#nothing like shitty family drama

[lilmccoy]

This evening is just a mood in itself. Discovering a really strange and amazing thing about myself. My parents arguing in the background, with the tv blaring some football game. Just sitting in my room zoning out with this new revelation, realizing I have to go to work tomorrow, and soothing myself by eating half a bag of chocolates. Today just seems adjacent to the actual timeline, if that makes sense.

[vaugarde]

just realized its been a year since we’ve seen my shitty uncles family and almost a year since we’ve totally cut them off :D

[dreamescapeswriting]

Easy Like A Sunday morning ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

GENRE: comfort for family drama, argument between couple, established relationships, angsty, with soft ending

PAIRING: Chan x GN !Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The sun beamed through the cracks in the bedroom blinds as you lay with your head on Chan's chest, your fingers running up and down his chest softly as the two of you lay there for what felt like forever. Sundays were always the best for the two of you, neither of you had to work which meant you could spend all day in bed if you felt like it, which nine times out of ten you always did.

You'd lay in bed, tangled in the sheets enjoying the warmth of a lazy Sunday morning, doing nothing but eat and laugh together as you shared moments you couldn't wait to tell your future kids about.

"I love lazy Sundays with you," You said with a giant smile, your hands drawing invisible patterns into Chan's bare chest as he smiled and let out a content sigh. 

There was nowhere else he'd rather be than with you, work had been stressful to him all week and this had been exactly what he needed to unwind from the chaos of his boss. The two of you needed this time together to just relax, sometimes it was the only thing you had to look forward to after a shitty time at work.

"Me too...No rush...No plans," He sighs happily as he stretches his legs in the bed making you giggle a little at him as he finally stopped and wrapped his arm around your waist, 

"Just us, TV and lots of food." He finished as you let out a giggle. The two of you would always cook for one another, taking turns every Sunday to see who would cook for the other and this week it had been you.

So you'd made you both some breakfast wraps which had gone down a treat with Chan who'd already had three from you.

"We should do this on Saturdays too," You mumbled, turning to lay with your chin resting on your boyfriend's chest and smiling a little. Saturdays were usually reserved for spending time with your family but after the big blowout you'd had with them yesterday you were hoping you'd limit your time with them as much as humanly possible.

"I thought you were always busy on Saturdays..." Chan trailed off a little trying not to seem as hurt as he was by never getting to spend the full weekend with you but it was confusing for him. The two of you had been together for almost five months now and you'd never been free on Saturdays and whenever he asked you about it, you'd brushed it off as nothing or told him you were working. 

"Turns out I might be free more often now," You smiled weakly and looked at Chan who appeared to be elsewhere in his own mind so you bit your lip and turned his head to look at you.

"I love you." You whispered before reaching across and kissing him softly. Chan's arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer to him, his worries melting away as he shared a peaceful kiss with you. As you moved to straddle his lap something sounded downstairs and you stalled completely, your hands resting on Chan's bare chest and you frowned.

No one else had a key except for Chan - who was present and accounted for and...

"Shit!" You hissed out, rushing over to the end of the bed and throwing Chan's clothes in his direction, you looked at him to see him frowning at you.

"What?! Who is it?!" Chan sat bolt upright, panicking as you rushed to find your own clothes, you didn't have time to explain anything to him right now, all you needed to do was hurry up and get dressed before someone walked into your room.

"Yn, this would be a bad time to tell me you're secretly married with a husband." Chan chuckled lightly trying to make you talk to him but you shook your head at him, whimpering a little as you heard the front door slam shut.

"I'm not..I-I just- You need to go."

"What? Why?" The confusion was written across his face as he got dressed, grabbing his bag from your hands as you swallowed a lump that was in your throat.

"Yn! Get down here! We need to talk!" Your mother's voice screeched from down the stairs making your whole body tense up so hard you were afraid you were never gonna move again.

"Y-You need to get out of here before they see you," Your voice barely grew louder than a whisper but Chan heard you as he frowned,

"Why can't they see me?" Chan's voice came out in a whisper too and you cringed as you heard your brothers rumbling around in the kitchen,

"P-Please." Your shakey voice made Chan panic but he nodded his head, a little unsure as to where all of this was coming through.

The two of you had been going out long enough that you could easily meet one another's family, hell, you'd already met Chan's and they all adored you. Whenever Chan had asked about your family, you'd told him it was "complicated" and that you weren't that close but for them to walk into your home it seemed pretty close to him,

"Explain to me what's going on." He wasn't demanding but more concerned, your mother sounded pissed off and he wasn't going to leave you alone if you were worried about them.

"I will...later, I'll distract them and you can go out the front door." You looked out of the blinds to make sure none of them were waiting in the back and you made your way to the bedroom door, your heart racing rapidly inside of your chest.

"Yn," Chan whispered, his chest aching a little at the thought of you hiding him like he was some kind of dirty secret. All of your friends had met him, even your co-workers but you weren't introducing him to the people that mattered most and it pained him.

"I have to go. Please just leave." You barely gave him any chance to fight you on it before you walked out of the bedroom door and headed toward the living room.

"It's too late for you to still be in bed, you shouldn't sleep so much." Your mother's voice carried to the bedroom and Chan waited until he heard you shut the living room door before making a break for it.

The front door to your boyfriend's place creaked open as you stepped inside, your shoulders slumped as you let out an exasperated sigh and kicked off your shoes. You expected to see Chan waiting for you with open arms but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Chan?" You called out before walking further into the home but something felt completely off about it all. The living room felt uneasy and the air felt thick with tension as you noticed the dim lights and Chan sitting in a chair staring at you with a frustrated look on his face. 

The air felt heavy as if it was carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you and Chan from earlier in the morning. 

"Chan-" You started but never got to finish, 

"We've been together for five months and you've never introduced me to your family." You knew the two of you were going to talk about this tonight but you were hoping you could do it within the comfort of your boyfriend's arms.

"Chan, it's complicated." You breathed out, dropping your bag onto the floor and taking in a deep breath. You'd been trying to figure out where to start with this all day but you still didn't know how or even where to begin.

"Complicated? What seems complicated because they all seemed pretty happy to swing by your place today." He grumbled at you, you looked down at the floor before switching your gaze back to Chan who was staring daggers at you.

"They weren't invited." You mumbled a little because they weren't. They weren't supposed to use the key unless there was an emergency and after the fight you'd had the previous day you figured they'd never wanna see you again anyway.

"They're family, they come whenever they want. My family is the same." Chan reminded you and you rolled your eyes a little. Chan's family were great, they came around but announced it first, and sometimes sent a quick text to prepare him but yours weren't like that.

"Yeah, well your family is different than mine." Your family were different than most, they would drop by unannounced or call you at work demanding you leave and go to them right away.

"How?" He arched a brow at you. All day he'd been left to stew in his own thoughts and he'd come to one conclusion about everything and that was that you were ashamed to be with him and that was why you hadn't introduced him yet.

"It's-"

"Complicated," You both said at the same time before Chan let out a loud scoff at you, shaking his head before sitting down in the chair. This felt like a losing battle every single time he brought up the subject of your family,

"We've talked about it all before and you always brush it off. I feel like a dirty little secret."

"You're not a secret, Chan...It's just-"

"Just what?!" He finally yelled, losing his patience with you as tears built in his eyes. He wasn't the type to cry in front of you but he was losing his will and needed to know if there was something wrong with him that you would hide part of yourself away from him.

"They're just...They're different," Tears began to well up in your eyes as you stared at him. Your family had been one of the main reasons you swore off dating for the longest time. You'd never wanted to have to introduce anyone to your family so long as you could have helped it. 

"Are you ashamed of me? Is that why we haven't been introduced?" He questioned, staring at you as you sniffled a little, you never wanted him to feel that way because of something you were doing. It had nothing to do with him and all to do with your family,

"No...Chan, it's not that," You sighed shaking your head.

"I just need some more time to figure out how to handle this." You explained, taking in deep breaths but Chan was through with waiting if it meant hiding behind closed doors and sneaking out of the house like he was a teenager.

"Time won't solve anything if we don't face it! We're supposed to be a team...Yn..." You stared at him as you felt the doubt hanging over you like a dark cloud.

You'd been taught never to depend on anyone else no matter what but Chan had been breaking that thought ever since the two of you had met. He'd been breaking every lesson your family had hammered into you over the years and you loved him for it.

"Let me in, Yn...Let me be there for you,"

"I need...time." Your voice cracked as Chan growled a little, standing up and staring at you.

"How much time do you need? Huh? This affecting our relationship and I can't just keep waiting around for you to be ready." Your eyes landed on his as you shook your head. It sounded like he was getting ready to break up with you and the whole point of hiding him from your family was to avoid that,

"Chan, please." You pleaded desperately with him, reaching out for his hands but he stepped further away from you, shaking his head.

"I love you, Chan, and I want to be with you just give me...a little time to figure things out with them." You begged, watching as Chan's eyes softened a little.

"I want to be with you too Yn but we can't keep avoiding it. It isn't fair on either of us." You sighed a little rubbing the bridge of your nose and nodding, you knew he was right but it didn't make you feel any better about all of this,

"We're not teenagers, I don't want to sneak around anymore." He finished and you looked up at him.

"My family are...They have certain beliefs." You told him plainly, sitting down on the edge of his sofa and trying to figure out the best way to approach all of this. It wasn't religion-based but your family believed that certain things had to be a certain way for families to be able to work and grow. It was safe to say you didn't share a lot of their beliefs since you'd done everything you could to get away from them ever since you were at a legal age to do so.

"They have a whole thing about dating, I'm not supposed to date anybody without them giving their approval," You scoffed a little and shook your head as you finally let it off your chest, a weight felt as though it was coming straight off you as well

"You know, it took me almost six years to convince them to let me move out."

"Let you?" Chan asked softly as he sat down on the chair, staring at you as he waited for you to elaborate on it some more,

"I wasn't allowed to work either, they stopped me working. Claiming I needed to be a homemaker for your future partner."

"But you weren't married to anyone..." Chan hoped you weren't since the two of you had been dating for so long and you laughed dryly and shook your head,

"No, but they had plans for me and I broke them down so I wouldn't have to fit in the mould that they had for me."

"Yn.." He whispered, sympathy leaking from his words as he moved to kneel on the spot in front of you, your eyes finding his as you finally let the damn break and you told him everything.

"Every Saturday is reserved for them. I have to go around there, and we talk about work and life at home it was the condition they had for letting me move out...That and no dating," You laughed dryly and Chan moved to sit beside you, holding your hand tightly. 

"I hadn't told them about us yet because I didn't want them to rush me back to their place...To shield me away and I certainly don't want them to judge you." You looked at him with tears running down your cheeks.

"I'm scared I'll lose you." Chan grabbed your hand in his and squeezed them softly. There was no way on this earth that he was ever going to let you go without a great fight,

"You're not going to lose me...Ever and you're certainly not going to face it alone, Yn. I'm here for you, no matter what." He told you and you smiled weakly, you wanted to believe him but if your family were set on something they weren't just going to back down from it.

"I appreciate it, Chan, but they're difficult." You told him as he gently wiped the tears from your cheeks and shook his head, he didn't care how difficult they were he was never going to let you go through any of it alone.

"Then we can stay hidden as long as you need but sooner or later you'll have to face them...I plan on making you my future spouse and spending forever with you." Your cheeks began to heat as you looked at him, 

"We're in this together, I love you." He whispered before kissing your forehead, your chest tightening a little as you nodded.,

"I love you too and I'll tell them...eventually. I just-"

"We'll tell them together whenever you're ready." He said, cutting you off and kissing your cheek softly. You thought about it and laughed a little, they were going to hate you introducing a man you'd already been dating for months.

"They won't like it."

"Then they'll have to get over it. If they try and take you from me they'll have a big fight on their hands." He winked at you before you cuddled into his chest, relaxing for the first time since that morning and letting out a small and happy sigh.

"Let's go upstairs and finish our lazy day." He told you before you kissed him softly and made your way toward the staircase.

"I'll be up, I'm going to order your favourite." He chuckled as he watched you happily jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.

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[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Smile❤️ (Yandere X Loser!Reader)

Micky thought that he couldn't feel love.

Ever since he could remember, Micky couldn't connect with anyone on an emotional level. Even his own family members were like aliens to him, creatures that stretched their lips into strange contortions, ETs that became unreasonable when he wouldn't do the same. As a teenager many girls flirted with him in school, hell, a few guys did as well, but none of their confessions ever stirred any emotion from him, even at the height of his puberty. The smiles of the people around him never felt warm or welcoming. Just, tight. Cheeks pulled back, revealing teeth, expecting him to mirror their action, and Micky couldn't understand why.

Nothing made him smile.

College was further isolating. Group projects seemed to no longer be a thing, (at least in the classes he took) so his interactions with humans slowly became less frequent, making his classmates look more inhuman and monstrous.

Until someone in his college was doxxed for being a creep. It was interesting, watching how quickly people turned on their friend, forcing him into an outcast because someone online revealed his private post history.

An annoying young woman in his language arts class gathered people around Micky's seat to talk about what had happened. Micky wouldn't have searched up the drama on his own time, but he didn't see the point in pushing everyone away.

"This user on Xforums, anonymousXnightmare is the one who doxxed Nathan."

AnonymousXnightmare? How fucking lame.

"That's a lame username..."

"Maybe it's a kid..?"

Micky did his best to ignore them, but the username kept popping up in conversation throughout campus. It was getting a little annoying. Some people were mocking the name, while others were praising the "internet hero". It started interfering with his ability to focus in his classes.

But the gossip cooled down after a week, and life began to run as normal, until another student had their life ruined. A football player, they didn't post anything incriminating or disturbing. It was anonymousXnightmare who posted their own collected evidence. Pictures taken from afar of the player with his highschool sweetheart, as in sweetheart who was still in highschool. Recordings of the two of them. Months of stalking all compiled by the stranger.

Again, Micky was bombarded by chatter, excitable young adults losing their minds over the situation. It was... irritating.

Back in his dorm room, Micky was scrolling through Xforums, the most popular forum used by students in his university, made by students for students, searching for the loser with the lame username. Scrolling past the photos he had heard about, he found a post stating

"Dear Allen Brackens, if you cannot stop blasting your shitty music in the halls on your shitty speakers, I WILL ruin your life!"

and Micky had to lean back, to just take in what he had read. That must have been the name of the football player. What he was doing was genuinely gross, and should have been exposed by someone. But did this poster really stalk them for what looked like months just because he listened to music they didn't like?

It was so dumb.

He scrolled down farther into the mystery poster's history, to the first man they doxxed.

"Dear Nathan McAllister, we all know you're a two faced little bitch. Either stop littering the campus with your Jesus pamphlets, or else..."

Micky, for the first time in his life, was amused. The whole situation was so stupid. They really ruined their fellow students lives, just because they annoyed them?

He made an account just to follow his mystery poster, not sure yet why he was interested to see what they would post next.

Less than two days later, and Micky's phone notified him of another post.

"Dear Samantha Rudbeckia, your obnoxious laughter is driving me insane. Can't you see how annoying you are? Knock it off."

That was it?! That was enough to set you off? Laughter? Micky paused mid step, still staring down at his phone. Something felt off about his face. It hurt.

It was pretty easy to find anonymousXnightmare in his school. Micky picked up a map of the university, and mapped out the paths of the three people targeted. They ran into a lot of different students throughout their day. But they only ran into a couple of people who openly seemed to hate them, and only one of those people was a student named (Reader). (Reader), who constantly appeared as though they would collapse at any moment, the hollows under their eyes so dark they looked sickly. (Reader), who despite being borderline anemic, was very sneaky, and very good and being unnoticeable despite their extreme appearance. Unfortunately for them, they had someone watching them as closely as they watched their victims bullies. Micky watched as they stealthily snapped photos of students from around corners, how they seemed to blend into the background and nobody noticed them hiding in waiting.

Micky felt ashamed for ever thinking you were lame. You were.. cute.

The way you crouched like a bug, hunched over like a roly poly scared of being picked up. The way you bit your dry lips in anger to the point they bled.

Micky's face hurt more and more. Every time he saw (Reader) a pain he had never felt before would strain at his cheeks, and his face would feel hot all over. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of himself in his reflection in a window that Micky realized he was smiling. He never knew that smiling hurt. But he couldn't stop it.

Pictures and videos of Samantha and her married professor were posted online, and Micky was excited to know what (Reader's) face would look like when they reaped the fruits of their labor. But when he snuck into their classroom, zooming in on their exhausted face with his phone's camera, he felt a new emotion seeing that (Reader) was just as annoyed as they always were. A hard pit fell from his ribs into his lower stomach. He was disappointed.

Why aren't you happy? You won. You should be rejoicing right now.

He felt conflicted and confused. Like an octopus was throwing a tantrum in his abdomen, squirming uncomfortably. And it ruined his day. Micky couldn't focus on any of his classes, and the rest of his day was like a foggy dream. What was it about (Reader) that attracted him to them so much?

A cute young woman with smooth black hair approached Micky, a dark blush complimenting her picture perfect face.

"Um, excuse me? Excuse me? Excuse me?"

Micky snapped out of his thoughts, turning his gaze down towards the beautiful person. Her rosey lips were slightly upturned in a posed way.

She's smiling.

Micky internally verbalized it. The same way he did whenever he saw anyone smiling. It never looked good. Smiling was so awkward, and strange. People loved seeing others smiling, and smiled when they were happy, but it always reminded Micky of how not one of them he was.

"Hi! My name is Maggie."

I don't care.

"We have econ together?"

"Okay."

Why was seeing her smile make her look fake, inhuman, alien? Just like everyone else. Then why was Micky so let down seeing (Reader's) lukewarm reaction to their victory?

"I was wondering, I mean, (laughs), a group of us are going out for drinks later, and we, I was wondering if you wanted to come with us.."

She giggled nervously, fiddling her fingers and biting her lip. The image of (Reader) practically eating their lower lip was triggered like a trap. This woman, whose name wasn't worth remembering, made Micky feel nothing. The uncanny feeling of speaking with a living mannequin or an advanced AI. Her movements weren't natural, her smile was just a contraction of muscles. Then, like an epiphany, Micky realized all at once what made (Reader) so special.

Maybe, it wasn't that everyone else was alien, but Micky. Micky was the only one who never fit in. The only one who didn't feel emotions or connect with others like everyone else could. And there was a bug walking around in human clothes, barely staying awake in class and casually ruining peoples' lives simply because they annoyed them. (Reader) wasn't a human either, just like Micky. That's why they didn't seem happy with their victory. Why would a human bring them joy?

Micky's lips pulled tight, smiling brightly at the young woman before walking away without saying a word.

