#for a chapter you own

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

alright I am highkey annoyed that the savior of necrom title is tied to an antiquarian achievement which requires you to do 4 dlc dungeons in order to complete. 

[bardofavon]

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

[tadfools]

You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?

You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on a chapter at three am is right?? Right????

You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?

[egophiliac]

A guy who just wake up from a coma -> what did i miss?

Pomefiore was the last plot i follow before real life made me forget about our silly boys. How bad has the plot become now for our gang? Also who is that Gojo looking guy?

anon, I am so sorry and I mean this in the best way, but I do think episode 5 is the absolute funniest place to have stopped following Twst because shit starts escalating SO fast after that. episode 6 literally starts with a secret government shadow agency breaking down our doors and kidnapping students. zero to a million instantly.

and like...that's not even the zaniest thing so far? Ortho's hacked into the collective human unconscious. there's time travel (sort of). "Crowley might be Malleus' long-lost father" is a serious theory. if you'd told me any of this back pre-episode 6, I would have asked for the link to this unbelievable but highly intriguing fanfic.

also, episode 7 gave us (and then immediately took away 😔) the best character in the whole story:

[canisalbus]

What if I told you that RoobrickMarine went and wrote an entire novella starring my 16th century dog couple? It's very canon-adjacent, well researched and thoughtfully put together, has inspired me a ton during these past months and it's now publicly available at AO3. I highly recommend it.

✦ Separation ✦

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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[collegeboysam]

Fake Armand enjoyers trying to excuse what he did when real gremlin Armand lovers know one of the best parts about Armand is that he's a fucked up scheming devil beneath his "woe is me" doe eyes, who enjoys fine art in all forms as much as he finds deep delight in stalking someone nearly to madess while threatening to murder them if they bore him, falling in love in the midst of psychological torture once he discovers the most fascinating side of his prey, a nuclear warhead who has always wanted to be loved with his more dark and ugly sides included and not only for his beautiful Botticelli's angel exterior. The real Armand is finally coming out after decades of hiding behind the mask he thought he had to construct around himself.

[zuzu-draws]

Trolling aside, i think there is some great importance as to why Gege chose this specific manner of panelling for the Yuji-Sukuna confrontation in JJK 264. We can't help but think that Gege's trying to show us some sort of a parallel between Gojo and Sukuna in this situation.

In JJK, there's this interesting notion of one's decision to go "North" or "South" as explained by Nanami during Gojo's death Flashback:

And we all know, that chapter of Gojo's death is titled as "Go South", which highly implies that Gojo chose to stay as who he was, as opposed to starting as something completely anew.

Now the interesting point in the Yuuji-Sukuna confrontation is that apparently...

....the destination for the supposed train within Yuuji's domain...is "North".

Which means that Yuuji's taking Sukuna towards the North.......

They're heading towards the North.....do you guys understand what that means?? For BOTH of them??? Q C Q

[fumifooms]

I don’t like minimizing the importance and gravity of Laios and Toshiro’s fight into just being a childish squabble, even if to a degree it is framed that way, because to both of them it has a lot of personal significance and emotional weight and runs very deep to their characters… The fight isn’t nothing it’s a LOT, they made up but it’s not something easy to express and to get over for either of them which makes it all the more meaningful! I’m on both sides but there very much are sides, there’s no "they’re both having a ball, Toshiro and Laios hand in hand yay" side to the fight, that comes after

The fight with Toshiro WAS very scary to Laios, almost existentially so, but it’s moreso the "I thought I’d made a friend!!" bit and my god. My god actually

Like it’s not "just" about oh his friend liking him less than he thought, THAT IS SO MUCH. It’s a bond he thought he had being a lie it’s all the time and moments spent together either being a lie from his perspective or marred now looking back. It’s not only being upset at Toshiro for lying but upset at himself that he’s so easy to fool, it’s being upset that there’s something so wrong with you that you can’t even tell if your "close buddy" even actually likes you or not, it’s like. Holding my head. He can’t trust his own vision of events that happened do you see. There’s always this film of distrust that it could be a lie that should be there when he interacts with people there’s always this sense of cloak and dagger to expect backstabs out of nowhere because you CAN’T see it coming you CAN’T you CAN’T there’s something about you which makes it impossible so you CAN’T-

He’s so scared of not being able to read people. He knows it’s a weak spot he has, he’s always known. All of these bits are centered around social expectations and betrayals, the assumption that he doesn’t belong either in society or with other humans.

