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maedaex2combo · 2 years

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Warnings: Strong language(?)

Pairings: Karkat x Reader, Dave x Reader(?) (Gender-neutral!Reader)

Summary: You’re a little bored today, like most days, on this damn meteor. Everyone else is busy, so you have no choice but to hang out with Karkat. This probably won’t go well. Or will it?

A/N: Ahhh! This is my first fanfiction I’m ever posting. I’ve written fanfiction for a while, but I’ve never really wanted to post it. I suppose I’m starting today! I’ll definitely be writing for other characters in homestuck, but also different series/fandoms! I hope you enjoy this cute little wholesome piece I wrote while I was rereading the comic. Sorry if I’m not great at writing for certain characters, I try my best. If anyone wants me to make a follow up on this story, let me know! I wasn’t gonna make another part honestly, but I might if people want it, or if I just feel like it one day. :b (Disclaimer that I’m a huge DaveKat shipper and if I write a sequel or more about this timeline it will probably heavily include Dave lol sorry)

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===> Be Y/N post-scratch (pre-retcon)

You are now [Your] and [Name], respectively.

You let out a deep sign. You’ve been staring down at this notebook you were doodling on for so long, you feel like your neck might just be stuck in a hunchback position permanently once you try to look up. You stopped doodling in the book a while ago, just blankly staring into space, thinking about random things. And by space you mean this book, which you were drawing galaxies and shit on.

Your mind wanders a lot these days. You cant even keep track of how long you’ve spent on this damn speedy ass meteor. It was interesting for the first week maybe, but it’s gotten a little boring. It feels like an eternity since you guys departed from the green sun.

Oh well, you’ve seem to come-to out of your imagination so you might as well take in your surroundings now. You hesitate for a moment at the very real, and totally not preposterous idea that your neck might actually be stuck in position. And that when you try to lift it up it’ll snap, and you’ll paralyze yourself, and then you’d just have to writhe embarrassingly on the floor in front of your friend.

Nah, just kidding. That wouldn’t happen. That’d be terrible though.

Anyways.

You lift your head up and take in your surroundings. You’re in, what you like to call the “library-living-room”, of the meteor. No one else calls it that, but you think you might be getting Rose in on it, since she referred to it as such during your last conversation a couple hours ago. Speaking of Rose, there she is, like probably 6 feet away from you, engulfed in some book as always. She looks really focused, but also happy! She always seems to have this slight smile whenever she’s reading, like she’s always happy to be gaining more knowledge. It’s really cute honestly. Rose and Kanaya are your best friends at this point, you practically spend all your time around them.

That, however, is starting to be more and more of a problem. It’s obvious to anyone around those two that they’re SO into each other, and it kinda makes anyone feel like the third wheel if there’s not a 4th person around. Most of the time anyways. I mean, they are still friends, but they have this like really subtle, mutual way of flirting with each other sometimes. It’s really cute x2. But, in short, you gotta give them their alone time from time to time. Time time time. You wonder where Dave is.

Speak of the devil, Kanaya just walked in!

….

What?

Did you think I was referring to Dave? No, I was just talking about Kanaya, that transition totally made sense!

“Hello, Rose. Hello, Y/N.”

You wave to her with a smile, leaning back on the wall behind you.

“Kanaya, I’m glad to see you.” Rose says to her “I wanted to show you something.”

“Show me something? What is it?” She replies, bending down to have a look at something rose is referring to.

You wonder why she didn’t want to show you, even though you’ve been sitting in the same room in silence for like a couple hours now. You decide not to say anything, you’d probably come off as jealous or bitter or something. Your words tend to come out the wrong way sometimes.

Kanaya sits down next to her and they begin to talk. You start drowning it now, zoning out again. You admire the two in front of you, they’d be so good together. You can’t wait for it to just finally happen already.

After a bit of your mind wandering, you come-to again. The ladies are giggling and having a moment now. One of THOSE moments. You decide you should take your leave at this point.

You stand up. “Hey y’all, I’m gonna go find Dave. Any idea where he is?”

They look up at you as you walk over. “I passed by him earlier, it looked like he was going to that chalk drawing room he, Terezi, and the mayor are always in.” Kanaya responds to you.

“Chalk drawing room?” You giggle “I like that name. Did you name it that?”

“Well… no, I called it that just now… because I’m not quite sure how to refer to rooms here. I suppose it’s hard to give directions. I’ve never realized this.” She says, now a little flustered.

“Should we start labeling the rooms?” Rose suggests. “We could always number them, in descending or ascending order from the roof or floor respectively. Hell, we could even label them with letters. Though, I am forewarning that the former system would probably be more confusing than the previous alternatives.”

This conversation kinda blows. You totally just interrupted whatever sweet moment they were just bonding over. You gotta go!

“Well, you guys let me know if you decide, but I’m just gonna keep calling them goofy names anyways! Thanks though, Kanaya! I’ll see you guys later.”

They can’t really say anything else, because you’re already leaving as you say your goodbye. They can only nod and wave in response before you disappear into the hallway.

You shudder as you quickly make your way to the chalk-drawing-room. Why is it always so cold only in the hallways specifically? Maybe it was your imagination, but you always moved pretty quickly from room to room anyways. It gives you the creeps to be out here alone. Honestly everywhere in the meteor-lab gives you the creeps, you always try to stay with someone as often as you can. And also to try and use the transportalizer as often as possible. But of course, the one to your destination just broke recently, due to DaveKat fighting shenanigans.

Chalk-drawing-room…. You think about whether you really like that name. You kinda wanted to call it mayor-town-room, since the whole room is covered in the mayors little town area that Dave and Terezi collaborated on. You guess you can call it chalk-drawing-room though, only because kanaya said it, and it was kinda adorable!

You finally make it to the chalk-drawing-room, and you peer inside to see if Strider really is in here. And there he is! Standing on a desk/table. What is he doing? You move in a little further to get a better look.

Oh my gosh, Terezi is on his shoulders! They’re drawing something way up on the wall. Honestly, this is a pretty impressive effort they’re making right now, even though you’re pretty sure Dave could just fly up there, right?? You kinda just stare at them for a while. Totally not in a creepy way or anything.

Then suddenly, they’re starting to lose balance! Oh god, they’re gonna fa- and down they go.

You gasp quietly and cover your mouth to silence it. You’re about to go see if they’re alright when- Oh. Actually it seems like Dave kinda caught Terezi. So she must not be hurt.

“dude are you okay? i told you this shit was not a good idea.”

“1M F1N3!!! YOU TOT4LLY BROK3 MY F4LL! SHOULDNT 1 BE 4SK1NG YOU TH4T??”

“oh yeah im fine. that definitely wouldve made me break a butt bone or something if I wasn’t like. this awesome god tier motherfucker. that can fly.”

You notice he’s hovering right above the table.

“Y34H, WH4T3V3R. BUT DONT S4Y TH4T. 1T R3M1NDS M3 OF H1M.”

“right. sorry. but look, bottom line, i totally just saved your ass. literally.”

“OH WOW D4VE, YOUR3 SO R1GHT. TH4NK YOU SO MUCH FOR S4V1NG M3. *ROLLS 3Y3S DR4M4T1C4LLY*.”

“dont start roleplaying with me out loud.”

“1M NOT ROL3PL4YING, 1 4M JUST D3SCR1B1NG TO YOU WH4T MY 3Y3S WOULD B3 DO1NG 1F TH3Y COULD! 3V3N 1F TH3Y COULD DO 4 ROLL, YOU WOULDNT B3 4BLE TO S33! 4ND 1 WOULDNT B3 4BL3 TO S33 1F YOU D1D 31TH3R B3C4US3 W3R3 BOTH TOT4LLY 4W3SOM3 SUNGL4SS W34R3RS!!! >:]]]]”

“oh damn i thought you wouldnt able to see for a totally different unrelated reason.”

“1 KNOW D4VE. 1 W4S JUST TRY1NG TO COMPL1M3NT US BOTH.”

“yeah, were pretty awesome.”

Yknow, you wonder why you’re still standing here, observing their conversation. You guess you would have walked in and asked if they needed help or something, if you didn’t get this like- weird vibe from what’s happening right now. It’s almost like…… oh man. Yeah it’s like what you feel when you’re around Rose and Kanaya. They’re not really flirting, but it just feels weird to interject. He’s holding her and they’re having a bonding moment, and- oh okay, she just licked him. You’re hoping she was like getting chalk off him or something. You decide to back out now.

That made you feel… weird. Definitely contradicting with some feelings you may or may not have had for Dave. For years. That’s okay though. We’re just not gonna think about it.

Now you’re getting a little anxious. You’ve been in the hall too long without someone else. What if he were to just show up and slaughter you right now???

“He” being Gamzee. Ever since you got to the meteor (via jades weird portal body) and the trolls told you guys what awful things Gamzee had done prior to arriving at the green sun, you have been a little scared shitless of him. It seems like no one else feels this way really, besides maybe Kartkat, but he’s the one who keeps the guy under control. Everyone else just doesn’t care, or wants to go kill him themselves (which honestly you wouldn’t be apposed to). You’re probably the weakest one out of everyone here, since you never ended up reaching god tier, and you’re not a troll who grew up being trained for this type of thing.

