#what a prestigious resume!

[jethrowest]

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

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Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It’s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.

[stupid-neko]

Reposting this au

Resume:

The fae Prince has been captured by the human king, yet he shortly manages to escape.

Unfortunately his wounds were quite heavy since they weren't made by simple human weapons.

The young lady who fled away from home cause her parents wanted to marry her off. Has a weak personality yet on impulse she can be quite the trouble maker, she didn't wish to marry in the first place, especially with the young priest who happens to be a mean childhood acquaintance.

As she managed to flee quite far with the help of stolen goods from her home, she ended up living in a small abandoned cottage( which is actuallybetween the Briar Valley and human Kingdom territory).

Yet as the days passed she one day woke up with a stranger trespassing her home! The unknown man almost killed her on the spot yet due his dire injuries he fell unconscious before he could strike.

What shall she do ?! All I can say is that they

somehow end up living together for a while lol

+ comic page explanation:

this takes place a few day later after Malleus left(the briar valley knights found him so he managed to be treated properly and return home) our FM finally had been freed by the burden of sheltering Hornton (she doesn't know his real identity) only for her ex-fiancé to find her ! why keeps the young priest who happens to be from a prestigious family being so insistent on marrying this countryside pumpkin??

[throwaway-yandere]

FLAWLESS (Yandere!Various Genshin/Reader)

A/n: This is a complete interactive fic w/ CGs! There’s an HP system and 4 possible endings (yandere!Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Kazuha). This is my final fanfic and I really put my best effort into drawing and writing this. Have fun!!! Your choices matter so read the evidences properly and try not to get a bad ending hahaha. (Pls answer this poll after and feel free to send me memes about who you got hAHHAHA)

Unreliable Synopsis: (Danganronpa!Genshin AU) If this is your last dance as an idol, then you do not want it. No. You’ll make the real criminal sing instead.

CW: yandere themes, blood, murders (well duh ansy–), and brief mentions of suicide.

Kazuha frowned. "For (L/n) (Y/n), this whole ordeal must seem like a flawless crime."

"They don't know the murder weapon, the suspects— no nothing." Kaveh sighed.

Alhaitham interjected. "Indeed, but the real questions will begin in a moment."

Words punctured the air in nameless accusations. Each time people enter this room, only distrust looms acting both as a safety blanket and suffocating plastic. You stared at the people left. One, two, three, four, five... You clenched your fist, and all those fingers pointed back at you. 

The sixth. 

There are only six survivors left.

"Say, (L/n) (Y/n)." Your Akademiyan companions stared at you as Kunikuzushi’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

You gulped.

The Teyvat Akademiya. Home only to the most renowned student of their craft. The faculty carefully picks out select groups of students to be their new freshmen- and it can only be counted by hand how many had declined such a generous offer. It was a government state university, but it was also a golden ticket to knowing people from high places.  

Each student was known for contributing something in their fields of interest. In fact, both your adoptive siblings were alumni of this prestigious school. Your brother Aether was a famous "adventurer" (as he loved to call himself instead of an artifact-obsessed archeologist) whereas your sister Lumine was a remarkable swordswoman with a straight-edged track record. Even your older friends, Dainsleif, and a certain glasses-wearing individual you had forgotten the name of were graduates and now boast incredible resumes befitting of an Akademiyan. Each alumnus you've met wasn't someone any person with a head on their shoulders would dare disrespect. 

But that was not the reason for your schoolmates’ evident intimidation.

“Allow them a moment to process,” Alhaitham scoffed. “The Body Discovery Announcement was approximately 2 hours ago. It’s challenging for individuals from the entertainment industry such as them to comprehend complicated matters in a few seconds.”

“I would’ve fainted at your rare attempt at empathy if it wasn't obviously pointed,” Kaveh scoffed before turning to you with a soft stare. “(Y/n), don’t listen to these two, I’m sure we can find out if you’re innocent or not later.”

You gave a short nod of assent.

Tragically, murders had become the norm for college students like yourself. No one has flinched at Kaveh’s grim mention of a suspect lurking by and none had the insanity to deny what had occurred.

It began when you first woke up in one of the Akademiya's classrooms. You stirred awake on a desk near Shikanoin Heizou, the "Detective Prince". He was a famous figure, so you instantly believed him when he said you were both hauled into this location against your will. You were enthused by his infectious desire to uncover whatever was behind the “kidnapping” you found yourselves in. He told you not to worry, that despite the barred windows and inaccessible exits, you'd both "probably" find a way out.  As you both wandered around the area, you found fourteen other students (some familiar faces, some not as much). For a brief moment of hope, everyone thought escape was possible. 

That was until a certain cold-eyed puppet entered the scene.

A heartless puppet you’re sure was waiting for everyone just under that elevator.

“Is… Is this everyone?” You asked like a mouse, frightened as your eyes darted for any hints of twinned cyan hair. Nothing about your recent behavior had gone unnoticed.

Senior Faruzan is missing…

Yoimiya frowned, grabbing your hand for comfort. “(Y/n)…”

Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Enough of this dumb ohhh boohoo exhibit. Let’s go.”

The most mysterious of the bunch left for the stairs immediately, punching the button on the elevator to its ground floor. Yoimiya huffed, muttering complaints about Kuni’s behavior while the three other men followed her silently. No one took the stairs two at a time and walked at a snail’s pace. A clear indication that no one wanted this to occur. 

And just like in the previous cases, Kazuha’s eyes were on you the entire time but spoke nothing of this behavior.

The elevator door opened. You looked at the camera above it. If the Shogun's words are to be trusted, then the outside world is watching your every move like reality TV.

If that's the case, might as well give them a show.

Kunikuzushi stepped aside, royally ushering everyone— and specifically YOU— in.

“Idols first.”

Everyone entered the trial room. If the mood from earlier was tense, it is worse now that you’re inside. Stepping into the cold room makes the situation all the more real.

There is an execution waiting to happen, but without a hint if it’ll be “us” or “them”. Every bright person inside the room here had previously partaken in 4 of these court sessions by force. Since no one can exit the premises nor contact the outside world, the only key out was to kill and avoid getting caught. 5 people had attempted to commit murder, and considering how you’re still breathing, none of the “blackened” had succeeded in getting their way.

How… How did it come to this? 

You enrolled in the Akademiya in hopes that you'd also find the subtle clues as to why Aether went missing, this wasn't in your plan.

Getting roped into this killing “game” was on no one’s to-do list. You received an invitation to enroll in the Akademiya because of your stark idol career, although your siblings being famous alumni may have greatly increased your chances of receiving that privilege. You would’ve thrown that paper into the fire if you knew you’d get dizzy upon arriving in the Akademiya and will wake up in such a heartbreaking dilemma. Hearing from a grapevine, you discovered that Kaveh was invited for his architectural drafts, Kazuha for his poems and a bit of swordsmanship in his repertoire, Yoimiya for her firework shows, and Kunikuzushi?… You don’t know. But you are wholly aware as to why Alhaitham is here as your senior— you were there when he opened his letter after all.

The “mascot” is yet to make her entrance. So, as “obedient” students, you’ve uncomfortably shuffled to the places you were meant to stand. Bile rose inside your throat as you looked at the last five students excluding yourself circling the room— with Faruzan’s crossed-out portrait to your right while Kamisato Ayaka’s on your left. It would appear that most of the dead students were on your side and the closest breathing person next to you was Kunikuzushi, who was two photographs away.

Alhaitham, Amber, Tighnari, Ajax, Albedo, Kamisato Ayaka, You, Faruzan, Xiao, "Kunikuzushi", Kaveh, Cyno, Yoimiya, Layla, Yunjin, Kaedehara Kazuha, and Shikanoin Heizou.

The deceased faces had been crossed out in bright violet paint, a nauseatingly unsubtle reminder that only six remained. Yet, the one that was meant to sit towering above was missing.

“… Where’s The Shogun?” Kazuha asked.

“Ah, so you do have a voice. And here I was about to call you a cricket. I thought our poet lost his words, considering how the previous trial ended,” Kunikuzushi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Just wait and see.”

You sighed, hoping it was quiet enough for Kuni not to have heard it. 

The last trial broke everyone’s spirits and sense of camaraderie the most. Before trials, the puppet gives everyone an incentive to kill. In the Ayaka-Heizou murder case, each student was given a videotape that raised more questions than answers. Yours was a clip of Lumine, your fellow theater actors, and idol mates congratulating you for your enrollment before it cuts off to a scene of your home burned to cinders. As for Ayaka, hers was a short-lived message of her older brother asking her to come visit the clan for Thoma’s upcoming birthday— before it cuts to a gruesome scene of her brother fatally wounded on their living room floor. 

“Find out what happens once you graduate!”... and then the tape ends.

Whoever was the mastermind behind this killing, you had to admit, they were an expert in psychological torture. And unfortunately for everyone, Ayaka was a smart individual— killing the most trustworthy student, Heizou, to cover her tracks better. She put up quite the fight in manipulating everyone to think that you and Kaveh were possible culprits.

You even got into an argument with the calmest person around. Kazuha was “convinced” that Ayaka was right, which led to you two entering an incredibly heated argument that left him depressed with his rejected apology. You were on "good terms" with him before, that being he would always offer to cook food and accompany you often. 

… Perhaps that was a good thing. Discreetly, you thought he strangely knew you to a degree that makes you far from comfortable. It still bugs you how he knew you all too well and yet you know nothing about him other than his aspirations: traditional Inazuman poetry writing with a bit of karuta on the side.

Maybe he used to be a big fan of yours? Even so, the foundation of your music, choreography, and persona was weaved through a tapestry of feel-good lies. And yet, he was wise enough to speak your true thoughts before you even hesitated to voice them in your cheery idol tone. 

But that’s not the issue right now. 

The issue on your plate was that you had no evidence to prove your innocence except for the list of school rules on your E-Handbook because you were convinced someone will kill you during the investigation.

You laughed to yourself bitterly. Might as well review those rules now.

You opened the E-Handbook.

As per “school rules”, there are regulations to be had in a murder game, but none stick to you as these three. Rule #10 and #7: A class trial will commence after three or more students have discovered a corpse, and a Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as it occurs. However, a trial will be held if and only if every survivor is present; failure to do so will result in class “expulsion.” 

And the last rule that never left your mind was Rule #8: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

By the end of Trial #4, she did not receive a proper execution. Ayaka was compelled to restore her honor and raised her sword to…

…

… You couldn’t hate her for it. Even though you were close friends with Heizou, you couldn’t hate any of your fellow students. They all had family, hopes, and visions for the future. Each one here was "a fledgling barely out of the nest." You couldn’t deny that you would’ve done the same.

"Since the Shogun isn't here yet, let's get a headstart," Kaveh gripped the court fence, eyeing everyone with a nervous stare and stiff posture. "What's your alibis?"

Nobody raised their voice initially. You cast a pitying glance toward Kaveh. When it comes to your closest friendships, he comes in second only to Heizou. As someone who had seen the horrors of the media which is essentially a mirror of the world's social issues, Kaveh's one of the few decent individuals left on the planet, in your opinion. In moments of quiet, you, Kaveh, and Faruzan used to chat together, with Heizou periodically interrupting to share his findings regarding everyone's entrapment.

Considering how Kaveh is your last true friend left, you volunteered yourself.

"I never left my room," you spoke audibly depressed, no longer caring that you appeared un-idol-like. "And I refused entry as well. I heard a couple of angry knocks at 9:37 p.m., but I didn't open my door for anyone."

You looked at Kazuha, hurt and accusingly.

You'd never forget how Kazuha called you a murderer. That intense argument made up 30% of Heizou's class trial. He lost his composure and called you a "dishonorable monster". The whole back-and-forth was very much unlike him. After the trial, neither of you talked– and you never left your room unless it was to get something to eat without anyone in sight.

If he was the one who killed Faruzan because he can’t get to you, then you’ll…

"9:37 eh? You got a watch now?" Kunikuzushi pointed at your wrist.

You snapped out of your aggression and nodded, which made him break out in a fit of laughter. 

"HAHAHA!!!" Kunikuzushi grinned, wide. "Learned your lesson, huh?!"

You scoffed, but your ego was humbled and your heart sank at his harsh words. 

Everyone in the room nearly lost their lives because of your time-blindness. It's precisely what made Kazuha suspicious of your motives. You were always unsure of the time, hence, you didn't have the most watertight alibi compared to Ayaka. Before you entered your room to lock yourself, Alhaitham blocked the door with his shoe and handed you his spare wristwatch. He was the last person you saw before your self-isolation.

"Good," Alhaitham said. "And you, Kunikuzushi?"

"Are we going to ignore that angry knocking thing?" Kaveh rightfully asked.

"Let's complete the first task first," Alhaitham answered. "Let's follow the circle; it's (Y/n), then Kunikuzushi, Kaveh, Yoimiya, Kazuha, then I."

"Conveniently putting yourself last," Kunikuzushi snarled. "But whatever. I was napping in my dorm. Woke up when I heard footsteps outside and decided to investigate. The discovery alarm rang off when I entered the nurse's office the second time."

Kaveh fell silent, his face pale.

"I… never went to m dorm that night"

"Oh?" You and Yoimiya curiously said in unison.

"I-I was with Alhaitham, patrolling!!!" Kaveh defended; his arms in the air. "I swear on my life, I was with him! We're probably the footsteps Kuni heard."

He spoke as if it was a good thing with his mouth, but he was whispering that it wasn’t with his eyes.

"Can't be certain," Kunikuzushi threw in a quick grumble and snapped his fingers. “But I think that's probably the case.”

"That makes sense. I mean, if Kuni was telling the truth then that just means there's more chance it's just those two hopping around. Oh, and I was actually on the second floor at the time. I was in the recreational room cause I wanted to get tokens for the cute little Shogun Stall.'' If Kuni’s side comment lasted a month, then Yoimiya's would be a year– but her good cheer is just what everyone needed to alleviate the tension.

"I wasn't in my dorm room either," Kazuha said. "I was in the cafeteria. I couldn't sleep so I decided to fry fish."

"True, I think. When I checked the cafeteria a knife was missing from the shelf."

"We’ll keep your fact-checking in mind, Miss Naganohara." 

No soul was sure if Alhaitham was being genuine about it except for you. And the answer was yes, he was being warily appreciative. Admittedly, you don’t know any of these people before this killing game started, except for one person…

Alhaitham looked away, conscious of how you looked at him.

In all fairness, Alhaitham was closer to Lumine than you and Aether, and he wasn’t your favorite neighbor either. As a kid, he was the type who would leave in the middle of hide-and-seek simply because the ordeal wasn’t “stimulating” to his developing intellect. He had a habit of causing uncomfortable situations just to “observe” your reactions with an emotionless stare. Alhaitham had once given you a sumeru rose with a startling grasshopper to see how you would behave, and the worst part is that everyone knows he did these without malice. His grandmother had to force a sorry out of him for your tears to dry. “He probably has a crush on you, you know how boys are,” was the excuse the old lady tried, but your twin siblings were quick to shut that thought down. You and he were simply oil and water, nothing more, nothing less.

But there were times you two got along. When you aired out loud sentiments regarding how stuffy his room must be, you snatched the book he was reading and dashed up the nearest tree. Despite his grumbling reservations, he was thankful that you taught him how to climb that afternoon. That was the first you saw him smile wider than usual and offered to narrate the book you stole: The Little Prince. 

However, that version of Alhaitham you’ve come to love remains awol amidst this killing game.

"As for my whereabouts: Kaveh is correct. He and I were patrolling just the first floor and exchanging conversation. Neither of us could sleep. We started at 9:15 and ended abruptly at 11:05, when we, along with Kunikuzushi, found–"

"The body." Kunikuzushi finished.

"Yes," Alhaitham said.

Kunikuzushi smirked. From your perspective, the worst part about this was not Kunikuzushi’s inappropriate smugness, but the look in his eyes that mirrored what Heizou used to have— what your good friend used to be. The light in his eyes, his more forward demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and snapped his fingers– it was as if he was copying him. 

Mocking him.

You hate Kunikuzushi. You detest just how much you don’t know why he’s in the Akademiya or anything else about him other than his first name. You loathe how he had made it his job to be the antagonist of every damn class trial. You hate how he looks at you as though you’re beneath him. You despise how much he is willing to withhold vital information till the very end.

Kunikuzushi is like a commedia dell’arte stock character. A Scaramouche. An unreliable servant. You can’t trust a man who said he was moved by your acting in all your filmography only to act like he wants nothing more than to crush your spirits once lives were at stake.

After listening to everyone’s alibis, your intuition screamed from something deep within a place you had begun to trust after experiencing these trials:

Out of six survivors, FOUR of them are hiding something.

“Is everyone present?”

Before you could speak up, a low and refined woman’s voice stole everyone’s attention. All turned to gaze at the long synthetic-haired lady with a katana by her side. She returned the stares with an unfathomable coldness as she strutted to her throne, the silk of her grand kimono touching the floor. 

There she is. The lone audience and judge. The puppet: the Almighty Raiden Shogun. Undoubtedly made of metal and not flesh. Xiao had learned that firsthand when he sacrificed his life in an honorable duel against the captor— but seeking freedom by force was of no use when she herself is capable of the murders she wished to witness.

“Very well. We shall begin.”

“W-Wait, hold up, ma'am!”

The last vaguely extroverted cheerleader raised her hand; her bravery to interrupt the Shogun was acknowledged.

“... Can I share my E-Handbook data with (Y/n)?” She asked, high-pitched.

The medical and criminological technology of this era eluded everyone. Trapped inside the Akademiya with no phones or any signal to the outside world, each student only has their E-Handbook to rely on. It contains information the owner investigated regarding murders and records testimonies made by their peers. A handbook is only “handy” for both people who were hoping to survive and those who were hoping to twist the facts. 

And that offer is exactly what you need.

“You see– they didn’t leave their room during the investigation period– probably worried that the killer might be after them next and they kinda turned into a hikikomori for the past few days. I’m kinda worried they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves on this trial so… So, uh… Pretty please?” The blonde girl smiled nervously.

The Raiden Shogun stared, calculating.

“I shall allow it.”

“Thank you so much!” Yoimiya tapped her E-Handbook as fast as she could, more eager than you were in watching the loading screen fill up.

(SYSTEM: RECEIVING NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA’S E-HANDBOOK DATA…)

(SYSTEM: TRANSFER COMPLETE.)

You smiled at Yoimiya but it came out crooked and jaded. She didn’t complain that you weren’t at your top form today, but she did send you a loud “Do your best!” in her native tongue.

The Shogun walked to the throne and took her seat.

“Now then, let the class trial begin.”

Out like a bolt of lightning, the doors behind you were completely shut with metal bars in her flick of a wrist. In her twisted form of justice, she hammered the circular surface with her gavel.

“Court is now in session.”

(SYSTEM: TAP HERE TO CONTINUE)

[arminsumi]

growing up with gojo satoru.

NOTE: it's a trash draft abt growing up with gojo and he had a crush on u since ever or smth idk i think it's a potential backstory for a fic?? 👍🗑️

you and satoru have known each other since you were toddlers because the gojo family and your family are very close. he was born just two years after you.

growing up, he was the richest and snobbiest and snottiest. but he could be charming if he needed to be. formal when he needed to be. just not to you, his closest friend. his only friend growing up.

satoru greatly enjoyed picking on you. he annoyed you to death. chasing you down the halls while your parents had tea together. tripping you. ruffling your hair. stealing your sweets and putting them above his head once he had hit that big growth spurt and you could no longer reach them. "accidentally" spilling tea all over your new kimonos. bringing bugs to you just to freak you out.

but that was just all the annoying childhood memories that you dwelled on. if you asked your parents, you'd hear stories of how you and satoru were inseparable; jointed at the hip, the one never strayed too far from where the other was. where you went, he followed without missing a step and vice versa. often you'd be holding hands without realizing. you remember your grandparents laughing and teasing the two of you about that many times, and then you and satoru would throw each other disgusted looks and let go of each other's hands — only to resume that fingerlocking a few minutes later. it was subconscious for him to stick so close to you.

dwelling on the bad memories detracted you from remembering all the good memories.

the times satoru comfortingly slept at your side when you stayed the night during a thunderstorm at his house. all the times he stood up for you and faced off with that brat sukuna. how suguru would console and hug you while satoru threw fists with the other boy; always, always emerging victorious and bearing a triumphant, almost cocky smirk at you. albeit with blood dribbling out of his nose. you remember sukuna always picking on you, but not in the way satoru did; he had a malicious way about it, but satoru's teasing was playful and even cute. he was tasteful with his jokes, never falling victim to crudeness or vulgarity, never genuinely offending you.

and satoru's mother really liked to bring up that satoru had a "boyish crush" on you around the ages 10 - 14. she mentioned it at dinner all the time, when he was reaching the ages of 16 - 18 it really annoyed him.

"i did not have a crush on bugface." he would always deny it. ah, that ancient nickname, the one that still got on your nerves. and it came to be all because a bug landed on your cheek one day at the riverbank and you didn't notice until satoru pointed it out and burst with laughter.

satoru was gifted. you know, a child prodigy. he was the strongest. and growing up with him, he always used his gifts and strength to protect and care for you, whether it was physically or mentally. throwing fists with people who picked on you, acting like your bodyguard at times even if a boy simply wanted to ask you out on a date. studying with you until you aced your papers so that the both of you could go to the same high prestigious high schools.

albeit he was a bit enigmatic with how he showed his care. it was in the little things. helping you out the river when you fell in when you were twelve, confronting sukuna while you cried in suguru's arms about what he had said about your family, or picking blossoms out your hair.

that last one was something he continued to do through his whole life. whenever a blossom or leaf tangled into your hair, or got caught on your clothes, satoru would very gently pluck it off. he did it so smoothly that you never noticed he was doing it. though sometimes, you'd look at him suspiciously and ask why he was standing so close to you. he'd flick his brows up and hum "nothing."

