#He’s stated before that he’s unsure of this whole thing they’re doing. Which I think is them finding answers on Chalice while gaining-

[clover-the-awesomest]

Another legendary part to the comic… MAN this one is fun!

So, this is for everyone at the casino, have you all ever played truth or dare and if so, what are some of the craziest things people have done or admitted? Since cuphead’s pranks are usually always so extreme do any of you use it as way to get back at him? (Since I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t say no to a dare ever)

(MORE UNDER CUT, THIS IS ONE LONG-ASS SON-OF-A-BITCH ASK)

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[enigmaris]

If Lois Lane had a nickle for every time she had to help an overpowered boy from the midwest with the power of journalism, she'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

Danny watched as Lois pulled out her phone and pulled up a recording app.

“What are you doing?”

“You came to a journalist and are surprised to get an interview?” She asked him, her tone clearly joking. “What you’ve given me here is great kid, but newspaper clippings and copies of federal laws don’t get the public’s attention. I need a story, Phantom’s the story.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

Lois looked at him, less than impressed. Slowly, she turned the screen of her computer until it was visible to both of them. There, in full clarity, was a front-page story from his hometown newspaper. ‘Danny Phantom saves Bus Full of Children!’ and there was a picture of him in his ghost form, his face crystal clear on her screen.

"Phantom’s a ghost. I’m just a dumb kid.” Danny tried again.

Lois pinched the bridge of her nose with her right hand and muttered to herself.

“Why do all you midwestern boys have the same schtick?”

“I’m sorry?” Danny said, unsure if he should be apologizing or not.

“Changing your last name from Fenton to Phantom does not a secret identity make kid. It might work for most civilians, but anyone familiar with the hero game will clock you from a mile away.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

“Sure, kid. But I’m sure you have a way for me to interview him, right? Because I want to talk to him before I do anything else about your town.”

Danny hugged himself and looked down at his knees.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen. Wonder Woman’s is paper thin. I'm pretty sure most people in DC know who she is outside of the cape and just don’t say anything because she scares them.”

Danny snorted involuntarily at that, looking back up at the woman.

“What’s going on in your town, Phantom? Why come to a journalist and not the Justice League?”

“The Anti-Ecto Acts got passed like a year ago. They state that only being that produces or contains ectoplasm above a certain amount is considered non-sapient and is to be turned over to the government for disposal.” Danny said. “I put the whole thing in there for you to read, but it's long. Amity Park has a lot of ectoplasm in it. It's seeped into the air and water. Normal human people have it in them now. At first, those agents were just firing at me whenever I finished a ghost fight. I could deal with that. Their aim is terrible anyway. But then they figured out that humans can become contaminated with ectoplasm. They decided that meant the entire town was under their jurisdiction. They've decided that means that no one in town counts as human anymore, that we don’t have rights, that they’re doing us a favor by not just exterminating the entire town like the law says.”

Danny leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk in front of Lois Lane. He looked right into her bright eyes and spoke seriously.

“When it was just ghosts under attack, I didn’t think anyone would care. I’ve tried calling the Justice League for help, but they’ve brushed me off. People need to know what’s happening. Anyone can become ecto-contaminated. You just have to be in the right place at the wrong time. It’s not right what’s happening to Amity, Miss Lane. I came to you because if anyone could get the world to listen, to believe, then it's got to be you.”

And Lois Lane smiled. It was a proud, eager smile. The kind of smile Danny had seen on Sam right after she convinced the school to serve a vegan lunch. He barely held back from shivering.

“Well then, Mr. Phantom.” Lois said, before tapping onto the recording app on her phone and starting a recording. “Let’s begin.”

[bnhaobservation]

It was always really creepy to me how All might and Gran Torino too never seemed to take an interest in how Tomura ended up in Afo’s hands. Or to what happened to Koutaro. I don’t think I remember them doing any research on the Shimuras, which… is horrifying. They just found out the son of their dead mentor/friend was horribly killed, and then they never mention it again? Besides, they thought Afo was dead for five whole years, and neither of them thought about checking on Koutaro before? Really?

Then they find out that his child was likely kidnapped and turned into a Villain by the guy they were trying to protect the Shimuras from and still nothing? Not even some sense of guilt?

Instead we get Gran stating that it’s basically all Tomura’s fault.

What’s even more ridiculous is that his mentors researching what happened would have been the perfect link for Deku to grow some interest earlier on Shigaraki. And also to finally realize Heroes are fallible.

A child with a heroic heritage, becoming a villain. All of his old kindergarten teachers and neighbours state that he used to be a perfectly normal, even kind child. What could’ve possibly happened?

They don’t care because already back then BNHA revealed its stance about Villains.

In the hospital All Might thinks at Tomura and is troubled by how ‘his master’s own kin lost himself so much in evil’ aka he doesn’t think he could have been a poor kid that got manipulated by an expert manipulator, no, he can’t accept someone related to his master isn’t on a righteous path.

He still wants to find the boy but then it’s clear he’s unsure about what he’ll do after. Gran Torino tells him he must not search for him because if he sees him as anything less than a Villain no good will come from it because no matter who his parents are, he’s a dangerous Villain.

In short neither of the two is seeing Tomura as a manipulated kid, they’re seeing him as ‘Shimura’s grandson’ and as a ‘Villain’. They don’t care about how or why Tomura has became a Villain, they don’t care how All for One had clearly lead him to that path, they only care he’s a Villain now.

All for One tells him Tomura hates him and that he has engineered Tomura and All Might’s meetings. It’s clear All for One has manipulated the situation and very likely has manipulated Tenko but they don’t care. It’s the same thing that Horikoshi has Shouto saying ‘dad was a madman! Our family was screwed up” but when you burned all those people to death… that was your choice.’

Basically for them Tomura chose to become a Villain, all that All for One could have done to encourage/manipulate him into this direction is irrelevant.

Gran Torino searches for Tomura with the express intention to murder him.

He tells him he has to ‘quit trampling all over Shimura’s memory and that his very existence hurt Toshinori so much and made everyone suffer’ (Chap 277). Later, with Midoriya, he’ll lament it should have been him the one who made the kill and that killing can be another way to save someone so Midoriya shouldn’t forget that (and therefore should kill Tomura). (Chap 309)

Gran Torino only has a brief moment in which he realizes he and Shimura made a mistake with Kotarou, because it’s Kotarou who implanted his own hate for Heroes in Tomura but that’s it (Chap. 281).

In the end even Nana will encourage Midoriya to kill Tomura and note that if her original plan was to have him arrested, well, at that point that would always lead to Tomura’s death as Tomura killed people and so he would be sentenced to death.

Long story short, there was never the intention to let Tomura live, there was only a minor discussion if Gran Torino should do the kill, justice should do the kill or Midoriya. And All might conveniently washes his hands clean of all this and let others deal with it. Not even his vestige will help Tomura, it’ll be only Nana’s vestige who’ll do so and, in the end, only to use his soul against AFO because Tomura was going to die anyway.

As for them believing AFO was dead… In Chap 57 Gran Torino speaks of him being back like of an obvious fact and while All Might complains he can’t understand how he survived with such wounds, he doesn’t really argue much. He doesn’t tell him ‘hey, but we checked his vitals and he was dead!’ to the point it was possible to assume they never retrieved his body, hence they couldn’t really check his status and possibly this was the original plan and only afterward Horikoshi decided to show that they indeed retrieved his body and could tell he was dead but it’s not the first time the story makes poor decisions about its continuity.

Anyway yes, they washed their hands clear with Kotarou, they feel they did the right thing by respecting Shimura’s decision and, as said before, this part already showed BNHA stance toward Villains. It’s all their fault if they became Villains, there are no extenuating circumstances and society and Heroes are definitely not responsible for such things.

It didn’t matter what happened to Tomura, if he was manipulated, blackmailed, threatened or whatever, he shouldn’t have given up to evil, he should have chosen to die. After all we see it also with Aoyama. Tsukauchi says he feels sympathy for him but hey, the boy turned his back to decent society when AFO told him if he weren’t to obey he would kill him and his parents! He should have totally left himself and his parents killed and stick up for society! It’s all Aoyama’s fault! (by the way the FAQ said Aoyama still turned himself in to the judicial system, which is why he had to leave U.A. high. Basically even though he risked his life he still did some juvenile detention)… and Himiko couldn’t survive without going to jail because otherwise she won’t take responsibility so much better to kill her off.

BNHA isn’t a story that has compassion. If you’re a Villain, you’re a Villain. Tomura was right in his speech, the system rejected them and the Heroes don’t understand what this means, don’t understand how could this push him into becoming a Villain (Chap 281). The scene in which Midoriya tells him he can’t forgive him and Tomura tells him he can’t forgive them is emblematic of this…. But then Horikoshi sided with the Heroes and just wanted Tomura to be wrong and so we got the ending we got.

So yeah, it’s sad and it’s horrible no one cared for Tenko or Kotarou but that’s basically the logic behind the story. At the end society is a little more caring because it has understood a little better the concept of collective responsibility but that’s it. There’s nothing done for who’s a Villain, there’s just prevention so that less Villains will be created but society DO NOT TAKE RESPONSIBILITY for the harm it has done, there isn’t a single reform in this direction, not even in the jail system which was declared by the manga to violate human rights. But hey, it was the party connected to Villains who claimed this so let’s ignore it.

I personally hate all this but I guess there’s no helping. This is the world Horikoshi created, one that didn’t really care about helping/reforming his Villains and where if someone does so much as be willing to hear them out (before they’re sentenced to death) it’s viewed as a GIANT SIZE deal.

Thank you for your ask!

[mullermilkshake]

Touché

Part 14 <- Part 15 -> Part 16

Satoru's investigation takes a funny turn.

Summary - You are just an author wanting to put your writing out there and carry on with your life, but when two people end up murdered, things you write about seem to be more real than just pure fiction.

<<< Detective!Satoru Gojo >>>

Tags - DDDNE, depictions of danger/violence

<<< Master list >>>

Credit to - @404UND_ Twitter ☆ (Geto) - @maronjapan9a (Satoru)

“What the hell, why not? I have plenty of information that links the two of them, I’m only askin’ to bring her in, why is that such an issue?”

Nanami’s eyebrows were so tightly wound together, they were one with each other. Satoru only asked whether it was okay to finally bring you in for a proper interview without Suguru breathing down his neck.

He wanted Suguru in too, but he made an educated deduction that if you were to come in, he would surely follow. Though you were an easier target to trip up over the standard tactics in squeezing compelling information from.

Satoru knew Suguru had everything to do with the recent killings, he knew it, but there just wasn’t the fucking evidence to back up his instincts. More so, you were more innocent than Satoru assumed you were, but that did not go to say that you were entirely useless in getting evidence against your fiancé without your knowledge.

Even something little that would go unnoticed by everybody else. That’s all it would take, because when Satoru started, he wouldn’t stop. And Nanami knew this, so he was unsure as to why he was giving him shit.

“You could have asked her in for a voluntary interview way back when, but that’s as far as our power goes until you have evidence to bring her in. But that’s moot now, because you’re off the case.”

He was what? 

“What the hell?” He needed a fucking cigarette. “Since when?”

“Last night. And don’t fight me on this, Gojo. I’ve had to do damage control and you’re lucky you aren’t suspended.”

Suspended? “What the fuck have I done to warrant suspension? I’ve been workin’ my ass off to solve this case and you threaten me with suspension? We all know, no one would be able to pull this off besides me, so what’s got your dick in a vice to tell me I’m lucky I’m not suspended? C’mon Nanami.”

Nanami rustled the papers at his desk and furiously picked up a pen, scribbling away on a scrap piece of paper. “If you must know, it's a pending investigation. I received a call last night stating you’re harassing people, I know you’re better than that, Gojo. Why would you do that?”

Harassing? Who the hell said that? “Who? I haven’t even had the time to harass anyone even if I wanted to, I’m out there tryin’ to catch the bastard that’s killing people. But I can’t do that unless you let me bring her in.”

“Why her? Why do you need her, honestly?”

“Because I think she might be a material witness, I’m pretty sure I’ve said this already. All I’ve got to go on is that rose garden, the client list and those links to that book. I need more and I know she’ll give that to us if we press the right pressure points.”

“A rose garden further away with no connections besides there are roses in there. Or the client list that has nothing to do with her beside her name being on it.” He huffed with a frustration Satoru had never seen before. “Those are the only reasons?”

“Yes. They’re the only reasons.”

It was all he had, but it was more than anyone else could find out with the little information he had. No prints, no shoe marks, no DNA and a whole lot of nothing. But Satoru managed to create one hell of a criminal profile.

The killer was cocky, tactful with something to prove. He limited it down to a male, in his thirties with a height likened to his own. A link being that almost all of them were linked in some shape or form with access to the literary world and addresses. Known associates at his fingertips and one motive which was revenge.

Suguru Geto ticked all of those boxes.

Because it was Suguru, he just couldn’t prove it. He sort of confirmed it, though not in stone, when he came outright and asked him last night. His reaction to it wasn’t uncommon, but nowhere near as expected as it should have been.

He was too cool and calm and only reacted harshly when he called him out for having an affair he suspected him of having. He made you dinner while being interrogated, Satoru doubted his heart rate even spiked with guilt or anxiety. In fact, he would bet his whole apartment and its contents on it.

It must have been a bitch for him too, not being able to show his true side, because it was probable that Suguru had one hell of a temper. He bet you had never even seen it before, had you? A sly man thinking one step ahead of the game Satoru had put himself into willingly, and played right into his hands.

You were the centre of it all and the first solid step into bringing Suguru down.

“Please tell me, why do you approach her whenever Suguru Geto is not there?” He said his name with so much familiarity. 

“So he called you.” Fucking great. “Since when were you someone to take things at face value?”

“Because he is a man I’ve known for some time. That’s why.” 

This was fucking bullshit. Suguru Geto had just played Satoru at his own game. Again.

“I showed her a warrant and he showed up, and the only other time I saw her on her own was when I was when I tailed her with Ino. The whole reason I want to bring her in for questioning is to get her away from him. All he does is deflect and answer for her. She might know something she doesn’t even know that’s evidence; I won’t know until I’ve asked her. Please, Nanami.”

He did not look convinced in the slightest. Satoru tried again. “When have you ever had any actual issues with my work? I’m on a roll here and if you take me off this case, you’re setting yourself back weeks. The killer could have taken more lives by then. He’ll slip up soon enough and we’ll get that evidence and nail him. But she is crucial.”

Nanami was thinking. He did this funny thing with his right eyebrow as though it twitched. A trademark whenever he was deep in his own thoughts. “I can’t have you on this case, not publicly.”

Satoru broke the distance between them for the first time and leant on the large desk, laying both palms flat to show he meant business. “He is either killing for her, or in her name. Either way, this psycho is using her book as a guide to kill these people. I don’t know why and I don’t know how they chose her in particular, but I need to get to the bottom of this.”

Satoru did not speak specifically nor mention Suguru’s name to avoid any implications.

Nanami did not speak at first, tapping at the keyboard in front of him and picked up the phone with the other hand, placing it between his ear and shoulder. “Get Ino for me, and send him to my office. Immediately please.”

“C’mon, man.” It was gaslighting at its finest.

Suguru Geto had convinced a man who knew Satoru a long while, understood his values and morals and managed to turn him against him with just one phone call. Suguru was a sly one, if Satoru had any hopes in catching him in a lie, he would need to think more than just two steps ahead.

More like twenty.

“If they bring legal down on us, then you’re finished. I can only protect you so far, Gojo.”

“You wanted me sir?” Ino slipped into the room and stood by Satoru with his hands placed over his tack vest, holding there comfortably with a smile.

“Yes. I’ll need you in homicide a little longer, can you cover Gojo’s case?”

Ino frowned. “Cover it?” He glanced over at him like a deer in headlights.

“As of now, Gojo is off the case publicly.” Satoru wanted to curse at the bastard, but he made an assumption of where this was going before he really got himself suspended.

Nanami got up from his seat and handed a piece of paper to Ino, placing it in his hand. “As of right now, you’re the leading officer, but you’ll listen to what Gojo tells you. If you must interview someone, you must do it. Anything behind the scenes, the two of you can handle it together.”