You just want to avoid him at all costs, which hasn’t been a problem since no one really sees him besides Karkat, as mentioned. But you always stick around Kanaya just in case, since you know he’s especially avoiding her.

But anyways, the hallway just makes you feel vulnerable. Every now and then, you’ll hear a slight honk while you’re walking, and it makes you pick up to a sprint. You just wanna get off this fuckin rock already.

Alright, think. Who else is there left to bother? Rose and Kanaya are busy, and so are Dave and Terezi. So then…. Ugh. Karkat. Well, it beats being alone!

You start to speed walk towards the grumpy trolls room. Hehe. What a funny name you just now came up with, that he totally wouldn’t understand, because it’s a highly complex human media reference that trolls definitely do not have. You make note to tease him about that later.

Your shoes clank quietly on the floor as you walk at a slowly-fast(?) pace.

Wait.

Did you hear that?

…..

honk

Oh..

honk

Fuck.

honk

NO.

HELL FUCKING NO. BOOK IT, YOUR NAME.

You are now running, like a god damn marathon Olympian. Is marathon running even a thing in the Olympics? WHO CARES. WERE JUST RUNNING REALLY FAST, OKAY?

Finally, you see Karkats big metal door in sight. You know it’s his door because he carved his damn symbol on it super big.

Once you reach the door, you knock. Politely, of course. No point in him being pissed at you more than he probably already will be.

…

honk.

OH GOD DAMN IT OPEN THE DOOR.

You knock again, this time definitely not in a polite manner.

honk.

YOURE KNOCKING QUITE A LOT NOW. GEE ITD BE NICE IF AN ASSHOLE TROLL OPENED HIS DOOR FOR YOU RIGHT ABOUT NOW.

“KARKAT ITS ME CAN YOU OPEN THE DAMN DOOR” You yell, still knocking obnoxiously.

AND HALLELUJAH, IT OPENS! And with a very pissed off Karkat behind it, no less.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU-“ You cut him off immediately by pushing him inside with you.

“CLOSE THE DOOR!! CLOSE IT CLOSE IT!” You shout.

“OKAY OKAY FUCK IM CLOSING THE FUCKING DOOR!” And he complies.

The door shuts, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so relieved. Besides maybe when you found out that Rose and John weren’t dead that one time you found their bodies on the Skaia Battlefield. Dang, that feels like forever ago.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT?” Karkat yells, snapping you out of the thought you were just having.

“Oh. Sorry. It was like, a really long walk to your room. And you know I get paranoid being alone for too long.”

“YEAH I STILL DON’T REALLY UNDERSTAND WHAT THE HELL YOU’RE SO PARANOID ABOUT. GAMZEE HASN’T SHOWN HIS FACE TO YOU GUYS IN LIKE. ALMOST ONE OF YOUR HUMAN YEARS. I THINK.”

“Yeah, but you never know! I’ve made it a point to avoid him, so if I let my guard down, that’s when anything could happen!”

“THAT’S THE STUPIDEST FUCKING LOGIC IV’E EVER HEARD.”

“Yeah well, whatever. You just don’t get it.”

“WOW, OKAY. I’M GONNA IGNORE HOW TOTALLY IGNORANT AND UNTRUE THAT STATEMENT JUST WAS. JUST KIDDING! THAT WAS FUCKING IGNORANT AND UNTRUE. I KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE WHAT THE FUCK THAT’S LIKE.”

You don’t really say anything to this, you know he’s right. He had told you about how terrifying it was that day Gamzee went on a rampage. You cant even imagine… being around while he’s ACTIVELY rampaging. You shudder thinking about it.

“ANYWAYS, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE? DID ROSE AND KANAYA KICK YOU OUT SO THEY CAN SNOGGLE OR SOME SHIT?”

“No, I kinda just escorted myself out so they can do whatever. Snoggling could be something they’re doing right now, I dunno.” You walk further into his room and take a seat on the floor next to his computer.

“OKAY. THAT ONLY ANSWERED ONE OF MY QUESTIONS THOUGH.”

“Oh yeah. Well Dave and Terezi were busy too so I-“

“WHAT WERE THEY DOING?” He cuts you off. God he’s so easy to read.

You roll your eyes, an action which he can clearly see because you don’t wear sunglasses, and he’s not blind.

“They were drawing in the chalk-drawing-room, aka mayors-town-room.” you answer “and they seemed busy, so I didn’t wanna interrupt.”

“BUSY DOING WHAT?”

“Okay. Well. I just told you they were drawing. But I’m assuming you mean more specifically. So, honestly they were just having a moment when I walked in. I didn-“

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN A MOMENT???”

“Yknow, like, they seemed like they were getting all close and shit so I didn-“

“HOW CLOSE.”

This is getting comical. You kinda wanna tell him something obscene, just to see what he does. But you stay composed.

“I don’t know, Dave was helping her draw something up high, then they fell, he caught her, and then terezi was all licking his face so I was like ‘im out of here!’”

You can see him get a little red in the face, to your slight amusement.

“SHE LICKED HIM??? THEY DONT EVEN TRY TO HIDE IT ANYMORE”

“Haha neither do you!! Plus, she licks everything. I’m sure she was just trying to see something on his face or-”

“WHY WAS HE EVEN HELPING HER WHEN HE COULD JUST DO IT HIMSELF?! GOD THEY ARE JUST SO-“

Aaaand he’s ranting. And he totally ignored what you even said. You listen when he rants, but it’s hard to keep up sometimes. He just keeps at it for. so. long. And it’s usually just a lot of internalized rage for himself that he turns outwards. We know this.

“SO ANYWAYS,” you shout, cutting him off mid(?)-rant “like I was saying, I came here because I had nothing else to do. And I don’t want to be alone.”

“OH GEE THANKS. NICE TO KNOW I’M THE LAST RESORT. YOURE A REAL FUCKIN PAL.”

“Well excuse me, you don’t really like to make our interactions all that gleeful!! I always get a headache around you cus all you wanna do is rant about how obsessed you are with your ex-mate-whatever!!” You shout back. You weren’t really expecting that to come out, but there it is. “Everyone else is just way more inviting! Rose and Kanaya are always my go-tos. And then Dave.”

“WHAT ABOUT TEREZI?”

Youre surprised he didn’t have a comeback to what you just said before that. “Um, yeah, I dunno I guess she’s the next pick. I don’t think she likes me all that much, though.”

“WHAT? WHY WOULDNT SHE?”

Okay. Weirdly, you noted that that seemed like a compliment.

“I dunno! Maybe I smell bad.”

“YOU DONT FUCKING SMELL BAD.”

Noted, again.

“I know dumpass, I was kidding.”

“SHE’S PROBABLY JEALOUS SINCE YOU SPEND SO MUCH TIME AROUND DAVE.”

“pssssh. I doubt that. She doesn’t seem like the type to get petty about that stuff, unlike a certain troll I may or may not know.”

“OKAY I DIDNT INVITE YOU INTO MY ROOM TO MAKE JABS AT ME OKAY? IM TRYING TO BE FUCKING CIVIL.”

“I mean, technically you didn’t really invite me at all.”

Why. Why did you say that.

“OOOOOOHHHH. OH SHIT. YOURE SO RIGHT. I DIDN’T, DID I? YOU INVITED YOURSELF, HUH? WOW WHAT A REVELATION. ITS ALMOST LIKE I DIDN’T WANT YOU HERE IN THE FIRST FUCKIN PLACE.”

Goddamnit.

“Whatever! Can we just talk about literally anything else! Or even just not talk at all!”

“SURE. WHATEVER.”

You glance around the room a bit. There’s not much in here, but he’s made it his own with a little decorating. Pretty much everyone has their own rooms, besides you. Embarrassingly enough you convinced Rose to share a room with you. You feel bad, but you try to give her as much space as she needs. She doesn’t really like to spend much time alone either anyways, you think. She’s like your sister at this point, and you’re glad she’s so kind to you.

“Hey, Karkat do you have anything I can read?”

“WHAT? NO. WHY THE FUCK WOULD I?”

“I dunno. I see you reading sometimes. Also there’s literally a book sitting right there on your couch.” You point towards the trollian novel (as seen in comic) that’s sitting on the not-so-comfy looking vintage couch. Where did he even get that?

Karkat quickly retrieves the book and walks over to a chest to stuff it inside.

“I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING FOR YOU TO READ.”

“Come onnnnnnn. I’m so bored. Reading an alien novel would literally be so much better than anything else I could possibly do on this rock right now.”

“EVEN IF I DID HAVE BOOKS, WHICH I FUCKING DONT. YOU WOULDN’T EVEN BE ABLE TO READ THEM, THEY’RE IN OUR WRITING.”

“Oh, Kanaya actually taught me how to read it!”

“WHAT?! SHE DID?”

“Well, I mean, I still kinda struggle with it. It’s kinda confusing. But yeah, I think I mostly got the hang of it. Kinda.”