You're the first person to make me feel, because you're just like me. Right, (Reader)? If no one but you can make me feel, then no one but me should be able to make you smile!

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

(Reader) slouched over their laptop, their messy hair pulled back in a top bun just to keep their untrimmed bangs out of their eyes in the privacy of their dorm, eating another cup of noodle while reading all of their "fan mail". Samantha wasn't getting kicked out like they had hoped, but Professor what's-his-nuts did get canned, so hopefully when Samantha comes back to class she'll be too busy sobbing "woe is me" to find anything funny.

Ba-ding♪

A private message popped up from an account with an automated username.

(Reader) snorted so hard a noodle went up into their sinuses.

user01793664544001: I know who you are <3

"Ah-ow! God damn!"

anonymousXnightmare: Who the fuck is this?

user01793664544001: ur prince charming <3

anonymousXnightmare: Don't fuck with me

user01793664544001: come find me

"Watch me, bitch."

Looking up IP addresses is a lot easier than people make it seem. It doesn't take a genius hacker to doxx someone. Of course, (Reader) goes above and beyond, often following assholes for months to collect evidence of their douche baggery. (Reader) got an address in less time than it took to finish their noodles, and took down their hair, quickly setting out to start getting information on their newest "bully".

The address took them to another dorm across campus. How dumb are they? (Reader) faux chuckled, feeling superior to this newest dick. No one was quite as smart as them.

As they crept through the building, no one payed them any attention as they began taking notes on the residents. It had to be one of these losers.

They didn't have a chance to fight back, as they passed one of the rooms the door opened and pulled them inside faster than they had a chance to scream. The man who abducted (Reader) wrestled them to the floor, panting heavily.

(Reader) glared up at the handsome stranger, smiling down at them in a creepy way, his cheeks twitching like he had never smiled before, like his face hurt from the small action. His face was pink and he was sweating, panting with a feverish moisture glazing his eyes.

"Aren't you happy? You found me~"

"G-Get off of me, you pervert!" (Reader) attempted to kick the kidnapper off of them.

This wasn't the answer he was looking for. His smile fell briefly before bouncing back.

"You're just upset because you don't know me yet. Don't worry, it took me a while to realize you and I were the same species as well, so don't worry. I'll wait, I'll wait for you to realize you love me too..."

He rambled quickly, pressing harder against (Reader's) body. A strange noise squeaked out of his throat as he seemed startled, (Reader) feeling a bulge form against their upper thigh.

"Ah, I'll wait.. I'll wait for you to love me too.. but I need you to do something for me while I wait.."

Micky stuck his fingers in (Reader's) mouth, pulling their dry lips out till they bled across his skin.

"Smile for me..."

[iznsfw]

Ms. Kang Hyewon

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

9,122 words

Categories | femdom, mommy kink, degradation, angry sex, choking

Content warning | blackmail, degradation, Hyewon isn't so innocent here

Well, well, well, look who came back with Day 3.

My promise remains. Expect more, but on separate days. I won't run away with your money like a certain pre-

Thread isn’t claustrophobic. It slips through spaces not even your fingernail could pierce apart. Effortlessly, too. It isn’t afraid of being knotted up. It just needs guidance: a pinch to lead it through the eye and a pull to seam it through the hem. 

You wish you wielded the same fearlessness. It’s thinner and more fragile than you (highly debated) yet it’s hardened to its life. The only thing you’re granted as a similarity to it is the need for guidance, not all of that shit about courage. 

Maybe that’s why you became a fashion designer. 

Needles have their own strengths, too. They’re not cowards to inflicting pain for aesthetics. Why do you think they stab so effortlessly through fabric and silk and skin and whatnot? They sharpen themselves through softness, and all that edge goes straight into the process.

And sometimes, your fingers.

“Fuck.” Your reverie is broken at last. From your thumb, a trail of red leaks. You’re used to the minor cuts and wounds, but the blood really does something to you. It reminds you of how fragile human anatomy is. One uncalculated move can end it all. 

“You good?” asks Eunbi. 

Suck on your thumb. A metallic taste settles over your tongue. She peers at you curiously; wave your hand at her dismissively to tell her it’s fine. This is everyday for you, like you said. Your heart will pump anxiously but that goes away, too. It’s all a vestige of time.

Flatten the vest top on the table. Wait, it’s not exactly a top yet if fringes of thread splay from the edges. You still have to work on that. Nothing is something when it’s not completed. It’s either you finish it grandly or leave it in pathetic tatters. 

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just a little nervous,” you reply. 

“I mean,” Eunbi laughs as she fixes her short hair into a ponytail, “she is Kang Hyewon.”

Not that she needs to remind you. Your nerves are in a wreck already. You’ve been replaying the pros of the situation in your head like a favorite song. Working for Hyewon would look good in your resumés. If time sees fit, you’d have your own line and everyone would want to wear it. Your name could be a staple of fashion, the god of gods. Something like that.

It only sucks that you’re painfully new to this world. This is the first time you’re this far from your family and friends. Seoul’s a far cry from your humble town. It’s the home of everything that matters. Nights of staying up drawing and designing couldn’t harden you for an industry that sways and shakes out the unfit.

This is your chance to find out if you’re one of them.

“The superstar who’s about to wear my shitty clothes.”

“They’re anything but shitty. You have seriously good ideas.” Always, Eunbi comes in to reassure you. That’s why you see her as a mentor. “She wouldn’t turn down wearing couture if she didn’t see potential in what you make.”

See, you would never have agreed to any of this. You’re a fresh graduate from some fashion school, and the only models you’ve worked on are the runway rejects. Fixing a sloppy first draft on a stick-thin, soulless girl is different from designing and dressing up Kang Hyewon. 

She’s everything—model, actress, singer, and idol. She’s a gem for every brand out there. They’re all dying to get her to be their ambassador. Every director with a complete brain wants to cast her for their new drama. 

And it’s her who can lift you to heights in your career. So you’d be an idiot not to seal the deal.

“Have you worked with her before?”

As your needle sews a story of fabric, Eunbi’s words whittle her story with Hyewon. Turns out, this is only her second time working with the star. She confirms that Hyewon is truly gorgeous in person with those god-given full lips and hardset eyes. 

Apparently, first impressions are right after all when it’s with her—she’s a silent, withholding woman who doesn’t talk outside of necessity. Eunbi tells you her nerves were in knots the first time, but also informs you that as long as you do your job for her properly, there isn’t gonna be any problem.

“Just be careful in what you do and say,” Eunbi whispers. She peeks over at your nearly finished piece. “That’s turning out really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.” 

Look proudly at your handiwork. It’s a sleeveless top fashioned from denim, with a V-shaped curve at the stomach. You’ve attached strips of more denim on the front that are sewn on with threads that match the blue of the ocean, embedded into the chest to prevent dullness. You think it’s turning out pretty good, too.

You would’ve gone on smiling if it weren’t for what you remembered. “Wait, why do I have to be careful?”

“She’s not, like, shy or anything. Just really unfiltered when it comes to feedback. She told me the eyeliner I did on her was shit, and that I shouldn’t come back if I planned on doing that again.”

Doubts about the beauty of your design rise. It might look good in your eyes, but what if it doesn’t in hers? She’d probably see the lack of color and call it a monstrosity. She’s got the type of power to get away with brutal words, to leave your little self-confidence in pieces.

The leg-hugging jeans and vest now look painfully average to you. There’s no debating that she’d look good in it, but there’s that constant back-and-forth argument in your head about whether or not Hyewon would like it. 

“Were you hurt?” you ask.

Eunbi wipes red lipstick from the edges of her mouth with the mirror’s reflection as guidance, then smiles. “She’s the kind of woman I’d let do more than hurt me.”

-

You don’t know what that was about, but you’re not one to pry. You don’t have the time anyway.

Assistants have poured into the room. It’s your sign to put in more work—their arrival means that Hyewon is about to come very soon. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, the kind that looks good but not too good that it takes away the fact that they’re just staff. 

Eunbi shifts her weight from one stiletto to another. “Are you done?” she asks. She gazes over at your sewing as she taps anxious rhythms on the vanity table. Notice how she’s taken off her acrylics and in turn shows her cruelly bitten fingernails. 

You huff. “I’m trying.” 

Stick a red-studded pin through the denim to keep the vest in place. What shade of blue did you use again? Staring for lengthy minutes at your messy table doesn’t help you find it. Your chalks have left pink powder on the wood. Your threads are unspooled and everywhere. In the midst of it all, the star’s vest sits, still waiting to be finished. 

“She’s getting here in five!” Yena shouts.

“Any updates there?” Eunbi says pleadingly to you, eyes full of tears.

“I said I’m trying, Eunbi.”

“Then try harder, fuck!” 

Her hands have abandoned their rhythms and are squeezed up into tiny, helpless fists. She keeps peeking out of the dressing room as if she’d die on the spot if Hyewon were there already. This is the first time you’ve seen Eunbi this beside herself. Even her crew is shocked. Her fear infects them too and now all sets of scared eyes are on you. They’re depending on your speed for their careers. If you fall short, they fall short, too. It’s a domino effect of failure. 

Yena pushes aside the hangers of clothing to frisk for the makeup kit. Chaeyeon has her hands in her air while Minju whimpers behind her. They all know one thing for sure: you’re never gonna finish on time.

Your needle fits and slips, fits and slips, fits and slips—

“Can’t you go any faster?” cries out Eunbi.

The thread almost pulls the rest of the fabric along it when you pull furiously. “Unless you want me to get stabbed in the fucking wrist,” you say, “I can’t.”

You prick yourself multiple times trying to speed up. Push the layered denim down. It’s like drowning a needle, letting it go up from the waves of clothes for air, then drowning it again. However, you don’t care for any casualties right now. You don’t care for deaths either. All you want is to do is finish this piece.

You hear three short knocks on the door. Your world stops, but your sewing doesn’t. You can do this. You can still make it look somehow finished. 

“Ms. Kang!” 

Curl.

Thread. 

Knot.

You’re done. It’s safe to turn around.

All of the women along with Eunbi have bowed deeply. Standing in front of them is the straight-postured form of the adored celebrity. The assistants look like they’re an estranged cult of some sorts who’s worshiping a goddess who’s come to earth.

Strangely, you find out that, as you stare at Kang Hyewon, you understand.

You can now grasp the idea why she’s ventured into so many fields: she can do it all. She can be it all.

Her hair is as black as night, and so are her irises. Her expression tells you no background, not even of a troublesome drive or a good meal. No, not any of that, for Hyewon’s face is a serious little look of professionalism. It’s the kind people of her status wear—celebrated doctors, movie stars, activists. But for some reason, it looks so much hotter on her. 

It would take skilled mathematicians and scientists to find out what’s behind her neutral expression, but it doesn’t take a degree to know that she’s downright beautiful.

The pictures her dedicated fansites take of her truly don’t do justice to her attractiveness. Her face is smaller than a child’s. The nonchalant stare in her eyes makes her look out of this world, which could be said too for her preppy clothes. She’s a fashion icon for the younger generation after all.

A natural pair of plump lips doesn’t show a sign of a smile. Nevertheless, she’s a beautiful woman. You assume that it’s how it is for her everyday, just like drawing is your daily routine.

“Hello.” Hyewon’s voice is surprisingly feminine yet husky. She looks at you all indifferently, then places her bag on a nearby chair. Each action of hers is minimal and measured.

“Would you like to get dressed, Ms. Kang?” asks Eunbi, her voice a pitch too high.

She nods.

You hand over the jeans and shirt. Make a beeline for the exit. There’s a reason why an all-female staff was hired for Hyewon. You were taught in school that you best not dress them up directly if they’re a celebrity and you aren’t known in the industry yet. There’s all the reason to fear: hidden cameras and microphones, leaked footage, the like. While you’re not a man whose intentions are dark, you still follow protocol.

“What are you running away for?” 

Your shoes stop paving the way to the door. Was that Hyewon? “What?” you say.

Eunbi winces. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. You don’t state that in that tone to a woman of that class.

Hyewon sighs audibly. “Can you look me in the eyes when I talk to you?”

You’re cold yet trepidation prickles your skin like fire. Slowly, almost comically, turn around. Her coat is off, leaving her in a skirt and a sleeveless undershirt on which she’s crossed her arms above. So how can you look at her directly? That body of hers is shockingly easy on the eyes.

“You’re the fashion designer, right?” she asks. 

Smile awkwardly. “I, uh—”

“Then why are you leaving? Come over here and help me. I want to see if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m, a little, uh, actually—”

“You’re actually what?”

Your mouth’s dry. Eunbi and her crew look too scared to remind her that you’re an amateur. You haven’t dressed up a star and you definitely aren’t a professional. 

But what can you do? Look at her—a woman who could crumble your career into shards if she said so and blacklist you from the industry forever—and tell her no? 

So, you approach.

Is it a blessing that you’re granted the honors of removing her underclothes? Or a curse? 

As you undress her, you’re given the affirmation that her body is more than easy on the eyes. It’s fucking to die for. Her waist isn’t concerningly tiny, but shows a defined curve that elevates to her torso. Her breasts are large for her frame, barely fitting the size of her lace bra.

“Woah, what are you doing?” you say, eyes wide at Eunbi suddenly unclasping said bra. You feel like a Victorian man catching sight of ankles.

Eunbi looks confused. “Didn’t you say a bra would ruin the look? And that we should use nipple tape?”

Hyewon stares at her, then looks at you, waiting for an answer. 

“Oh, right.” You chuckle tensely. “Sorry.”

Your lips are pursed to keep you from hissing in embarrassment. Now you probably look like a creep. Your fright and wariness are taking control, and you have no idea what to do. 

You conveniently close your eyes when the bra’s taken off. Take the vest from Yena and raise it above Hyewon’s head. No matter what, you’ll keep your eyes up. Not below, where her breasts are sure to catch you off guard; not to the side, where they might be assuming you’re everything bad; but up. Nowhere else.

“It looks beautiful on you.” Minju’s smile is less nervous now that the job is done. 

Her remark is nothing short of the truth. The garment slips onto Hyewon’s body like water. The defined carve of her clavicle stands out above the conservative neckline. Still, her bare arms alone will already have people thinking of something. The jeans accentuate her slim long legs elevated by a pair of expensive heels. She doesn’t need makeup to look good in what you sewed for her. Her body and face do the job. 

Hyewon doesn't respond to the compliment. She simply sits down on the swivel makeup chair, crosses her legs, and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs twiddle with a game you’ve seen her advertise before. She’s true to her endorsements.

Minju carefully fills the brims of her eyelids with sharp cat eyeliner. Hyewon still doesn’t look up from her phone. You guess she’s used to people adapting to her and not the other way around. 

You like the touch of the fierce red lipstick Eunbi applies on her later on. It’s a bold statement, something that goes like: It’s me, Kang Hyewon; this is the face of a woman who can destroy you, and I promise that you’ll love it.

“You look great, Ms. Kang,” Eunbi compliments her cheerfully, clicking the lipstick back.

Hyewon stares at herself in the mirror. She’s a silent observer, taking in her reflection and studying it closely. 

A lunar eclipse personified, a smile stretches on her lips that releases your held breaths. “I know.”

-

Mirrors lined with shining diamonds. Words that spell the house of fashion emblazoned in lights. Expensive makeup behind glass. Bags that are worth your tuition sitting on displayed pedestals as if they didn’t know their own worth. The event is a never-ending sea of vanity for the wealthy and the west. You can’t believe you’re playing a part in it, although you’re a sheep among well-dressed wolves.

Crowds of reporters and photographers wait at the main hall. There’s no questioning who they’re here for. Although Jang is undoubtedly a big name, so is Hyewon. They were right to recruit her. You’ve never seen a crowd this big, even for fashion. You wonder how much they paid her to be the ambassador. Must be millions when all the other houses are dying to have her. She doesn’t look like one who kindly allows lowballing.

Neither does this man. He’s grand in his custom Victoria Jang and shoes that have the glimmer of stars themselves as he stands at the center. He must be the MC; he has a name tag to his breast pocket and a mic in his fist.

“Dude, did you know Anya Taylor-Joy’s gonna be here?” Rafael tells you.

“The chick from that cool chess movie?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He gestures to the small screen that shows her holding a lipstick to her jaw. It would be hard to see it behind the scrambling reporters. Luckily, as the designer, you scored a nearby spot backstage. “Jennie, too!”

The two are gorgeous, but you’re honestly more interested in Hyewon. If people see she’s wearing your clothes, they’d want to hire you, too. She doesn’t follow the trend; she is the trend. Soon, you’ll see Korea filled with women wearing the same shirt, the same jeans, the same style…

“We’re proud to present Jang’s first store in Korea,” says the MC. Yep, you were right. “This is a monumental stepping stone for our founder, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Please welcome her with a hearty applause!”

You know all about Jang Wonyoung. She’s a self-made woman whose passion for beauty got the attention of the public, especially the western world. She’s always busy despite her tender age of nineteen: performing onstage with her group IVE, traveling, founding a new school in meager areas. She’s almost at the same level as Hyewon in terms of stardom.

Wonyoung comes out from the background, dressed fashionably as always. A polite smile decorates her glossed lips. It’s caught by the flashes of cameras and the reporters’ cheers. 

“Hello, thank you for coming.” She brushes back her fringe and folds her hands. “Opening a branch here in my home is an achievement I’m forever grateful for. I would like to thank you all greatly for the success it’s brought about.

“Please,” she says, “take the time to immerse yourself in our array of products. Try a new trendy look with Jang Beauty—”

She extends an arm to the variety of products protected under firm glass. There’s powder, eyeliner, and blush. Actually, there’s a little of everything. There’s colors fit for every complexion, dark or light, and a palette of rainbows. 

“—or flaunt your own style with our new arrival bags and purses.”

See, they’re the bags which immediately give the impression of expensiveness. The accessories are reserved to warm or light hues accompanied with Wonyoung’s signature rabbit logo. One even features her signature, stylishly drawn on quality canvas.

“Our helpful staff are here to answer your questions and assist you, but for now, please meet our muses.”

The camera shutters multiply when Kim Jennie enters the frame. Another “it” girl, she’s from a globally loved K-pop group whose influence couldn’t be denied even by the worst liars. She made all the buzz for Jang when a news article that quoted Wonyoung’s adoration for her was released. As expected, social media received the news happily. They made parallels with Wonyoung and Jennie, created fan accounts, and bought from Jang, even if the house initially opened in the United States.

Wonyoung’s smile is wide. You think you see a little of yourself in her. There’s certain pride in seeing someone loved and adored wearing your design. 

Jennie waves briefly to the crowd before settling in a poised stride stage left.

