#he’s irritating but god dam it if he’s not going to get you the most expensive sushi plate if that’s what u like

[theloveinc]

todoroki also awarded good boyfriend points bc he understands the importance of one’s favorite food

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki Comfort

This…. This is exactly why you tried to stay off of social media. Nothing good ever came from it.

Being a pro hero, you and Katsuki’s names were constantly in headlines.

Most of the times on the news, it’s for the great things the both of you do and it’s separate depending on the missions you both go on.

But online is another story. Apparently the general public didn’t think the two of you belonged together. All over fan pages and popular accounts saying how they thought he would look better with Uravity or Deku.

They either said they looked better with him,and seriously what the fuck does that even mean?? Or that he seems to have better chemistry with them.

Seeing it once or twice wouldn’t have killed you, but you’d fallen into a rabbit hole… and now you were spiraling and at some point you started to agree with them.

Maybe someone that looked and acted like you wasn’t good enough for Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight. Maybe you just didn’t measure.

You weren’t even in the top 20 hero’s like the other two were. So why in the hell was he settling for you? Why is with you if-

“Hey y/n. I’m home. Where the hell are you?”, you heard Katsuki shout from the front door.

You quickly shut your laptop and tossed you phone on the bed. The next thing you know he’s bursting through your room door with a frown on his face.

“What the hell is your problem?”, he asked

“What are you talking about?? You just walked in here. Why do you think I have a problem.”

“Cause usually your ass is like an excited puppy, rushing my ass at the front door and today…. Nothin. So answer my damn question would ya?”

“I’m not a fucking dog Katsuki. I don’t have to be waiting for you and wagging my tail because you came home to me.” You snapped back at him and you immediately regretted it. You were taking your insecurities out on him but they were too much and you were hurting too bad.

When you looked up at him Kats mouth was set in a stern line and he’d crossed his arms. He looked like an unmovable wall. His eyes were locked on you like he was waiting for you to say something else.

But you couldn’t. There was already a lump in your throat and you knew if you started talking, the tears would 100% start flowing.

“You gonna stop acting like damn child and use your fucking words? I got all day to sit here.” There was no malice in his voice. No irritation.

“It’s nothing.” It came out as a murmur as you were getting up and making a swift exit for the bathroom. You didn’t want to be around him right now. Didn’t wanna say anymore hurtful things.

You almost made it too, but of course that freakishly inhuman speed of his caught you off guard yet again.

His hand wrapped around your wrist and spun you back to him.

“Can you please let go of me?” Now it was a whisper. A whisper and the first tear falling.

“ I’ll let you go after you tell me what’s got you this upset. You pissed at me about something? Your period about to start?? What the hell is it?” Asking again but the time his other hand was tilting your chin up to look at him.

The time your eyes made contact with him the dam holding back those tears broke and babe it was not a pretty cry. It was an ugly, blubbering, gross cry.

This isn’t the first breakdown Katsuki has seen you have and he’s gotten pretty good at handling them with you. So he wraps you up is his strong arms and just holds you. He tucks your head under his chin and gently sways back and forth like he’s coddling a small child. His hand is rubbing up and down your back.

Everyone knows Dynamite and a lot of people know the attitude on Bakugo.

But you were the only one who knew how patient and loving Katsuki is. The way he cares for you…. Even when you feel like you don’t deserve it.

Eventually the sobs calm.

“M sorry. I- I d-didn’t mean to get upset with you. I- I just- Are you sure you’re happy with me Katsuki…..am I really enough for you?” You were mumbling into his chest but you were sure he’d heard you with the way his breathing slowed and his arms tightened around you.

“Oh…. Now I get it. You’re not pissed and it’s not your period. You’ve just completely lost your damn mind…”

“I’m not crazy. I’m being serious!” You tried to pull away from. Retreat back into yourself but the man was stubborn and had arms made of steal apparently.

“Look woman I love you. Is that not enough?”

“Well people don’t care about that. You are a top 3 hero. You’re smart and talented and hot. You should be with someone…. Idk… more than me I guess. I’m just scared one day you’re gonna realize you could do a lot better than settling for me.” You said all that with your ear pressed to his chest and the loud thump of his heart in your ear.

“Look, I’m gonna say this once so make sure your ears are open woman.” He pushed you back from him so he could peer into your eyes when he spoke. “I don’t give af what anyone else thinks. You already know that. I love you. You’re a nutcase and you grind my fucking gears to no end, but there ain’t anybody else in the fucking world id be willing to put up with. I don’t like people! And I love you. That’s all you need to know. So cut this I could do better bullshit out…. Doesn’t get any better than you.”

He kept eye contact the entire time. Even when the silent tears started spilling over. He just took his thumb and wiped them away.

“You know what I hate though”

“What?” You sniffled

“I really fucking hate the way you make me say sappy ass shit like this. It’s fuckin embarrassing.” It sounded like he was exasperated but that goofy ass grin was still etched on his face.

A watery smile started pulling at your lips. Your boyfriend was the sweetest jerk.

“ ‘sides. I already got a ring. So ain’t no turning back.”he threw that in there like he was talking about the freakin weather!

He bent down and placed a kiss on your wet lips.

“What ring??!?? You bought a ring!?!”

“Yea so stop your damn “you could do better bullshit”. You’re stuck with me.” And he started walking away towards to bathroom. “And uh- it’d be awesome if ya said yes” as he shut the door to the bathroom closed.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You went to the bed and flung yourself on it.

He was gonna propose to you….. he already bought a RING!!!!

You were gonna be Mrs. Bakugo!

I guess you were still giggling to yourself and laying down on your back when he came out of them bathroom.

“Yea I’m convinced you’ve actually lost your mind. Sitting there smiling and laughing like a psycho.”

Before you could get up, his damp form was hovering over you.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I gotta thing for crazy chicks.” He has the biggest, sexiest smirk on his face.

“Oh yea… well you’re in luck hot stuff.”

*Ummmmmm… this is sooooo long. But I wanna do a smutty part 2. Cuz he’s nice now but Kats does not take well to you down playing how amazing you are.

Katsuki Masterlist

[crow-aeris]

More of TBUBF :3

(ft. cuddle pollen and Tim angst)

=====

Tim hisses, his body wracking with shivers and trembles as he coughs. Chalky, dry, yellow pollen coated his entire face and the front of his body. Gods, he was cold- he was so fucking cold.

"Wraith," someone calls through the comline, their voice wavering, "Rreport."

"...Cold," he whines lowly, his feathers dragging uncomfortably against the grass as the abnormally large plant loomed over him, "It's so- s-so..."

"He's in Robinson Park," Duke's voice filters through the line, and Tim couldn't help the pathetic calling chirp that escapes his lips, "Anubis, you're closest."

"I'll cover your route, Annie," Steph's distinct voice flits through Tim's ears, "go bring the birdie home. Robin should be with Seraph."

"I'm on the way," Bruce grunts,

He curls into a tight ball, a desperate whine peeling from his lips as he tried to rub warmth into his skin. Why was he so cold? It was so. Cold.

Where was Kon? Kon would help, he was warm. He was always warm... But wasn't he up north with Clark?

"Wraith," a steady voice calls to him, both in and outside of his ears, "Can you stand?'"

Tim tries, but exhaustion pulls unforgivingly at his limbs.

"...Very well. Seraph, alert Agent A and have him prepare the showers. Wraith is covered in Pollen C901134."

"Just say cuddle pollen, jesus!"

Tim hisses with irritation as Damian helped him to his feet, shame burning in his chest. He was so pathetic and feeble. What would his mother say if she saw what he's become?

"I will not call it by such an improper name!" a familiar voice huffs, hooking his hands under Tim's armpits, "Seraph, link the cave."

"You mean, the Batcave?" Steph giggles, and Tim peels his eyes open to blink blearily into Damian's eyes.

He flinches at the sight of emerald before falling dangerously quiet and still.

"Wraith?"

He flinches, a fearful croon building in his throat as he tilts to the side and purposefully exposes his throat and a low whimper.

Wings flare out to blot out what little light there was. There was a sharp prick against his side, a chilling feeling spreading throughout his body, but not only did the warmth not work, it only seemed to exasperated the chilling, biting cold.

A strangled wail filled the air, and it took a few seconds for Tim to realize that, oh, the wailing was coming from him.

"What happened?!" a distant voice, distorted by the fog in his mind, shouted in worry.

"Report," growled a low, thundering voice followed by the flash charcoal-gray.

"Wraith is incapacitated," Damian bites out, "Cuddle Pollen. It appears to be a new strain, seeing as the general antidote not only hasn't taken effect, but has worsen Wraith's state. He is delirious."

Tim whined, feeling like he was once again a small child, seeking comfort under red-white wings that were always out of his reach.

"He'll be okay, Robin. Shadow, assist Anubis in bringing Wraith back to the cave, understood?"

"Got it."

The world spun by in a nonsensical haze, and it took everything Tim had in himself not to keel over and curl into ball.

He hears voices distantly curl around him, but he was unable to focus on anything other than fleeting names. Then, he was set down on a cold surface, and the warm hands left his side.

Suddenly, the chill returned with a vicious craze, tearing and clawing at his flesh like an untamed beast.

He yelps, whining as a wet object was rubbed across his maskless face, and the overwhelming cold began to recede ever so slightly.

"Is he okay?!"

"Calm yourself, Jason. Timothy will be fine, he is hardier than most."

"I mean yeah, it's not always that someone dies and gets better."

"Mast Jason, I requested you not make these sorts of jokes, especially when the subject of is currently indisposed."

"...Sorry, alfie."

Tim takes in a shaky breath, his eyes blinking blearily open as he clumsily surges toward the closest person with panicked and confused chirps falling from his lips.

"Timothy! Everything will be-"

"Dam-" Tim chokes burying his face in the crook of his brother's neck, relaxing at the reassuring and comforting flood of warmth that soaked his skin, "Damian."

"...I am here."

"D-Don't leave," Tim whines, unsheathing his claws and sinking them into the back of his brother's shirt, "please... please don't leave... I- I don't want to be alone."

"I won't leave you. I promise." "P-promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

And with a shaky nod, Tim feels himself fall boneless against his brother, wings drooping in relief, and he falls victim to sleep.

When he wakes up the next morning, he and Damian would both deny the happenings of the prior night as something that occurred under the pollen's influence.

(Though while Tim forces himself to think his words were true- and Damian believing it as such- all the other Bats know better.)

[originemesis]

@sonxfadam xxx

Abel... his baby brother... after all this time. He doesn't know what's more upsetting. That his brother does not recognize him or that once he does he's acting like everything is fine. That this is normal. As if their last meeting hadn't ended in bloodshed and carnage. As if the act of Abel's murder hadn't condemned Cain to a life of suffering and strife. Angel... soldier... Visiting Eve. He's still heaven's and mother's favourite. Cain hasn't felt that powerful swell of rage and hatred for thousands of years. Time and distance had dulled it's blade against his mind and a difficult life of exile strengthened his resolve as he endured eternal punishment. An unseen dam breaks. Vision going red. As Abel carries on and makes light of the situation Cain is just frozen in place. Shock twisting to every remembered resentment and ire. Old fires rekindled. Forgetting that his brother is now an angel and not so easily harmed or that Eve would never forgive him if he were to repeat past sins. But Cain isn't thinking straight. Just like that fateful day that forever changed their lives. He's blinded by fury. By wrath and envy. All this time Abel's been enjoying heaven as one of god's chosen. Probably been having a blast with father up there as well while Cain was disowned and forsaken as the family failure. Sweet stupid little golden boy. Oh everyone just loved him so much didn't they?! Despite how irritating and simple he is! While Cain's the one who does all the hard work, who has suffered the most! Ungrateful entitled. He's always had everything given to him! Cain is going to rip off those wings and wipe that smile off his face.

"GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Cain certainly got their father's righteous temper. Forgetting his guitar in favour of chasing the angel down. Following him into the street. Spikes protruding from his body as his anger flares. Slicing and barreling through any random bystanders that get in his way. The mark burned on his face searing with pain but doing nothing to quell his murderous rampage as he tunnel visions the angel before him. "FACE ME YOU COWARD!" Tearing an imp in half who just so happens to cross onto the sidewalk at the worst possible moment.

Yes, the more the other's stare mounted as determined as a step forward or two to match his own hesitant back stumble, the more Abel realized he was going to have to make like he did father and 'give him space'. Well, the amount of space for father equated to not knowing he was even around anymore, which was quite a bit. So it was going to take a very fast sprint to cover that sort of distance after bumping quite literally into his brother. Perhaps if he could just get to Mom's house then it would suffice...but suffice to say, the street he suddenly took to didn't seem all that familiar at all, and clanking down the sidewalk as recklessly as he was didn't seem to help him with taking in the scenery, nor the fast fading street signs all a blur behind his bombastic sprint forward. The legion were known for their early morning drills of running full packed through hell mountains and the highest peaks of heaven, but that didn't require them to read the titles of blocks or somersault over pedestrians.

"Excuse me- sorry...! Pardon me...! ON YOUR LEFT- coming through!" He clucked to a resounding chorus of 'fuck you buddy' mid retreat seeming to have forgotten the wings on his back. Granted the scorpion tail was a bit heavy, so he didn't want to risk having to abandon it in the gutter now. With the sound of Cain's fury rising behind him, he scrambled to turn another corner, slowed by the venom now stuck to both his feet like gum making his relay a very tedious and tacky affair as he forced more momentum behind his mad dash to push through the resistance.

Only when he came upon a stoplight turning red in the middle of the road did he halt completely, reaching up to drum nervous fingers along his lips as he glanced furtively behind him to where a splattering of blood and imp guts awaited his attention.

Oh...oh that wasn't good-

His head whips back to the stop light, and his fingers drum faster- urging it to flash green. Come on, come on- COME ON...! He's already going as soon as the color indicates the most minor of changes. Of course that doesn't stop a brimstone brandished buick from running the stop light and slamming into his flank from the side. Temporarily airborne at the impact, he rolls into some nearby bushes across a conjoining yard, squeezing the scorpion tail the whole way- kind air bag that it is. It's only when he come stop near the edge of some trespassed backyard pool that he wobbles back up to his feet, head on a swivel to see where his brother had gone.

[toointojoelmiller]

look for the light: a last of us fic

chapter 2

BTHB prompt inspired - "electrical outage" Jackson loses power, Joel can't find Ellie, and panic ensues (for @bearrycool). cross posted to ao3 here ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4

Apart from the occasional periods of time where she didn’t seem to sleep at all - Joel wouldn’t get much then either, judging by the way his lights stayed on through the night - Ellie liked to sleep in when she had the chance. The group leaving for the supply run was heading out at dawn, with the sun still hidden and only just starting to lighten the sky. It was the earliest Tommy had seen her up.

Her short and slight ponytailed shape was easily recognizable, standing next to Joel and a buckskin horse. Joel was crouched slightly, adjusting the cinch of the saddle. Ellie looked a sullen, running a flat hand up and down the horse’s muzzle and raking her fingers through it’s forelock.