“HUH.”

“Karkat please, spare me of my boredom. If you don’t have books then, is there literally anything else we could do?”

It’s silent for a moment, and he’s just kinda staring at you with that scowl he always has, crossing his arms.

“I… OKAY I DO HAVE BOOKS, BUT YOU WOULDN’T LIKE THEM.”

“What?! You don’t know that.”

“YES I DO. YOU WOULD DEFINITELY MAKE FUN OF ME FOR IT.”

“Oh, no I promise I will be so tame about it! I won’t criticize your literature- well I mean I probably will, but in a good way!”

“NO WAY. NOT HAPPENING.”

“Cmon, it’s not like you wrote the books! Just let me see!”

Karkat sits on the couch and pulls out his computer, probably intending on ignoring you now. You will not stand for this. You take it upon yourself to retrieve the treasure yourself.

You get up and dart for the chest to your right.

“HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING-” He quickly stands up to go after you.

But it’s too late! You’re getting that book! You’re opening the chest!

[You got: Erotic Trollian RomCom novel!]

Wait- what kind of novel?

You stare at the weirdly intimate and partially nude troll drawing on the cover. Huh.

But not for long before Karkat snatches it out of your hands. You forgot he was hot on your trail, kinda got mesmerized for a moment.

“DON’T GO FUCKING RUMMAGING THROUGH MY STUFF OR YOU CAN GET THE BIGGEST FUCKING ONE WAY TICKET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM.”

“Okay, okay! I just want a damn book to read!”

“I TOLD YOU!!! YOU WOULDNT LIKE ANY OF THE BOOKS I HAVE!”

“WHY NOT?!” Now you’re shouting. He always gets you like this.

“BECAUSE!”

“BECAUSE WHAT??”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING SAID SO.”

“THAT DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE!!!”

“ITS BECAUSE THEYRE ALL FUCKING ROMCOMS! OKAY?? THEYRE ALL SAPPY ASS TROLLIAN ROMANTIC COMEDIES WITH ALL OUR FUCKIN ALIEN QUADRANTS AND SHIT.”

You stare at him for a moment. And he stares at you, he’s basically heavy breathing at this point.

You start to snicker, and then that turns into a laugh.

He blushes a little, but he turns away so you don’t see.

“SEE?? THIS IS WHAT I MEAN. YOU’RE JUST FUCKING JUDGING ME.”

“NO IM NOT!!” you shout back, still giggling a little.

“THEN WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!”

“I don’t know!! It’s just funny! I didn’t think you’d be into that type of writing! But hey, I like romcoms too!”

“YEAH RIGHT. FUCKING BULLSHIT.”

You stop laughing.

“What do you mean “yeah right”?? It’s true!”

“LIKE FUCK IM GONNA BELIEVE YOU. YOURE JUST TRYING TO CONVINCE ME SO ILL GIVE YOU A BOOK AND THEN YOU CAN RAG ON ME ABOUT HOW AWFUL MY TASTE IN WRITING IS OR SOMETHING.”

“Ugh!! You are IMPOSSIBLE sometimes!!! Actually, I take that back! All the time! How do you know anything about what the hell I’m going to do?!”

“IT’S OBVIOUS.”

“Is it though?! You don’t even know me Karkat!! We’ve probably spent all of like three whole hours together as long as we’ve been on this damn meteor!! And we’ve been here for forever!!! You don’t know anything about me!!!”

“I WATCHED ALL FIVE OF YOU HUMAN FAILURES GROW UP.”

“SO WHAT?! That means you know everything about me? That doesn’t mean JACK SHIT! It just means you’re creepy! Here I was thinking maybe I could try to find SOMETHING to bond over with you! But no! You wanna be a crabby little jealous shut-in who just self deprecates all the time!! It’s getting old! Who even cares if I did think the book was stupid! If you like it then it shouldn’t matter what other people think!!”

“…”

“Whatever! If you’re just gonna refuse to have even a remotely nice interaction with me, then I’ll just leave!! That’s what you wanted right? Well here I fucking go! Thanks for nothing!!”

And thus, YOUR rant was over. And you start to make your way towards the door. Truthfully, you don’t want to leave. Even if it meant arguing with him, it just occurred to you how much you really don’t wanna go back into that hallway. Please stop me. Please stop me. Please-

“WAIT.”

Phew.

You turn around, crossing your arms and giving him a good glare.

Oh man. As soon as you turn around you almost lose your demeanor because you realize he’s pouting. He looks.. kinda… dare you say-

“ALRIGHT. I’LL… I’LL LET YOU READ A BOOK, OKAY? IM SORRY.”

You immediately light up. “Yay!!” You say as you make your way back over to him.

He looks at you for a moment.

“DO YOU REALLY LIKE ROMCOMS TOO?”

“Yeah, of course! That was like probably my second favorite genre.”

“YEAH WELL… IT’S FULL OF TROLLIAN CULTURE AND QUADRANTS AND STUFF LIKE I SAID. SO YOU’LL BE CONFUSED.”

“Maybe.. but can’t I just ask you about it? I mean, I think your quadrant romance is kinda interesting.”

This kinda shuts him up for the time being. He’s probably flustered, but you don’t really think too much of it.

Suddenly he just walks away from you, further into the room.

“Hey! Where are you going?” You call to him.

But he doesn’t answer, so you decide to take a seat on the couch. Oh wow. This was actually more comfy than you thought. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, you guess.

And then he’s back. And he’s holding a book, but it’s a different one from before. And when you look from the book, up to his face, the two of you make eye contact for a moment.

“HERE. READ THIS ONE.”

Your eyes light up a little. You take the book out of his hands and he watches you fan through the pages. It’s a pretty thick novel.

As you read the description on the back, Karkat goes and takes a seat on the other side of the couch, picking up a book on the floor under it.

“So, is this one like your favorite novel, or did you just pick one at random?” You ask.

“THAT ONE… IS MY FAVORITE.”

“Damn, okay! Starting off with the best then. Are you sure you don’t wanna give me a shitty one so my expectations aren’t so high after my first read?”

“NO. THATD BE STUPID.”

“Haha yeah. I’m kinda worried now though, what if I don’t like it? If it’s your favorite-“

“DIDN’T YOU JUST GO OFF ON ME ABOUT HOW I SHOULDN’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK, DUMBASS?”

“Oh yeah, I did, didn’t I?” You facepalm yourself internally. How’d you forget that?

“BUT JUST.. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT IT WHEN YOURE DONE.”

“Really? You WANT to know what I think?”

“I MEAN YEAH. I NEVER REALLY HAD ANYONE ELSE TO TALK TO ABOUT THIS STUFF. ALL MY FRIENDS WOULD GRILL THE FUCK OUT OF ME IF I TALKED ABOUT IT WITH THEM. I’VE NEVER REALLY… KNOWN ANYONE WHO ALSO LIKED ROMCOMS.”

“What about-“

“JOHN DOESNT COUNT. HE HAS SHIT TASTE.”

You giggle at this, and really take in what he said about not having anyone to indulge in this stuff. It’s kinda sad. From what you know, troll culture seemed pretty lonely when quadrants weren’t involved.

“Alright then. Lets talk about the book as I go! It’ll probably take me a while to read though, im a little slow with your language.”

“OKAY. SURE.”

And then the two of you are reading, on opposite sides of the couch. Five feet apart cus you’re not gay. What a stupid fucking reference. Id stop writing right now if I could bring myself to. But I must continue.

Seriously though, it’s pretty peaceful. For the first time ever since meeting Karkat, being in his presence was actually helping you to relax. Everytime you finished two chapters you would stop and discuss it with him a little. You both had the same thoughts for the most part, so it was really chill.

After about 12 chapters, you figured you needed a break. You closed the book and took a big stretch with your arms. Karkat looked up from his own book to watch you curiously. Totally not in a creepy way or anything.

“Well. I think that’s enough for now” you say, satisfied.

“REALLY? YOURE NOT GOING TO READ IT ALL RIGHT NOW?”

You would almost think that was sarcasm, if he didn’t have such a seriously confused look on his face.

“I mean.. no. I don’t really read whole books in one day. Do you?”

“YES.”

“Oh wow. You’re committed then.”

It’s a silent for a moment. Kinda in a awkward way. Kinda.

“So, didn’t you say before that you had more than one copies of this book?” You asked.

“YEAH. WHY?”

“When was the last time you read it?”

“UHHH. I MEAN I GUESS ITS BEEN A WHILE NOW, I USED TO REREAD IT REALLY OFTEN SO I PRETTY MUCH HAVE THE WHOLE THING MEMORIZED. BUT ITS BEEN A PRETTY LONG TIME SINCE I READ IT LAST.”

“Thennn… would you wanna read it together?”

“WHAT? WHY?”

“Because! Then we could experience it at the same time and talk about it together!”

“THATS WHAT WE’VE BEEN DOING.”

“Yeah but it’s not the same because you’re reading something else! You’d be more invested if we were both reading it”

“I JUST TOLD YOU I PRETTY MUCH MEMORIZED THE WHOLE THING.”