Anya Taylor-Joy comes in next. Rafael makes a joke about how the press would have a difficult time trying to translate her name into Hangul characters correctly. She answers a question from the crowd sweetly with a translator’s help, and stands a yard from Jennie. Seeing the two women side by side stuns you—Jang really did emphasize how there’s beauty in everything and everyone, including those from different sides of the world. 

“And finally, we would like to present Jang’s new ambassador.” Wonyoung’s beaming positively. “Welcome to Jang, Kang Hyewon!”

Suppressed screams fill your ears. The women at the mall can’t believe a friendly outing to the mall grabbed them a chance to see her in person. She’s the kind of girl who’s everywhere, and still manages to make you look. To make you want to be her or be with her. Perhaps those two at the same time?

You stare at her. Hyewon is flawless. Her slight tan is a nice break from the whiteness of the cameras. Her eyes seem to single out everybody in the crowd. The ambassador stands next to Wonyoung, a hand on her own hip, and lets a slight Mona Lisa smile paint her face.

Perfection.

How does she do so little but still attract everyone? You’re not an exception. You find yourself forgetting that you made those clothes—she owns them now. They’ll be associated with her name and not yours. 

Do you even have a problem with that?

“Jang’s vision is to highlight beauty in everyone,” Wonyoung says. “Ms. Kang Hyewon is the perfect ambassador. She is an idol, singer, dancer, model, muse, and everything you can think of. She is the personification of beauty and versatility. We are proud to have her.”

You would be, too.

You were here to make a name for yourself, not fanboy over her. Here you are anyway doing it. 

Hyewon stands next to Wonyoung and nods humbly. “I’m honored to be named the ambassador for Jang.” She bows deeply. Her hands are together on her stomach. “Please expect more from us because we will deliver.”

Perhaps that’s a statement bolder than the red painted on her lips.

“To the name of beauty!” a reporter raises a glass and chugs it. You don’t know where that came from, but it draws collective giggles. 

Wonyoung laughs. “To the name of beauty!”

Hyewon jokingly raises an imaginary shot high in the air. The simplest actions don’t bar her from being beautiful. Just look at how her hair falls perfectly over gorgeous shoulders, how her hips stick out at the sides of the jeans—

How the sound of fabric ripping loudly stuns the crowd.

Your eyes go wide. The left strap of her top has torn apart. The two aidless halves collapse on the sides uselessly. The attire sags from the front and leaks the view of one of her breasts. Maybe they should have told her to keep the bra on—her left tit with nothing but nipple tape on is painfully shown off to hundreds of people. 

Hyewon’s eyes fill with alarm. All confidence is lost as she tries to cover her exposed breast up. But the deed is done. Worse, the flashes don’t stop. The photos will soon take to the internet and, regardless of her power to bend things to their will, can never truly be eradicated. The articles will go viral, too. No one will forget this moment of Kang Hyewon finally showing vulnerability.

“Ms. Kang—” Wonyoung says in a thin voice. She didn’t imagine this special day would take a drastic turn. She awkwardly laughs, because what else can she do? As rich as she is, she can’t pay a crazed scientist to implement a memory-erasing chip in these people’s brains. The event is officially ruined.

And it’s all your fault. 

Still, she generously steps in front of Hyewon to help. Similar to every attempt to salvage her dignity, it’s useless. The ambassador she relied so much on is already walking away. She’s leaving everything behind and won’t look back. Tonight is a night of many firsts, and right now, this is her first time retreating.

Aside from the sounds of phones and camcorders, all that’s left to hear is the furious clicking of Hyewon’s heels. Her strides are short and quick.

One step, five steps, ten steps… then thirteen.

It takes a total of thirteen steps for Hyewon to exit and come to you.

You couldn’t be an unluckier dead man.

-

Hyewon is the grim reaper. She wields fury instead of a scythe, wears now defective clothes instead of a dark cloak. The imminent loss of life is frightening regardless of being faced with a pretty woman. Anyone would get on their knees and resort to the unthinkable to experience this with the celebrity right now. So why are you as cold as a corpse?

“You.” 

One word is enough to make you want to die early.

You look forward while your steps go backward. Your feet can pave the longest reversed path and you’d still be left with no escape. Hyewon is faster than you are. The rest of the staff are in the crowd or in another room; they can’t help you. Nobody can tell her to stop. 

You doubt she’d listen anyway, and you know because you’re looking in her face: the face of death. Gone is the blasé mood surrounding her, the mystery in her that people would pray rosaries to venerate. What’s taken its place is an Ares-born wrath that’s at odds with her Aphrodite visuals. Her eyes are large with anger and short angry rasps leave her mouth. 

“Ms. Kang,” you say, your words a mute plea. “Really, I apologize—” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Hyewon’s forearm knocks into your neck and catapults you to the dressing room door. The wood gives way, much to your horror. You barely make it on the plush chair with how your feet struggle to keep upright. 

She looms over you hauntingly, tall in her black heels. It’s a reminder that she really is above you in everything: positions, status, wealth—

Intimacy? 

Why is she straddling you? You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, much more where to look. Adding to her center literally being seated above your crotch, she didn’t even bother to fix her wardrobe malfunction. There’s no might left in you when her fingers curl into your collar and tighten it up to your neck. 

“You little shit.” She coils the fabric around your throat harder. Wracked coughs fight their way out of you. “An incompetent one, too. This is all your fault.”

Her voice is rougher when she’s angry. It’s like she has a switch that she clicks on and off to be what she has to be: the Kang Hyewon everyone idolizes; and the one people would be afraid of. It doesn’t take a wicked guess to figure which one you’re encountering now.

“Ms. Kang,” you say weakly, “please.” 

You inhale raggedly through your nose. Hate how comforting her expensive perfume is to your senses when she’s doing everything but making you at ease. Hate how attractive she is. Hate how you ruined the day that was supposed to change your life forever. Hate how a small part of you doesn't hate being under her. 

For others to understand you, they need to put themselves in your shoes. If an A-list star who’s as gorgeous as Hyewon was snugly seated on their lap, wouldn’t they feel the same? Wouldn’t they feel the stir in their pants, the heat in their chests?

You’re fucked in the head. But she is, too. You’re a match made in the depths of hell.

“I-I can explain.”

Your pulse beats beneath her palm. Its faltering rhythm brings cruel satisfaction to her, making her face spread into a wicked smile. 

As Hyewon’s almond eyes close into tyrannizing slits and her lips pull at the ends into a closed smirk, you realize why she rarely grins. You’re fucking terrified. It’s a simper reserved for little satisfaction and great anger. How can a woman be this beautiful yet this cruel?

“Explain then,” she allows. The ampleness of her lips has little distance to your mouth. “But if you think for one second I’m letting you go, you’re as dead as your career.”

Your career never started. You were young once. You had dreams of making yourself known and making your family proud. If today never happened, if your needle seamed the thread just a bit tighter, you still would have had a chance to go on. 

Now you’re neither young nor old, with neither a future or past.

Your dreams are broken, just like her clothes.

“Please, Ms. Kang. I was in a rush. I didn’t think it would undo like that.”

She laughs. It’s another rare occurrence that scares the shit out of you. It transforms into a sarcastic little scoff when she meets your eyes again. “I gave you days. I gave you a fucking chance to prove your worth when I could’ve hired any dickhead out there. And what did you do? You screwed it up.” 

With each word she spits, your collar wrings around you more compactly. You feel hot and breathless but to Hyewon, your skin is deadly cold to the touch. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let up.

“I’ll pay for the damage,” you offer bleakly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll admit that I was wrong to… hahk, to the media.  Just please don’t blacklist me.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t enough.”

It isn’t? What could you do? You’ve already said you’ll pay more than you can to amend. You told her you’d go to the press and bare your wrongdoings. What else does she want? She already has everything.

“You wanted to see me naked, didn't you?” Hyewon snarls. “You planned it all out.” 

You choke, and it’s not because of her hands digging into your flesh. “N-no! I swear—”

In the olden days, prophecies were told by an oracle. People would go on quests and seal their fates in accordance with them. Now, they’re in the little things, like jokes that suddenly bleed into reality, and, in your case, deja vu.

You say deja vu because you know the sound of ripping fabric all too well. 

It interrupts your words and catches you by surprise. Hyewon has wrenched apart the buttons of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your underwear peeks out above your pants, as well as the stomach you haven’t taken the time to tone in a while.

“There,” she says. She slinks down your lap till her knees touch the floor and she’s tearing your pants, too. More buttons are sent flying in the air. “Now we’re both naked. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get to say that you fucked Kang Hyewon?”

Your pants add to the pile of clothes and buttons on the ground. You can’t even blush or protest; Hyewon is unstoppable when she’s angry. Her soft hands, unlearned in the ways of hardship, somehow have the strength to cut and slice and pull at your clothing. She’s not leaving one speck of fabric on for modesty. 

“I, I don’t want to fu– to have sex with you, Ms. Kang.” 

“Baby.” Hyewon deadpans, laughing a little as she traces the curve of your cheek. “Everyone wants to fuck me.”

She takes off her shirt and tears off the nipple tapes. Her pretty brown nipples are uncovered, and you can’t stop staring. Her body is a model of perfection in every category. You’ve got her flat tummy, curved waist, wide hips, and breasts that really should have a warning sign lest you harm yourself looking at them. Unfortunately, they don’t have a warning label, and Hyewon catches your wandering eyes.

“Fucking pervert.”

You look away, but there’s nowhere else to stare, so you say, “No, please, I didn’t… no, I didn’t—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“That’s not how you say it.” Hyewon suddenly wraps her hand around your stiffening cock. Her squeeze is painful. “You sit there, bow your head, and say: ‘Sorry, mommy.’”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?” 

You yowl when she squeezes harder and starts to pump you to full mast. It’s a painful pleasure, a guilty danger. Hyewon’s eyes trained on you are even more so. 

“You heard me. If you want to save your career, do as I say.”

You whimper into the eerie silence as the woman curls her fist around your member as if she were choking it. How did you land into this situation? How were you so fucking stupid that you thought a week would be enough to finish the piece?

Now you’re here, in this enclosed dressing room, with a celebrity cruelly torturing your penis and demanding that you call her mommy. Look to the right then to the left and see that no one’s coming to your rescue. This is the real world, and as absurd as it is, you’re on your own.

Hyewon’s fingernails threaten to pierce the sensitive skin. “Be a good boy,” she growls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mommy.” 

(You mean it, you mean it, you mean it.)

“That wasn’t so hard. But I’m not done with you just yet.” 

She leans forward. Your face twists while she wraps her soft tits around you. Her cleavage is so deep, so full that your length is completely lost in it. You moan embarrassingly, and it’s too late to cover your mouth when she’s already smirking. 

“Because you wanted to see my tits so bad,” she says, rubbing her tits in opposite directions on your member, “I’m gonna fuck you with them. I don’t care if you cum like a little bitch or not; I’m not stopping.”

You’re starting to leak. Hyewon’s sweat combined with your precum lubricates you and allows for more delicious, slippery friction. She pushes herself up and down repeatedly, continuously trapping your cock between her amazing boobs. She could do this forever. On the other hand, you’re close to losing it.

“I’m not gonna stop. You brought this upon yourself. You understand me, don’t you?” 

“Yes.”

A deserved silence. Her eyes speak of an immediate death that follows a wrong answer.

Close your eyes. You know what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, mommy.”

Strangely, she’s exactly the type of woman who deserves that title. Her stony expression doesn’t evaporate from that beautiful face although sweat’s started to roll down it from how mercilessly she titfucks you. She shows no signs of sympathy for your situation. Why would she when she’s accustomed to control, and you’ve just taken that from her? You took her control from the people who’ve made her famous. This is your punishment.

Each pleasured expression you make draws a haughty smile from her. It’s as inspiring as critical acclaim to her, for she cups her tits tighter around your shaft and pumps away. You’re her toy for tonight. If she can’t regain her control over the public, she’ll show you why she deserves to have it:

One, she’s tireless. 

Her lower lip is under her teeth as she spills effort into persecuting your cock. She’s unblinking—she’s too focused on your reactions to close her eyes. It’s not like she’d care if your reaction is violent or pained or good. Hyewon would still go on fucking you.

“Of course you like this.” Spit covers your cockhead, a sign of her distaste. “You perverted virgins are all the same.”

“I’m not perverted, mommy.” 

“What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m, n-not a vir—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She continues grinding her pillowy breasts on you. Their undersides touch your balls while her nipples brush against your stomach. Whatever move she does makes you shiver. 

If you had no escape from the enigma that is Kang Hyewon, neither did your cock. Her bust makes sure of that. It surrounds it as if determined to suffocate an ejaculation out of it. The precum from your tip just isn’t enough.

Two, she doesn’t rely on anybody.

Nobody told her to fuck you. Nobody told her to strip and use you. Those are the choices she made by herself, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t perform them with dedication. She doesn’t need anybody’s help in ruining you when she can do it herself.

So she does. Hyewon sinfully lets saliva drip from her chin and onto her chest to help speed up what’s already a vicious pace. The cold drool makes you hiss. Her warm breasts are both a reprieve and retribution. They carry out soft comfort but give out your quick punishment at the same time. It’s funny to think how they’re as versatile as she is. 

Three, she’s the only one who’s ever made you cum like this.

“Mommy!” The word was never intended to be said. But it’s unavoidable; Hyewon’s too hasty, and it’s becoming too much. You can’t hold back on letting her know her ownership of you.

You can’t hold back the messiness of your cum as well. Bursts of white jet her chest and her neck. You whimper to your wits’ end and she doesn’t stop in spite of it. She keeps overstimulating you till the leak of semen becomes a mere dribble.

Hyewon climbs on your lap again, her vagina placed just in front of your spent shaft. “You’re getting used to it, huh?”

Your eyes are on her, as everyone else’s are when she’s under the lens of a camera. You’re horrified; almost every part of her torso is covered with your cum. Her tits are coated grandly with strong splashes. The white liquid drools down her tummy, then to her jeans.

You just came on Kang Hyewon.

Push her away, cursing quietly. You’ve no reputation left to save now. No dignity, no image, nothing. You should have fought back. A junior stylist shouldn’t be getting intimate with a superstar. 

“Ms. Kang, I should go,” you stammer. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

None of this was supposed to happen. You wish you could have turned back time and stopped yourself from going to fashion school. If you didn’t go, you wouldn’t have gone on the path of designing and wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to design for her and Jang. It’s all so fucked up that you’re actually reconsidering religion.

Hyewon considers this. To your relief, her professional tone returns. You’re able to breathe now. It’s over.

“You’re not gonna help me clean up?” she says finally.

“Oh… yes, I’m sorry.”

There’s no tissues or washcloths around. You have to be resourceful. It’s painful wiping up something so inappropriate with the shirt you designed, but it’ll do. The semen embeds into the denim during your dutiful clean-up. It’s humiliating—the only thing that comforts you is that, after this, you and Hyewon will part ways and never speak again. You both have something to hold over the other. Keeping your mouths shut will keep you safer than sorrier.

More worries surface. Did someone hear or see you? Are there hidden cameras here? You’ll have to inspect the place, especially after you think you don’t remember Hyewon locking the door.

“Thank you.” Hyewon crosses her arms and looks down at the stained vest that started all of this. “Now suck your cum out of it.”

You want to cry. This is far from over. You’re not done here, and you won’t be until she says so.

She cocks her head. “I paid for it, and I don’t want flaws,” she says matter-of-factly. “So you either suck your filth out now or I might just drop the Somun magazine editor a visit.”

Stare at her with tear-filled eyes. What can you do?

Attach your lips to the blemished denim. Suck on it forcefully. The taste brings more tears and some even slide in pathetic drops down your face. How did it all come to this? The amount of hard work you put in school surely did not earn you this, right?

You were raised too soft. Maybe hanging out with the rebellious boys back in elementary would have saved you her domination. You could have negotiated with her, maybe even argued that you weren’t allowing this to happen to you. But those happen in parallel universes, where you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. Here, you’re just a man who’s not particularly excellent. 

“Good job,” Hyewon says. “I guess you’re not that much of a lost cause.”

Her backhanded praise is sweet to your ears rather than mocking.

She clicks her tongue. “All that cum should have went in my pussy, you know.” 

You hang your head to hide your blush. You’re glad thoughts aren’t visually presented. Otherwise, Hyewon would put you down further. 

Hyewon places a finger below your chin and tilts it up. You’re forced to meet her eyes. There comes all the hate again. It pours into your heart freely like a fountain. It’s not hate for her, but for yourself. If you didn’t crumple that easily for women like Hyewon—women who like control and give orders and get a kick out of humiliating other people—maybe a whole other fate would have been in store for you.

Fright always gives way to yearning. She’s a bitch who thinks too highly of herself, although understandably so. She hurt you so much and through it all, you still want to hear her praise you.

She smiles. 

Yep, Kang Hyewon is irredeemably, irrevocably evil.

“And you owe me a whole lot of it,” she says, and adds, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “baby boy.”

No horror film can scare you like she does. She’s a phantom of beauty and power who will haunt you forever. All this could be done and you’d still think about her. You’ve become another one of Hyewon’s fanatics who allows her to do anything and everything to them. 

Hyewon shoves you on the dressing table. The cold white surface cools your skin, but you know it’s about to get heated soon. She’s spanned her legs over your hips again. Her aggressive hands grip your shoulders. Somehow, you never want them to leave your touch. 

Then you’re kissing her. The other way around, you mean—Hyewon initiates it by closing the distance and biting your lip. She’s a starved kisser who devours you like a wolf. Her tongue curls around yours and she dives in deeper. You’re deprived of any breath, any source of oxygen. Part your lips to kiss her back, but she’s already locked her mouth on them.

Hyewon sweeps her hair back, readying herself for the final act. If mirrors could blush, you have no question that they would upon seeing her. Attractiveness is a natural thing to her—you can see it in the sway of her arms, the thickness of her thighs, and the way she carries herself. She acts like she’s entitled to everything, and that includes your cock.

She’s too fucking hot that you’d ignore all her cons and give it up to her.

She knows that. She circles her core around your tip. You moan immediately. She feels so good, and you’re not even inside her yet. 

“You like that?” she sneers after she pulls away. “You like my pussy on your cock?”

She grinds her slit along your cockhead. Her moans are surprisingly sensitive, high in pitch and airy. You’re granted exclusive listening to them when you hit her clit. She moves it there particularly, because those moaned questions she asked you are just for her own ego. She only cares for her own pleasure, and it just so happens to be ignited by a weak man whose type is crazy, unhinged women. Whose type just so happens to be her.

She’s so wet that sounds of drenched squeaks fill your ears. You’re nothing else except certain that she really, really gets off on being such a bitch. Her wicked leer couldn’t ever fade from her face, not if you keep flashing those exhausted needy expressions.