And Laios’ level of awareness is actually sort of complex to analyze, but it’s there, there’s how out of him and Falin he was the one sensitive to the ~aura of hatred~ he felt from the townspeople, there’s of course his nightmares whispering to him about the mocking looks, and how yeah actually he realizes that his gold stripper coworker was taking advantage of him. There’s of course the Winged Lion speech about his trauma and how he fundamentally mistrusts/dislikes humans to some deep seated degree, this distrust that he still keeps under control always. There’s how pre-canon he often wanted to suggest eating monsters but never worked up the courage to bring it up with the others. There’s how he gets across as stoic when he isn’t being enthusiastic…… We don’t know how aware and wary he is exactly in the moment but we do know he has some anxiety around social stuff, and looking back he does notice and aughh augh, the sense you have to hide yourself to not get hurt and be on your guard and shit and.

When you don’t know what to look out for and when to look out for it, the general ‘common sense’ of not always trusting people or noticing when someone’s messing with you becomes hypervigilance in social settings

"Man they really know what you hate huh." Being socially unaware literally plagues him, he knows, he knows it so well.

It’s so quick that it’s almost hard to digest how literal and blatant Laios summoning his monster to crush all the people who’ve hurt him is. His literal go-to coping mechanism for comfort in his literal monster-induced emotionally intense nightmares, saving him by taking away the upsetting element (the humans)

"Monsters are his coping fantasy, where they can whisk him away from humanity, all the hurt it’s caused him and its arbitrary rules" with the subtlety of a brick. Monsters are his comfort safe zone "because they kill humans" yes but no it’s because he pits them as the guardians against humans who to him are in the role of the agressors. To him they represent freedom from the shackles of what it means to be part of humanity, a fundamentally social species

[steamedlotusroot]

remember when swk tried to take li jing and nezha to court for gross negligence in jttw? good times

[pavo-dence]

finally finished ghost trick

[matcha-milkies]

Sometimes I'll be writing a line of Bill dialogue, and then I try to put myself in Ford's shoes to figure out how he'll respond, and I'm hit with the biggest wave of exhaustion out of nowhere like. "What do I even say to this? 'Fucking kill yourself, Bill'?" Let me tell you, it's hard being Ford Pines. As someone who spends an ungodly amount of time writing fanfic from his perspective, I should know.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 6 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 4.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, mentions of adult themes (e.g., sex), this chapter is pretty light-hearted imo, the calm before the storm or so they say, buckle up for the ending!!!

a/n. we're 2/3 of the way, y'all! as the series nears its end, i'd love to hear about what reading it has been like for you! my replies, reblogs, and asks are always open <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter—it was a blast to write!

links. masterlist, ao3

The sound of wind chimes echoes throughout the crowded room, albeit slightly drowned out by the busy chatter of customers and waiters alike, coupled with the clanging noises emanating from what you think is the kitchen. Still, you’re quick to glance at the entrance when the ringing eventually reaches your ears.

Equal parts disappointment and relief flood through you when you catch sight of two people walking in who are decidedly not the guests of the hour.

“Nervous?” comes a sudden, low voice at your right.

You turn to look at the source, and what greets you is a Bakugou with an inexplicable expression on his face. You feel your eyebrows furrow ever so minutely—and you forgive yourself for it, because what the hell are you supposed to reply to that?

Acutely aware of the bug stuck firmly against your chest, though, you scramble for a natural response.

And really, what would be more natural than the truth?

“Would it be weird if I told you I am?”