Then, he made a glare at Satoru. “You will not go anywhere near that house again, and you will do well to remember that. If their lawyer decides they can press charges, I can’t help you and you won't be able to talk your way out of that one. Are we clear?”

“Yeah.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good. Now get out of my office before I get more grey hairs.”

“I can’t believe he asked you.” Satoru stomped out of the office, chomping at the bit for a cigarette.

The ghastly menthols were all he had because he hadn’t had time to go to the convenience store. Still, they were better than nothing.

Ino chuckled and shoved the paper in his pocket. “Look at that. Me, leading officer.”

“Only on paper, big guy. Come walk with me, I need to grab some smokes.” They made their way down to the front entrance and made their way out, right in front of the no smoking sign.

“Not those horrible ones again.” Ino upturned his lip with as much disgust as Satoru had just thinking of the smell.

“Just menthol for now, but I’ll get my usual after. And don’t whine, you're the leading officer now, right? ”

“Yeah, only on paper apparently.” He waved the little piece or scrap Nanami gave him.

“What did the old man give you anyway; what’s it say?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He yanked it away from Satoru’s hand and shoved it back in his pocket. “That’s for me to know and you to find out whenever I decide to. I am the leading officer after all.”

Satoru didn’t really care. “Whatever, man. Like I care.”

He lit his cigarette and took the longest drag of his life. Finally, peace from his state of mind. He wanted to be utterly pissed that Suguru did what he did, but he could only admire him. He got too close and unfortunately fell into the man’s trap, ensnaring him by breaking his ankle.

Suguru had essentially rended Satoru unable to move, like a humanised bear trap keeping him contained in the woods for the animals to feed on until maggots festered. With him no longer leading the investigation with himself, Suguru had placed a handicap on him.

It fucking delayed everything.

There was a reason Satoru worked on his own most of the time, and it wasn’t due to Ino being less intelligent, or the others being slow at collecting evidence, because they were all incredible at what they did. It was down to the fact that Satoru did not have to slow himself down to ensure everyone else caught up with him.

Now he couldn’t do that. His wingspan had been clipped ridiculously short, all over one phone call. Suguru must have been pretty convincing. Did Nanami know you too? Was it just down to a conflict of interest, or did the boss man let his personal feelings into it?

Who knew?

“Come on, let's go.” Satoru ushered Ino along the parking lot, cigarette between his fingers. He could sense his reluctance. “I’ll get you a snack if you come with me, leading officer, as you’re practically my handler now.”

It even hurt to say it out loud.

“Ooh. A snack? You know how to get on my good side.” They walked side by side and wandered into the small shop where Satoru collected his things and paid for them.

“So how do you want to go forward with this?” Ino got right to it, hands in pockets as he turned his head to check the oncoming traffic.

Satoru spoke your name with such conviction. “We need to get her in, I know there’s either something she’s not tellin’ us, or there’s somethin’ she knows and doesn't realise that it’s important.” He made an attempt to hop into the road to cross it.

“Woah.” Satoru had not caught what Ino said.

“But you’ll have to interview her, I’ll write a list of questions-”

“Gojo!” Ino yanked him out of the way as a car came rattling through the street and past them, turning around a corner.

He was so wound up by how the day was transpiring, his senses were dulling. “Holy shit.”

“What kind of idiot drives like that?” Ino didn’t know of the note Satoru had received previously. “Are you alright?”

It was a reach, a winding stretch to link the two, but Satoru could not shake it away. Like his gut instinct was screaming at him, because it was right again. But Suguru wouldn’t dare to pull something like this, would he?

No. It was unlikely, though not entirely impossible. Though Suguru was a man who had sly characteristics, nothing underhanded from what he had seen, purely sticking to the shadows. A man who could not be traced.

Maybe Satoru would invest in a gun. Just in case.

And perhaps the camera from the car picked the incident up. It was right there pointing towards the convenient store. Satoru’s keys were in his pocket, coyly whispering his name with each jingle to pick them up and look.

“I’m fine. Let’s check my car's dash cam. Maybe we’ll see the identity of the driver.”

Ino agreed and followed him across the road, cautiously looking both ways. “Yeah, maybe we can give them a ticket in the first place and slap a dangerous driving label on them.”

It’s just an isolated incident. 

It’s an isolated incident. 

It has to be. 

Threats like that note were more common than one would think. It must have been an isolated incident. Satoru pissed a lot of people off just being himself in a small room. It didn’t mean that someone was out to get him for real, real.

Satoru climbed inside and removed the camera, his foot lazily out of the car with the door open, leaning in to slip the memory card out for his computer. He looked up at the road and couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Jesus christ.”

“Wha- Oh…” Ino noticed you too, walking along the street like nothing in the world was going on with a little shred of paper in your hand. “Damn, she really is hot.”

He ignored the drooling man in his fair assessment and climbed out of the car faster than ever. “You need to go and talk to her. Ask her to come in for a voluntary interview. She’s already here so it could be a ‘coincidence’ thing.”

“Wait a second- ouch!” Satoru shoved him out of the way to slam the car door shut.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you. “Go now before you never get this opportunity again; I’ll wait here.”

“I don’t want to be a leading officer anymore…” He stomped off and approached you rather confidently, but soon enough he was rubbing his neck like some high schooler over a week-long crush in a neighbouring classroom.

At first it was friendly, he noticed you smiling at the dopey police officer with the wagging tail, talking away like old friends. How did Ino do that? Having that sort of, boy next door vibe that made women coo and feel like pinching his cheeks, it was honestly a mystery. But at least you were in a good mood.

Well, until you noticed Satoru at least. As soon as you saw him, your smile faded way too fast into a morphed frown of anger to which he had never seen before and it just got clearer the closer you got to him as you stomped over across the parking lot.

“Honestly?” You said. Woah, you were authoritative.

Is this your real side? 

Before Satoru said anything to you, he spoke directly to Ino. “Look! You tell Nanami that I have nothin’ to do with this interaction. All I’m doin’ is standing here enjoying the sun.”

He wasn’t even buying it and neither were you. “Why are you still getting involved? I told you everything I know, Suguru too. I just want all of this to end so I can go back to my life. You aren’t making that easy.”

Where could Satoru go with this? Well, technically, how far could he go?

“I mean… I work here. So…” What else could Satoru say that might settle you and not piss you off regardless? Because just his presence was doing that. You didn’t need words to justify kicking him.

“You can arrest me if you want, but I’ll have my attorney there with me. So decide what you’re going to do because I can’t keep going like this. Even Suguru’s feeling it, and he never shows how he’s feeling, not really.”

Bingo. 

Satoru remembered the fact that Nanami had his balls in a vice. “You’ll have to talk to my associate. As far as I’m concerned, I’m not on this case anymore.”

That hurt even worse saying that out loud, because he really wanted to talk with you alone, without Suguru’s presence looming over him like a storm cloud. That way he couldn’t dictate the situation.

“Oh yeah! That’s right, uh, why don’t we go across the road and speak over coffee, would that be more comfortable? Just me and you, Gojo has evidence to look at.” He nodded his head towards the memory card.

“Yup, that’s correct. I have a traffic incident to look at.” Could this guy be any more obvious?

You seemed to settle, but you still weren’t having it. “I’m not speaking to either one of you without someone with me.”

“If you want a female chaperone I can get-”

“I said no.” You shuffled on the spot and adjusted the little bag on your left shoulder. “Unless you’re arresting me, I’ll be going. Please don’t come by our house again.”

As you stormed off without so much as a look in Satoru’s direction, Ino whistled and shifted his weight on one side to watch you leave. “What did you actually do to piss her off that much? Did you even tell her that we were tailing her for a few days, or do you wait until the second date to reveal that sort of stuff?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The tension between you two! Man, I wish a girl looked at me like that, you know, like she was going to kick you or something. Seeing her angry is a pretty good look.”

“I was investigating her and her fiancé because they’re linked to the murders of seven people… There's no tension between us except the fact her partner’s playing dirty. He probably has her wrapped around his little finger-”

Wait a second. This whole time, Satoru assumed you were essentially controlling Suguru. But what if it was the other way around?

“Ooh, so it's ‘us’ now?-” 

Well, he was your former therapist. It was sitting under his nose the entire time. Satoru needed a moment to get this straight.

“Let’s go check this footage. I have some things to say out loud and I need your ears.”

The best computer to review this in all honesty was Ino’s anyway. Satoru’s laptop would extract the footage, but that ass of a computer would not do much else. Ino’s computer was bigger, better and the forensic type to zoom in clearly and not just make a pancake of pixels and disappointment.

It even had a little memory card slot. Satoru’s needed an adapter.

“Here you go.”

“Huh?” Ino frowned at the little memory card and left the seat at his computer free for Satoru to use.

Not a chance. “You're the leading officer, it’s your job to check evidence out. I’m just a lowly beat runt who needs direction… Help me out, leading officer. Pleeease? ” 

Satoru could get used to this.

“Crap.” He slumped in his chair and began clicking.  

There was free time in his brain now, so Satoru could think out loud. “What if we thought the roles they played were in the wrong order, and it’s actually the other way around?”

“Like the dude is the one behind everything and using her as a shield?”

“Precisely.”

That could explain why he hovered around you. Not because you asked him to, but because he was drawn to you the same way a dominating relationship worked. The power imbalance and you didn’t even know. Were you even safe around him, or would he turn on you at the nearest opportunity to mould you into what he needed you to be?

A fucking human meat shield.

You were taking the heat for him.

“Do you think maybe that she isn’t aware of it, or that she’s come to terms with it?” That was a great question. Satoru was rubbing off on Ino more than he thought.

“I don’t think she knows. He’s a therapist. Someone who can get into people’s heads without them even knowing. I doubt she’s aware at all, she just sees him as a loving man who she’ll marry one day. A man with no potential to be a murderer because he hides his temper well.”

Satoru was entranced by the idea of your reaction to being told that he was a murderer. He wondered how you would take it.

It all depended on how well Suguru had trained you.

Part 14 <- Part 15 -> Part 16

If you would liked to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗

Tags - @nanamineedstherapy  @winter-soldier-101  @bubera974  @miyababbby  @inthedarkshadows000

@hallahella  @kentoslvr  @jxvajxy  @vertigoswan  @getoe1s

@yan-love-reader

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

The oc side characters and advanced plot is my own work. A gift for @vampir-queen and original idea for this fic is their's. Cross posted from my AO3

Also please don’t post any of my work, thank you!

[mearpsdyke]

no one has to know (what goes on between us)

Summary: answers to the question "are True Damage's Ekko and soloist singer Jinx dating?" may vary depending on who you ask. (Band/Fake Dating AU)

A/N: AO3 hates timebomb so i'm being forced to post this directly on tumblr. oh well. tysm to vik for betaing the fic and being the inspiration behind sassy gay kayn<3

as a general warning this has very explicit smut towards the last 5k words, so maybe skip this fic if that's not your thing.

Ekko thinks, not for the first time since this meeting started, that he should quit music and move to the countryside for some peace and quiet.

The marketing guy is still droning on and on about merch sales and stream statistics, Ekko hasn’t been paying attention for the better part of the hour. He’s fidgeting with the pencil in his hands, intently avoiding the sight of the blue haired woman sitting across him, who’s shamelessly painting her nails.

He doesn’t know much about Jinx; she signed with the label around the same time as him, and although she’s also from Zaun, he doesn’t really know her, which is saying something, since everyone knows everyone in the lanes.

At most, Ekko follows her on Instagram, out of some kind of solidarity with her, something, something “people who come from the lanes oughta stick together”—in reality, he thinks she's quite hot. Likes her posts like he's being paid for it.

Of course, that's between him and god.

The marketing guy—he looks like a Jimmy, Ekko thinks—is still speaking. Ekko is barely listening.

“In short, we saw a spike in streams and social media interactions after the gala; our numbers had been steady, not to say stagnant, for quite some time so this new surge in activity caught our attention,” Maybe-Jimmy says, pushing his glasses up to his nose, sounding suspiciously upbeat.

That catches his attention.

Ekko reluctantly peels his gaze off the ground to look at him, silently wondering what that has to do with Jinx’s presence.

Ekko glances towards his manager, sitting next to him, who’s nodding along, sporting a serious face. He’s the only one that seems to be paying attention—well, besides Jinx’s manager, he supposes. Jinx herself is still busy painting her own nails in two different colors, humming a tune.

“So, as per the CEO’s request, we’ve devised a marketing plan to make both of your streams and merchandise sales go up,” he says, finally going to the point, and Ekko has a faint feeling that he’s not going to like whatever they’re about to propose to him. “Since the spike in interactions happened due to dating rumors between the two of you, we figured it would be a good idea for you to pretend to be in a relationship for some time, at least until after we drop both of your respective albums.”

That snaps Jinx’s head up faster than anything else he’s said this whole meeting, with her hands freezing mid-air. A droplet of pink nail polish falls to the pristine white wood.

Ekko’s mouth hangs open, incredulously looking at Maybe-Jimmy.

“What?” They say at the same time. Their gazes meet each other, twin bewildered looks on their faces.

“That’s your genius strategy?” Ekko questions, unsure if he’s offended that this took an hour of his life he could’ve used to finish his new song, or at the ridiculous idea itself.

“I know I said I would eat my own hands before doing any more Tik Tok challenges,” Jinx says, a pleading tone in her voice. “But I’d really trade doing those challenges instead of this—this stupid shit.” She turns to look at him. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he mutters reluctantly.

Maybe-Jimmy just smiles nervously and clasps his hand over the table.

“The CEO personally green lighted this strategy, so, there’s not much neither of you can do. It’s stated in your contract.” He gives them an apologetic look, but it sure doesn’t feel like he’s sorry at all. Bastards, all of you, Ekko thinks.

This is all, probably, some sort of divine punishment from the universe or god himself for that one time he accidentally leaked one of the songs on their sophomore album before it was finished, and it went viral when a rival group covered it. Akali is still mad about it.

He looks across the table to his new fake girlfriend, who’s speaking in hushed whispers with her manager, an intimidating tall woman with a face tattoo that reads VI, clearly angry at the whole ordeal. He’s not so happy about it either, but at least he has the decency to not look like he’s been given a death sentence.

In hindsight, this is all Qiyana’s fault.

She was the one that went around the Grammys after party filming everything for her vlog, and “accidentally”—Ekko still thinks it was on purpose—caught the two of them trailing behind the other, disappearing behind two heavy doors. What the public didn’t know is that those doors lead to the bathrooms, though it didn’t take long for them to figure it out. The internet was relentless afterwards, spurred on by all the stupid likes Ekko left on Jinx’s posts on Instagram.

Thirsting after Jinx was, probably, the other thing that caused this.

The dating rumors were frankly outlandish; just because they both came from Zaun doesn’t mean they were lovers before fame, he didn’t even know her. But whatever, he guesses the label is desperate enough for a new hit to pull this sort of thing.

As he’s leaving the conference room, he looks one more time towards Jinx, who’s hastily blowing on her nails.

“We’ll reach out soon to coordinate a first appearance together,” Ekko’s manager, Viktor, says, ever the efficient man.

Jinx’s manager offers a tight lipped smile, hastily putting away the nail polish back on Jinx’s purse.

“We’ll be at your disposal,” she answers, placing her hand on Jinx’s back to hurry her outside the room.

Ekko silently follows Viktor, who’s complaining about lazy marketing and cheap strategies like this, though he says nothing about advocating for him and convincing the team to drop this idea; Ekko knows as well as Viktor that his contract was drafted by Satan himself, and going against it is impossible.

He pointedly does not tell his bandmates about it. They have questions about the meeting they were not allowed to go to, but he's tight lipped.

The more he can pretend this isn’t happening, the better.

*

Jinx loves Violet. This is a fact as true as the sky being blue.

Jinx, also, hates Violet. These two statements don't negate the other if one takes into account they are, after all, sisters.

“Are you serious, Violet?! This is why I never tell you shit!” Jinx screeches, once they’ve locked themselves in one of the many soundproof recording studios.

Vi doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. She’s grinning like a mad woman, the fucking bitch.

“Look, I was tired of you telling me how hot you think he is and then doing nothing about it! Besides, I didn’t tell the marketing people to pitch that idea to the CEO, just suggested it. That was all their doing.”