“Answer me,” Hyewon says. She glides her fingertips from your broad shoulders to your neck. A threatening grip, a deadly fate. “You know mommy doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Do you want me to ride your cock, hm?” Every fragment she speaks makes her choke you harder. She’ll send you to heaven then hell, where you’ll meet her all over again. “Do you want me to keep you inside me until I’m all done and satisfied?”

“Yes… oh fuck, please!”

“I fucking thought so.”

She sinks herself down in one go. You cry out. Hyewon’s tight pussy welcomes you and traps you right up to the hilt. The hard grip of her cunt disallows you a break; her pace is one of anger that’s unrelenting and harsh. 

Her thighs crash down on your lap and rise, a cycle that never ends. You’re left even more breathless by her soft breasts smothering you. It’s the best way to go out. They bounce marvelously in front of your face, your nose pressed to the little space between them and your mouth kissing wherever it can. You lick at her tits until you’ve licked all the cum that might have remained on them. 

Your lips attach themselves to her nipple. As an effect, the star’s cunt clamps around you with the hold of a guilty pleasure, a taboo vice. It doesn’t intend on letting go unless you decide you want it to go. But you have the feeling that your probable pleas won’t budge Hyewon’s heart. 

“Mommy’s baby boy,” Hyewon says. Her tightness grows and so does the volume of her heavy gasps. “Mommy’s slutty baby boy who’d do anything to get this pussy.”

You want to tell her that what she said is far from the truth. You didn’t want to cause a wardrobe malfunction. You didn’t want to anger her. But now, when presented with the heat of her impossibly wet vagina, you realize you actually would. You try to meet her expectations, nursing on her nipple and guiding her movements with your hands on her wide hips. What you want is for this to be enough, but it just isn’t. Hyewon always wants more.

You can see it in the crash of her butt on your thighs, the shouty cries that she lets go of, the grip on your neck that she doesn’t. A woman accustomed to the scrutiny of the public eye would never let a strand of her hair go knotted. But when it comes to punishing people, to making them the accessory she carries, she doesn’t care anymore. Her usually prepared and counted movements become frantic. Her quietness isn't a  case of the current times when she’s using you as her little fucktoy. 

Kang Hyewon is a mess, and you are, too.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your yells crack and fade—she doesn’t.

Hyewon doesn’t let up. Her fluttering walls make sure to leave your legs stagnant. You can feel her manicured nails scrape your skin and her thin legs hug your hips. The hours she spends in the gym can’t be that long for her stamina to remain this strong. Maybe she has a personal trainer, a healthy diet. Maybe she owns some weights around the house.

Maybe she owns you.

“You sound pathetic. Just keep sucking those tits.” She removes her hand from the base of your neck, but leaves you asphyxiated anyway when she pushes her face into her breasts. 

The mirror bears your combined weight. You try to lift your head. Hyewon chases your movements. You’re forced to inhale through your nostrils, taking in her powdery perfume and lightly sweaty scent, and keep your mouth busy on her boobs. 

You flick her nipple with your tongue. She holds you to her chest and promises no escape. To be fair, you could stay here, smothered by her breasts forever. You’d have little complaint when they’re heavy and soft and sweaty. Your mouth stays attached to them and brings her on the road to orgasm.

“Greedy little boy,” Hyewon scoffs. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I bet you held it out just so I could keep riding you.”

Your cock feels sore already. Although her insides are warm and soaked enough for the entering and leaving to be slick, you’ve been trying to hold back for so long you think you’ll cry. You have to tell her. Perhaps it’ll lessen her anger. 

“I’m gonna cum, please, mommy.”

She cruelly bounces faster. Her hips are that of a veteran dancer’s, grinding to and fro and rotating. You’ve figured it out: the reason why she’s never had a dating scandal is that no man would be able to handle her. She’d drain him nightly. She’d treat him like a sex toy to use when she pleases. Everyone wants to be hers, but no one is ready for her.

“Do you deserve to cum inside this perfect pussy?” she asks. She splays her lips and grinds upwards. You groan loudly. “You’re lucky if I even spit on you. What makes you think you can explode in mommy?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” You tighten your core to hold it back. It’s useless. Your orgasm is coming anytime now, and Hyewon won’t let it happen. “Mommy, let me cum, mommy, please!”

She slaps you across the face. Why did the sting turn you on? You’d argue her words sting more. “You made me look like a cheap slut out there!” Hyewon shouts. “I gave you a chance and you ruined it, you little shit. So now you have to earn your fucking worth!” 

Her riding becomes intense by the minute. She was angry earlier, and now she’s furious. You’re her canvas for a fuming painting. But in her eyes, you’re not a masterpiece. She’ll do away with you to the point of destruction. You’re very near to crumbling.

“I’ll do anything, please!”

You’re desperate. Your stomach’s starting to ache from the violence. You can’t quite feel your legs. All you feel is an impending heat that squeezes your insides. Your hips jerk needily and tears fall from your face. This is the first time you’ve felt this humiliated and aroused. Something about Hyewon makes the two emotions merge and leaves you wanting more.

Hyewon’s close to cumming, too. She’s shaking as her chaotic bounces are sloppier than before. “Say it, say you’re my little boy toy! Say you’re a slut for mommy!”

You’re a quivering body beneath the celebrity. You’re letting her use your cock and choke you and slap you, all without repercussions. There’s only one kind of man that would let someone do that to them. You can’t believe you’ve become one.

“Yes, yes, mommy owns my cock!” you scream, nodding over and over. “I’m her toy and she can do w-whatever she wants to me, I won’t mind!” 

Her juices roll down your cock and wet your pubic area. She’s spiraling out of control. The only thing she can control is you, making you say the most humiliating things. Her wild eyes lock onto yours, and through them you could finally see some backstory: Kang Hyewon was born into wealth and control, and she’ll die with them, too. She’ll always fight to have them when they’re taken away from her. She isn’t afraid to cross limits.

“Yes, yes, yes! More!”

“I only want mommy’s pussy even if I don’t deserve it! I only do what she says, I’ll give up everything to be mommy’s plaything, please!”

When she cums, she looks frenzied, shaking all over the place and spasming around you. Her cries of pleasure become erratic. They almost sound not human. A human would not dare do what she does to you. She fucks you like an animal, frightens you like a supernatural phenomenon, and moves like the waves of the sea.

Kang Hyewon is out of this world. You’re an unnamed rock floating in the galaxy she navigates.

You bust just the second she removes herself from you. Abashing strings of sticky whiteness land all over yourself. They’re paired with needy groans that you can’t stop even if you wanted to. 

Hyewon observes your ejaculation unamusedly. She takes a step backward when a jet of cum sprays in her direction. Look down at yourself—look down at your lap and the table blotted with your orgasm—and think of how dirty you are. You’re so dirty and pitiable that you came all over yourself, like you just masturbated in front of her. That’s why she doesn’t want to touch you.

“Y-you didn’t let me cum inside,” you say disappointedly. You did everything, said everything, and risked everything for nothing. An orgasm isn’t worth it when it isn’t done inside Hyewon.

“Like I said,” Hyewon replies, apathetic, “you don’t deserve it.”

Stare at her. It’s through staring at her with surprise that you realize you’re dirty on the inside, too. Hyewon can live her life secludedly and fade from the industry. She can leave this country, reinvent herself, marry somewhere, and you’d still be thinking about her. You’d always think of this night that left her appearance and yourself ruined.

That’s her charm. She’s permanently going to be in your mind—you’ll always picture her wet cunt, her alluring breasts, her beautiful face. You’ll strive for her again and again while she doesn't even care if you live or die.

Women like her… why do they have to be who you want?

“You have no future in this industry,” she continues. 

She pulls her jeans up her legs and slips the button through the hole. Oh, you really will remember this night. You see you and Hyewon in the little things. She searches through the closet for a spare shirt. Watch her slim fingers that previously wrapped like ribbons around your throat now wrap around a hanger. She slips her arms through the tweed coat and seals it around the front.

“But your drawings aren’t… horrible,” she says. That’s the best compliment you can get from her. You know not to expect more. She shrugs as she closes the buttons together. “Maybe you’ll end up as a painter.” 

A painter? You’re a fashion designer, not Van Gogh. Dresses and pants are your forte. You can’t switch to a whole new job when sewing is what you know.

Your heart sinks. You really broke the first step to a career you worked your whole life for. It’s just not your path to take anymore. 

Hyewon looks around for something to write with. She settles for the eye pencil lying on a table. She forces you to open your palm and writes something on it. She closes your fingers above it.

“There you go. Consider this a farewell gift.”

She came into your life fast and she exits it just as fast. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of yearning. After all she’s done, you don’t want her to go. Why do you despise her departure when you prayed for it earlier?

Who would take you now?

You sigh. Peek at your hand curiously. In tidy handwriting, Hyewon’s message says:

KIM MINJU - CURATOR

XXX - XXX - 2001

[meo-on-prairie]

No Body, No Crime

Satosugu x reader

Prompt: You know in your soul that he did it, but there are no ways for you to prove a feeling. But you can play this game he started, and you won’t give up until the day he dies.

Words count: 6.3k

Tags: Satosugu x reader established, Fluff, angst, murder, Slightly suggestive, crime. TW: death, murder, dismemberment, disturbing actions, infidelity, manipulation, and revenge mdni.

Rambling: I was on the verge of tears when I finished this fic, idek if I like it anymore lmao, so if you don't like it, idk what to tell you lmao. I honestly don’t know what to tag this fic as. Just like beware that it’s inspired by: “no body, no crime” by Taylor Swift (of course), The Glory K-drama, and the countless murder podcast I listen to while driving. I hope yall enjoy.

/////////

Odd. Shoko is late, 2 hours late to be exact. She’s not exactly the most punctual person you know but she has never been this late. Especially not on the monthly dinner with you, Suguru, and Satoru. After graduating college together, the 4 of you have made a point to have dinner together at least once a month.

This monthly dinner is something none of you would ever miss. All of you have been making it work for years, through the career changes, through your shitty ex-relationship, through the time when you were confused about how you feel toward Satoru and Suguru. Even after Shoko decided to get married to this Neonatologist named Andrew she met at the hospital she works at, the 4 of you still keep up the routine. 

The three of you took turns calling her the past 2 hours and nothing. Straight to voicemail. Not even a text saying she can’t make it today and to reschedule. Odd. you can’t get rid of this nauseating feeling in your stomach.

“Let’s go” you stand up abruptly and begin to walk out of the restaurant toward the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Satoru asked. Both him and Suguru hurried after you. Satoru unlocked the car, and Suguru opened the door for you to get in. Ever since you joined the relationship, they made a point to never let you drive or touch the car door, ‘you’re our treasure, you will be treated like one’. 

“I want to drop by Shoko’s place, maybe she’s got tired from her night shift and overslept or something, I don't know, I just want to make sure nothing is wrong.” You’re panicking, they can see that. During college, if Satoru and Suguru were attached by the hips, you and Shoko were never one without the other. You can’t simply just shake off this anxiety you feel when it comes to your best friend. 

They nodded and got into the front seats. They don’t question you. They know how much Shoko means to you, not to mention she’s their friend too. Satoru drives the three of you to Shoko’s place while Suguru tries to calm your anxiety. 

“It’s okay, Sweet. You’re probably right about her being deep asleep due to her night shift. She seems pretty stressed and tired lately from her text.” Suguru reasoned.

Satoru gives a slight nod and adds, “Her phone could be dead, and she missed the alarm that would wake her up for our dinner”.

“Yeah… I hope you’re right.” You feel slightly better from the reasonable and likely scenarios they proposed. Still, it couldn't get rid of this sinking feeling you feel in your stomach.. 

After a short drive, you three reach Shoko’s house. You notice that her husband's truck is in front of the driveway, the tires are brand new, it looks like he just got them replaced today. Odd. Very rarely do people replace all their tires at once. You chalk it up to just coincidence. You walk toward her door and ring the doorbell, Andrew answers the door. 

“Hey man, is Shoko home? She was supposed to meet us for dinner around 2 hours ago.” Satoru greeted

“No. She’s not home. I don't know where she is.” Andrew answered abruptly. 

“Well, did something happen? Did some emergency come up with her family? She’s your wife, out of everyone she would at least tell you where she is.” Suguru pressed him for more information. It doesn’t make sense for him to not know where his wife is at this hour.

“I told you! I don’t know where she is! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a night shift to get ready for.” With that, Andrew slammed the door to your faces. 

Odd. He sounded agitated, and anxious. Like he’s trying to hide something… deny something. Your whole body is shaken in fear with the thoughts of the worst. Nothing makes sense. Shoko would never just vanish without telling anyone. She literally messaged the group chat yesterday saying she’ll see you three at dinner and she has something to tell you all. Nothing makes sense. 

Satoru noticed how pale your face had gone and immediately pulled you in for a hug, “It’s going to be okay, Love. She’s going to be okay. We’ll wait till tomorrow and see if she’ll contact us. Then we’ll figure out what to do from there okay?” he said in a hush tone. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Sweet. We’ll figure it out together.” Suguru gives your temple a long kiss as he runs his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

The three of you drove home in silence. You didn’t dare to leave your phone for one second, you went to sleep with your phone unmuted. Suguru and Satoru make sure at least one of them is by your side at all times. They worry about Shoko too, but they know you need them to be there and keep you grounded. They make sure to hold you extra close that night, you fall asleep in their comforting arms, hoping for the best, but the sinking feeling makes you expect the worst. 

/////////

The worst did come. At 6AM, 2 days since you last heard from Shoko, you were woken up by the loud banging on your door. 

You groggily lift up the two arms that’s trapping you in bed, then reposition their arm so your boyfriends can cuddle each other instead, you gently close the bedroom door behind you. You walk toward the front door, silently cursing whoever knocked on your door at this crack of dawn hour. When you opened the door, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

“Good morning. We recently got a missing person report on Miss Shoko from her husband. Is it okay if we come in to ask you a few questions that could be helpful toward our investigation?” One of the two police officers standing outside your door politely requested. 

“Yes…” you answer barely above a whisper, open the door wider for the officers to come in, you call out for Satoru and Suguru for them to wake up and come down to the living room. You lead the officers toward the living room and invite them to sit while you get them water and wait for your boyfriends to come down. 

You don't remember much after that. It felt as if time had stopped and the world was crumbling apart. Satoru and Suguru answer the majority of the question, you seem to only be able to answer in ‘yes’ and ‘no’ when the officers specifically address you. You were on autopilot. Your best friend, missing without a trace. Not a single hint on whether she’s dead or alive. 

You closed the door after the officers. The moment you hear the ‘click’ of the lock, your legs give out and tears begin to fall from your eyes. You sob uncontrollably, gasping for air. Your shoulders shake violently. This can’t be real. No. you refuse to believe this is reality. Shoko, the person you just talked to on the phone 2 days ago, vanished completely leaving no trace behind. 

Satoru and Suguru immediately rush to your side, they wrap their arms around you and hold you tight. They place soft kisses all over you and rub your back in a soothing motion. 

“I promise you, Sweet. I’ll make sure to find her for us, okay?” Suguru whispered. Never in a million years did Suguru think he would ever have to find his own missing friend as a detective. 

You, Satoru, and Suguru sat there, right in front of the door for hours. Just sitting in each other's embrace and comfort as you three mourn your friend, who you do not know is dead or alive. 

/////////

After crying to the point your body can no longer produce anymore tears. You get started on breakfast. Well, not you, you’re too out of it for anything, Suguru is the one cooking, you tried to set up the table but Satoru just guide you to the table and told you to not worry about it. 

With nothing to do, you decide to scroll through old messages between you and Shoko. Most of them are about how useless her husband is.

“He can’t even wash the dishes that he used! He ate from them, and then just left them in the sink!”

“This fucker think the laundry magically fold itself! Oh god I want to kill him...” this one makes you giggle a little.

“He said he’s going to work but the nurse just called me cuz they couldn’t reach him and there’s a car accident with a baby in it, where the fuck is he?”

“I just found a big purchase for an expensive bracelet, a month ago in our joint account, he said he thought I bought it. lol maybe he’s cheating on me.” This one caught your attention. It was from 3 weeks ago, you thought Shoko was just joking, you didn’t think too much of it since Shoko said it so casually, unlike the other times she vented about her husband. 

No. No. No. No. It can’t be. But the brand new tires, 4 of them, his attitude and response, this message that Shoko sent to you. God, you feel like throwing up. 

“He did it…” you breathe out

“What was that, Love?” 

“He did it! Andrew killed her! He killed Shoko!” you scream out, throwing your phone across the table so they can see the text message.

“I know he did it! All 4 of his tires are brand new and his attitude when we ask where she was and- and this text from Shoko, he killed her!” Your speech becomes frantic as you explain your reasoning. You rest your head on your hands, trying to just process it all.

Satoru’s eyes widen as they read Shoko’s text. He did it. Satoru feels his stomach sinking as he connects the dots. Everything is as you say, it all points to Shoko’s husband as the culprit. Andrew killed Shoko.

“But we have no proof, until we can find evidence or Shoko’s body, he is innocent” Suguru pointed out. Coming around to the table with the french toasts he was making for breakfast. He placed 2 on your plate. You push your plate away, not feeling like eating with everything you have to take in. Suguru grabs your hand and places a kiss on your finger to make you look at him.

“Sweet, you need to eat, at least half, you’ll only feel worse if you don’t eat. We’ll think about this some more after breakfast okay?” Suguru tries to reason with you. He understands how distress you're feeling right now. He looks over at Satoru, his boyfriend's grip on your phone is making his hand turn white.

Suguru walks over to Satoru, he wraps his arm around Satoru, hugging him tightly from behind to snap him out of it, he then takes your phone away from Satoru’s hand. “You too, ‘Toru, let’s eat first, we’ll figure out what to do after, okay?”

If you and Satoru didn’t know Suguru like part of your soul, you would mistake his calmness for indifference. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, Suguru is like the calm before the storm, you won’t notice his anger until after it’s all said and done. 

You three eat in silence. Suguru is an amazing cook, the french toasts are far from being mediocre. Yet, none of you seem to find the appetite to eat with all the information you need to process. 

After breakfast, you tell the boys you’ll clean up and wash the dishes since they cook and set up. Though they agree to not argue with you about it, they end up helping you with washing the dishes anyway. 

“What do you want to do, Sweet?” Suguru decided to be the one to talk about the issues that have been weighing yours and their minds. 

“I’m not sure, Suguru. There is nothing I can do but hope that they'll be able to find some evidence, or at least her whereabouts.” you said softly, defeatedly. There is truly nothing you can do in this situation. 

“Alright then, I’ll ask my boss to put me on the case. Just like I promised you.” Suguru smiled at you. 

You feel a pair of arms snake around your torso. Satoru gave Suguru a peck on the lips then rested his head on your shoulder, “We’ll find her, Love. We’ll use whatever means we have and find her.”