“I know I know. I just thought it’d be fun.”

You frown a little, disappointed. Theres another silence.

“ALRIGHT. FINE.”

You immediately light up again.

“WHY DO YOU WANT TO DO THIS WITH ME SO BAD?”

You pause for a moment. Why DO you want to do this so bad?

“I don’t know! It just seems more fun than reading it alone. It’ll be like our own book club!”

“WHAT’S A BOOK CLUB?”

“Uhhh it’s pretty much what we’re doing right now. A group of people get together, read a book separately, and then discuss it with each other every few chapters or something like that.”

“THAT SOUNDS STUPID AS FUCK.”

“Haha yeah.”

“DID YOU HAVE A BOOK CLUB?”

“Oh no, that shits boring. It’s only fun in this context because im reading an alien book with an alien who’s actually interesting.”

Oops. Did you just compliment him?

Karkat: Compliment noted.

“OH. OKAY.”

The air is actually weirdly awkward now. Karkat doesn’t seem nearly as mean or angry as he usually is. You had a theory that was actually a big softie under the exterior, but you’re still kinda surprised he can be so tame.

For the next several hours the two of you read the novel separately, discussing every now and then about it. Once you finished the book, in one day, you had a pretty heated discussion about the ending.

Then, when you decided you were pretty tired, he walked you over to you/roses room. Rose was already asleep, so you had no problem parting from him and getting to sleep as well.

END OF DAY 1.

#homestuck #karkat x reader #karkat vantas #homestuck fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #homestuck x reader #karkat vantas x reader #dave x reader #dave strider #dave strider x reader #karkat x dave x reader #terezi pyrope #rose lalonde #kanaya maryam #homestuck karkat

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language, nudity (but, like, for art), and violence Warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, including violence between the shipped pair, leaning heavily into the "enemies" part of "enemies to friends to lovers" Summary: Local vampire discusses art, depictions of certain anatomy, and enjoys the company of her feral soulmate for 4.5 minutes. Then it goes to shit (as things tend to do). 0-60 Real goddamn quick. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly

4: Portraits For Ghosts

“Am I really supposed to just… stay here? Did she honestly think that I, of all people, would behave? The universe gave me two good hands, and by God, I intend to make that someone else’s problem,” you mutter to yourself as you get dressed. It’s not that you necessarily had anything in mind, rather that you hated the idea of waiting around for who knows how long for Cassandra to return. Especially considering what she had done prior to leaving. Sure, you had laughed, but that hadn’t meant much in the end. At this point, you hadn’t even been out of the dungeon for a full day yet, and the memories of what happened there were fresh in your mind. Nightmares, too, even if you had pushed them aside to deal with Cassandra’s. Why did I bother? You wonder, frowning. There was hardly any point to comforting a monster, no matter the way they trembled.

Or at least that’s the lie you sold yourself.

Soon enough, a knock at the door brings you out of your head. Daphne, maybe, you think, remembering the maiden from yesterday. When you open the door, however, you’re met with an unfamiliar woman. She’s a few years your senior, at the very least, and appears surprised to see you. In her hands is a very enticing tray of food.

“Lady Cassandra wanted me to bring this to you. I am… I am glad to see you are feeling better already,” she says, voice shaking. What was with these maidens and assuming you were anything like your soulmate? Though that last part did catch your interest. Something told you that she wasn’t at all referring to your time in the dungeon. If you had learned anything from Daphne, it was that the best way to get information was to be indirect. So you graciously accepted the food, before speaking, dodging your way around your ignorance.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a bit of meditating can do for the soul- and body, that is,” you start, watching closely for any veiled reactions. Even within the first few words you can tell that this stranger wasn’t expecting you to be pleasant. “Out of curiosity, what did my Lady say about my condition? There are, uh, a few details that I hope she did not share. I’m sure you understand.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the maiden is nodding, appearing eager to satisfy you. Maybe a hint of fear can be useful, after all.

“No worries, Lady Cassandra did well to respect your privacy, and we would not dare question her further. She simply explained, to her family, that you were dealing with a migraine. I only heard this because I was helping serve breakfast,” she explained, smiling softly. You’re quick to nod, mimicking her expression for maximum empathy. “Do you require anything else? I am here to serve, you must only ask.” Ah, perfect. Would she have offered this even if you hadn’t attempted to be charming? Probably, but your politeness certainly didn't hurt.

“Well, there is one thing… as long as it’s no trouble.”

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

It had been a risk, asking the servant to take you to a room you weren’t sure existed, but one that had paid off brilliantly. Even if said room was nothing like you had anticipated. Who would have thought that Cassandra, you think, would be an artist? What’s far less surprising is the fact that the studio (or ‘study’, as you had called it) is a disorganized disaster. Discarded papers lie scattered around an overflowing trash can, a cabinet with an attached tool rack is missing pieces, and in one corner there are literally random shards of broken glass lying about. What is this, performance art? Part of you feels tempted to clean up the mess, if only to occupy your time. Instead, you decide to examine some of the pieces within the room. Maybe somehow they’d tell you something noteworthy about your soulmate.

First, you move to your left, where a workbench houses strange sculptures. For the most part they’re abstract, jagged edges contrasting with gentle curves, but there is one you think you understand. It’s very clearly a bust… of someone’s ‘bust’. Guess that solves the age old question of ‘boobs or ass’, you think, stifling a giggle. Moving on, you shift your attention to the exposed section of the cabinet. One row is dedicated to small vials, each labeled with a concerning ‘blood’, despite the fact that it’s clearly not refrigerated. Still, you have heard of artists painting with blood before, but you seem to recall them mixing it with something else. Perhaps Cassandra had done the same? Though you did wonder if she had any difficulty resisting the urge to drink the blood, at least prior to mixing it.

Shrugging, you continue to the other side of the studio, squatting to get a closer look at the broken glass. As expected, there’s no discernable pattern or purpose. Huh, you think, wonder why she doesn’t clean up. Maybe she’s waiting for a servant to do it? Guessing her reasoning was rather difficult, especially considering your lack of context, such as how long the mess had been here. Deciding that this was a pointless distraction, you move on to the only other thing of note in the room: An easel, in the center, with a canvas nearly as tall as yourself. So far, there’s little on it other than pencil lines, a sketch marking where to paint certain details. Only the (start of) the background has been colored. Understandably, it’s hard to make out what exactly the finished project would end up representing. Based on what you know of Cassandra and her family, however, you infer that this- with four figures, one larger than the others, protective- is a painting of the castle residents.

“Family means something to you, hmm?... I hope that mine does not miss me much, for I will never see them again,” you say to yourself, instinctively reaching out towards the art. Before you can touch it, or think better of it, the door to the studio is flying open. In storms Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. As soon as she sees you, she’s rushing forward, pulling you away from the easel. “Hello, darling. Glad to see me feeling better, yes?” You teased, smiling wide at her. Feeling a bit emboldened by your earlier success, you go a step further, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I swear to fuck, if you touched any of my stuff-” Cassandra starts to say, intentionally ignoring the kiss, even though her cheeks get flush at the contact.

“Nope, not a single thing. Not even the broken glass. Nice touch, by the way, makes the whole space feel a helluva lot cozier,” you interject. For a few moments she holds you by your shirt collar, staring you in the eyes as if determining whether or not to believe you. Somehow, some way, she declares you innocent, releasing you with an irritated sigh. After pretending to dust yourself off, you return your attention to the central canvas. “Do you do a lot of art of your family? I passed by several pieces on my way here, though they were certainly in a different style.” Another pause, with Cassandra waiting for you to spring a verbal trap.

“Some of those are mother’s work,” she answers, tentatively, eying you closely. When you merely nod in reply, expecting her to elaborate, she starts to relax, little by little. “I doubt you passed any of mine. Mother tends to keep those closer to her quarters, or near the main entrance.” Interesting, you think, why hasn’t she addressed my original question?

“It sounds like she’s very proud of you,” you muse, still facing away from your soulmate. There’s a slight shakiness to your voice, as your mind starts to dwell on memories of your own family. Perhaps noticing this, Cassandra takes a few steps closer, one hand hovering over your shoulder, not quite sure if you needed (or perhaps deserved) any comfort. In this moment, you feel far more vulnerable than you had the day before. Taking a deep breath, you try to center yourself, before perfectly ruining whatever trust you had just established with Cassandra. “Something tells me she doesn’t know about the titty sculpture though, right? Can’t quite imagine that one being displayed where everyone can see it.”

To your immense surprise, Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

“You… you really don’t know anything about my mother, do you?” She says, after several awkward seconds. It feels strange to think that she had been furious, merely a handful of minutes ago. “If you actually behave for a while, I can show you some of her favorite pieces around the castle. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Intrigued, you debate how exactly to respond. On one hand, you did want to see the art, but on the other hand… misbehaving was your goal of the day.

“Sounds like a nice date to me. Why not start the tour right now?” You suggest, hoping to meet your ‘politeness quota’ earlier rather than later. Still, it is in your very nature to be chaotic, and you find yourself giving Cassandra an affectionate shoulder touch. It’s not at all genuine, but the two of you blush nonetheless. How could you not, when your blood was bound together, hearts made to race in sync?