[leviathanspain]

hi 🖤 idk if this is a good request? lol but i’d really like to read the ways carmen prefers to be with reader than claire/noticing she’s THE one and not the other way round, maybe there was a little bit of an overlap??? not necessarily cheating but- and how sugar or richie or syd notice that they are endgame

i wanna be yours

carmy berzatto x reader

synopsis: enemies to lovers, carmy likes the attitude he’s developed when he’s around you, far more than being with his girlfriend

part 2

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you knew he didn’t like you.

richie had hired you, after you had walked in with a pile of resumes, dropping off five copies of yours before walking off. he didn’t even get a word in, admiring your style of exiting instead.

he had called you not even an hour later and asked when you could start.

and here you were, a week into waitressing at the bear.

it was supposed to be this prestigious new restaurant opened by some hotshot chef. but you couldn’t be quite sure, chicago had just recently become your home. but quickly you learned the dynamics, except for him, who wouldn’t look you in the eye, let alone talk to him.

“y/n!” richie slammed a hand on the door, swinging it open, “third time calling, where is she?” he looked around in the kitchen, eyes searching for you.

richie looked at carm, who was just finishing a conversation with sydney, “yo cousin! have you seen your employee? her shift started twenty minutes ago!” his shouts drew eyes from the rest of the kitchen staff and carmy turned, sighing slightly as he walked up to richie.

“she’s your employee, cousin. you hired her, you deal with it.” his lip twitched up slightly and richie sighed, throwing his hands up, “it’s shot to hell, all of it!” he slammed another hand on the door and back to the front of house.

suddenly, you barreled through the kitchen’s back door, a bag on your shoulder, impossibly stuffed with belongings as you hurried to the locker room. carmy sighed with annoyance upon seeing you. he turned back around and tried to find something to busy himself with.

“hey boss,” you looked at carmy, who didn’t look up from his cutting, “sorry i’m late there was some-“ you had prepared an excuse! carmy didn’t say anything just shook his head, “don’t wanna hear it, go talk to richie.”

you felt your cheeks burn red with embarrassment as you bowed your head, shuffling past him and out of the kitchen.

“fucking finally! i was beginning to think you thought this shit was optional.” richie spat, throwing a towel at you, “start wiping down the tables for dinner.” you sighed, taking the towel off your chest, where it landed and stuck, and threw it onto a table.

for a moment, you watched as you wiped the table, before looking over at richie, who had his brows furrowed over the cash drawer.

“why does he hate me?” you had an arm on the counter, lips pouted slightly.

richie sighed, knowing exactly who you were asking about. “carmy’s just carmy.” you groaned loudly, “that’s all anyone ever says. it’s just an excuse for him to act like an asshole.”

richie shrugged, “that’s all i got. forget about it and just keep scrubbing, we don’t pay you for nothing, sweetie.”

you blew a breath out, doing just as he said.

“can you please tell carmy that i need friday off?” you hung onto richie’s arm, pulling him as he tried to run away from you earlier. you had been talking his ear off all day about your trip, and how you’ve been needing this.

richie pulled his arm back and held his hands up, “i’ll see what i can do. no promises though, friday night and it’s just me and you up here? we’ll see.” he tried to be realistic in a nice way, although he knew there was no way in hell you’d be able to get that day off.

“we’ll see isn’t good enough, rich. i really, really need this.” you had clasped your hands together to further express your desperation, and richie groaned, “ask him yourself then! im sick of having to be the bridge between you two.”

you blinked, “maybe if i knew why carmy hated me, then maybe i’d do something about it. but fine!” you walked over to the kitchen door, pushing it open. inside, you found the kitchen staff cleaning up. you refreshed your greeting with them before asking about carmy. sydney had directed you to the office, where only a dim light was the indicator that he was in there.

it took you a moment to build up the courage to knock, but the door swung open before your hand even reached it. carmy stood there, nostrils flared as if he had just taken a deep breathe, redness around his eyes, exhibiting his exhaustion.

there was genuine surprise on his face to see you, and you had to withhold a breath, “hey boss.” his blue eyes locked onto yours for a mere second before they floated away, resting somewhere on the wall behind you.

“what’s up?” his voice raised the question and you nodded, “right- i already talked to richie and he told me to ask you, and i don’t know if you’ll even say yes-“

“get to the point.” of course, you should’ve known by his fingers tapping against the door that he was getting impatient. he was important, and constantly busy, he didn’t have time for you or-

“i need friday off.” you breathed, feeling the release of your tension in your shoulders. you almost heaved just as he answered, unsure of what he would say.

“yeah, i guess that’s fine.” he shrugged slightly before clearing his throat. he closed his eyes slightly as your face lit up, “really? thank you, boss. i-“

“can i get past?” carmy interrupted your words and stared at the door, your body halfway covering it. “yeah- of course.” you scooted further into the office as carmy pulled on the doorknob. you felt the edge of the door tap your back, and you shuddered as it swung back and slammed as he left.

blowing out a breathe, you opened the door, eyes accidentally catching carmy’s, who was standing near the kitchen door. you looked away first, still reeling from the interaction in the office. as much grace as you’ve been giving him, it was getting exhausting having to hold yourself back.

“why is he so-“ you struggled for the words to describe your boss, especially to richie. you were frustrated, carmy’s constant dismissal of you, even when you were asking for something that would affect him and his workday, he didn’t care!

“y/n, it’s just cousin. he’s harmless, don’t worry about anything. you got the day off?” richie turned to look at you, your mouth still in a pout, but you nodded nonetheless, “yeah i did.”

“that’s good! just be happy you got it off, hmm?” he tried to be a mediator, tried to be nice and hear you out, but after hearing the two of you express your anguish over the other, day after day, he was getting sick of it. “why’d you ask for it off again? i thought you didn’t have a life.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stared at the ground for a moment, “that’s true. it’s my father’s- was, my father’s birthday.” you laughed slightly, pausing before speaking again, “he grew up here, going to the local theater with his father for his birthday every year. we’d make family trips every year to come back to chicago, watch movies with him in the same theater and share a slice of cake. after he passed, my sister and i were the only ones who did it for a while, but then she got married and suddenly, it was just me.” you shrugged, “and then i moved to chicago permanently, into the same house that my father lived in. and i got a job here.” you smiled weakly, “yeah.”

richie nodded, “yeah.” matching your tone of voice. he didn’t want to speak, letting himself sit with that. you were nice enough, a good kid, and he saw something in you, a little spark just wanting to be ignited fully. he didn’t know what it would take, but it seemed like you didn’t either.

carmy hadn’t realized that he had eavesdropped the entire conversation between you and richie until richie came into the kitchen, slamming the door against carmy, who had stood there, frozen, captivated by your story.

“cousin- get the hell out of the way!” richie barely glanced at carmy, too in a rush to even think to slow down.

carmy looked down at the door as he pushed the door open, out into the dining room. he looked up to see you wiping down the counters. you had a wet rag under your hand, and you were lost in thought as your hand moved in a circular, repetitive motion. you didn’t even notice him as he inched closer, unsure of what he was going to say when you noticed him.

“hey.” carmy realized he was speaking, and as you looked up, your attention. you couldn’t help but smile, this was the first time that you had seen him so still, and so in thought.

“hey.” you returned his greeting, letting the rag go, you turned your full attention to him. he laughed nervously and that made you smile even more. it was odd, how he changed so suddenly with you.

you raised an eyebrow, “is there something wrong?” he hadn’t said anything else, just staring in thought.

he shook his head, and returned himself to the kitchen.

“weird.” you exhaled, watching as the door swung shut behind him. how could carmy go from being the biggest asshole to you, to randomly greeting you then going silent.

you’d talk to richie about it later, but for now you had work to finish.

“claire.” carmy looked surprised to see his girlfriend. it was friday, and normally she stopped by on saturdays. “i thought you worked on fridays.” he pulled her into the office and claire shrugged, “i got off early, just to come see you.”

carmy nodded, “yeah. yeah.” claire raised an eyebrow at him, “i cant leave early tho. y/n asked for the day off and i didn’t realize how much she does so-“ he cut himself off watching as claire’s expression soured slightly.

carmy sighed, “i know- but i’m her boss, im going to have to talk to her eventually.” claire rolled her eyes, “god, i-“ she cut herself off and stood up, “that’s fine, carmen. i understand, really.” her tone sounded irritated as she opened the door. carmy found himself standing to rush after her, but stopped himself.

had he really made a judgement on you based on an experience claire had with you in grade school? so far, you hadn’t mentioned claire to be someone of the past, and carmy had wondered why.

carmy blinked, suddenly getting the urge to rush after claire. but as she walked right out the front door, carmy realized that he had been too late. normally, the guilt would set right in, but as he stared out into the dining room, he could imagine you standing at the counter, eyes shying away from his.

saturday had been a rough start for you. you had spent the whole night before, sobbing at the movie theater. your eyes had puffed up so much that you had to go home, barely able to see the movie through your tears. this time of year was rough for you, especially since your family hardly called. your father had been the glue to hold all your differences together, but it seemed not to have a lasting affect.

when you had arrived late to work, yet again, you had expected carmy to give you the silent treatment, or possibly even yell, but he hadn’t said anything.

except,

“i’m sorry about your dad.” he had looked down at the floor when he said it. you stared at him, shocked that he said anything to you besides the usual, and that he knew about your father.

“how long as it been?” more. he was talking more to you, “uhh-“ you couldn’t contain yourself, “two years. but it feels like-“

“yesterday. yeah i know.” he finished your sentence. “i lost my dad too. a while ago.” he shook his head, as if shaking the feeling that came along with it.

you nodded, holding a small smile that carmy had actually made conversation with you.

“thank you. and im sorry for your loss as well.” you brushed past him, still reeling.

months passed, changing things with time, including carmen.

not only had he become a better boss, but you could consider him a friend. transitioning to kitchen staff had made that happen, including moments that made you think of him as more.

there was no doubt of the chemistry you had with him. everyone noticed it, and sydney had half the mind to encourage it.

“you work so well together! he needs something and you’re there with it! it’s actually insane, like did you guys come from the same planet?” her voice got a little high as she rambled on and you laughed, “what planet would that be, syd?”

she shrugged, “something of greatness. i mean, he’s even said it himself-“

you held up a hand, ending her little ramble right then and there, “sydney. i am not anything like the world renowned chef that runs this place. im not even a sous! i was waiting tables just a month ago.” your hand pointed out to the dining room and sydney threw her hands up, “that’s exactly my point!”

you rolled your eyes, “please stop.” you couldn’t hear her anymore, not while carmy was just minutes from rounding the corner.

“want one?” carmy had noticed you were gone. the rush was starting to slow and you had decided to take a break, not knowing he would follow. there was a cigarette hanging in his mouth glumly, a lighter being tossed between his hands.

“i don’t really smoke.” you answered earnestly. carmy brought the lighter up to his mouth, taking a moment to light it. he inhaled, and you caught yourself staring at him as he exhaled.

“you don’t really?” he sat down, closer than he probably realized. you turned to look at him, eyes hooding as they focused on his cigarette. “mhm.” you answered, leaning a cheek on your hand.

you were reaching out before you realized, fingers wrapping around the cigarette, pulling it from his mouth and into yours.

carmy watched you with surprised eyes, as you took a long, deep drag. you exhaled it, hand outstretched to return it. he took it, smiling as he chuckled.

“i’m quitting.” you admitted. looking at carmy, waiting for him to react. he didn’t, and you laughed, “did you hear me, carmen?”

carmy took another drag, pulling out the cigarette to flick it against the concrete step, “no you’re not.”

“i am- i already talked to richie and syd-“ you found yourself trying to justify your decision until he raised his voice, “no you’re not! i said no!”

you flinched, not used to having him scream directly in your face. he didn’t need to, and so he never did.

until now.

your ears were still ringing. you had been staring at carmy’s side profile for five minutes, as he stared ahead in silence.

finally, “why not?” the pure shock had kept you quiet, but you had built up emotion, and your voice couldn’t help cracking.

carmy shrugged, “just don’t. just give me time, alright.”

your frustration grew with his vague answer. he was refusing your resignation, and now he was refusing to tell you why?

carmy panted quietly. he had been in the office for more than twenty minutes, watching as he phone buzzed with call after phone call from claire.

he couldn’t pick up, not when his head was full with thoughts of you. he knew it was wrong, he knew that claire should be the only girl on his mind, but she wasn’t and he felt horrible.

he stared at the phone, swallowing thickly as he picked up the phone, opening a desk drawer and tossing it in.

ever since he had found out that you had no idea who his girlfriend was, and that her entire reasoning to dislike you had been a lie, it had strained his relationship. but claire had been close to catching onto his disillusionment, and it seemed like she reached it.

he opened the office door, breathing in deeply as he saw you in the kitchen, eyes red rimmed but still diligently at work.

[rhadamanthes]

Medecine. Satoru x reader

word count : 7k :0

warnings : mention of overdose, drug use, SLOWBURN, scent kink, doggy style, dubcon (just to be safe), oral sex (f!receiving), ANGST, fluff, public sex, cowgirl position, happy ending.

Satoru Gojo overdosed on the 31st december. This shaked the friend group like never before, it also was the worst way to start the year. He was discharged from the hospital a week after his admission, a wish from his parents, not wanting the word to spread around that their prestigious family has a junkie son. 

A few weeks have passed ever since, everybody is here for him, trying to lift him up and get his mind on something else. Of course it's hard, none of you are professionals and he hasn't got the treatment he needed. The best you can do is be here for him. Personally, you have never been really close to Satoru, in the friend group you're closer to Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji, and Sukuna. His loudness and obnoxiousness throw you off a bit, but now you feel guilty, was it the drug or his personality ?

Smoothing the part of your hair you knock on the door, you're on babysitter duty tonight, you're nervous it's the first time it's only going to be you and him usually there's other people around. Today nobody else was available. The group went partying and thought it was a really bad idea to bring him in this type of environment given the fact the last time he went, he almost died. Yuuji asked you if you could watch over him as he knows you're not a huge party animal.

The door opens and Satoru welcomes you in with a sly smirk. Taking off your shoes you follow him to the living room.

"So what's the programm tonight you're going to lullaby me to sleep?" he asks, chewing loudly on a piece of gum.

"Actually, no. Suguru told me to make myself at home so... Have you eaten yet?" you ask, taking the tupperware out of your bag.

"Hmm no, i'm not really hungry and this looks disgusting" he says pointing at your food.

You roll your eyes making your way to the kitchen Satoru on your tail. Placing the food in two plates you launch them in the microwave. You cross your arm on your chest looking at him. He just stares at you with a curious glint in his eyes; Not a word is exchanged but the silence is comfortable. The bell of the microwave snaps you back to reality and you give him a plate, going back to the living room.

Both of you sat on the floor to eat on the coffee table, the TV playing some random show. You start digging in your plate and Satoru does the same. You're waiting for his reaction, and you're not disappointed. This man is crouched over the plate, absorbing bite after bite not even lifting his neck, moaning in the process.

"It's disgusting isn't it hm?" you tease.

"Tell me you have more," he says with his mouth full. You furrow your brows at his manners shaking your head.

"No but i have dessert"

He just nods his head resuming licking the plate clean.You chuckles wondering when was the last time he ate at all. Dinner wraps around and you're both dozing off watching the show.

"I never really saw you around" he blurts

"Well i'm very discreet and you're kind of the opposite"

"Maybe you're just stuck up"

"Maybe you're just a drug addict" is what you want to say "Maybe i am" is what you go for.

You spent the rest of the night commenting on the poor acting of the show. You feel like Satoru has warmed up to you and vice versa. Later Sukuna knocks on the door to pick you up, he rushes you because his little brother is in the car intoxicated, telling you that if he throws up on the seat it'll be your fault. You don't even have the time to properly tie up your shoes that he's grabbing your arm directing you to the exit. You quickly wave to Satoru who is smiling at your interaction with Sukuna.

The reason he's picking you up is that Yuuji is your roommate, it makes sense for him to drop you both off at the same place. After a bit of effort and a lot of scolding from Sukuna, Yuuji is finally in bed and you're too. Exhausted, you can't wait to go to sleep.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

A few weeks have passed since that night, you're now the assigned babysitter when the group is out partying, you don't mind anymore, you've learned to know Satoru better and he's actually a great friend, he's funny and sarcastic. Underneath all of that you see clearly that he's broken and dealing with a lot. You told the group that he also needs some alone time as for the past few months he's been surrounded with presence 24/7. Suguru almost burned you at the stake for that but when Satoru backed you up, he calmed down. You think he's getting better and better until one night you come to his place and the smell of weed lingers in the air. The scent takes you to the balcony where he's sitting on a garden chair.

"I like your new cologne" you say through the sliding glass window.

Satoru jumps from his seat, eyes wide looking at you with guilt. You extend your hand so he can give you the blunt. He sighs, taking one last hit before passing it to you. Taking a seat next to him, you smoke on his joint. After a moment you give it back to him. He looks at you hesitantly before taking it.

"I know what you're doing, this method where you only smoke weed to keep sober from any other drug ? It's not the solution" you say harshly.

"And what do you know about withdrawal" he chuckles, taking more hits.

"My sister was a drug addict" you state plainly and the smile on his face immediately wipes off.

Satoru clears his throat in embarrassment, passing you the blunt one more time, you take it, only to throw it off the balcony. His mouth opens wide and he stares at you like you just killed his entire family. You stare back daring him to say something. In defeat he only gets up and goes back inside.

"Come, I made chicken curry" You smile, following him inside.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

It was rare for you to see Satoru during the day you were in class, and following the New year's event he decided to stop college for a while. But today is an exception. Your only class of the day has been canceled so you decided to visit him. It's 2 in the afternoon and he clearly just woke up, only wearing a boxer and a cringey wolf t-shirt. His hair goes in every possible direction and his eyes are hooded.

"Rise and shine darling!" you say shaking the takeout bag that you picked up on your way here.

"You must be god sent i'm starving" he says locking you in a bear hug you can barely breath.

When you're done eating, Satoru looks better already, you're scrolling through your phone.

"There's this place I want to try, a bakery type of stuff, everything they make looks delicious. Do you want to come with me?" you ask, turning your head his way.

"Sure, I crave anything sweet. " he says with an insistent stare and a wolfish grin. You wonder if there's a hidden meaning in his words but quickly brush it off urging him to get dressed up.

You're waiting in the hall when he finally comes out dressed and combed out of his bedroom. Since you mostly see him when he's at home on late nights you forgot how he cleans up nice. He's wearing a grey shirt and black slacks. That's a change from the wolf pyjamas for sure.

"What are you doing ?" you laugh as he searches through the cabinet

"Car keys"

"Oh no need! It's a ten minute walk!" you say grabbing his arms to get on the way.

You lost count of how many girls turned their heads to look at Satoru, your arms are locked with each other, some of them glance at you with pure jealousy in their eyes. You're about to make a comment about that, but turning around, Satoru is breathing heavily, mouth slightly open. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest, stopping in track.

"Do you want to stop for a minute?" you ask in a sweet voice.

"For a ten minutes walk ? What's next ? You're going to change my diaper ?" he breathes, not looking you in the eyes.

You feel even more guilty now. You know his overdose took a toll on his health but you wouldn't think it was that bad. He feels insecure about it for sure. Shit, you should have just shut up. Once in the pastry shop you took a table next to the window, neither of you have uttered a word since his little outburst. You clear your throat asking him what he fancies to break the ice.

"Listen, I shouldn't have talked to you like that earlier. I know you try to help me" he says, closing the menu, taking your hand in his.

"It's fine" you smile at him "Don't take this the wrong way but since the break is approaching i wanted to get back to the gym would you like to come with me?" you ask threading carefully over your words. He purses his lips and you're about to take back your words when he answers.

"Guess I could use the extra exercise," he answers, leaning back on the sofa.

You squeeze his hand excitedly and order from the waitress. When the food comes, you happily taste the treats, sharing with each other. After a moment Satoru sip his drink, lost in his thoughts, you can tell he wants to say something.

"So your sister is she-"

"Alive and well" you cut him off to avoid an awkward moment. He exhales loudly as if a weight was taken from his shoulders. Nodding his head he asks you more questions.

"How did she get clean ? She went to rehab?"

"No, she had it really bad one night and wanted to get clean"

"You can say the word you know, I'm not going to burst in tears" he says laughing to lighten the atmosphere. You hit his calf under the table.

" She didn't overdose, she just had a really bad trip, and then she found out she was pregnant, she always wanted a baby, she decided to make it right for the kid" you say, meeting his gaze. "I'm not telling you to impregnate someone to get over it" you add huffing through your nose.

"You sure you don't want this ? Me and you in the park while little Saori is running around" he says, caressing your hand with his thumb.

You shiver in disgust at the thought of a fetus growing inside of you, hitting his calf once again as he laughs at your face.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

A few days after the pastry date, Satoru hasn't answered any of your propositions to go to the gym. So today you decided to join Sukuna on his training day. You hate to go to the gym alone, scared to look ridiculous in front of everyone, he's an expert so it should be fine. The smell of sweat floods your nose. Looking around you quickly notice a mop of strawberry pink hair, to your surprise you notice white hair too. A smile spreads on your lips and you're on your way to join them but the conversation stops you in your tracks.

"I was breathing like a damn cow in front of her, over walking for a mile, this is stupid I don't want this anymore" Satoru grumbles

"Well you're in the right place but it's going to take some time, don't expect to get back in shape in a week" Sukuna answers, giving you a short glance ,you feel like a deer in the headlights.

"Go fetch a rope we'll start there" he adds, pushing him in the direction with his hand.