You can’t help but smile at their words. Sometimes you ask yourself how you are so lucky to find 2 of your soulmates. You’re so incredibly lucky to be able to love and be loved by them. They make the fickleness of life much easier to navigate. Despite your storm of emotions due to Shoko’s disappearance, you find yourself still able to let go and feel grounded around them. They’re your rocks. You trust their words. You trust them.

/////////

Everything is easier said than done. It has been 6 months since Shoko’s disappearance. Suguru did become head detective of the case just like he promised, but every lead he got resulted in a deadend. At this point the case is considered cold, but Suguru refuses to let it go and continues to investigate by himself. Satoru used his company’s along with his own influence to get the case into headlines in the media, in hope that someone would be able to give Suguru more intel to work with. Satoru even hired someone to spy on Andrew and report back to him once a week. 

But with all the walls you've been facing, you’re starting to gaslight yourself into thinking that Andrew is actually innocent, and your intuition is just plain wrong. That is, until the spy on Andrew sent Satoru the weekly report while the three of you were cuddling on the couch watching Barbie. 

When Satoru’s phone rings, you don't bother pausing the movie, thinking it’s just gonna be mundane like the other reports the past 6 months. Satoru got up to grab his phone along with some water from the kitchen. His knuckles turn white when he sees what the spy sent him. 

“Suguru, Love, you guys need to see this.” Satoru calls out to you two with gritted teeth. 

You pause the movie and quickly go to the kitchen, Suguru following you.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru before you could. 

“The rat bastard actually brought home his mistress.” Satoru hands you the phone, he’s fuming now, his other hand balled up tightly. Suguru immediately notices and takes Satoru’s hand, holding onto it so Satoru won’t dig his nails into his palm and hurt himself.

You look at the pictures on Satoru’s phone. Andrew holding hands with the mistress. Them carrying boxes from his truck. Her wearing Shoko’s favorite designer dress, a silver bracelet on her left hand. They were going out for dinner. Bastards. 

You can feel your gut burn, your heart aching, and tears of anger threaten to spill from your eyes. Suguru’s face is grim, his hand squeezing Satoru just as hard as Satoru squeezing his. All the 3 of you can see is red. Boiling pit of lava in your stomachs. This nuclear waste of a human, not only killed your best friend, but brought his mistress into the house that your best friend bought, let his mistress wear your best friend’s favorite dress, and slept with his mistress in your best friend’s bed.

“I’m going to kill him.” Satoru said with conviction. 

“No.” Your tone is scarily calm, “simply killing him won’t be enough.” 

Suguru grabs your hand without letting go of Satoru’s hand, brings it to his lips and places a gentle kiss. “What are you thinking, Sweet? We’re ready to be your executioner.”

Satoru nodded in agreement. The red in their eyes can’t be missed. They’re just as furious as you are.

Looking into their resolute gazes, you pulled both Satoru and Suguru into an embrace. They return your feelings by wrapping their arms around you. You always know this, but now more than ever, you truly believe that even if the entire world were to condemn you, these two would burn the world down for you; and so would you for them.

You all know in your souls that he did it, but there are no ways for you to prove a feeling. But you can play this game he started, and you won’t give up until the day he dies. Together with your executioners, You will make the two rats pay for their action.

/////////

Good thing your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, is filthy rich. The private spy he hired gives you a lot of information about the mistress. Her name is Maruka, she’s 10 years younger than Andrew, clearly a sugar-baby. She used to work as a cosmetologist but quitted around 3 months ago. From the words of the people that used to be in her life, her biggest love is money. They can’t fault her for it though, she was one of those orphan kids that was passed around in the foster system, she grew up with her whole life stuffed inside a single garbage bag.

You pitied her life for a bit. Thinking maybe she’s just an innocent bystander that also got rope into Andrew’s scheme. Unfortunately, giving people the benefit of the doubt hasn't been working out for you lately. 

You first interact with her at the luxury spa she often frequent after moving in with Andrew. You have the spy let you know when she’s going to the spa so you can join and strike up a friendship with her. When you spot her entering the spa’s sauna, you quickly prepare yourself while reciting the script you have in your head. 

You enter the sauna, sit directly in front of Maruka. You wait for a few minutes before striking up a conversation. 

“Hi, I’m Ina, do you go to his spa often? I haven’t seen you around before.” You lied, a fake name in case she recognizes your real one. 

“I’m Maruka, and yeah, I’m pretty new to this spa. It's been getting pretty serious between me and my boyfriend recently, I even moved in with him so I want to take care of myself for him.” she giggles. 

“Aww, that’s cute. How did you meet?” Your inquiries. 

“Oh we met at a bar, he bought me a drink and we started talking and we just hit it off, he was so charming.”

“You must be very happy then.” you give her a slight smile, “the way you talk about him, it seem like your relationship is full of sunshine and flower”

“You would think so, but unfortunately he had a wife, so we have to date in secret. But he promised me that he would divorce her for me” she laughs. That pisses you off  but you hold down your anger. 

“You said you moved in recently, did he finally divorce his wife recently?”

“Oh. My. God. That’s the best part. She disappeared! 6 months ago! She might be dead for all we know so he gets to keep the fancy house. It’s as if we’re destined to be and god was helping us out!” you squeal in excitement. 

If Suguru and Satoru were here, they would nominate you for the Oscar for how well you’re able to hold back your anger and continue to be friendly with this piece of work. This shameless woman considers someone’s misfortune as her blessing. Disgusting. 

“Wow, that’s impressively lucky, maybe you are being watched over by god.” you said in feint amazement. “We should grab lunch together, you’re fun to talk to, it'll be on me. And I’ll bring you to a nice place where we can test your blessing”

She giggled in happiness, “Sure!”.

You know she would agree as soon as you invite her, this is a luxury spa after all, only those with money and membership can enter. She won’t let go of an opportunity to form connections with someone who is wealthy enough to be in this spa.

/////////

Just as you proposed, you bring her to the most expensive restaurant in town, you have to show your wealth (by using Satoru’s card) so she would want to stick to you even closer. Afterward you bring her to Toji’s horse racing ring.

Toji used to be Shoko’s and Suguru’s smoke and drink buddy in college. He wasn’t necessarily close to your group, but you consider each other friends. So when you come asking him for a favor to avenge Shoko, along with the money to reimburse him. He told you to keep the money and to use his horse racing ring however you please. 

“Where are we?” Maruka asked in confusion. 

“A horse racing ring, owned by my friend, you should place some bet to test out your blessing.” you giggle.

“If you lose, the ring will only take half of what you bet. But if you win, you’ll win twice the amount you bet, and the ring will only take 10% of what you win. It’s a win-win scenario for everyone. People who play will gain more than they lose, and the ring gains a small revenue to keep it going.” You entice her further.

“Oh, I have never placed a bet before…” She hesitated a little, but clearly still interested.

“Here,” you hand her a slip of paper “Just write down your name, the amount you're betting, and the number on the horse you think will win, then put it in that box at the front.”

She takes the slip, she looks at it, contemplating for a moment. She then put down her name, $50, and horse number 3. She places it into the box at the front and you nod at the worker standing next to it, giving him the signal. 

“Now what?” she ask nervously

“Now we watch!”

You two sit down in one of the seats in the VIP area. You glance at her, she’s anxious, first time gamblers always feel anxious at their first bet, but this adrenaline is what keeps them hooked. You watch as the horses race each other. Number 3 won. You watch as Maruka jumps up in joy and you smile at her. 

“Would you look at that! You truly are blessed!” You feint excitement, hyping her up even more. This is the adrenaline you want her to feel, the high you want her to feel.

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh!! Ina!! I won!!” she said excitedly 

“Yes you did! You're now $90 richer.” you smile, handing her another slip of paper “Want to go again?”

She took the paper from your hand immediately without hesitation this time. She excitedly wrote down her next bet again, $200 this time. You can’t help the grin being formed on your face. You got her hook, line, and sinker.

/////////

Good thing that your other boyfriend, Getou Suguru, is a famous detective. He knows the in and out of the law well, knows what evidence is crucial and what is useless. He’s the person that composes files on Maruka and Andrew that would help with your plan. In fact, Suguru is in his office filing out the new updates and pictures Satoru’s spy sent him. 

You walk into his office to see him sitting at his desk with papers and pictures all over the table. You slide your hands on his shoulders and give him a small massage, you kiss his temple then rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I love you.” you whisper softly

“I love you too” Suguru replies, turning his head slightly to give you a quick kiss on your lips. 

You look at the pictures scattered on the table. The spy has been documenting Mamuka and Andrew’s day. Andrew’s day tends to be pretty boring now that he got what he wanted, he just went to work, went home, took Maruka out for dinner, nothing special. Maruka on the other hand, with no work to occupy and her new addiction to gambling on horse races, has been blowing through her money like water. 

You made sure that the workers at Toji’s ring would let her win frequently at first, building her confidence in her luck. Then, you make sure she’ll start to lose. Of course, she will win when the worker notices she’s getting frustrated and about to give up. To give her that high. To keep her hook. 

From what Shoko’s work friend, a nurse, at Andrew’s hospital has been telling you, he has been more and more agitated lately. Looks like Maruka’s spending habits are slowly affecting their relationship. You made sure to decline every single one of her invites to dinner with her and Andrew. You can’t risk them finding out you and Shoko’s best friend, and you as Ina are the same person.

“How is everything going on your side?” Suguru ask softly

“Oh, you know, just occasional lunch and dinner with the bitch, keep the ‘friendship’ going. The way she talks pisses me off though, she talks like a child. Sitting with her makes me miss Shoko even more. That should be Shoko’s place at the table with me, not her.” you complain with a sign, making Suguru chuckle. 

“I miss her too, Sweet” He reached his hand up to pat your head, “What about Satoru? How’s his task going?”

“Magnificent actually, this whole life insurance company plan actually brings in money for the company, so it’s like killing two birds with one stone.” Satoru chimes in from behind you two, he leans down to give both you and Suguru a soft kiss. 

“Seems like everything is going smoothly as planned then.” Suguru stands up from his chair to go to his vinyl shelf, he picks one and puts it on his new record player that you got him last Christmas. Lovers by Taylor swift come on and he reaches his hand out to both you and Satoru. 

“How about a small celebratory dance? We can go for a celebratory dinner tonight” Suguru suggested. 

You giggle and walk over to take his hand and so did Satoru. You spend the next few minutes twirling between them and watching them dance with each other. You’re genuinely happy, the happiest you have felt since Shoko’s disappearance. Revenge tastes oh so sweet, but it tastes addictingly sweet with your lovers around.

/////////

“Ugh, my boyfriend refused to give me an allowance today. Something about that he needed to save up for my ring. He’s bullshitting, I know it.” Maruka complained to you during your lunch with her. “I need money so I can win, I need to win so I can pay back my loan, this is so annoying!”

“That does sound annoying. I hate seeing you so upset like this. Is there any way I can help?” you asked in a concerned tone.

“I don’t know, Ina. I feel like the only way to solve any of my problems lately is money.” Maruka sighs. You smirk, pulling out a wad of cash from your purse.

“Here, $2000, for you.”  You hand the stack of money to her. Smiling slightly.

“Wha- why? Thank you but…” Maruka start

“Oh don’t mention it, I recently invested in this new Insurance company owned by Gojo Corp. Their life insurance policy is pretty interesting. You can file for policies under someone else's name as long as you have their paperwork such as birth certificate, citizenship, social security number, things like that” You lied with the nonchalant attitude

“I recently filed one under my boyfriend’s name after finding out he was cheating on me and planning on buying a one way ticket to disappear to Russa.” You shrug. “Good thing the insurance company reimburse you double the amount you invest for disappearance cases, something about the owner having a friend that disappeared without a trace.” 

You know it sounds too much like a lie. You know this lie sounds too good to be true. But you don’t need Maruka to believe you right now. You just need her to take the bait. After all, she ran out of money, in debt, with a gambling addiction. It shouldn’t take long for her to crawl to the insurance company from the prospect of easy money. 

“Huh, interesting. Anyway, thank you.” She take the wad of cash

“No problem, just a small gift.” you reply. You can already see the cogwheel in her head spinning.

You parted ways with Maruka after eating and returned home. You send a text to your boyfriends before submerging yourself in your hot tub, “bait placed”. You enjoy the warmth of the hot tub and the water massage from it. You reminisce about your times with Shoko. 

She would often tease you for how dense you were. “Everyone and their mother could tell that Satoru and Suguru have a thing for you, everyone but you apparently”.

Everytime you’re sad about another failed relationship, she would drag you out to go shopping or to the bar with her. Then you two would go to 3 different fast-food places, order an ungodly amount of food, and eat away your pain. 

When you told her, you think you might like Satoru and Suguru more than friends, she said “fucking finally. go tell them that, I can’t handle those two being sad little puppies every time you get into a relationship with someone else anymore.”

You were maid-of-honor at her wedding. You can still remember how she looked in her wedding dress so clearly. You two went to pick it out together. You held her hand before she walk down the aisle, “anytime during the wedding, if you don’t wanna the do this anymore, I have the car readied”

She just laughed and said, “it’s just a marriage, I can handle myself, I don’t need you to worry about me.”

You should’ve grabbed her hand and dragged her to the car. That’s your biggest regret. 

Your phone rings and snaps you out of your memory lane. A message from Satoru that said “she took the bait”. You smile at the text and step out of the hot tub. You’re thinking about making Satoru’s favorite dessert and Suguru's favorite food for dinner. Your boys have been working so hard for you. You should reward your favorite executioners tonight. 

/////////

Good thing Satoru’s dad made him get a boating license during the summer of his 15. It’s a reason you three get to enjoy the weekend on a private yacht, in the middle of the ocean. You're currently enjoying a glass of champagne with some chocolate covered strawberry, sun-bathing in the lounge chair as your boys race each other in the water. 

It's been a week since Maruka last contacted you to hangout. And according to Shoko’s nurse friend, it's been 3 days since Andrew came in for work. How interesting. Maybe you should give her a call. 

You pick up our phone and click on Maruka’s contact, it rings 3 times before she pick up. 

“Ina! Hi! What are you calling for?” She sounds panicky. She sounds like a kid doing something they shouldn’t be doing. 

“Hey, I just wanna call to check up on you, haven't heard from you in a minute. What cha up to?” 

“Oh nothing, just cooking… for my boyfriend! Yeah.”

“Oooh, what are you making?” you ask casually

“Just a beef stew, nothing special, just plain ol’ beef stew” Maruka answered rapidly, her attitude reminding you of Andrew’s attitude on the day of Shoko’s disappearance. 

“Well, I’m just checking in, I would invite you out shopping with me but I’m on vacation right now. I’ll let you know when I’m back.” 

With that, you and Maruka say bye to each other. You get up from your relaxed position and walk over to the railing on the yacht to call out to your boyfriends, who are trying to drown each other in their water splashing war.

“My loves,” You shout out to them, mischief in your voice. They stop what they were doing to look at you, enjoying the view quite a bit with the minimal amount of fabric you have on you, “it’s time for the anonymous tip and the wellness check don’t you think?”

A smirk grew on both of their faces as they swim back to the yacht to make some important phone calls. You lean on the railing to enjoy the sight of you boys. Their muscles flex in the most delicious way as they make their way through the water. 

Your eyes didn’t leave their body as they climbed back up to the yacht. You're still staring as they both grab their phone to make some phone calls. You can’t help it, the way their skin glistens in the sun due to that water. The fact that they’re half naked right now with the short they’re wearing clinging onto their skin, giving you the sight of their defined thighs. Ah… it’s not as if you have never seen them in nothing but their birthday suit before, but still… your boys are just too attractive for their own good. 

“If you stare any harder, you’ll burn a hole through us.” Satoru tease, you were too busy staring to notice he’s already finished with his phone call.

“I blame you two.” I joke, leaning into his body as he wraps his hand around you. Your smile gets wider when you feel another body pushing you closer to Satoru’s from behind. 

“Oh? Please, do tell us how it’s our fault…” Suguru whispers into your ears, he nibbles on your ears a little before looking up to kiss Satoru.

Oh… you already know you’re gonna be in heaven for the next few hours. It’s a good day today. 

/////////

Sunlight peeked through the blind of your shared room, waking you up. You look over to see Satoru and Suguru cuddling, you can’t pinpoint where one begins and where the other ends. You grab your phone to check the time, it’s 10am too early for lunch but too late for breakfast. You three just got back from your vacation in the middle of the ocean so you’re taking it slow before going back to work. 

You get out of bed to go brush your teeth and get started on making brunch for yourself and your boys. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good day today. Eggs and bacon for brunch sound oddly enticing right now. 

You take out the bacon from the fridge and place them slice by slice on a metal tray. You put them in the oven and get started on frying the eggs. Satoru likes his egg scramble, while Suguru likes sunny side up.

“Good morning” two voices greet you, not quite in sync because they’re not fully awake yet. 

“Good morning, My Loves” you greet them back, “you could’ve slept in some more.”

“Nah, you weren’t in bed with us.” Suguru replies, he walks into the kitchen to help you cook. Satoru decides to go to the Living room to turn on the TV to a news channel before going to set up the table. 

The TV in the living room drones on about the weather, politics, and current events as you guys eat. You three discuss how you are gonna spend the rest of your day as you finish up your brunch.

“Breaking news: Woman murders her boyfriend with the intention of cashing in on his life insurance policy to support her addiction.” The new anchor announces as the three of you wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen table.

“This morning, the police conducted a wellness check on Mr. Andrew, the husband of Ms. Shoko, who vanished without a trace a year ago. This check was prompted by an anonymous tip reporting his absence from work for three consecutive days, during which no one at his workplace could reach him. However, upon their arrival, law enforcement discovered only Ms. Maruka, Andrew's current girlfriend, present at the residence. Subsequent investigation of the home led to the unsettling discovery of fragments representing approximately 20% of Mr. Andrew's body, alongside three pots of meat stew. Analysis of the DNA extracted from the bones within the stew suggested the disturbing possibility that Mr. Andrew may have been used as an ingredient in this unsettling concoction.” The news anchor further elaborated on the case.

“Gross.” The three of you cringe at gruesome action.

“What was her plan with those stews? She isn’t thinking of eating it right?” Satoru commented, grimacing at the thought.

“Who knows, maybe she plans on feeding it to the stray dogs.” Suguru entertains Satoru’s thoughts. 

“Ew. Even dogs wouldn’t want to eat that human waste.” you laugh, joining their antic.

“Based on an alternative anonymous tip, it appears that Ms. Maruka might be struggling with a gambling addiction and substantial debt. Additionally, she recently acquired a substantial life insurance policy in Mr. Andrew's name just one week ago. At present, all the available evidence strongly indicates that Ms. Maruka is the primary and sole individual under suspicion in connection with Mr. Andrew's demise.” The law enforcement officer being interviewed said with conviction.

