explaining that a virus had been exposed to a small part of the city. It was in the town you lived in.

Negan sat up watching the chaos unfold behind the news reporter when a man suddenly grabbed her and bit half her face off.

“What the fuck!” Negan stood up watching as the camera dropped and more people were attacked. What really caught his eye was what seemed to be a human on the floor crawling towards the camera. The man was making a gurgling noise, half his face was on the floor, it was nothing he had ever seen before.

“What the fuck is that..” Negan whispered moving closer to the television before soon the screen went blank. Not hearing anything outside the only thing Negan could think of was that this was happening on your side of town. Quickly he grabbed his leather jacket and his car keys and jumped in his car racing to where he knew you would be going.

Turning on the radio Negan could hear people in panic talking about this sudden virus beginning to spread. Static began to take over as he attempted to switch channels but lost all signal. No sign of chaos on his side of town his goal was to bring you back. Grabbing his phone again he called you once more only to get your voicemail.

“God dammit baby, pick up the fucking phone, I don’t know whats happening but it’s not safe where you’re at. I’m on my way to you now.” He threw his phone on the passenger seat and continued to speed down the road.

Crying as you drove back home you could feel your phone continue to vibrate on your lap. The same stupid picture of you and Negan popping up on your home screen, it took everything in you to not throw that phone out of the damn window. Being so lost in your pain you failed to notice the traffic building up around you. You failed to notice the strange things starting to occur around you. You didn’t notice a thing until you saw a woman covered in blood running past your car.

“What the hell..” you whispered looking out the window. People were running in circles around you, some chasing others, you had no idea what was happening. A man banged into the front of your car as he chased after another man, blood was soon all over the streets, you gasped at the terror building up around you.

Looking down at your phone you saw a text from Negan, the last person you wanted to hear from but his message caught your attention.

“Somethings happening..I’m coming to get you.” You frowned staring down at the text when he began to call again. Shaking in confusion, mascara running down your cheeks you picked up his phone call and hesitantly spoke.

“H-hello.” You continued to watch the chaos around you grow.

“Where are you?!”

“What’s happening?” You whispered as you watched in horror a man bite into a woman’s shoulder. In that moment any anger or sadness you felt was taken over with fear.

“Where are you, Dominique?”

“I’m in the car, I’m close to the house-“

“Stay in the car, don’t fucking get out of it. Lock your doors-“ you screamed at a sudden woman running into your window.

“What is it? What happened?” Negan stepped on the gas driving as fast as he could.

“There’s a woman, a woman in my window I think she’s injured-“

“Don’t fucking open the door. Stay in that car you hear me?”

“I can’t move, there’s cars and people all around me I’m stuck, what the hell is happening?”

“I don’t know baby, I’m coming to get you. I’m gonna be right there.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped as you saw people being torn limb by limb.

“Negan what the hell, I’ve never seen anything like this-“ your words suddenly cut off with the sound of a loud crash making Negans heart stop.

“Dominique!” He yelled as he heard you scream, glass breaking and suddenly the call was lost.

“Mother fucker!” He slammed the steering wheel and continued to drive.

A truck had slammed into the side of your car making your car flip twice and leaving you upside down. Fortunately, you were conscious with only a few cuts and scrapes on you. It was miracle you were even conscious. Looking out the window you could see your house just down the block. Finding your phone completely crushed you were left with no choice but to just pull yourself out of the car. Moaning in pain you leaned on tiny shards of glass cutting your hands struggling to drag your body out of the car window. Easily getting yourself to your feet you were careful with the people around you. Running down the block in pain you grabbed your keys out of your pocket, relieved to have grabbed them and quickly let yourself in your home. Locking the door as fast as you could you ran to each window closing all the blinds and leaving the lights off. Rushing to the sink you winced as you let water run down the cuts on your hands slowly pulling out some of the pieces of glass.

“Fuck-“ you whispered in pain. As angry as you felt you couldn’t help but hope Negan would soon be at your door.

Negan slowed down once he got close to your house, slowly observing everything around him, fear grew in him still unaware of your condition. That’s when he froze at the sight of your destroyed vehicle.

“No..” he whispered before stepping out of his car not paying attention to anything around him and ran to where he thought you were. People continued to run circles around him as he dodged everyone coming his way.

Distracted with only focusing on getting to you, Negan zoned out on everything else around him. Crouching down he noticed nobody was in the car, he looked around and soon noticed a trail of blood leading into the direction of your home. He didn’t know whether to feel a sense of relief or not. Without hesitation Negan ran to your home and immediately started slamming his hands on the door.

“Dominique it’s me! Please tell me you’re fucking in there.” You jumped looking over at the door and ran to open it. Struggling not to hurt your hands more than they were you unlocked the door and let him in. Negan instantly let out a sigh of relief before letting himself in and shutting the door behind him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He whispered grabbing your face noticing each and every scratch and cut on it.