The trip to the pharmaceutical warehouse in Idaho had been planned for months, with the list of supplies that were running perilously short at the clinic growing every week, but there had been serious discussions about whether or not to postpone. A group of raiders tried to take the dam just as winter was thawing out and the world had started to bloom green again. The men on guard at the time had held the line through the onslaught, but the attack was more organized and better equipped than any they’d seen before, leaving everyone in Jackson rattled.

There were casualties - one of their own was killed, a decent young man in his late twenties who took a bullet to the neck, and two of their better patrolmen were injured enough to be off duty for a long while.

The treatment of the men who’d been injured in the fight had been difficult due to the dwindling stock of medication and supplies, making the need for the trip undeniable - and urgent.

Fearing the group would return, they'd bumped up the number of people stationed at the dam, but it meant less people available for the supply run. When it became clear that either Tommy or Joel would probably need to go for the run to stand any chance of being successful, Joel had volunteered - “You’re not goin’ - you got a goddamn baby to worry about,” he’d said firmly.

Joel had established himself as the most experienced and capable on the roster not long after joining the patrols - sending him made an otherwise small group feel significantly less risky. It made sense, even if none of them liked it.

As the group’s planned departure date approached Ellie seemed to get more irritated, snapping at Joel and storming off after a heated exchange of words on more than one occasion. Tommy assumed that she was worried for Joel, and not wanting to spend a week away from him. Maybe that was a piece of it - but Joel had pinched his nose and exhaled heavily as he filled Tommy in on the real reason for her frustration. “She won’t quit tryin’ to convince me to let her come - swear to god, her turnin’ sixteen is gonna be the death of me.”

Tommy wondered if she’d given up yet, or if she was going to try to badger Joel into letting her go with him until he was out the gate.

“You got a good one,” Tommy called out while he walked over, nodding at Maria as she left his side to check in on the others who were preparing to leave. “Flint’s a nice ride - you taken him out before?”

Joel shook his head. “Nah - this’ll be the first. Ellie picked him out for me, said the same.” He glanced at Ellie as he said it, and when she didn’t react he shot a look at Tommy.

“Well, she’d know,” Tommy said, smiling in Ellie’s direction and receiving the same lack of response. He shifted Charlie in his arms, moving her to his other side as she half-snoozed against his chest. “You and Dina’ve been a big help at the stables.”

She flicked her eyes briefly to Tommy, nodding once, and then turned back to face the horse. Joel sighed and shook his head slightly, meeting Tommy’s gaze again with worried eyes, the stress plain on his face.

“Charlie’s lookin’ forward to havin’ you around for the week,” Tommy tried again, hoping for the sake of Joel’s nerves that she would give them something.

It was a dumb joke they all had fun with - newly turned one, his girl wasn’t really talking yet, although she did pretty good at getting her point across with her squawking and babbling and pointing. It worked - Ellie looked over, her eyes landing on Charlie’s sleepy face with a flicker of a smile.

“Oh yeah? She tell you that?”

Tommy grinned, and some of the tension seemed to leave Joel’s face. “Won’t shut up about it, actually.”

“I can’t blame her,” Ellie said. “Spending all day with you - she must be dying to have someone cool to hang out with for a change.”

Tommy laughed, saying, “I reckon you oughta be a bit nicer to me, seein’ as I’m in charge of you until the old man gets back.”

Ellie snorted. “In charge of me? I agreed to sleep in your spare room, man - that’s it.”

“Hang onto him for me,” Joel said, handing the horse’s reins to Ellie as he stepped away. “Gotta talk to Maria for a second.” He tilted his head, gesturing for Tommy to come with him.

Joel lowered his voice as they walked towards Maria. “Don't feel right, leavin’ her like this.”

“Ellie’ll be fine, Joel. Ain’t like she’s gonna be by herself.”

Joel nodded as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a square of paper and passing it over carefully, like he wanted it to stay hidden from Ellie’s view. Tommy glanced back at her and confirmed that she wasn’t looking as he flipped it open. She was still loving on the horse, feeding it a palmful of oatmeal she must have dug out from the saddlebags.

Joel had lectured Tommy and Maria both on and off over the past week about things he wanted them to know while he was gone. Apparently he had no faith that they would remember any of it, because as Tommy ran his eyes over the two pages of paper, covered (both sides) in Joel’s handwriting, he realized he had been handed an Ellie instruction manual. What to feed her so she’ll eat enough - things to try if she stops eating. The addresses of her friends - Dina, Jesse, Cat - their parents names, and a star hastily scribbled beside a note about keeping a close eye if Ellie and Jesse were hanging out on their own. Nearly a whole page about how to help if she has a nightmare and what to do when she can’t sleep. A long list of what she likes talking about and an entirely unnecessary companion list of things not to bring up.

It was sweet, and it was insane.

“You know I’ve met her before, right?” Tommy couldn’t help but taunt. 

“Go ahead,” Joel said, waving a hand. “I just - don’t want somethin’ to come up that you - she’s a great kid, I know you know that - but - there’s a lot -”

Tommy folded the paper and shoved it into his back pocket before putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Joel. I know. Ellie will be fine. We’ve got her. Nowhere safer for her to be than Jackson, and you know that’s the truth. Start fuckin’ worryin’ about yourself and gettin’ back here in one piece, alright?”

Whatever lingering moodiness Ellie might have been feeling towards Joel for not letting her go with him, it didn’t stop her from crumpling a bit as the group eventually started to leave, tucking herself into his chest as he squeezed his arms around her for one completely vulnerable second. He started saying something to her quietly, and Tommy turned around to give them space to say goodbye. He scanned around for Maria for a few seconds, finding her already making her way back to them. 

By the time he turned back around, Joel had mounted Flint and Ellie was wiping her face roughly with her sleeve.

“Don’t terrorize Tommy too much,” Joel said.

“Don’t fucking die,” she muttered back, crossing her arms.

He gave her a pained look, and then nodded. “Do what I told you, alright?”

In a rare show of outright obedience, Ellie nodded solemnly.

Maria looked at him, an eyebrow partially raised. Tommy decided he didn't really want to know what exactly Joel and Ellie were purposefully not discussing in front of them. He had an idea, anyway - neither of them knew that he knew about the handgun Joel had snuck in that seemed to hang out in different spots of Ellie's room. He wondered if Joel’d told her to keep it on her while he was gone. It wasn’t something he wanted Maria finding out, anyway - nothing good would come of that.

When Joel was out of sight through the gates, Maria suggested they have an early breakfast together, since they were all up and dressed already. Ellie shrugged and tagged along with them, offering to hold Charlie on her lap while they ate.

Ellie was quiet at the table, picking at her food and spending more time feeding Charlie sliced strawberries than actually eating herself. It made sense for her to be feeling down with Joel officially gone, so it didn’t set off any alarm bells at first. But when she cleared her throat and put her fork down, cautiously saying, “So, I’ve been thinking…” Tommy and Maria exchanged glances immediately.

“About?” Maria prompted in her all business tone.

Ellie sighed, sitting back in her chair as she met Maria’s gaze. Tommy suddenly felt a bit nervous.

“I know Joel wants me to stay with you guys while he’s gone,” Ellie started.

Maria nodded curtly. “Which you’re doing - the spare room is ready for you.”

Tommy expected Ellie to deflate, but she raised her chin and set her shoulders instead. He thought briefly that he might be about to find out the answer to that ‘unstoppable force', ‘immoveable object’ nonsense.

“I’ll sleep better in my own bed,” Ellie said confidently.

Maria shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s not what we all agreed to.”

Tommy felt like he was watching a ping pong game, looking back and forth from one stubbornly set expression to another.

“I sleep in my place on my own every night. What difference does it make?”

“Joel thinks you’re staying with us, Ellie, so you’re going to be,” Maria said simply. “I know you don’t want to have to tell him that you lied to him when he gets back.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed for a second as she scoffed. “I didn’t lie -”

Maria nodded curtly as she cut in. “That’s right. You didn’t, because you said you’d be sleeping at our house, and that’s what you’re going to do.”

“You don’t want me there,” Ellie said, trying out a different tactic. “Charlie’s asleep so early - I’ll just wake her up. I’m playing around on my guitar a lot lately -”

“Ellie, come on -”

“And Dina was going to sleepover later this week so we can watch all of the Alien movies back to back -”

“Jackson has all of the Alien movies?” Tommy asked - he really was curious, but also hoping to derail what we looking more and more like a bubbling argument.

Both of them ignored him.

“I’m sixteen, not six,” Ellie said.

“You’re fifteen,” Maria countered, earning another exasperated eye roll.

“For what, like, a month and a half!” Ellie’s voice raised a bit in the middle of her sentence before she dialled herself back down. “You don’t - I’ve spent basically my whole life looking after myself. Just because Joel is...” she trailed off, looking down.

Maria watched her for a minute before she responded. She leaned in as she did, resting her arms on the table, and giving that piercing stare that always made Tommy feel like she was looking right through him. “You know what? You’re right. You are almost sixteen. And when you are, you’ll be able to start training for patrol, which means people are going to need to be able to count on you. Part of being reliable is keeping your word. It doesn’t mean a thing if you break it. So - it’s up to you. If you’ll follow through on what you promised Joel or not.”

She wasn’t happy about doing it, but Ellie caved. 

[magnorious]

A Titan’s Curse Retrospective, 16 Years Later

Lightning Thief and Sea of Monsters **Spoiler Alert**

When I first got my hands on this book, I looked at how thin it was and worried that each consecutive book would be shorter than the last. Titan’s Curse is the off-beat middle episode of the five, occurring around the winter solstice instead of during summer break.

It was never my favorite, but I remembered liking it because it felt darker. I remembered that, for the first time, characters we were supposed to care about were dying on the page. The gods were up close and personal now, at the heart of the quest. There were guns in this book, destiny-challenging decisions to forestall the Great Prophecy for a little while longer.

And, of course, Blackjack, the Dam Snack Bar, Fred, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and the arrival of the di Angelos.

Maybe that’s just nostalgia talking, ‘cause I’m pretty sure that when it came out, before HOO, Titan’s Curse was dead last on everyone’s tier list for one reason: Annabeth is absent for most of the plot, and Zoë is kind of irritating.

—

The Titan’s Curse

We open immediately to a much more serious tone than before, and a timeskip unlike before. The growth of Percy and Thalia’s relationship happens entirely offscreen between books, which is a bit disappointing. During the gap between TlT and SoM, the time in between books was filled with school, details unimportant to the plot. Here, though, we’ve missed some potentially juicy plot beats like Thalia’s reaction to the passage of time, her meeting Percy, another illegal demigod, her reunion with Annabeth and discovery that Luke turned traitor.

Maybe, if the Disney show makes it that far, we’ll get to see those missed opportunities on screen. But you do start the book feeling like there was a chapter left on the cutting room floor.

Doubly so, they spent at least a couple months together before chapter one, enough to build a rapport and make a confident team together, and yet Percy somehow has never seen Thalia manipulate the Mist before.

Sixteen years later and it is buckwild even seeing Nico’s name dropped for the first time nine pages in. He’s not even in the book for more than the first couple chapters and right at the end for the big reveal. He was nobody’s favorite leading all the way up to House of Hades four whole ass books from now, just an eager little kid, then a bratty little goth wannabe, then an angsty goth wannabe.

Getting flung back to lil’ wide-eyed and bushy tailed 10-year old Nico is sobering. He was such a little nerd with his Mythomagic figurines and cards and dumb, dorky 10-year-old questions.

**Side note - in my SoM I falsely recalled that the Grover empathy link never made a reappearance and I am pleasantly surprised that it does get mentions here, even if it doesn’t do much.**

—

The opening fight, while thrilling, is held back a little by Percy’s continued ignorance. He’s fourteen, he’s been at this for two years now, and he’s still the last to find things out (for the benefit of the audience). Before, it made sense, he was young and inexperienced, but if he’s out here leading raids and rescue parties, he’s got no excuses to not be doing his homework and I wish Riordan had come up with a different method of getting exposition to the audience this time around.

Immediately after, enter the Hunters’ blatant sexism and I’m left scratching my head on why I remember liking this book so much. It’s off to a rather rocky start.

It’s not so much that Artemis leads a club of eternal tweenage virgins. The Hunters are a sanctuary alternative to Camp Half-Blood and it has its pros and cons. My problem, especially as I’m older reading this, is that Artemis gets Bianca murdered promising her a break from her horrible, no good, very bad baby brother, and there’s no reckoning for that.

There’s no alternative to her statement of only being patron to girls “before they go astray” like the moment puberty hits Artemis kicks these hedonistic sinners to the curb. Thalia sure hates them and calls it stupid (before joining them in the end) and Percy makes his opinions on Bianca’s selfishness clear, but beyond a reluctant approval of Percy after he almost dies holding up the sky, there is no “yeah our club isn’t actually as awesome as us snooty girls think it is”. Artemis is still a good guy, so are the hunters, and their ideology is never challenged.

Bianca dies! She’d still be alive if Artemis hadn’t been a predatory patron, snatching her up in a moment of weakness and ripping her little brother’s only family away because, by nature of being a boy, he sucks.

In other words, she doesn’t get to be painted as a decent goddess when she’s no better than Hera and Zeus with her strawmanning. Especially when Apollo and, heck, Dionysus, show so much more humanity in this book.

Artemis is just so hard on the poor kid and thank the gods Percy didn’t die before he could save Nico from himself. Nico would have absolutely joined Luke and burned Olympus to the ground without Percy’s intervention, and it would have been Artemis’ fault. “Yes, boy. You see, Bianca di Angelo is not the only one with an annoying brother.” My good bitch, who do you think you are? He’s 10!

It is abundantly clear why the Nico di Angelo Protection Squad found such strong footing. The whole nexus of this series is the gods’ neglect and the first 70 pages of this book are a stellar example of what Luke’s been yammering about this whole time.

—

As always, the foreshadowing and subtle reminders are solid. Tyson’s throwaway line about the Princess Andromeda heading toward the Panama Canal so it can eventually reach the West Coast, the reminder of the dragon that scarred Luke’s face via souvenir claw in the Big House attic. The reminder that Percy’s sword Riptide has a tragic past and all the hints that Bianca and Nico are children out of time as they suddenly remember forgotten details from their past and Bianca’s lucky strike on the skeletons.

Oh, and this poignant little nugget from the souvenir pile in the attic, a tag attached to a broken sword hilt: “This broke and Leroy got killed, 1999.” I can picture Leroy’s surviving friends staring at that broken weapon and having nothing more to say than that, and abandoning it to collect dust in the attic.

Percy is still rife with realistic, humanizing flaws. He’s jealous of Thalia and suffering an inferiority complex, mucking up the di Angelo rescue mission thinking he can do it on his own, and then the capture the flag game, and then going off on his own during the second quest that’s not about him. His rivalry with Thalia, the only demigod that can go toe-to-toe with him in terms of abilities, is something fresh for this book. Thalia’s like a less obnoxious Annabeth because she doesn’t suffer that Athenian hubris making her a know-it-all.