You can help the wide grind forming on your lips as you wipe the dishes dry, “I can’t wait to tell Shoko about this.”

“I can already hear how much she's gonna enjoy this.” Sugar commented, chuckling at the thought, handing you another plate he just cleaned.

“We’ll tell her about this together. All three of us” Satoru said as he leaned down to place a kiss on your shoulder. 

Yeah, the four of you will have the dinner you missed again. You, Satoru, and Suguru will tell Shoko all the mischief she missed. It won’t be now, or anytime soon. But you’ll tell her all about it, all three of you.

[no1heyyyyyyyy]

Sevika's tastes

Sevika is an old lady and she just wants to be left alone. She likes to look good but when it comes to clothes, Miss thing just doesn’t care that much. She always has practicality in mind. So, no dresses, nothing flowy, has to have natural fabrics so that her skin can breathe, and she requires that things are comfortable. Her shoes are always made for hardware with a strong sole and often reinforced. In the modern world, I see her working in metal working (specifically welding), so she has to have clothes that are multipurpose. Though, if she was forced to wear anything really nice, it would be a simple well-cut blazer and a button down with jeans or slacks that conform to her legs nicely. She prefers earthy colors, nothing too flashy. I think she’d really appreciate a nice dark green, or perhaps brown. I also feel that she would enjoy a nice flannel regularly.

With food, I’m afraid her palette is as unrefined as her clothing choices. She genuinely does not care what she eats, though she really likes chicken- loves hot wings, spicy food is her love. But, her comfort food will always be the food native to what part of India her family is from. I don’t think she’s the best cook, but she has a few family recipes that she knows so well (aloo gobi, chai, samosa, tikka masala, saag paneer). And, I think that on nights where she’s feeling really sad or lonely she always craves those foods. She’d love to cook with or for her partner, it’d be the best way to get to know her honestly. Because it allows for her to show vulnerability through actions and without words. She loves to take care of people and I think in modern times she’d mother her friends just a bit, always making sure they’re eating well, drinking their water, and sleeping right (if not she’ll give them some chai). She doesn’t eat beef or dark meats in general, and she isn’t the biggest fan of seafood or turkey. So, she sticks with her chicken and her paneer. She’ll eat tofu but it needs to be in curry or something similar.

This woman would love 80s hair metal, music is something that I genuinely believe she’d love so much. She’d play drums as a teenager, dead set on becoming the drummer of the next Metallica. She’d also love the old school heavy metal bands, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Pantera. She’d love them all. I think she’d like some old school 90s rap too, but none of the new-age mumble rap that’s going on. She wouldn’t really like Taylor Swift’s music, just because it didn’t vibe with her, but she respected Taylor’s ability to get a bag. She has had a huge crush on Adele ever since she heard the album 25 when it came out. She liked some of her music, but thought Adele was drop dead gorgeous and all mature and soulful and shit, hit her in the feels and made her whipped for this woman she didn’t even know.

For movies she loves shitty 80s slasher horror, nothing that makes her think. She’d sit back in her old recliner in her pajamas and house slippers whilst watching Slumber Party Massacre for the third time, and then put on Golden Girls because she feels that Dorothy Zbornak is her spirit animal. She likes a good sitcom too and a ridiculous drama (she loves Desperate Housewives), she likes the camp, the over the top acting and dumb plots, it makes her laugh and feel care free in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. She just wants to curl up with her pets (she would have many) and watch teen-based tv shows that revolve around crime or secrets (Pretty Little Liars, Riverdale, Vampire Diaries, even Buffy etc.). She likes how bad they are, but she gets so invested it’s ridiculous.

For personal scents she’d like more woody, alluring scents that are also kind of sweet. Think Amber by Rag n’ Bone (it smells so good), she doesn’t spray much, just a spritz, it wafts around her just slightly, just enough for women to fall at her feet. Her individual smell wouldn't be overpowering but it would definitely be clear. It’s grounding and soothing. Her sweat stinks though, every time she comes back from the gym, she goes straight to the showers because her own dogs don’t want to come near her b.o.

In general, Sevika is an old woman who couldn’t give less of a shit. She wants to be left alone with her life and her people and chill. Which is why, I feel like she isn’t that opinionated on much unless it’s boundaries or causes she cares about. She just doesn’t have the energy to be bothered with trivial things like which movie to choose for the night, or which restaurant to go to. She is tired and all she wants to do is eat good food with her partner and her pets in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t like neighbors and she doesn’t like people in her business. She doesn’t need a perfect life, just one that’s hers.

for whatever reason the letters are being weird, it is killing me. Please ignore it.

[beastabyss666]

The Season 2 Episode 8 of Helluva Boss recently was published quite spontaneously, so I'm writing the review while being very sleepy. First of all... It was weird to start the episode with some cheap musical. Blitzo's solo was especially... fair to middling. I'm sorry, but I think Brandon Rogers can't sing, his voice isn't actually made for singing(that's just my opinion tho). And also hey, they remembered the cherubs! Wow. Though they made them some utter idiots, much like the other characters, I mean.. So the plot is about Blitzo going shopping for a sex toy which(in his opinion) will really rejoice Stolas. Meanwhile, the cherubs are seen living on Earth and robbing humans to "redeem themselves and return to heaven"(I won't ask how it's supposed to work). They get caught by the D.H.O.R.K.S. folk(wow, you also remembered them too, nice work Vivzie), where the agents tell the cherubs that they built a portal to Hell and made high-tech robotic suits imitating the main IMP gang. The cherubs wear them and enter the portal, ending up in the Lust Ring, where Blitzo goes shopping. The main gang attacks them(though it wasn't shown that they even were there), and OF COURSE defeats the cherubs, throwing them through the portal. The episode ends with Blitzo finally visiting Stolas and talking to him. But I'll mention it later. So... I found this episode quite weird, nothing much to say about the visuals, though some frames look like they're from another show. How some characters(especially humans) are drawn looks like they're also from another show. But I guess they don't really organise anything normally, so it just is. I also find the tone of the episode too chaotic, but the whole show switches rapidly from "Edgy black comedy" to "Unserious absurd trash comedy" to "Drama/whining/'we care about characters and their development'" stuff. Another weird thing I found about visuals is that the creators put many overly cartoonish expressions to characters, to the point that it look just ridiculous, not even saying it's out of the general style.

Some of these expressions look kinda crooked, and the other are cartoonly, but not in a way that fits the whole show. It's not a slapstick comedy, and I don't understand why the writers pretend it is. Most of the time(and it's seen in this episode) it's just lazy and poor attempts at satire on our stupid and hypocritical society, but it just doesn't work mainly because the protagonists don't seem to have more brain cells than usual humans in this universe. Earth here, although, really seem to be a thing to relieve Vivzie's malice at... everything, I guess. There is no exact satire/mocking of someone or something, so I guess Vivzie just hates every living thing in general(especially kids, for some reason). That's why the humour in this episode also seems odd in a bad way. I don't like that HB sometimes pretends to be South Park, or Family Guy, or... a typical CN show, perhaps? It just doesn't look right, it's like the writers try to copy other better works instead of making their own vibes/special tone.

Also they could use some more imagination

And about the ending... Stolas doesn't seem satisfied by Blitzo's behaviour(who acts overly sexual towards him which seems OOC), and starts... basically complaining about him being too sexual and not sensual. Guys... do you remember how it all started? Does Vivzie remember it? Literally in the 1 episode of 1 season it's shown that Stolas only uses Blitzo for his sexual pleasure, not caring about his comfort etc. He even calls him while he's on a dangerous mission. And there are lots of other moments where Stolas practically h*rasses Blitzo and makes him uncomfortable with his comments. And even since pilot doesn't seem to be canon(so Stolas didn't threaten Blitzo with r*pe), there are enough red flags about this mf. Yet in this episode he literally complains about receiving not so much love and care? That's... idk, that's shitty to say the least, and I don't know how the writers even managed. A literal abuser complaining about their partner being "not affectionate enough", that's fuckin' hilarious(sarcasm), and I say it as someone who had few abusers in my life. I still remember the previous episodes so I kinda don't buy it, but many people do, and that's sad. After that Blitzo [rightfully] angers at Stolas for complaining about lack of love while disrespecting him for being a lower class and using him as some object. Stolas only answers with "I think so very highly of you, I didn't realise you think so low of me", and kicks Blitzo out of his palace.

So... that's the episode. I have nothing much to say about it more, but I'm genuinely wondering does Vivzie even understand what she's doing and where she'll push the whole Stolas x Blitzo pairing(not that I fucking care, lol). These two are obviously in an abusive relationship, and the more they try to understand what even happened between them, the more confused they become. I personally think there's nothing to talk about with a guy like Stolas(though Blitzo too is a huge red flag), but idk, maybe Vivzie thinks that r*pists and abusers are changeable and are good deep down. Anyways, it was surely an odd episode, and I didn't really like it.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i was thinking about how ariel from the little mermaid is criticized so harshly for "giving up her voice and family for some guy" when there was definitely a lot more to it than that.

ariel had dreams outside of eric. she wanted to see the world, she wanted to get acquainted with humans and human traditions and she wasn't satisfied with her life underwater. that was the whole point of "part of your world", she barely mentions eric in it. he was just a bonus in her new life, not her entire purpose.

why am i talking about a random disney movie? it's because i was thinking of lumity, and how amity also rebelled against her family for a new life. except.. amity really only mentions luz (and "the others" because let's be real, she did not give a shit about willow and gus at that point). amity's sole reason to go against her family's values was luz.

this, if anything, could be considered "giving up everything for a love interest" but people don't see it that way because amity's parents were shitty to begin with. but if you look at the little mermaid from a different perspective, you could argue that king triton wasn't a very good parent either.

he literally throws a temper tantrum just because his teenage daughter has a crush on a guy. ariel is legit terrified in that scene, and regardless of whether triton had good intentions or not, he made his daughter feel unsafe and turn to an impulsive decision in a moment of emotional distress.

all of this to say, you could argue that ariel had no reason to stay with her family either, given that her father lacks emotional sensitivity and does not sit down and try to communicate with his child, instead of destroying her collection and scaring her away.

coming back to amity, i can understand that luz inspired her to actually do something about her abusive parents, and that's sweet. but we never get to see what else amity wanted. since they never established a friendship arc between amity and gus or willow (she apologized to willow, sure, but the rekindling of their relationship happens much later on), all we know is that amity is tired of being abused and she wants to be with luz.

from an abuse victim's perspective, amity standing up against her parents was powerful. but unlike ariel, amity doesn't seem to want anything besides luz. and she never explores what she wants to do, now that she has successfully cut herself away from her mother's influence. her whole life revolves around luz after that.

there was that abomination brawl episode but even that ended up being about luz. the brawl was just a quick montage, it only existed for the emotional drama that came later on. in fact, even when the plot was focused on amity, it was more about her relationship with her father rather than her autonomy and personal interests.

there's a reason why a lot of people liked the mean girl version of amity. she had personality, she had interests and goals, she had CHARACTER. it was all fake and a result of trauma, but it was there and it helped flesh out her character. but after she is redeemed? there's nothing left of the old amity, not even the more positive/neutral traits, and her only personality is "luz's awesome girlfriend".

amity's arc should have been about exploring what she wanted outside of her parents' wishes. abuse often turns you into a shell of a person and recovering from years of trauma isn't as simple as getting a romantic partner. it takes therapy (and that is canonically an option in the boiling isles, let me remind you), it takes self-reflection, it takes giving yourself the permission to choose your own destiny and explore yourself outside of your abusers' expectations.

and amity gets none of this. her trauma and arc was resolved too quickly, even for a show that was cut short. they just gave her a makeover, got her into a relationship with luz and called it a day. the only reason people aren't giving her the ariel treatment is (probably) because lumity is a queer ship.

[delicrieux]

—𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭, ch.3: sweet dreams, chicago

pairing—carmy berzatto x f!reader   genre—drama, romance, age gap, boss/employee relationship warnings for this chapter—anxiety, (+18) masturbation, mb one (1) allusion to a blowjob, swearing, excessive use of cigarettes  word count—3.6k

detailed instructions on how to fuck up your life in 30 seconds

author’s note: tremendously down bad, lonely, and socially inept? not talking abt u LOSER im talking abt carmen. my lil meow meow 

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | eyvcte masterlist | < back. next >

important! some of the dialogue scenes are written as a script & dialogues that overlap are marked in [] <3  

tell them

not white, gray – the exact color of cigarette ash, the red ember a reflected streak of sunlight; these walls box him in, and it’s always a surprise that space can feel so vast and so confining all at once. the plastic chair he sits on is unforgiving on his back. his foot sounds a pattern on the tiled floor to impair the silence.

he’s aware of it, of everything: his pursed lips, trembling lashes, quick blinks, slight sniffle, flitting irises, the light coat of sweat forming by his hairline. the taunt flex of his muscles; twitch of fingers that have nothing to grasp onto but each other. the tapping. pulsing in his jaw and temple. the tapping.

tell them

he tries to stare ahead, keep straight – it’s not expected of him, but he wishes he could do it. wishes he could face the silhouette sat across, too close and too far.

“well?” she prompts – a prim woman with a kind face sunken from all the miseries she had collected over the years, “how are you, carmen?”

a sharp exhale through the nose, like a humorless snort; corner of his lips pinching into a grimace that could resemble a smile, if one was generous enough, “how am i?” he repeats, “how am i?”

tell them

tell them

tell them your

“chef?”

storage closet. he keeps his hand firmly on the handle and breathes, jaw tense, head bent, illuminated in the shitty buzzing lights. the containers are organized – did it himself. methodically set cans with no spaces between them, all in neat rows. one’s a bit too close to the edge, sticking out. someone had moved it. he rubs his chin before pushing it back.

his hand falls from the handle and settles on his hip as he sighs, looks up, feels a rush of air tinted with spices and the overwhelming noise of the kitchen pierce the coveted silence of his hiding place when the door cracks open. she pokes her head in and he doesn’t look, can’t look, can’t sleep, can’t–

“you good?”

kindness is always startling, even when it’s the standard. her words hold no weight of deep inquiry, only a shallow question mark. it’s enough. he lives on scraps. “yeah, uh, thanks,” his tips his chin in her direction and his eyes flit over the crown of her head. can’t look for long;  he’ll search for thank you and love you despite knowing they’re covered.

“i was just, uh, was just, needed to check,” he vaguely motions behind himself, and the knot in his throat tightens slightly, “something, s-so…” maybe she decides to take him out of his misery. maybe he’s the only one that notices he’s drowning.

“family’s up.” she informs him, offers a small smile that he thinks is pity. can’t be sure.

“yeah, yeah, o-okay, i’ll, uh, i’ll, i’ll join you in a,” the hasty spill of his words slows, quiets. he inhales, brows crinkled and eyes focused on the new streaks on the floor he’ll have to clean, “i’ll join you in a minute.”

“i’ll save you a seat.” not a proposition mentioned aimlessly and left to rot in his subconscious, but a statement. and she’ll always save a seat for him, because he’ll always be late, and in the rare occasions that he won’t, he’ll be too early. she’ll save him a seat by the table and pat the couch next to herself when the staff’ll huddle to watch a Bulls game; she’ll save a slot for him on her free day to come into his office and help sort through papers; she’ll save her hand from others so that he could hold it and she’ll save a pair lace panties the color of her eyes that’ll tear through the flower pattern because he’ll be too rough and because he’ll like the way they look on her.

she’ll save a cup that’ll shatter during one of their arguments, glue it back together. the cracks will show, and it’ll be blotched, but he’ll still use it, even if the edge’ll be chipped and he’ll cut his lip and she’ll be long gone by then.

he’s mostly himself when he joins everyone, if he even knows what that entails. tina’s explaining form to marcus, and sydney’s on her phone, and richie and neil are discussing something with too many theatrics, and the rest of the staff shares idle conversation punctuated by comfortable silence. there’s an empty spot for him, food set in a plastic container and cutlery placed trimly – must’ve been her. too even, she’s borderline about these things. he appreciates them, because he’s like that, too.

a smile eases the tension from his shoulders, if a bit. he pulls the chair back, takes a seat, and her head ticks to the side to acknowledge him. no big speech, no welcome back or you good again, just a slight curiosity that makes her teeth pull on her lip. he dares a glance that doesn’t linger.

"verdict?” he asks the table, feeling the familiar flutter of anxiety squeeze his throat.

sydney: ‘s good. real good richie: too fucking fancy [god] this the type of shit they serve up in yee-whole-fucking-new-of-the-fucking-york? her: wouldn’t expect you to recognize shit from food [fuck you] since your mouth is always full of it richie: oh ha ha [cousin] look at us folks [cousin] we got a fucking comedian with us tina: shut it [so/rry] both of you. not by the table richie: not by the fucking table, kid [fuck you] marcus: i like it

it’s kinda funny, it’s kinda familiar, it’s kinda comforting. he glances at her again, sees her holding up her knife like a sword aimed at richie on the other side of the table. they mimic one another – in movement, in tone, in smiles that are careful not to display too much. friends. carmen watched this happen in his peripherals, sometimes through the haze of cigarette smoke. observed the pointed jabs and nudges that were harder each time as if they were competing who could knock the other off of their feet first. stupid, amusing, the nascence of a friendship.

whatever. it’s not that, it’s just, just that carmen’s the way he is and someone could roll their eyes at him and kill and sydney, well, he got along with sydney instantly – she came at a confusing fucking time, a breath of fresh air, and really, for a while, he only had her to help him navigate the clusterfuck of a dynamic of his brother’s staff. she was new, he was new, and it was natural they stuck together to survive the nuclear winter of a chicagoan kitchen. till he was approved as one of them, and she was, too, but, and it’s nothing, it’s dumb, fucking idiotic, it’s like he’s six again all of a sudden and no one wants to play ball with him in the fucking playground.

he’s not even left out, and he still feels like he’s somehow forbidden to join, even if he doesn’t want to, even if he doesn’t know what to say. as if he’d break some sacred law and inspire a drastic butterfly affect that would ripple into something abhorrent. the other shoe. there’s no first one and he’s already waiting for the drop.

“cousin,” richie calls, “cousin, she’s trying to fucking murk me. pretty sure that violates some sorta fine print.”