“Don’t get friendly with me,” Cassandra stammers, unadjusted to the way her pulse pounded. “This isn’t a date. We’re just- it doesn’t matter, actually. As long as it means getting you out of my studio, I don’t care.” With that said, she takes your hand in her own, pulling you towards the exit. If she has any feelings about the soft touch, she hides them well… unlike yourself. Cheeks flushed, you’re half tempted to yank yourself out of her grip, hating the way your heart skips a few beats. Would I still feel this way if I didn’t know we were soulmates? You wonder, biting your lower lip to prevent any unwanted comments from slipping out. Soon enough you’d have art aplenty to distract yourself with. Hopefully.

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

“My God, you were not kidding. I don’t- I can’t even think of anything clever to say,” you chime, staring dumbfounded at the several statuettes of naked women. They seemed to fulfill some other purpose, one you couldn’t parse at the moment, but you could hardly think about the details right now. “I mean, good for your mother, for sticking to a theme, I suppose,” you continue, tripping over your own tongue, uncharacteristically quiet. Clearly amused by your flustered display, Cassandra lets out a hearty laugh.

“Good to know some things can shut you up. I’ll have to keep this in mind for next time you bother me,” she teases, light-heartedly. Her words only fluster you more, though they quickly give you room to counter, much to your joy.

“Is that so? Planning on carrying around a busty bust for the rest of your life, or thinking of going the more au naturel route?” You asked, briefly sticking your tongue out at Cassandra. It takes her a moment to understand what you’re getting at, but as soon as she does she’s smacking your arm with an offended huff. Despite her irritation, the blow is relatively soft, and you swear you can see her fighting to hide a smile. “Starting to go soft on me, are you? I hardly even felt that one.”

“So you’d prefer I hit you harder? And to think you called me kinky,” Cassandra fires back, without a hint of hesitation. Now both of you are laughing, softly, like old friends sharing fond memories. It’s… weirdly nice. A warmth fills your chest, even as you try to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be happy right now. Damn it, you think, suddenly frowning, hands clenching. We shouldn’t be having fun banter, back and forth like a real couple. Not when I’ve still got wounds from her hands on my skin. Instinctively you reach up to your face, thumb running over the marks Cassandra’s nails had left behind. The touch stings, bad, no matter how gentle you try to be. Noticing your shift in expression, your soulmate inches closer. “If your wounds are bothering you, I can have one of the servants get more ointment or whatever it is we have around. I don’t want you to-... There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, besides, I don’t want you complaining all day.” Of course she couldn’t bring herself to imply that she cared. Of course. It wasn’t like the two of you were actually capable of being soft for each other, obviously. All of your confusion melts down, boiled by the warmth in your chest, turning to a familiar, albeit painful, rage.

“Right, right! Because you care so fucking much, yeah? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I-” you jab a finger towards her chest, accusatory- “talking to you? Why am I pretending you're not the one who did this to me? You’re the fucking reason my face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my brain-... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened down there. I can’t get those goddamn images out of my head, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I…” You trail off, chest heaving a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra’s standing tall, unflinching, but there’s a noticeable regret in her expression.

“What. Are. You… going to do about it?” She asks, through clenched teeth, fighting back the full force of her emotions. You can’t tell what exactly she’s feeling, but you know that you want her to show you. Every part of you is itching for a fist fight, regardless of how stupid you know the idea is.

“Depends, dickwad, on whether or not these statuettes are properly secured,” you snap, already moving, fully abandoning all impulse control. By the time your hand grips the first sculpture, Cassandra has put you in a headlock, forcefully tugging you backwards. Panic sets in, making you try to jam your elbows into her stomach. Before long both of you are tumbling to the floor, bodies already aching, limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to hit a target, any target. In the end the air is knocked from your lungs as your head smacks against the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” you grumble, coughing, finally processing just how much of a dumbass you were. It’s clear that at least one of the previous day’s wounds has reopened, and you feel something wet and sticky on your shirt.

“Finished, asshole?” Cassandra wheezes, sounding dazed, roughly pulling you up by your shirt collar. You nod, refusing to meet her gaze. Then she’s sighing in relief, letting you lean on her for support, holding you surprisingly close, considering the circumstances. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again…”

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #enemies to friends to lovers #blunt teeth sharp tongue #got some fun banter in this one!#followed immediately by heartbreak #they want to be soft so bad #but they do not know how #i promise they will eventually be soft #you have to remember that this is still less than 24 hours after part 1 #the reader is traumatized

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Sext - JJ Maybank

Request: I know you got a lot of requests already but if possible, could you do JJ x reader where the reader sends him a dirty text while they’re hanging out with the pouges?

A/N: I’ve never sent a dirty text and I’m terrible at them!!

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ sat on the other end of the couch, Pope in between the two of you, Kiara, Sarah, and John B on the other couch as the five of you watched the movie Sarah had chosen for movie night. Kiara had been the first to suggest having a movie night, just the five of you relaxing, no parties, while your parents were out of town. You leaned back on the couch, looking over at JJ as he tried to jam a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Not exactly the most attractive thing in the world but you had known JJ long enough to have seen him in some fairly compromising positions. Shoving popcorn in his face wasn’t the most attractive but it wasn’t the least attractive either.

You glanced his way again as the movie continued and JJ looked over, winking at you before turning back to face forward. Though neither of you had said anything to your friends, you and JJ had been dating for a few weeks now, since he’d slept over at your house for a couple days to stay away from his own. You had both agreed not to tell anyone, at least not yet. He’d sat further away from you, seemingly on purpose, but that didn’t mean you had to sit through this boring movie without bothering him just a little bit.

You sat up a little, pulling your phone out of you back pocket. JJ was exceptionally good at dirty texts. He sent them all the time, on an almost consistent basis, and you never knew what to say back. Usually you just sat there flushed, staring at the screen until finally you just gave up and tried to start a new conversation. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be good at texting JJ like that, you thought about replying all the time, thought about being able to make him squirm the same way he made you squirm.

-I wish we were alone right now-

It was a weak start but it was something. You didn’t want to jump in wholeheartedly but you had taken some pictures a few days ago and as often as your mom sent you articles about ‘the dangers of sexting’ you’d taken them with the express desire to send them to JJ.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, seeing your name on the screen and glancing over at you curiously, before unlocking his phone to read the message. You did your best to keep yourself facing forward, watching the movie instead of being obvious and watching JJ. You wanted him to retaliate just so you could keep messaging him, go further into this moment where the two of you could exist alone while your friends sat right there, completely unaware.

-Yeah, whys that?-

Now was the real hurtle. The dirty talk part you were so bad at that you should’ve known better than to start this. It was definitely something you couldn’t finish. You tried to think of a reply that sounded even remotely sexy, everything you’d read online, and you’d done an embarrassing about of research on the topic, only felt cheesy and lame and you definitely would’ve broken up with you if you read one of those. And afterall, this was JJ, who shoved popcorn in his mouth and said dumb shit to you all the time that was arguably more embarrassing than a few texts about why you wanted him alone. You knew why. But the saying it part was hard, because despite all the dumb stuff JJ said, he could be pretty descriptive when he wanted to and it never sounded lame.

You should’ve just sent him a picture, you had a fairly decent collection, most taken Kylie Jenner style on the floor of your bedroom in front of the mirror, but now it would seem out of place, or maybe you were just over thinking things.

-cat got your tongue?-

JJ texted you again and when you looked over at him he grinned. It was that sure fire, ‘you started this’ look that he always gave you when you tried to flirt and failed miserably. You angled your phone away from Pope because if you were already embarrassed you’d be even more so with him sitting there between you, catching a glimpse of your phone as you pulled up the camera roll. You found one that didn’t quite give everything away, you sitting just so that you were covered but also naked. There were others with lingerie on but maybe you’d save them for random whenever’s. You sent it along with a promising ‘pictures worth a thousand words’ hoping that was okay.

You peeked over, watching for JJ’s reaction, smiling when he sunk down further on the couch, biting his lip.

-when did you take this-

He’d been at your house the last couple days and he definitely would’ve remembered you having a photo shoot. You didn’t answer, just sent another one. Angled again, but giving away more than the last one. He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable in a good way, as he looked over at you. This time though, you kept your eyes on the movie, phone turned over in your lap as you tried not to give him the satisfaction of your gaze.

Before he could answer, simply because you were enjoying having him be the one who was flustered and looking like he didn’t know how to proceed, you sent him the full on picture that you had been completely embarrassed to take but had resolved yourself to. You put your phone back in your lap, face down so no one could see if JJ texted you back and you glanced over, watching him open it, his whole face going red as he shifted in the seat again.

“Dude, stop moving,” Pope elbowed him, glaring at JJ. He’d been squirming in his seat since the first text you sent and he was sure he annoying everyone but he really didn’t care about anyone but you and the pictures you’d sent him.