You weren’t trying to be funny with that quip, but apparently Bakugou finds it humorous, because he chuckles before shaking his head. “Nah.”

He doesn’t expound much after that, to your chagrin. You shrug it off, though, opting to soothe yourself instead. The last thing you need is to seem frazzled—even if you are—not when you’re fully cognizant of Hiroto’s unassuming presence a few tables across from you.

Well, as far as a baseball cap, sunglasses indoors, and a flimsy mustache pass up for unassuming.

Another attempt of yours at a hasty glimpse at the door gets interrupted when Bakugou stretches out his left arm to check his sports watch. You manage to take a peek and see that it’s 11:21 AM. According to the man beside you, they didn’t agree to meet until half past eleven, but you’re here early, just as you planned the night before.

Needless to say, Masaki was understandably skeptical.

“And here I thought you’d know better than to easily believe chatter, Bakugou,” replied the leader when the pro-hero elaborated on his proposal.

“And here I thought you’d know better than to underestimate the word of mouth,” came Bakugou’s impatient response. “If there’s anything I learned working in the field, it’s that that sort of thing shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

“Rumors can escalate, especially if they’re as intriguing as the ones circulating about us. Besides,” he added, “We could use some fucking fresh air. Why don’t you try being cooped up for more than two weeks, hah?”

Masaki didn’t take the bait and counter with another wisecrack, evidently troubled by the newfound information and the fact that Bakugou was making sense. However, despite the ash-blonde’s persuasive argument, the man turned you down and sent you back to your activities after a moment’s consideration.

You went through the day masking as much as you could despite the defeat weighing down your steps, entirely convinced that you lost your one chance at informing the outside world about the plans of attack. Bakugou was extra cranky, too, blowing up all the targets in quirk training and leaving nothing but a pile of ashes for the rest of the members.

You were about to grab your pillow and duvet cover from the bed to make the nightly transfer when a series of knocks resounded from your room’s door. From where he was lounging on the mattress, Bakugou eyed you, and you took that as your cue to get up and figure out who the fuck was going to make your already shitty day even shittier.

It didn’t surprise you to find a stoic Hiroto on the other side, but what did surprise you was what he’d say next.

“He said you could go,” he started, seeming pained, as if it hurt him to say that. “On one condition.”

“What is it?” you asked, hopefulness rekindling, just as you heard Bakugou sit up behind you.

“I tail the both of you.”

Which leads you to the present, seated in a large booth beside Bakugou in one of his favorite katsu restaurants, with a disguised twin watching the two of you like a hawk, waiting.

And if you really think about it, you’re quite lucky things turned out this way—with Bakugou’s words of warning getting to this damned organization’s leader, even if you are being tailed—because otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this golden opportunity to communicate with the rest of the—

“Kacchan!”

You whip to look at the entrance—startled—and sure enough, standing by the glass doors are four people who you could recognize from a mile away.

Pro-heroes Chargebolt, Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane.

They’re all smiles as they march through the tables, as if their big introduction wasn’t enough, and normally you’d be sinking in your seat in embarrassment at how loud and flashy your companions are being. But for once, you’re actually thankful they are this way, reminding yourself that you’re not only here to pass a message.

No, you’re here to make a scene.

You stand up out of courtesy as the four arrive at the booth Bakugou selected when you arrived roughly thirty minutes earlier—positioned conveniently smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. Bakugou gingerly follows suit.

“Kacchan!” Chargebolt—Kaminari—repeats, flashing the man a toothy grin, before bringing in him for a hug, which the latter begrudgingly accepts.

“It’s been too long, bro!” the electric hero quips as they pull apart, his gaze then drifting to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “And who do we have here?”

“Don’t make her feel embarrassed, Denks,” comes a good-natured voice from beside him, and you shift to look at the man speaking. Kirishima—Red Riot—tosses you an apologetic smile, reaching out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Eijirou, one of Bakubro’s closest friends. It’s great to finally meet you, …?”

“Y/N,” you supply, smiling back at him as you shake his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you guys.”