Satoru walks toward where the material is staked, while Sukuna approaches you, putting a finger over your mouth.

"I know we were supposed to train together today, but I think it's better if he doesn't know" you nod your head "Don't mention this to him, act like you never heard this conversation hmm?" he says taking off the finger from your lips.

"Thank you" you mutter, before discreetly leaving the room.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Tonight is board game night with the whole crew. Everybody is at Satoru's place, It's been a while since everybody has been reunited in the same place. Yuuji is currently banished from the living room, he is on the terrace for stealing too many banknotes during Monopoly. The end of the round is near and he's giving everybody puppy eyes to be admitted back in, before moving to the next game. He's sleeping at Megumi's tonight but Sukuna still agreed to come pick you up. From dobble to mime games the night has been filled with laughter and funny banters.

Almost everyone has gone home by now, you're chatting on the couch with Satoru when Sukuna sends you a text to come down. Satoru accompanies you in the hall as you put your shoes on. You're about to hug him goodbye when he presses his lips against yours. The kiss is soft, he takes his time to taste you, holding your cheeks like you're made of glass. You don't move, or deepen the kiss. You're dumbfounded. When he breaks the kiss you stare at him waiting for an explanation but he just stares at you with a smile, petting your hair.

"Satoru?" you call in a meek voice.

He shrugs his shoulders, still smiling like a fool, "You were beautiful tonight" he adds.

A warm sensation spreads in your chest at the compliment.Suguru calls him from the kitchen, before you can answer and he disappears down the corridor.

The car stops and you haven't noticed your home yet. You've been in your thoughts for the whole ride, thinking about the kiss, how his lips felt and why he did it? you take your bag from the floor, mutter an apology and reach for the handle when Sukuna grips your arms.

"What happened, you look like shit" he states, Sukuna has always been honest with you, and you know you can trust him.

"Satoru kissed me tonight" you exhale loudly.

"And ? you felt butterflies in your little tummy" he laughs. You hit his arms feeling frustrated already.

"Sukuna! Don't you think it's weird? I mean if he grabbed my ass or just started humping me-"

"You'd smacked him, i hope" you give him a mean glare at his intervention.

"What I'm saying is that a kiss is very intimate. I wasn't expecting that. What would you do if I kissed you?"

"I'm a loyal man so I'd probably have to kill you" you slump in your seat at his words, he's not being very helpful.

"Do you know how many drugs were found in his system that night ?" he talks in a more serious tone.

Your heart clenches in your chest and you shake your head sheepishly.

"A lot, too many, he should have died. He's like this, he takes, takes and takes and then there is the aftermath, don't think too much about it, he probably just wanted to know what it felt like." he says.

You nod your head feeling the tear prickle in your eyes. You have trouble falling asleep that night, thinking about everything that happened and what's about to come.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Sukuna must have been right, after the kiss incident none of you brought it up and things went back to normal. It's Sunday, you're in your bed watching a chick flick. when the front door buzzes. You play dead ,not wanting to move from your cozy bed. After a moment you hear banging on the door and decide to see who the hell is disturbing your peace on this holy day. No surprises it's Satoru, his million dollar smile almost makes you forget that he made you get out of bed.

"Took you long enough" he says, entering the appartement.

He lets one of his hands go to your hair as he scratches your scalp with his long fingers. You close your eyes at the contact, relaxing in his hand. You felt sleepy before he interrupted you, but now it's even worse. You lead him to your bedroom. Getting back under the covers, he does the same getting rid of his jogger and hoodie, leaving just his shirt on.

"Your bed is cozy" he says nuzzling into the sheets.

"What brings you here ?" you say, yawning, eyes fixated on the screen.

"Come ooon can't friends visit on Sundays ?"

"Not when they're trying to knock my door down" you laugh, meeting his gaze "You know I'm probably going to fall asleep, this is not going to be interesting."

"I love to watch you sleep" he teases, fixing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Creep" you mutter.

As predicted you fall asleep a few minutes after. You looked tired for the past few days, so Satoru is not surprised. He's looking at you, the steady rise and fall of your chest, you look so peaceful, getting closer to you he plants a kiss on your forehead, the scent of your hair strikes him, you smell like lavender cotton and vanilla,so sweet. He's obsessed. Hiding his nose in your hair he takes another sniff. He smells you over and over again still not satisfied, he lowers his head into your neck smelling the scent of your skin mixed with your body lotion. He moans a bit, fuck he could eat you whole right now.

He wants to go lower again, smelling between your breast, pressing his nose against your crotch. But he can't do that to you while you're sleeping, you're the best thing in his life right now. You make him feel whole, you make him feel like he can overcome anything as long as you're by his side. He just can't, fighting his pulsions, he settles for your hair, breathing your scent again and again.

When you wake up Satoru is crushing you under his weight, you do your best to push him away, as he groans in his sleep. Damn he's heavy. squeezing you in his arms, he hides his face in your neck lapping at your skin. You shiver calling him out.

"Satoru stop!" you say in a firm voice, sitting up straight.

"Hmmm, let me make you feel good please" he moans looking at you through heavy eyes.

You admit that seeing him like that makes you feel dizzy, and you're always horny when you wake up from a nap but you can't have sex with him, he's your friend, and he's going through a lot right now he will probably regret it, or get too attached.

"No we can't if you came here for this I'm sorry but you have to go" you say fleeing his gaze.

"No, no, no!" he says, catching your face in his hands "I came here for you, it's the first time i feel really excited in a while, I want to share this with you" he adds kissing your nose softly.

"Satoru, I'm happy you're gaining sensations again but it's a very bad idea" you say looking him in the eyes.

"Why bad ? Am i scaring you?" he asks, in an overly sweet tone searching for your look.

"You're talking in the heat of the moment, you'll regret it"

"No I won't, I don't regret kissing you, I don't regret any moment spent with you."

You believe him, and you want to let go hand taste him, but he only starts to see clearly now it would feel like you take advantage of him. Satoru lays your body down gently, kissing your cheeks, throat and collarbone. His plump lips feel heavenly against your skin. You surrender, letting your hand go to his hair, as you shimmy out of your panty. He groans between each kiss until he reaches your crotch. His piercing gaze meets yours and you nod, giving him access to your pussy. He takes the time to breath in your scent first, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly.

Heat creeps to your cheeks at the way he acts, soon enough his tongue licks at your bud. It feels rough against your skin, you squeeze your thigh against his head. After a few more licks he starts to fully devour your cunt, mouth sucking your clit in while his tongue laps at it repeatedly. Satoru moans louder than you do, he really wasn't lying about feeling horny again. His grunts turn you on even more, you start to grind against his face. You're close, after a few seconds you cum all over his face.

Satoru is out of breath,but smiles through it all. He almost looks high right now. You chase this idea out of your head. You trust him. kissing you through your daze, he places you ass up, face down.

"Like this, baby, hm? So you can keep on watching your little movie" he says, directing your head toward the screen. You nod eager to feel him inside after all his teasing and begging.

Without warning he enters his full length inside of you, air is knocked out of your lungs as he immediately starts to pound you. You close your eyes relishing in the feeling of his big cock inside of you. You're happy you gave in, this is exactly what you needed. You throw back your ass on him gripping the sheet to steady yourself. His moans are still loud and obnoxious drowning yours, but you don't mind, you like your men being vocal.

Gripping your hips hard, Satoru goes full force inside of you until he releases his seed inside of you. His back hit the mattress behind you, panting through his climax. He really came fast you think, is it the overfull emotions? the newfound libido? You're embarrassed and won't bring it up for sure. You wanted to cum on his cock too. You lay down next to him caressing his hair.

"I'm going to make you cum again baby don't worry hmm, this is all thanks to you. I wouldn't want to be sober if it wasn't for you" he coos placing kisses down your body to eat you out again.

His words make you freeze, this isn't good, at all. You know what you have to do, and you dread it.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Your belly is tied in knots and your throat is tight. You knock on the door. Waiting anxiously. Satoru let you in a few seconds later. Smiling ear to ear he leans in to kiss you but you turn your head, his lips landing on your cheeks. You already feel bad, clenching the handles of your bag.

"We need to talk" you clear your throat looking at the floor.

"Sure, Is everything alright ?" he asks, rubbing your back, urging you to come forward but you prefer to stay next to the door. When you're done telling him what you need to, he'll probably not want you in his space anymore.

"I can't keep doing this. You and me, it can't happen anymore" you say looking him in the eye for the first time that night.

"What do you mean ?" his brow furrows.

"The thing you said the other day, about being clean because of me"

"Don't worry about that, it's all good" he says trying to put his hand on your hair but you take a step back.

"No, it's not, I may not always be in your life, what happens then ? What will happen to you ? You have to want this for yourself, not for someone else..." the tear well up in your eyes and you want to throw up.

The way he's looking at you makes you want to disappear, you feel like a stranger in his home.

"If you're not planning to stay then go away"

"It's not what i mean-"

"Go away, you're searching for the most ridiculous excuses to leave me, so just go away right now." he says in a harsh tone, your heart clenches.

"Satoru I'm doing this for yo-" before you can finish your sentence the door of the living room slams shut behind him.

The silence is heavy, through all the times you went to his apartment you never felt that uncomfortable. Holding back your tears, you get out without another word. Clicking the door shut you realise that this was probably the last time you saw him. The tears fall freely on your cheeks, you sob, shoulders shaking. You sit on the stairs that lead to the next floor, not trusting your strength at the moment.

From your spot you can hear object clattering in satoru's appartement, you feel like a terrible person, you want to go inside and apologize, tell him you didn't mean it, that you don't want to be away from him, you do, but you can't and it's killing you. If you call Suguru he'll probably make you cry even harder. Picking up your phone you dial a number that you know by heart.

"Yeah"

"Sukuna please" you cry in the receiver.

"What happened? Where are you ? " he asks in a worried tone.

"I'm at Satoru's please come i'm scared he'll do something please" you beg pathetically

"To you? What the fuck happened?"

"No! to himself, I don't know just please come."

"I'll be there" he hangs up

You rest your head on your knees, crying silently. After a moment you feel a hand on your head. You know it's Sukuna, but you're too ashamed to even look him in the eyes. He sits next to you and caresses your back until you calm down.

"I called you a cab, whenever you're ready you can go." he says in a calm voice.

Your sobs have died down a bit, his presence reassures you.

"We had a fight"

"You don't have to tell me." the tears flood your eyes once more, you're so lucky to have him. You hug him close.

"Thank you," you mutter.

After accompanying you down, Sukuna went back inside. Needless to say, you didn't get much sleep that night, or the ones after.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Summer is around the corner, days are getting longer, warmer, but somehow it makes you feel like crap. Everyone around you are planning trips with their friends, and you just feel empty. The group knows about what happened between you and Satoru, not the details, just that you're not on speaking terms anymore. It was hard at first, everybody wanted to know why, but eventually, seeing the states you both were in, they dropped it. you're closer than ever with the brothers, Nobara and Megumi, since you live with Yuuji they would drop by any chance they get.

As for the rest, Suguru doesn't hide his hatred for you anymore, he either completely ignores your presence or bad mouths you straight in your face. Shoko, and Utahime try to tone him down but he's way too protective over his friend.

You haven't seen him since, you asked around for updates but they always stayed vague telling you not to worry. You miss Satoru, you miss him dearly. How can a person you befriend at the beginning of the year make her absence so hard to bear? Maybe it was more than friendship. You think about it often, if you had never said anything would you two be in a happy relationship? It doesn't matter, what's done is done, you just have to learn how to live with it.

You're currently on a walk downtown, to clear your head, and not stay cloistered in your room. Without noticing you pass in front of the pastry shop you used to go to with Satoru often. You stop in your tracks looking at the facade. You kind of want something sweet right now, is it a good idea ? You hate to attach places with people but... you only went there with him, it was sort of a ritual ever since the first time you tried it.

The door opens, revealing a silhouette that you know too well. His eyes meet yours and you feel your heart sink to your stomach. This cannot be real. It's like the word stopped the instant his blue eyes crossed yours. Satoru is standing ten feet away from you. It's the closest you've been in a month. Taking a good look at him, a weight gets off your shoulders, he looks good, as usual, but healthy. No dark circles, clean looking clothes and he gained muscles, his arms look bigger.

You're happy to see him like that, relieved. He's holding a craft bag with the shop logo on it. You can't help but smile, he really does have a sweet tooth. Satoru takes a step forward but you immediately start walking again, not trusting yourself to have a conversation with him without bursting into tears or begging for his pardon.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

"I'll Have a piece of red velvet with a white chocolate chip cookie, a salted caramel and a piece of brownie too please." The waitress takes Satoru's order neatly packing it in a box.

That's his guilty pleasure, even after a good workout session he always needs to have something sweet. After paying, Satoru gets out of the shop, Freezing at the sight of you. Fuck it's been months, it feels like year, and at the same time, it felt like yesterday he was sitting at home with you,cracking the most stupid jokes ever heard.

You cut your hair, you have new piercings too. You're beautiful, even more than the day you left him. He wants to talk to you, stepping forward he's about to greet you, but the second he gets closer, you run away like a scaredy cat. He chuckles to himself at least you are still the same at heart. Looking at you disappear through the streets, He thinks about everything that has happened since that night.

When Sukuna entered his appartement, he pounced on him, ready to throw him out. Unfortunately, at the time Sukuna clearly overpowered him, and with his emotions in shambles he was an easy take down. The following days after your announcement were some of the hardest in his life. He wanted to do everything, anything to get your attention, to have you close to him again.

His darkest thoughts wanted to make you pay for abandoning him, do something irreversible to make you feel guilty. So you'd learn your lessons and never leave him again. When the news traveled to the group, Suguru came by his place telling him he should have never trusted you, he vehemently insulted you but Satoru put him in his place. Despite his anger for you, he still had affection for you and wouldn't tolerate disrespect on your behalf.

Sukuna had the role of his jailor, literally. Every other day he would drag Satoru to the gym by his neck, no matter how much he slept, if he showered or not, through the insults and more. Eventually Satoru stopped complaining and integrated it in his routine.

This being the first step, Sukuna then registered him in an addict meeting, feeling it would be easier for him to talk it out with people that know what he's going through. Just like for the gym, at first he kicked and cried but eventually, he accepted his fate. He truly wanted to get better. A part of him wanted it for you, when his life was gonna get together you could come back ! But Satoru realised that this is the exact reason he lost you, so he started acting for himself. Filling his free time with new activities instead of just rotting in bed.

Weeks after weeks, he finally started to see the end of the tunnel. Summer's approaching and the days getting longer helped him too. He dreads it a bit too. Soon all of his friends would be on summer break, celebrating and drinking their college year away. Temptation will be everywhere, in the shape of a beautiful girl, a red plastic cup, or a rolled up bill.

No matter what he did, you never left his mind, he tried to convince Sukuna a few times to let him see you, but he was always categoric in his answer : none of you were ready. So when he met you outside the pastry shop, his heart almost exploded. He wanted to run to you, cover you in kisses from head to toe, show you everything he accomplished, and finally finally hear you say you're proud of him.

Satoru was happy he saw you, alive and well he wonders if you ever brought someone else to this place, he never did, it was too personal, kind of ridiculous when you think about it, but his memories with you were precious. He came home with a smile on his face that day.

(｡･･｡)　　　₊　

Today is the end of your college year ! The results were published and everybody is passing ! A relief, the summer can finally begin. Tonight, everybody is meeting at yours for a little before party to go to the bar later. The atmosphere is so festive and you're happy to unwind. But you can't help but ask where Satoru is, you were the designated person to keep him company during parties and whatnot. He's he home alone ? Your heart clenches.

"He was at the gym when I called him" You hear a voice behind you.

Turning around, Sukuna is looking at you with a smirk.

"Huh what, who are you talking about" you clear your throat, embarrassed to be this obvious.

"He's coming later, talk to him in private" he nudges your shoulder

"No it's a bad idea, I'll leave before he gets here, thanks for the heads up."

"It's been months, stop torturing yourself, you did the right thing. Just talk to him and make your choice then."

You'd be lying if you said that you don't want to talk to him. Ever since you saw him, you debated calling, or sending a text about a hundred times. You never did, never had the courage. Maybe tonight you really should talk to him ? After all it's the end of a cycle it can be a new start. A deep sigh escapes your lips, you need some air. You quickly put your shoes on and leave the appartement.

There is a park nearby, it's closed at this time of the day, but it never stopped you from going anyways. Climbing the fence you take a seat on your favorite bench, it's near a pond, the sound of water is relaxing. You get lost in your thoughts when the bench cracks under the weight of another person. turning your head, you fall face to face with Satoru. Your heart jumps in your chest and your reflex is to stand up.

"No! please, don't run away this time"

You missed his voice, it's enough to make you tear up, sitting back down you look right in front of you. He calls your name softly, sitting close to you.

"How have you been?" he asks, resting his arms on the top of the bench.

You chuckle shouldn't you be the one asking this ?

"Good" you look at him, god he's handsome, he's close and fresh out of the shower by the way he smells like cologne. "How about you? How's... Life" you ask awkwardly.

"Good," he repeats with a smile. You can't help but smile too. You missed him so much. Holding back tears, you hug him close to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I should have been there for you Satoru. I'm so sorry". you sniffle.

"No baby it's not your fault" he rubs your back, talking to you in a soothing tone. "The things I said that night were out of anger. You did what's good for me, you're good. Sukuna helped me out a lot. It's because of you. I'm getting better, I should thank you" he kisses your hair.

Gosh how he missed your scent, still rubbing your back, he takes a deep sniff of your perfume.You can't help but laugh, shoulders shaking, he does too. You break the hug to really look at him.

"You look good" praising his physics, you rub his arms, squeezing at his biceps

"Look at this," he says, flexing his muscles.

The black t-shirt he's wearing stretches around the bicep. And you feel your pussy quiver. Feeling shameful, you slap his arms playfully, for him to stop. You both giggle.

"You look good too, I like the double helix" he says, pointing at your ear. You tuck your hair behind your ear to give him a better look.

"I heard about your classes too, congratulations" he kisses your cheek. You mutter a small thanks, feeling the heat consuming your body.

You didn't know you were that needy until he was so close, giving you his attention. The both of you catch up, losing track of time. Satoru places your legs on top of his, tracing circles over your knee with his thumb. It's hard for you to concentrate, his hands are big and warm, his thighs feel so strong under yours. Your thoughts are interrupted when you see a flashlight in the distance. Shit the guardian. You exchange a panicked look with Satoru, pinning your body down to the bench, he puts a finger on your lips.

Your heart is beating loud in your ears, he's so close, his perfume is flooding your nose, the heat from his body is seeping into yours. Shit you're getting horny again. when the footsteps go away, you waste no time kissing him. you both moan at the contact. The kiss is messy and needy, you're both throwing all of your pent up frustration and desire in it. Tongues twirling with each other as he fondles your breasts in his large hand. At this rate your panty is going to be drenched. Satoru breaks the kiss, looking at you with heavy eyes.

"Do you want this?" he asks out of breath.

"Yes Satoru, please, I'm ready"

"You are baby ?" you nod furiously, getting hungrier by the second.

Sitting back on the bench, he helps you up on his lap, you feel a bulge under your ass and grind against it. He Hisses, squeezing your ass.

"After this, what will happen ?" you can't help but ask not wanting to repeat previous mistakes.

"Whatever you desire, if you want to keep this going it will, if you want a break, or to never see me again, so be it" he says, blue eyes piercing yours.

"I don't want to be separated again."

"Then we won't" he smiles widely, biting at the skin of your neck.

You moan gridning harder on his cock, you take off your sweater pulling his face in your breasts. He wants to do the same with his shirt, but you stop him.

"Keep it on, I like it"

"Dirty girl" he smiles, sucking one of your tits in his mouth.

Each of your knees are on the sides of his body, you stand on them to take the remaining piece of clothes from the object of your desire, Satoru undresses himself too, groaning eagerly. You spit in your hand to jerk his cock and his head falls backward.

"Fuuuck baby" he moans, you forget how loud he was.

You keep going a few times until you can't take it anymore and impale yourself on his cock. You feel every vein, every inch of his skin, you're full to the brim.

"Satoru you're so big" is all you can mutter as you move your hips slowly to get used to his size.

He kisses your forehead multiple times, taking your ass in each of his hands. He starts to bounce you up and down on his cock at a slow pace. You lock your arms behind his neck appreciating the come and go in your dripping hole. Your mouth is slightly agape, he starts to go faster and you moan out loud in the empty park. Satoru's big cock fills you up perfectly, his tip is pushing your gummy walls out and you feel stretched perfectly as he keep fucking into you. The way he's just lifting you so easily without breaking a sweat drives you mad, it's like you weigh nothing for him.

"Look at me," he begs. You oblige, his cheeks are red with pleasure. Mouth open just like yours, you dive in for a kiss, drowning his delicious moans.

Wanting to relieve him a bit, you place your feet flat on the bench, fucking yourself on him. You throw your ass back with all your might, you want both of you to feel it in the morning. His thrust meets yours as he piston up in your cunt. Your excitation is leaking down your thigh and on his balls, the sounds of your two body mixing feels so sinful, echoing in the empty park. A familiar sensation spreads in your lower belly.

"S-satoru, I'm close baby."

"Shit, wait for me doll."

You hold your orgasm as best as you can, clenching around his dick, begging him to finish.He warns you when he's about to burst and you cum in unisson, forehead against forehead, breathing heavily in each other's mouth. His cum mixes with your excitation, running down your bodies. Pulling out of you, Satoru jerks his cock furiously.

"What are you doing? " you ask, hazy from your high.

"Making up for last time, I was lame." you stop his wrist, looking him in the eye.

"It doesn't need to be now we have all night."