“Sorry, sorry.” He got up hastily, phone clutched his hand so fiercely that his knuckles were white. You heard the bathroom door slam down the hall and Pope stretched out, happy to have more room now that JJ was gone.

You waited for anything. A text back, some kind of appreciative message confirming that he liked the pictures. Instead there was nothing, no reply since the first picture and even that hadn’t been anything other than a piqued interested in when the picture was taken. When more than 15 minutes passed and Kiara mentioned that JJ was still holed up in the bathroom, you offered to check on him.

“Be careful.” John B joked and you rolled your eyes as you headed down the hall. The bathroom was toward the end, far enough away that no one could see the door. You knocked, looking back down the hall as a somewhat out of breath ‘one minute’ sounded on the other side of the door.

“Jay?” You asked, ready to knock again when the door flung open and JJ pulled you inside the bathroom. You bite back a surprised yelp, knowing that alerting the others would not bode well for either of you. He let the door swing closed again as you pushed you up against the sink, lifting you so he could stand between your legs. Hands on your bare thighs and you didn’t even get a moment to breath when he started kissing you, feverish almost and you grabbed the back of his head to keep him there. It didn’t last long as he left a trail of wet kisses down your neck, doing his best not to leave any visible marks on you. “And here I was, worried you didn’t like the pictures,” you teased, slightly out of breath as you spoke.

JJ pulled away so he could look at you, leaning in close as his hands moved from your thighs to your ass, trying to shimmy your body into his. “Are you kidding? Fucking hell, you can send me nudes any day. In fact,” he kissed you to punctuate his new idea, you should send me like one nude every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Assuming we live for a while…I’ll probably get old and wrinkly.”

“Don’t care.” He shrugged.

“How romantic,” you teased, tapping his shoulder, “we should go back out, they’ll wonder where we are.”

“Fine.” JJ groaned, stepping away from you. While you slid off the counter, JJ finished zipping up and buttoning his shorts.

“Wait, did you come in here to-“

“My fucking gorgeous girlfriend sent me naked pics, what do you think?”

You smiled, any nervousness from before melting away as you followed JJ down the hall to where your friends were. Kiara looked over, seemingly uninterested in more than the fact that you had returned, remarking that you both missed the best part of the movie. You apologized, sitting down on Pope’s left side and pulling your legs up onto the couch. As Sarah suggested another movie, someone else’s pick this time, you looked over at JJ and he winked at you.

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years

Text

Fic: So Close Yet So Far Away

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay 'Lady' Ray

Warnings: Language, talk of sex, throwback to sex, Pope is a crude asshole. Yearnnniinnngggg.

Summary: Lady and Pope get into an argument and Frankie sorts her out. Cue some elite level yearning.

A/N: HAHAHA I wasn't even meant to write this today but I woke up with this on my mind and I just had to because they're my BABIES. This is an instalment in the Frankie x Lady series and takes place back when Lady was in Frankie's squad, before they were an item.

Jay should have known better than to ask about everyone’s weekend. She just wanted to make small talk while they got prepped for a field exercise. She wasn’t ready to hear about their night out on Saturday, how Santi, Frankie, and Benny all scored some willing chicks, Will only missing out because he had a girlfriend, not because he didn’t pull.

All the while Jay was stuck with her family, listening to her mother go on about how she was too good for the army, she should leave while she was still alive, get a normal job, marry, have kids… She could have been out with the guys, maybe get lucky herself and if not, at least have a fun night. Get drunk instead of sad.

And now she finds herself listening to Santi talk about his one night stand, not giving Benny a chance to talk about his, while Frankie, quite characteristically, clammed up about personal stuff.

“Nutted her so fucking hard and all she did was beg for more,” Santi brags, “best fuck I had in ages…”

Jay’s been in the military since she was 18. She knows how soldiers talk, she’s heard it all, she’s participated in the crude joking, she’s not put off by it. But on this Monday morning, while the squad is assembling their equipment, she doesn’t want to hear it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pope, do you fucking have to talk like that?” she barks, unable to hear one more word about his sexual conquests. The rest of them cease their activities in wait for Pope’s reply. Working so closely together, sometimes spending weeks cramped up on assignments builds close bonds but also breeds discord. It’s normal to be at each other’s throats from time to time but it’s rarely Jay who flies off the handle.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, My Lady,” Santi replies with a smirk, his voice at its most velvety. “I meant I made passionate love to her all night – “

“You are so fucking disgusting, you know that?” Jay hisses. “Just shut the fuck up about the whole thing, nobody wants to hear about it.”

“Clearly not you,” Pope drawls, quick to anger. In the corner of her eye, Jay notices Will shake his head at him. Don’t engage, bro, just drop it. But Santiago Garcia is someone who doesn’t let things slide when he’s in gear.

“When was the last time you got laid, Ray? You need to get those pipes cleared out. Get some d.”

When was the last time? Too long ago. She does have an itch but last time she scratched it, it just didn’t feel right. She had the same feeling of detachment as she experienced just now when she heard about last Saturday night, particularly the fact that Frankie got laid.

It’s not that she’s jealous. She’s just more comfortable with the idea that Frankie doesn’t sleep around with anyone.

“A dick isn’t going to solve my problems, Santi, unless it’s a big one up your sorry ass,” she snaps, a rude laugh from Benny telling her she scored a point. Staring hard at Pope, whose ridiculously handsome features show an obnoxious amount of amusement, she knows that he won’t budge until he’s drawn metaphorical blood.

“Just name the time and the place, Ray, I’ll be there. Will you?”

“Okay, knock it off.” It’s Frankie, of course. The voice of reason. “Redfly’s gonna be here any minute and I don’t want to do extra laps just because you two can’t play nice.”

Frankie always has that calming effect on her, even now when she’s inexplicably mad at him for having fooled around with some random girl he picked up at their usual dive. Is there a possibility of her being there again in the future? Jay doesn’t want to think about it. Right now, she focuses on the sense that Frankie’s words make. It’s not worth it. Santi’s not worth it.

“Just stay away from me, asshole,” she warns Santi before going back to her kit. The tension in the room eases and Benny, who’s closest to Jay, gives her a brief pat on the back and a nod that says Good call. She hears Frankie murmur something to Santi behind her back, then Santi’s mutter: “She on the rag or something?”

That does it. Jay throws down her backpack and spins around.

“You say that to my face, you piece of shit,” she growls, taking a step forward. Her body is quivering with pent up rage in need of an outlet and knocking Pope on his ass would serve as an adequate one.

“Jay, he’s not worth it,” Benny tries to placate her but she barely hears him. Her whole focus is directed at Pope and his shit-eating grin. He says one more thing…

“Got your panties in a twist?”

She lunges forward but doesn’t make it to Pope as several hands grab her and hold her back.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“Calm the fuck down, Ray!”

“Crazy bitch – “

“You’re on really thin ice, too, Pope! Shut that motherfucking mouth of yours!”

Benny is physically restraining her as she practically vibrates with desire to beat the crap out of Santi, who’s held back by Frankie.

“Ray, he’s not worth it,” Benny tells her. “Take a walk. Smoke. Calm down. He’s an asshole.”

He’s right and Jay knows it. Mustering up all of her willpower, Jay rolls back onto her heels, straightens her back, and squares her shoulders. Without looking at anyone, she turns around and stomps out.

Frankie finds her by the vehicles, in the backseat of a Humvee. Her fore and middle fingers are rubbing against her thumb: she’s quit smoking but is clearly wishing she had a cigarette right now. Frankie climbs into the backseat from the other side and pulls up a pack from his pocket, offering it to her without words. Jay hesitates but eventually takes one and leans closer to him when he flicks open his lighter. Frankie can smell the anger on her, a sweaty tightness that radiates from her muscles. She sits back, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a frustrated puff of smoke.

“Fuck,” she mutters, “I don’t wanna die because of these.”

“I thought you quit?”

“I did.” She throws him a glance and a grimace before flicking the cigarette out through the open door. “I thought you quit as well?”

“I keep them around for emergencies like this,” he shrugs. Jay looks pointedly at him.

“Then you haven’t truly quit, have you?”

He loves it how she puts him on the spot like this, provokes him, forces him to reconsider, change his way of thinking. She always does it with such ease, sometimes with a teasing glint in her eye. She just makes him want to be a better person.

“I guess not.” He throws her a small smile that goes unreciprocated. She stares into the back of the seat in front of her, lips tight. Frankie would love to just sit here in silence and let her lead, let her open up in due time, but he knows that if they don’t join the others soon, Tom is going to make a scene.

“Pope’s an asshole,” he states. Jay scoffs but says nothing. “But what’s up with you? You usually don’t let shit like that get to you.”

Her nostrils flare and he sees the muscles of her throat flex. Eventually, she parts her lips to speak, her voice strained.

“I spent the weekend with my dear mother, my brother, and his family. And you know what mom’s like.”

Frankie nods. Yes, he’s heard about Jay’s mother and the dislike the woman has for her daughter’s career choice. The older brother is married with one kid and another on the way and he, of course, is a saint, a pinnacle of human achievement, his children the very essence of what makes a successful life, his wife the perfect picture of Woman.