“Bakugou’s finally got a girlfriend, huh?” Cellophane—Sero—who’s standing tall behind the redhead—comments, a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“Watch it,” Bakugou warns from beside you, although it doesn’t have much bite to it.

“And she’s really pretty, too!” pipes up Pinky—Mina—who elbows Kaminari to the side to pull you into a hug, which you readily return. Not knowing what to say, you only laugh, shooting her a grateful look when you let go of each other.

“Thank you for coming out here despite the last-minute invite,” you offer, feeling a tad bit self-conscious. Still, you press on, gesturing towards the seats. “Please, sit down.”

A chorus of ‘Sure’s’ and ‘Thanks’ erupts from the group as they settle in, with Mina, Kaminari, and Sero sitting across you and Kirishima piling in your booth, situating himself beside Bakugou. As they do so, you take the opportunity to quickly scan the restaurant, and sure enough, virtually everyone has paused their respective conversations to look at what’s going on at your table, curious expressions etched on their faces.

“So,” Kirishima starts, leaning into the table to peer at you. “How does it feel to be the cause of Bakugou’s downfall as Japan’s hottest bachelor?”

You splutter, caught off guard by the question, but Bakugou comes to your rescue by punching the ridiculously buff man in the arm.

The latter only barks out a laugh.

“Shut it, shitty hair.”

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima huffs out, chuckling. “You can choose not to answer that. But y’all have to tell us how you met, though.”

At that, Mina squeals, like she just got reminded of that juicy opening. “Yes, please! We made a bet on the way here. Sero’s convinced you’re a paid actress, but I say you had an adorable meet-cute, like at the grocery or something!”

“The fuck?” Bakugou says just as you snort.

“Wait—” Sero straightens up in his seat, completely ignoring the ash-blonde. “What was that snort for? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You better fucking watch yourself, you—”

“Sorry, Sero,” you manage to get out, pulling a lie out of your ass just in time. “But Mina’s right.”

Said girl fist pumps the air while Sero visibly deflates. You feel Bakugou’s eyes trained on the side of your face.

“We met on the airplane,” you continue when nobody says a thing. “We were seatmates, he was reading a book that I loved, and we just hit it off from there.”

“Seriously?” Kaminari cries out, thankfully catching everyone’s attention from your definitely-not-just-made-up story. “It couldn’t have been that easy.”

You shrug, not really knowing how to respond to that, but gratefully you don’t have to because Bakugou chimes in.

“To you,” he taunts, before: “And what’re you complaining about? Aren’t you planning to ask Ears out?”

“Don’t—” Kaminari begins, before ultimately sighing in surrender, mouth formed into a pout. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“There, there,” Sero pats the blonde’s back, although he’s looking far from sympathetic. “Time and place for everything, bro. Now’s not the time for you, though.”

“I knew it!” Mina sing-songs, crushing your dreams of having successfully closed the ‘how did you meet’ chapter of this conversation. Still, you try not to let the dread show on your features.

“What drew you towards him, Y/N?” the acid hero furthers. “On that day at the plane.”

“What…drew me towards him?” you lamely parrot.

“Yeah!” she laughs. “You know, did you think he was cute? Did he smell good? Was he being a gentleman?”

“Do we really have to know all these?” Sero complains.

Mina looks away from you to regard the ebony-haired man, a playful frown decorating her pink face. “Now you’re just being a sore loser, Sero.”

You gulp, taking the short window of reprieve to think about what to say. How does one even come up with an acceptable answer? You chance a glance at Bakugou, and you try not to appear shocked when you find him already looking at you.

Well.

You swore you’d never walk through memory lane, at least the painfully humiliating one concerning Bakugou throughout the course of this mission, but it seems like current affairs call for old data.

And so you dig through the past for a response.

“I—uh…” you start, before trying again. “Well, just as you said, I found him attractive. Physically. But also, with the way he just carried himself. He was very into the, uh, book, and I found it endearing.”