“I’m fine-“ ignoring your words he grabbed your wrists looking down at your cut up hands. Shaking his head he looked up into your eyes wondering how the hell you made it out alive after how the car looked. His eyes couldn’t help but fall to your stomach. He didn’t have to say a word for you to know what he was thinking.

“I’m fine.” You whispered once more honestly not sure if you were just too shaken up to feel anything or if everything was truly ok. Turning away in silence you walked back to the sink and continued to clean out your cuts. It was almost as if even through all the fear you were feeling you came into the realization again at what had just happened between the two of you.

“Dominique...I-“

“Don’t talk to me right now about this.” You responded in a soft tone with your back still to him. Negan groaned not agreeing with what you wanted but what was he to say.

“Let’s get you back to my place. You can come back here when all this shit is over.” Negan spoke as he took a peep out the window not knowing when any of this would even be over.

“Your place?” You chuckled as you finished cleaning up your hand.

“Where your whore stayed? I don’t think so, I’ll stay at a hotel.” It seemed the fear in you didn’t completely make you forget the rage you felt towards Negan either.

“Don’t start.” Negan spoke low with his back to you, he knew you had every reason to be upset but he wouldn’t dare let you stay without him.

“Don’t start? I have every reason to start and say whatever the hell I want, I don’t care what’s going on right now. Whatever it is, it’s only in my side of town, I don’t have to stay with you.”

Negan turned with deep furrowed brows as he slowly made his way to you.

“And what exactly do you think you’re going to do, sweetheart? Carry my child and take off to some cheap motel?”

Your heart once again sunk all over at his words, the reminder of being pregnant.

Being pregnant with Negans child.

“It’s none of your business-“

“Like hell its none of my fucking business!” His voice unexpectedly louder than he meant it to be towards you. Staring at your back he could see your shoulders tense up at the way he spoke, he looked down with a sigh.

“Look, you came here to make sure I was ok and I appreciate that but...-“

“But what?” He spoke low looking up in your direction, you still couldn’t bare the sight of him. He knew and feared the words that would come out of your mouth.

“I may be carrying your child but..we are no longer together-“

“Don’t say that.”

“What? Did you think we’d somehow act like nothing and continue our relationship after what I saw this morning?” You turned with tears filled in your eyes.

“I’m done. This baby doesn’t stop me from being done with you, I am done.” Your heart hurt as you spoke your truth but you should’ve known Negan would be a persistent man.

“You can be done with me all you want, baby. I’m not letting you out of my sight again, not until this whole shit clears up.”

“What whole shit? You don’t even know what it is!”

“Exactly.” He turned around again taking a look out the window, chaos still on the streets.

“I’m going to pack my stuff then I’m staying at the Royal Inn in the city.” You turned and made your way up the stairs to your bedroom.

“Yeah and how you gonna get there? Walking?” Negan yelled up to your room as you rolled your eyes. There was no way you’d stay with this man, you could take care of yourself just fine.

Coming down the stairs you were shocked to find Negan packing a bag of his own, a shopping bag he must’ve found laying around on the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m packing you some snacks.”

“You don’t need to, I’ll probably be back by tomorrow.”

Negan didn’t want to worry you, but he doubted you’d be able to come back to this side of town any time soon.

“You feel ok?” He asked you as you walked into the kitchen.

“I’m fine, Negan.” He sensed the annoyance in your tone and crossed his arms.

“Excuse me for worrying princess, have you seen your god damn car outside?”

“Yeah well, I’m fine. So drop it.”

You always were a stubborn woman but this anger you had inside you, made you all the more stubborn.

“Lets go.” You went to grab your gym back that you packed but Negan was a second too fast for you and took a hold of it before turning to the door.

“Stay behind me.”

“Mhm.” You responded low as Negan opened up the door and led the way to his car. The area had cleared up a bit. He cleared a path for you and made sure you were settled in the car before quickly making his way around.

Without saying a word Negan started the car and began to drive but he drove in the opposite direction of where you asked him to take you.

“Negan?”

“Hm.”

“This isn’t-“ you turned looking out your window.

“This isn’t the way to the Royal Inn.”

Negan let out a snort making you turn his way.

“Is that where you think you’re going, doll?”

“Negan I told you to take me there.”

“And I told you no.” He responded in a cocky manner with a hint of a smirk on his lips. You could never win with this man.