"Night?" he cocks his head to the side.

"All summer" you chuckle pecking his lips.

"Sounds good' he replies, kissing you again.

Sharing sweet kisses you realise that this could work out, you feel tingles in your belly thinking about spending the summer with him, and the same complicity you had before you fell apart.

[baldurs-gape]

Gap in the Resume

In a way, Gale should have been grateful to Elminster, the man had pulled strings to get him the interview. Life was all well and good but he did feel a little guilty for relying so heavily on Astarion, not to mention it was setting a bad example that they made ends meet through skills of theft and contract killings. Determined to make an honest life, Gale had started job hunting once life had started to settle a bit and his hands weren't quite so full. Brushing out an invisible wrinkle from his tunic, he waited on the creaky leather sofa. Finally, the door opened.

"Mr. Dekarios?"

Standing so quickly his vision speckled, Gale tried to look confident as he approached the Dean of the school. It wasn't Blackstaff, he couldn't go back there, not after everything but a less prestigious school might just be what he needed.

"Good to meet you, and please, call me Gale." He shook hands with her eagerly and settled on the even less comfortable chair by the impressive desk.

"Elminster has talked highly about you and your skills. It made me think that perhaps you were a little too modest on your CV."

"Yes, well, some things are easier to explain in words than with in on paper."

The Dean looked at him over her glasses with a smile. "Well, here's your chance, Gale. Why would an ex-Chosen of Mystra herself want to teach at our school of all places?"

Rather than say that he was scraping the barrell and needed his old mentor's help in getting honest work, Gale tried to smile, cleared his throat and straightened his back. He'd rehearsed this, it was going to be fine, smooth even."

"Teaching has been somewhat thrust upon me in the last eight years or so. It's a little difficult to always keep track of time in the Underdark. It wasn't a career I had ever really entertained until I got firsthand experience of how rewarding it could be."

So far so good, the Dean nodded along and settled back with a more relaxed posture. Emboldened, Gale decided it was better to throw in some examples to back his words up.

"Perhaps my proudest moment as a teacher was when I took a small group on an expedition towards Lenore's tower and we encountered yet another minotaur - I swear they are the cockroaches of the Underdark - and the six with me made a meal of it." The somewhat puzzled look he received had him rushing to explain. "Before it would have been a lot of snapping and snarling at each other, more blood wasted than drank. Sebastian had a nasty habit of trying to claw the eyes out of anyone who so much as was near him when drinking. Yet there he was, happily sharing the bounty with five others!"

"Mr. Dekarios, Gale-" the Dean held up a finger, "-just what exactly do you teach? I was under the impression you were a wizard."

"I am!" Indignant, Gale huffed. "But you try teaching magic to 7000 feral vampire spawn. Manners had to come first."

"Seven. Thousand. Vampire. Spawn."

Nodding with vigour, Gale's arms came into play as he began to explain.

"We were responsible for them after freeing them. Well, first we had to sort out the Netherbrain while the Gur rounded them up and kept them safe from everyone including themselves. It wasn't like we could abandon them. I happen to take responsibility very seriously. It began with a book club for the more recently turned and those interested and just grew from there." Barely stopping to take a breath, he continued, "Trust me, I wanted to show them the wonders of magic but some of them couldn't even read, a tracesty if you ask me."

A strained smile appeared on the Dean's face. She sat primly, hands clasped on the table between them.

"Did this happen after your status as Chosen was revoke?"

"Yes. Well, not immediately. I spent a year trying to tame the Netherese orb in my chest." At that, the Dean looked alarmed. "Don't worry, it's all taken care of now, it's old news. But for a year I worked heavily on the research of the elimination of Netherese fragments bonded to a human entity. Alas before I could refine my findings and publish, a Nautiloid snatched me up as I was hanging my washing. Now, I know mindflayers don't have emotions in the same capacity but it was downright rude. Then they put the tadpole in my brain."

By that point the strained smile had fallen away and the Dean was outright alarmed, edging away from the table and away from Gale. Off script and caught up in the story, he wasn't slowing down.

"Anyway, you've probably heard of the Baldur's Gate Netherbrain incident. That was me and a couple of others who are now good friends of mine. But try putting that on a resume. It wasn't relevant to teaching magic really. I don't want to walk into the classroom as some mighty hero, I just want to be normal and treated as such. And now the spawn as all mostly settled, I feel I can leave them without fear of any incidents. I did so enjoy teaching them that I thought; why not? I could do this with young people. They'll probably be more likely to singe off your eyebrows by mistake than try to drain you of blood. Much cheaper if you ask me, scrolls of revivify used to make up a good 70% of our weekly expenses."

Tirade over, Gale leaned back in his chair and sighed, glad to have got that all out. A little sheepish at having gone so far off script, he offered a tiny smile. "Do you have any other questions about the gap in my resume? Because I don't think I touched on the mental health of students. Mystra demanded repeatedly that I kill myself. It is safe to say I wouldn't ever be anything but accepting and nurturing of even the most frustrating minds in the classroom. They're safe with me."

"Actually," the Dean's voice was a little breathy, "I think you've been very informative, thank you. I can let you know the outcome of the interview in the next tenday once all interviews for the position have concluded. Thank you so much for coming in today."

She stood and Gale copied. This time she didn't stand close to usher him out the room, a rather large amount of space was left between them. Gale's heart sank. It wasn't the first time an interview ended so abruptly and with such false smiles. Nodding, he turned to the door and left.

Outside, Astarion was leaning against the wall, covered from head to toe for safety.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Sadly, Gale shook his head and deflated. "I went off script. At least she didn't call security I guess?"

"Not to worry. We'll find a place. Hells, we could probably even found it, the Underdark Academy, a place for the unruly to come and be transformed into etiquette experts. What do you think?"

Laughing, Gale bumped their shoulders and sighed, trying to let go of the disappointment that had settled in his gut.

"You say the sweetest things to me, don't you?"

Their hands tangled until fingers interlaced and Astarion pulled it up to press a kiss to the back of Gale's. This job wasn't to be but that was alright. They had all the time in the world to figure it all out. And for Gale to discover that while he was in the interview, Astarion had stolen anything that moved from the school.

[flaneurpastel]

give him a blank paper and a pen, say nothing and let him surprise you

simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

a/n : fluff, i don't think there is anything else to warn y'all about, enjoy :)

words count : 850

after putting it all on his lap, you finally sat down beside him on the sofa, where his arm instinctively came to rest around your shoulders.

simon said nothing, his weary but curious gaze doing the work instead of his words.

"what?"

his voice doesn’t let you indifferent at its low, gravelly tone. you restrain yourself from jumping to his mouth and covering his face with kisses, on his cheeks, his nose, his lips, everywhere. finally, with a neutral face, you turned to face the tv where a rugby match was on.

simon arched his eyebrows. what was that again? he picked up the paper you had put on him, checking to see if there was a clue to the whole enigma you had decided to impose on him tonight.

a piece of white paper and a pencil.

he gave you a confused look before starting to think. he needed to recap it all. he had you by his side on the couch, even though you particularly hate rugby games, they take too long and you never understand the rules despite simon's many attempts to explain them to you. so… you expected something from him before you left. good. had he done something wrong ? the dishwasher had been emptied, though, and he also thought of throwing out the trash before coming to sit on the couch

you dared to glance at simon to see if he had decided to do something. his decomposed and lost face almost made you give up this prank, when you realized that the big ghost was caught off guard by this little joke. you bit your lip, no, you wanted to see how it would go.

finally, it's after 10 minutes that you got up, a pressing need to go to the bathroom. your passage seems to have been long, because when you came back, simon had resumed his usual posture, legs resting on the coffee table, and his right arm resting on the top of the sofa, where your place beside him was waiting for you. and more importantly, what you had handed him half an hour ago was lying on the table, the paper folded in half so that you could not see directly what he had done with it inside.

"I wonder where you get all these ideas from, y/n, I doubt if I'll ever be able to understand you." he said, letting out a small laugh at the end.

"hmm, considering the long wait I expect to see a poem declaring all your love for me in Shakespearean language," you say as you come to snuggle up to him. you take the paper at the same time

"I think I can compete with Picasso more".

a confused smile appeared on your pretty face, and it was simon's turn to restrain himself from covering it with kisses that would leave marks.

picasso?? you thought.

while simon let himself be refocused on his game, you finally opened the paper.

a huge laugh echoed through your living room.

"i hope this one means i'm good at drawing." he says unconsciously caressing your hair, staring at the TV.

your smile was so big you could feel your cheeks hurting.

on the paper were drawn two stick figures holding hands, easily recognizable. one much taller than the other with a simple t-shirt and quickly made pants, and another stick figure in a much more detailed outfit than the other person, you noticed. one has a line as a mouth, while the other has a nice 'C' on the side as a beaming smile.

he had clearly spent all his energy, time, and stick figure drawing skills on you.

little hearts that looked more like circles were flying all around you two.

the very caricatures of you and simon. 

you clearly weren't expecting this, 

"simon, that's... beautiful"

it was now simon's turn to laugh.

"you dirty liar" 

it clearly wasn't one of those realistic paintings you find in the most prestigious museums, and simon may have overdone it a bit on the length of your hair, but it was the first thing simon thought of drawing, the two of you, when you just gave him a piece of paper.

and the thought gave you butterflies in your stomach.

"I was expecting a lot of sweet words telling how happy and lucky you are to have me in your life, though, because it would have been more romantic to show soap," you say anyway to tease him.

briefly turning his attention away from the game, he gives you a look that you know all too well.

"hmm, i can draw something on you this time that you can show to soap," he says in a suave voice.

"oh yeah? i don't know what you're talking about... can you elaborate a little more? you answer, moving closer to him, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

and it is on this note that he took you, a little too easily, on his shoulders, towards the room. 

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER ELEVEN — ALL TOMORROW'S KEGGERS

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: after you visit an old stomping ground to pad out your college resume and eddie agonizes about the what of what are you, you both return to the place where all this mess began--a classic harrington rager. content warnings: written in the immersive second person (you/yours), oc has a name, background and she/her pronouns but no physical descriptions. era typical misogyny, homophobia, general bad bitch scheming. mentions of drug dealing, sexual situations and strong language. minors fuck off. word count: 8.7k

Dear reader,

A while ago, I mentioned that thing that Joan Didion said about staying on nodding terms with the people we used to be. 

Lucky for me and my once-fervent need to be inviolable from all angles, I have a couple of versions of Lacy I can choose from. 

Depends on what I need from her.

The hot sprawl of the community hall drags your sense memory kicking and screaming back to age sixteen. 

Scarlet nails tugged a rough line through your scalp, elevating your hair so high it might as well apply for zoning permission. An acrid blast of Aquanet settled right in your bottom lashes. Your mother loomed over your shoulder in the mirror, her cigarette ashing into some poor bitch’s retainer case. 

“The way they run these things nowadays… it’s a disgrace,” she tutted, but not to you, “These girls are animals.”

That’s gotta be a fucking fire hazard, right? 

“Well, if Lacy’s an animal,” a flame haired Ann Perkins guffawed, yanking a backcombed rat of your hair upwards—ow, “she’s a goddamn gazelle, Glory.”

“First kill?” You didn’t miss the smugness curling around her Elizabeth Arden lips, hunching your body glittered arms inward. 

“No—god, no, I just mean with how graceful she is. My Carol, bless her heart, she’s got the coordination of her father after a slab of Old Milwaukee. You remember I told you about trying to teach her baton?”

“She sent it flying through the neighbour’s windshield,” you giggled fondly, recalling Carol telling you how much of a stupid cooze her mom was for trying to teach her in the first place. ‘Throwing some stick around—who does she think I am, Lassie?’

“Don’t smile,” your mom slapped your shoulder sharply, “It’ll smudge your gloss.”

You scrubbed it off in the bathroom moments later, reapplying a layer of scarlet lacquer you knew she’d call whorish. Too late.

Knocking back a swig of Diet Coke and two rainbow pills, you took the stage to claim runner up in the Hawkins division of the American Teen Princess pageant, meeting Gloriana’s seething scowl from the audience with your own Vaselined failure of a smile. 

The lipstick had lost you the crown, of course. That was the winning theory. ‘If you’d have just done what I told you…’

The chemical sting of Aquanet still hurts your eyes, but you’re not the target this time. 

See, a portfolio of writing is one thing, but the other thing that college applications generally look for is community participation. Volunteer work. Charity grubbing. And gracing Eddie Munson’s lunch table with your occasional presence apparently doesn’t count. 

Just kidding. Kind of. 

Point is, you needed something quick and dirty, yet passably prestigious, with people who would bend to your will. And there’s no one more malleable than insecure high school girls competing in a beauty pageant in small town Indiana. 

“Now, Lacy, we are delighted to have you here helping out,” says Claudia Henderson, a one time multi-title holder (just short of Miss America apparently—‘But then they stopped giving homely girls a pass; poor Claudia never stood a chance,’ your mom had told you) and the kind of kindly woman that loves to clutch your arm while you walk. 

Ordinarily, you’d be repulsed by such a gesture but you’re desperate. 

Before you get a chance to gush falsely, tell her how grateful you are for the opportunity, Claudia cuts you off. 

“But I do hope that this isn’t some covert effort by your mother to get back in our good books—because, golly, well, that bridge is burned!”

Of course. Your mom had attempted to sabotage Tammy Thompson’s performance portion by mixing a laxative into her milkshake, because a shit show like that would make your little poetry reading look positively Carnegie worthy. But she hadn’t covered her tracks well enough and got sniffed out by the pageant committee. So had Tammy, poor thing. Horrible day to wear white chiffon.

Incredible that it was that they were still hung up on, and not the… everything else you and your family had going on. You do a decent impression of cringing, looking at Claudia with mournful eyes. 

“Claudia, I swear, this is all me,” you assure her, “The time I spent doing pageant prep was just so formative—I think I would’ve been a lot worse off facing, well, certain challenges without it. I’d really like the chance to give that back to the girls.”

Admittedly, your hours spent in front of the mirror training your face to look earnest for the interview portion hadn’t gone to waste on the stand during your father’s trial. 

“That is just incredible to hear, sweetie. And between you and I, you’re really saving our keisters because the girl we had helping our hopefuls out with speech prep dropped out last minute!”

That’d be the current debate team captain, Kate something-or-other. She was easy enough to take out—posing as a concerned member of the local Christian youth group, you’d placed a call to her ultra-conservative parents about her hanging out with Billy Hargrove. Which was total bullshit, of course. Billy wouldn’t approach an ex-or-current band geek with a hazmat suit on. A shame, really. The band kids were the only niche that could rival Billy’s baseless horniness. His dream girl could be hanging out behind a trombone someplace, squeezing her knees together. 

Anyway, did you feel great about selling Kate out like that? Honestly, you didn’t care about it too much one way or another. The maneuvre felt very classic Lacy, which was in part a little shameful and in part incredibly satisfying to know that, when it comes to manipulation, you’re still batting at a professional level. 

Claudia wheels you and your elbow around the room, the oxygen thick with sweat and body spray and pageant application forms. A couple of the would-be queens catch your eye–homely girls, as your mother would call them, who were duped into their well-meaning parentals or sisters or guidance counselors into thinking that doing the pageant was a great way to make friends. A boost to their self esteem. A chance to really show the town what they’re made of!

Someone should tell them to run, but it’s not gonna be you. 

“Oh, Lacy!” Claudia suddenly half-shrieks, halting you with a sharp tug, “Meet my special little guy! This is Dustin, he goes to Hawkins Middle. I like to bring him around to meet the girls so he learns how to treat a lady. It’s so important for boys, don’t you think?”

Yeah, start the little lotharios young. You tilt your chin in acknowledgment of the kid, who squints at you from under the rim of a ball cap. Claudia’s attention is diverted by some other poor bastard helping to organize this dog and pony show, but she keeps her hand firmly on your elbow. It’s starting to feel a little like you’re being led around the prison yard. You attempt a tight smile at her son, who’s still looking you up and down. 

“Hey, I know you!” he barks– seems like lack of volume control runs in the family, “You’re Nancy’s friend. You slept over at the weekend. I’m Mike’s friend? I ate the green peppers off your pizza slice…? Not ringin’ any bells? Really?”

“Oh, right,” you lie, having no recollection of ever meeting this child, “Pleasure, sure.” 

The way he’s surveying you is a little much. “So, what was up with that guy?” he asks you, tone dropping conspiratorially. You don’t know why, but you feel like middle schoolers shouldn’t be able to do that. 

“Excuse me?”

“Me and the guys saw some scary dude climbing out of Nancy’s window. Is he–” 

What’s up with kids and just having to say any old thing? What happened to being seen and not heard? What happened to being intimidated by your high school elders? If his mother wasn’t standing right next to you, you’d flip that little propeller cap off his head and tell him to go fetch. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The kid cocks his head to the side. “Positive? Because it sure looked like–”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. –Justin, wow, you’re such a card, ha ha ha,” you slip your arm out of Claudia’s as subtly as a woman breaking into a cold sweat can, “Claudia, I’ve got to dash unfortunately, but you’ve got my number! Let me know when I can come and meet with the girls, won’t you? I’m so excited.”

You’re so absolutely fucking not. 

Footsteps burn a hot trail through that creaking hall, not quite avoiding a couple of stares as you flit past. Of course, since Ray’s great return brought a whole new batch of grist for the Hawkins’ rumor mill, you’d been subject to more whispers than usual. Any move you made was in some way looped back to either groveling for the town’s forgiveness, assuming your father’s criminal crown, or generally being a case for pity or ridicule. Sometimes both, if people were really creative. Stood to reason that the only person you want to see is someone who’s lived with notoriety like that for most of their life. 

Ivana has parked across two spots in front of the community hall, her green Buick gleaming under an unseasonable glare of sunlight. It’s still far too cold to have the top down like she does but she does and she sits bundled in the front seat. A leopard print fur coat, a cigarette, a pair of sunglasses perched in her platinum beehive.

“Christ, girlie, I thought they’d tied you to the stake in there.”

“My escape was narrow, as always,” you smirk, sliding into the passenger seat and tugging your own coat around you a little tighter. “What’s up with the exposure?”

“Feeling the wind whip your face is good for you, especially when you spend most of the day craned over books like you do.”

“This coming from the owner of the biggest bookstore in town.” 

“Only,” Ivana corrects you, as she so often does, “Only bookstore in town. You saw what happened when B. Dalton tried to muscle in on my territory.”

“You admitting to knowing something about that mall’s fiery end, Ivana?” Horseshit bombs and the Russian mafia come to mind, but Ivana just cackles loudly and tears out of the parking lot at breakneck speed. 

The frigid sting of wind on your face does feel fantastic, you have to hand it to her. Resetting your base temperature from boiling, where it’s rocketed between school and home and Eddie and everything. Much as it’s thrilling, exploring this new aspect of your… dynamic with him, on top of everything else, it’s a lot. 

You’re not quite ready to classify your feelings about Eddie without your chest feeling like it’s going to cave in. Every other conversation winds up with your hands all over each other, clumsy in the communication of your unrepressed passion. And it is great, don’t let yourself be misunderstood, you crave it when it’s not happening, and boy do you beat yourself up when you stop it from going all the way but… 

The tape keeps getting tangled. Like you’re playing the right song at the wrong part of the movie. It keeps coming out warped and rushed, and you keep feeling like somebody is watching you two.

You two don’t belong shoved into clandestine corners, making out on the sly. You’d been hiding the things that you care about in places like that your whole life. Your books and records under your bed, your clothes in the back of your walk-in wardrobe. Your thoughts in your journal. Your real face from your fake friends.

Eddie’s like a great, flowering plant that has spread his curling vines into every facet of your life, taking root right at the center. 

He may not know it, he may be playing the part of being very understanding but he demands light and care. And dirt.

It scares you.

But that tearing breeze settles your nerves, and those are rarely settled around Ivana herself. She has a preternatural way about her. She knows just when to step out of the shadows and twist fate so your path gets a refresh. First, your job at the Bookstore. Now, letting you into her inner sanctum. 

Brambles clatter against the green paintwork of the car as you careen down a backroad off of Holland. Gravel sprays as Ivana hauls you up her drive and you catch a fresh smell– to your immediate right, you’re looking out on the still, chilled expanse of Lover’s Lake. You breathe in that post-winter thaw, curling your wistful hands over the passenger side door and she seems to notice. 

“Hell of a view, right?”

The slam of Ivana hip-checking her car door closed is the loudest sound out here. 

“Peaceful,” you remark, following her up the sagging wooden porch. Another look over your shoulder. You were used to seeing Lover’s Lake from another part of the embankment, usually crowded with cars and beer coolers, bodies in bathing suits baying for attention. You’d been one once, trying desperately to look comfortable in your sweltering skin only to sneak off and take shelter in Main Street Vinyl.  

The frigid water seemed more inviting right now. 

Another house, this total slouch of a place, stares right at you from across the lake. 

“Nice neighbors?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Ivana says, shoving the ancient front door open. 

Following her inside, you have to suppress a gasp. 

Ivana’s house is no mansion, but the way she’s filled it makes it feel like one. Under vaulted ceilings, everything seems to be cast in a rich, aquatic shadow. Tendrils of greenery embrace each corner and even hang from the ceilings. Threadbare rugs of once-moneyed origin muffle you underfoot. Chairs of velvet sag and every single goddamned surface is covered in tchotchkes, magazines, scarves, photographs. Even the Steiner piano. You catch a glimpse of the pictures in gilded frames as you slowly follow Ivana toward the back of the house–Ivana with equally glamorous looking friends, dancing at what you’re sure is Studio 54. Ivana standing next to Andy Warhol, a disgruntled looking Norman Mailer lingering in the background of the shot. Ivana on her wedding day. And second wedding day. And third wedding day. 