—

Bianca fits right in with the Hunters, not missing her little brother one bit (stone cold, girl. Stone. Cold.) Acting like a sudden expert at the Ping Pong table counselor meeting. I know she’s been groomed by a selfish misandrist but she’s not long for this book and it has done nothing to endear audiences to her.

She gets worse when she has her first minute alone with Percy and he reassures her that abandoning her baby brother is perfectly fine so long as she’s happy when… no? Percy took like, two weeks to come to terms with being a demigod and an entire quest. Bianca takes two days and she’s rearing up to go on a quest to save her cult leader.

She explains that she’s raised Nico all her life and wanted to experience something outside of caring for him, even though she knows it’s selfish of her to just up and abandon him, his feelings be damned. Thing is, it is selfish. I feel zero sympathy for this girl and I doubt she fully understands what she signed up for. She will be twelve forever and Nico will, theoretically, grow up, grow old, and see her only a handful of times in their lives before he’s dead. All because he’s a bit irritating at his age and she wants a vacation.

When she dies not long after, the point of her character even existing beyond being Nico’s motivation gets a bit muddied. Artemis and the Hunters aren’t punished by the narrative for getting her killed, she doesn’t die doing anything spectacular and she wakes the very monster that kills her trying to get a trinket for Nico, then she’s dead.

Trying to be independent set her on the path to dying young, feeling guilty about abandoning the only family she had left is what sealed the deal.

—

The original cover art! The ‘07 American version with Percy and Blackjack in indigo. TLT’s art didn’t pull from any one specific scene and SoM was more inspired by the rope bridge with Polyphemus on the sheep island, but TTC’s art is ripped straight from the page and I love how it has both nothing to do with the title of the book and is totally out of left field concerning Dionysus (and I think the best moment of the book).

The scene in question is Dionysus interrupting Percy and Blackjack’s pursuit of the questers in Manhattan, showing more agency in that moment than he had in the past two books. He tells Percy about Ariadne and why he hates heroes (because they’re selfish) alluding to why Zoë hates heroes. Percy has been quite self-important in this book, but he's no Theseus, not even close.

The settings in this book aren’t nearly as colorful as the previous two, and the same goes for the monsters along the way. It’s winter and it feels like it, in more ways than one. There’s human mercenaries, the grey skeletal soldiers, the Nemean lion that doesn’t talk, Talos that doesn’t talk, and a few other oddballs.

The junkyard of the gods where they fight Talos has wonderfully creepy and foreboding vibes. Things that get thrown away there are abandoned for a reason.

All the quirky sense of adventure that existed before is gone this time around and while I enjoy the tonal shift personally, I don’t know that it was the best choice to make for the series as a whole. The lack of “color” is made worse by all the other irritating and frustrating elements.

The best elements remain the most off-beat ones, like Apollo in incognito mode, the Dam snack bar, everything I remembered from reading this as a kid, along with Dionysus’ moments and Dr. Chase.

TTC’s prophecy is solid, and since we get it at the beginning this time, we get to wrack our brains trying to solve it along with the cast. It’s not as ambiguous as TLT’s prophecy, but I like the cadence, how long it is, and how ominous it is – right off the bat, you know two people are dead this book.

Five shall go west to the goddess in chains,

One shall be lost in the land without rain,

The bane of Olympus shows the trail,

Campers and Hunters combined prevail,

The Titan’s Curse must one withstand,

And one shall perish by a parent’s hand.

—

Zoë is… frustrating. I hate to go all “not all men” but jeez, girl, not all men. She even says those exact words herself as she’s dying. So much bitterness and resentment in her long life. Why couldn’t Artemis be a good patron of immortal tweenagers and find them a decent therapist? I’m lumping her in with Artemis for their antiquated and frankly ridiculous pontificating. I get that’s Artemis’ schtick; doesn’t make it fun or interesting to read.

Zoë is a victim of godly propaganda and her death is as tragic as Bianca’s, the fate of heroes little more than divine chess pieces tossed aside at a whim. Her memorial as the new constellation is poignant, it just unfortunately was given to a character more frustrating than endearing. Her whole arc in this book is appreciating that not all heroes are awful thanks to Percy, but she struts around like her sh*t doesn’t smell.

Zoë hates heroes because Hercules did her dirty, Thalia hinted that Annabeh considered joining the Hunters because of Percy, and Dionysus told Percy he’d never stop being selfish and self-centered and the thing is he’s… not?

Yes he messes up at the start of this book but they’re kind of strawmanning him, like by nature of being a boy and being a Greek demigod he’s doomed to be exactly like his predecessors when he’s shown no indication so far of using and abusing people. His fatal flaw is loyalty. Annabeth was never going to be his Ariadne.

—

The villains plan here is solid, Riordan has a good track record of walking the line between complex and contrived. They needed Artemis to hold the sky to get her away from the Solstice meeting so the gods wouldn’t be productive. To get Artemis, they made do with using Annabeth as bait. Then they needed Bessie and an illegal prophecy child (Thalia, the oldest) to trigger the prophecy two books early. It almost works, until Thalia dips out of turning 16 by becoming an immortal fifteen-year-old at the last possible second.

The villains also use mortals this time, and mortal weaponry – guns and helicopters and mortal mercenaries. They don’t do much, none of them even get named, but they exist and they help make this book a little grittier.

—

Despite all the above complaints, the book doesn’t fall to middle-chapter syndrome. The story is fast paced and gritter than the two before it, the battles are all well written and unique. It’s not a bad story by any means, it just has some frustrating elements that dampen the enjoyment. The slower beats aren’t between Percy and Annabeth this time and Grover spends a lot of the book mooney-eyed over the moon goddess so he and Percy don’t get a lot of solid moments either. Thalia is too prickly to let her guard down long enough for a deep conversation but she almost gets there.

Major characters die this time and the approaching war feels that much closer, delayed for now but still looming ever over our heroes. I do like the characterization of the gods this time around being much more involved in the story. When Percy and Annabeth do finally reunite, matching grey streaks in their hair, it's cute and fluffy and a great way to wrap up the story before the Nico reveal, and what a reveal it is. It's not Thalia, unambiguously older, it's Nico, definitively younger leaving you antsy that, still, Percy might not be the prophecy kid after all.

[darkenforcer]

he's powerless, utterly helpless as the white-hot anger sputters into something he's far less equipped to handle. it's pure instinct that leads his fingers through russet hair, cradling the gasping, selfless mess of a man. where there's no fabric to hold, he instead presses against his lower back, bringing him closer in what he can only hope is a comfort.

it's a good thing dar can't see him, he thinks, as silent tears of his own begin to fall. the broken, overdue 'i'm sorry' stabs into his lungs; its repetition twisting the blade deeper, to the hilt, hurting worse than anything dam-bi's attacks could've inflicted. once again, it's difficult for breaths to remain steady. it's difficult to do much of anything aside from stare at the wall ahead.

"stop." the eventual reprimand is curt, choked, as yuri digs his wet cheek into the man's unkempt strands.

"calling me a bastard for going too far? who's the hypocrite now?" it's disjointed, accompanied by an almost bitter, unfitting laugh, "i couldn't think straight after dam-bi broke the news. of course i knew--" there's a dip he hadn't anticipated, "i knew you'd come back, but what if?"

and it's all because he never learns, does he?

"i can't lose another person to my own bullshit mistakes. i just can't." if shaking arms could draw the miqo'te any closer, they would, "not you."

the two men are often pillars-- supporting others, carrying what they shouldn't have to. but how long can pillars last once their foundations begin to shake? when they've nothing to lean on besides each other? what happens then?

yuri's legs buckle (it's a miracle they've held this long) and the miqo'te's brought down with him. even then, his first impulse is to bring him to his shoulder once more, determined to hold his partner's splintered cracks in place.

they're cracks formed from regret that shouldn't even exist. yuri knows why he'd lost control during that fight, and it's his own failure lying at the source; it had taken loss to understand the depth of his affection and the lengths he'd go (gone) for it. it's a phrase mired with guilt, but it chews him up from the inside, crawls up his throat and threatens to escape, to let itself be heard because -- god -- when will it ever be, if not now?

it's the reason any of this matters as much as it does! every moment he spends dragging his feet -- holding his tongue where words are needed most -- he'll never be the person dar'khol deserves.

"don't you get it? i did it because i..." it lodges in his throat; rattles him, "i care about you so much it hurts."

ugh, come on--! rampaging heart screaming in protest, the flicker of stubborn irritation is all the steel he needs to blurt, "for fuck's sake-- i love you, dar."

when he exhales next, it's a low tremor, "i'd do it again-- i'd follow you to hell just to drag your sorry ass back out with me. so, please, just... stop apologizing...!" (i don't deserve it)

ears twitch with yuri's outburst, stomach twisting with every word, accompanying the persisting ache of a straining heartbeat. like a bruise struck repeatedly; over and over, the pain never allowed to wither. his boiling temper assisted it none. worsened it, even.

he gulps passed the want to interject, expression unwavering aside from a fang being pressed against his lower lip. anything to keep the damned thing from quivering, the tears were bad enough. everything sounded like some half-assed excuse like this. didn't know her, wasn't suppose to reach her -- problems that could have easily been rectified had he been informed about any of it!

... no, that wasn't entirely true and he knew it.

dar'khol still would have gotten himself involved, he'd have still tried to set things right regardless of what he was told. his hesitation would have, perhaps, been far greater, but would that truly have made much of a difference? would he have held back just enough to not have stupidly kept himself conscious for those few, last, agonizing seconds?

"... a chance she likely gave you, too, right?" where he could have easily lashed back, he instead opted to question. voice having lowered from its previous volume, closer to a softened murmur; desperately wishing to mask how his own voice wavered.

"i won't say i saw it comin', but i knew the possibility was there. of course i did. but if there was a chance, no matter how slim it might have been, i had to...!" an inhale, a shakier exhale. slowly, dar'khol allows his head to lower, bangs a makeshift curtain to attempt to hide what was already visible. the damn tremble in his lips, his hands. the heat that traversed down his cheek and dripped from his chin. "i'd rather meet my end tryin' than runnin' off with my tail between my legs! fuck, i already have before...!"

died, that is.

making a stand against a threat greater than himself, attempting to save others without regard for his own well being. was brought back by a higher power, then, too. allowing him to finish the job. but that luck didn't carry over here, he was no chosen champion on this blasted island... kept acting like one though, didn't he?

kept squeezing into a role he told himself he hated, time and again.

"why in the seven hells' are you allowed to play lone wolf in an attempt to save others, but i'm the fool for doin' what i can when left alone?" yuri was already shouldering the blame, already admitted his mistake. it didn't ease the hurt left behind from it. "some safety you bloody well managed--" but the words are forced, choked out through a sound he wished he could bite back a little longer.

the miqo'te's head falls forward, hiding away against a vacant shoulder as his unsteady grip shifts. shaky palms press against the swordsman's back, fingertips curling to hook himself in place and hold; hold as though reality itself would slip away should he dare to let go.

"i'll have you, and you'll have me... that was the deal, yuri." voice muffled against a wettened shoulder, "that doesn't mean followin' me to the grave, you bastard....!"

he really couldn't stay mad, could he? no matter how justifiable some of his complaints may be, they hardly seemed worth the effort at the moment. all that time in-between his own revival spent worrying, trying to mask it with a hope that all would be well; that he was merely overthinking the outcome, that he'd have been the only one to have paid such a grave price.

stupid, he's just as stupid.

"i'm sorry," those words teeter on a cracked chord, whatever shred of irritation he'd previously been clinging to to keep himself together finally snapping under the strain. they were an echo of what he had wanted to say before, just before the world had gone black.

a gasp rattles him next, an audible cue before finally letting himself crumble.

"i'm so sorry." ( i should have been there for you, too )

[chubbology]

The Munchies

prompt: a stoner feedee's girlfriend uses him to test out new edibles and deals with his munchies

Remmy returned home from visiting relatives on the last day of December, and he was very glad to be back. They’d fed him well and his pants were tight, but all the small talk and bad vibes had been as much of a drag as usual.

He opened the door to his apartment and breathed in a familiar, potent scent.

“Baby!” Brianna ran from the kitchen and tackled him.

“Happy almost New Year! Wanna hear my resolution? Baking and getting baked. Check it out.”

She brought him over to the counter, where she was almost done filling up three containers of what Remmy had no doubt were various edibles. He ignored the kitchen mess.

“I’m liking what I see,” Remmy laughed.

She preened and then pinched his love handle. “I bet you do."

"These aren’t your typical brownies, though," she said. "This is gourmet.” She kissed her fingertips in a muah.

The first container was full of moist shortbread, the second with a kind of apple crumble dish that looked divine. Last but not least, the third had a jumble of what like peanut butter cups.

“Try something!” Brianna gushed. She seemed to be a little floaty already. “You’re gonna be my new taste tester. I think I could really be good at this. Make some cash, too.”

So Remmy tried one of the peanut butter cups. His eyes widened, and he smiled. “Bri, these are incredible.” He ate another.

“Take it easy. Two should get you stoned. So says the recipe anyway.” Brianna rubbed his pudgy forearm as he eyed the rest in the container, biting the inside of his lip. “Hey. If you’re just hungry, I can fix that. You wanna eat?”

“I’m starving,” Remmy said. A lie, since he’d had a big lunch before driving back. But he could eat.

“Okay, I’ll get you something! Pay day was Monday. Let’s splurge. What do you want?”

McDonalds, Remmy’s mind supplied easily, in an almost salacious tone. His relatives thought they were too good for McDonalds, and now his body thrummed with the desire to just get a truckload of those greasy combos and revel in the guilt and satisfaction of eating every last unhealthy bite.

Then again. Brianna probably wasn’t okay to drive right now, he didn’t feel like getting back in the car, and the scale told him he’d hit 240 recently, “Let’s just order in.”

“Sounds good to me.”

That night, as they ignored the idiots on television bringing in the New Year, the two of them picked at the apple crumble - which tasted as brilliant as Remmy had suspected - and lounged around, enjoying their high. Brianna barely touched her Chinese takeout, and Remmy ate all of his. Then hers. Then he started grazing the kitchen for more food.

Over the course of the next week, the two of them finished off the rest of what she made, plus some more recipes that turned out delicious. Brianna got a pleasant high every time, and Remmy enjoyed the edibles, too, although his experience was slightly different. It was just—

He just—

He got hungry. Munchies but on unholy overdrive. Cranked to eleven and a half. With every high, Remmy became a little more overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food he felt compelled to pack away, savory and sweet. Takeout and fast food and quarts of ice cream. Nuts and fruits, too. Jar of peanut butter here. Tub of icing there. He’d never been very active, so it came as no surprise when his clothes began stretching over his chest and belly and thighs and ass. He popped a button getting dressed one morning and couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the day. He hadn’t realized it would happen so quickly, his body converting all the calories into flab. Flab that padded him out chubbier than he already was, and then more on top of that. In the mirror, he started to look big.