“You’re in for a treat if you just think I’m going to be doing whatever you say.” You mumbled making him chuckle. He didn’t have much to say to that. All he knew was that he was discovering a piece of himself he had never knew existed before. He had always been protective of you, Negan was always protective of those he cared for. But in his forty plus years of living he had never felt this sudden fear deep within him. The woman he loved was now pregnant and she was pissed at him. Hell, he didn’t blame her but he’d be damned if he thought he would let that get in the way of making sure her and his unborn were safe.

The car was filled with silence for a while as Negan drove. The closer the two of you got to his side of town the quieter it got. You looked out the window zoning out when the sudden feel of Negans hand gently placed on your stomach made you gasp. You looked over at him as he continued to drive, eyes on the road like if he wasn’t doing a thing.

“Stop.” You whispered.

You couldn’t take it.

The happiness was ripped out of you this morning, as much as you wanted a baby the pain of how quickly everything flipped this morning was too much to bare.

“I said stop.” You whispered as Negan pulled over right in front of his apartment before he slowly turned your way.

“Why?” He whispered leaning his face close to yours.

“Whether you like it or not that’s my kid in there.”

“Stop.” You shoved his hand away and opened the car door stepping out. You wanted so badly to be angry that this was his child but truth be told, you weren’t.

“Listen, you can’t act like nothing forever.” His eyes met yours over the roof of the car.

Ignoring his statement you walked towards his door waiting for him to reach your side and unlock the door. Not saying a word you walked inside and sat on the couch. Negan right away went to the back of the house as you lay back feeling yourself grow tired. When was the last time you took a nap during the day like this? You couldn’t remember.

The silence was soon interrupted with Negan walking back from his bedroom with a rifle in hand.

“Why the hell did you bring that out?” You shot up as he lay it on the dining room table.

“Precautions.” He muttered low, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you. But, on the drive home he noticed his phone was disconnected, certain places were closed. On his side of the road their happen to be a store with a sign telling customers to take whatever they needed. He looked over at you and he wasn’t sure what was going through your mind, he wasn’t sure if you were realizing anything around you at all.

“Precautions for what?” You almost laughed as you picked up the rifle when Negan quickly grabbed it from you.

“Don’t touch it.”

You frowned, his tone as if you were a careless woman who didn’t know how to handle a gun.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how to handle a rifle but still.

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself, baby.” He grabbed the gun and walked towards the kitchen. He seemed tense, more than he was before, something was off.

“Well I’m gonna head to the store, do you want something?”

“Like hell you are!” Negan yelled from the kitchen making you sigh as you made your way to him.

“What the hell has gotten into you? Suddenly you find out I’m pregnant and I can’t breathe for myself? The deli is right on the corner of this block, don’t be ridiculous.” You grabbed the keys off the counter before suddenly feeling Negans tight grasp on your arm forcing you to turn around.

“Drop. The. Keys.” He spoke low staring directly into your eyes.

“You’re being ridiculous. If this is about what is going on where I live, that’s an hour away. We are fine here.”

“I’m not asking you, sweetheart. I’m telling you.” You rolled your eyes before shoving the keys to his chest.

“You want food? I’ve got enough.” He turned and opened the fridge pulling out containers, pizza, all kinds of frozen foods. It’s what he lived off of.

“There. Now stop being a pain in the fucking ass.” Negan left the kitchen and headed back to his bedroom with keys in hand. He didn’t know what he was going to do yet but he knew he had to think fast. The two of you had to get the hell out of there.

You crossed your arms and chuckled clearly in irritation. This man was something else.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Frozen foods?

You threw everything back in the fridge and looked down the hall to see his back to the door busy looking for something in his drawer. He took his keys but you didn’t need those damn keys anyways. Very quietly you made your way to the door and without Negan suspecting a thing, you made your way outside.

“Well it’s awfully quiet out here.” You whispered to yourself as you looked around realizing there was no one in sight in a usual busy street. Walking down the deli you noticed the usual old man behind the counter was not there. The register was open, you frowned looking around the store and noticed a few things on the floor.

“Mr.Boswell?” You yelled out when the lights suddenly flickered.

What the hell was going on?

Negan came back out the room with a box of bullets and a pistol. He knew he would have to teach you how to shoot, at what..he had no idea.

He lay back on the couch with a sigh placing the bullets on the small coffee table as he looked down at his pistol.

“Found something for you, baby.” He chuckled looking at the gun already picturing how it would be to teach you to shoot. Raising his eyebrows he almost became aroused at the thought of you with a gun.

“Dominique get over here, I wanna see something.” He chuckled before realizing how quiet it was.

“Dominique?” He quickly stood up walking towards the kitchen to find, you were gone.

“This fucking little-“

Negan cut himself off as he raced towards the door. Fear grew in him at the thought of you outside by yourself with something he really didn’t know much about around you. What if you were hurt already? It hadn’t been that long, had it? Why the hell did you have to be so damn rebellious? This wasn’t the time for it.