Jay suddenly twitches, then kicks at the seat in front of her.

“Fuck!I hate this fucking shit!”

Frankie refrains from putting a hand on her shoulder, no matter how much he would like to. He might end up with a broken nose.

“I cut her off,” Jay says tonelessly. “Completely.”

“About fucking time, Jay.” He’s been waiting for this to happen and he wants to tell her that he’s proud of her but it’s not his prerogative, no matter how much he would like it to be.

“Yeah,” she agrees, still not looking at him. “I kept hoping that she’d get her shit together but…” Her voice trails off and she swallows hard. “Fuck. I miss my dad.”

“He’d be proud of you,” Frankie assures her, biting off the endearment that threatened to escape him. Mi amor. Querida. He wants to be able to call her that, wants to be the one she’d come to with her sadness. Wants to be the one to call her mother and tell her to go suck an egg.

“You should’ve called,” he tells her but she only shakes her head. Stubborn as a mule.

“You were out. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

It had been ruined the moment Santi laid eyes on the company of three young women by the bar. He had zoned in on the curvy brunette and Benny had picked the fiery redhead, leaving Frankie with the blonde. He didn’t want her, didn’t want any of the others, but he had fallen for the peer pressure and for every drink, he figured it could be a good idea to get laid. The girl was pretty, funny, nice. She had a hot body and was clearly willing. They had gone to her place and he had treated her like he would treat every woman he slept with: he ate her out, giving her several orgasms with his tongue before even thinking about putting his dick in her.

She had insisted on riding him. Frankie didn’t mind but as she bounced on his cock, her round, heavy tits jiggling in front of him, he didn’t see her face anymore. No, it was Jay all along, Jay’s long, lean body on top of him, Jay sinking down on him, her slick, hot pussy swallowing his cock while he swallowed her moan. The fantasy had become so real that he had to wrangle the woman off of him and take her from behind instead.

He left in silence once she was asleep, crept out like an asshole, a coward. He usually asked a woman if she wanted him to stay, he had once upon a time enjoyed having breakfast the next morning, sharing kisses when he finally left. But now, it all felt like cheating.

“You wouldn’t have ruined the night,” he tells her quietly. “It wasn’t that good.”

“The night or the sex?”

“The latter.” His ears are burning and he refuses to look at her.

“Too much to drink?” There it is: that sweet, amiable little taunt she saves for him only – or at least he hopes she does. He’s never heard her speak like that to any of the other guys.

“Wrong girl.”

Jay turns her head and looks at him. The distance between them in the backseat seems to shrink and grow at the same time when he returns her gaze. The hairs at the nape of his neck rise when he loses himself in the fathomless ocean-blue of her eyes.

He has to kiss her. He mustn’t kiss her.

“Are you two done with your fucking therapy session?”

Both of them startle when Tom shows up by the open door on Frankie’s side.

“I have an exercise op to run and I don’t have time to wait for you to feel quite ready, Ray,” he adds before slapping his hand to the roof of the Humvee. “Get your asses in gear.”

He leaves without having noticed anything. Frankie wonders how it’s even possible. Didn’t Tom feel the air crackle with electricity? Didn’t he hear how hard his heart was beating?

Jay gets out of the vehicle and slams the door shut, and Frankie follows suit. As they walk back, keeping a distance of two feet between them, Jay murmurs a Thank you, Morales to him.

“Sure,” he replies easily, forcing himself to sound neutral. “I got you, Ray.”

#my fic #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x lady

42 notes · View notes

qitwrites · 3 years

Text

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

#bnha #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #flustered #boku no hero #mha #they're idiots your honor #giving out the wrong number au???#if that's a thing??????#this one's a monster y'all

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gypsydanger01 · 4 years

Text

THE STORM - Part three

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x Reader

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Posting new chapters every Wednesday and Friday!

Come together

She was so late. Sarah knew she needed the rest, her body and mind both fatigued under the stress of simply being who she is. Of having to constantly be alert for threats to her identity and her life. And so, she’d taken what was meant to be a short nap, an energy boost so she could power through the rest of the evening.

She slept through the alarm. What ultimately woke her up was that prickling sensation one feels when subconsciously realizing they’re resting for too long. Feeling this pinprick at the back of her brain, she slowly opened one eye and then the other. Rolling onto her back, she exhaled loudly before swinging herself up and out of the bed. It’s then that she noticed the time. Immediately, she shot into her closet tossing random sets of outfits onto her bed. She took a quick shower and applied little to no makeup, reminding herself that a natural look is always best. Finally, she returned to her bedroom and made an impulsive decision on what to wear. She’d usually take an ungodly long time to choose an outfit, but she had about ten minutes to walk out the door.

As she spun in the mirror, she suddenly stopped and looked at herself intently. While being satisfied with her unruly curls and soft makeup, she could see the tension in her shoulders, the dread in her eyes. And although she loved musicals and shows, she couldn’t help but want to curl up in her bed instead. And it wasn’t because she was tired.

No, it was fear that sat heavy in her stomach, rooting her to her spot. The ticket to the show had been left for her by the mysterious B.N.

At first, her worry and confusion had been softened by Martha’s idea of a secret admirer, a timid co-worker who was working up the courage to ask her out. But as the weeks went by, Sarah was less convinced. Somebody was watching her, knew her routine, her likes and dislikes. Someone knew where she lived. At work, she was increasingly jumpy and afraid of every corner. Did Vought figure it out? Were they baiting her, waiting for the opportunity to eliminate her and the threat she posed?

It would be the perfect cover-up: a young woman is followed by a stalker, a fact that many other people already knew from the flowers delivered to her office each week. When he finally confronts her, she rejects him, angering him to the point where she’s murdered. This could explain her body being found in some alleyway, or even her disappearance.

Was this ticket going to deliver her to her maker? Would it take her straight to her death? The theater was such a public place, utterly packed with people both inside and outside. But so much could happen on the way there and back.

Realizing she’d begun to shake, she stilled herself and thought of Mallory. She’d been taught better than this. The older woman would probably scoff at her for walking into such an obvious trap, but she couldn’t run from it either. If it was Vought, they’d been toying with her long enough. She’d be careful, alert. Finally, she gathered her coat and purse and walked out.

“Hey, honey,” a voice spoke up from the sidewalk. She froze in the middle of locking the door. Maintaining her grip on its handle, she was unsure on how the next few minutes would unfold, how she would handle the unpredictability of the man standing behind her. But she felt the imperceptible change in her stance as her mind sharpened. She was taught many things, but taking shit isn’t one of them.

“What do you want?” she bit out, turning to face the man she’d never wanted to see again.

“Come on, babe,” he trailed off with a laugh, “it’s been almost a year-- I wanted to see you, maybe y’know, talk. God knows it’s time”

“I want you to leave,” she stared him down. “Now,” she added.

He moved fast up her porch steps, and she was quick to slip the key back in to open the door. She’d stuck one foot into the house when he stopped her, grabbing onto her wrist. He squeezed tight, the frazzled woman containing a wince.

“You need to stop before I hurt you. We’re over, Jason. Over.”

“Come on, you needed a break, and I gave you one.” He inched closer and whispered, an intense look in his eyes, “It may take time, but it always boils down to me and you together.”

She kicked him hard, "It's you and I, you illiterate ass."

He lazily let go, allowing her to back into the house. Before she could slam the door, he’d stuck his foot in. The woman pressed onto the hardwood with all her weight, but there was no stopping his breach. He stood menacing in the entrance, but she didn’t inch back.

Something clicked in her, like a mounting fury. The vase of pretty lilies sitting idly by the entrance. The floral pin in her hair. The ticket. The earrings. She grabbed the vase and threw the water in his face, letting the flowers fall off to the side.

“You,” with a snarl she pointed at him. “How dare you try to weasel your way back into my life! Have you been following me because I swear.”

She snatched the pin out of her hair, letting curls fly in front of her face. The pin quickly followed the water in a general trajectory towards him. Although her aim left much to be desired, she hoped it stabbed him in the eye. She tensed, ready for a fight. Her fingers twitched, and she wished she had a gun to curl them around.

Jason made a move to say something when a sudden force pulled him through the entrance, sending him flying back.

One moment he was there, and the next he'd vanished.

She stopped moving, stopped breathing. But not a moment later, curiosity had her moving towards the porch with tentative steps. A dark shadow stood tall over Jason’s crumpled body on the sidewalk. Dressed in a black armored suit, the figure was heaving deeply. Its strict posture seemed to be shaken by erratic breathing, like an animal's. A long knife’s sharp edge glinted under the moonlight, and she realized what was about to happen.

She threw herself forward, “No, no, don’t.”

Jason’s features were bloody, but his eyes were open, and he was breathing. His arm was folded at an awkward angle under him. The tall, masked figure tensed, and turned around completely, stiffly, until he was fully facing her.

The blood drained from her face. “Black Noir.”

It wasn’t clear whether her words were meant as a statement or a question, but he replied with a slow nod.