Jinx takes out one of her shoes and throws it in Vi’s direction.

Another thing that’s, sadly, pretty much true, is that Jinx drools over Ekko. She has eyes, okay, and they function.

Unfortunately, when men are so handsome that just by looking at their pictures one gets hot and bothered, they're also, like fucking clockwork, huge assholes.

Jinx would know, she has a knack for dating them.

“One of these days you're going to disappear under mysterious circumstances,” Jinx says, ominous.

Vi smirks, lounging on the sofa like a cat.

“You should thank me,” she says, “the guy might actually be a decent one, I've heard some stuff about him. Dating him could be fun.”

Jinx pauses, considers it—then throws the other shoe towards her sister’s face either way.

*

Their first fake date happens two days later, because Viktor will be damned if he ever stops being quick and efficient.

For what it’s worth, it’s a nice spot, the kind Ekko would choose were he taking a possible partner on a date, which means Viktor knows more about him than he’s supposed to and he has to take him out from his close friends’ story—again.

Jinx is fashionably late, arriving five minutes after him, and she makes a comment about that being her manager’s doing; she would’ve arrived half an hour late if it weren’t for her, who hurried her in getting ready.

To her credit, Jinx put a decent amount of effort in her appearance; her pleated black skirt is what Ekko would consider dangerously short, wearing fishnet stockings under it. A white crop top that reads women hate me, fish fear me gains a confused chuckle from him, and she’s wearing the tiniest hint of make-up, since all the attention is on her signature twin braids; today she added gold charms to them, rings and butterflies catching his eye. All in all, she looks good, really good.

Besides sighing because she's pretty and all of this is fake, Ekko feels flattered that she put this much effort—but also, he’s embarrassed. More embarrassed than anything, actually.

Ekko is underdressed, compared to her; he put on his most comfortable jeans with a plain black shirt under his green hoodie. At least he has his gold rings and tiny earrings to appear more put together.

And he's handsome. He knows that much, so his face always pulls the look together despite all. He hears his female band mates mock him for his ego in the back of his mind.

They get their order delivered in no time, and Jinx laments not having brought her lipstick to retouch herself.

“Are you always running late to places?” Ekko wonders out loud, lazily stirring his coffee. Jinx takes a long sip of her mango milkshake, leaving the straw with a wet pop before answering.

(Ekko does not fixate on her plump lips. Nope.)

“Only to first dates I don’t care about,” she answers, a faux innocent smile dangling from her lips before she digs in on the pastries she ordered.

Ekko snorts. “Yeah, I’m not thrilled about this… arrangement, either.” He leans on his elbows, watching as she licks the frosting off her fingers. On a normal date, he’d make a sly comment about table manners, but it’s not like this is a real date, so he can’t be bothered.

Jinx looks at him, offended, and gasps dramatically.

“But I’m such a funny, awesome, hot girl,” she says, clasping a hand over her chest. Ekko stifles a laugh. “Honestly, you’re so lucky. You wouldn’t even have a chance with me if it weren’t for this PR shit.” Jinx tosses her hair over her shoulder, fixing him with a cocky grin.

Ekko scoffs, indignant. “As if I would give you the time of day. I got nominated as one of the sexiest men alive last year.”

“But you didn’t win ‘sexiest man alive’, did you now?” Jinx quips through mouthfuls of lemon pie. “And either way, when the press gets ahold of the paparazzi pics the label staged, I’ll make sure my manager tells everyone you pursued me.” Her cat-like smile only grows, and Ekko almost snaps his optic nerves rolling his eyes.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he says, sipping on his coffee. Jinx smiles as though he’s given her a compliment.

“Why, thank you, it’s my pleasure.”

Jinx keeps on devouring her lemon pie slice, Ekko’s brain starts plotting his own disappearance and the location of the dairy farm he’ll buy the day he finally snaps and throws fame into the blender, because here he is, sitting on a café with one of the prettiest women in the industry, and he's bickering with her instead of flirting and making this thing look more real.

They don’t talk much afterwards, just sipping on their drinks. At some point, Jinx gets frosting all over her lips and childishly licks them to clean them up instead of using a napkin, like any sane person would. Ekko groans, taking her chin between his hands and bringing a napkin to clean the remnants of the frosting.

She’s grinning at him, wiggling her brows as she teases him. Ekko stifles a laugh.

He hears a camera go off somewhere.

The photo of him cleaning Jinx’s lips is up on the internet before the fake date even ends, and the True Damage group chat goes off.

[Qiyana] sent one attachment

[Qiyana] ??? EXPLAIN

[Senna] YOU FINALLY DID SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR CRUSH????

[Akali] fucking HATE YOU couldnt u wait longer u just lost me $100

[Yasuo] fucking LOVE YOU i just won $100

Not for the first time, Ekko leaves the group chat, deciding to protect his peace of mind, if only until they’re due for rehearsals.

Jinx keeps on eating her lemon pie, ignoring the world, and fixes Ekko with a smile.

“So, what’s your zodiac sign?”

*

So, maybe Ekko isn’t an asshole. But he’s not off the hook, yet.

“I don’t know, Vi. I'm still not convinced he's not another womanizer. Looking like that he could have any woman he wanted,” Jinx complains, hanging upside down from her aerial silks. “Besides, he’s a libra with a scorpio rising.”

Vi hums, definitely not paying her attention, while she types away at her phone.

“Every famous guy is a womanizer unless proven otherwise, despite what astrology may say,” she tells her, “I know it's not helpful, but I’ve heard generally good things about the guy. I have a friend of a friend who’s on all of his private accounts, and they came back clean.”

“Mhm.” Jinx hesitates, chewing on her lips. “Any exes?”

Okay, so maybe she wishes she hadn’t asked that, because Vi pulls profile after profile, and all the women she shows her are so pretty her self-esteem drops. No wonder he’s so wound up about their arrangement; Jinx doesn’t hold a candle to the previous women he dated—publicly, at least.

Jinx huffs, letting herself fall from the silks, somehow landing on her feet. Rehearsal is finally over and she can finally get a good shower.

She absent-mindedly starts thinking about her outfit for the next red carpet as she drinks water, and an idea pops in her mind.

“Hey, Vi,” she says, trying to sound casual. “Do you know if True Damage is invited to the AMAs?”

“Well, I’d hope so. They’re nominated for collaboration of the year for that song they made with Heartsteel. Why?” Vi doesn’t look up from her phone, typing away a message.

She's always on that damn phone now, Jinx thinks, sounding too much like Vander. Ew.

“Oh, I just had a brilliant idea.”

*

See, red carpets are Ekko’s thing. He knows he’s handsome, his stylist loves him, and so does the press. It’s just his space to shine.

This time, though, things are different.

True Damage always matches their color scheme for red carpets; it makes sense to do so, as a band. Tonight, however, he’s the only one that’s not in the same color scheme, and that has an obvious explanation: Jinx.

Per Viktor and Vi’s request, they hard launched the relationship through an Instagram story, some two weeks ago; a selfie huddled up together on Jinx’s couch was all that was needed to add fuel to the ongoing fire that had started during their first date.

This was after a couple more dates, some more staged paparazzi photos, and ominous tweets. To the public, they had been dating for roughly three months, give or take.

Ekko had come over to Jinx’s apartment just to take that photo; she had received him in way more casual clothes than he had ever seen her, a worn grey shirt with a corny quote on the chest and biker shorts. Her hair was loose, and boy did she have lots of it. Ekko thought, in the back of his mind, that she looked better like this.

She made him all but lay on her sofa, then threw herself over him, like this was something they always did.

“Don’t give me that face,” she said, cheek pressed flush against his chest. Ekko’s breath hitches in his throat, but he tried not to show it. “You look like you’re scared of hot women, c’mon, pretty boy, put on a smile for the camera.”

“You’re a menace,” he huffed, willing his cheeks to not redden. Jinx cackled, evil and hearty and a melody to his ears.

(No. Wait, fuck.)

So. Anyway.

It had been a short affair. They took several pictures (because Jinx needed to make sure she looked good) and once they settled on one, the matter was all but solved. And he should’ve left, really; but Jinx commented something about wanting to watch a movie now that she bought an instant popcorn machine, and nonchalantly asked if he wanted to stay over for it.

Jinx had asked him to stay in a nonchalant tone, and nothing in her demeanor told him this had to be something they did for an audience, like the dates or the photos; it was just a casual hang out. So, what the hell, sure, he stayed over, and it wasn’t as awkward as he had thought it would be.

At some point, Jinx’s head ended up resting against his shoulder and he allowed it. It wasn’t half bad.

They hadn’t seen each other since then, sporadically texting as the awards approached to update the other on how their outfit was coming along.

It was a pity, really. Jinx was growing on him, if only because her sharp tongue and clever mind amused him to no end.

“Who would’ve thought a girlfriend was all you needed to ditch the boring basic suits,” Qiyana teases, as they keep on walking down the red carpet.

“Too bad it goes against our color scheme, though,” Senna laments, fixing her gown’s trail.

Ekko, almost by instinct, wants to tell them to fuck off, but he can’t blurt out, defensively, that Jinx is not his girlfriend, not really, because the place is packed with reporters and paparazzi, and he’s sure Viktor would kill him with his bare hands if he shot down their entire operation before it truly begins to take off.

He just huffs, adjusting the jacket over his shoulders. While Yasuo is wearing a normal red, white and black suit, following the color scheme of their female colleagues, Ekko sticks out like a sore thumb—almost literally. The purple of the jacket draped over his shoulders is the same tone as a bruise (Jinx had adamantly insisted on that description for the shade of purple she wanted him to wear. It had been a pain in the ass to get it right), his white linen shirt is halfway open, showing the world his pectorals and part of the abs he had so painstakingly worked out for. His pants were the same bruising shade of purple, and although they were specifically tailored for him, he couldn’t stop feeling uncomfortable.

It wasn’t really the suit itself the issue, more so who he was wearing the suit for.

Jinx is a beautiful woman, she has her charm; he’s just pissed at the label for forcing them to do this instead of thinking of another type of marketing campaign. His bandmates had told him he was, probably, the first man to ever complain about having to date a hot woman half of the industry wanted. It wasn’t about Jinx being hot, more so about his autonomy, or whatever the fuck.

They’re almost at the end of the red carpet when Akali tugs on his jacket, forcing him to stop. He turns to look at her, confused.

“Look who just arrived,” she cheekily says, pointing with her chin to the opposite way.

Ekko knows, before he even looks, that it’s Jinx. He straightens his stance, then bids his friends goodbye before going to look for her.

The moment he sees her, his brain sort of short circuits—which is probably not good (or is it?) because there are a fuckton of paparazzi milling about.

She’s wearing a two piece set; her purple butterfly top has long flowy sleeves attached to it, giving the illusion of a cape, and the skirt goes all the way to the floor, with the draped fabric making her look like an ancient statue. The holographic fabric of the garment is sparkly, catching the light of all the cameras pointing her way. Her hair is intricately braided up in a high ponytail, with braids framing her face and pinned up to the ponytail, with her usual gold hair charms.

She looks so beautiful, his heart starts beating in his ears and something like want starts bubbling in his veins. Which is not good (or is it?) because they’re not really a thing.

Jinx catches sight of him and trots up to meet him, the sunniest smile ever on her face.

“Darling!” She says, throwing herself in his arms. He puts her hands on her hips almost by instinct, while she wraps her arms around his neck. The wave of flashes that follows almost blinds him.

“You look gorgeous,” Ekko says, not without difficulty. Jinx smiles, giggling.

“Thank you, you clean up nicely, too.” She winks at him, letting go of his neck, patting his pecs. Her touch, light as a feather, has his skin burning. “Come on, pretty boy. We gotta give them a whole photo shoot.”

Oh. Right. This is fake.

*

Jinx’s performance goes without a hitch, and through it all she wonders what Ekko thought of it (later, she’ll find that his stunned face while looking at her on her aerial silks flooded social media. It outshone the fact that True Damage didn’t win for collaboration of the year).

When the awards are done, she has an invitation from her friends Ezreal and Kayn on stand-by to come to Heartsteel’s after party, but she’s pretty sure she pulled a muscle while performing, so she opts for heading home.

She knows Kayn and Ezreal will probably berate her for skipping; they’ve been wanting to get all the hot details about her (allegedly, because they did not believe it) fake relationship with Ekko in person, so there was no way she could hang up on them once she grew reluctant to answering their questions.

“Everyone in the industry wants to know how that happened,” Kayn had drawled one time over the phone. “You got your claws on him before Miss Fortune, girl, I heard she was fuming.”

Jinx had paused her skincare routine to stare at the screen, like Kayn could see her bewildered expression.

“Ekko rejected Sarah?”

That didn’t sound correct. Sarah “Miss” Fortune was the music industry’s hot girl; everywhere she went she left a trail of broken hearts. She fit Ekko’s type down to the nail—so what happened?

“Mhm. Like, a fuckton of times. She’s proper obsessed with him since they did that song together, was it two years ago? Either way. I’d watch my back if I were you.”

That call had ended with Jinx more lost than ever, wondering if Ekko’s standards were too high in the sky or if maybe Sarah was properly crazy.

Either way, Jinx didn’t want to find out.

She’s making her way to the parking lot where her driver is waiting for her, when she hears someone call out her name. Ekko.

Jinx turns around, looks at him as he’s still running up to meet her. It’s so unfair that he’s so pretty he looks like he’s in a slow-motion montage, running up a hill to meet his beloved as his locks bounce in the air and fall beautifully on his face, the jacket on his shoulders unmoving.

(She has got to lay off the rom-coms, okay.)

“Hey Jinx,” he says, catching his breath. He pushes the locks out of his face in a motion that’s stupidly sexy. “Are you going to any after parties? Viktor said—”

“Oh, no, actually, I’m going home,” she interrupts him, hugging herself. The night is chilly, and her outfit isn’t the best for the cold. “I pulled a muscle during my performance.”

“Oh.” Ekko looks disappointed, and an awkward silence stretches on for too long.

Jinx clears her throat. “You wanted something else?” She inquires, a playful lull in her voice.

She’s probably seeing things, but she’s at least 90% sure she saw Ekko’s cheeks heat up. Oh?

“Um, not really. I think I’ll just—wait.” He takes off the jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Jinx’s breath catches in her throat—she wasn’t expecting that. “You looked cold…” Ekko evades her gaze, Jinx smiles.

His scent engulfs her; his perfume is something earthy, with notes of vanilla. She likes it.

“Thank you, Ekko,” she says, sincerely. Ekko just nods. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

Jinx turns on her heels to go back to searching for her car, and steals a glance towards Ekko at the last second.

“You could’ve just texted me!” She exclaims cheekily, before hopping on the car.

Inside, she buries her nose against the fabric, relishing in the smell. It’s so distinctly him, it almost feels like he’s actually hugging her instead of the jacket.

If she returns it two weeks later, after having sprayed it with her own perfume, well that’s her business, not anyone else’s. Shut up, Vi.

*

To deny Ekko is jealous would be like trying to deny that water is wet.

And, okay, Jinx is not his, exactly, despite what the world currently thinks. But they’re not supposed to be seen with other people, being flirty and all that; it could leak, and then the cheating scandal would overshadow everything else.

There’s men that approach her, obviously, and Ekko’s not egotistical enough to think everyone knows who they are, so he always tugs her closer, pinches his features just the slightest bit so that anyone can see she’s taken (in theory).

They’re at—someone’s party. Is it Ezreal’s birthday party? Or just a common party? Fuck knows, honestly. But it’s definitely a Heartsteel party. Half of Hollywood and the music industry is here, to begin with.

Including one of Jinx’s many asshole exes (who the fuck invited him?).

“Real asshole, that one was,” Jinx says, taking a long sip from her wine for good measure, pointing with her chin towards Finn.

No last name, just Finn. A last name wasn’t really needed when you’re one of the industry’s most famous producers.

Finn is across the room, but their gazes come to meet almost my accident. His eyes fixate on Jinx, and his blood simmers in his veins when he shoots her a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ekko says, dragging Jinx the opposite way.

Jinx is not his, but Ekko still keeps his arm around her waist. You know, for safety.

“Are you feeling bold today, pretty boy?” Jinx asks through giggles, a stray drop of wine falling on the side of her lip.