Your chest throbs furiously. 

You hear Ivana creek up the stairs and you’re not quite sure what the proper procedure is here– do you follow her? Would she push you back down the stairs if you tried such a thing? She’s always seemed like the type. Fiercely private. Only sharing the tiniest tidbits of this rich meal of a life she lived before she came back to Hawkins. 

“Come on, girlie. I ain’t got all day.”

You take your opportunity and scarper up the stairs behind her. Eyes flit over even more photographs as you ascend, a smile of disbelief crossing your lips at the sawn-off shotgun mounted on her wall. Like she’s Annie Oakley or somebody. She could be. It’s evident to you now that Ivana has been just about everyone there is to be. It ought to intimidate you, really, bearing witness to someone who’s so successfully lived life before you’ve even begun to, but it doesn’t. The closeness, clutteredness, coziness of this house lulls you into a funny kind of serenity. 

“I just don’t get you, Ivana,” you say, not entirely wanting to catch her in earshot as you float into her bedroom. Dark and plush, like everything else. A light comes on in her overstuffed closet. 

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Of course, she hears everything. 

You approach the heaving wardrobe, hands running along silk, chiffon, velvet. Broderie, brocade, lace. 

“How the hell do you go from having a full life like this,” you grip the sleeve of what could be one of Ivana’s three wedding dresses, “and end up back in East Jesus, Indiana? I mean you’ve–you’ve been everywhere. You’ve done everything. How can you stand it here?” 

Ivana tilts her head at you from where she sits on the ottoman at the end of her bed. Canopy, naturally. She looks at you as if really taking you in for the first time. You shift a little, from one foot to the other. It doesn’t feel probing and accusatory, not like how your mother looks at you. More like she’s reading your palm.

“I wanted to come home,” she says, simply. “Had my fill. Got tired. Wanted to remember what fresh air felt like, and realized I preferred it to car horns.” 

“But why not, like… upstate New York? Somewhere actually scenic and peaceful, why Hawkins, Indiana?”

“I wanted to come home, I said. Now,” she gestures to the masses of clothes, “You’ve got ten minutes. One outfit. Dig.” 

—

“This is, like, beat for beat my worst fucking nightmare, I want you to know that.” 

“You know what, shoot me down but I think you wanna go to this–I think you’re getting nervous because of how excited you are!”

Ronnie Ecker aims a finger gun right between Eddie’s eyes. “Name yourself, body snatcher. Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my best friend.”

She’s got him point blank on that one. He’s acting a little out of sorts–but, in his defense, he’s having, as Rick Lipton might call it, a total wig out. Eddie’s been invited to Steve Harrington’s kegger under absolutely no pretense (but he’s bringing a pocketful of drugs anyway, of course). Eddie’s going to see the (ex) most popular girl in school there, which’d be you. 

And Dio willing, you two are gonna disappear into some side room where he’s gonna trace his leaking cock against every inch of your silky, perfumed skin while you hiss his name into the air like it’s the only word you deem worthy enough to speak. 

It’s fine. It’s cool. It’s casual.

Eddie tries to shake that thought right out his head under the guise of turning to the mirror and fixing his hair. Fingertips raking into the waves, an attempt to make ‘em look less… or more… he’s got no idea. He’s got no earthly idea. So he huffs.

“What have I got to be excited about?!” Ronnie sighs dramatically, thunking herself into the nearby armchair in Eddie’s room that’s covered in clothes–outfits he’s tried on, like a different jeans-and-t-shirt combination will actually make a difference. “Don’t pretend like I’m not hauling ass to the first party of my high school career so I can be, like, a freak diversion while you two sneak off and–”

Amazing how Eddie’s managed to keep this secret from Ronnie for this long, but she’s got it pretty much sniffed out anyway.

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You, Eddie Munson, you’re gonna stand there, preening yourself in the mirror like a fuckin’ peacock telling me the eye contact you two have been making with each other since you ‘made up’ has been completely Christian-minded? Smell test certified?” Ronnie spits. “I just got into New York University, you little bitch! I cannot be fooled! You boinked and it’s scrawled all over your face in her lipstick!”

“Dude, do not say boinked–”

“You’ve greeted her carnally!”

“--who are we, Sam and Diane?”

“If everybody knows your name, man!”

Look, here’s the thing. 

You and Eddie have been making out heavy, stolen moments in crooks like the newspaper room after hours, under the bleachers, the decommissioned bathroom, the driver’s seat of Eddie’s van, grinding it out harder than a couple of drumline dorkos from band which has led to Eddie wrecking a couple pairs of boxers a lot sooner than he’d like to. (Which you hadn’t laughed at him about–you’d liked it. It was so fucking hot that you liked it that just the thought of you liking it makes his breath snag if he thinks about it too hard.) 

But. Skin-to-skin contact has been… frustratingly minimal, since that night in your bedroom. 

See, it’s like, you get there. Eddie’s lips are edging south of your collarbone, his fingers digging into the flush of your tits through your bra and something snaps in you. You go from rolling those rapturous hips into him (god, fuck, don’t–) to tensing right up, looking over your shoulder, expecting to see a door creaking open. 

Fear freezing the edges of your features, even if your touch is still hot on him. 

“We should–” “... yeah. Yeah. Of course, Lace.” Eddie’s trying really hard not to be an asshole. But it’s hard when… you’re hard. And you, you get him fucking full mouth salivating, forged in the flames of Mount Doom hard. Those tight little skirts you wear are so much more enticing now that he knows what the heavenly enclave feels like underneath them.

Bu-ut.

Your paranoia is working overtime. 

Your paranoia is making his paranoia work overtime. 

Because, what if after all your dancing around each other, you don’t actually want him and you’ve got no idea how to let him down gently? 

Which, Eddie reassures himself, does not track for you. It’d be pretty damn easy to think that your edges have softened with the events of the past couple months, but he’s had a front row seat to how you’ve shed your old edges to reveal different, weirder, more jagged edges. Edges he’s had a pleasure acquainting himself with. You’d have no problem telling him to take a short walk off Sattler’s Quarry if you wanted to. 

Eddie adores that about you, the poor sucker. 

Anyway, Ronnie Ecker. Dead to rights. Like always. 

“If I tell you…” comes the measured grit through his teeth. “... you have to swear, Ronnie, I’m so goddamn serious–”

She hitches forward in her seat, eyes blazing. “Dude. Scouts. Whatever.”

Eddie’s shoulders drop and it all comes out in one big exhale as his rings drag down his cheeks, “GoodbecauseI’vebeenwantingtotellyousobadohmyGOD. Like, oh my god.”

“So full pen or–”

“Be a gentleman, Ecker, Jesus! But yeah, home fuckin’ run.”

“Good?”

His eyes careen back in his skull and he pitches his palms out like a Pentecostal preacher. “Words… evade. Infernal choirs sang. I left a part of my soul in her–”

“Nope, too much!” Ronnie blanches, waving her hands in the air. 

“Okay, okay, okay, but Ronnie– you can’t say shit to her. Promise me.” 

“Why? We’re friends too, unless you conveniently forgot again.”

“No, I know that, I just–” Eddie swallows, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. His voice comes out small. “I don’t wanna scare her off. She’s fragile. 

“She’s fragile? We’re talking about the same Lacy Doevski here, right?”

“Right, the one whose dad just got out of lockup. Fra-gee-lay,” Eddie emphasizes, notes of Old Man Parker, “It’s just… easier like this, right now.”

“Well… is easy what you want?” Trust Ronnie to come through with a gut punch out of left field. 

Eddie’s mouth bobs open to fish out some bullshit answer, but not until his bedroom door flies open. 

“Goddamn, kid, you gotta get the maid in here.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Al Munson props his hip against the doorframe, sucking all the air from the room. He looks better than the last time Eddie saw him, at least, not like he’s three days cokebent and clammy. More like he went someplace and got a shave. 

“If you really didn’t want me comin’ round, you’d tell your uncle to start lockin’ the door. Now, you got something belonging to me– that Stooges shirt, where’s it at?”

A hot line of panic flares up the back of Eddie’s neck. Stooges shirt, darkened on the shoulders from droplets from your wet hair. Stretched over–

“I’unno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Yes, you do, Eddie,” his dad says, crossing the bedroom’s threshold. Al’s got springs under the balls of his feet, moving with that irritatingly happy-go-lucky effeteness. “It’s my lucky shirt! I need that thing–” 

“Hasn’t done you a whole lotta good so far, Allen,” Ronnie mumbles from where she’s bunched up on the armchair. 

“Ronnie,” Al’s eyes narrow; they’ve never liked each other because Ronnie��s too goddamn smart for her own good and therefore uncharmable, “How’zabout that for a breath of stale air. Get up a sec, would’ja?”

“C’mon, we’ve gotta go anyway.” Eddie jerks his head toward the door and Ronnie scuttles out ahead of him. He pauses for a breath, watching his dad rifle through the rejected shirts slung over the armchair. “There’s nothing in here worth stealing, by the way. Just in case things have gone so far south already that you’re diggin’ in people’s pockets for spare change.”

Those cut-and-paste Munson eyes survey Eddie and he feels his fist flex. Al’s been a loose cannon lately. 

“Big night?”

“Party.” He should know what that means. 

“Well, Ed,” Al closes a few steps between them, and Eddie resists the urge to back up. Or wind up. His voice drops so that Ronnie doesn’t catch it. “When you’re ready to graduate from sellin’ ten spots at parties, you let me know. We got something prestigious brewing. Could be the makin’ of you.” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh, mirthful from his back molars. “Graduation’s a little ways off for me, Dad.” 

He catches up with a tutting Ronnie, slamming the front door behind him and heading for the van. 

“Seriously, dude, you got a case for a restraining order the way that motherfucker’s conducting himself lately.”

“I got a crowbar and a map of the Indiana Dunes that’d do just about the same thing, I just need a free weekend.”

“Hey!” a voice calls from behind them, and Eddie and Ronnie swivel toward it. 

No stemming the smile that peels across his face, heart thud-thudding back into motion. A soothing cool comes over him at the sight of you, settling him right back into his body. You, dressed to the nines. You, coiffed up like you’re hellbent on making an impression. My little cold front.

“Shotgun!” you chirp, skipping toward the van in your spindly little shoes. Both Eddie and Ronnie are rendered speechless for a beat or two. 

Shit, you look good.

“There’s only one fucking passenger seat!” Ronnie protests. 

“Fine, Ronnie, I’ll sit in your lap– is that what you want?”

Eddie lets you two nonsensically bicker as he guns the van to life, sweeping out of the park in a thunderous roar. He’s trying to stay tuned into the conversation you’re having, he really is, but the way you’ve got your shoulders thrown back and cleavage thrust out, Ronnie squished beside you, is focus-stealing.

“Wait, you’re volunteering at the beauty pageant?” Eddie finally clues in, “Sorry, Lace, there’s no way that throwing glitter on bimbos in bathing suits counts as community service. Otherwise, I’d be ve-ry committed to my community.”

“Right?! Like, how did I get stuck with helping out Granny’s retirement home friends? I could be checking chicks for visible bra straps but I’m trapped with a bunch of senile losers that smell like clove suckers.”

“It’s not just an ogle-fest, you knuckle-draggers,” you roll your eyes, “There’s an entire interview portion, too. You know, where the judges have to pretend to care about what these girls have to say– and it’s my job to make sure they don’t sound entirely braindead.”

“You love an insurmountable challenge, huh, Lace?” 

“Never tell me what I can and can’t mount, Munson,” you purr–he’s almost sure he hears you purr. The way you look at him over the center console, eyes all a-felined, does the job for him. 

Ronnie keeps her mouth shut, and he silently thanks her for it. 

Festivities are fully in swing as you all pull onto Harrington’s street–plus the festivity-specific problem of there being almost no parking anywhere. Cars of your classmates clog the tree-lined streets, along with the vehicles of the wealthier Loch Nora contingent. 

Eddie slaps his hands against the wheel. “How the fuck does he get away with this shit?” 

“Senior year pass,” you remark, “Plus, Steve’s always-AWOL parentals. Somehow, his shitty home life gives way to an endless well of sympathy on Richie Rich Row here, so he kind of gets carte blanche.” 

“The world’s luckiest latchkey k–woah!”

Reeboked feet have to slam down hard on the brakes, as Eddie almost takes out Robin Buckley, hunching her shoulders and marching toward the Harrington’s porch. The screech of the tires almost sends her leaping out of her skin. 

“Watch it, asshole! Pedestrians still exist, you know!”

“Sorry, Buckley!” Eddie calls out down the window wound low, “For what it’s worth, you’re blending into the tarmac just great!”

Robin scoffs and continues stalking. Your head snaps to Ronnie. 

“Ron,” you simper, “Why don’t you go make sure Robin’s not suffering from post traumatic? I would be, if I almost got mowed down by this decommissioned tank.” 

Her brow screws up like she’s about to answer, but genius little you, this works on a couple of levels. For one, your insistence that something will happen between Buckley and Ronnie if you keep pressing their heads together like Barbies, and for two… Half a second alone. 

Half a second is all Eddie needs. 

“There’s no way I’m gonna remember where I parked if one of you isn’t here,” he tacks on, as if he needs the support, “And she–” by whom he means you, “--has priors in this house. Off ya go, Ecker.” 

Banished to the pavement, Ronnie snarls something about hurrying back, which you promise her that you will. Eddie doesn’t promise anything. If he had his way, he’d rare right out of Loch Nora and keep driving, you to his beautiful right and watch as moonlight started to pool in the window over your skin. Just keep turning the wheel, so he could keep looking at you. 

You point out a spot a street over and Eddie kills the engine. 

“Hi,” he rasps, angling his torso toward you. He doesn’t stem his smile.

“Hello,” you say in return. Your neck rolls against the headrest. You’re looking at him in a slow drip through your bottom lashes. 

Eddie has to remind himself to breathe, and his first intake is kinda ragged. It makes you laugh, this little gaspy sound that sounds like a prelude to something else. Your stare breaks, gliding to the dashboard. 

“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

“Let’s shall.”

Eddie snaps back to life, dashing out of the driver’s side to help you down from the passenger’s. Your fingers give his hand a little extra squeeze and he takes this very, very liminal opportunity to hold you at arms length, pirouetting you under his hand.

“Sorry. I’m sorry! I had to!” he faux-apologizes. “Gotta test the durability of these shoes, in case you need to make a run for it later.” 

Your laugh comes out uncorked and full-bodied and it makes Eddie feel like his head is levitating two feet above his neck. 

“Relieving yourself of your hero duties already, huh?”

Silk spills over your curves, skirt billowing around your thighs as you move. That makes him feel very much in his body. You look ravishing, your hair crashing into a wave as you come to a smiling stop in front of him. 

Eddie presses his mouth to your fingers, clasped around his hand, and hears the bubble of your breath hiccup. 

“Not by a long shot.”

A warm berry encases your lips that he wants to see smudged. He wants to wear it on his collarbone like a second chain. 

He wonders if he knows you look like you’re trying to get ravished. 

Of course you do. There’s not a single thing you’ve ever put on your body that wasn’t on purpose. 

Which, if Eddie considers it, now includes him.

You both barely remember to unweave your fingers as you approach Harrington’s house.

—

A meticulously curated outfit makes all the difference, especially if you’re reentering society. And you are, in a manner of speaking.

Returning to the scene of the crime, the inciting incident that saw you in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van the better part of a bottle of vodka deep and a bruise blooming. Bridges actively aflame between you and those you once considered your closest friends. 

They’d given you the matches though. Flicked them at you, expected you to do nothing. 

It occurs to you now, as a lingering touch stays between your and Eddie’s pinkie fingers and you cross the porch, that you hadn’t so much as looked in the rearview mirror to assess the damage. You looked through his windscreen as he drove you home. 

“Divide and conquer?”

“I’ll find you.”

Eddie used to exist to you as an eyesore on the peripheries of parties like this. Here, where you always felt you were sitting alone on the observation deck, watching everyone else have fun and learning how to mimic it for your own gain. Patching yourself together. You felt him leering over your shoulder sometimes, separate from it too.

Now, he’s the boy spinning you around on the pavement, looking at you like you’re a whole person. 

So this should be interesting. 

The two of you shove past a couple of clumping bodies on the doorstep, eyes already starting to dagger in your direction. Into the foyer, towards the kitchen, those looks become more and more and more focused. Feels like you’re wearing piano wire for a choker. 

‘What the fuck…’ ‘Remember the last time she was here?’ ‘Woah, smackdown rematch. Somebody get Carol.’

Eddie gets a little closer than he needs to, feigning a stumble into you, just to brush against your hardened shoulders and whisper, ‘Head up, queenie. It’s not like they’ve got a guillotine,’ before he disappears to make rent.

The smile you’re about to sneak to him dies on your lips as your name rings out from somewhere in the milieu, someplace near the kitchen. 

“Lacy!” 

All that cruising for a parking space and you hadn’t locked eyes on a Ford Cortina, had you? 

The tardiest student enrolled at Amherst or wherever half-jogs toward you with a smile that makes your stomach lurch. Cold sweat starts to prick against your hairline. Excuse me?

“Oh! Hi!” you hit a higher octave than you were intending, for sure, you can tell by the look on his face. Eyebrows all shot up. “What the… fuck are you doing here?”

College guy shakes his head a little, confused. “You mentioned you were gonna be here.”

“...and you took that as an explicit invitation?” You’re still technically dating him, dumbass. Smile. “Just kidding! It is. Good. To see you.”

A cursory squeeze of his bicep. Christ, you’re bad at this when you’re not prepared. Extra bad at this when your first thought, when you’re doing bad, is where’s Eddie. When did that symbiosis develop exactly? 

“Listen, can we go somewhere?” Oh, Jesus. “Talk? I tried to call your place a little earlier and–” Oh, Jesus! This guy looks at you with earnest eyes that you couldn’t tell the color of if you had a gun to your head. Bodies jostling around you, you make the choice to drop in and act a little left of sober. 

“That sounds ah-mazing, but I do have to pee, so,” you shoot him a glimmering smile which ain’t takin’. “Grab me a drink and I’ll find you? Grab me a drink and I’ll find you.” 

Bolt! You’re stepping over knees as you weave your way up Harrington’s impossible staircase to the second floor bathroom, downing a shot from a tray on your way. Five minutes inside Mrs Harrington’s immaculately designed proto-modern lavatory should give you enough chutzpah to take on the rest of this night, right? Maybe a fully clothed lie down in the jacuzzi tub. 

The ten-girl deep line outside the locked door says different.

From the seventh spot, Carol Perkins cranes her perfectly coiffed strawberry head out and locks eyes with you. 

No guillotine, huh?

—

Eddie’s gotta wonder, what the hell the Harrington household looks like when it isn’t throbbing with mainstream radio rock and gyrating teenagers. The house is a showroom of suburban perfection, but whenever Steve throws a party, it goes full bacchanal. 

Tonight Eddie intends to take full and rapid advantage of the skewed consciousness of his classmates and copious amounts of jello shooters. 

Like, yeah, Harrington might have graciously invited him and not directly asked him to peddle his wares by the pool like a fucked up candy stand, but you gotta seize opportunity wherever you find it. People see him here, they know what to do. They know his purpose. 

It’s not as if Eddie’s here to mingle, okay?

Do what they expect of you until you don’t have to anymore.

The short term objective? Empty his stash, stuff his pockets and steal away with you into one of the billion bedrooms this mini-mansion holds. But, much to Eddie’s chagrin, that means fighting through the din of Cyndi Lauper and body odor first. 

Conjured by his very words, Andy Sweeney swings right into Eddie’s path and yoinks the beer that Eddie was reaching for. The kid doesn’t even look beyond the brim of his baseball cap to notice he’s standing there. He’s too busy jawing with some other basketball tool. 

“Lissen, man, say what you want,” Sweeney burbles, “but Princess Trailer Trash is still totally bangin’.”

Eddie’s ears immediately tune right into their garbled conversation. 

“Pssh, dude, I don’t care what anyone says, she was frigid then and she’s frigid now. No way some overgrown virgin like Munson is splittin’ those knees open.”

“Still… bet she misses the finer things in life, y’know?”

“Tchyuh, like you, y’mean?”

“Nah, rich bitches like that get a wettie over the dumbest shit. Hey, how many glasses of Cristal does it take for Lacy Doevski to spread her legs?”

“I’unno, man, how many?”

“Well, if the first one has her face down in the pillow, how’s she gonna be able to tell?”

Bile scorches the back of Eddie’s throat. He doesn’t even mean for it, he actually means for a lot worse, but his hand goes right out and grabs the scruff of Sweeney’s shirt. The despicable little dirtbag. He yelps, a sound pleasing to Eddie but not quite pained enough for what this motherfucker deserves. 

“What the fuck, freak?!” 

Breath forces itself hard through Eddie’s nostrils. That they think they even have the right to talk about you like that makes him want to leave an Andy Sweeney-shaped hole in the Harringtons’ marble countertop, with some blood and teeth and viscera to match. 

“Interesting observation, Andy. It’s incredible to witness how the minds of the shrivel-dicked work,” Eddie seethes, “I personally like to enact my violence face up. Seen Billy Hargrove lately?”

Sometimes, Eddie forgets that he’s actually scary looking. The hair shrouding his face, the big hulking rings, the unsuspecting strength he’s gained from hauling around kegs and amps and the weight of the world… Sometimes, it takes a stiffened flash and a sudden flash of fear in someone like Andy Sweeney’s irises for him to remember. 

Sweeney stammers something between a no, please! and get off me!, fighting his own piss-pantsery in order to keep up appearances for his bros. 

Eddie grabs the Miller High Life from his hand and shoves him back toward his friends. 

“Champagne of beers. You understand.”

Sweeney spits, like physically spits at him. “Fucking loser!”