To that, Mina drawls out a long ‘aww’ but gets interrupted by Kirishima, who leans forward again to look past Bakugou and right at you. “But he wasn’t a stranger to you, was he?”

“No, we—”

“Of course, not,” Kaminari cuts you off, “Kacchan here’s crazy popular. Ever since UA, remember?”

“Uh, no, actually…” you trail off, and everybody turns to look at you, questioning.

You take a deep breath.

“I’m actually from UA, too. But from the Gen Ed track. I was your…batchmate.”

“No way.”

“Seriously?”

“Why haven’t I heard of you?”

“I knew you seemed familiar,” the redhead proclaims, his booming voice overwhelming the rest. You shift to face him, shocked.

He beams at you. “You have that interesting quirk. What was it? I think it was luck—”

You gape at him. “Right.”

That causes him to grin wider. “Yeah! I remember Midoriya rambling about how unique your quirk was and how it had so much potential during our graduation ceremony.”

You only gawk at him just as Bakugou stirs in his seat. You steal a glimpse at the man, who, if you didn’t know any better, is looking miffed, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, you take the chance to smile at Kirishima, gratitude blooming in your chest at being remembered.

“Now I feel like shit for not recognizing you, babe,” Mina laments.

You shake your head. “No offense taken, Mina.”

“Still! I should’ve—”

“But wait,” Kaminari interjects, features morphed into an uncharacteristically serious expression. “If you found Kacchan attractive just by first impressions alone, wouldn’t that mean you would’ve had a crush on him back in UA?”

You blink.

Fuuuu—

“Quit spitting nonsense, dunce face,” Bakugou spews out of nowhere, stunning you into a lull and shutting everyone up.

“That’s faulty ass logic,” he finishes without further explication.

Silence.

“…I guess so,” replies the electric hero after a beat, sounding just as bewildered as you are.

But then Mina claps her hands together, and suddenly the tension dissipates. “Enough about the past, you guys! How about now, Y/N? What do you like about Bakugou here?”

“What are you, my old hag?” Bakugou swiftly retorts. “Quit fucking proddin—”

“We’re just curious, bro,” comes Kirishima’s easygoing reply. “We’re happy for you, and we’re keen on the details.”

“…Fine.”

You were about to whip to look at Bakugou, surprised at how easily he relented and all the while unceremoniously threw you under the bus, but you’re able to stop yourself from doing so in the nick of time.

Instead, you turn to look at his friends, who are all staring at you expectantly.

Jesus.

Here goes nothing, then.

“He cares…a lot,” you start, voice wobbly. “But I’m sure you guys knew that already. And, he’s very protective of me.”

“I feel safe and comfortable around him. Plus,” you pause, a chuckle unexpectedly bubbling in your throat. “He’s funny. I mean, he swears to god he doesn’t snore but he—”

“Wait, wait, wait—hold up.”

You freeze, and one look at Kaminari’s face is enough to let you know you fucked up.

Pro-hero Chargebolt grins at you. “You mean you sleep together?”

Shit.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said yes, would you?

Not that you can say no.

And so as you purse your lips, you nod.

“…Yeah.”

At that, and in a blink of an eye, the group erupts into a fit of cheers and shouting but Kaminari’s cry is the one that emerges on top of it all as he stands up.

“Kacchan’s finally getting some!” he practically announces to the entirety of the restaurant, before turning to the man in question, his arm raised. “Give me five, bro!”

Unsurprisingly, Bakugou only glares at him, seething. “Quit fucking talking about my sex life, you dipshit.”

“Not until you return my hi-five!”

“Fucking—”

You watch the two as they have a staredown, but only a few seconds in you can already tell Kaminari is nowhere near backing down. Bakugou must’ve noticed that, too, because a beat later, he averts his gaze—not before rolling his eyes—and acrimoniously slaps the former’s palm.

“Enough about us, though, right?” you assert—desperate to get the spotlight away from you and your fake relationship—just as Kaminari seats himself with a big, proud grin on his face. “What about you guys? What have you been up to?”