Brianna seemed unfazed by her boyfriend’s growing girth. She took to her baking resolution with as much gusto as she did anything that interested her, and even into March, April, and May, she was selling the edibles well and raked in money that almost made her day job obsolete. Remmy was constantly praised for being “the bestest taste tester ever” and enjoyed a steady stream of free highs to balance out the lows of spending most of his time working his IT job from home.

Working, gaming, watching old movies. Remmy already stayed sitting most of the day, but as he gained weight, gained a lot, filling out his desk chair to its limits, crumbs becoming his constant companion, he felt even less like standing up. His weight climbed to 280, 290, 300.

June, July, and August passed uneventfully, and pretty happily, too. Brianna stopped asking him what food he wanted from the grocery store and just bought him things. Bought him things she knew he’d eat when he got high, things that made his ass spread wider on the couch, his arms round out like sausages, his pudgy chest start to really droop. The scale said 320, 330, 340.

Remmy gave up trying to gain control of the new appetite Brianna’s heavenly edibles seemed to install in him irrevocably. When he craved, he ate, and he ate. And like a dam breaking, his body surged with so much excess fat he began spilling out of even his newest clothes.

He was a little ashamed, sure. But quite a few of his relatives were fat, so they couldn't talk, and it felt like sweet revenge to embarrass his irritating parents by becoming so overweight. As for everyday life, well, he just moved around from room to room slower, wore the same stretchy clothes a lot, and that was it. Remmy did mention his weight in passing sometimes to gauge Brianna’s feelings about it, but Brianna only ever giggled, called him cute, and passed him her venti sugary monstrosity of a coffee concoction, which he thoughtlessly sucked down to the dregs, ingesting a thousand-plus calories just like that. This made her eyes sparkle, huge and utterly endeared.

“Like a piggy,” she said, thumbing his fat cheek. “Always willing to eat.”

In bed, she made it clear she liked him the way he was, and was becoming. And it wasn’t long before Remmy realized he was into how big he was becoming, too.

They continued like this. Getting high together and watching movies and making out and snacking. Well, Brianna snacked. Remmy feasted. Gorged himself, to put it precisely, with Brianna’s enthusiastic help. “You look good soft,” she’d tell him, playing with belly fat that his stretchiest t-shirts couldn’t cover anymore.

Remmy would swallow another bite of a snickers and spread his huge thighs a little, with effort. “You call it soft, but I’m the one who gets tired moving from the office to the kitchen.” I’m so heavy, he wanted to say. God, I’m so heavy.

“Just move your computer to the kitchen then,” she said. “Duh.”

It was a seed planted that came to fruition a month later - when Remmy’s food cravings became unmanageable and his weight climbed past 360 - that he felt he would simply be more productive during his day job if his breaks to get food from the kitchen were shorter.

By November, whether he was high or not, Remmy was grazing all day, everyday. What Brianna got from the store became insufficient, and he started a habit of ordering take out most days. In big portions. His scale creaked at 375. When Brianna wasn’t home, he sometimes ate takeout on the scale to see if the number would rise.

On Remmy’s birthday in early December, Brianna made a fresh batch of his favorites again: the peanut butter cup edibles. After ordering pizza for delivery, she got in the shower, and Remmy scarfed down three of the big cups as soon as they cooled. Then he waited, leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, belly hanging, feet hurting. He didn’t want to go to the effort of sitting on the couch and getting back up again when he could just stay in the kitchen, where he knew he’d end up anyway.

He scratched his supple underbelly. Found a pack of Twizzlers and started eating those.

Soon enough, his breathing slowed as he felt the high slowly come over him. And, as expected, his whole body immediately began to tingle for satiation. Fattening food sung to him from the pantry and fridge and freezer all at once, and it was all going to make him so huge and heavy he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own wide feet, but he wanted it anyway.

He didn’t care if he was pushing 390 now. He’d blown up, yeah. Inflated from a thick guy to obese and waddling. At this point, he was so pumped so big with blubber that he couldn’t twitch without jiggling, but so what? He was hungry. Being high made him want to consume, and so he did. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

Remmy opened the fridge and took out his birthday cake, which Brianna must have stuck in there after getting home from work. He couldn’t wait to eat it properly. There was no way he could wait until after the pizza came. Besides, it was his birthday. Remmy took off the plastic lid of the round, triple chocolate cake and felt his nerves light up with anticipation. He was going to eat it all, and there was no stopping him.

He found a knife and cut himself a slice three times the size any reasonable person would take. Desperate to get the goodness into his mouth without delay, he skipped a fork and bit right into the gooey, dense cake and mouse and fudge. God, Brianna was so perfect for getting him the unhealthiest cake imaginable. She knew he didn’t care if he was ten pounds heavier tomorrow, if his fat ass ripped his sweatpants open, if he ate so much he couldn’t haul himself to bed—she knew he needed this.

He ate slice after slice, and it was mostly gone when Brianna got out of the shower, looking sexier than usual in her matching purple lingerie. She’d gotten chubbier with so much junk food in the apartment, and fat clung to her in all the right places. But her pudge was a far cry from his angry-red stretch marks and neck rolls. Hell, his moobs had grown bigger than her tits.

She found him in the kitchen, eating and holding his drooping belly, and she rubbed his back, cooing at him when he apologized.

“It’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t be able to wait all night. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Remmy said, but all he could think about was getting his next bite. As she watched him, he tried to hold out. Tried to prove he could stop eating for two seconds. Three seconds, four - his resolve broke and he crammed the rest of a slice into his mouth and chewed, choking back a moan.

“You get the munchies so bad, don’t you?” Brianna grinned and leaned against his belly, patting and cupping his weighty breasts in the way she knew pleased him. “Let’s get you sat down. I’ll bring you what you need. Just sit and relax and watch whatever you want.” They moved to the couch and Remmy sat, the cushions wheezing, his thighs and belly quivering. Brianna tucked the remainder of the cake into his pudgy hands. “Don’t worry about a mess. It’s your birthday. And there’s more where that came from.” She winked. “I just needed to keep this cake refrigerated because it’s fancy. There’s a whole sheet cake on top of the fridge that’s cheap and huge. Covered in icing. Perfect for munchies.”

Remmy could only feel a wave of relief at this news. There would be more cake. And after that, there’d still be more junk in the cabinets. There was pizza coming. His high was just right. Brianna turned on the television to his favorite show and he settled further back into the cushions, feeling his second chin swell out and engulf his first. Everything was just right. He was lucky to have Brianna and food. So much food.

A year later, around the same time, Remmy skipped his usual trip to see his relatives for the holidays. At 520 pounds, it was simply too much effort to move.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[wiypt-writes]

Guilty As Charged

Guilty As Charged: Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Defence Attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the absolute bane of your life…

Pairing: Lawyer AU Bucky Barnes x Reader (Frenemies!)

Warnings: Bad language words.

Word Count- Under 2k

A/N:  This was originally posted on my old blog ages ago, but I’ve just given it a little polish and thought, seeing as I’m on the Bucky Train at the moment, I’d bring it back. Also, my knowledge on US Criminal Law is sketchy at best, so humour me…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist // Main Masterlist

*******

In God We Trust, the words set about the Judge’s podium were fixed in your vision, motes of dust moving freely in the rays of sunlight which were streaming through the large, ornate windows of the court room and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, concentrating on expelling the nerves you were feeling with the air that left your mouth and lungs.

No matter how many times you were in this position, the reading of the verdict still got to you. Your gaze turned to the jury, as the judge did the same, that all important question ringing across the room, the air stiflingly tense.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant or not guilty"

“Not guilty.”

Fuck.

Cheers from the defendants family drowned out your loud groan as you rubbed at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shook your head in utter disbelief.

The judge continued through the remaining charges, second-degree murder and voluntary manslaughter, and your despair grew as the same verdict was returned for each.

You’d lost. And it stung, not merely because of your near perfect conviction rate, but for the family of the victim you were one-hundred percent convinced the accused.

"Y/N this wasn't your fault.” Sam stated in a low voice but you simply sighed again and shrugged.

"I was sure they'd see through his lies,” you glanced over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes and Rogers Law firm were shaking hand with each other and their defendant. Barnes' face was arranged in the usual smug look that you always had the urge to slap right off it. His partner, Steve, glanced over at you and gave you a genuine, sympathetic smile.

He’s always the most courteous out of the two, the one you actually didn’t mind dealing with when it came to cases.

"He fucking did it Y/N," Sam's voice was almost a growl, "I know he did."

"Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t." You stated, standing up.

The commotion continued behind you, as the defendant was told he was free to go. Making sure to keep your head down, you hastily shuffled your papers back into their respective files and packed your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrugged it on, smoothing down pencil skirt before you head to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you're not quite fast enough. "Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can't win em all." The familiar Brooklyn drawl hit your ears.

"Buck," Steve sighed "c'mon pal..."

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn't rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass in the courtroom. Spinning to face him, you shot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and looked at him like he was something you'd just trodden in.

"You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat." "Defeat?” He asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face, “no, not sure what that is." "Eat shit.” You mumbled before turning to Sam who was stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continued up the aisle towards the exit. The victim's family were congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

"How did that happen?"

"You said it was a cert he would go down!”

"What about a private prosecution?”

You sighed and turn to look at them, you were exhausted. "I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “That new evidence that his attorney submitted, it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind..." you held your hand up to gently silence them. “If you're serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss and put you in touch with a few people but I’m sorry, as far as the State’s involvement goes…I can’t do anymore."

Escaping as quickly as you could, you and Sam headed back to your office. After a short meeting with your boss, the District Attorney, who was as pissed as you were that the prosecution had failed, you emerged feeling twice as tired and battered as you had when you’d left the courtroom.

As Sam stated, there was only one thing left you could do. Drink alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

It was a short walk to your preferred bar, having decided to abandon your car and collect it in the morning. You were going to get drunk. Really drunk. "Hey Y/N, hey Sam." Clint, the bar tender greeted you. “I hear it wasn't a great day.” You looked up and saw he was pointing to the TV behind the bar. It was on a news channel, focussing on a report from earlier that afternoon which wasn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but somehow, the new evidence submitted was an alleged recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. If you were being totally honest, you had to admit that it didn't sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant, but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming.

But all it needed was that little seed of doubt, which the defence sowed expertly, and the jury couldn't convict. And now, thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer was walking free. As you stared at the television, you saw Barnes on the screen with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greeted the press with a raised hand. "Clint turn it over man." Sam almost pleaded and Clint shot you both a sympathetic look, before he pointed the remote at and flicked the report over to a mundane, late afternoon game show. You ordered 2 beers, and then settled at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam began to dissect the case. You couldn’t help it, you always did this, analyse where you went wrong or right.

The pair of you got that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it, it was an hour lager and you're now four beers deep... and Sam was fielding an angry phone call from his wife, Natasha. "I gotta go, boss." He sighed, apologetically, “it’s my little girl’s dance recital at six and if I miss this one, Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!” You waved his explanation off. “Its fine, Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow. That case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch. Clint, gimme a bourbon please?" "Don't let Barnes get to you.” Sam sighed. “You know what he is like" "Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nodded. “Yup, I got it.” Sam smiled and dropped a friendly kiss to your cheek. "See you later." Clint slid the glass of bourbon over to you and you smiled before pulling out your phone to check a few emails and your social media. You were just reading through an article about a Billionaire in Manhattan who had designed some kind of metal suit that allowed him to fly (because that's gonna end well), when a familiar voice broke your concentration. "Can I buy you a drink?" You rolled your eyes and looked up at Bucky Barnes as he leaned on the bar, still in his suit, although he had dispensed of his black and white tie, and opened his top button. This was another thing you hated about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties.

And he fucking knows it, too. "Depends." You shrugged, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon. "Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?" He chuckled. "I'm off duty, Doll so no."

"In that case I'll have another Monkey Shoulder." You slid the empty glass back to Clint. "Take it you're not driving home?" Barnes asked, his azure eyes running over your bare legs. "Well if I do and I get caught, I'm sure you can get me off any charges.” You replied sharply, shooting him a look that made it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn't the first time either. That's another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barked out a laugh "You're really not happy with me are you?" "Not particularly." You shook your head, thanking Clint as he pushed the now full glass back to you, with a small wink. It's a double, you noticed. That should set Barnes back a bit. Bucky reached for his beer and after a pull he looked directly at you. "Come work for me." He said and you groaned.

Not this again. "I'm a prosecutor." You rolled your eyes. "Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before, and the time before that." "I'm nothing if not persistent." He winked, turning in his stool so he was facing you. "Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side." "You’d love that wouldn't you?" You snort. "Oh, Sweetheart you have no idea." He leaned forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that was showing above the buttons on your blouse. "My face is up here, ass hole." With a smirk he raised his deep, blue eyes and they locked onto yours. Despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. "Why are you always this insufferable?" You eventually tore your gaze away from his and picked up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. "Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that." He reached out to squeeze your hand which was resting on the back of the tall chair you were sat in. "We could make a great team..." You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Professionally.” He added, his eyes not leaving yours as he took another large drink of his beer, and you pulled your hand away from under his. "I'd kill you within five minutes of us being in the same office." You glared at him as you took another sip from your drink. He chuckled and eyed you again, “to be fair I'm not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity. He still flusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy.” "That's because Steve is a happily married man." "So am I." He shot back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… "Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you." You said into your glass. "I have other hidden qualities which mean she's prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits." He quipped, and you looked back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. "They must be very hidden." You mused, and he let out another loud laugh.   "You're killing me, Doll.” "Good." You drained your glass. The liquid burnt your throat and you could feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain started to hum. You looked at Barnes who was watching you, his eyes shining with all the cheekiness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid.

Like snogging his dumb, handsome face off. "I think it's time I got going." You said simply, standing up. Barnes gave a nod, draining his bottle. “Yeah I should be making tracks too. Wife to see to, you know how it is.” You stood and he did the same, and you realised he was holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your face as you turned and allowed him to help you into it. His hands dropped to your shoulders and he span you round gently and smiled with those perfect teeth, a smile that lit up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Lead the way Mrs Barnes.” He instructed softly, dropping a tender kiss to your lips. "You know it's a good job I love you,” you smiled, sliding your arms up round his neck. "Yeah, I know." "Although right now I'm struggling to remember why." "Well, when we get home I'll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities I was talking about, see if they help jog your memory.” You bit your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flit across his eyes, and you leant up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. "Unanimous verdict,” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirked again, “guilty as charged.” You tossed Clint a good bye, linked your hand into your husband’s and he walked you outside into the brisk wind, his arm pulling you close, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes might be an insufferable, arrogant ass hole in the courtroom, but outside it he's simply your Bucky.