See, this is the part where Ekko wipes the remnants of alcohol away from her mouth, says something flirty and leans down to capture her lips in a kiss. That is how it would go in normal circumstances, at least.

But nothing with Jinx is normal, basically. So he kind of just squeezes her waist with all the self-control he can manage, keeping her close for a good while, definitely not brushing his thumb across the exposed skin of her waist, not thinking about how good she looks in her red two piece outfit, with the dangerously short skirt and the top that looks more like a bra.

He’s not thinking about it because they’re in public, and he’s a law abiding citizen who’s trying to not get arrested for public indecency. Thank you very much.

At some point Jinx runs off to talk to her friends, but he decides to stay put, waving away her confused expression in favor of letting her hang out alone with them. For one, he’s not Ezreal and Kayn’s biggest fan; their last collaboration happened thanks to Janna’s grace and Ekko’s self-restraint, because those two gave the rest of the band members a run for their money when it came to huge egos—how Jinx is friends with them is beyond him. Second, he saw Zeri somewhere, anyway, and he’s been meaning to catch up with his old friend from the lanes.

Of course, he should’ve known hanging out with Zeri is no better than hanging out with his band mates, because he’s a fucking idiot and told her about the arrangement.

And he may also have mentioned he thinks Jinx is hot, but that’s hardly news.

“I actually can’t stand you, you know,” Zeri says, the cigarette trapped between her fingers slowly dying out. “Why don’t you just take her on a real date? Seriously, dude, for someone with such an ego…”

“I don’t think she’s interested, not really, to be honest,” he replies, stealing the cigarette from Zeri. He gets an indignant yelp in response. “Trust me, I would know.”

Zeri scoffs. “You know shit about feelings, boy savior.”

Ekko swats her arm, like when they were kids and fought over who got to eat the last piece of candy. And Zeri’s twenty-six, a whole copyright lawyer for famous singers, but she still pushes him back, play fights for a bit.

Another cigarette is lit, and then promptly stolen. Zeri kind of just rolls her eyes and tells him something between gritted teeth, probably “As long as you don’t keep stealing my lighters.”

“I think you should try your luck with her,” she says, clearer this time. “Worst case scenario she rejects you and you make it awkward. Best case, Viktor and the label will milk out your new real relationship for all it’s worth.”

“Mm, no, that’s still the worst case scenario.” He takes a long drag, blows out the smoke in Zeri’s direction. “I do have to find her, though, we said we’d leave at this hour. Maybe you should find your girlfriend and leave, too.”

Ekko shoots her a shit-eating grin, turns on his heels. “Seraphine is not my girlfriend!” She squeals.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he replies.

*

Jinx likes to think, more often than not, that if something were to happen between Ekko and her, well, it’s not like she would mind.

She can’t blame the few glasses of wine she’s had when she looks at Ekko, wearing those black jeans and the shirt with the cropped armpits that give her a great view of his toned arms, and thinks it’s unfair all of this is fake.

She thinks she’d like to know how his lips taste, but that would probably make things awkward; Jinx’s dug around, asked questions, and she’s definitely not the kind of girl Ekko goes for, not at all. As if comparing herself side by side with his exes wasn’t enough proof.

“I’ll get the car, wait for me here,” Ekko says, letting go of her waist. Jinx feels like something’s missing, but she doesn’t dare linger much on it.

She’s touching up her make-up, the music a far-away dream thrumming under the soles of her shoes, when she hears footsteps approaching.

Before she sees him, she smells the cologne.

Olfactory memory is such a strange thing, she thinks in that decimal of a second it takes her to detect the smell. She hasn’t smelled that cologne in more than a year, close to two, and yet by the peculiarity of it she knows, without a fraction of a doubt, who is wearing it.

“My, oh my, look what we got here.”

Jinx ignores him. Doesn’t dignify him even with a flinch of her body.

“What, you can’t say hello to an old friend?”

Silence. That gets him on his nerves.

Finn walks around her, comes to stand right in front of her field of vision.

“Your new boy-toy abandoned you already?” His cat-like smile holds venom in it, and Jinx grinds her teeth until she’s sure she’s broken a few molars.

“Fuck off.”

He smiles wider, the bastard. Finn always enjoyed riling her up, and the thrill of make-up sex made her think it was fine back then, but now she’s seeing red.

“I wouldn’t abandon you, you know—”

“No, you’d just cheat on me,” Jinx says, cold. Detached.

Finn hisses, as if he’s been cut. If it was up to Jinx, she would’ve tried to pluck his eyes out with her stiletto nails already.

“You know it was a mistake.”

Jinx should be canonized as a saint, quite frankly, because she’s not sure where she got the patience to hold back and not kill him.

Part of the reason she doesn’t snap, though, is the car that comes to a stop in front of them.

Ekko emerges from the car, frown in full display as he comes to stand next to Jinx. His hand flies back to her waist, protectiveness in full force as he tugs her to his side, presses her flush against him.

If something twists in her stomach, that’s between Jinx and god.

“Do we have a problem here?” Ekko asks, twisting his face into a scowl.

Finn’s smile disappears, fixing Ekko with a pinched expression.

“You’re the new replacement, I assume.”

“And you’re the asshole who cheated on her with your secretary.”

If looks could kill, Ekko would be dead on the pavement already, and Finn would’ve probably been cut in half.

Jinx wishes she had popcorn. It’s kind of hot when two handsome men fight over you, if she’s being honest here.

Finn scoffs, taking a step forward. “Don’t get smart with me, boy, I’ll ruin your career in the blink of an eye.”

“Like you ruined yours with that pathetic excuse of an album you put out?” Ekko retorts, venom in his smile. Finn’s face twists in a wild expression. “Leave us the fuck alone.”

Jinx’s heart is thrumming against her ears, because no one speaks to Finn like this, no one has the nerve.

No one except Ekko.

Finn snarls, lounges forward to grab Ekko by the collar, but Ekko grabs his hand before he can even touch him.

“Do. Not. Even think about it,” he says, low and threatening. Without letting go of Jinx’s waist, Ekko grips Finn’s wrist and pulls him forward in one tug. Hot. “Here’s what’s going to happen: you’ll leave us the fuck alone, I’m getting in the car with her, and none of this gets out to the press. Okay? Great chat.”

He tosses Finn aside, like a discarded cigarette butt, and hastily walks towards the car. He opens Jinx’s door first when—

“She’s still mine,” Finn exclaims behind them. “Half of that bitch’s catalogue is mine. I own her, and it’s only a matter of time before she’s back with me—”

Ekko closes the car door, locks it, and spins on his heels to punch Finn straight in the jaw.

It’s a quick, sharp punch that sends him flying backwards, clearly having not expected Ekko to retaliate. A surprised gasp leaves Jinx, but she can’t do anything with the door locked.

She sees as Ekko towers over Finn, says something she doesn’t quite catch, and he hastily turns around to climb back in the car.

When he grips the steering wheel, she realizes his knuckles are red.

“He got what was coming for him,” Ekko says, nonchalantly.

All Jinx can hear is a faint buzzing in her ears, reeling from the brief yet charged encounter.

Finn’s words ring in her ears: she knows he doesn’t want her, not really, he just doesn’t like that someone else has her now. He’s a little kid, upset that someone else picked up the toy he mistreated, the toy he discarded, and needs to flaunt his power by trying to yank the toy from the other person’s hands.

It had always been like that during their relationship, which lasted more than it should have because Jinx never knew what a healthy relationship looked like, so she figured as long as she’s not bruised up, how bad can it be?

(Bad. Very, very, very bad.)

“Ekko.”

“Mhm?”

There’s a million things Jinx can say to express her gratitude, but her brain has shut off for the night.

“That was hot,” she says, and this time she can blame the wine. “I mean, um, thank you for—you know.”

Ekko swerves, clearly having not expected that.

“Uh, you’re welcome?” He turns to look at her, cheeks flushed and something wild in his gaze, not the kind of violent wild like Finn, more like, amused wild? Fuck knows.

There’s a pregnant silence that follows. Then, Ekko breaks it.

“What was he talking about, by the way? When he said half of your catalogue is his. That can’t be true, right?”

Jinx sucks in a breath, oh boy. “It is true.”

She proceeds to tell him the footnotes of it, because there’s not enough time in the day to tell him everything.

The footnotes are this: Jinx is stupid. Stupid enough to allow someone she’s dating to produce her first two albums. Stupid enough to not read the contracts she signs thoroughly, because she was convinced her boyfriend would never fuck her over.

Then he fucked her over, not once but twice, and now he’s rich all thanks to her albums.

“I’ve talked with my lawyers, there’s practically nothing I can do,” she laments, flopping back against the seat.

Ekko’s silent, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“I have a friend who’s a copyright lawyer, she’s a master at finding loopholes,” he says, stealing glances towards her. “You know Seraphine, right? Bubblegum pink hair, pop singer. She was Seraphine’s lawyer when she sued her old label for ownership of her masters.”

Jinx whistles. Of course she knows Seraphine, her case had been quite a controversial one; nobody expected her to win against a vampiric company like Piltover Records, known for fucking over their artists one way or another. And then she won the whole thing, to the whole world’s surprise.

Her lawyer had become famous overnight, another kid from the lanes who made it out.

“You’re friends with Zeri? Really?”

“Yup. Been friends forever, we grew up together in the lanes. I could give you her number, if you’d like,” he tentatively says, to which Jinx nods enthusiastically. He then stops the car at a red light.

It’s at the red light that she realizes she has no idea where they’re going.

She looks out of the window, trying to pin-point where they are, but nothing rings a bell, so, they’re driving around aimlessly.

“Where are we going?” She asks, tone casual.

Ekko shifts in his seat. “Uh, I dunno. I just wanted to lose Finn, I think we’re near my place, actually.”

Jinx perks up, a bad idea popping in her mind as her stomach twists.

“You know, it takes a lot of courage to stand up to him like that,” she starts, shifting in her seat so that her body is angled towards Ekko, tucking her knees under her body. “He’s like, really important.”

“He’s an asshole, is what he is,” Ekko spats, turning the engine on again. “Why did you even start dating him, anyway?”

Jinx tries not to smile, weighing her words instead. “You probably don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, I do. I never could figure out how a girl like you ended up with a guy like him.”

A girl like her. What does that even mean? What kind of girl is Jinx? Is it a compliment or an insult? No, a compliment, obviously. Ekko wouldn’t be cruel.

She sighs dramatically, looking at her nails like they’re the most interesting thing on the planet. “If you must know… It all started because we hooked up once, actually. And, okay, yeah, he’s an asshole. But by god he knew what he had to do in bed. Pity, really, that it didn’t work out.”

Ekko almost crashes the car. Jinx holds back a devilish laugh.

He clears his throat, centering the car back to its respective lane while she just bats her eyelashes innocently. She sees the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down, as he grips the steering wheel until the veins in his hands are noticeable.

Jinx didn’t think it’d be this easy to get him worked up. She thought he’d feign nonchalance, and she’d have to bring out the salacious details to get a rise out of him.

Maybe it’s so easy because he likes you already, she thinks, twisting her own stomach in knots. God, I hope so.

Ekko parks the car someplace where it’s practically deserted, shooting Jinx a charged look, but she acts clueless as to what’s happening.

She knows exactly what could happen if she pushes the right button, says the right thing.

“Kind of a weird thing to tell your boyfriend, isn’t it?” He asks, furrowing his brow. Jinx’s breath hitches in her throat when she realizes the pads of his fingers are ghosting her knees.

“Oh, you’re my boyfriend now? For real, for real?” Jinx questions, voice getting breathier by the second as she leans on Ekko’s touch.

Ekko licks his lower lips, his hand now fully resting on Jinx’s knee. She fixates unabashedly on the way the muscles on his arms flex with the tiniest movement, and doesn’t move away when he inches his face closer.

“I could be, if you wanted me to,” he says, letting his hand wander to the sides of her thigh. His eyes are piercing right through her, pupils dilated as he sets his gaze on her lips.

“You’d have to submit an application like the rest,” she replies, trying to sound casual, as she shifts again to untuck her legs, ever the patient one.

“And what would that application be like?” Ekko asks, his face is so close now, his hot breath beats down on her skin, causing a shiver to go down her spine.

It would be so easy to kiss him now, smash her lips against his and fog up the mirrors with their combined breaths. But she wants to drag this moment a bit longer, to make sure Ekko wants the same thing she does, so she chews on her bottom lip, lazily dragging a hand up his legs, then up his torso, until it comes to rest on his collarbones. She sees with glee how Ekko sucks in a sharp breath, something in his eyes growing darker with want.

He wants the same thing, alright.

“You’d have to fuck me, and fuck me good,” she says, with the same tone she’d use for telling someone the weather is nice. She sees Ekko’s eyes go wide, and a self-satisfied smile sets on Jinx’s face. She tries to not let her hands tremble as she caresses Ekko’s neck. “Wanna apply now, hm?”

Ekko doesn’t reply, not verbally, at least—he dives in and captures her lips in a searing kiss, using one of his hands to pull her closer by grabbing her from the neck. Jinx gasps, whimpering against his lips as his grip tightens ever so slightly on her skin.

She wraps her arms around his neck, playing with his locks as he keeps on kissing her, biting her lower lip to gain access to her mouth. Jinx obliges, happily letting him take the lead.

He kisses her like he’s a man who’s been lost in a desert and she’s the first glass of water he’s had in months; like he’s been waiting for this, and the thought makes her head swirl with giddiness as she parts her thighs and allows him to sneak his hand further, but it’s not enough for her to have him kneading on her inner thigh, she wants more and now.

Honestly, they should be worried about paparazzi and whatnot, but it's 3 a.m. on a Wednesday and the L.A streets are deserted on this side of the city. Jinx has no qualms about pushing Ekko off of her so she can kick off her heels, slinging a leg over his seat so she’s straddling him.

Ekko looks at her through half lidded eyes, ravishing her body with his eyes. A hiss escapes his lips as she plops herself rather hard against his lap. He doesn’t let this deter him, though; seeing how little space is left between Jinx and the steering wheel, he reaches under the seat to push it back to allow for more space. Jinx’s smile grows tenfold, happy at getting her way.

“Turn off the lights,” she asks, breathless. He blindly searches the keys and turns off the engine, and soon all the lights are off. They’re only illuminated by the lampposts outside, and Jinx thinks it adds a touch of intimacy.

Soon enough their mouths find each other again, meanwhile, Ekko’s hands grab her ass, expertly bunching up her skirt until it’s crumpled at her waist. He reclines the seat, gaining a surprised yelp from Jinx as they fall forward.

“I’m deducting points for that,” she says through a fit of giggles. Ekko snorts, giving her ass a squeeze, and a whimper escapes her mouth.

“Wasn’t aware there were points.”

“Oh, there are.” She puts on a faux serious tone as she grinds down his growing hardness. Ekko throws his head back, a groan escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. “You can gain those points back, though. You know how.”

He laughs, looking at her through half-lidded eyes as he grips her hips, forcing her to move to a pace set by him.

Jinx tries to angle herself in a way that the friction hits her where she wants, desperate for some kind of release. She feels herself grow wetter by the second, heat radiating off her skin and warming up the inside of the car.

Ekko busies his mouth kissing her neck, now that this angle gives him ample reign over her milky white skin. He slightly bites the skin under her jaw, sucking gently. Jinx hisses at the contact, pressing her hands against his shoulders for support.

Suddenly, Ekko stills her. Jinx protests at the loss of friction, but he shushes her by coming up to kiss her. She feels more than sees him letting one of her hips go and using the now free hand to ghost over her panties.

Ekko stops kissing her. Opens his eyes to give her a bewildered look, and a different kind of heat crawls up Jinx’s neck.

“You made a mess already,” he says, voice filled with lust. He palms at his crotch, completely wet where Jinx had been grinding on him. Her own underwear is no better: it looks like a damp opened between her legs.

It’s entirely because she’s been wanting to fuck him since way before their first date, having unabashedly used him and his photos as jerk off material more than once. But that’s not something she’ll confess—not right now, at least.

“Um, sorry?”