“Says the guy threatening to roofie a chick!” Eddie barks. “God, I know that your line of work doesn’t exactly require neurons but I’m begging you to rub your remaining ones together and see if it sparks some self awareness, Sweeney– go on, try!” 

—

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here.”

“Praying I don’t get a UTI, like everybody else in line.”

“You know what I mean, bitch.”

A category five sigh rolls your shoulders forward, hunching them further down the wallpaper you lean against. Carol has stepped fully out of the line, looking viperous but keeping her distance. Like you might have the good sense to strike back this time. 

“Oh my god, Caroline, it’s a kegger. I don’t think you need to RSVP.”

“There’s a strict no freaks policy,” Carol The Bouncer says.

A one noted bark-laugh comes from the fifth position in the line. “Yeah, I think we’re getting a little lenient with that one these days.”

From the mouth of Robin Buckley, who stands there like she did at the last party, against her will but as living proof that even the worst people you knew might not be as bad as you thought. 

I know Steve. He’s not exactly made for this crowd either.

“Stay out of this, Lesbo Baggins!”

“Hey!” You force your stiletto off the wall and lose your place in line, since Carol’s begging for it. Fuck that. No more shrapnel. “Leave her alone. This is between us, isn’t it? You and me?”

“And the rest of this town,” Carol’s upper lip curls. 

“Refresh my memory,” you say, and the choking vice of Carol’s overly familiar body spray is threatening your jugular. You used to come home from her place reeking of the stuff; the kind of smell that transfers, and carried with it characteristics that you were once proud to have rub off on you. The misery, the misanthropy for everyone but your pocketful of someones. And you and Carol didn’t even like them, most of the time. United in smarting bitterness, the way that girls who want more but can’t seem to get it always are. “What’s the problem, Care?”

“The problem,” Carol snarls, “is you, Lacy. Think just because your daddy’s out of prison that everyone forgot what he did? What you did? I’m watching you, trailer trash.”

You’re close enough that you can see the clumps in her mascara. Why hadn’t she separated them with a needle like you taught her to? The Audrey Hepburn method. It had always freaked her out, you sitting there with a pin that close to her retina, but she’d never looked better. 

Doomed to fail, without you by her side.

Spine straightening, you draw yourself over her. In your heels, borrowed from Ivana and gilded with her hardiness, you make Carol look small. 

“Yeah?” your voice drops to gravel. “You like what you see?”

—

Brainless Hawkinsite pieces of shit can’t so much as muster a response before they lurch for Eddie. Who the fuck knows what cursed or blessed him with rhythm, but he dodges around the bustling kitchen island with relative ease, before he nearly knocks Steve Harrington himself straight through his own plate glass patio door.

“No runnin’ indoors!” Steve slurs in his face, so close that a fleck of saliva goes straight up Eddie’s nostril. Gross. He’s found a home in the welcome bosom of the jello shot, that’s for fucking sure. 

“They started it!” 

“I don’t give a fuck! Finish it!” 

Gruffly, he casts an eye around the kitchen for those rogue ballsacks– they’d scarpered, probably spooked by the bellow of King Steve. Whatever. 

“My attackers seem to have dematerialized, you’ll be delighted to know!” 

“Why do you do that? Why do you talk like such a fucking weirdo, man?” Steve asks exasperatedly, clutching onto Eddie’s shoulder a little too roughly for his liking. Not that he’s keen on Harrington pawing him at all. “Like what d–... ughh, forget it! List-en! Where’s your weirdo girlfriend?”

“Ronnie’s not–”

“Who the fuck is–” Steve’s whole pretty boy face screws up and he lets out a genuine groan of anguish. “No, asshole, where is Lacy at?” 

“How should I know?!”

“Because your nose is permanently wedged up her ass!” Steve yells, but something draws him back. “Or it should be!”

Incredibly puzzling wording. Eddie shakes his head, wide eyes bewildered at exactly what the fuck Steve wants from him. With a scoff, the man of the house walks into the body-to-body wedge of his hallway and runs, from what Eddie can see, right into…

Your little college boyfriend.

Now… what the sweet and levelling fuck…

Eddie Munson’s activating Shadow Arts, he guesses, because he dips as close to the two of them as he can get without being accused of tailing Harrington this time. 

“...hey man, what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Haha. Good to see you too, Stevie. Quite the turnout–you the big man on campus now or what?”

“I don’t know, it’s a party. I’m personally having kind of an evolution moment of my own. So. Fuckin’. Whatever.”

“... right.”

“How’s… fuckin’... whatever needledick school it is you go to?”

“Tch, man. I made it about a heartbeat and a hangover through the first semester before I dropped out. Came home around Christmas, much to the disgrace of my parents… But I’m havin’ an alright time, if you catch my drift.”

“Huh?” 

“Y’know. High school girls. You can tell them anything, am I right?”

Shit.

Know what, though? Eddie, as he sees it, would be well within his rights to yuk it up at this pernicious turn of events. He’s had a bet running (with himself) that this eyesore in beige you call a college beau, with his ugly fuckin’ car and his stupid collared shirts and his Waiting for Godot or whoever, wasn’t all he was cracked up to be. And not just ‘cause of jealousy, no! Not entirely. Well, okay. But, riddle him this– instead of snorting it up good, thrilled to be able to rub your nose in it, that rotten coil of anger started shifting in his belly again. Why do you think that is?

It’s simple. Eddie knows it’s simple. Because Mister Faux Ivy League has wasted so much of your time. 

Time that should have been yours and Eddie’s.

He’s gotta tell y–

“Hey, man. How’s it going.” 

“Agh!” Eddie yelps, as running right the fuck into people is apparently the flavor de nuit. Ronnie stands, stockstill and deadpan, behind him. Flanked by Tommy Hagan and Billy Hargrove. 

Eddie makes an exasperated noise of confusion, not even dignifying this apparition with a question. 

“They wanna play beer pong,” Ronnie monotones. With a glance down, Eddie can see that her front overalls pocket is filled with empty beer bottles. Apprehension swipes at him. See, his good friend Ronnie? She’s a competitive drunk. She, drunk off Jeff’s dad’s scotch, once trash talked Keith from Palace Arcade to such an eviscerating degree that she got a lifetime ban and he left to work at Family Video. Over a game of fuckin’ Tron. 

“We wanna play beer pong,” Hagan echoes. 

Hargrove sucks on a cigarette, having finally regained the ability to open his eye. Tragic. “Pong.”

“Why?!” Eddie asks, but more like begs. 

“Because they insinuated that I would lose.” 

“And we’d like to give the future valedictorian a chance to prove us right,” Hargrove drawls, looking as if he’s trying not to admit to himself that he has to look up to address Ronnie. She’s got a head and a half on him, at least. So many complexes in such a roidy, mulleted package. 

Eddie sees that his cheque is signed.

“... Fine. Your funeral.”

—

“All I see is some ex-relevant ex-cheerleader in somebody else’s moth eaten clothes.”

“This is Italian silk, you JC Penney clone-ette.”

“Oh, Italian like a meatball sub or Italian like the mob your dad is part of?”

That sets your teeth on edge. God, Ray Doevski wishes– at least there’d be some valor to it then, capos and all. The reality feels far less shrouded in intrigue. Grimier, somehow.

“Carol, you had the jump on me last time,” you grit, “but I’m stone cold tonight. Either see yourself down the stairs or I will.”

“Are you threatening me, freak fucker?”

“You’d love that, bottom feeder.”

“Lacy! Stop right there, y–” 

Earrings clinking as you snap your head around, you watch as a thoroughly ossified Steve Harrington almost brains himself on the top step. Neither you nor Carol nor anyone else reach out to help him, caught red handed in the prelude to a catfight. 

“Finally, Jesus!” Carol whinges, “Steve, she’s totally trespassing!”

Panic spikes across your shoulders, quills on a porcupine–are you actually about to get escorted off the premises? That’d be embarrassing, being double-shunned at an open-door Harrington kegger. Eddie hadn’t even managed that dire of a social faux pas and here you are, about to do it for the second time. 

“Ow! Shut up, Carol!” Steve decides to steady himself by closing the span of his big hand around your elbow; you both stagger under his wheedling. He’s got a bottle of vodka, cracked, wedged in his other palm. “You and I need to have a little chat.”

And before you can make any attempt to yank yourself away, make a run for it in these stilettos you certainly cannot confidently lift knees it, Steve is pulling you in the direction of his bedroom. A choir of middle school-aged angels that all look like you are singing somewhere as Carol and every other girl in that bathroom line save for Robin enviously glare after you, but you can’t hear it due to being plunged into one of the deeper circles of hell. 

“Steven, listen–” You’re not even entirely sure where the full-Christian-name-address comes from, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind when you yank your arm free. “I wasn’t trying to start anything. Not really. I was just…”

Click. Steve locks his bedroom door and turns, staring you down. Well, the best that a drunk teenager with drifting irises could stare one down. You wonder how many Lacys he sees right now. You should ask him to count them, finger on his nose. 

“You and I need to have a little chat.”

“You said that already,” but you can’t tell drunk people nothin’.

A remorseful edge around his attempt at a come-hither stare is making you feel a little icky, dawdling on the burning balls of your feet. He looks really bad, actually. The picture of someone trying to sift horniness out of grief or whatever. Steve thrusts one hand through his already scuzzed-up hair, the other jerking the bottle of liquor towards you. 

“Have a drink, Lacy, Jesus. Relax, for once.” 

You accept the bottle from him. Mostly because it looks as if he’s going to crack you over the head with it if you don’t. The vodka sears going down, same as last time, but there’s not the same urgency to meet everyone else on a level of functioning normal, party girl cool. If anything, the urgency lies in taking the edge off being here. 

Particularly in Steve Harrington’s bedroom. 

Once upon a time, you’d have mown down half this town in your sporty little Porsche to be sitting right where you’re sitting. But now, under the weight of your own self and Steve’s breakup with Nancy, you’d rather be anywhere else. Anywhere. 

“Sit down,” he tells you.

Your eyebrows draw in on instinct, very who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? 

Steve scoffs, like he forgot to put on his concerned pantomime. He makes a pretty good go of it, slurring. “Please, Lacy.”

Your knees acquiesce, sinking yourself down onto his checkered bedsheets. The combination of that and the checkered wallpaper is creating an incredible cresting wave of claustrophobia. 

“Listen, if this is about Nancy, if this is some harebrained attempt to marionette me into getting her back, I–”

“This is about you ‘n’ me, actually.” 

Nope. Opposite day. Fucking Twilight Zone.

“No, it’s not,” you outright refuse. The mattress sags as Steve takes a seat beside you. 

“Well, why can’t it be?” Steve’s eyes trail a sticky line up your bare arm as he lies back and props himself up, low on his elbows. However, it’s not eliciting the same amount of alarm that it would if someone like, say, Billy Hargrove were doing it. He’s pathetic, and not in a way you find enticing. “You ‘n’ me, it makes sense. Doesn’t it? Don’t you want it to?”

“No!” You balk with a little more fervor than a then-wounded looking Steve deserves.

“Why not?!” No one says no to the king, of course, especially when he’s this soused.

“Because…” You shake your head, legs crossing on Steve’s bed. A different draft of you, the idea of a girl you had long since scrapped screams at you from somewhere in the very back of your head. You’re ruining it, Lacy–everything we’ve worked for! “You don’t want me. You just feel sorry for yourself. And I’m…”

But luckily, he doesn’t catch the trail-off.

“I’m about to make you feel sorry for yourself,” Steve railroads you.

“How’s that?” Another slug of vodka…

“Well,” he struggles to keep himself propped up, “my girlfriend Eddie and your boyfriend Nancy? Recreationally copulating. How d’ya like that.”

… comes right out your nose.

author's notes: so i once again scrapped the idea of a mega chapter because i wanted to give you guys something in case i have to disappear because i start my new job tomorrow! sweating and pissing and crying. but being able to afford to move out soon will be good. anyway, i love writing a good party scene so expect this to leak right into chapter 12 too. onto the fun stuff: - naming carol's mother ann perkins is a not-so-subtle nod to parks and recreation but the characterization couldn't be further off lol - attention all american teen princesses, i found drop dead gorgeous in full on youtube - the debate team captain in question, kate something-or-other, is in fact the very same kate that appears in rebel robin as robin's now-ex best friend - doctor, she's self-referencing again, this time about the time ivana threw an olive at norman mailer - i had to look up the origin of the term 'boinked', and it turns out it comes from cheers! congrats sam and diane - boners forged fire to table straight from mount doom - fra-gee-lay. it must be italian - that's two for one LOTR references if you count lesbo baggins - i am once again pretending to understand things about dnd - i can't mention *jeff bridges voice* TRON! without watching clips of jeff bridges doing things. it's so cliche to cast him as my reefer rick but bitch the heart wants that's all for now, folks! thanks again for reading and pls do reblog and comment and send me asks and things to keep the spirit of this silly little story alive. we're amping up. love u hellcats x

[aettuddae]

hole in one — chapter 132.

⌕ synopsis: at one of the most prestigious universities in the country, where everyone is battling to be the center of attention, yu jimin is just a regular. people want her because of her beauty, but all she cares about is sharing her freaky stuff with her friends and passing her subjects. although there's one thing that might push her out of her comfort zone, revenge. when nakamura kazuha, one of the richest and most well-known students of NCU, starts to spread gossip about her for thousands of followers to see, jimin decides to get back by taking away the thing kazuha cares about the most: her perfect girlfriend, the young golf star, kwon haru.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

[warning: suggestive]

haru was lying on the bed in her hotel room. she had already had too much partying during those days and was tired, physically and mentally, to join any plan that wasn't strictly established in the wedding itinerary, such as the outing where all her friends were. so she took advantage of eunseo's departure which left the room just for her to watch television until she felt like going to sleep.

it was 3:25 a.m. and she still didn't feel sleepy.

she was completely absorbed in the plot of the show she was watching, so much so that she didn't hear when someone knocked on her door. but then, the second time they knocked louder, distracting her from the screen.

she got up and walked to the door, opening it, and revealing karina who was waiting behind it. with her body leaning against the frame, and exuding an intense smell of alcohol. when they found themselves facing each other, she didn't move, just raised her eyes to make contact, looking a little sad, but surely it was just the effect of the alcohol. without a word, she entered the room, walking past haru, as she had entered her apartment the morning she walked out of her life.

"lucky you opened up, i was worried i'd gotten the room mixed up and was knocking on some stranger's door at three in the morning." she took a seat on the edge of the bed and then dropped her back onto the mattress, letting out a long sigh.

for the way she smelled, she didn't seem that drunk. if anything her words were understandable and she didn't stutter or mix them up.

but to dare to be there at that moment, she had to have had enough to drink.

"but i am a stranger to you." alleged the resident of the room. "we don't have the relationship for you to be here at this hour."

"haru, you're literally the love of my life, shut up." she contradicted downplaying the other's words, her eyes closed, trying to calm the dizziness she felt.

the golfer couldn't help the jab she felt in her chest when she heard those words. it felt like she had just been shot with an arrow, something like the depressing version of cupid.

loving someone is beautiful until they disappoint you and make it hurtful to hear them say that they do, in fact, love you.

"what are you doing here?" she folded her arms.

"what were you watching?" she turned her head slowly so she wouldn't get the whole place spinning and rested her gaze on the television. "what's that?"

"a drama about a god..." she was suddenly silent. "hey, i asked you what you're doing here." she resumed the main topic.

"juyeon." she said casually as she straightened up to sit on the bed, and slowly began to survey her surroundings.

"what with juyeon?" she asked without getting an answer as the girl was distractedly looking for something. "what are you doing?" she was getting desperate as she couldn't manage to hold a conversation with her.

"i'm looking for the remote, i want to put shinchan on." she explained without looking at her.

"jimin!" she exclaimed nagging at her.

"what?" she closed her eyes due to the headache that the rise in volume in haru's voice had generated in her.

"what happened to juyeon?" she repeated.

"oh, nothing." she shook her head calmly. "she was with me at the club." she mentioned. "we stopped by the hotel to get some things, and she was going to continue partying with the others, so i realized you would be alone here and asked her if i could come see you." she raised her head, looking at haru. "she said yes, and that she knew we had things to talk about. so here i am." she grabbed the edges of the jacket she was wearing and took it off.

"you never think about talking to me when you're sober?" she accused remembering how the two times they had interacted the entire trip had been with alcohol involved.

"i talk to you all the time." she informed, but only succeeded in confusing haru, who furrowed her eyebrows and moved her head sideways indicating she hadn't understood. "i write to you all the time."

"you write to me?" she pointed to herself. "like in the notebook?" she referenced the classic movie.

"no." she waved her hand dismissing her assumption. "or maybe yes." she changed her mind. "i've never seen the notebook, what happens in it?"

"i haven't seen it either, i only know that particular scene." she shared grumpily.

"let's watch it!" proposed karina excitedly, stretching her arms out and leaning forward a bit so she could take haru's hands and pull her to where she was.

"jimin." she averted her gaze to the side, frustrated. "didn't you come to talk to me?"

"let's talk after we watch the notebook." she released her grip on haru and rested her hands on the sheets, using them to propel herself backwards so that she was even more in the center. "and an episode of shinchan." she added eagerly.

"no." she interrupted her plans. "if you have nothing to say to me now, please leave." she pointed her finger at the entrance.

"can't we have a good time before we bring up subjects that hurt us?" she questioned, finally finding the TV remote.

"no." she vindicated, climbing one knee onto the bed so she could reach over to karina and snatch the device out of her hands. "you lost that privilege two years ago."

"yes, i know." her face took on a grim tone. "i'm aware of that, i told you i've been writing to you. that's why i'd like to spend a moment with you where i don't embarrass myself."

"can you tell me what the fuck that means?" she demanded annoyed.

jimin rolled her eyes, tired, and let herself fall back again, lying down. she brought her hand to look for her phone that was in one of her pockets, but she couldn't remember which one due to the intoxication she had. finally, when she found it, she took it out, unlocked it and opened the chat she had kept all this time with haru's blocked number. she turned the appliance over, showing the contents of the screen to the older one and started to slide her finger over it upwards, showing her all the messages she had been sending during those two years.

"that's my chat?" she looked dumbfounded at what the younger one was showing her, who just nodded her head as she continued to scroll up.

"you're like my personal diary. i write to you." she turned off the object and put it aside, keeping her eyes on the ceiling, emotionless.

haru had nothing to say. she felt that any words were too much, that anything that came out of her mouth would cut through the tension that had risen between them, only for the shards of it to hurt them, like broken glass. she could only take a seat near the girl, and try to form an opinion regarding what she was discovering.

"it's all there." continued jimin speaking as she noticed the disengagement in haru. "christmas, new years, our birthdays, when you moved out, my reaction to your relationship with juyeon, my complaints about yujin, my commentary about your matches." her voice began to tremble. "every time i needed to tell you that i loved you and missed you, i did it there." tears began to escape her eyes, even though she tried to suppress them because she felt pathetic enough. "every damn day for two years, even if my friends told me it wasn't healthy, even if i felt miserable doing it, i wrote you, i texted you."

"why? you knew i wouldn't respond." she realized, her mood dropping, turning sour.

"because even if you had me blocked..." she sat up and then used her palms to wipe the weeping from her cheeks. "it's your number." she said simply. "it was something about the idea that there was only one step between you and me, that you only had to press 'unblock this contact' to get you back in my life." she brought her eyes up until they met kwon's. "i just wanted to keep you with me somehow."

silence reigned within those walls every time karina finished a sentence. haru was lost in deep thought, wandering in her own mind regarding the information she kept receiving. she lifted her legs, bringing them up against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, then resting her chin on one of her knees.

"can you say something?" pleaded jimin in desperation because now she was the one who was getting no reactions to what she was saying. "do you even care?"

"i don't know what to say." she confessed, looking far away.

"really?" she exploded angrily, threatening to burst into tears again. "i don't know, haru, tell me how you felt over the years, i don't know." she asked in an outburst. "why did you go to incheon? it wasn't because of me, was it?"

"yes, it was because of you." she admitted. "well, because of you, because of kazuha, because my apartment depressed me." she began to breathe shakily as she remembered her past. "because i would walk or drive around town and think about you, and go to the club and feel like an idiot." she rubbed her hands across her distressed face. "juyeon had a job proposal there, and she asked me if i wanted to go with her for a change of scenery." she revealed. "and juyeon is the only person i don't relate to you, so it seemed like a good plan."

"sorry for making it sad to even think about me." she expressed with her head lowered pitifully.

"you're really sorry?" she inquired incredulously. "you texted me every day for these two years, and i, on my side, devoted myself to torturing myself wondering if you were really sorry." with her nails she began to hurt the skin on her hands because of the anxiety that this moment provoked in her. "but i still can't find an answer."

"i have missed you every day that has passed." she couldn't hold back her emotions any longer. "every place i went, i waited for you to show up. every person i talked to, i waited for them to mention you so i could talk about you." she moved on the bed until she was kneeling on it, positioning herself in front of haru. "i tried to love someone else because everyone kept telling me to get over you, and i could never feel half as much as you make me feel. even when we broke up it didn't hurt like the day you and i parted ways." she gently took the older woman's face between her fingers. "i couldn't even hear the word 'golf' without wanting to burst into tears, i couldn't watch a single match until you started playing again. for two years i lived waiting for you, and i don't regret that because i genuinely believe you are the person i will love the most in my life, and that's worth it." she moved her thumbs, stroking the woman's skin. "but i do regret hurting you, lying, because that's what drove you away from me." she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "i will never forgive myself for doing something that took you away from me."

"do you really love me?" she plunged desperately into the brown eyes she adored so much, searching for explanations, or hope.