“better sleep with one eye open in that case.” carmy mumbles, a faint smile pulling on the corner of his lips as he watches the exchange briefly before he returns to the food. melts in his mouth. holds a sweet, syrupy tang, and, fuck, this is noma, this has fucking noma written all over it, even the cinnamon zest blended with orange peel.

no noma on her resume; dad must’ve taught her, then. how to blend and cook all of this shit to make the chicken taste like butter. probably needed to scour the whole kitchen for leftover ingredients, open a few rusted drawers for pipettes to measure lemon drops. stay up again prepping. filming. not sleeping. don’t look.

needlessly complicated and missing some parsley. coincidentally, they ran out of it this morning.

he looks at her because she’s not looking at him and for a moment he takes in her profile – the slope of her nose and the dip leading to her cupid’s bow. “‘s good.” he says after a short pause, and as soon as she turns in his direction he’s back to his food. the taste, this time, is compounded by added discomfort, “where’d you learn this from, anyway? there are recipe?”

“my dad. sorta,” she explains, “he’s also a chef. and he used to make it for me when i came to visit, soooooo, since it was my first time cooking family ‘n all…i thought, why not? y’know? just to upset richie.”

“heard that, kid.”

he snorts, leaning back into his chair, head dipped and container held in hand. glances at her from under his lashes, and maybe direct eye contact is not as scary when he wants her to be looking back. that small smile of his is pulls on his lips again, “‘s good.” he repeats.

“you like it?” her voice can be soft, and so can her features.

“i like it,” he admits, “thank you, chef.”

she smiles and it’s like a fucking firework.

he tries not to look too hard, scared what he might find there. metronome. dull, almost, like the beating of his heart in his chest, yet it pulses through him, from the back of his head all the way to his feet. the tapping.

tell them

he rubs his faces with his hands, leans forward, as if the words are physically trying to get out. doesn’t want to say it; doesn’t want to admit that he can’t dress for the weather and that he’s wearing a gray woolen sweater which blends into these walls, that he blends in, that he’s invisible.

“i’ve, uh,” pinches the bridge of his nose, wanes the upcoming headache – too many cigarettes and not enough sleep, “i’ve been going through somethin’.”

like her pictures on a late monday night fresh out of the shower. the phone light catches damp hair falling in ringlets. the towel is still slung around his shoulders – white, clean, he’s done his laundry, it’s a fucking miracle. it was a notification that distracted him mid-way putting on a t-shirt, was like a beacon in the dark on his bedside table. bare feet padded to grasp it and here he stands, gaping like a fucking idiot with nothing but boxers on and cold water dripping down his back.

wasn’t supposed to look. made a promise, swore it in the mirror staring into clear blue eyes that held nothing. wasn’t his intention, either, it just happened. everything seems to just happen to him. she just seem to text him at 1 in the morning the recipe from a few days back, and he just seems to find her profile again because he just wants to look. no further reason. she just seems to follow him and he just seems to pretend not to notice because he’s not very good at this, he’s not really good at anything.

and there she is, confined in a little electronic device held in his hand, looking at the camera, looking at him, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself. text back, likely, but he can’t think of a response – thank you? thanks? thumbs up emoji? chef emoji? just to mix it up a bit. the mattress dips when he sits on the bed. where the fuck are his cigarettes?

never too far, and the lighter isn’t, either, so he stands, and his phone is still in his hand like the thing is fucking glued to it, and he cracks the window open to let the summer night in. chicago doesn’t sleep, and neither does she, it seems, but he doesn’t, either, and when his teeth have something to bite onto he feels like he found an anchor.

thank you and love you are objectively interesting detonators, but there are other rare gems. where she’s smiling. look taken off-guard and never by her personally, always by someone else: hugging a bottle in the midnight new york vista, nursing a to-go cappuccino by the bodega too early in the morning, holding up a plastic puka shell necklace in the backdrop of a souvenir shop somewhere in yucatan. hugging her mother wearing a tracksuit while the former’s poised in a neat blazer. they look similar. carmen looks like his mother, too.

she’s more approachable when her eyes crinkle and cheeks apple and lips stretch to reveal a crescent line in the corner. pretty. real pretty. too pretty. maybe that’s why he doesn’t know what to say. maybe she doesn’t expect him to say anything. maybe that’s why she sent the message.

‘s not fair. he knows too much about her. knows her dad’s a renowned chef and her mother’s a business exec with a penthouse in brooklyn; knows she gets her tattoos in-house, on the couch, from some low-key junkie-looking artist that always wears a beanie;  knows she worked in an upscale restaurant in wallstreet. chef whites, neat, trimmed, fitting – nothing he can offer in his fucked joint. fuck is she doing in chicago, anyway? spent last summer backpacking across europe with a distinctly new york-looking art school dropouts that wore the latest sneakers and tiffany necklaces. rich kids, rich kid, what she gets now was likely her daily allowance.

all of that just because he’s noisy. just because he’s curious. just because she’s pretty and he’s too scared to actually talk to her.

shouldn’t talk to her about anything anyway. too awkward – can hardly form a coherent sentence without ripping his hair out in the first place. he’s her boss, she’d think he’s a fucking weirdo if she knew how much he had gathered about her already. just from looking. does sydney know? does richie know? that would be fucked. oddly insulting, even. but since carmen hasn’t heard richie calling her a spoiled brat yet, he supposes it’s safe to assume this information hasn’t reached him yet.

parasocial as shit. he feels on the verge of a panic attack by the way his heart is hammering in his chest. maybe it’s the 5th cigarette. maybe it’s because he’s been sleep deprived. maybe it’s because looking at her makes him lonely and this is fucked and just put the fucking phone down, carmen.

she's really hot, though. but he can’t say so, not out loud. not right now. not here. not in front of the bed, where the mattress sags when he sits, or in the window, where the wind rattles the glass ringing of common sense.

‘thanks for the recipe’ is a good start, ‘cool tats by the way’ is definitely a line that has crossed his mind, but can’t text that, either. too personal. too easy. too close. fuck did he look at them anyway, too busy staring at her tits. fuck.

she’d think he’s a creep because somehow, in the divine comedy of his life, he’d let it slip somehow, because he’s stupid. because thank you and love you slap at him on odd hours during the day. because he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

feels like he’s a teen again and a girl from school sent him her homework to copy. only the girl in a hot rich kid from nyc that works in his restaurant and is so far out of his league that she’s in a different fucking orbit.

the mattress dips again. he closes his eyes, exhales slowly, rubs his face with his free hand. can’t stop thinking. can’t stop looking. staring. wanting. get a fucking hold of yourself. doesn’t want to. too tired. too fucked. too alone.

she’s so pretty.

so smart.

so fucking pretty.

what is he doing? what the fuck is he doing?

he tries to swallow, but it feels like there's sand in his throat. can't think straight, every corner leads to her anyway in a comical gotcha moment. can't go back. can't go forward. can't do anything but sit here, stare at the phone, think the last threads of his fizzling mind will conceive a reply.

say something. say something.

she's so fucking pretty and his dick is so fucking hard.

inhales again, this time slowly. feels the first tremors of an erection ignored, the pulse in his neck, in his wrists.

his heart is pounding and he wants her to look at him, wants to look at her, wants to feel her touch him, wants to show her how much he wants her.

"fucking christ," he can hear the breathless crack in his voice. feel it, taste it.

his face burns and his hair falls over his forehead, already drying. there's sweat on his brow and a lump in his throat from the steady rise of panic, anticipation, desperation, whateverthefuck. the blood in his veins pounds through his chest – he can feel the vibration in his bones, and god, god god god, he’s so fucking horny.

can't move. can't breathe. can't think. can't stand being alone. can't stand the silence. can't stand not doing anything and can’t stand being like this because he’s not supposed to. not allowed, breach of contract, jesus, who does this shit in their spare time? a lot of people, probably, but carmen wouldn’t know.

"fuck."

he wants to close his eyes because she’s so cold on the screen but so warm in his mind. can’t do that. can't stop palming dick over his boxers, either – wants to pull them down, but that would mean looking at himself, so he stares at her picture instead.

he feels like a teenager again, vaguely wants to throw up. can't believe how hard he is. he's not supposed to be like this. this isn't going to end well.

he knows he's gonna fuck this up because he's already fucking it up. can't stop staring at her. can't stop touching himself. can't stop thinking about what she'd do if she knew he was sitting here ready to jerk off to her.

she'd probably freak the fuck out, and she'd have every right to. that doesn't stop that wandering hand of his from dipping below the elastic band anyway.

his breath scratches at his throat, stuck there as he feels his hand brush something warm. glances down, sees his middle finger pressing against the swollen tip. looks back at the phone, sees her smile, the hint of her teeth; his cock twitches at the sight of her like some deranged pavlovian response. his fingers curl around his shaft and go down in a nice, long stroke.

"fuck me," he hisses. eyes squeeze shut and hips push forward and head rolls back to release a small groan.

it's a slow slide of a rough palm, with just enough pressure to cause shivers. he thinks of her lips wrapped around his him. the way her tongue would tease him. the way her hair would tickle his thighs.

"so pretty," he breathes, but the words are lost in the rhythm of his hand, "fuck, sorry."

fingers and palm slide over the sensitive head, each pass adding more pressure until his hips buck and it feels like someone punched him in the gut and he sucks in a breath, the sound coming out more like a moan; squeeze, tighter this time, and he groans louder, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. teeth clamp down on his lower lip and all the oxygen in his lungs leaves with that.

the hand with the hand pierced by a kitchen knife pumps faster, coating the creases and veins in warm, sticky pre-cum leaking from the tip and leaving a stain on his boxers. he's breathing heavily, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that matches the throbbing of his cock.

he's so close already. so close he feels like he might actually lose his mind if he doesn't come soon.

"hm, fuck," he breathes out, eyes squeezing shut and fist tightening around the shaft as his hips jerk forward to meet the movement.

everything is swimming and spinning in the liquid dark around him, all the sensations coiled up into one chaotic bundle that's threatening to overwhelm him.

"yes," can't be his voice, can it? too raw, too desperate, too loud.

fist tightens even more and the throbbing is too much. feels like something is trying to get out of his body, like it's going to burst through his skin.

"oh fuck. oh fuck, oh fuck—"

everything is happening at once. everything is mounting to a small cry of her name.

he comes. coughs and huffs, head tipping back and hand still pumping. there's a low groan coming from his chest that sounds like it originated from some other person entirely.

then, it stills. his back hits the bed and he tries to gulp down air that stutters down his throat, the phone bouncing on the mattress beside him. the motions ripple in his spine, in tensed muscles that’ve gone lax. calm. outside the window, a siren howls first, then a dog.

he’s spent. feels good. cold air bites skin coated in sweat, like ice melting in the bed of a warm palm. “fuck.”

but the reality of the situation rips through the haze just as quick, and ignited by a sudden fucking unbearable anger, he grabs his phone and throws it across the room, “FUCK.”

ch.4: normal people

tags <3 @rexorangecouny - @astridyoo15 - @elliesbabygirl - @fortisfilia - @diorrfairy - @frequentnosebleeder - @eddiemunsonreader 

more notes: sum fun lil gemmie gems for my narrative lovin girlies in chat  1. timeline is worky asf, things flowing in an out perception - imagine it like moving frames of the show 2. carmy says “’s good” whilst he admires her silently - is he referring to her or the food? 3. who text their boss at 1am? rich kid explain 4. the swearing increases the more he’s distressed 5. major virgin alert, can u tell? 6. this is the only chapter so far where ive used caps lock

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

*Drops request in your inbox*

#35. Lucifer and Adam had gotten together recently, but already act like a married couple in their never ending honeymoon phase. So when Lilith comes back, everyone is expecting drama, and they get it but not what they thought.

Lilith is expecting to get that 'picture perfect family' back, like she wasn't just up and gone for years without any explanation on where she was at or why she didn't call back to Charlie's numerous voicemails. So Lucifer is indifferent, because why should he care that Lilith is finally back, after so long? He's moved on, long since got rid of his ring, got The One, His Adam, His Rightful Queen, like he should have from the beginning. The only good thing from his marriage with Lilith was Charlie, so if Lilith wants stay, BUT, only for Charlie, then Lucifer would allow it, other than that, he wants nothing to do with her. And he says all of this with a straight, will kinda, his face turn all mushy and bright when talking about His Adam.

*Runs away from inbox*

35. “Because love isn’t linear. You know that, right?”

It seemed like the honeymoon phase of their relationship was going to go on forever. Sure they had only been dating not even a full year, but knowing each other this long it was as if Adam and Lucifer were already married.

Everything seemed perfect. Then Lilith came walking in the door. Angel busted out the popcorn waiting for the drama which was sure to come.

Lucifer looked at the face of his ex-wife, she was still as beautiful as the day she left, sure. But his feelings for her had left along with her. "What are you doing here?"

Lilith gave him a smile. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for us, our family." Her eyes shifted to Adam. "Adam."

"Bitch."

"Charming as ever. Now, where were we?"

"You were leaving." Lucifer said as he opened the door behind her.

She blinked unbelieving. "What?"

"You heard me. If you want a relationship with Charlie and act like her mother for the first time in years, I can't stop you there. But as far as US? We ended the moment you left out that door without a moment's notice. I've moved on." Lucifer turned a gentle gaze to Adam, who smiled back at him.

"Oh you have go to be fucking kidding me, him!?" Lilith seethed.

Lucifer walked over to Adam and took his hand. "Yes him, the way it should have been from the fucking beginning. The only good that came out of our cold marriage was Charlie and that is the only thing I wouldn't change. But I should have been with him in the first place. He's my other half ." His Adam, the rightful Queen of Hell was with him at last. “Because love isn’t linear. You know that, right? There are ups and downs and I've had that with Adam. It hasn't been easy getting to the point we are at now, but fuck it all to Hell it's worth it."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious."

Lilith glanced down and saw his ring was gone. He meant it. "Fine. But when you two crash and burn like I know your shitty relationship will, don't come crawling back to me."

Lucifer glared. "Don't worry I won't and I think you underestimate how good we are together."

Lilith gave a glare of her own before leaving in a huff.

Adam was stunned by what just happened. "Wow."

"I meant every word, my dove." Lucifer said pulling Adam in close.

Adam smiled, his heart fluttered in his chest. "I love you, Luci."

"I love you, too, Adam."

[vide0-nasties]

Going to be rambling insanely about Ghost and probably what his feelings on the monarchy would be, coming from one deeply damaged povo to another.

Anyway, specifically around the time the parasite in chief in her idiot hat (thanks Eccleston lub u) died and passed said idiot hat on, I was seeing a lot of (fun and gentle-ribbing, mind you!) posts about Ghost getting razzed about the queen croaking and maybe him being sad about it or something - I don’t really remember bc I have shit for brains and I just latch onto what bits my adhd will allow.

SO. I really don’t think Bruv Innit gave two shits about Liz buying the farm, bc he grew up working class in a working class town to a drug addicted, drug peddling dad, and a fairly nondescript mom who likely didn’t have a way to get her and her kids out of that shit situation (per ‘09 MW lore and some presumption). I imagine dude was dragged around a shitload of council estates and his dad’s friends’ shitty crash pads, no stability whatsoever, where food insecurity was a big ass forever-looming deal, mom had no idea if her 20 year old vauxhall was going to make it another trip to her minimum wage part time job, and school was forever on the back burner bc when it came to school supplies/trips vs eating and keeping the lights on. You can guess which one won.

If we’re also going with him being about 35-40ish, he would’ve been 10-12ish or so around Diana’s divorce and then her death. So, here’s this starving, horrendously abused kid, with his starving, horrendously abused mother and little brother, drowning in a system that is pretty much just letting them sink to the bottom, nothing is being done about the evil sperm donor that ruins everything for them, and he’s obliterated constantly by TV coverage and tabloids and radio DJs talking about this goddamned family’s stupid fucking drama. Charles cheated, Diana left, her poor boys in their fancy private schools with their endless wealth and glowing skin and brand new clothes that don’t stink of consignment shops are sad.

Sorrows - sorrows, prayers. 🫶

It’s a story he’s seen countless times, the only difference is money and coverage. And, realistically, the women in the stories he knows aren’t killed in car wrecks, they’re killed by their infuriated husbands who think they’re owed something catching up. Maybe that’s why his mom doesn’t leave the cocksucker that trapped her, she could’ve ended up another council house Diana that no one gave a shit about.

He grows up, becomes a butcher’s apprentice, joins the army. Straightens his brother out, makes sure his mom is set up nice, finally beats the shit out of his dad. And all the while, there looms the most fucking pointless, parasitic family in England: living off taxes taken from the public, god knows how much land and how many castles, even owning all the fucking swans on the island.

Relics, vampires, leeches.

But, you know, twenty years down the road, he’s pushing 40, his services to the country are done in the dark, the family he tried so badly to save were brutally cut down anyway, and when he goes to Tesco, the price of a fifth of piss Smirnoff is insane, and he’s still got Soap swimming in his head mid-rant bc his mam’s fucking knee replacement appeal has been denied for the third time and she can’t even walk anymore, Gaz is moving for the second time in a year bc he just can’t afford to live close to his parents even on his salary, meanwhile there was a stretch where it looked like Philip was surviving solely by being pumped full of virgin blood and straight stem cells.

So, yeah, if anything he probably said cheers when the news broke and cracked a couple extra jokes that day.

“What d’you call one dead Windsor? A good start.”

Edit: This is picking up some traction. @50cal-fullauto-astarion is my CoD blog if you like my Call of Bullshit stuff, this is my main and I don’t really go into CoD here

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! so much drama, mention of underage drinking, angst, pretty much nothing else

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. series masterlist. taglist. ❫

As the sun set, you and Serena walked alongside one another. The New York air was cold, you certainly didn't miss the unrelenting weather of New York. Serena's arm looped into yours as you walked, enjoying each other's company.

"Look, don't take what Blair said to heart. She's just hurt that you left without saying anything." You began as you looked up at the taller blonde.

She looked like she was debating something in her head before she spoke up. "I know, I'm not worried. I'm talking to her tonight and hopefully it'll be the end of this whole Blair thing. I just want everything to be back the way it was."

"Me too. But it will be, I'm sure Blair will find a way to look past this whole thing." You reassured Serena as you two walked the streets, your face cold to the touch because of the temperature.

"So, what's going on with you and your family?" Serena questioned as she changed the focus back to you.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of Serena's question settling heavily. "Well, where do I even begin?" you muttered, a wry smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"It's... complicated," you began, choosing your words carefully. "My dad just told me this morning that him and his wife are having a new baby."

"Oh, wow." Serena's eyes widen in shock as she stared down at me. "How long have they even been married?"

"Like, a year." You chuckled, looking up at the blonde's empathetic gaze. "It's been tough to watch it happen. I missed you, a lot. It hurt me too that... you just left without a word."

Serena's gaze softened as she heard your words. You were always the understanding one but it looked like this time, she really did hurt you. "It wasn't because of you or Blair." She began, her expression gulity as she continued to speak. "I had to escape, Y/N. My parents, Blair, just New York. It was beginning to weigh on me. And now I'm back and I have to..." She paused as she looked back at me.