To your relief, Mina enthusiastically takes the lure and begins chatting up a storm. You listen with genuine interest as she goes on about starting her own agency and rising to 17th from 28th last year. Kirishima adds to the narrative by divulging how he’s since taken in a fresh UA graduate as a sidekick as per Midoriya’s recommendation. Eventually, you find yourself slowly relaxing as he continues, drawing parallels between his experience with Fat Gum and now being the main hero himself at 9th place in the HBJ.

You try asking Kaminari about how his agency is going, but no matter how he starts his storytelling, it always drifts back to the fact that his building is next to Jirou’s, which unfailingly goes to how it’s going with him and the Hearing hero.

“What did I tell you, bro?” Sero chastises him when Kaminari starts waxing poetic about the musician slash hero. “We’re here to celebrate the happy couple. Don’t go raining on their parade.”

“No—really, it’s oka—”

“I have to go to the restroom!” Mina throws in abruptly and as a matter of factly, completely disregarding the previous topic, before shifting to face you. “Care to join me, Y/N?”

Now, as much as you want to escape from the group and take a breather, you still find yourself hesitating at the invitation, although you manage not to shoot Bakugou a look lest you cause suspicion.

You talked about this—last night—how you’d secretly transmit the details of the attack to any of the four. Your plan requires you to be at the scene, prepared to use your quirk on anyone at any time if necessary, but even you can’t deny that it’d be odd if you declined Mina’s offer.

Girl code and all.

Sero must think the same, too, because the man comes up with an irritatingly badgering remark. “What, can’t bear to be away from Bakugou for even a second?”

“Sheesh,” Kaminari piles on while the rest aside from Bakugou—who’s turning red from what you’re sure is displeasure—snicker among themselves.

“Ha ha, very funny, Kaminari,” you laugh in an attempt to play it off, ultimately deciding to get up as Mina does the same thing from across you.

And you’re about to leave it at that and follow Mina to the girls’ restroom, but you’re stopped by your gut—and an inkling that Hiroto is closely watching the exchange.

Before you can even think twice about what you’re about to do, you spin on your heel and lean down and into Bakugou.

You barely register him shortcircuiting at the sudden proximity, too caught up in your own audacity, as you clench your eyes closed and hastily plant a chaste kiss on his absurdly soft lips.

And just as quickly as you invaded his space, you pull away, mouthing a soft ‘Be right back’ before once again spinning on your heels and starting the trek to the comfort room, willing yourself to ignore the hooting and whistling behind you.

Mina jogs after you, grinning when she catches up and offers you a low-five.

You return it.

“Atta girl.”

“I love your makeup, by the way,” Mina comments as she emerges from a stall behind you, while you wash your hands in one of the sinks.

“And your outfit, too,” she adds, and before you can say anything back: “Do you always look like this?”

You’re not about to tell her you usually look like you just rolled out of bed but are in the middle of a somewhat life-or-death mission hence the constantly put-together look, and so you just shrug sheepishly.

“Uh, I just try to look presentable, you know?”

“Girl, you look more than just presentable.”

You shoot her a thankful smile. “Thanks, Mina.”

That causes her to brighten up. “Don’t mention it! Though, you mind telling me what lip combo you’re wearing?”

Now you’re anything but a gatekeeper when it comes to beauty and your girlfriends, so you tell her. She promptly notes it down on her phone with the signature active-listening nod, thanking you when you finish answering her follow-up questions.

“Great! Now I have another excuse to go shopping.”

You laugh, moving to throw the tissue you used to dry your hands with and head out when she reaches for your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn to face her, eyebrows raised in question.

She beams at you.

“I’m really happy for the both of you, you know?”

You stammer, but Mina goes on—releasing her grip on you—before you can think about something to say back.

“You do know that you’re his first girlfriend, right?”

You did not know that.

You don’t let her know.

“You see, he’s always been popular with girls, especially ever since the end of the Great War. He really doesn’t know how to go about them, though. You’re the first one to really tame him like this.”

You can’t help it—you snort at her word choice. She snickers.