[cherryblossom-chopper]

pt. 3 for shanks dating luffys older sister? 😏

Ahhh! You have returned! I was wondering if anyone would require more 😈

-Shanks and (Name) continue to have these little meet-cutes for a while. It's made of banter with flirtatious undertones, and it's insufferable.

-By the time the dam finally breaks, the entire island is tired of their shit. Mama Dadan is possibly the most annoyed. She can't stand (Name) 's wishy-washy feelings about Shanks.

-Either ya' like him or you don't (Name). Grow yourself a pair of tits and make a choice.

-Dadan deals out her affection via tough love and snide comments for all her children, even for her daughter.

-Ace and Sabo are also irritated by the flirting. The two older boys can tell something is going on between them, and neither of the boys like it. They don't trust Shanks. He disappears for weeks, sometimes months at a time, doing only the Gods know what. The way Ace and Sabo see things, Shanks isn't a good man for their sister.

-Luffy is too young to understand why Ace and Sabo don't like Shanks. Luffy thinks Shanks is the coolest and wants to see him whenever he's in town. (Name) may or may not uses Luffy as an excuse to see Shanks. She obviously can't just let a little boy roam around in town by himself, and if they happen to see Shanks, it's a happy accident.

-Shanks has a lot of complicated feelings about (Name). On the one hand, she's exactly his type. She's someone who's not afraid to stand up to him and is fireclay loyal. But on the other hand, he feels really guilty about their relationship for two main reasons.

-Firstly, (Name) is taking care of three young boys. He wouldn't feel right asking her to run away with him because of ASL. Though he does try to reason ways around this, by saying that Dadan could still care for them or that the boys aren't that young. Luffy, the youngest, is seven so Sabo and Ace could certainly take care of themselves.

-Secondly and possibly more pressing, is that while he's at sea, Shanks has had a fling or two. I mean, he and (Name) are not dating, so why does it matter if he's chasing skirts. That's what he tries to tell himself anyway.

-Shanks eventually becomes so painfully in love with her that he remains in Fusha Village far longer than he should. Shanks begins actively seeking (Name) out because he has to tell her the truth, but he chickens out every time he has the chance.

-After staying on Dawn Island for over a month, Benn puts his foot down and insists they get back to sea. They're the Red-Haired Pirates, damn it, and their Red-Haired Captain has done nothing but pine over a woman who can't even confess to.

-Benn further insists that they stay away from Dawn Island for a while to break Shanks out of this phase.

-Shanks is devastated, but his crew all agreed that it was time to go. So, they make preparations to leave Dawn Island and Shanks kind of gets into a "do or die" mood. He is determined to tell (Name) about his feelings before he doesn't have the chance to.

-He finds her in town by herself for once. Usually, she's shadowing three scruffy children, but on this day, she is alone. Shanks feels sick looking at her, but it was now or never.

-She and Shanks chat for a minute before he asks her to walk with him. With a sweet smile, she agrees. They walk for a while, and they talk freely to one another. Then she says it. You've been on land for a while this time. Is there a reason why?

-It's two sentences, but it's enough to crack the ice. Words practically fall out of Shanks' mouth. He tells (Name) everything. He nearly vomits out his guilt and his sins. Shanks chokes when he has to say to her he won't be returning to Fusha Village. Not for a long while.

-When he's done, (Name) can only look at him, her mouth agape. They stare at one another for a long silent moment. He rubs his face and offers his hand to (Name).

-I want you to be my lover, (Name). Please, won't you join my crew?

[yoontaethings]

normal kind of love — jjk (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader 

rating: explicit

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a lot of cussing and some teasing if you squint, but other than that none really (the warnings will come next chapter lmao)

you’re one half of hollywood’s on-screen it couple. the greatest chemistry known on-screen with the one and only, jeon jungkook, the bane of your existence.

a/n: this was supposed to be a longer chapter but i decided to split it in half to tease potential readers mwahaha btw this chapter is very very unedited, though i did postpone the upload because i had to remove some parts because i just thought the story didn’t need those bits anymore lol but the rest of this story i haven’t even read through yet, i just wrote and wrote and wrote so please excuse any errors (my tenses might also not be consistent but i’ll edit this soon)

taglist: @min-nicoleee @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @kokoandkookie @somelazysundays

There was no way.

There was no way in hell they were pairing you up with him. Again.

You were confirmed to be cast as the female lead in the movie before any other characters were casted. They should have chosen a different male lead for this romance film. Heck, even Kim Taehyung, a friend of yours, received an offer for the role and you were certain he planned to take it. Unfortunately for you, even if Taehyung wanted the role, he couldn’t accept it because of scheduling conflict with another film he’s already working on.

Jeon Jungkook, an actor you starred alongside in “Dangerous Illusion”, was just confirmed as the male lead of your upcoming movie “Chosen for Pleasure”. The same man who seemed to make it his life goal to ruin you. After Jungkook was confirmed to play the male lead in your upcoming movie, fans on Twitter have been blowing up about it and made you two a trending topic worldwide. Elated fans mentioned you in their tweets expressing how happy they were to see you two again together. You wish you could say you felt the same.

The previous movie you worked on was a thriller/mystery. You played the part of Jungkook's wife in the film. The film was a blockbuster hit, as a result of the well-thought storyline, yet additionally because of its leads. Fans adored the chemistry between you and Jungkook, regardless of not having a lot of romantic scenes in the film. There were a lot of fans who wanted to see you two on-screen once more, this time, in a romance focused film. Looks like their wishes were coming true.

To add insult to injury, your impending film was going to be an adult romance. It required some steamy scenes that normally didn't trouble you because you were a true professional, yet absolutely irritates you now since you need to do them with Jeon Jungkook.

The script reading was to be done today and your eyes opened an hour later than the time you set for your alarm because of the fucking snooze button. Seriously, why were snooze buttons even invented? They just allowed people to sleep through their alarms continuously.

Hand reaching for the phone on your nightstand, you knocked over a booklet that was over it. It was the script you spent hours reading to grab a sense of the character you were going to portray. Obviously, you already knew the basics about the part you were going to play, but knowing the entire story helped in portraying your character.

Your eyes squinted at the bright light of your phone that had the numbers 8:33 glaring at you, unlocking it to see a couple of texts and missed calls from your manager.

‘Are you awake yet?’

‘Please don’t tell me you forgot about the script reading today’

‘Ok I know you’re still asleep but just make sure you get ready on time, being late won’t do you and your image any favors’

‘I’ll pick you up at 9’

You rolled your eyes at his messages. You loved Hoseok and he was the best manager you could have been given from your agency, but he nagged too much. He was also your friend and his endless nags made you want to rip your eyeballs out sometimes because even when you’re supposed to unwind with him, he never forgets to remind you of your job.

‘I’m the fucking lead, Hobi, they’ll wait for me’

You slapped your phone back onto the nightstand and started going about with your morning routine. You didn’t have a lot of time, and even though you knew they would definitely wait for you, you hated being that bitch who made people wait so you took a quick shower and slapped on some sunscreen, powder, and finishing off with your go-to lipstick. You didn’t bother with makeup and dressing up. This was just going to be a script reading and sure, there were going to be photos taken but the thousands of dollars you’ve spent on facials and treatments already made sure your face was at least flawless despite the lack of effort.

Bringing only your phone, wallet and script, you exited your building and as usual, a shiny black van already awaited outside. Hoseok was leaning on it, scrolling through his phone when he sensed your presence and looked up.

“Oh, thank god you’re on time.” He exhaled in relief, pocketing his phone.

“I value sleep but you’re well aware I also value my career.”

Hoseok grinned. “Now there’s the y/n I know.” He then slid the van door open and you entered without another word.

The drive was pretty much uneventful, with you scrolling through your social media, seeing what fans have been tweeting about recently and with Hoseok humming along to the random pop music playing.

You longed for a distraction, something much more interesting than working your thumb throughout the drive because of the chasm that you were about to jump into when you arrived on set. You weren’t stupid enough to forget about the man who got the role of your romantic interest in the film. But you were wise enough to not let it haunt you for the past weeks. Now though, you can’t really avoid it anymore since you were supposed to be seeing him in person again after almost 2 years. You didn’t exactly leave on the best terms with Jungkook but who knows, maybe you’ll be able to act civil around each other.

At least you were sure you were going to act civil around him, already decided on taking the higher path. You’re not so sure about him, but fingers crossed he’ll at least be an adult about the situation and pretend he can stand being in the same room as you.

Soon enough, you were entering the room the script reading was to be held in. Bowing and greeting the actors and staff seated around the table as you passed by to get to the last vacant seat. You caught Jungkook’s eyes following your movements as you sat down. Luckily, he was seated across from you and it was easier to ignore his presence with the staff members greeting and coddling you.

As always, script reading began with actors introducing themselves and the role they’re going to play. As the female lead, you started off.

“Hello everyone. I’m y/n y/l/n and I’m going to take on the role of Yuri.” Hands clapped around you as you sat back down.

“Hello, I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’ll be playing Ryan.”

You didn’t bother clapping unlike the rest and avoided the eyes of the voice’s origin.

The script reading continued without a hitch– for the most part. The other cast members were very friendly, and laughter was exchanged during the read. The same couldn’t be said for you and Jungkook though.

When lines between your characters were exchanged, there was a weird tension in the room. It felt like everyone else were holding their breaths and waiting for either of you two explode and announce that you can’t do this film anymore. As dramatic as that would be, none of that happened. Instead, cheesy romantic lines sounded flat and bored from both you and Jungkook. The director made a tsk-ing sound whenever that happened.

“It’s always been you.” You read. The script said that Yuri and Ryan stared in adoration towards each other before Ryan uttered his next words.

“Marry me?” Jungkook asked.

You nodded your head as a wrap for the script reading. According to the script, there was supposed to be a kissing scene at the end, so you make ridiculous smooching noises. The cast burst into giggles before the director stood from his seat.

“…and that’s a wrap!” He clasped his hands together. “Hopefully when we start shooting things only look up from there.” He flitted his eyes between you and Jungkook.

Honestly, you wish that too but from yours and Jungkook’s history, you don’t really think that’s possible.

You were both professionals though and you’re sure you could at least count on him to make the on-screen romance feel real.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok said with pity in his eyes.

“Wha- but… why?” You asked, confused with what was happening.

Your part in the new film ‘The Notebook: Remake’ has apparently been withdrawn. As one of the rising stars in Hollywood, this was a really great opportunity for you. It’s one of the most anticipated films and accepting the offer of being the female lead in the movie was a no-brainer. Anyone who refuses that role is just stupid.

But now they were apparently taking it back.

Hoseok sighed. “There were too many scandals surrounding you recently. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not, but you’ve been seen in hotels that Jeon Jungkook has been in too, and in everyone’s eyes you’re now secretly seeing him.”

“But we’ve never even been seen together in any of those photos. Don’t people know the word fucking coincidence?” Your brows furrowed, fists clenching at your sides. “And what does this have to do with my role in the film?”

“It seems they wanted someone with a ‘cleaner image’ and someone who’ll get the film to be a hit. Apparently, the romance won't be convincing if the female lead is dating someone in real life.”

You stared at Hoseok. He stared back waiting for a lash out, an angry outburst, anything really, but you remained silent, eyes unmoving. Soon enough, the dam doors burst open and the tears suddenly came streaming down your face. Hoseok exhaled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hobi what did I do so wrong to deserve this?” you sobbed into his chest.

“Shh, it’s not your fault they’re all dumbasses. But you know the industry, y/n. We’ll find better films for you, okay?”

“Why is Jeon Jungkook such a thorn on my side? Why is he always ruining everything for me?”

“We can’t blame him, honey. He’s probably a victim in this too because of those damn rumor outlets.” Hoseok rubbed his hands along your back.

“But I’m getting the short end of the stick! The rumor is probably just feeding his bad boy persona!”

“Life’s unfair, y/n. Surely by now you’re aware of that. Just remember, karma’s going to bite them in the ass someday, okay? For now, do you want to call it a day and go home? I’ll drive you back and I’ll just report to the agency that you’re not feeling well.”

You nod your head, too listless to bother answering with words because there was only one thing on your mind right now.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good looks. He just ruined the best opportunity for you. You were going to get him back for this. Like Hoseok said, karma’s going to bite him in the ass someday. And that karma was going to be you.

You were supposed to be looking forward to filming one of your dream movies with your dream director. But all you felt was dread when you arrived on set. You promised yourself that you’d stay unaffected to Jeon Jungkook, but you couldn’t help the distaste for him to be left on your face while filming.

The scene you were shooting was when your characters first met and the first takes were a total disaster. You and Jungkook barely spared each other a glance, even when your character was supposed to be enticed by him, breaking down Yuri’s cold exterior. A break was called after the 6th take because the director was so frustrated that he looked like he was about to call the casting director and replace his two leads.

You sighed, not knowing what to do with yourself after the announcement of a break. Your feet led you to your dressing room, ready to pass out on the couch but before you could, someone barged in. Your head turned towards the door, expecting it to be your manager or the director or anyone really, just not the person who currently stood at the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Jungkook asked. Your eyes were suddenly drawn to his biceps which bulged from his shirt as he crossed his arms. The damn arms looked delicious. Too bad they belonged to someone you would never ever be attracted to.

“Sure.” You shrugged your shoulders. You were sure he came here to talk to you about filming and how to work out your indifferences and shit like that and honestly, you were so tired of hating him you’re ready to just go along with whatever. Hating someone actually takes a lot of effort, you realize.

Jungkook stepped towards you until he’s close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to look at his eyes. His eyes locked on yours for a moment before his arms uncrossed and one of his hands landed on the wall behind you. He successfully caged you in with no way out. His lips part and your eyes are drawn to the movement, feeling his exhales on your nose. You swallowed nervously.

Good lord his breath smelled so good.

“Babe, I’m sure you’re just as thrilled as I am to be working with you again as you are with me, but let’s not mess this up okay? Let’s get this over with perfectly and quickly so we don’t have to deal with each other again after. Deal?” His eyebrows raised in question and you nodded dumbly, unable to form a coherent sentence with how close he was to you.

You felt a sudden rush of heat down there and was mentally cursing the man in front of you for how much he was affecting you. He tilted his head to the side and leaned in closer to your face as if he was about to kiss you then he suddenly stopped, his mouth forming a smirk, taunting you.

That smirk was all it took for you to snap back to reality. No, you were not going to let him take the upper hand here. A burst of confidence surged through you as you leaned closer to him too and allowed your lips to brush lightly against his cheek.

“Deal.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how his lips drooped apparently not expecting that. You looked down and there it was, the tenting of his pants that brought a coy smile to your lips. Ha, take that.

You glanced back up at him, your fingers trailing over his thighs. “Aw, didn’t realize you saw me that way Jeon.” You abruptly pulled away and walked out of the room without another word, leaving him hard and defeated.

This is the beginning of his karma, you thought as you grinned to yourself.

[goldencuffs]

persuasion

@lamenweek day six: auguste lives au

It’s four-thirty on a Wednesday, and Damen is exhausted, worn down and irritated over the fact that he’s still stuck in the gym storage room, sorting through eight boxes of equipment.