“Don’t be,” he’s quick to say. A wicked smile sets on his lips, and Jinx gasps when he tugs her underwear to the side, resting his index and middlefinger against his own crotch so she can rub against them while she’s grinding on him. “It adds points, right? I’m trying to become a boyfriend here.”

Jinx sputters something unintelligible, the addition of Ekko’s fingers and the faster pace he’s setting fills the car with obscene sounds, though none more obscene than Jinx’s moans.

Oh, he knows what he’s doing.

Ekko alternates between kissing her and biting marks on her neck, and Jinx would say something about being careful with hickeys, but she’s past the point of caring if she’s having sex with her fake-boyfriend in a deserted street, let’s be honest here.

His fingers tease at her entrance when she grinds up and down, she clenches around nothing and Jinx thinks she says something like fuck me now please, but she’s too wrapped up in her own pleasure to be sure if the words came out alright instead of a garbled mess.

Ekko probably understood her incoherencies, anyway, because he stills her once more. A protest is already forming at the tip of her tongue when his fingers knead her folds.

“How am I supposed to finger fuck you properly with no space?” He asks, “Lift your hips a little for me, doll.” Jinx’s brain short circuits at the nickname and she obeys eagerly, giving Ekko all the space. He chuckles and uses his other hand to grip her neck, making her come down to kiss her hungrily. “That’s my good girl.”

She clenches around air again.

Soon enough, Ekko inserts two fingers at once, eased in by her slick-covered cunt, and Jinx hisses at the stretch. His hands have always been bigger than hers; she’s wondered before how it would feel, and, honestly, this is better than her imagination.

Ekko starts slow, giving her time to adjust, but Jinx is an impatient little shit, so she tries to fuck herself on his fingers faster, harder. Ekko stops her, going back to grip her hip, and stills inside her.

“Behave for me, can you do that? Or are you too desperate to even try?” He questions, cocking an amused brow.

Jinx’s cheeks grow hot, but she doesn’t let her embarrassment show. “I should be the one bossing your around, you’re the one submitting an app—oh, fuck.” Her complaint is cut short when Ekko keeps fingering her, looking at Jinx with a shit-eating grin.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Ekko asks, but Jinx isn’t even paying attention. She’s only aware of Ekko’s fingers curling inside her, hitting a spot that has her seeing stars behind her eyelids. “Don’t act like you want to be in control, doll, when you obey me so easily and eagerly.” Her blush probably spreads up to her chest, embarrassed at being figured out so quickly. Ekko just smiles, coming up to kiss her jaw.

“Moan for me, pretty girl, it’s like music for my ears.” Ekko punctuates this by removing the hand still gripping her to rub better at her sensitive nub.

And by god he doesn’t have to tell her twice; her moans become desperate, now that she’s free from his grip she steels herself by grabbing the sides of the seat, gyrating her hips in the same relentless pace Ekko sets.

He crooks his finger in a particular way that has her whimpering, tears dabbing at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure. He’s still sucking marks on her neck, whispering things she doesn’t quite catch against her skin.

Jinx is positively seeing stars. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to even out her breathing to prevent her orgasm from washing over her so soon, but she cries pathetically as Ekko swipes his thumb side to side, resolve crumbling as she fucks herself faster on his hand.

She’s vaguely aware of the heat pooling in her stomach, her walls clenching around his fingers, and the slight tremble of her legs. Jinx speeds up, chasing her own orgasm, but her plans are ruined when Ekko withdraws his fingers.

Her eyes snap open, gasping indignantly. “Ekko!” She half-protests, half-whines. He looks up at her, faux innocence in his features.

“What? Did you think I was gonna let you cum like that? Nah.” He pauses to regard his soaked hand, covered in Jinx’s juices up to his wrist. Jinx watches incredulous as he licks it clean; the sight is so filthy, and yet ironically heavenly. Like, she’s sure that she died and was sent straight to heaven, and Ekko fucking her mindless is her reward for all the shit she’s gone through.

His heavy gaze sets on her as he licks his digits, moaning around them. “You taste so good,” he breathes out.

“Ekko,” she starts, whining pathetically, “please. Just—fuck me, I need you to—”

He comes up to kiss her again, and she tastes her own saltiness on his lips. It sends shockwaves to her cunt.

“I want to feel you clench around my dick,” he says against her lips. Jinx is not sure if she moans because Ekko smacked her ass or at the sole thought of that. “I want you to ride me like you’ve never ridden anyone else, doll. Scream out my name while I pound you from below, that sound good?”

She wants to say something, anything, but the part of her brain in charge of forming sentences has completely shut down at this point, and so she settles for nodding enthusiastically, moaning against Ekko’s lips.

She hears more than sees Ekko unbuckling his belt, the clinging of the metal snapping her out of her haze.

Jinx sucks in a breath as she lifts herself from his lap, helping Ekko tug down his jeans and then finally slide his boxer down, freeing his neglected cock. At the back of her throat, Jinx feels a whimper trying to escape her mouth at the sight of Ekko’s cock, but she swallows it down.

She runs her own fingers through her wet cunt, eagerly collecting slick, and uses it to wrap her hand around his dick. Ekko hisses, throwing his head back against the cushion of the seat as Jinx strokes him out slowly, deliberately.

“You have no idea how much I imagined this,” he says, breathing heavily. One of his hands comes to cup the side of Jinx’s face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Hollywood’s prettiest girl on my lap, already a desperate mess from just being fingered? I can’t wait to get to my place and fuck you properly, like you deserve; have you gripping on my sheets—mh, fuck.” Filthy moans escape Ekko’s lips, interrupting his rant. He smiles crookedly as Jinx fastens her pace. “God, you’re so good at this. Just like that, baby.”

Jinx is in a trance, salivating at the sight of Ekko. His words travel straight to her cunt, feeling her clit ache to be touched; she touches herself with her free hand, trying to match the pace of the hand that’s masturbating Ekko.

Her name falls from his lips more than once, spurring Jinx on. Faintly, she really hopes nobody catches them, otherwise Vi will kill her, then resurrect her only to kill her once more but more violently.

Suddenly, she gets an idea.

With a devilish giggle, she shifts on Ekko’s lap, pressing his cock against his stomach, and he shoots her a curious look. Jinx carefully positions her cunt over his cock, sliding along the length up and down, and they both moan at the same time.

Ekko’s eyes roll back, squeezing her ass. “Careful,” he groans. “I’m gonna—fuck, Jinx.”

“Don’t come yet,” she finally manages to say. “Want you to come inside me.”

His eyes snap wide open, mouth hanging agape at her words. “Are you—?”

“Mh, Ekko, I’m so serious,” she moans. “Want you to fill me up with your cum, please.” Jinx doesn’t mention that she’s on birth control, or care to add she’s as clean as can be because she doesn’t really do hook-ups.

If Ekko has questions, he doesn’t ask them. He only licks his bottom lip, and grabs her by the hips to lift her up.

If it’s possible, it definitely turns her on even more that he’s strong enough to practically maneuver her without any trouble.

Jinx does her part dutifully, pushing her panties aside to line herself over the tip of Ekko’s cock. She looks at him straight in the eyes as she’s sinking down on him, her face contorting in a grimace that’s a mixture of pain and pleasure. She bottoms out with a piercing cry, and Ekko groans under her.

She’s so full she could cry tears of joy. Maybe she does, she’s not aware of anything that’s not Ekko’s hands on her ass, not really setting a pace but more so lingering, and his cock hitting all the right angles inside her.

Jinx leans forward, moaning in Ekko’s ear as she keeps on riding him with an erratic pace.

“Fuck, Jinx,” Ekko says her name through a whimper. Suddenly, his hands come to still her once more, and she hears her feet shuffle, planting themselves against the ground. Anticipation bubbles in her stomach as he positions himself more comfortably, and starts fucking into her from below. She screams right in Ekko’s ears, a sweet melody for him that only spurs him on.

Jinx’s body goes limp, Ekko is still holding onto her hips, moving them up and down to match his thrusts. Somewhere in her brain, she thinks Finn doesn’t hold a candle to Ekko, who has practically fucked every thought out of her head before she even sat on his cock, and now all she can think of is that she wants him morning, noon, and night.

Could’ve been doing this all day for four months by now, she thinks.

The car’s windows are all fogged up, and she’s at least 99% that if anyone were to walk by, they’d probably deduce something is going on by the way the car is shaking.

“Jinx, I’m gonna—”

“Cum inside me,” Jinx whines, “please, please, please, please. I’m so close, too.”

Ekko says nothing, just groans and picks up the pace, while Jinx’s hand flies to her clit.

If she previously felt heat in the pit of her stomach, now she feels a whole forest fire roaring inside her. Her pent up frustration at having been denied an orgasm earlier is like accelerant, helping the fire spread all through her.

Ekko feels her walls closing in on him, obviously, so he grabs her chin with his hand to force her to look at him.

“Cum for me, doll.”

That’s all it takes for her to unravel.

Jinx comes with a cry, nestling her face in the crook of Ekko’s neck, muffling her cries with the seat. Her legs tremble, threatening to give up, but Ekko’s firm grip keeps her up. He’s still thrusting into her, chasing his orgasm while he fucks her through her own, but she’s grown sensitive, so she can’t help to cry pathetically.

“Ekko, please. I can’t—”

“Do you want my cum or not, baby?” He asks through heaving breaths.

“Yes,” she answers without thinking.

“Then just—just a little more—”

His breath becomes erratic, pounding her faster, making her cry from overstimulation, until he finally snaps, coming with a low moan.

Jinx stills, catching her breath as she feels Ekko’s thick cum filling up her insides. This car is going to be so messy, a hell to clean up, but right now she thinks it’s all worth it.

They stay tangled for a moment longer, Jinx still not moving off from Ekko, catching their breaths in silence.

Then, he speaks. “Did you like my application?”

Jinx’s laughs echo in the car, “You’re such an idiot,” she giggles, pressing her forehead against Ekko’s.

He just laughs, wrapping her waist with his arms.

“Yeah, but you like me like that,” he says, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jinx gives a long suffering sigh.

“I guess I do.”

“You ‘guess’?” Ekko shoots her an unimpressed look. “Weren’t you just begging me to cum inside you a second ago?”

“Shut up!” She cries out, indignation seeping in her tone, but she’s not mad, not really.

Ekko laughs, a honey-like sound that melts away any annoyance she could’ve been harboring.

“So,” he says, tone casual. “Are we going back to my place for round two? I still wanna put you on your back.”

Jinx thinks, for a fleeting second, she could have round two right there and then, considering he’s still, y’know, inside her. But the promise of a bed sounds too good to pass up.

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

*

When Ekko wakes up the next day in his apartment, with Jinx sprawled on top of him, he doesn’t have the heart to move her away, so he just stretches to reach for his phone on the nightstand besides him, the first notifications are from the True Damage group chat and a quick text from Viktor telling him they need to talk.

He panics, thinking they did get caught last night and someone took a photo, or worse, a video as proof.

When he opens the group chat, however, a cat-like smile blooms on his face.

True Damage’s Ekko and Shimmer Records’ star producer, Finn, get into a brawl over singer Jinx at Heartsteel party—WATCH VIDEO, reads the headline of the screenshot Yasuo sent.

He smiles, chuckling to himself, and tosses the phone aside to keep happily sleeping with Jinx—correction, his girlfriend.

As it turns out, the application on the car had been enough to turn this fake arrangement into a real one.

In the back of his mind, he makes a note to thank Maybe-Jimmy for his brilliant idea.

[squidzillaa]

Levi DID NOT reject Hange

An explanation and analysis 🦑

First things first, 5 key factors:

1. This scene is from Levi’s pov (another reason why he looks sad and upset, while saying his goal is to kill Zeke.)

2. This chapter parallels to Eren and Mikasa’s “What am I?” scene in chapter 123.

3. Wanting to live with another, is a common trope in AOT. (Isayama’s love language. 😉) 🏠

4. This is one of the most romantic scenes in AOT, I don’t know how this flew over SO many people’s heads?? 😂😂 It’s right in front of your face!

5. Isayama parallels chapter 126 to chapters 52 and 53. (These chapters contain some of the most important interactions between Levi and Hange):

“Right, Levi.?” (Hange knows what Levi meant. 👍🏻)

“Right… …Levi?” (Does Hange know the answer here? 🤔 Guess… 😏)

Next, in both these chapters, they are being hunted:

Chapter 52: Hange suggests, “Just for now.”

Chapter 126: Hange suggests, “But for now…”

Chapter 52: Levi states, “If we do nothing but run, then all we can do is get caught.” He knows if they stay, they’ll get caught and possibly stabbed.

Chapter 126: Levi questions, “If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us?” He knows the possible consequences of running away, so why does he ask anyway? 🤔😏:

Now, explanation:

Levi was only “pretending” to be asleep, in order to hear Hange’s dream. If Levi Was meaning to reject Hange, he WOULD NOT have brought it back up and then avoid the question she asked (while blushing) which was, “Oh so you heard me?” He’s not going to admit that he heard her because he is a TSUNDERE and, like Isayama said, is awkward and clumsy when it comes to romance. ;)

Hange blushes, because she confessed her love to him thinking he was asleep. In the Japanese culture, asking someone to live with you is a way of proposing. IFKK. (If you have common sense 😉, you can recognize that her blush alone shows that she meant it romantically.)

The other main ships also include a similar situation of wanting to “live” with their love interest:

(Obvious one) Eren to Mikasa

Falco to Gabi

Annie to Armin

Hitch to Marlow

Ymir to Historia

Jean to Mikasa

Eren even brings this up in an interview ⬇️, straight up telling viewers that Hange’s line was a proposal and confession! (Another big factor: Eren and Hange parallel each other, just like how Mikasa and Levi do. That’s a BIG character plot point that a lot of fans don’t recognize or realize. Which in itself already tells you who the 2 main lovers of the story are. Cue “Call Your Name.” 👥)

Levi could have interrupted her if he wanted to reject her proposal or could have straight up said “No we can’t”, “I can’t do that.”, “I don’t want that.” But he didn’t because he Wanted to live with her as well, and was probably imagining a life of just the two of them living in the forest. 💭🌲

He knows that Hange is already preparing to pull him around, so after Eren’s Rumbling announcement, that’s when he decides to get up and ask where Zeke is. He sits up because he wants her to come over to him so he can pop the question of “running and hiding.” Especially because he knows that Eren’s announcement will make Hange want to stop Eren asap. Levi needs to hurry and reask her question before they’re out of that forest and have to focus on their plans, rather than their feelings.

He asks where Zeke is to make her think he was asleep the whole time. (Buttt he blows his cover right away when he asks her what running away will achieve for the 2 of them. 😂)

Levi asking where Zeke is was NOT his first thought, because he was awake the WHOLE time. (Stop trying to make everything about Levi in connection to Erwin and his promise, this scene has nothing to do with him. 👾)

In this chapter, they both have a moment of doubt and confusion:

Hange wasn’t sure if she should continue her duties as Commander, because she’s unsure if they can stop Zeke and they’d be on the run for the rest of their lives.

Levi wasn’t sure if killing Zeke was worth it, because Zeke was willing to die.

Levi restates what Hange said, as a question, because he wanted to know if she Had a good enough reason to leave it all behind.

Levi doesn’t go against Hange’s ideas and encourage them often. Levi loves and trusts Hange SO MUCH, that he was willing to give up on his promise to Erwin and his comrade’s, if Hange had given him a good enough reason to stay. But of course he knows Hange can’t stay out of the action and that they have their promises and duties to achieve first. ☹️🤝🏻🌲 (Along with the guilt that would come with it.) To what ifs.. 🥂

In conclusion, Levi and Hange’s “freedom”, are each other. KAWWW 🦅

(Looking at Their Freedom)

[chambersandfogg]

October 2nd, 1923

I’m not entirely certain I like this decade. Granted, we are only three years into it, but if it continues on in the manner it’s been progressing so far, I think it will become one of my least favorite decades. Nothing can truly win out over the terror that was the teens, but I think I far preferred the nineties to now.

I suppose that’s a privilege that comes with my…nature? Predicament? Blessing? Curse? I’m still unsure how to feel about my everlasting life. But having a defined ranking of favorite decades seems a good a use of my unique perspective as any.