“Thanks, but I really don’t think there’s much to—”

“Girl,” Mina cuts you off, “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

You gulp. There’s absolutely no need for you to know about this, let alone be fed with delusion-fueling lies. Still, you can’t find it in you not to ask. “What about it?”

She giggles. “You really need me to spell it out? His gaze has always been intense but I don’t know—they seem extra piercing when he’s looking at you. And, he looks at you more than you think he does. Believe me, I’ve been studying him ever since we walked into this restaurant.”

Nah.

You wave her off as nicely as you can. “You’re too kind, Mina.”

And she really is, so much so that you’re actually feeling guilty over putting this whole act in front of them. The girl is just trying to hype you up, while you’re here flat-out lying to her face.

“Whatever,” she waves you off, and you’re just about to think the conversation’s finally over when, once again, she continues, a mischievous look on her face.

“About what Kaminari said, though—I know stuff was implied and forgive me—but I just have to ask. I promise this’ll stay between us, but…”

Oh, no.

“…Have you done it yet?”

You choke on your spit.

“Sorry! Sorry,” she talks over you, patting your back as you cough your lungs out. By the time you’ve gathered your bearings, she’s smiling at you guiltily, though something tells you she’s still waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

There you go.

And really, what’s left for you to do than confirm her suspicions? Especially after you quite literally choked like that?

You nod your head slowly, and she squeals.

Great, you think to yourself. Now Pro-hero Pinky, one of your great role models, thinks you’ve fucked one of her closest friends.

You try to console yourself by saying at least the rest of the Quirk Coalition is hearing this and probably getting more and more convinced about your sham relationship.

Copium, right?

“I swear, this secret stays with me, bestie!” Mina reassures you excitedly. “Just make sure y’all stay safe, okay?”

“O-of course, yes.”

“Great. Let’s head out, yeah?”

By the time you return to your table, some of the food’s already been served—everyone’s except Mina’s and Kaminari’s. You got so caught up in dealing with the rocks they threw at you mid-conversation and in managing being with Mina that you completely forgot about ordering food.

“Wait—I didn’t—” you sputter as Bakugou and Kirishima step aside to let you squeeze into the booth, following suit and sitting beside you once you’re in.

“You two were taking too long,” explains Kirishima. “Bakugou went ahead and ordered something for you, as well as Mina’s go-to dish.”

“Yay!” Mina claps, “Thanks, Bakugou!”

“Thanks…babe,” you say quietly, eyeing the ebi tempura katsu he got you.

“No problem,” comes his curt response.

Thankfully, no one comments on the fact that you just called Bakugou a pet name, distracted by the waiter serving the remaining food. Amidst the increasingly rare quiet, you look down at your own plate, before sneaking a glance at the ash-blonde’s beside you.

You didn’t notice you were already staring at his bowl of chicken curry when his deep, low voice rips you out of your stupor.

He eyes you. “You want mine?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I’m good with the tempura.”

And, as if to prove your point, you pick one up with your chopsticks and bring it to your mouth, taking a small bite. You smile at him, “See?”

Bakugou studies you for a beat longer with his eyebrows furrowed, before he picks up his set of chopsticks and steals away your piece of shrimp.

“Hey—”

You don’t get to have a word in before he devours the tempura in one bite, nor when he swiftly switches your trays between the two of you.

“Bakugou—”

“Damn,” quips Kaminari, catching your attention. You quickly realize that everyone else is gawking at the both of you, too stunned to speak.

The vibrant blonde points to what’s become your dish of curry with his chopsticks. “He’s never done that for any of us before.”

“Yeah,” Sero piles on, eyes wide as saucers. “He loves his hot curry.”

“Bakugou,” you try again, reaching out for your plate, but he gently swats your hands away.

“Just—eat.”

You frown, though you know better than to argue the second time.

“God, I’m stuffed!”

You chuckle as you watch Kaminari rub his belly like a pregnant woman, while Mina and Sero beside him look just as maimed by a particularly debilitating case of food coma—if not more.