His breathing had gone quiet and steady. His eyes were hidden behind the heavy black goggles he wore, but she could’ve sworn he gave her a calculating look. As if he were measuring the weight of her words. He looked down at the crumpled figure, and then slowly back at her. She realized it was a silent question. Was he asking for permission? She hated Jason. He was a terrible person, and it’d taken her time to shake his influence from her life. He was ungrateful and a coward and a mistake.

Now, on the ground he was choking on tears. While he mouthed ‘please’ in her general direction, clasping his hands together, she almost wished she hadn’t intervened. That Black Noir had hurt him. Though his gaze was concealed, she could read anger in his stance. She thought he looked like a modern fury in the night, and she was sure this must be the scariest moment in Jason’s life. As Black Noir waited for her word, she realized that in one silent look, one silent gesture, he’d made her judge, and he her executioner. Looking down at her ex boyfriend’s form, she steeled herself against her heart’s instinct. After those years of suffering, it only wanted to hurt the man on the ground. The tall man standing over him watched her, trying to read the conflict in her eyes. But she was no judge. And she would not make him her executioner, no matter how willing.

Steadying her voice, she spoke softly. “Let him go, it’s not worth it.”

They stood there for a few minutes, as Black Noir processed her words. The urge to finish the filth laid out on the sidewalk was strong, and he had to steel himself against it. He didn’t want to get carried away in front of her, have her witness the monster inside. And if he disobeyed her request, would he alienate her forever? Would she hate him, be disgusted by him?

Finally, he shot down and grabbed onto the other man’s shirt, tugging him upwards. He brought his face up to his mask, reveling in the way the smaller man trembled with fear. He let him go and moved away, taking a protective stance in front of the young woman he’d sworn to protect.

Jason scrambled to his feet and caught a glimpse of his ex behind the shadow who’d come to stand in front of her. Black Noir shifted to hide her from view, but she still saw the disbelief printed onto his features, the wild look of fear in his eyes. He moved backwards, crossing over to the other side of the street. Looking over his shoulder, he sped away, holding onto his side.

Black Noir watched him go, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He centered himself and decided to file the man as unfinished business.

Peering around him, she watched her ex disappear at the corner down the street.

Looking up at the dark shadow standing with his back to her, she stood in slight disbelief herself. She couldn’t help the shock still coursing through her veins. Seeing Jason after a year. Learning that he’d been stalking her for some time. Black Noir appearing. Asking him to spare the life of a man she loathes.

And now that she was alone with what she knew to be Vought’s personal hit-man, was this it?

He moved towards her slowly, and she took equally large steps back. Should she run, slam the door? It’d be useless, she didn’t stand a chance. Years ago, she might have been able to make a stand. Not now, not anymore.

They were in the house and he raised his hands. It confused Sarah. She expected him to finish her off quickly. The potential cover-up would hold: her abusive ex-boyfriend shows up, and as she rejects him things get out of hand. He gets violent and she ends up with her head bashed into a wall or a vase crashed into her skull. She knew what Black Noir was capable of. He’d have to control his strength to make it look like a human had murdered her.

She stood frozen and couldn’t seem to bring her heartbeat to an acceptable rate. She knew he could hear it, and she wondered if he was getting off on her fear. What he did next took her completely by surprise. Black Noir leaned down and began to gather the scattered lilies at her entrance. He picked the fallen flowers up by their long stems, placing them back into their vase.

He could feel her heart beating wildly, like that of a scared rabbit. He focused on the flowers he’d chosen for her, thinking of a way to calm her down. Was she still panicking after the attack, or was she simply afraid of him? She’d seemed fine with him when he’d crossed her in the lost-and-found.

When his thoughts returned to the other man’s appearance, his blood rushed in an unpleasant way. It was the surge of wild energy that coursed through him before a hunt.

He moved towards her, with long, smooth steps. He raised both hands, one steadying her head, the other holding a shimmering piece of metal. Immediately, she flinched, and her breath grew faster. This was it. The fight in her immediately reared its head, and she gathered all her strength to push against him, her hands curled into fists. He tensed and took a step back, exhaling loudly. It disturbed him that she could think he would hurt her. If only she knew to what extents he'd go to protect her. He showed her the piece in his hand: it was the beautiful pin of flowers. They glinted under the light in different shades of blue.

She stammered, “I thought--” He could still kill her with the pin, she reminded herself. All he had to do was jab it hard into her neck, and she was a goner. She breathed in deeply, “Why? Why are you here?”

When Black Noir just looked on, she grew uneasy and began to squirm.

She steadied her voice and squared her shoulders. “You need to leave.”

He looked on and slowly nodded. He wanted to claw at his face, at the terrible being he’d become. She feared him, entirely closed off and ready to run away. He gently lifted the pin to hand it to her.

She shook her head, “You can take it. I don’t want anything of his.”

The big man let his hands drop to his sides and took a step back. He tilted his head to the side. If she could’ve guessed, she would’ve thought he was dejected, disappointed even. He held out a firm hand. She shook her head. He insisted. With hesitation she took it, and he held her fingers delicately, like they were made of thin glass. The gloves were rough against her skin. Her mind wandered to how many men he’d killed or beat senseless. Jason had gotten lucky that night.

Black Noir led her in front of the mirror. She slipped a small dagger out of the hidden pocket she’d sewn into her dress. From behind, he ran his fingers over her hair, slipping the pin into place. She stood tense, not understanding the meaning of his actions. He knew she’d pulled a knife out, keeping it flat against the palm of her hand and out of view. The gesture intrigued him. He tilted his head slightly and wondered how much he still had to learn about Sarah Burns. He stepped away towards the door.

She was utterly confused by his gesture. It felt meaningful, but she couldn’t decipher it. Was he truly just going to leave? He had helped her with Jason, would have killed him even. He’d picked her flowers up off the floor. He’d gently thread the pin back into her unruly locks of hair. “What is going on?”

She whirled around, just as her voice compelled him to face her. She was already confused, and the night had raised her sense of fight or flight. She gripped the small knife tighter.

He didn’t want to add onto the tension he could read in her eyes. He was a shadow who would watch over her from afar, a shadow that should not taint her light. He felt something towards himself he’d never felt before: disgust. Disgust for the being he’d let himself become, or better yet disgust towards the way he’d succumbed to other’s visions of him. He’d been built into something further down the line from evil. Something deeper, something more focused and dangerous. And the issue was he liked it, he let it consume him and run free because he'd come to enjoy it. He felt empowered by it.

In her entrance, standing both inside and outside, he stood conflicted.

“Why?”

Disgust for himself and his inability to answer her simple question surged through him. And yet, he felt rooted to his spot, incapable of leaving. He slowly reached into a side pocket on his chest and extracted a petite, black box. Hanging on its side, was a familiar clean, white tag. The gift was small in his gloved hand, and he handled it with care as he placed it on the cabinet.

She looked at him, the flowers and the box.

She moved her fingers through her hair, careful around the pin she didn’t want to dislodge. Black Noir watched her in silence. In her dress and light makeup, her mascara slightly smudged under the eyes, he just wanted to take her in his arms and disappear. Her eyes were fixed on him as if she were looking into his soul. He looked away. He was a being both brutal and dark: his soul was too dark of a place for her.

“Black Noir. You’re B.N.”

Once he gazed back into her eyes, he found himself unable to look away. Suddenly flushed, and watching him with bated breath, she waited for a reaction.

The man in question thought he should just disappear into the night. It could all end there. He’d find a way to be content with watching over her from afar. Occasional gifts would remind her of him, should she continue to accept them. He’d never be able to stay away, but he could erase himself from her life. One of his greatest abilities was staying invisible, sticking to the shadows.

And yet, he wanted to be worthy of her attention, and he wanted her to want him close.

He nodded and stood straighter if that was even possible.

He could feel the woman’s heart rate speed up again, as she processed the new information. After a moment of speechlessness, she walked towards him. Coming to a stop only a few steps away, they simply looked at each other.

“Are you here to hurt me?”

Even with his military grade eye-ware she could sense the intensity of his gaze on her, reading her every move and gesture. He shook his head no.

He could be lying. He was a spy, sleek and dangerous. He never spoke, and she was sure that he was a professional observer. She was certain he knew how to read people, because that's what he does every day of his life. He never interacts; he observes and takes orders. Was he simply trying to get her attention? Was his following her unrelated to Vought? It shouldn’t, but this somewhat filled her with relief. She might just have a normal stalker, not a hit-man sent to kill her by the organization she was planning to tear to the ground.

Or was he here for information? Maybe they weren’t so sure about her involvement and had sent him to assess the situation.

But this could go both ways. She’d feed him false information, and maybe she would be able to extract information from him. She severely doubted this but giving him the information she wanted to give would allow her to control Vought’s research on her.

Still somewhat confused and flustered, she kept eye contact with him. This would be a dangerous game of cat and mouse, where the cat is a man who could snap her neck in a split second.

She offered him something they probably both needed. “Let me get us a glass of wine and we can talk.”

PART 4 PART 5

Giulia

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #black noir #romance #fanfiction #superhero #the seven #vought

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