All to say, the twenties so far are much too boisterous and loud for my taste. It feels I’m invited to some party or new club every weekend. It’s jarring how much frivolity has overtaken the city and every social circle I’ve become acquainted with in the past few years. This is never quite as obvious as John Fogg’s summer solstice party, which I’ve attended the last two years. It is always nice to see him, I suppose, but I don’t much care for the crowd he runs with.

To be honest, I don’t know how he stands it either. Just last year, the man had some kind of fit when his guests broke an entire tray of champagne coupes. I’ve seen it before in men who have experienced combat: shell shock. John seemed disinclined to discuss it in the following days and then this summer, the party was similarly loud and destructive and he seemed perfectly fine. But it makes my stomach turn—the excess, the thoughtless joy. It isn’t that I resent seeing people amuse themselves, but it seems to be at the expense of remembering what brought us all here. Then again, perhaps it is only me who refuses to forget. Perhaps they’re right to grab happiness however and whenever they can, knowing how fragile it is. But every time I have just a tad too much to drink, I see the faces of the men who died by my poisonous innovations, I see John’s pale, wide-eyed face in his quiet library, a raucous gathering happening just outside the room. I far prefer the quieter days spent at his estate in the days following the solstice, when the two of us can converse openly about our strange lives and enjoy the comfortable companionship that is inherent in sharing a space with someone you know so well.

John has invited me to another fête—a Halloween party of all things. I don’t have plans to go, but I still need to send him my regrets. In fact, I’ll likely be sending him more than that—I know I should share the news that I’m leaving New York. Perhaps I can give him my address in London, but I don’t think I’m going to stay there very long either. For the first time in my life, I’m feeling a real traveler’s bug. I feel cooped up here in the States and if we’re all throwing responsibility and common sense out the window, I may as well do some of that myself and travel the world. It won’t be the quiet company of a friend, but it won’t be the loud and tinny noise of America either. I think it’s time for me to experience something entirely new.

[from the personal diary of C. X. Chambers]

[to read the pre-1917 entries, join Atypical Artists and get access to the archive of 24 entries (5,000+ words), as well as ad-free episodes of Atypical's whole catalogue. to receive future monthly missives straight to your inbox, sign up for free here]

[fangirlinglikeabus]

semi-serious sand thoughts:

i’m not actually opposed to servalan/tarrant conceptually, at least within this very specific scenario...part of that i think is that if you’re going to do a story that touches on a pain servalan experienced when she was very young, bringing in a Fresh Faced Youth to evoke that period of life works. also i get the impression that getting to play the dashing hero type does appeal to tarrant - see assassin, where he’s absolutely swayed by piri being apparently emotionally vulnerable and likely to need him. so like at the very least there’s some sort of precedent within the show. the fact that he’s so QUICKLY attracted by servalan’s tears adds to some of the ambiguity surrounding to what extent she’s manipulating him because surely she knows that, despite himself, this would be an effective way to win him over - and i’m not 100% convinced that would be the case with any other character. do i think all of this is entirely realised within the episode? uh...not sure. but i do think there’s reasoning behind the whole thing.

also i just think she deserves a boy toy or two idc

speaking of tarrant. love when servalan says he saved her life and he replies ‘we’re all entitled to one really big mistake.’ like buddy you are going to make one WAY bigger by the end of this episode.

adored that final scene of servalan thinking over both keller and tarrant before crushing the water cube tarrant gave her in her hand to get rid of the last of the sand. mainly because that looks like it could surely cut you, so it just comes across as this almost self-destructive act with which she closes off the potential for emotional vulnerability which was opened up by the sand trapping them. destroying both the gift tarrant gave her and the thing that brought them together. he remains unsure how sincere she was, she gets rid of any evidence she WAS sincere and in emotional pain - and to do so she breaks glass RIGHT into the palm of her hand.

(also potentially thinking of this in relation to ‘i don’t care about us’ and her placing tarrant’s gun up to her head and daring him to shoot her - which is pretty intense even if she guesses he won’t do it. women will literally murder their way into the presidency of an authoritarian state instead of going to therapy)

another good scene, this time with the scorpio crew: soolin theorising they’re being affected by that alien mind that got onto the ship through cally and vila snapping at her and storming off, only for her to admit to avon when he queries it that she doesn’t actually believe what she just said. just...up there with her telling orac ‘you wouldn’t know where to start’ when he offers her her heart’s desires in terms of what i find to be Tantalising Soolin Character Moments.

i’ve now also watched gold and while i think it’s a very solid episode (avon losing it laughing at the end when the entire crew are pissed at him because he risked their lives for a trap that got them nothing and netted servalan a bunch of money?? man has Reached His Fucking Limit and is now firmly Past His Fucking Limit) it does disappoint me a bit that dayna and tarrant seem to be largely interacting like usual. don’t get me wrong, i do like seeing the crew act like a competent unit and i’m not asking for a big blow up, but they’re probably two of the closer members of the crew, Away Mission Buddies, and he just hooked up with the woman who killed her father. that's a massive betrayal by someone she thought of as a friend, and i’d have liked a bit more obvious tension there even if it was just in small moments of interaction

i honestly had a great time with sand. i think every blake’s 7 member should have an episode where they’re locked in a room with servalan, i wanna see what would happen to each of them

[calethelettuce]

SaSi Prinxiety Week 2/7: Feathered Fallacies

Prompt: Feathered Wings

Tags: @prinxietyweek

Synopsis: [Fallacy (noun): A false or mistaken idea.] Logan does an experiment incorrectly. To put it simply, Roman accidentally gains a pair of silky white wings. Virgil's simping over- I mean admiring how hot the Prince looks with them.

Relationships: Romantic Prinxiety

Characters: Brief Appearance Logan, Roman, Virgil

TW: Small panic attack, Remus being mentioned

~

“Erm…. Logan?”

Logan sat at his desk, working on schedules. He looked up as he heard Roman call his name. “Yes, Roman?” He called back, taking a sip of his coffee- was it actually wine? Who knew.

Roman paced outside the door. “We’ve got a problem!”

Logan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“It’s better if I show you.”

Logan stood up, adjusting his tie and glasses. What in the world could be so important? He unlocked the door, it open. He pauses mid-movement, looking Roman up and down.

“Roman, how on Earth did you manage to gain wings?”

Roman crossed his arms with a huff. “Gee, teach, I wonder. Think about it for a second.”

What- Oh.

Logan internally cringed. “You were nearby when I was working with those chemicals, weren’t you.”

Roman have him a look that clearly meant that he was. “No shit, Sherlock! Fix this right now!”

Roman’s newly gained wings lay folded against his back, the feathers a dove white. They were fairly large, though not large enough to be considered an issue fitting through doors. They were rather beautiful, Logan had to admit, although the princely side clearly wasn’t enjoying it much.

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is why I specifically state that nobody is to come near my house when I’m working with chemicals.”

Roman shrugged. “Patton said you might have an extra jar of Crofter’s! I ran out!”

“Terrible excuse.” The blue tied side summoned a clipboard and a pen. “Now, about your issue…” he scribbled a few things down before continuing. “I’m unsure if there is a cure I can conjure this very second. I’ll get back to you when I find one.” Logan went to close the door, but Roman placed a hand on the doorknob.

“What do I do in the meantime? If Remus finds out they’re about to be fried chicken wings.”

Logan thought about it for a moment. “Go to Virgil.” He forcefully closed the door this time, relocking it.

Roman groaned in frustration. “Damn you, scientific laws of the Mind Palace!!”

“I heard that!”

“Oh shi-“

~

“Virgil, stop petting them.”

Virgil ran another hand over the soft and fluffy feathers. “No,” he concluded, “I will not.”

“You’re acting like a five year old right now!”

“Okay, well you’re the one who decided not to listen to Logan!”

Roman felt a shiver run down his spine as Virgil continued to run his hands along the wings.

It wasn’t very often that Virgil was interested in things. But these wings? The greatest thing he’d seen his whole life. Period.

“So you can feel this?” He asked.

Roman was not about to admit he was enjoying this. “Sure can, emo. Can you stop that? I don’t like it.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Your face says otherwise, you royal pain in the ass.”

The prince blushed, scoffing. "Does not!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, fine." he removed his hand from the feathery limb. "There, are you happy now?"

Roman stared at him. "No." He grabbed Virgil's wrist gingerly, placing his palm back onto his wings. "Keep going."

"You confuse me."

"Just shut up and do it!"

The two sat in silence as Virgil continued to pet Roman's wings.

"They're very pretty," Virgil mused after a while, examining the feathers, "What the hell was Logan even doing that day?"

"I have no idea." Roman adjusted his sash, brushing off any possible dirt or lint that could have gotten on it. "I did see Remus at the door, saying something about 'cephalopods' and tentacles, but that was it."

Virgil hummed in response. "Your wings need to stretch," he concluded, standing up, "They look tense."

"Oh! Okay." Roman stood up as well, observing Virgil's room. Very emo. Just like him. "Shall we head to the Imagination, then?"

"You want me to come with you?" Virgil looked confused.

Roman gave him a soft look. "You're the only side I trust with this right now and Logan's busy. Patton would probably die from cuteness overload, Janus is Janus, and Remus- well, I don't want to become fried chicken."

Virgil snickered. "You got that right. They'd probably taste like glitter."

"Haha, very funny." Roman playfully nudged him in the side. "Now come on! I can sink us out!" He placed his hands on the purple-clad side's shoulders and sunk them out.

Virgil shrieked, not expecting the sudden change of gravity. He latched onto Roman, as he randomly shot out any curse he could think of.

It was certainly different than sinking into Thomas' house.

"Woah, are you okay, Virge?"

Virgil's breathing was rather heavy as he clung onto the prince from the side. "HOLYSHITDON'TFUCKINGDOTHATTOMEAGAINOFISWEARTOGOD-"

“Hey, hey! Breathe.” Roman brought him into a hug, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “4, 7, 8. Remember?” His tone was hushed, soft and caring. “Breathing is good for you, yeah?”

“We’re imaginary you- you dipshit.” Virgil was surprised he even managed to get that sentence out. His chest was tight and gee, was he shaking.

“Focusing on breathing, my prince.” Roman supplied, holding him in a gentle embrace, “you can cuss me out later.”

Roman helped Virgil sit on the ground next to him, keeping a protective arm around him. They were quiet as Virgil focused on his breathing.

The sides sat on a grassy hill, surrounded by flowers. The Imagination’s castle was in the distance, it’s winding and tall towers looking small from their spot.

Roman carefully opened his wings for the first time, being surprised at how big they really were. They looked much smaller folded, he decided. He tried flapping them very slowly as if he already knew how to use them.

Virgil had become much calmer by then, and watching intently.

Roman gave him a bright smile. “I have to admit, they are rather cool.”

“They really are..” Virgil cuddled up to Roman’s side, smiling. “I’m kind of sad I have to see them go.”

Roman chuckled. “Me too.”

The red-sashed side extended a wing, carefully folding it over Virgil’s like a blanket. “For protection,” was what Roman said, “Just in case.”

Virgil scoffed playfully. “Protection from what? Your terrible humor?” He pauses. “…it feels like a weighted blanket.”

Roman beamed. “Well, you look tired, creeping beauty. Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll protect you.”

Virgil blinks up at him. “Oh, okay. If you say you.”

There’s a blissful silence between them as Virgil drifts off to sleep. Roman observes the fluffy clouds, before looking down at his dark and stormy knight. He pressed a gently and loving kiss to the top of Virgil’s head. “Have a good nap, dear.” He whispered with a smile.

Roman wasn’t too happy when Logan called him a few minutes later.

“Not now, nerdy wolverine!”

“But-“

“If you wake Virgil up with how loud you’re talking through this receiver I’ll kick your ass.”

“Okay. I’ll just text you. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Roman rolled his eyes and hung up.

On the other side, Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed an unopened bottle of red wine. “I can’t deal with this shit right now.”

He drinks half the bottle.

~

Listen, I just wanted some Logan in this- I thought it would be funny

[starfinss]

HI IM TOO SHY TO GO OFF ON ANON BUT TRUST ME IM CHECKING YOUR BLOG REGULARLY, IM JUST AT WORK OR NOSEDIVE IN VIDEO GAMES HEHEHE

anyways depending on when this happens so for now let’s assume this is before Zuko sees iroh again AND before he fully realizes his feelings i like the idea that zuko wishes he can talk to iroh about whatever he’s feeling but is talking to a frog instead then the reader catches him and asks him what’s he’s doing THEN reader becomes the ear zuko needs during that time EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE THE ONE IN ZUKOS MIND

im thinking maybe this be the time reader maybe is more sure about her feelings for zuko and is internally crying cause she knows zuko has feelings for someone and FULL BELIEVES ITS KATARA

AHHHHHH i love two dumbasses who can’t communicate their feelings and take info poorly so they doubt themselves

NONONO DON’T WORRY IT’S OKAY. No pressure at all, you don’t have to come off anon if you don’t want to.

I love the idea of Zuko confiding in reader about her, and her being convinced he’s talking about someone else, that’s peak stupid romcom and I’m here for it. And I’m the perfect idiot to write this because I DO THIS, I am horrible at communicating with people I’m interested in romantically about how I feel about them and it drives my friends crazy.

Anyway, I did have some questions. I’ve been trying to figure out what this event that makes them suddenly start getting along/develop feelings for each other would be, but aside from some unusable things that wouldn’t go anywhere, I’m drawing a blank. Do you have any ideas as to what that could be? Also, I considered making the reader a waterbender, just to add even more to the whole opposites attract thing, as I stated in the text post I made a few hours ago.

Also, apart from the frog, which is hilarious, I also imagined him talking to Appa or Momo or something, because that would be really funny, but I’m unsure. Ideas are formulating but not solidifying, if that makes sense. We’re on the right path, though. If you have more ideas, please send them my way, I’m really enjoying working with you to make this.

[hexarcana]

She stares at his hand, her stomach turning over. How had he lost those fingers? It must have hurt. she’s had her fair share of gnarly injuries but due to her… Circumstances, they typically healed before they came so dire as to require an amputation.

She thinks of McGucket back in Junktown. He’d lost a whole hand at some point though he couldn’t recall how…. Oh God, She’ll have to tell him about this.

She watches him, taking in the way he walks and moves. There are minute differences brought on by age and injury but it’s unmistakeable. She looks from him to the view as it reveals itself. It’s admittedly, breathtaking. Things seemed less desolate and ruined so high up. Even the weather is nice, making the vista look a bit like a pre-war postcard.

“That’s what lots of folks call you, yeah.” She says with a chuckle, “Though it’s an older name. They predate the posters, which I have seen.” There were a few on the outer walls of Junktown, and a massive one was on the ceiling in one of Junktown’s two bars, more as ironic decor than actual advertising. “Always wondered how he- You, heh- managed such a big operation. You see that from the Brotherhood, maybe…”

She clears her throat, rocking a bit on her feet as she had done as a child and teenager when she was nervous or waiting for something.

“Ahh, I can’t really take credit for Junktown.” She says sheepishly, “It’s a group effort, n’ I’ve just…” Got the highest kill count, and could move things with her mind. “Been in it the longest.” She concludes. “I travelled through the spot, made a note of how secure it could be with a bit of work, and went back to settle when I had the numbers.” By numbers she means herself, Her son who was about 10 at the time, and a mentally and physically unwell Fiddleford. Junktown had been closed off for a good couple of years, just the three of them while they worked to get it livable. It was locked tight before then.

“Leader stuff..” She repeats, absently thinking about how she had planned on possibly killing whoever she met in this place, if his demands were too steep. She can’t imagine that now. “S’fine with me.” She says with a tired smile. She walks over, gingerly sitting beside him, but not before shifting her weapons holsters and grenades so they’re as non threatening as possible. “Wow.” She says as she leans back on the couch. “Don’t think I’ve sat on something this nice since…” Since 61. “Well, let’s just say it’s hard to find furniture that isnt half burnt or full of insect eggs out in my neck of the woods.”

She’s quiet then, unsure what to stay, or even where to start. How much did he know? He’s got his pipboy, he’s definitely see that stupid Vault 61 Distressed call that’s been on loop for 40-Odd years. But did he know what actually happened, and what role his twin brother had played in the complete destruction of their home? And if he didn’t know, could she even tell him, or would he perhaps hate her for not doing more. She certainly did.