“I understand why this is your favorite lunch spot,” you offer, “The food’s amazing.”

“Right?” retorts Kaminari. “We used to go here a lot when we were still—”

“Excuse me,” the waiter—having seemingly emerged from thin air—cuts off the blonde, who instantly shrinks in himself at being interrupted. “Here’s your receipt, sir.”

Kirishima accepts the bill and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Bakugou’s quick to snatch the leather pad away from him.

You straighten up just as the rest of the squad burst into a series of coos, teasing you about how cool your #2 pro-hero of a boyfriend is.

A remark that they instantly take back when said boyfriend busts out a pen, seemingly to help him double-check the bill and fill up the customer feedback form that was distributed during the middle of your meal.

You know better, though.

You barely catch the side eye Bakugou gives you, but you do, and you immediately ready yourself to use your quirk.

You try not to seem too interested in what he’s jotting down as he hastily scribbles on the form, opting to look at the three in front of you instead.

Almost instantaneously, you realize it’s a mistake.

“What’re you two planning on doing after this, Y/N?” asks Mina.

“We—uh—”

“Do you already have something planned?” interjects Sero, “Because if not, there’s this new place that I recommend you—”

“Actually,” you glance at Bakugou, but you don’t get to look at the paper before you return to face them. “I have—”

“What do you guys mean?” whines Kaminari, “Aren’t we still hanging out after this?”

You were just about to spew a dismissive remark when you feel something kick your shin, and you whip to look at Bakugou, but he’s not turned towards you. Instead, he’s facing down onto the piece of scrap, blocking everyone’s view of it while tapping on it with a pen.

Your eyes trail the length of the tool, and right at the tip of it is the word NOW, encased in a circle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Bakugou must’ve noticed you getting the signal because he then moves to pat Kirishima on the shoulder, and as he does so, you look up to discreetly search for Hiroto amidst the crowd, spotting him in an instant.

You can’t say for sure, but you’re pretty certain he’s looking straight at you judging by the way his body’s oriented toward your table.

Either way, it’s not like you have the luxury of hesitation.

Once you believe you’ve locked eyes, that’s when you pull.

Hard.

Harder than the last two times.

Acute wariness into boundless relaxation.

And you see it—the way his frame instantly slouches from the tense stance it was just in. He even reaches down in what you think is an attempt to check if his shoelaces were untied, and you grab the opportunity and immediately turn to check on Kirishima.

His face is evidently contorted in confusion when your gaze lands on him, and a surge of panic shoots through you at the sight of it. You think Bakugou must be feeling the same way, but you don’t dare waste a millisecond to verify.

Instead, you call out the redhead’s name, to which he responds by looking at you.

Once again, you pull.

This time, palpable bewilderment into laser-sharp focus.

And just like you did with Hiroto, you watch as Kirishima’s features shift into that of a harmless boy next door to the #8 pro-hero Red Riot, before he calmly takes the piece of paper Bakugou slid across the table and pockets it.

Once you’ve made sure that the message is safely secured in Kirishima’s jean pocket, you risk a quick glance back at Hiroto, who’s only now stretching back up from checking his shoes.

It then dawns on you.

You did it.

And not only that, you managed to make a scene.

That is, if you were to go by the distinct camera shutters that’d been going off the moment you entered the restaurant with Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki you’re definitely not falling for again.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[egophiliac]

we were fucking ROBBED

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures (Directory)

Homelander x plus size f!Reader 18+ completed series. 20k. AO3 Link gif credit tags: workplace harassment, stalking, obsession, voyeurism, somnophilia, breaking and entering, assault (not by HL), violence, murder, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstimulation, riding. nebulously takes place post-s1.

Homelander is on top of the world. He can say or do whatever the fuck he wants, and the sycophants around him will bend over backwards to make his word law, with few notable exceptions. He never expected someone like you to be one of them. When you put him in his place after a workplace incident, he becomes fixated on the promise of a firm hand alongside a soft body.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

[muzzlemouths]

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