The year seven kid in here with him, Peter, is slow and mullish: he’s only here because Huet gave him detention for not doing his homework for the third week in a a row.

Damen is here because his entire faculty is incompetent. These boxes were supposed to be unpacked a month ago, at the start of the term, but after Kallias walked out, things have been… hectic, to say the least.

In the stifling heat, Peter’s odour is unpleasant, because he’s thirteen, and thirteen year old boys reek.

Damen is seriously considering telling him to leave, but the extra pair of hands, no matter how small and slow, are still better than nothing.

Then, Damen hears the squeak of trainers across the shiny linoleum floor, and a tall, slim figure leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

Damen bites back a sigh, his irritation spiking.

Laurent says, “Hey you, fuck off.”

Peter balks. “Me?”

Damen has his back turned, but in the ensuing silence, he knows that Laurent is staring the poor kid down, unwilling to repeat himself.

“Mr Vallis…” Peter starts, voice high and whiny.

This time Damen sighs loudly. “It’s fine, Peter. You can go home.”

Peter does so, without a goodbye, and when the gym doors close once more, Laurent says, “Damen, I need to talk to you.”

Damen turns around, mirroring Laurent’s pose. “Laurent, I’ve told you a hundred times not to call me by name at school. It’s Mr Vallis to you inside these gates. Always.”

Laurent rolls his eyes. Everything about him, as usual, is immaculate. There isn’t a single hair out of place, he’s still wearing his blazer, and unlike the most boys in this school, he hasn’t loosened his tie or unbuttoned his shirt to wave off the heat.

The only indication that he isn’t a weird, strange robot is the pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Unless you’re planning on help me with this, I need you to fuck off too,” Damen says, ready to turn back around.

“Actually, Mr Vallis,” Laurent straightens, and Damen doesn’t miss the inflection in his name, “I need a favour.”

Damen unpacks the third box, almost bursting into tears when he sees they’re nets. Nets always go on the top shelf. His back is going to break by the end of it.

“What is it?” He belatedly asks, realising Laurent is watching him.

Laurent presses his tongue to his top lip. “I know there’s a spot open on the wrestling team, and it would look really good on my uni applications if I wrote that I’m—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Revere. I already told you before the holidays that if your grades don’t improve—”

“They have! I managed to get a B in Ancient History—"

“You need a B average, not just in one subject. I’ve already checked, and you’re barely scraping a C.”

Laurent makes an indignant scoff. “Yes, but it would be a B average if Auguste helped me out with Chemistry—which is the only subject I’m failing, by the way. And he doesn’t help me at all—what’s the point of him being the best Chem teacher at this school if he won’t put me in his class!”

Damen runs a hand over his face. “You know you can’t have your brother teaching you—it’s against school policy.”

“Fine, whatever,” Laurent shrugs. “But, I swear I’ve been trying Dam—Mr Vallis. Can’t you make an exception for me?”

“Absolutely not,” Damen snorts.

“Ugh! What’s the point of knowing teachers if they don’t help you out when you need it?”

Damen shrugs. “Tough luck, kid. If I gave you the spot, it might keep someone who actually deserves it from joining.”

“I deserve it.”

Damen rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Laurent adopts a haughty look, head held high. “I’ll tell your boyfriend Auguste that you’re being a dick—”

“We’ve been over this Laurent; I’m not dating your brother.”

“Hmm, could have fooled me,” Laurent mutters in a dangerous undertone. “All that touching and cuddling and inside jokes—”

Damen knows that he shouldn’t rise to bait presented to him by a belligerent eighteen year old, but he’s tired, and it’s been a long, long day so he snaps, “Yeah, that’s what friends do, you little shit. Not that you would know what it’s like to have one.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it: Damen is the adult here (the proper one) and more importantly, he’s Laurent’s teacher. A professional.

Laurent’s face falls, and genuine hurt settles into his eyes.

The corners of his mouth droop, and his voice shakes as he says, “You’re such an asshole.”

Damen sighs, “Laurent—”

“Fuck you, Damen,” Laurent says, and turns on his heel in one smooth, elegant move.

*

Two weeks later, Auguste holds one last barbeque party to mourn the end of summer.

It’s not a crowded party: just four other teachers from school, two of Auguste’s uni friends, and of course, bloody Laurent.

He hasn’t said a single word to Damen all afternoon, the rude shit. Not that Damen expects anything less from the most prickly person he knows.

Laurent normally doesn’t even hang out with them, but since he turned eighteen over the winter, Auguste has been trying to include him in their gatherings a lot more.

It’s still a bit surreal to see Laurent easily holding down conversations with men twice his age, a beer bottle pressed to his mouth.

(That part is not so surprising. Damen caught Laurent guzzling an entire bottle of wine when he was sixteen, in this very kitchen).

Orlant touches Laurent’s knee, and says something that makes him laugh raucously.

Damen stands from the couch and makes his way over.

“Hey,” he says, “I think your brother’s calling you.”

Laurent frowns, eyes drifting over to the alfresco, where Auguste is belting Wannabe by Spice Girls and ignoring the grill, Lazar attempting to beatbox along with the words.

God, the steaks are going to burn.

“I don’t think so,” Laurent says.

When Damen doesn’t leave, Orlant says, “You good, man?”

Damen doesn’t bother to reply. He frowns at Laurent. “You’ve been drinking non stop since you got here.”

Laurent throws him a disgusted look. “You’re not my teacher outside of school hours. Fuck off.”

Orlant raises an eyebrow, looking between them. “You’re his student?”

“Barely,” Laurent mutters. “He just makes us do laps and teaches us abstinence like a pastor from the seventies.”

“The curriculum suggests that I—”

“And he won’t put me on his wrestling team because of a small technicality.”

“It’s not a small—”

“You should let him on the team, man,” Orlant says, smiling at Laurent.

Laurent smiles back, eyelashes fluttering.

Damen frowns again.

“Thank you,” Laurent says to Orlant. “I wish you were the coach. Nikandros spent all summer helping me perfect my form, and it’s all been for nothing.”

Damen feels his face crack. “Nikandros? Since when have you been hanging out with him?”

Laurent gives him a devious smile. “Oh, I can be very persuasive. He spent the entire time telling me how good I was.” He flutters his lashes at Damen this time. “It’s a shame you won’t be able to see for yourself, Mr Vallis.”

Orlant watches Laurent shamelessly.

Damen grits his teeth, blood rushing to his head, and grips Laurent’s bicep, ignoring his “Hey!”

He drags Laurent to the unoccupied living room, pushing him away in disgust the moment they’re alone. “What the fuck is your problem, Revere?”

“What the fuck is yours?” Laurent snaps, rubbing his bicep. “Have you lost it already? You usually go crazy around midterms.”

“Shut up,” Damen hisses. “What are you playing at? Did you seriously go to Nikandros for wrestling tips?”

Laurent is still rubbing his bicep, the drama queen. “Well, yes. You wouldn’t help me, so I had to look somewhere else for… expertise. And Nikandros was more than willing to help. Eventually.”

Damen can feel a headache coming on. “Nikandros is shit at wrestling.”

Laurent laughs. “Oh my god. You’re acting like a baby.” “And you’re being your usual intolerable self.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Now Laurent looks livid, his eyes flashing with malice.

“You haven’t even tried to get to know me for the last three years. When you told me I had to improve my grades, I studied my ass off. I got a tutor. I even went to fucking summer school. And yeah, I might only have a C average, but I’ve improved in literally everything. I’ve only failed one subject! At least Nikandros was willing to listen to me. You just behave like an ass.”

Damen swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks away, down at the shiny, tiled floor.

He sighs, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

Damen looks at Laurent, at the sun shining down his head. “I said I’m sorry. Perhaps I have been… a little unfair.”

Laurent snorts and presses his mouth together,

“I didn’t realise how hard you’ve been working,” Damen says, appreciative. “I’m proud of you.”

Laurent goes red. He rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “Whatever. You’re still a dick.”

Damen smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence.

Then Damen says, “Okay, give me your speech.”

“My speech, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah,” Damen raises an eyebrow. “Give me whatever speech you gave Nikandros. If it can convince him to teach you to wrestle, it might convince me to give you a shot on the team.”

Laurent stands straight, assessing him for a moment. “Are you sure, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Laurent gives him a smile Damen has never seen before. It unleashes something dark in his eyes.

Damen swallows, his heart suddenly picking up pace.

Laurent saunters towards him, still with that smile. He comes close enough that Damen can see the small smattering of freckles on his nose.

Damen presses his back to the counter. “Laurent…”

Laurent bites his lip. “Everyone thinks you’re the hottest teacher at school, Mr Vallis. I’ve had a crush on you since my first year.”

Damen coughs, startled. “Laurent, what…”

“Do you want me to give my speech or not?”

Damen’s chest heaves with his breaths. He assesses Laurent’s beautiful face, his mind carefully shutting down.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

Laurent’s smile is sweet and shy.

He’s still wearing that smile when he gets down on his knees. His fingers are quick, nimble as they unbuckle Damen’s belt.

The clank of metal is loud, even amongst the drone of the party.

Damen should stop this. He should say something. Laurent is his student. More than that, he’s his best friend’s just-legal little brother. Damen should—

Laurent kisses the tip of his cock through the cloth, dragging his tongue over it, making it damp.

“Fuck, Laurent.”

Laurent pulls back and smiles at him, eyes half-mast. “I managed to convince Nikandros in about three minutes. Do you think you’ll last a bit longer?”

Damen grunts, hips moving in aborted jerks as Laurent slides down his underwear.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 4 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

For someone so loud and obnoxious, Bakugou was proving incredibly difficult to track down.

You spent the next few days hunting all over Miruko’s agency for him, an apology sitting uncomfortably in the back of your mouth, but no matter where you went, the hero was nowhere to be found. You prowled inexhaustibly through the fluorescent halls of the underground floors, and poked around curiously amongst the messy piles of paperwork on the business floor. You’d even switched up your schedule in case he was specifically timing his entrances and exits around you, and had taken to lingering suspiciously around the training rooms like some kind of leery pervert, eyeing every blonde head of hair with a little too much interest.

The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized Bakugou wasn’t exactly the type to hide and avoid confrontation, so eventually you moved on to interrogating Mina and Kaminari on Bakugou’s whereabouts. Both of them claimed not to know anything, and no one else seemed to have anything more helpful to say either, nothing more than “I don’t know, haven’t seen him.” It was reaching the point where you were honestly considering filing a missing persons report if he didn’t turn up soon.

It wasn’t until Friday morning that you finally glimpsed a head of messy, ash-blonde hair stalking down the hall to one of the training rooms. You all but fell out of your chair and launched yourself out of the surveillance room after him, shoes slapping loudly in the hall.

You weren't exactly being sneaky, but you didn't expect Bakugou to react the way he did. As soon as you got close, he stiffened and whirled on you. You caught a flash of red eyes and white teeth bared in a snarl before the hallway tipped out of focus and your back hit the wall, Bakgou’s hand clenched in the scruff of your shirt.

“The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou demanded, crimson gaze searching you over. A scowl sat heavily on his mouth, and you noticed that the corner of it was bruised. A long scratch ran across the bridge of his nose, tapering off over one high cheekbone. The rest of him looked untouched--he was clean, and dressed in simple, dark training clothes again that hugged the planes of his chest and strong thighs.

You stared up at him, shocked to find yourself against a wall again. “You’re--you’re here.”

A blonde eyebrow went up. “I fucking work here, nerd.”

You suppressed an eye roll. “That’s not what I meant, Bakugou. I’ve been looking for you--I need to talk to you.”

“So you thought you’d charge me like a fucking rhinocerous?” he demanded. His fingers unclenched from your shirt, however, relaxing against your collarbone. You fought down a shiver as his callouses caught on your skin.

“Don’t run up behind a hero like that, idiot. Especially after a mission,” he growled.

You eyed the cut across his nose speculatively. “Is that where you were this week?”

“That’s none of your damn business, is it, you nosy little shit?” he asked, something like a self-satisfied smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

You let your head fall back against the wall with a thunk, sighing. You’d forgotten how annoying he was in the near week you hadn’t seen him. It was going to make apologizing so fucking frustrating.

“Can you please just not make everything so difficult for once?” you asked absently, trying to dredge up enough humility to get on with your apology.

Bakugou let out a grunt, but shifted closer, one very intimidating bicep coming up to frame your head. Your mouth suddenly went very dry.

“You’re one to fucking talk,” Bakugou said, staring at you with intent.

Mina’s comments on his romantic preferences flitted to the surface of your mind in a wild flurry. Your face heated, and you desperately pushed the memories down. As much as you wanted to snipe at him with an unexpected comeback on what he really thought of women who didn’t take his shit, you did not want him to know you’d been discussing his inclinations. Besides, that would be presumptuous. Just because he had a thing for mouthy girls in general did not mean that preference extended to under-caffeinated and irritable data scientists.

You pushed yourself away from him, pressing harder into the wall in an attempt to create space. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you, okay?”

Those crimson eyes watched you impassively.

“Then what the fuck did you want, nerd?” he asked, leaning slightly closer where you’d just managed to create an inch of extra space. You caught that scent again, hot and butter-sweet in your nose, like burnt caramel, and tried your hardest to ignore exactly how symmetrical his face was up close.

You suppressed an eye twitch. What was his thing about walls and intimidating people? And why was he so close to you? Had this man never heard of personal space?

“Actually, I came to apologize,” you said haltingly, looking up at him. If you hadn’t been watching him carefully, you might not have caught the minute widening of his eyes, the very slightest downturn of his blonde brows.

“What?” he rasped.

“You heard me,” you insisted. “I didn’t mean that you were--uh--weak. When I said I would help the other day. That’s the opposite of what I meant.”

Bakugou’s mouth pulled into an immediate snarl. “Fuck you. I don’t need your pity. I can handle myself fucking fine.”

You huffed. “I don’t pity you. That’s not what I meant.”

“If you fucking think--”

“I don’t!” you yelped, seeming to startle him. “Can you just listen for ten seconds? I’m trying to say something here.”

“Fucking obviously--”

“Bakugou, shut up!” you demanded. “This whole situation isn’t what you think it is, okay? I--I only made a bet with you in the first place because I thought you could jump rank, alright? When I say I’m helping you, I mean that I’m giving you insight because I firmly believe that you are capable of pulling this off. I....honestly, I wouldn’t have even made the damn bet if I didn’t actually want you to try this, because everyone knows you can do literally anything if you want it enough. Obviously you’re going to win.”

He was staring now, and it was all you could do not to shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

“So before you get your panties all in a twist over the fact that I used the word help, just remember that it doesn’t mean I think you’re incapable. I think you’re the most capable out of everyone here. And if you would stop being such a fussy baby for five frigging minutes, we could get back to retraining your habits so you could prove that you are!” you finished, huffing a little with the force of your anger. You forced your fists to uncurl from where they had balled up at your side.