“I really missed you.” She blurts out, not fully intending to start this conversation with her stupid teenage girl feelings. Besides that, saying she missed him was the understatement of the century. Without Stan, Aggie became a usually despondent frequently catatonic person only coming out of these states to be violent and difficult to control. Her world ended that day, and it didn’t come back until she started up Junktown. And even then she isn’t sure if she ever recovered. Crushing blow after crushing blow would do that to someone.

She keeps looking to his hand, because clearly it troubles her. How bad had it been? Are there worse injuries she could have spared him the suffering if she had just found him, or kept him from ever being exiled?

“I’m so sorry, Stanley.” She sounds weak and tired, and her eyes are filled with worry and guilt.

“Ha! Nope, flesh and blood. Well. Mostly.” He flattens out his palm to show off the robotic fingers that attached to his right hand like a gauntlet.

“Funny thing really, I got on just fine for the first ten or so years without ‘em. Least I can write my own name again without it lookin’ like a five year olds.”

He walks over slowly to a small control panel visible by the entrance doorway and presses a combination of buttons. A recessed panel on the right hand side wall slides away, revealing a window. Late afternoon sunlight filters into the room. Stan peers out over The Boardwalk, briefly turning away from Aggie. The main avenue below is thronged with traders, tourists and other assorted denizens of the Jersey Wasteland.

“King of the Boardwalk eh?” he says playfully, and smirks. He turns back to Aggie “I’ll try and not let that go to my head, I got an image to maintain. Mr Mystery, y’know? You musta seen the posters right?”

Weaver had recommended it a few years ago. He said that if he insisted on all this smoke and mirrors crap, they might as well make some caps out of it. So the posters had gone up, pasted up on nearly every underpass, abandoned building and junked car in the Jersey Wasteland by a small army of couriers and scouts.

They all consisted of the same design- a bright, colourful rendering of The Boardwalk’s skyline, the black silhouette of a figure with a question mark within it set in the background. And they all came with a goofy rhetorical question. “DARE YOU SEEK YOUR FORTUNE AT THE BOARDWALK?”

“WILL YOU FIND YOUR FREEDOM AT THE BOARDWALK?”

“WILL MR MYSTERY WELCOME YOU TO THE BOARDWALK?”

And so on. Honestly, the wilder the rumours that sprung up around him as a result, the better. The way he looked at it, the more mysterious he was, the safer he was. He had seen more than his share of loudmouth bosses or leaders suddenly get whacked by becoming too visible. Staying in the shadows for the most part meant staying safe. It didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with it though.

He realises he’s getting ahead of himself though.

“What you got at your settlement ain’t nothin’ to be modest about as well Aggie…” he said. It was true. From what his scouts had told him, Junktown seemed to be a thriving little community. It also appeared to be exceptionally well defended for such a wasteland settlement, to rival the Boardwalk itself. He wondered if he could poach whoever designed some of those defences for the Boardwalk.

“That’s kinda why I asked the uh…leader…that is yourself, here. Was gonna talk about trade deals, water distribution…you know how it is…leader stuff, amirite?” He shrugs resignedly. He sidles over to the couch in the centre of the room and sits down.

“Honestly though, I don’t feel much like talkin’ business right now…I uh. Hope that’s okay.”

[justahumblesideblog]

How Belos’ Intense Gaslighting/Abuse Accidentally Lead him to Raise the Most Goodest Boy Possible

I’ve seen takes about how Hunter and his predecessors were just naturally good person because the person they are all cloned from was a good person regardless of his upbringing. Perhaps there could be some merit to that assessment (the whole nature vs nurture and all that) I think it’s more about how the Golden Guards were raised that just put them in the path to rebel. Regardless of Belos efforts (or lack there of depending how you look at it) it’s pretty clear how his obsessive control would only push the Grimwalkers to “betray” him. In Hollow Mind, we see brief appearances of two other Golden Guards and even if it was just for a few moments, we actively see a slight difference in how Belos talks to them and the major difference he handles Hunter in comparison to them.

The first Golden Guard we see is during the aftermath of the “wild witch attack.” At the very start, we see Belos scolding him harshly for setting off the explosions so close to the stage. Then he just immediately brushes pass to go to the next town to most likely have a similar performance, and when the Golden Guard stutteringly asks what to do with the other explosives, Belos just simply tells him to “put on a better show.” During those days, Belos didn’t even try to hide his malicious intentions from this Grimwalker, and he also had no qualms in expressing his annoyance to him so bluntly. This Golden Guard seems meek and unsure despite him ultimately going along with the destruction of the town. Coupled with how Belos treats him, it’s not surprising for this boy to someday stand against Belos because Belos doesn’t even try to give him a reason not to.

Then we have Golden Guard number two during the coven sigil scene. This moment is much more subtle, but the way Belos answers his “they’re still alive” with a “then we still have some work to do” he sounds more soft spoken. He isn’t as aggressive to this Folden Guard compared to the one we saw previously. However, he is still doing little to hide the his insidious intentions from his young protégé, and while he walks away, we see the Golden Guard hover over the poor woman before moving to follow. The motive to rebel against someone who would do such a cruel thing still plants in this boy’s heart.

Before we get to our current bad but sad boy, I feel like Darius’ mentor at least deserves an honorable mention. We unfortunately have not actually seen any scenes with the Golden Guard that came right before Hunter, but for him to seen as a mentor to Darius implies that he at least made it to his late teens, maybe even into his adult years. Going by what little we know about the man, he seemed to be one (if not the sole) inspiration to Darius becoming a rebel. Hunter openly defying Darius in favor of defending his new found friends lead Darius to state that he would make his predecessors proud. The fact that Darius used the plural form rather than just speaking specifically about his mentor leads me to believe he is at least somewhat aware of the true nature of the Golden Guard position, but I digress. What I’m getting at with this is the fact that Darius’ Golden Guard could possibly be one of the oldest any of the other Grimwalkers could have gotten before getting replaced.

Which leads us to our very own Golden boy himself, Hunter. Coming off the tails of one of the oldest Golden Guards, we have the youngest scout to ever be given the title. Belos is already trying to improve his manipulation techniques from the get go by inducting Hunter so young into true hierarchy of the Emperor’s Coven. Unlike the other past Golden Guards we are shown, Belos is for the most part very calm and “gentle” when speaking to Hunter. Only sounding more firm when he actively scolds him for failures, but even then the tone Belos takes is much more authoritative rather than openly scornful. Instead of openingly displaying his malicious intentions, Belos paints himself as the savior to all of the Boiling Isles. Sure he still loses his temper with Hunter, but even that is explained away by lying to Hunter about the nature of his “curse” so his nephew just sees him as his poor uncle who needs his help. Hunter is very much isolated in order to keep the lies planted in his head from breaking, thus keeping him devoted.

However, for as long as Philip has been perfecting this craft. For as much enough he put into making his latest Golden Guard the he loyal and loving nephew, it’s these practices that actually lead Hunter down the path of rebellion just like the others, perhaps even faster than his predecessors. Hunter being inducted into the coven so young and so completely made him truly believe that all of his actions no matter how harsh is for the sake of the greater good. Because he has no one else other than his Uncle (initially) it just motives Hunter to aid his uncle in every possible way he can, and because he was taught to do everything “for the greater good” that just inspires Hunter to research wild magic for the sake of Belos’ “curse” even though it goes against Belos’ orders. Hunter is willing to face potentially harsh punishments because he ultimately believes it will aid his Uncle. Hunter is so isolated that when he actually does gets love and support from people outside of Belos, it hits him like a truck and latches strongly onto his heart, which leads him to want to do his best for those person, despite it putting himself in harms way.

Perhaps the actual reason why every Golden Guard ultimately turns against Belos is the fact that it’s impossible to have complete control over a person ni matter how much effort is put into it. In trying so hard to keep his Grimwalkers in line, Belos has only pushed them on the path of “betrayal” due to his abusive methods catching up with him. Even the most loyal of the Golden Guards can only believe in him so much of Belos is nothing but a self righteous monster too consumed by his mission that he fails being a decent person to his “kids.”

[sukirichi]

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now. 

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

[katscki]

can i please get a bakugou x fem!reader who is alone on valentine’s day at a bar and her toxic ex walks in and she has to pretend to be dating anyone 🥺🥺🥺

YES YES YES

More Thankful Than You Know

bakugou x reader

masterlist

wc: 770

cw: kinda hurt to comfort, protective bakugou😤, shitty ex, cursing

What else were you supposed to do when your asshole ex walked in?

To put it simply, you hated valentine's day. When you’re alone that is, which also happens to be the case today. So, as most people do when they’re lonely, you make your way to the nearest bar to drown out your sorrow. This wasn’t how you had expected to spend the love filled day, about a month ago you were still in a relationship, well that’s before you came home one night and see your asshole ex-boyfriend trying to pack up and leave with some bimbo while you were at work.

As you walk in and make a beeline for the bar seating, a sigh leaves your lips at the multitudes of people in there like a nightclub, all of which had the same idea as you. Not even thinking you just take the closest seat to you not caring who was by you. Finally, being able to order your drink and take the first swig was the best thing that had happened that week, well until you hear the familiar taunting voice. Looking at the door with wide eyes you see him, the breath leaves your lungs and you're frantically looking for an escape. He can’t see you, not here alone, not moping the way you are. Without thinking you turn to the stranger next to you finally taking in your surroundings.

The words come out all at once all blurred together in a hurried state, “Look I know you don’t know me but that guy over there was horrible to me, and he can’t know I'm here by myself or god knows what will happen. So please please pleaaase help me.” You whisper to the significantly larger male next to you. He says nothing in response and looks over your shoulder at your ex.

“Fine. But you owe me another drink.” He says in a gruff, deep voice. You spring up from your sitting place and fling yourself on him for a hug, “Oh thank you, thank you so much!” When you come to your senses you push yourself off him while muttering an apology, to which he just shrugs. “Oh, and by the way my name’s-”

“Y/N! Hey doll, what’re ya doin here?!” There it was, the dreaded moment you had been waiting for. The stranger sees the discomfort in your eyes, and he immediately puts a comforting hand on the small of your back. He had been nicer to you in two minutes than your ex had been in two years.

“Oh? What’s this doll? Had to get a rebound guy to get over me huh?” He coos in a sickly-sweet voice that just made you deflate even more. “I-I-”

“Aw, all choked up to see me too. How sweet!” The stranger could watch any longer before he stood up showing his heroic body in all its glory. You didn’t notice it before, but he was attractive, very attractive, standing at about 6’7 and a massive build, he was practically a god.

He steps in front of you in a protective manner, now towering over your ex. You see the life leave his eyes at how much larger the male is.

“What you had to get a bodyguard to protect you cause you’re so scared of me? Tch whatever have her, she’s a worthless whore anyways.” The statement makes your fists curl around the back of his shirt as tears well in your eyes.

At this point the whole bar has gone quiet at the scene, the stranger gently removes your clinging form before he roughly grips your ex by his collar and personally escorts him outside. With him screaming and kicking like a toddler with a tantrum. He throws him out the door watching him land on the hard concrete with a thud before speaking,

“If you ever so much as look at her again, your ass is mine.” Unsure of why he felt so obligated to stand up for you, he shakes the feeling, hearing the entire establishment clapping with pride for the man.

“You are a lifesaver!!! I can’t tell you how thankful I am! Um excuse me can I get another one of whatever he’s having?” You ask the bartender.

“S’no problem. S’what heroes do.” He says while sitting back down.

“H-hero?” Your voice shrinking a bit as you speak. To that he turns to smirk at you before saying, “Katsuki Bakugou, or better known as Dynamight, nice to be of service pretty.” He watches your jaw fall open as he takes the first sip of his new drink. Oh he’s gonna love having you around.

[ladyfromaspookyforest]

Wheeler/Byers Wardrobe Analysis

Season 1 Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Hello, hello, hi. Continuing this journey through Stranger Things attire. And I want to preface quickly that I don’t have an agenda. I’m just examining the clothes as I go and seeing what I think they tell me. I'm not digging for evidence of anything.

Anyway, Episode 3! Nancy gets home from Steve’s house and is confronted by Karen in her lil PJs. Do these PJs seem familiar? Oh yeah. They look like Nancy’s.

The next day at school, post red-stripe-shirt-at-the-pool-party, Nancy’s wearing another light sweater, a common Nancy top choice. But this one’s intriguing to me because while it contains the same two colors she usually wears, they’re darker. Darker blue and more of a brick red, but they’re small stripes on this delicate sweater. We also saw her wear stripes for the first time in the aforementioned red shirt. So this outfit here feels like a compromise between what she chose for Steve for the party and what she usually chooses for herself because of the stripes. The darker colors I think are not intended to reflect Steve in any way, but Nancy's state of mind. She's worried about Barb and feeling conflicted about the whole experience of losing her virginity. She's paranoid right off the bat when she walks into school that people are looking at her differently. She's feeling weighed down and the shades of her colors are reflecting that.

I was also immediately into Steve’s shirt here because Steve, for the entirety of this season, wears blue. But here, and only here, the blue has shrunken down to a few stripes on this shirt. This shirt which also contains pastel pink, a color Nancy is often wearing or surrounded by, but not wearing in this scene. Both Nancy and Steve are wearing clothes that reflect one another more than usual, and yet they don't quite match. This is the most I can recall Steve ever reflecting the Wheeler color palette (I'll find out if I'm wrong later). This is also the day after he slept with Nancy. So I think his choice to wear Wheeler colors afterwards shows that he feels closer to Nancy while her choice to wear darkened colors shows that she's feeling hesitant and unsure.

Here, Karen has dressed Holly up in light pink and blue (as per usual), but she herself is wearing a navy and teal plaid dress with black tights. She wears plaid a lot, but in order to bring a casserole to Joyce (a mourning behavior), she’s donned darker colors than usual. This scene already felt uncomfortable to me, like Karen doesn’t know how to behave because she’s giving Joyce a casserole (like when someone in the family has died) even though Will is not yet believed to be dead. Maybe this isn't unusual. I apologize for my ignorance on casserole etiquette, but it’s an awkward moment there at the door. And Karen’s wardrobe choice here makes me feel even MORE like she doesn’t know how to behave. She’s intentionally dressing less light and happy than usual but not in the official mourning color. And dressing Holly the way she usually does really shows this juxtaposition because Karen often matches Holly to herself. So this is like looking right at how Karen usually presents herself next to how she's choosing to now.

This episode puts Mike in this green and blue striped shirt. In the first photo, he’s talking with El before he goes to school. El is dressed in Mike’s clothes, a navy pullover and grey sweatpants. Blue is Mike’s color and grey is a neutral he (and Nancy) is often seen in. For example, in earlier episodes, both Mike and Will wore shirts with blue and yellow stripes, but Mike’s was also grey and Will’s was also brown. Grey is a cool toned color, a Wheeler neutral, while brown is a warm, earthy Byers neutral. So El’s outfit is screaming I BORROWED THIS FROM MIKE WHEELER in every way. She then spends the day wandering the Wheeler house and examining everything. She’s basically trying to figure out what it means to live like a Wheeler, to have grown up in this home with these parents and with blood siblings. She’s trying to put herself figuratively in Mike’s shoes while literally wearing his clothes.

And back to the Wheeler vs Byers neutrals, I really love that Mike is wearing this tan jacket when he goes to school. It’s a very Byers jacket. It’s got corduroy on the collar and brick accents on the inside. In the screenshot here, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are being harassed by the bullies making fun of Will. They also trip Mike despite the fact that it’s Will they’re mocking. Basically, they’re treating Mike as a proxy Will while Mike is wearing this Byers-esque jacket. He’s also wearing the jacket for the remainder of the episode as the party hunts for Will (and as they witness his "body" being pulled from the quarry), but he was not wearing at home with El while his attention was on her.

I forgot to mention this jacket in my last post, but Mike also wore it in episode 1 while the bullies were harassing him. And he leant the jacket to El after they found her in episode 2.