"more than i can understand." she affirmed.

haru was so drowned in her emotions that she didn't even spend her time thinking reasonably about her actions. it only took jimin telling her that she loved her and regretted it to grab her by the waist and pull her tightly to her, gluing her to her body, causing her to wrap her arms around her. she slid one of her palms down the back of her leg until she reached her knee and pushed off it, giving her a signal to sit on her lap.

when she had her straddling her, their faces at the same height, just inches apart, they both pounced against each other to see who would reach the other's lips first, who would take control of the kiss they would share. but between such urgency and need for their touch, they couldn't even establish who had won.

jimin's fingers ran along haru's jaw, neck and part of her back, only to end up tangling and tugging at the older's hair, who had her hands framing her body like a sculpture, from her legs, to the thighs that jimin knew fascinated her, to her back and waist, holding her firmly and urging her to rock on her. although it wasn't necessary for kwon to do anything, jimin was already in search of friction on her own.

the mouth of the eldest of the two drew across her skin until it found her neck, where it aimed to kiss, bite and suck wherever there was room. jimin was torn between letting her head fall back to give her more territory and the almost inevitable desire she had to keep her lips on her, leaving chaste kisses on which faction of her face was closest.

haru disengaged from her a bit, earning whining of complaint from her, only to be able to undo the shirt she wore and then toss it somewhere on the wide mattress. reconnecting with her body to take care of her collarbones and chest. the older's nails digging in and trailing down her bare back as if trying to create a passageway through which to get inside her, and jimin didn't mind because she knew that as soon as she removed the woman's clothes, she would leave marks where she could as well.

the younger girl took both sides of her opposite's face and carefully, but firmly, had her tilt it so that her ear was right in front of her mouth, "i missed you so much." she murmured into this one before fleetingly biting her lobe, then positioning her so that she could rejoin their lips in an agitated, frantic snogging. she broke away just a little, her mouth still over haru's, "i love you so much."

they met again, ready to continue what they were doing, but haru's breathing was getting too agitated. jimin thought it was normal, so she didn't think much of it. until the golfer stopped the affection and simply hugged her tightly, hiding her face in her neck.

"haru?" she spoke trying to regulate her breathing, then wrapped the girl in her arms tenderly, not understanding what was going on. "hey, are you crying?" she was elated to notice that her neck was getting wet and the girl was sobbing in her grip. "haru?"

"i tried to hate you." she blurted out suddenly, her voice almost stuck in her throat. "i was so angry with you that i thought the solution would be to hate you so i could turn over to a new page." the girl was doing her best to make her words come across correctly. "but i waited for you every day of these two years too." the pressure on her body grew, as if haru was trying to hold her the closest possible to her. "i waited for you to go to the airport to set me off, to wish me a happy birthday, and i even wished for you to watch my matches." she swallowed saliva to try to undo the knot of sadness that wouldn't let her speak. "even if you hurt me, i couldn't stop thinking about you at any moment. i missed you too."

jimin left a peck at the top of haru's head, resting there as she breathed in the scent of her shampoo. she stroked her back and nape up and down intending to give her support and help her calm down. as her eyes glazed over as she heard the girl's confession.

"i just wanted to know that you wouldn't do something like that to me again so i could come back to you." she admitted. "i love you too, my princess." she reciprocated karina's feelings for the first time.

"do you?" she suddenly pulled away from her so she could look into her eyes.

the older girl nodded her head in response to her question, and jimin kissed her again, this time laden with optimism, love and sweetness. it was almost as if she was thanking her for opening up and sharing her feelings.

"i love you." repeated jimin. "i love you, and i promise i will never hurt you again, not after knowing what it's like to live without you." she assured, then leaving short smooches on her lips. "calm down, okay? we're going to be alright." she pleaded noticing that haru couldn't stop her tears.

the younger girl lifted herself from the woman's lap, and tenderly directed her to lie down between the pillows just behind her. she positioned herself on top of her, brushed the bothersome locks from her face, dried her tears, and caressed her cheek lovingly.

"let's go to sleep, shall we? don't worry, i'm here with you." she gave her a comforting smile, getting one from the older girl.

"my clothes are over there." haru finally spoke once she was calmer, and pointed to a suitcase lying on the floor. "put on something comfortable."

"okay." agreed the younger girl. "i missed wearing your clothes too." admitted the girl making the athlete laugh.

(!)

— taglist: @runawaymazola @chaenniefirst @livelaughchoerry @rinapomu @jeindall777 @petruchiosstuff @sewiouslyz @yvesismywife @vvyuqi @aeriniee @jenlisaforthewin

[sharkrocket]

THE SUPER SCUFFED THANATICA LABS MODERN AU

There is so much groundwork that me and my partner failed to cover/did not think about, but I think we're going to just lay out what we have and just build upon it as more solid ideas come to fruition, so here we go

THANATICA LABS

Research corporation funded by the Powers That Be(?)

Dedicated to defeating death by prolonging life

Akin to Black Mesa or Aperture Science - Unethical experimentation going on behind the scenes

-----

DANIIL DANKOVSKY

Maybe not the founder? Maybe lead researcher?

Maybe founded it when it was a small lab and was bought out by The Powers to greatly expand funding?

Not exactly on the level - HAS done and WILL do shady things again

KNOWS what he's doing is illegal to some extent, but he tries to wash his hands of the dirty work (alleviate some guilt maybe?)

Hands the recruiters a list of requirements for his new hires (potential lab rats), lets them do the searching and he'll conduct the interviews

I have no idea what these requirements are

Sometimes the lab assistants go missing, he doesn't know anything about that, don't ask him

He LIKES his designers clothes - SOMETIMES it comes from Thanatica's grant money, SOMETIMES it's a few hundred here or there, BIG DEAL

-----

ARTEMY BURAKH

Studied in the Capital or IS studying in the Capital, and is in SO SO SO much debt

Is having trouble getting work because nobody is going to hire a surgeon with no ACCREDITED experience (cutting up bodies in your dad's unlicensed clinic does not count)

Looking to expand the medical practices of his provincial studies(?)

Maybe father has an illness(?) Perhaps Isidor suffering some kind of debilitating disease called the sand pest?

Was contacted by Thanatica Labs for a low level Lab Assistant position - It's Thanatica Labs, of course he's going to respond, that's a lot of money for an entry position, and he's going to have his name attached to a prestigious establishment

He's hired - Is under the pretense he can save up some money, maybe get some lab experience to eventually propose his own research somewhere else

Alternatively, went to university, left university to go home to tend to family business, came back to the Capital to resume studies and is looking for ways to expand his thesis?

Keeps his head down and minds his own business, the less he's under the eye of the lead scientist, the better

Doesn't mean he isn't talking to people and keeping a watchful eye - things are happening that aren't adding up, and it isn't just the grant money

Because he's so desperate for a job, it may mean he's more agreeable to participate in some of Thanatica's shady dealings

-----

THEIR RELATIONSHIP

This is so stupidly long, continued under cut

Daniil interviews Artemy and is so rude and condescending about it

Artemy is either biting back insults or being too sassy for his own good

Artemy gets the job either way, but it's VERY funny to imagine that Artemy failed the interview UNCONDITIONALLY, but was hired anyway under the pretense that Daniil didn't expect him to stick around for very long

"He's so handsome, shame that he's such a dick"

"He's so handsome, shame that he'll be medically indisposed for the sake of research"

Artemy figures out Thanatica is doing illegal experimentation but somehow despite this, it sort of falls in line with what Artemy is hoping to accomplish with his own studies (untested and unproven methods of healing that haven't been approved by any board)

Artemy decides to do his own experimentation behind Daniil's back

Daniil smells something suspicious, equipment and samples are missing (its his lab, he WILL get to the bottom of this)

He's been watching the new hire closely (assessing his potential for experimentation), eventually finds out that he's been performing experiments of his own with methods he's never seen before

Wants to put him under a microscope (literal) --> Wants to put him under a microscope (figurative)

Their confrontation can go a couple ways

Daniil approaches Artemy and offers him the resources to continue his work in exchange for doing some underhanded deeds to progress Daniil's own research

OR Artemy blackmails Daniil with the evidence he's gathered in exchange for resources - Daniil is largely unfazed by this, but sees Artemy's morals aren't exactly on the level either and he finds him very interesting so he allows him his resources in exchange for dirty work

Laughing at the idea that Daniil finds out that Artemy has no accredited experience and he lied on his resume to get an interview - Now he's even MORE desirable for underhanded work (thank you inkpot-demigod)

This would be the point Artemy is bagging bodies

Starts off with superficial antagonistic attraction (purely on looks, otherwise has disrespect for each other, condescending and rude) --> eventually develops into mutual respect for each other's work (cordial, maybe even friendly, "oh god why do they keep looking at each other like that") --> eventually develops into unprofessional workplace relationship (they are fucking in places where they definitely have no business doing so)

-----

"can we have artemy need a place to stay and daniil offers a space in his apartment and artemy packs him lunches to take to work. daniil thinks he's being subtle but just the fact he's eating lunch... all of his coworkers Know"

At some point during the relationship (most likely early on) Artemy mentions that his lease is ending and he's going to need to spend time looking for an apartment (or suggests that he needs to find a roommate to save some money because BOY DOES HE NEED IT)

Daniil IMMEDIATELY blurts out that he has space in his apartment (HE IS NOT JEALOUS, THIS IS JUST THE MOST ECONOMIC AND REASONABLE CHOICE, HE IS THE LEAD RESEARCHER AND HE CAN AFFORD A NICE SPACIOUS PLACE THAT HAPPENS TO ACCOMMODATE TWO)

It's closer proximity to the lab

They can keep discussing things in the privacy of his home

Not that Daniil NEEDS to save money, but having some extra is a plus

Artemy makes meals, food just APPEARS and Daniil never has to think about it

Co-workers are noticing that Daniil is ACTUALLY bringing lunches and eating food, hmmm very suspicious.....

Eva (lab receptionist, more on this later) notices the two of them coming into work at the same time in alarming frequency both carrying lunches and she's like SUSPICIOUS EYEZOOM

-----

"if the kids are involved with this i think it'd be kind of funny if daniil and artemy are desperately trying to hide the fact that they kill people but the kids definitely know that they kill people"

Not sure if they can live in Daniil's apartment if Artemy and Daniil have a living arrangement - Could be frequent visitors if Artemy is living there

Not sure about their relation to Artemy - would love to have him be uncle to his brother's adopted kids but this might get complicated

The kids are savvy enough to know about fucked up corporations, they are doing some MURDER in there

"Are you a mad scientist?"

"No pumpkin, I do very important research to extend the human lifespan"

"Oh…. That means people are dying in there right?"

"……."

-----

"i'm having a vision of daniil wanting to properly court artemy after a few trysts but he doesn't communicate this very well and he also has very little experience with this so he invites him to a fancy dinner or maybe even a gala and artemy is clearly out of his element the whole time and daniil is trying to make this work and its NOT... if anything artemy thinks daniil is trying to pull some power move on him AND THEN. at the end of the evening when daniil is trying to charmingly flirt and do a kiss, artemy is just like. what are you DOING and they do at least SOME communicating. its a START. this au is a murder romcom"

Daniil coming to terms with the fact that he's so gay for the new hire, oh god he's so gay, who allowed Artemy to be so handsome AND intelligent AND clever AND funny what the hell

He keeps looking in Artemy's direction and Temy thinks he's scrutinizing his work, but god knows Daniil needs to get ahold of himself

He has an idea: Invite Artemy to the next charity gala, show him off to some higher ups, thus giving him the opportunity to sing his praises, and Artemy should get the idea, then later in the night have some drinks and who knows

Daniil extends the invite to Artemy, Temy thinks he's getting some kind of promotion, so he agrees

The event is way bigger and way fancier than Artemy was anticipating, Daniil is showing him off to a lot of executives and Temy is trying to hold his own here - If this is some kind of test, he's going to wring Daniil's neck

"Why is Daniil being so flattering, is he making fun of me"

The two are finally alone and Daniil is sitting where his leg is bumping into Artemy's, he has his hand on Temy's thigh and he's leaning in so, so, so close and Temy panics - Not that he doesn't have his share of attraction to his boss but what is he getting at here? Some kinda power move? A cruel test? Blackmail?

They have been misreading each other this entire time and the both of them are UNBELIEVABLY embarrassed

Time to talk things out and admit some things to each other

-----

SOME LOOSE MUSINGS ABOUT OTHER CHARACTERS

Eva Yan

Receptionist at Thanatica, maybe specifically for Daniil's office/lab whatever

The only thing that matters is that she always sees Daniil and Artemy going in and out of the place

Privy to a lot of gossip and goings-on of the place, knows about some of the shadier stuff but she's far from put-off

In fact, she wants to be Daniil's next experiment and he is not having it

Dresses like "I have to go to the office but I'm going to a music festival at 6" boho chic

Yulia Lyuricheva

Works for the government helping to orchestrate shady evil things but she's not actively invested in being evil this is just a job where she can apply her mathematical genius

Eva of course goes on about wanting to be an experiment and neither Eva's enthusiasm nor the fact that Thanatica is so shady is surprising to her

Clara

She doesn't have to be here but if she is here than she runs around Thanatica like a rat and no one knows where she came from

She claims to be an experiment gone wrong but really she is just a girl in need of some caring parental figures in her life

Lara Ravel

In the city on a revenge mission to kill Alexander Block for the death of her father

DANIIL AND LARA MURDER SPREE WHEEEEEEE LET THEM HAVE IT I WANT IT

I have no idea how to make this happen

Block

Thanatica is not surviving this one Dankovsky oooooo it is not surviving

Head of the military operation to destroy all evidence related to Thanatica's experiments?

Roles of other characters unclear..... To be determined....

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS TEXT DUMP, MORE TO BE ADDED IF WE THINK OF IT

[mcheang]

Reality

As Nino lays out his plan for targeting Gabriel, Alya points out one thing. “Sure I know Ladybug can fix the mess an akuma causes. But Gabriel will still be mad. He already doesn’t like you, Nino. Don’t push it. For all we know, Gabriel might threaten to transfer Adrien to a different school. Remember, he totally lost it when Adrien lost his book?”

Nino: oh…right. I didn’t think of that. Then, who do we target?

Marinette grins sneakily. “I know someone who can get upset very easily.”

Adrien: really, who?

Marinette: i don’t want to spoil the surprise.

Later, as the parent-teacher meeting commenced, Marinette bursts in, “Oh, I’m so sorry to barge in like this. But I forgot I needed Mrs Rossi’s signature for Lila’s trip to Achu.”

Caline: Marinette, can’t this wait?

Mrs Rossi: what trip to Achu?

Caline and Marinette look at her. “You know, the trip she’s taking to join Prince Ali in teaching children for free. It’s such a shame that she won’t be able to attend the school’s weeklong camping trip but it’s for a good cause.

Mrs Rossi stands up. “My daughter is doing what?”

Caline: why are you so surprised, Mrs Rossi? Lila went to Achu for months less than a week after she joined Dupont.

Mrs Rossi: she told me the school was shut down from akuma attacks!

Marinette pretended to look faint. “Oh no, was it because of her special lying disease?”

Mr Cesaire looked skeptical. “A lying disease…? Do you mean compulsive lying?”

Gabriel almost regretted not being able to akumatize Mrs Rossi, if only to make up for losing Lila Rossi as a spy since clearly Alliance can no longer use her. Oh well, there’s always the fallout when her sheep find out.

Alya and Nino were recording this with open mouths. Adrien wasn’t so bothered by this after seeing more of Lila’s hateful personality.

Needless to say, the parent-teacher conference was delayed as Sabine then angrily wanted justice for her daughter if she was indeed framed by a liar. Gabriel had to admit the teaching faculty here was lousy to fall for Lila’s reception, but that’s what makes this place so prime for his akumas! Why did he send Adrien here again? Oh right, it’s the most prestigious school and he’ll never hear the end of it from Andre because Chloe would never accept his perfect son being in another school away from her.

Later, after Marinette received an apology from Mrs Rossi, she agreed to bring Lila up. Alya and Nino looked apologetic. “We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you.”

Marinette looked behind her. “It’s ok. Keep recording. If Mrs Rossi isn’t angry enough to attract an akuma, her daughter will be. Nothing akumatizes Lila like being caught.”

Lila was immediately suspicious when Marinette of all people came to get her, however it was subdued by Marinette’s poorly hidden dislike and the fact that it was Gabriel who asked her to come.

Certain that Mr Agreste wanted her help against a stupid boy’s resistance team, she agreed.

Boy was Lila surprised to see Sabine and her mother standing in front of the classroom instead of Mr Agreste, who looked disappointed in her.

Uh oh. Now Lila could see Marinette’s triumphant face and could see what had happened. Her one consolation was that the team’s plan to anger a parent into akumatization had failed. Though she was also irked she couldn’t get akumatized and make that loser suffer for exposing her like this. This is worse than Ladybug’s exposing her in front of Adrien!

As Lila was dragged by her mother to the principal’s office, Caline tried to resume the parent-teacher conference though it was clear all now felt disheartened by her incompetence.

The resistance was confused. Angry Rossis and disappointed parents were around. Where was the akuma?

Eventually they had to give up. What a waste of free period.

Not entirely a waste though since Lila was now exposed. Alya sent the recording to the whole class as the parents left.

Outraged gasps were heard everywhere.

Nino: why didn’t you wait till class was about to start? Then we could prepare to record the akumatization.

Adrien: if Monarch didn’t come out for Mrs Rossi and Lila, I doubt he’ll come for-

Reverser promptly swooped by, ready to turn Lila nice and honest.

Adrien: never mind.

Marc was deakumatized and the class apologized to Marinette for not believing her.

Lila returned to class, sulky in her forced apology, not really bothered by their angry reactions now that she was expelled. Only Marinette’s smug attitude infuriated her. Having been forced honest by Reverser, she had confessed to having duped two other women into being her mothers and had initially planned on running away to join one of them. Her mother now has their numbers. It was a nightmare.

Alya: who else can we akumatize for the greater good? Mayor Bourgeois?

Marinette: I don’t think our plan works if we our expected target isn’t even akumatized. We’ll have to think of something else.

Monarch is disappointed he won’t get to akumatize the akuma class again for a while. Ah well, it can be a favor to Adrien.

[sunshine-zenith]

I have work tomorrow so I don’t have time/energy to bang out a full well thought out analysis, but have this — I was thinking about Raine’s storyline involving them faking mind control only to be mind controlled for real later, and I was also thinking about how when they were a kid, they had to attend events on behalf of their school even though they hated it because they’d lose their scholarship. And I thought to myself “what could this have in common with the rest of their arc?”

Control, power, and calculates trade offs of one for the other

As a teenager, Raine had to make a school they didn’t even like look good, for the sake of their education. The fact that their scholarship relies on them making the school look good and not their academic performance (as made clear with how they lost it after publicly rebelling against a leader figure, even though the leader figure praises them for it) is pretty messed up when you think about it.

On the other hand, they’re clearly passionate about Bard magic, and even though it seems like their peers don’t respect Bards, St. Epiderm is presumably a prestigious school. Having attended it would probably look good on whatever the Demon Realm’s equivalent of a resume is.

As an adult, they spent months faking being under a mind control spell, even though it clearly costs them emotionally — not only do they have to push Eda away, they can’t reach out to Hunter, an obviously mistreated child, because that would blow their cover. Their fellow BATs spend months imprisoned before they can bust them out, too, something that probably caused them no end of guilt. And they had to endure Terra’s condescending attitude throughout it all — she talks to them like they’re still a child, and a child she enjoys manipulating at that.

In return, they remain part of Belos’s inner circle, and they’re able to make plays to take him out from within, all while doing what they can to keep their loved ones safe in the long run.

Now though. Now, they have nothing to sacrifice, no power to gain or lose, no control at all. Before, they were able to make the best of a bad situation and had plans to come out on top. They’ve essentially been treated like a puppet for several parts of their life. And now they are one

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Since you're familiar with tokusatsu actors and their journeys into BL, what kinds of careers historically have tokusatsu actors had as they start to get more credits and mature?

Thank you for the ask! This is a great question. It’s something I’ve been curious about for a while, as you know.

I never get tired of this gif of Seto Toshiki (a Kamen Rider alum with two BLs under his belt) eating cake. (It's from Kamen Rider Ex-Aid, which he starred in with Iijima Hiroki of Our Dining Table fame.)

Oh, I should probably say at the outset that I'm talking about the suit transformation type of tokusatsu shows here. Technically the category is broader and also includes kaiju movies, but I'm focusing here on the kind of tokusatsu series in which human characters (or human-like ones) transform into masked heroes. I think that's what you had in mind, Ben, and it's the type of tokusatsu that tends to overlap with the BL world.

Another thing you'll notice is that I'm mostly going to talk about men here. Tokusatsu has been making some progress as a genre when it comes to gender equity, but it still has a long way to go. And since most of the progress that has happened, like the increase in female Riders, has been in the last few years, the actors who played those characters haven't had much of a subsequent career yet.

Now, to your question.

Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out a way to really look at this systematically. So, definitely take my conclusions with a grain of salt. (If anyone reading this knows more about this or has thoughts about how to get more/better info, I'd love to hear them.) The main source of information I have--aside from just soaking stuff up from watching tokusatsu shows and reading toku fans' tumblrs, of course--is looking at toku actors’ entries on MDL and seeing how many roles they’ve gotten, if they’re “guest,” “support,” or “main” roles, and trying to find out about the type of shows and movies they’re in.

One of the biggest weaknesses to this approach as an American viewer is that it's usually hard for me to tell what constitutes a popular or prestigious series or film even if I go to the listings for specific shows/films. I should also note that one thing that biases my “data” (to use the term loosely) is the fact that I’m more likely to look up this information about actors I like. Well, occasionally I’ll also look at info on some sample of actors out of curiosity, like a bunch of lead Ultraman actors’ subsequent careers or something like that. But it's usually more random.