Bakugou watched you carefully, unnervingly silent. You could feel his gaze almost like a touch where it brushed over you, and you fixed your eyes resolutely below his face, not wanting to look at him. You shifted uncomfortably against the cold plaster of the wall, waiting for the dam to break. Where was the screaming? When was it coming?

To your horror, a smirk pulled at the corner of Bakugou’s mouth instead.

“You think I’m the most capable, huh?” he asked. His arm shifted closer.

A flush washed through you with startling speed, heating your cheeks. “Oh my god. Shut up.”

His smirk widened into a predatory smile, baring a pointed canine. “It’s okay. You can own up to your little crush on me, nerd.”

You stared at him in shock. “How is that what you took away from this conversation? I didn’t say that. How in the world would you think that, when all you do is shove me against walls and act like a ginormous baby?”

“You’d prefer I shove you against walls and do something else?” he asked, a blonde eyebrow raising.

Your mind blanked out, fuzzy with static for a moment. You fought down a tiny, traitorous shiver. What the hell was going on in his brain? And how in the actual fuck was this the turn the conversation was taking? All you had wanted to do was get him out of his snit fit so you could get back on track to obtaining software engineers. How had he gotten so off track?

“That’s not what I--! I mean, you--!” you babbled uselessly, freezing up when he shifted his arm. He watched you with obvious relish.

“Ugh, I think I prefer you when you’re screaming at me,” you groused.

Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, and he opened his mouth to say something you were certain you absolutely did not want to hear. Panicking, you brought a hand up and shoved it over his mouth.

“Whatever is about to come out of there, just keep it to yourself,” you commanded. “Now you’ve wasted enough time dicking around. We need to retrain your habits stat if you want to have enough time for everything to propagate in the model by the end of the month.”

A rough palm came up to yank your hand away from his face. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not if you want any chance of actually winning the bet.”

Bakugou scoffed, but to your surprise, he didn’t outright dismiss you. His eyes roved over you for a few seconds more, before he pronounced imperiously, “Tell me your big plan then, nerd. I’ll decide if it’s worth my damn time.”

You sighed. It was probably too much to hope that he’d suddenly be totally amenable to everything after your big speech. He wouldn’t be Bakugou Katsuki if he didn’t make everything such a production. At least he was still here and listening, despite the front he was putting up. And the weird conversational detour he’d attempted to take.

“I was thinking you need team training,” you said lightly. “To get in the habit of sticking close by to other heroes, and to practice evaluating situations more slowly.”

He regarded you consideringly, scarlet eyes flicking over your face. “You want me to train with a bunch of these b-list fucking idiots?”

You suppressed another eye roll. “Teammates. I want you to train with your teammates, Bakugou.”

He made a dismissive noise. “As if. I’m not going near any of those annoying little shits.”

You eyed him speculatively, a thought forming in the back of your mind. “....What about annoying little shits that will go near you?”

He scowled. “What?”

You gestured past him, to the window of a nearby training room, where two familiar figures were darting around the space, throwing up middle fingers at each other as often as attacks. “I have some people in mind.”

Bakugou glanced over his shoulder. Enough of his face was in view for you to see the thunderous expression that overtook over his features as he regarded his friends.

When he turned back to you, he was growling. “No. Absolutely fucking not.”

“Heya Blasty!” Kaminari chirped over his shoulder, pausing when you’d opened the door to the training room. “And stats girl! Come to let a real hero show you how it’s done?”

He shifted up out of a crouch, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Sweat had dried in it, standing some of it on end like he’d been hit with his own lightning. Actually, judging from the singe marks all over his clothes, maybe he had.

“Shut the fuck up before I blow your brains right outta your skull,” Bakugou’s sharp tone issued from somewhere over your shoulder. You could hear debris crunching heavily under his boots, like he was stomping a little.

Mina’s wild pink curls peeked out from behind an overturned car. “Do I hear the dulcet tones of my sunshine boy, Bakugou Katsuki?”

A telltale round of crackling went off behind you, accompanied by a snarl. Mina just laughed, sliding out fully from her hiding place, looking completely unthreatened. “Relax, Blasty. No one’s around to question your tough guy image.”

Bakugou made a dismissive noise. “The fuck do you know.”

Mina made an amused humming noise. Her dark eyes found yours and she smiled conspiratorially. You were struck again by the mental image of Bakugou in makeup and had to suppress a wild laugh.

“Hey, quit it with the fucking face over there,” Bakugou barked, seeming to detect that mutual amusement was being shared at his expense. He surged past you to put his entire palm over Mina’s face. Mina only laughed louder, her peals of bright laughter muffled slightly in his hand. “I’ll fucking end you.”

Kaminari dismissed the two of them, golden eyes flicking over to you. He smiled boyishly. “So, stats girl. What brings you and your angry pomeranian here?”

“Hey, fuck you, pikachu,” Bakugou growled. Then, “You fucking--raccoon--did you just lick me?”

You bit down on a smile, glancing between Mina and Kaminari. It was unexpectedly cute, the way Bakugou was clearly outmatched by his chaotic friends. They seemed supremely unconcerned with the fact that he might actually follow through on his threats, if the way Mina was making kissing noises into his hand was any indication.

“I thought I’d ask if you guys would be willing to train with Bakugou. He needs...adjustments,” you said, making sure to steer clear of the word help. You’d said your apology, and it seemed like Bakugou understood now, but you didn’t want to muddy the waters any on that point.

“Aww, and you came to little old us?” Kaminari asked Bakugou. His tone did nothing to disguise his obvious glee.

“Fuck you, I didn’t come to you--”

“I did,” you pronounced, deciding to help Bakugou out a little. You weren’t going to get anywhere if he spent the whole afternoon flinging insults and insisting he didn’t need anything from Mina and Kaminari. “He has two areas he wants to retrain on. This afternoon I was thinking you could run a couple simulations where he has to stick close to you two instead of going off on his own to do whatever he wants.”

“I don’t go off and do whatever, you damn nerd, I finish the fucking fight--”

“Do you guys think you might be able to spare an hour or two?” you asked loudly. “I’m sure he’d be willing to return the favor for your retraining.”

Kaminari looked positively gleeful, and Mina’s unusual eyes sparkled curiously from over Bakugou’s broad hand. To your surprise, Bakugou didn’t disagree.

“If I get to play villain, I’m in!” Mina agreed, finally shaking Bakugou’s hand off. “I’m gonna melt your legs off,” she told him.

He scoffed. “Good luck trying without any damn arms.”

She made a kissy face at him. “Gonna be hard to come at me if you have to stick to Denki the whole time.”

“Hey,” Kaminari protested indignantly, but he was drowned out by Bakugou descending into an incredibly explicit rant full of choice invectives. This seemed to prompt both Mina and Kaminari to let loose their own shit talk--Mina's comments in particular so obscene and inventive they would make a frat boy blush. It took some prompting and several minutes before the three of them were coherent enough to discuss the training again.

When you eventually managed to reroute them, they drew up the terms of their practice--Bakugou couldn’t go further than fifty feet from Kaminari for the duration of the exercise, and he’d be docked points for every possible opportunity he had where he might have assisted Kaminari and instead went in for the kill on his own. You agreed to code something up quick to layer over the training footage, to identify when Bakugou strayed too far from Kaminari, or went for a shot himself. To make it stick, Mina also insisted that at the end of the exercise, if Bakugou had managed to lose more than ten points, he had to submit to a punishment of Mina and Kaminari's choosing. You shuddered to think of what that was.

Once the details were fully hashed out, you found yourself being immediately shepherded out of the training room by Bakugou. He ushered you along impatiently like a dog corralling a wayward sheep.

“I’m gonna let loose on these fucking clowns--don’t need your quirkless ass getting in the way,” he groused as he led you. This drew you up short at the threshold, and you gaped at him, eyes darting up to catch his.

You...hadn’t told him you were quirkless. In fact, you were sure you hadn’t discussed that with anyone here, not even Miruko. The fact wasn’t something that bothered you, but it also wasn’t the sort of thing you brought up all too often. So....how did Bakugou know?

His scarlet gaze flicked almost lazily over you, and he seemed to catch the unspoken question. Rubble crackled under his boots as he shifted his weight to one hip. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s done their research, brat?”

You felt your heartbeat stutter and then pick up, just the slightest bit. Done...his research? What exactly did that mean? And if he meant what you thought he meant, what was it he’d been trying to learn about you? And why did he need to know?

“Bakugou, what--?” you began, but he cut you off by raising one large hand and shoving you through the door. He leaned out after you, and you caught a hint of that burnt caramel scent again. Your mind fogged a little at his proximity.

“I’m gonna win the fucking bet,” he pronounced slowly, scarlet gaze cutting into you, “and then you’re in for it, nerd.”

You gawped up at him, unable to help the way your mouth hung open. Was he threatening you? And if yes, why was he looking so unusually calm about it? Where was the rage, the snarling and the spitting like a wet cat? And why was he looking at you like that?

Bakugou answered none of your questions, tossing you a wicked smirk instead. Then he turned and slammed the door closed on you, leaving you alone with a swirl of hazy, half-formed concerns.

What....the fuck had just happened?

[tetsustation]

[false alarm]

:: sugawara koushi x gn!reader

:: fluff + 1.1k

:: thank you for rolling kuroo on mudae and giving him to me for free @misutv and i apologize in advance for this

leave it up to him to make a scene right? 

promptly, you stepped out of the way—making room for the other passengers as they flooded from behind you. the temporary dam you built as an immune response to his position was consequently broken when the man behind you had cleared his throat, eager to step out the tunnel and onto the gate.

“what are you doing?” sugawara was about a yard in front of you, kneeling on a single knee.

the waves in his hair were apparent, listless from the weight of his workday. his lanyard and teacher identification was limp around his neck, but danged slightly as he chucked—clearly amused by the position he had put you in. still, you stared him down, attempting not to entertain him

to be frank, you couldn’t really discern what this was supposed to be—moments after you stepped off your flight. it was tempting to walk past him, act like you didn’t even know him—the only thing stopping you being the onlookers that turned their heads, questioning whether or not they were witnessing what they thought they were witnessing. 

“i’m here to greet you, isn’t it obvious?” the smile he wore was eye creasing and pristine—most likely reflecting the natural sunlight that flooded in from the floor-to-ceiling window behind you.

his explanation was beyond insufficient and you felt the irritation brought on by jet lag settle in your stomach, twisting small quarter-sized knots. surely, you were not fit to deal with this fresh off a twelve hour flight, and yet—your boyfriend couldn’t seem to care less. the wingspan of his arms were stretched outwards, creating the illusion of a warm welcome. you glared at his feigned innocence.

“sugawara koushi, so help me god,” you looked around offering a few polite smiles to the miniscule, yet noticeable, crowd that formed around you, “if you don’t get up right now.” 

“and what if i don’t?” he challenged, tilting his head downwards yet maintaining blood-boiling eye contact. you hoped his meter ran out of time, that he'd be fined for a parking violation, that he’d get a flat tire, and his pillow was inevitably warm when you laid down beside him tonight. 

whatever he was doing was a clear betrayal of your shared plan. he’d be six feet under before he was to stand at an altar, if this was how he was proposing to you—when you were barely conscious and in public, of all places. strangulation among other things popped into your fried brain, and yet he was still kneeled in front of you with an award winning grin plastered on his face.

“please,” you laughed cruelly, “don’t tell me this is what i think it is.” 

how would you even respond to such a thing, a proposal? in a sooty airport, with a child’s tablet providing an unfavorable ambience from the next row over? the flight attendant looked nervous, you noticed from the peripheral of your glance. the heat on your face was pounding your pores, and the cold sweat that erupted on the back of your neck was anything but pleasant. 

then, he twisted his torso, arms pulling inward to extract something unidentifiable from his back pocket. instincts rolled into high gear, as you lunged forward to create a death grip on the cliff of his shoulders, squeezing the blades with purpose. anywhere—anywhere that wasn’t public, where a crowd could judge every twitch on your unsuspecting face.

sugawara koushi could propose to you anywhere but here. 

and just when all hope was lost, he pulled out a sleek black rectangle instead, not velvet but a matte shell, that shielded the fragile parameters of his cell phone. the glint in his eyes was almost devilish as he watched your features deflate, from petrification to utter confusion—a journey of just a few seconds.

on the screen, you found a picture of a familiar front yard, with a paved path and an assortment of bushes in front. the paneling on the roof was slanted, ridges of sleek metal that roofed the walls as well as the arched overhang over the door—your dream home, if you will. the house that you and sugawara had been eyeing for about a month now. 

“the other family pulled out, it’s ours if we make a decision by the end of the week.” 

just like that, you were wide awake—any remnants of a restless flight fizzling away as you repressed the squeal climbing up your throat. only when you pounced into his arms did he make the effort to finally stand to his full height, nearly stumbling, but absorbing your contagious excitement, nonetheless. 

standing back, you slapped his right arm, “why would you wait for me to get off my flight on one knee just to tell me that?” 

it was his turn for a demeanor change, he snickered coltishly, “i just wanted to scare you a bit.” 

the claim was somewhat believable, just short of guiltless as you rolled your eyes. the rather small crowd dissipated from around you, and you tabled his stunt in favor of moving forward—if things continued in this direction, you’d have to be ready to undergo a lot of change in the next few weeks.

and in order to preserve your own wellbeing, you smiled. just like always, he smiled back. no matter what emotion swirled in your busy mind, he was always there to match it, align with your fluctuating magnitude in a way no one else could. that was really all you could ask for of someone, and you were grateful to have found it so young.  

for the first time today, you laughed—it was breathy and erupted from the depths of your stomach. clamping your hands over your mouth, you attempted to steady yourself. it all seemed so silly, and yet, you were content. maybe faking a proposal in the middle of a busy airport was just what you needed today. 

only when the airport speaker chimed did you remember that life went on. “lets go, my stuff is at baggage claim,” you remind him. 

grabbing the carry on you had since dropped at your side, he began to trail after you—swerving through the bustle as the quintessence of noon approached. there was a mischievous glint lingering behind in his eyes, that you couldn’t help but indulge in one more time, you asked him what was on his mind.

“your dad asked about me, didn’t he?” though shushing him did next to nothing as he continued, “me and him are best friends, you know.”

“just wait until he finds out about the house.”

✿ TETSUSTATION — 2021 ; do not repost, translate, share without permission, or recycle my writing & layouts. this blog does not hesitate to hardblock in that instance!

[turtletimewriting]

roceit? >w<

1. Who has the cutest tickle laugh?

I feel like I’m giving the exact same answer for this question but god dammed! Of course they would absolutely adore each other’s laughs! Roman has grown used to faking a laugh and just acting happier than he really is about whatever is happening. So to break through that and hear some genuine happy loud laughter makes Janus’ day! He especially loves when he’s stopped tickling and Roman keeps giggling minutes after. His giggles are just so sweet and joyful but the fact they’ll die down and then he’ll burst into laughter all over again despite not tickling him anymore!