She's wearing this big yellow shirt (Will's color) and Mike puts her in this Byers-y jacket. El isn't really El to him yet in this scene. She's some strange girl they found while looking for Will who Mike keeps around in hopes of her helping him find Will. So in addition to El wearing Mike's clothes in episode 3 and acting like Mike, in episode 2, she's wearing a Will-coded outfit and being valued for her connection to Will. The wardrobe for El this season has no reflection whatsoever on who she is as a person because she doesn't know yet nor do the other characters. So when Mike was at home with her in the red shirt, no jacket (episode 2), that moment felt more about the two of them getting to know each other outside of how she can help him find Will.

Joyce has been wearing this same outfit since late episode 1. Jonathan also wore the same outfit during both episodes 1 and 2, but now he’s changed his clothes and what he has changed into…is the same shirt he was wearing in the flashback in episode 2. Obviously, the episodes that go by without Joyce or Jonathan changing their clothes speak to how panicked by Will’s disappearance they are. But once he does change his clothes, the choice for Jonathan to put on the same shirt he was wearing in a memory he was just reflecting on is really curious. And by “choice,” I mean on a grander, show-level. Not Jonathan’s choice. He’s seen snagging this shirt up without even glancing at it and tossing it on as he gets out of bed. The costume department chose to put Jonathan back in this shirt we’d just seen him in via flashback for a reason. I find it notable that Jonathan changes his shirt again before going to school. He just spent two days in the same outfit and now he cares enough to change twice in the same morning? Weird. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe it reminded him of that same moment just like Should I Stay or Should I Go coming on in the car did, and maybe it was too hard for him to think about it again. So he changed. Or maybe it felt too light for the mood he was in.

During the Steve Hulk Camera Smash scene, Jonathan is wearing black and a dark grey or dark denim button-down. Dark colors. Darker than usual. The polar opposite of the first shirt he put on that morning. He usually has more earth tones in his wardrobe than this and I think this choice is less about mourning, as the dark colors could indicate, as it is about guilt. This is because even after he believes Will to be dead, Jonathan doesn’t start wearing blacks. This scene, instead, takes place after he does his stalker photo shoot of Steve’s party. So the dark colors are very likely a reflection of how he feels inside, having done something dark. He took photos of other people, including Nancy undressing, without consent and despite the fact that we know this is not what he set out to do, he did do it, spur of the moment. Now in the aftermath, he feels guilty and ashamed.

EPISODE FOUR

I had to lighten this one a lot to really see what the colors are. Karen is still wearing the dark plaid dress from the last episode while Ted is wearing what appears to be a white button down with red and blue checkprint. Very Wheeler. He’s continuing to present himself in the Wheeler fashion while Karen is struggling with figuring out how to present herself. When she got dressed, Will was missing. Now, in this screenshot, Will has been declared dead and Barb is missing. Karen doesn’t know how to be there for her children (or for Joyce earlier) and the way she dresses in this episode reflects that she feels like she can’t continue on the way she has been. (side note: check out the couch and throw pillow. Wheeler pastels)

Here’s Karen later (sorry I don't have a full body shot). She’s wearing a cream turtleneck, a dark grey vest, and black pants (out of the shot). Her prints, her checks, and her pastels are gone.

Nancy and Steve fight. She’s wearing pink (just pink) and he’s wearing blue with maroon stripes. Going back to what I said about their outfits in the previous episode, it looks like Steve is still sporting Nancy’s influence while she has dropped his. This is the first time we’ve seen Nancy in a solid color with no prints or detailing, her PJs aside. Even her purple sweater from E2 contained threads of other colors. So she’s in solid pink, she says to Steve, “I can’t believe you,” then she walks away and leaves him in the alley. And WHAT DOES THIS PARALLEL?

I’ll get to that scene later, but for now, I’m intrigued by the fact that both Steve and Nancy are wearing grey in the season 2 fight whereas in this season 1 fight, they’re wearing opposing colors, though Steve’s shirt contains bits of Nancy’s coloring, which shows that he’s more invested in Nancy than she is in him. This is probably a contentious point to make for season 1 considering he’s being a douche in this scene and making Barb’s disappearance about himself. BUT I stand by the fact this his feelings for Nancy are stronger than her feelings for him, even here, despite the fact that he’s lousy at showing it and his mind is in the wrong place.

In season 2, they’re actually on a lot more common ground. Maybe this is why they’re wearing the same color. There’s no more I’m-right-you’re-wrong. There’s only this-isn’t-working. But back to season 1.

I hate to say this, but this shot here is giving me hella “It’s twins and one’s a boy and one’s a girl!” vibes. Which is kind of irrelevant. What actually matters is that El is wearing Nancy’s clothes. She’s wearing a wig and yet another article of Wheeler clothing, presenting herself as a different Wheeler. She even had short hair when dressed in Mike’s clothes and long hair here dressed in Nancy’s. It’s kind of like she’s trying out the Wheeler life from both angles.

Guys, I don’t know HOW I never realized how much pink and baby blue the Wheelers are surrounded by. LOOK AT THIS WALLPAPER!!! Plus, with El in pink and Mike in blue and the greenery in front of the mirror, they basically ARE the wallpaper. It’s pink, blue, and green leaves. What is the reason. It basically tells us that this (Mike and this version of El) together equals Wheeler conformity. And by “this version of El” I mean her dressing like someone else and trying to behave like someone else. This version of El is still trying to find herself, trying to fit in (a theme that returns later). Basically Mike + dishonest El or confused El = unhappy couple pretending to be in love (Ted + Karen). Eleven is spending this season trying on other people’s clothes and other people’s lives because she never got to have one. And this image is a big red flag right here because I can’t imagine anyone looking at this shot and thinking “awe cute.” It’s so newborn baby-colored and domestic it makes me gag. This screams that El needs to find herself in order to avoid THIS. This nuclear nightmare.

This also feels weirdy similar to what we just witnessed of Steve and Nancy, what with the baby pink and blue solid colored costuming. Almost like a MIRROR IMAGE WOULDN’T YOU SAY? No, I’m stretching. I’m actually reaching blindly. I have no idea where I’m going with that. But the mirror shot is interesting. If anything, I’d say it ties back to them being a mirror of Mike’s parents BUT I can’t help but think there’s subtext here for both couples about gender roles what with these colors being, as I mentioned, the ones assigned to babies at birth. El will later go on to find that she’s the fighter. Steve will go on to be the babysitter. Defying gender role expectations. Both of these characters are trying to figure out who they are and who they want to be this season while both Mike and Nancy are trying to find their lost friends.

Basically, I’m getting identity crises and Don't Become Your Parents.

And to finish off with the Byers...Joyce is still wearing the same outfit she’s been in since episode 1. Clearly collapsing. And Jonathan Show's-Over Byers is wearing this cozy lil sweater fit to the morgue, which I find especially interesting in this scene here:

Jonathan, in his lil beige sweater, is matching Hopper's uniform. And this is the first time these two characters really connect. Prior to this, Hopper has shot Jonathan down and told him to let Hop do his job. Here, they're talking openly and calmly, and they're talking about Joyce. They are speaking on even footing about someone they both care about (though at this point in time, we aren't sure the extent of Hopper's feelings for or history with Joyce) and they are matching. This feels especially intentional when you watch moments before, when Jonathan was looking at "Will's" body and see that he was wearing a jacket and then the scene after when they're leaving (above) and he's wearing the jacket again. He didn't take it off to come inside, but specifically for this sit-down moment with Hopper.

[prettierthanurbf]

So What?

Y/n walked down the halls to find her best friend, getting the overwhelming feeling she’d be stuck walking into class alone, when she finally bumped into someone she knew. “Oh, great.” She mumbled irritably.

He turned around with a grin. “Well, hello, y/n.”

She rolled her eyes at his cocky grin. “Where’s your brother?”

The question just made his grin grow wider, making your patience even thinner. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased.

She let her eyes wander around the halls to avoid eye contact when her eyes landed on him, sighing in relief, she pushed past his brother and hurried off to Tom. “Hey.” She said happily.

He looked up from his book. “Nice of you to wake up early for once.” He teased.

She laughed. “My parents are going to cut me off if I miss school to sleep in.” She explained.

He looked over her head, his eyes stopping on something that made his eyebrows furrow. “Mattheo’s staring at you again.” He whispered.

She quickly spun around to meet Mattheo’s eyes, turning back around so quick she almost fell over.

Tom helped her stand. “You alright?” He asked concerned.

She put a hand to her head. “I swear if he hexed me I’ll burn the little bastard.”

Tom chuckled. “Now I might just help you with that.”

Before y/n could say anything else, the teacher opened the doors for everyone in the class to walk in.

The whole class was a blur, mostly because y/n was asleep through half of it and hurrying to copy off of To ‘a notes during the other half, paying no attention to the teacher whatsoever.

Tom had to talk to one of his teachers before the next class started, which left y/n waiting outside on a bench alone with a book until class started.

Mattheo, who had grown bored of his friend group, walked off to bug y/n, sliding onto the bench and taking the spot a little too close to y/n.

She didn’t glance up from her book or move. “What?” She asked calmly.

He raised a brow. “No snarky comment? Hm.” He hummed. “Are you feeling alright?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Mattheo?”

“Ah, there’s the tone I was looking for.” He grinned. “What’re you reading?”

She clicked her tongue. “You could check the cover, you know.”

He shrugged. “It would sound so much better coming from your lips than mine.”

She shut her book, her finger holding the page she was on, snapping her head to look at him. “What do you want, Mattheo?” She repeated, this time a little less calm.

He smirked. “Maybe I want to help with your anger issues.”

“Maybe you should work on yours first.” She said back.

He laughed. “We could work on it together.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather burn. Over and over. For eternity.”

He shrugged. “I could make it worth your while.”

She raised a brow. “What’s your angle, Riddle?”

He looked away with a small grin. “There’s no angle. I just think we could help each other out.”

“Have fun finding someone for that because I’m not your girl.” She slipped a small piece of paper into her book before getting up.

“But you could be.” Mattheo mumbled, but y/n had already walked off with all her things.

His shoulders slumped. “Great.”

Tom walked over to him laughing. “Did you seriously think whatever you were planning would work?”

Mattheo scowled at his brother. “It’s not like you’ve tried getting with her. Why is she so difficult.”

“She’s not into like that.” Tom said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Mattheo scoffed. “All the girls are into me like that.”

Tom shook his head and laughed a little more. “Not the one you like like that.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t like her like that, Tommy.”

“Then stop going after her, because I swear on my life and hers I will make yours a living hell if you break her heart or mess around with her for kicks. Got it?” Tom said sternly.

Mattheo put his hands up, a familiar teasing grin growing on his face. “It’s not that deep, brother.” And with that he walked off, another grinning glance at Tom before going straight ahead to see if he could find y/n.

He didn’t see her until school was over, when the clouds were making weird shapes up and the colors were changing from the sun going down, the black lake always looked prettiest at this time of day, which is why Mattheo chose to walk alongside it, also in hopes he’d find a weird creature in the water and draw it.

He came across y/n when he was walking back to the school, she was laying on her back, her head rested on her book bag, with a different book in her hands than she was reading hours prior. He walked over to her confidently.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She sighed. “What?”

He sat down beside her. “So this is what you do after school?”

She rolled her eyes. “Quidditch practice was canceled today.”

He nodded. “Totally forgot you were on the team.”

She glanced at him. “Is there any reason you’re here or what?”

He shrugged. “Just wanted to know how you were doing.”

She pulled a piece of paper put of her robe, handing it to Mattheo without looking away from her book. “You read that and tell me how you think I’m feeling.”

His eyes scanned over the paper. “An animagus? Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Now I’ve got to wait for my uncle Newt to come down here and talk to me about everything.”

Mattheo handed the paper back. “So you can’t go home?”

She shook her head. “Apparently my brothers tore up the place pretty bad and they’re trying to get it under control.”

“So why don’t you just stay with me and Tom?”

She snorted. “Because it’s you and Tom. I swear both of you don’t know how to not argue, especially when you’re trying to do something ‘important’.”

Matthe scoffed. “We do not!”

She raised a brow. “So we’re just gonna play that game now?”

He shrugged. “I mean…”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot if you think you don’t argue with your brother a lot.”

“Just stay with us.” It came out more as a plead than a suggestion, which was not Mattheo’s intention at all.

Y/n laughed. “Beg me.” She joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.” He said sarcastically. “Just stay with us.”

She glanced at him from her book. “If I do will you go away?”

“Maybe.” He said.

She shrugged. “Fine. Just let your brother know so it’s not a surprise or anything.”

“Okay.” Mattheo got up. “Did you finish the other book?” He asked, stopping himself from running off to find his brother so he could talk to y/n some more.

She looked up at him. “Yes. I had most of my classes to read through it.”

“How long have you had this one?”

“Since lunch. Why?”

He grinned. “No reason, no reason.”

“Why?” She repeated, this time sternly.

Mattheo looked down at her. “You’ll find out.” He winked at her before running off to find Tom.

When Spring break rolled around, y/n, Tom, and Mattheo went to Tom and Mattheo’s mansion they inherited when their dad mysteriously passed away.

Y/n explored a little since it was a bit of an upgrade from where the Riddle brothers were staying when she last stayed with them.

She stepped into a dark ish bedroom with lots of books. She walked over to the blinds and pushed them open so she could get a better look in the room.

“I usually like the curtains closed.” Mattheo said, scaring the shit out of y/n.

She turned to him with a hand over her heart. “Warn a girl next time, Mattheo!”

He laughed. “Sorry, sorry.”

She continued to look around. “You know, your room is the darkest one in this whole house. And the most gloomy.” Her eyes landed on the bookshelves. “Except for the books. They’re gorgeous.”

He chuckled. “You can go ahead and take some if you want. I’ve read all of them so I don’t really care.”

She raised a brow before laughing. “You’ve read all these? Like actually, actually? You’re not screwing with me?”

He shook his head. “Is that a surprise?”

“Yes! In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you open a book.”

“You don’t spend any time in the library.” He stated. “That’s where I am during my free time.”

“When you’re not walking around the lake.” She said.

He laughed. “You stalking me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mattheo. I’ve seen you walking around like a loner because I spend most of my time by the lake. It’s where some of the hot guys at our school swim so it’s a pretty good view.”

Mattheo clenched his jaw before letting out a forced laugh. “I forgot you like staring at strangers who are half naked.”

She shrugged. “If they’re hot, they’re hot. I gotta stare.”

“You’re not like… staring at them like that, are you?” He laughed. “Cause that would be weird.”

“Oh, like how you look at me?” She said, raising a brow as a grin pulled at her lips.

He chuckled. “Now, darling, I think you’re just seeing things.”

“Oh?” She asked, walking over to him. “So if I were to take my sweater off you’d keep looking at my eyes?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, I think a lot of people would look, honestly…”

She raised a brow. “If your brother was changing you’d look at his chest?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Obviously not.”

She nodded. “But you’d have a problem looking in my eyes instead of at my chest?”

“Well you’re not my sister so I can look.”

“Well now you just sound like a creep.” Y/n teased.

Mattheo scowled. “Well now you’re not being fair.”

“Oh no?” She grinned, unzipping her hoodie and sliding it off her arms. “My eyes are up here, Mattheo.”

“Screw this.” Mattheo mumbled annoyed. He cupped y/n’s face gently before pulling her in and pressing his lips against hers.

She pulled away for air after what felt like a short time period. “You do that to all the girls who try to take their sweater off?” She asked dumbfounded.

He shook his head and laughed, his hands still cupping her face. “You’re so blind sometimes, y/n.”

She raised a brow. “And you’re not?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“You sound unsure.” She teased. “But you are.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling his hands away. “You are more than I am.”

“I’ve been in love with you since I met you.” She said quietly. “And you never noticed.”

He grinned. “So the flirting was getting to you?” He teased.

“I’ll cut your throat.” She said quickly.

He chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.” He pulled her in for another kiss, pulling away when he heard footsteps getting closer to his room.

She quickly pulled back and stood by the bookshelf, getting a book off the shelf quickly. “What’s this one about?” She asked calmly.

Matthe cleared his throat. “Uh, uhm… werewolves.” He said after clearing his throat.

Tom knocked on the door frame. “Hey, there’s hot water on the stove right now. I’ve got to stop by the market to get some more stuff for dinner. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Mattheo grinned at y/n as Tom walked off to get his shoes on and leave for the market.