A little background. As you're aware, tokusatsu roles often go to younger actors who don't have much previous experience. They tend to function both as a way of getting a foothold in the industry (building a resume, starting a fanbase, etc.) and as a way of learning on the job. Part of the reason they work so well in this regard is that they have long seasons. Ultraman seasons are typically around 25 episodes long, which is pretty long compared to many shows in Japan, but Kamen Rider and Super Sentai seasons are usually around 50 episodes long. This means two things: a toku part gets you a lot more of the aforementioned work experience than you'd get in other genres, and it provides a solid year of consistent work with additional work to follow (particularly hard to come by in Japan's entertainment industry, from what I understand). The additional work is substantial, too. There are typically post-series TV movies and touring live shows and there are often guest spots on other series in your franchise.

When it comes to landing other roles, as in other types of media, it makes a big difference what type of role you had. This is stating the obvious, I know, but there are some specific ways this works with tokusatsu series, and it relates to who ends up in BLs and in what capacity. So, all of the big three tokusatsu franchises are pretty ensemble-based but they still have distinct leads and some degree of a hierarchy of roles. Ultraman has the strongest leads, Kamen Rider has lead/title Riders and secondary (and often tertiary) Riders, and Super Sentai shows are especially ensemble-y (the word sentai basically means "squad," after all) but they always have some kind of group leader.

When I look up subsequent work by tokusatsu actors who had sizable roles in their toku series--lead roles, or other parts that are what MDL would call "main" roles--what I see most often is a lot of supporting and guest roles in a variety of TV shows and some films. You can usually find a smattering of lead roles as well, but if you look closely they may turn out to be smaller productions (but not always). When it comes to the number/frequency of credits, there's a lot of variation but an average case would be 2-3 such credits per year. Like I mentioned above, it's hard for me to tell how desirable/prestigious/well-paying those guest and supporting roles are. But they don't usually seem to be scraping the bottom of the barrel or anything. So, yeah. Lots of these actors have different paths, but this is what I see most frequently.

Given how challenging it is to make a career out of acting in Japan, this is nothing to sneeze at. Despite its relative influence, the Japanese entertainment industry is still comparatively small, and there are only so many opportunities. In that context, regularly getting guest and supporting gigs constitutes a pretty uncommon level of success.

Could these folks support themselves on this amount of work? I often see just a few credits per year, so maybe not. But when I like a one of these actors enough to follow them on socials, it usually seems like they are supplementing those parts with other stuff like stage plays, toku fan appearances, modeling gigs, or other types of performance including music. Even with these different sources of income, some probably still can't live on their entertainment industry pay alone. But it appears that some can.

So that's the most common thing. One less common outcome is leaning really hard into being a tokusatsu actor for life. It's not typical to get significant roles in multiple toku shows, but it does happen. And some actors manage to play the same character in a lot of post-series movies, miniseries, etc. stretching out for years after their actual series. For example, Tsuruno Takeshi, who played Ultraman Dyna's human host Shin Asuka, has been in ten different Ultraman things including his main series, a short series, a lot of TV movies, and a special. Dyna aired in 1997, and his last appearance as Asuka was fairly recent, in 2016. That's almost a 20-year span. Yet Tsuruno has never had a non-Ultraman main character part. (Though this is partly because he seems to have focused more on his music career and related variety show type things post-Dyna.) There are even some actors who are tokusatsu superfans whose whole career plan is centered on the genre from the get-go.

For those who are looking to branch out, there are a lot of trajectories. So I'll try to talk about some of them through a few examples.

Takeda Kouhei

You probably knew I was going to bring him up. On Kamen Rider Kiva, Takeda's character was important but not the lead (he played the main character's father in the 1980s, in a timeline that ran parallel to the present day one). That was in 2008, when he was 22. Nine years later, in 2017, he was in Kamen Rider Build, in which he was the "tertiary" Rider. This character was a potato farmer-turned-antihero. As tertiary Riders go, he was pretty popular. But Takeda seemed to be mostly hovering at a certain level at that point. Then Old Fashion Cupcake happened. It's significant that he went from playing supporting characters (albeit important ones) to a lead character in OFC. It's also helpful that OFC came out at a point when the prestige of BLs was on the rise. It seems like Takeda has had more consistent and larger parts since then. The difference isn't night and day or anything, but it's observable.

If you look at Takeda's Build costars, Inukai Atsuhiro and Akaso Eiji, here’s what you'll find. Akaso has a similar trajectory to Takeda's only somewhat steeper. His role on Build (the secondary Rider) was a bit bigger, he seemed to get slightly bigger roles overall after Build, and Cherry Magic gave him a significant boost from there. Inukai had a bigger upswing early on followed by slower growth that still had him outstripping both Akaso and Takeda. From what I can tell, his “data” more closely resembles that of Yamada Yuki, who I’ll talk about in a second, though they have different niches.

Suda Masaki

Suda Masaki was only 16 when he played the main rider in Kamen Rider W in 2009, which is unusually young. (W has a unique premise where two different people inhabit the same Rider, so Suda played a lead rider but so did his costar Kiriyama Renn.) From what I can tell, he seems to have had a pretty organic path to larger and larger roles while varying genres and styles quite a bit. At this point he's definitely a very respected actor. (One interesting bit of trivia: Hagiwara Riku has said Suda is his biggest acting role model.) He's won two Japan Academy Film Prizes and been nominated three more times. I don't know of a more successful ex-tokusatsu lead. Actually, I looked him up for this post to fill in some details and found out for the first time that he also has a pretty successful career as a jpop musician. It's almost annoying that he's that talented in yet another area.

I don't see any indication that Suda has ever played a queer character, though he has definitely done some pretty bromantic stuff. He did kiss a man once in a drama series, but it was for plot reasons and was 100% played for laughs in a gross way. He also played a gender nonconforming character in the 2014 live action version of Princess Jellyfish. (Another bit of trivia: when another live action adaptation of Princess Jellyfish was released in 2018, the same character was played by another former lead Rider, Seto Koji from Kiva.) I wouldn't put it past Suda to play a queer character, if it was for a highbrow movie or something analogous to what Nishijima Hidetoshi has done in What Did You Eat Yesterday?, but I'm also not holding my breath.

Yamada Yuki

A less extreme case. Yamada was on Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger. He was the blue member of the team, a soldier-turned-pirate. It may have helped Yamada along later on that Gokaiger is an especially popular Sentai series. Post-Gokaiger, Yamada didn't have any sort of big breakout role that I can find. It just seems like fairly soon after Gokaiger, he started having significant roles in TV dramas and has pretty much continued from there, with some upward momentum but no huge changes. When he was in a drama with Akaso Eiji recently, his part was first billed and a smidge bigger. Yamada's trend line seemed to have a biggish upward swing early and then just a slight slope from there. But I just saw him in something different: he plays the younger member of the minesweeper crew in Godzilla Minus One. I wonder if that will mark any sort of shift for him.

Yamada hasn't played any queer characters as far as I can tell. His Sentai role was shippy as hell, though. It's a tradition among Sentai shows that subtext-level queer ships happen between the red and blue team members, and that's exactly what happened in Gokaiger. Sometimes the subtext pretty much became text. If magazine images from that time are any indication, their relationship seems to have been a promotional angle for the show. There's even one where they seem to be in some kind of high school AU that looks like it's straight out of a BL.

what about women?

I tried looking up a few women I know from tokusatsu roles while I was looking up these and other dudes. Some of them were still in the business, at least. Some were getting the same trickle of guest and supporting parts a lot of men do after a tokusatsu show. A few had a slightly bigger trickle. But many of them seemed to have disappeared from the public eye entirely. Not only are women underrepresented in tokusatsu, and not only are their roles often relatively small and two-dimensional, but it doesn't seem like they get even a slight career boost after these roles.

It's possible this will change for some of the actors who got bigger, more interesting toku roles in recent years. Here's hoping!

The changing relationship between tokusatsu and BL

The relationship between tokusatsu and BL has been changing as BL gains more prestige, like I alluded to when I talked about Takeda Kouhei. There was a time when they seemed to be pretty analogous in terms of how hard it was to get a role and how effective they were as rungs on a career ladder. If you went from being a tokusatsu side character to a BL lead (like Takeda), that was a step up, but only because you were shifting from a supporting spot to a lead one. Tokusatsu leads usually didn't usually do BL or, when they did, only played straight supporting roles. I think it was seen as a lateral move. But now, BL is becoming a very established next step after tokusatsu. It's like BL has moved up in status so that the consensus is that it's above tokusatsu on the ladder, but just by a little bit. It's also kind of an organic transition since we're seeing more queer ships in tokusatsu that, while they mostly happen on a subtext level, are close to being canon (and in some cases, arguably already are). It occurred to me while I was writing this that there's also another type of role that is in a similar zone of accessibility and prestige to both tokusatsu and BL. It's a franchise, not a genre, but with so many movies and such huge casts it almost functions like a genre for the purpose of this discussion. I'm talking about the High&Low movies. If you're a fan of tokusatsu or BL, you'll see actors you know in every High&Low movie and if you're a fan of both, you'll see tons.

Case in point: Here's our ol’ pal Yamada Yuki. He's in quite a few High&Low installments. If only he’d do a BL and complete the trifecta! The only person I know of offhand who’s done a tokusatsu show, a BL, and a High&Low role is Takeda. I bet there are others, though.

the new (?) prestige tokusatsu

There's another piece to this I should probably point out as well. In recent years there have been some more high-budget, prestigious takes on existing tokusatsu properties. First, Anno Hideaki, who's best known for the Evangelion anime series/films, put out three live action features that are new, well-financed takes on three big tokusatsu properties: Shin Godzilla, Shin Ultraman, and Shin Kamen Rider.

Last year there was also a Kamen Rider series geared toward adults that had higher-than-usual production values called Kamen Rider Black Sun. It did that “you can tell our show is for adults because it's all gritty and grimdark" thing, which I'm not a fan of. But it definitely had its points.

Really distinguished actors starred in both the Shin movies and Black Sun, including Nishijima Hidetoshi, who's about as distinguished as it gets. Nishijima was in both Shin Ultraman (in an important supporting role) and Black Sun (as a co-protagonist--and he's the biggest highlight of the series). So these are examples of toku media that are too prestigious to be a springboard into the industry for most actors.

This seems to be a new phenomenon, though I could be wrong about that. I don’t expect the trend will continue at this pace (after all, so much of it is attributable to Anno alone and I don't think he'll continue down this path indefinitely), but I bet some other shows/movies in this vein will come out sooner or later.

Here’s Nishijima doing a henshin sequence. He does these moves with such commitment. Is there anything he can't do?

before tokusatsu

As I was writing this, it got me thinking about what actors do before their tokusatsu roles as well as after. It's not uncommon for toku roles to be someone's debut, but that's not really the norm. Even when it is, most of those actors were doing something in the realm of performing or modeling beforehand. I don't usually look at this sort of information as much as I do later roles when I'm investigating toku actors I like. So I looked up some people to try to get a sense of where the actors tend to have done before their toku parts.

There's one starting point that a whole bunch of tokusatsu leads share: winning the Junon Super Boy Contest. When I first saw references to it, I thought, OK, this is some kind of national talent contest. I guess there are probably lots of them. But when I looked for others, I didn't see anything come up. Maybe I'm just not looking in the right places or using the right search terms. But I think maybe this contest might be pretty unique in Japan.

It's run by a magazine called Junon and, well, if I describe how it works it's going to sound really familiar to you and anyone else who's seen Utsukushii Kare, because it's pretty much exactly the contest Kiyoi participates in. Like, if it's not what Nagira Yuu was thinking of when she wrote that part of the UK novel, I'll eat my shoe.

A ton of tokusatsu leads won, placed in, or made it to the finals of that contest. The Tokupedia fan wiki even has its own page dedicated to the contest with links to various winners' toku characters. The majority of Junon Super Boy contestants who ended up in a toku series went to Kamen Rider, but there are some Sentai dudes as well and at least one Ultraman lead.

So I guess if Kiyoi had won that contest, he probably would have ended up on Kamen Rider or something. Weird.

Inukai Atsuhiro and Iijima Hiroki both won that contest. Those are the only two Junon Boys (that's what people call the contest winners) who became tokusatsu actors and were on a BL that I know of right off the top of my head. But it seems likely that there are other toku-and-BL or just BL actors who won, placed, or made it to the finals of this contest.

Other dudes who ended up on tokusatsu shows started out in other ways. Some were simply signed to agencies as actors. There's a fair number of them who were in idol groups. (Though when an idol/ex-idol is looking for a gig as a transition into acting, BLs seem to be a more popular choice.) Some mostly did modeling prior to their toku series. Some already had quite a few acting credits, though usually not very big ones. Although he's a Junon Super Boy winner, Inukai had eight other acting credits before Kamen Rider. Takeda had the same number, and he started young--his first credit is for a TV show that came out when he was 10 (though it took another six years to get a second).

I also looked up some women who've had prominent roles in tokusatsu shows, including more recent ones. The most frequent things I found when I looked for information on their pre-toku careers were that they had been models or idols (or both). It's also not uncommon for women in toku roles to be former or present gravure models--basically models who pose in bikinis or comparably revealing outfits.

The coolest thing I found was that Imoto Ayaka, who played Igarashi Sakura/Kamen Rider Jeanne, was an award-winning ballet dancer. Which is not only incredibly cool but makes a lot of sense in terms of preparation for a tokusatsu hero role.

I mean, just check out this henshin.

Well, this has gotten ridiculously long. Sorry about that. I may have gotten a little carried away. But thanks again for the question.

And now, I have something to write for @wen-kexing-apologist...

[reidsrambles]

Your writing is amazing!!!!

Thank you so much! Any feedback on my writing seriously means the world to me. I do hope to write a full romance novel one day, so this entire fanfiction endeavour is largely to improve my writing!

As a thank you to you and to anyone who follows me or has read my last (aka, my first) fic, I'm going to share the first 1,000 or so words of my next fic, which will most likely be relatively long and in multiple parts. Because this piece is unfinished, this content contained in this preview is subject to change.

Preview (unnamed, release date TBD)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader General synopsis: You and your best friend Penelope Garcia work together as technical analysts for the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. You and Spencer Reid have developed a romantic relationship since you've started there, but you both have decided to keep it to yourselves in order to avoid external influence from the team and additional complications at work. Unexpected events threaten the sacred secrecy of your relationship and you fear for the future and for the relationships you and Spencer have with your team. CWs (preview): Reader recalls, on page, being shamed for her creative outfit choices in the past. Words (preview): 956

[This preview is entirely SFW, but the finished work will be 18+ NSFW, so keep that in mind. The CWs listed are for the preview only. CWs and TWs for the final story will be posted whenever that is.]

Penelope Garcia finally shows herself at 10:08 a.m. As usual, she rolls into your shared office with the force of a tornado.

“Alrighty, Miss Y/N, we need to discuss the plans for your birthday party soon. I need a guest list because I need to figure out how much food I’m ordering and where we’re going to have it, since your apartment is pretty small and mine is only marginally bigger. I already asked him, and Rossi did say we could have it at his house, so that’ll probably be the best option.”

Before she takes her seat, she takes notice of your scowl and crossed arms, and her face falls. “Wait, what did I say wrong?”

“First of all, Penn, my birthday isn’t for another two months, and I told you that I’m fine with it just being you, me, and the team. Secondly, where have you been!? I’ve been here since nine, and it’s now…” you check your non-existent watch for dramatic effect, “past ten. You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. Penelope Garcia, unreachable? I assumed that you were, quite literally, dead.”

“Two months is extremely soon when party-planning, I shall have you know! Wait, did I not tell you about that meeting I had with Hotch this morning?” she asks, genuinely puzzled.

Your curiosity is piqued. “No, but spill! Meeting with Hotch? What about?”

Penelope takes her seat, and you slide your swivel chair over to hers. Elbows on your knees and chin resting on your fists, you await her update like an excited child.

“It’s nothing that exciting, unfortunately, my sexy, salacious sidekick.”

“Don’t make me call HR again, Garcia,” you whisper. You give her a quick peck on the cheek and roll yourself back to your desk, only a few feet away, to resume working.

She drops a bomb as if it’s nothing. “Strauss wanted an update on how the team was doing, having two technical analysts. That’s all it was.”

The FBI hired you to work as a technical analyst with the Behavioral Analysis Unit just shy of your 25th birthday. You and your best friend Penelope Garcia met while she was presenting on behalf of the FBI at your then-school and her alma mater, Caltech. You were just starting your final year of undergrad in computer science, but you were unsure of where you wanted to go after that. The presentation was on the various technology careers within the FBI, of which technical analysts are one. You guessed that it made sense to try to recruit from one of the world’s most prestigious universities. She confidently marched up to the microphone wearing a bright pink pencil skirt, pink tweed jacket, and a cat ear headband, and you immediately knew you had to talk to her after the presentation, regardless of what she said up there.

You were always the one, even in high school, who had to match your outfits and accessories to a specific theme or color. You always dressed a bit more out there, and people have specifically chosen to bring it up to you before. In your first term of university, one professor mentioned your outfit as an example of how not to dress in a professional workplace. She was a woman, too. It probably wouldn't have hurt so badly coming from a male professor, but being shamed by a female professor did a number on your self-esteem.

Thankfully, your mom has always been your number one fan and biggest cheerleader. When you cried to her about your experience in class, she gave you the pep talk of a lifetime about how the world needs more people who are authentically themselves to bring color to the lives of the boring. She said you'd be the best computer scientist and look amazing while doing it. Mom's the oil painter, and your dad is an accountant, so the advice was very on par for her but extremely meaningful as well. Seeing another colorful, authentic woman, let alone one with a job at the FBI—which you had always viewed as a stuck-up, cold, and refined place to work—was immensely inspiring.

In addition to talking about technical analysts, she discussed the careers of digital forensic examiners, IT specialists, and computer scientists. She seemed so normal and down to earth, and you felt so excited by her presentation that you were actually taking notes. After her presentation, you headed over to see if you could speak with her. Before you could even start, she loudly gasped and began complimenting your outfit. You were wearing a lemon print sundress that day (since it was so hot), and you paired that with your lemon wedge purse, lemon slice necklace, and a matching yellow headband. Your gray backpack stood out like a sore thumb, but unfortunately, your laptop didn’t fit in your small citrus purse.

Penelope gave you her card, and you two became fast friends, and later, best friends. She really took you under her wing and literally became the older sister you never had. You knew you wanted to utilize your skill set to help fight crime, and right after you finished your masters, Penelope convinced her boss to hire you to work under her. Her cave was cozy with the amount of equipment she had in there, but being her best friend, she made room for you. Penelope had told you about how amazing her team was, but you had no clue what you were truly in for at the BAU.

“So after being here for two whole years, Strauss wanted to know if I was needed or if I could be cut from the team? That’s your idea of ‘no biggie’?” you ask, exasperated.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

*a Concerned Student writing to the NRC newspaper, after the Nth overblot incident* is it possible for the headmage of a prestigious magical school to gain their position by, say, nepotism, money, etc. as opposed to actual competence? just asking for a friend who definitely goes to some other school.

I think only about half of the OBs we've experienced so far are widely known throughout the school (Jamil's is only known by Scarabia + the Octatrio, Vil's was also seemingly contained, Idia's happens in the presence of the other OB boys + Pomefiore trio, and no clue about Malleus's yet. Still, that's like... 3 OBs too many for how supposedly "rare" they are 💀

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens

You sat down on an open bench and unfolded NRC's latest newspaper. Since you had picked up your copy, you had been itching—no, buzzing—with anticipation to read it.

It had been satisfying to vent out your frustrations with Crowley in your submission to the paper's ask column. Even more satisfying would be seeing it publicized for the other students to take in.

You flipped through the pages, eagerly scanning for your entry. There it was, right on 13 (Lucky number, you scoffed).

"Let's see..."

Dear Concerned Student,

Rest assured that any and all instructors at Night Raven College are rigorously vetted, tested, and interviewed before they are granted tenure at this prestigious institution. There is no exchange of money, goods, or other shady under-the-table deals which would land a person a legitimate position at NRC. The very same goes for our headmaster, who is tasked with the critical task of overseeing the school's operations! Though he may not appear frightening at a glance, Headmaster Crowley wields great power to protect his school and its students—power which he yields at his discretion. He is not someone to be crossed.

In the future, please refrain from speculating on the topic of staff and their backgrounds, achievements and accomplishments, and/or character, be it here or at another similar arcane academy though light teasing of Royal Sword Academy is not entirely prohibited. Spreading rumors and partaking in gossip is most ill-fitting for one that has been gracious granted the opportunity of lifetime to study at NRC! In the spirit of the honorable Great Seven, we must carry forth their legacies with all the dignity and grace of a royal. We should not behave in ways which would sully their good names!

Let us hope that our headmaster doesn't catch wind of this month's edition! Or perhaps he will and, out of his most magnanimous heart, choose to turn a the other cheek!

Sincerely,

The Curious Crow

“What the…?!” You stood, the newspaper crumpling horribly and shaking in your constrictive grasp.

This response... That columnist's pen name... It can't be! He intercepted my submission and fired back?!

At that moment, a trilling laugh met your ears.

You frantically glanced around the courtyard. Students were drifting in and out as they entered and exited classes, buttoned up in their colorful vests and armbands. Not a dark, feathered man in sight.

Your eyes narrowed as you slowly sat back down and resumed browsing your paper. The hairs on your body stood on end, as if tasting the air for abnormalities.

Another soft sound, akin to a coo.

In the leaves of the apple tree overhead, a slick little crow perched, pleased with its work.