But Janus makes a very big deal out of only evil cackling and when he’s with the others, he tends to only act serious and quiet. So to see him alone, frantically giggling and out loud key smashing when Roman wiggles his fingers at him! His loud belly laughter is the best of course but there is a special part of his heart that is reserved for Janus’ hissy giggles!

2. Who is ticklish in unusual places and where would that be?

Not really an unusual place but I cannot stress enough just how weak to leg tickles Janus truly is. He’s snek! Sneks don’t have legs! And so that means Janus’ has the most ticklish legs ever. It’s not a death spot or anything but everything from his knees to his calves to his thighs are incredibly ticklish! One big long tickly spot! Roman’s favourite thing in this entire world is when Janus wears his skirt (cough cough, I’m waiting mr Sanders) and that leaves his legs vulnerable to attack. He could be walking to the kitchen and he knows it’s only a matter of time when he’ll feel Roman attack his legs with a feather duster. 

3. Who gets cheer-up tickles?

Roman, absolutely. Janus recognises early on just how much work and effort Roman puts into everything he does and a lot of it is criticised or outright denied. Roman at first doesn’t see this at all. “It’s my job, of course I’m going to get turned down. Why would an essential part of my job upset me?” but Janus puts his foot down. After an idea is turned down, regardless of how much work it was, and sits him down for a self care session. Janus will pull him into his lap to receive all the tickles and kisses. Then after he’s all tuckered out, Janus will paint his nails. Eventually, Roman looks forward to having a hard day’s work rewarded with tickles and a soft session with his soft snakey boyfriend. 

4. Who takes advantage of the other one getting their arms stuck while taking off their shirt?

Janus is always targeted. His cape makes it harder to tickle his sides and even his tummy because Janus will absolutely curl up into a protected fortress of cape. So Roman has to pick his moments where he’s truly vulnerable. A perfect moment for that is when he’s getting dressed. The only problem is that Roman thinks he’s being sneaky but Janus knows exactly what Roman does. He has woken up before shouting “Oh wait! Are you changing yet! Wait, wait, wait! I need to get into place!” while he scrambled out of bed and perched like a pouncing kitten right behind him. Janus knows exactly why Roman targets him in the morning and if he takes a little bit longer to get dressed or be noisy so to wake up Roman, then that’s for his information. 

5. How did they discover each other’s ticklishness?

I feel like it would be early on in their relationship, or maybe before they started dating, Janus declared who could only date someone who he knew all of the weaknesses of. Roman who was just sitting there eating a breakfast bar is just like... okay? So he lists off allergies or just stuff he doesn’t like and eventually they work round to the question of “are you ticklish and if so where can make you cry?”. Janus then obviously has to doublecheck that he wasn’t lying. Of course.

In comparison, I really like the idea of Roman just presuming Janus isn’t ticklish for the longest time ever. Especially since Janus is more ticklish than Roman. I just really like the idea of Roman being gently tickled and him making some remark about how lucky Janus is for not being ticklish. But as he says that, he jokingly tickles over his knee. Resulting in a squealing Janus jumping fifteen feet in the air. I just like the exact opposites for their ticklishness.

6. Who can’t take tickle bites?

Roman but that’s only because Janus is the master. Again, he’s snek! Sneks are great are tickly nibbles! What’s even better is that Roman literally never expects it! There’s never anything that sets it off. He’s never particularly vulnerable but he still manages to strike! He’ll be lying in bed sleepily and then all of a sudden his boyfriend is buried under the covers attacking his belly. He’s making dinner and then an arm turns off the oven and tickly nibbles are kissing up and down his neck. Sometimes, Roman thinks Janus just likes having something to nibble on as they will be sitting there and he’ll nibble gently on his wrist before diving for his sides. 

7. Who has to be tickle-forced out of bed in the morning?

Janus. Both of them get up at a similar time but it’s during winter when the evil snek boi wants to sleep for 30 hours a day. To make it worse, Janus wraps up during winter, fluffy socks, five blankets and two pairs of pjs on at the same time- he thinks he’s completely safe from all and any tickles. Surely, right? Welp no! Roman is too determined to ever let that stop him! Every day he has to find a new way to penetrate the fortress of warm to wake him up. Sometimes he’ll tickle the palm of his hand, sometimes his little sock covered feet are peaking from the covers, the best days are when he can gently peel away the blankets and get access to a little scaley tummy. 

8. Who gives up in a tickle fight?

Listen... unstoppable force meets unmovable rock. Janus is way too evil to be defeated, do you not see his cape! Roman is way too noble of a hero to accept defeat, do you not see all his princeliness! Who gives up during the tickle fights is Virgil who just wants a peaceful morning and he storms into their room to break up the tickle fight. Both of them are crying with laughter as Roman squeezes his knees and Janus’ hands are stuck under Roman’s arms. Neither of them have the breath to tease or appreciate each other’s laugh. Good vs evil and it turns out both of them are too stubborn and ticklish for tickle fights.

9. Who is in danger of getting hurt when attacking the other?

Janus but getting hurt doesn’t happen often. His scales can be quite sensitive and so it’s easy to irritate them or leave angry red scratch marks. Of course, this results in Roman gently brushing over his scales which is so so so much more ticklish than it should ever be. In terms of when attacking the other, I’d say neither? Roman is aware of his strength and takes pride in how long he can sit there and just take the tickles. Janus simply squirms but when it gets too much his fight or flight response just shouts at him to turn into a snake and disappear up Princey’s sleeve. 

10. Who always provokes the other into tickling them and how?

Roman but I don’t think he realises. If I haven’t made it obvious by now, I’m in love with himbo Roman. I just love the idea of Roman loving tickles and unknowingly provoking tickles. In his mind he just thinks that people love tickling him a lot. He has no idea how walking into the living room wearing a crop top while stretching his arms over his head would ever provoke tickles. So what? He’s just walking around muttering away to himself about how his feet itch but he’s too ticklish to itch it. Why are you blushing so hard Janus? I’m just laying in your lap so my bare belly is sitting by your hands. 

[bffsoobin]

lean on me

↳ finals week was looming and the world only continued to pile on. pushing the limits of the human brain became your new full time job as you tried to cram every piece of information into your head. one late night at the library becomes the straw that breaks the camel’s back and Taehyun comes to the rescue.

➤ slight angst, fluff, college!au

Word Count: 1,881

Requested?: yes

Warnings: self doubt and language!

A/N: I’m sorry if this isn’t reflective of what actual finals week feels like, lmao. I only had one finals week this year and I go to a liberal arts college where finals are “encouraged but not required”. Considering that, I tried my best to channel into my general stress from the week before winter break where all of my profs decided to have huge things due. Anywhooooo- the normal warnings that I didn’t proof read or edit apply here as always!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.

The words on your notebook seemed to be running together more severely the longer you stared at them. You weren’t sure how long you had been trying to absorb the notes from your entire semester of lectures, but you felt as if you had been sitting in the desk chair for about five years. Rolling your shoulders back only relieved some of the tension in your muscles. With a heaving sigh, you made a shaky note in your planner to schedule with your chiropractor at the end of the week. 

Finals week was shaping up to kill you. It was Saturday night, but instead of partying or spending the night cuddled up with your boyfriend, you were melting your brain into mush in the library. In a futile attempt to soothe the headache stinging behind your eyes, you pressed the heel of your palm into your forehead. Nothing changed other than the amount of frustration bottled up inside your chest. When you had scheduled at the beginning of the semester, your advisor warned you against taking all of these classes at once. As you added up all the material you needed to review, you could see why she had seemed so spooked for you. 

Of course you had kept up all semester, but none of that seemed to matter right now as you were staring at two large presentations, three essays and two 3 hour long exams in the face. So that’s why you were here, occupying an entire table with highlighted notes and annotated textbooks. Truthfully, you had no clue what time it was as you pulled your computer closer to work on your presentation slides. For a class that you took as an elective, Art History has proven to be a complete pain in the ass. Clicking through your partially finished presentation, you suddenly became overwhelmed with the true gravity of the week ahead. All you wanted to do was crawl underneath the table and curl into a ball, but the nagging voice in the back of your mind reminded you that procrastinating would only make this week so much worse. 

With a sigh you settled further into your seat and steadied your hands on your laptop keyboard and waited for motivation to strike. Your fingers skimmed over the keys for a few seconds as you typed half a bullet point and deleted it, unhappy with the wording. You glanced over at your notes, searching for a certain statistic that you knew was hiding somewhere in the pages. Where the hell was it? Moving the notebook closer to your face didn’t give you the insight you hoped it would as you continued to struggle. Irritation had you pulling at the roots of your hair as you continued to scan the pages within the chapter you had chosen to report on for your final project. 

You whined quietly, knowing that your overtired eyes were keeping you from advancing through the one thing you had for sure wanted to accomplish tonight. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, “I guess I can just study for Chemistry.” The sound of your laptop snapping shut resonated through the sparsely populated library and made you cringe. Too lazy to actually pick up the hulking textbook, you simply pulled it toward you and watched the cover glide over the sleek library table. Fatigue was clawing at the back of your eyes, begging for you to succumb and lay down to drool on your much too expensive textbook. You fought off the urge with a quick swig of your iced coffee and a pinch to the fat of your cheek. 

You still weren’t sure how long you’d been studying, but you felt as if your brain was about to explode cartoon style all over the wall. Even your favorite vanilla iced coffee had done nothing to increase your awareness, as you found yourself stuck in the perpetual loop of rereading a single paragraph about how to do gram to mole conversions. In the back of your mind, you knew it was time to pack up and go home. It was only now that you heard the insistent humming of the fluorescent lights that dotted the ceiling sporadically. Your left eye twitched. It was time to admit defeat and make the walk back to your apartment. 

The night was surprisingly calm, and even in the late hour (early morning?) the air was infused with a comfortable warmth that made you feel a bit more at ease despite the looming tension headache you could feel. With the route memorized and your body set on the soft embrace of your bed, the walk back to your apartment was quick and easy. Once you stepped inside, you noticed lights on in the small kitchen and the low hum of a comedy special on the television. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sound of hurried footsteps heading toward the front door. Taehyun. 

Your boyfriend stood in front of you, mouth open wide and eyes scrunched together in worry. An apology was already on the tip of your tongue before he began to speak. 

“Where have you been?” his words were saturated with a level of concern that made your heart crack like an eggshell. “I texted and called you all night! I was so worried, Y/N. Do you even know what time it is?” You noticed that his hair was ruffled and the way that half circles of darkness underlined his usually bright eyes before your brain could even register the weak timbre of his voice.

What you wouldn’t give to melt into your slightly scuffed wooden floors. At the mention of time, you dug into the front pocket of your bookbag until you found the piece of technology you had inadvertently ignored almost all day. In bright, glaring numbers it read 1:34. You winced at the time combined with the bundled up text and call notifications, all from Taehyun. 

“I’m so sorry,” your voice dwindled as the full weight of your mistake settled into your chest. The idea of Taehyun sitting around your shared apartment all night, alone and worrying about you, pulled a shaky sob from your chest. You risked a glance his way and soon became helpless to the dam of pent up emotions finally breaking down. “I didn’t,” you sucked in a shuddering breath, “mean to leave you hanging I-I just,” your voice runs dry and sticks in your throat as hot tears continue to streak down your cheeks. Taehyun’s feet, encased in the socks you had gotten him for your anniversary, entered your limited field of view before you felt his arms fastening around your shaking form. His familiar scent only sent you straight into even more upset.

“I was at the library studying all night and I forgot to tell you- god, how could I forget? I’m so sorry, Taehyun, I’ve just been so overwhelmed with all my finals and I was trying not to get distracted so I put my phone away-” Taehyun shushed you, carding through your hair with a careful hand as you cried into his sweater. 

“It’s okay, love. I was just worried that you were hurt, I’m not mad about it, I promise. I know you’re overwhelmed with finals,” he gently guided you toward your shared bedroom as you continued to gasp for air through your tears. 

“No! I was a bad girlfriend. You deserve to be mad at me! I could have just sent you a text but I was too stupid to even think about that,” you sniffled until you felt like your nose was no longer running. Taehyun tutted in disagreement as he finally sat you down against your plush pillows. 

“Do not ever,” he grabbed a tissue and wiped the most obvious tears off of your face, “say that you’re a bad girlfriend. You’re just forgetful sometimes. Focused on one thing at a time. I know that you’re worried about finals, and I didn’t mean to make you feel any worse,” he kept his gaze steady on you even as you felt the urge to look away. You knew he was right. Your stress had been mounting so high that the mere thought of Taehyun being upset with you had overfilled your glass. 

Taehyun turned away from you and for a second your breath stilled in your lungs. Was he actually mad? Was he collecting his thoughts before explaining all the scenarios he had worried over while you were gone? In the midst of your worrying, you had missed the way he rifled through your drawers to find you an outfit which he settled gently onto your lap. 

“Here,” his voice was impossibly soft, “get changed, you’ve been wearing that since we went for lunch earlier.” Like his words had casted a magic spell, you registered the uncomfortable pinch from the waistband of your jeans and got up to quickly change as he busied himself with pulling down the covers on your bed. He welcomed you into the bed with open arms that you readily crawled into. Admittedly, you still felt a bit like an awful person for not even texting him, but you knew there was nothing more you could say. Taehyun pulled you into his chest, intertwining your hands and wedging them between your bodies. 

The position was warm and intimate and helped to soothe the headache still vibrating behind your eyes. 

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” his nose was only inches away from yours, and you couldn’t resist the urge to bump them together. A wide smile sprawled onto his face. “You’re going to do amazing on finals, love. You always do. My smart baby,” a deep blush bloomed across your cheeks. For as long as you’d known and dated Taehyun, he never failed to fluster you with the right words. Taehyun’s eyes crinkled at your reaction. 

“You’re my cute baby, too. You know what else I think about you?” His voice was lulling you into a sleep that you quite frankly hadn’t expected to come across so quickly. Lazily, you hummed in place of asking a question. 

“I think you’re my baby who deserves to give herself a day off. You can’t run yourself ragged all week, love,” he carefully untangled your hands laying between the two of you to drag his fingers over the sensitive skin of your cheeks. “I hate seeing you so worn out, especially this early in the week. It scares me,” your eyes fluttered back open at the shake in his voice. A new stream of tears snuck out of your eye without you noticing. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyun. I promise I’ll take tomorrow off. We can…” your mind blanked into a lovely fuzzy place as fatigue began to drag your eyelids down again. “I dunno, we can deal with that ‘morrow,” you offered weakly. Taehyun’s cool fingertips ghosted over your closed eyes as he hummed in agreement. He pulled you closer to his chest and you took the opportunity to tuck your face into his neck and sigh in content. A firm hand ran down the expanse of your back as all of your stress was carried away by peaceful slumber. No matter how crazy this week got, you knew you had Taehyun to lean on.