"What? It's okay, you can tell me." You spoke softly as she sighed. She was debating whether or not telling you was the best idea before she realized that it was just you, maybe the most trustworthy person she knows - or maybe in the whole Upper East-Side.

Serena exhaled before she continued. "Eric... He attempted."

She didn't have to continue or give you more context for you to understand. Your jaw slightly slacked as she spoke. Eric? The sweetest boy ever and her little brother?

"I still don't even know why." Serena began as she scoffed. "I feel like a shitty sister. I didn't even know he was feeling like this, Y/N. And when I found out, it was... too late. I didn't see the signs, or maybe I just didn't want to."

You couldn't even imagine the guilt Serena felt as she spoke. "I'm so sorry, Serena," you murmured, your heart aching for your friend as she shared her pain with you.

Serena let out a shaky breath, her gaze meeting yours as she silently conveyed her gratitude. "I just... I needed to get away, to clear my head," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "But now, being back here, it's like everything's come rushing back. And I don't know how to handle it."

"I know how you feel." You responded, a faint smile on your face as Serena stopped before pulling you into a tight, unexpected hug. You hugged for a few more moments before Serena began to pull away, sniffling.

"You have no idea how relieving it is to hear you say that, Y/N/N. At least I have you on my side, right?" Her voice broke slightly as her lips curved into a sad smile.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you returned Serena's embrace, the weight of her words sinking deep into your heart. "Always, Serena," you whispered, your voice choked with tears. "You'll always have me."

Serena nodded, a glimmer of hope flickering in her blue eyes as she wiped away a stray tear. "Thank you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

"No need to thank me," you replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "That's what friends are for."

──౨ৎ──

Music played through a speaker as you curled your hair in the middle of Blair's huge room. You two were getting ready for the Kiss on the Lips party and you weren't gonna lie, you were excited. One thing you definitely missed were the Manhattan parties, they were always so fun and entertaining, something you were craving right about now.

And you needed a distraction from the impending drama of your family, of course.

The up-beat music filled the spacious room, adding to the excitement in the air ss you curled your hair. You stole glances at Blair, who was applying her makeup in front of the vanity.

"You excited for tonight?" Blair asked, her gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

"Yeah, I missed these parties. Parisians definitely don't party like we do." You smirked as Blair laughed. "And you're looking extra stunning tonight, Blair," you commented, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

Blair flashed you a grateful smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Thanks, Y/N. You're not looking too bad yourself," she replied, her tone teasing as she turned to give you a playful wink.

You began trying to tie your hair back but kept failing. An annoyed scoff left your mouth before Blair turned her attention back to you, getting up from her vanity to come and join you. "Need help?"

You looked up at your best friend, a smile enveloping on your lips as you nodded. "Yes, please." You let out a laugh as she joined you, grabbing your hair and beginning to tie it up.

"So you're telling me you spent six months in Paris and still don't know how to put your hair in a good half-up half-down style?" Blair teased as you laughed again.

Blair's playful banter eased the tension that had been building within you, and you couldn't help but chuckle at her teasing remark.

"Hey, I was too busy soaking up the culture to worry about perfecting my hair tying skills," you retorted, a grin spreading across your face as Blair arranged your hair into a effortless half-up half-down style.

When you two were kids, Serena, Blair and you had something you were very good at. For Serena, it was her fashion sense and for Blair, it was her amazing hair skills. And for you, it was makeup. So when you would all get ready, Blair would always help you with your hair and Serena would help you with your outfit, and in return you would help them with their makeup, that's the way it's always been.

Well, except now.

Blair smirked, her fingers deftly weaving your locks into a half-up half-down style. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to help you out," she replied with a wink, her confidence evident.

"Is Nate coming with us in the limo?" You asked, trying to act nonchalant as Blair helped you with your hair.

She paused before continuing. "Yeah, he is. And speaking of Nate, um... I actually needed to talk to you about something."

Your heart began racing as Blair finished your hair, moving to take a seat next to you. "You kissed Nate."

Your heart dropped as Blair spoke, feeling instantly guilty. "Blair, I promise that I was-"

"Drunk and confused, I know. Nate told me, don't worry." She had a smile on her lips as she continued to gaze back at you. As you observed her expression more, she didn't seem angry at all. "It doesn't matter because you both were drunk. And you're my real best friend."

"Blair, I promise you that it was just a peck. And it was no feelings whatsoever." You couldn't stop the lies from leaving your mouth as Blair nodded.

"Nate told me," she repeated. "Listen, you've been there for me since we were kids. And you didn't leave me like Serena did. Plus, I know you and I know you'd never do anything to hurt me. So let tonight mark the day we just leave all this drama in the past?"

You were surprised at Blair's maturity and the genuine forgiveness she extended toward you.. Despite the guilt gnawing at you, her words brought a sense of relief, knowing that she trusted you enough to let go of the incident with Nate.

"Yeah, of course," you replied, a sense of gratitude washing over you. "Thank you, Blair. I really appreciate it."

"Nate is your best friend, too. I don't want you to feel like you need to cut him out of your life, okay?" Blair's voice softened as she turned back to face you, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

"It's not that easy, Blair. And plus, I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." You tried to make up an excuse but Blair's gaze was unrelenting as she shook her head.

"One kiss won't ruin a whole friendship." She scoffed as she silented you quickly. "Don't think of it as for Nate, do it for me. He needs you, Y/N."

He needs you, that echoed in your mind for a few seconds as you tried to think of a way to respond. She was right; Nate had been there for you through thick and thin, just as you had been for him. But the memory of that kiss, however brief and inconsequential it seemed, still gnawed at you.

"I know you're looking out for both of us, Blair," you finally replied, meeting her gaze with sincerity. "And I appreciate that. I'll try to... be there for Nate, for you."

Blair's expression softened, a hint of relief flickering in her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me."

"And one more thing." Blair spoke as she got up, beginning to walk to her vanity. "Serena is not to be trusted. You're the only real person I know right now and... I just want to tell you because you're far too forgiving to be friends with a person like Serena. She doesn't want what's best for you."

You felt a knot form in your stomach as Blair's words sank in. Serena had always been a source of comfort for you and Blair. You thought that Serena had fixed this whole mess earlier. Blair's warning cast a shadow of doubt over your perception of her.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern as you followed Blair to her vanity, unable to shake off the feeling of unease. "Blair, she's our best friend. You can't just cut her out-"

"She's not our best friend anymore. Just trust me, okay?" Blair turned to face you, her expression angry as she met your gaze. "And I don't want to see you get hurt."

You nodded slowly, absorbing Blair's warning with a mix of concern and uncertainty.

"But let's just focus on tonight, alright?" She began applying lip gloss as you watched her.

You were suddenly regretting coming back to the train-wreck that is the Upper-East Side drama.

──౨ৎ──

You all stepped out of the limo, the music from the party pulsating through the night air, adding to the excitement coursing through your veins. The Kiss on the Lips party was in full swing, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air as you made your way towards the entrance.

As you stepped onto the sidewalk, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you, mingled with a touch of anxiousness because of the conversation you'd had with Blair, roughly an hour ago.

Blair linked her arm with yours, a reassuring gesture as she flashed you a confident smile. "Ready to have some fun?"

You returned her smile with a nod, determined to put aside any lingering doubts or worries for the night. "Absolutely. Let's make it a night to remember."

But before you two could walk away, Blair's eyes lingered to behind you as she rose her eyebrows. "Actually, you have someone you need to talk to."

You turned your head and your eyes fell on Nate. You rolled your eyes as you turned back at Blair. "Not now, Blair. I just want to get drunk and-"

"Now, Y/N." She gave you a strict look and before you could protest, she called over Nate. You silently cursed her as he came over to the two of you. You didn't know why she was so persistent on you making up with Nate.

Blair's insistence left you feeling slightly annoyed, but you knew there was no arguing with her when she had that determined look in her eyes. With a sigh, you turned your attention to Nate as he approached, his expression a mix of uncertainty and anticipation.

"Hey, guys." Nate greeted you, a nervous smile playing on his lips. His eyes shifted to Blair as she gave him a nod.

You sighed inwardly, getting yourself ready to the inevitable conversation. "Hey, Nate. What's up?"

Blair glanced between the two of you, a hint of satisfaction in her expression before she excused herself, disappearing into the crowd with Kati and Isabel.

"I, uh... wanted to talk to you," Nate began, his gaze shifting between you and the ground. "Let's go somewhere more quiet."

"Sure," you replied, following Nate's lead as he guided you to a quieter corner of the room, away from everyone else.

Nate took a deep breath, his expression serious yet tinged with uncertainty. "Look, Y/N, I know things have been weird between us since... you know."

"Yeah," you replied softly, the memory of that drunken kiss still fresh in your mind despite your efforts to push it aside.

"I still meant what I said." Nate spoke softly and before you could protest, he continued. "I meant that I really do love you. I still do. But this morning, you were right. You are Blair's best friend and I can't pit you two against each other."

Your heart skipped a beat at Nate's confession, his words stirring a mix of emotions within you. You struggled to find the right response, caught between the weight of his words and the loyalty you felt towards Blair.

"But none of this matters without you, Y/N. When you left, I've never felt more alone." Nate let out a sigh as he gazed at you, almost adoringly. "I had no one to go to. Chuck doesn't understand like you do and it was the longest and worst six months of my life. I don't ever wanna lose you again, and if that means pushing aside my obvious feelings for you... then so be it."

"Nate, I..." You faltered, the words catching in your throat as you searched for the right response. His sincerity was palpable, his eyes pleading with you to understand the depth of his feelings. "I don't know what to say."

"I don't need you to." Nate offered you a small smile, his gaze unwavering as he reached out to gently grasp your hand. "I didn't know how to say it before. But I needed you to know, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, a flood of conflicting emotions washing over you. You knew the implications of his confession, the potential fallout it could have on with everyone. But in that moment, all you could focus on was the connection between you and Nate, the bond that had endured through the years.

"I missed you too, Nate," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't want to lose you either."

Nate's grin widened, a sense of relief washing over his features as he squeezed your hand in return. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You slowly pulled your hand out of his grip as you sighed. "Then we need to just stay friends, okay?"

Nate's smile mirrored yours, a sense of relief evident in his expression. "Agreed," he said, extending a hand towards you. "Friends?"

"Friends," you affirmed, clasping his hand firmly in yours. "Now let's put everything in the past and get absolutely shit-faced tonight."

Nate chuckled, a genuine laugh escaping his lips as he nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

The venue was crowded as you and Nate walked back in. Decorative lights adorned the walls, casting a colorful glow throughout the room and adding to the atmosphere. You quickly found Blair again and she pulled you closer to her.

"Did you guys talk it out?" Blair inquired, her voice barely audible over the music as she gave you a small smile.

You nodded, a sense of relief flooding through you as you glanced at Nate standing beside you. "Yeah, we did. Everything's sorted now."

Blair's smile widened at your response, a hint of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "Great! Kati, go get us some drinks," she instructed, turning to her friend with a commanding tone. Kati, always eager to please Blair, nodded and quickly disappeared into the crowd, her figure weaving effortlessly through the crowd.

After a few drinks, you and Blair danced as Lady Gaga played through the speakers. You threw your head back as you moved your body, unaware of the eyes watching you and Blair as you let go of all the worries. With each sway of your hips and toss of your hair, you felt the weight of the world lifting off your shoulders.

You laughed, watching Blair dance so freely. In that moment, as you laughed and danced alongside Blair, you felt a sense of pure joy wash over you. Nothing else mattered but the music, the laughter and the excitement of being with your closest friend after so long.

But of course this was Manhattan, that kind of excitement could only last so long without an interruption. Blair's gaze moved behind you and as you turned, you saw Serena walking through the crowd with a familiar looking man.

"What's Serena doing here?" Blair's bitter voice was heard over the music as she made her way over there. Nate scoffed as he followed her, pulling her arm to stop.

"Are you really gonna kick her out of the party?" Nate looked down at his girlfriend, annoyance evident on his face.

Blair scoffed as she met his gaze with a tinge of hurt. "Did you invite her?"

You stood in between them, confusion clear in your expression. What did you miss? You knew that Blair was mad at Serena, but what the hell did it have to do with Serena? "Guys, what the hell happened?"

Nate and Blair shared a look before she pulled her arm out of Nate's grip. His gaze seemed like pleading and hers seemed nothing short of livid. "What you missed was Nate sleeping with Serena at the Shepherd wedding."

Your heart dropped as you looked back at Nate. And with that, Blair walked away from the two of you, attempting to go find Serena. He did what?

Nate sleeping with Serena? It felt like a betrayal, not just to Blair, but to you as well. How could he do something like that, especially knowing the history between Blair and Serena, and the close bond you all shared?

You scoffed, giving Nate no room to speak. Pushing past Nate and the crowd, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the party. You needed time to process everything, to figure out where to go from here. But one thing was for sure: things would never be the same again.

As you ran out of the venue, you could hear Nate trailing close behind you.

Ignoring Nate's calls behind you, you quickened your pace, the weight of betrayal heavy on your shoulders. The cold night air hit you as you burst out of the venue, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to make sense of the chaos inside your mind.

"Nate, just leave me alone," you called out, not bothering to turn back as you continued down the street, your heart pounding in your chest.

But Nate didn't give up, his footsteps echoing behind you as he caught up. "Y/N, please, just let me explain," he pleaded, his voice laced with desperation.

He finally grabbed your arm, making you stop as you whirled around to face him, your eyes flashing with anger and hurt. "Explain what, Nate? How could you do that?" You scoffed before continuing. "You slept with my best friend the same night you told me you loved me. How could you do that? And I'm not even gonna talk about Blair, cause I'm sure you already know."

"I was hurt, Y/N. I-I told you I loved you and you just ignored me, like it's some meaningless word." Nate's voice cracked with emotion as he spoke, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"But I was hurting too. I felt like you didn't care about me the way I cared about you, and I let that cloud my judgment. I made a terrible mistake, one that I regret every single day since it happened."

His words cut through your anger, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. You wanted to be angry, to lash out at him for betraying so many people with one action. But you also couldn't ignore the pain in his voice, the genuine remorse in his eyes.

You sighed as you looked down at the floor. You pulled your arm out of his grasp, your gaze softening as you looked at him. "I need time, Nate. I don't think we can... we can just go back to how it was now."

Nate's expression fell, disappointment evident in his eyes as he took a step back, nodding in understanding. "I get it," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone on the sidewalk, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. As you watched him disappear into the night, you couldn't help but wonder if forgiveness was possible after such a betrayal.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

🦐 to recognize my post

Am I the asshole for asking my grandmother if I can move in with her?

This’ll be one of your classic reddit-style family dramas, I think. Back in late 2019 just before COVID, I (freshly 18 at the time) had run away from home with my mom and moved in with my best friend (R, 17 in 2019) and her (60s, deeply depressed) dad. Her dad and I were on good terms for a long time, but respectfully, he has a tendency to repress any issues he has with someone until they build into a bigger issue. Near toward November of 2020, he kicked me out on account of ‘not keeping a job and not doing anything around the house’ (I washed stagnant dishes often, took care of their several animals, and took out trash whenever I could, R and I think he was projecting his shitty roommates from when he was 20 onto me), so I needed a new place to move.

My own beloved father lives ten hours away, and offered for me to live with him. For months, I was preparing to pick up my entire life from the hometown I had lived in since I was 2 years old to move to a new state, and in the last month, I got cold feet and said I couldn’t make such a large change like that. My dad completely understood, and I went to look for a new place to stay, still living with R and her dad at this time.

During this period, I was getting closer with my grandmother on my mom’s side again. She was one of the few family members I felt comfortable with, and we often went to Panera for lunch dates to catch up on things. I won’t go super deep into why I’m so anxious about the rest of the family, because that would require an entire several page google document to explain (especially now that we’re actively banned from holidays).

It was around this time I asked my grandmother if I could move into one of her five or six spare rooms upstairs. My grandfather had died in the last couple of months, and I was confident that if she needed any help (she’s in her mid eighties) moving things upstairs or cleaning the house, I would be beyond glad to do it for her. She then hesitated and said it may be a better idea for me to move in with my dad after all (which was odd, because she hates my dad’s guts, as does the rest of my family), and I let it go after that. I didn’t push, I would just need to find a new place. 

Well, word got around, and she told my aunts and older cousins in passing. I don’t remember if I got sent anything in specific, but one of my aunts (mother’s older sister who I'm genuinely terrified of) absolutely fucking exploded on my (54 at the time) mom, giving her a several paragraph long shitstorm of a message saying she was a terrible mother for letting me take advantage of my grandmother, calling her horrible things, slurs, and insulting her wife, and it got back to me somehow. I was fucking shredded apart emotionally.

Since then, I have moved back in with my mother out of necessity and we have totally reconciled our relationship in the three or so years I’ve been home, and my entire mother’s side of the family- aside from my grandmother- has completely cut contact and don’t invite us to holidays anymore, for significantly more ridiculous reasons than me asking my grandmother what I did.

My mother’s side of the family ostracized her, myself, and my sister since my mother first married my dad 25ish years ago, and has just never treated her the same since, which explains some of the hostility (I want to specify, I’m confident that my mother did nothing outright wrong for this, my family is extremely far-right and EXTREMELY judgemental, and my mom bore unnecessary vitrol for everything she went through), but I need to know if I was actually the asshole for asking to move in with my grandmother, who even now still cares about me as family and lives alone. I could give less of a shit what my aunt thinks now (she lives an entire day’s drive away, in a different state as well), but I can’t help but shake the fear that I was actually taking advantage of her kindness or something of the sort. Was this a wrong thing to ask? Was this actually too much, and should I not have bothered?

What are these acronyms?

[ktficworld]

The Cinderella Moment

Pairing: reader x (you choose)

Summary: You are a broke college student who works for a very stuck up, arrogant and rude rich family. They give you food and shelter and so you always accept their impossible orders with a nod. But their order to go to a ball, disguised as their daughter might just flip your world upside down.

Warnings: Riches being shitty, reader's broke, verbal abuse.

A/n: This is an experiment and I dunno how it's gonna turn out, but if you like it then please do reblog.

"8 weeks? Can't it heal faster? The ball is just around the corner." The shrill voice of madam Abigail pierced your ears as you discreetly rubbed them.

The doctor who was sitting at the injured Rose's side shook his head and said. "No, Mrs. Thompson. It takes 6 to 8 weeks for a broken arm to fully heal."

Madam Abigail fall down on one of the chairs dramatically and you rolled your eyes as you took in the scene from a secluded corner of the room.

You were a college student. Well, a broke college student to be exact. You did get into a prestigious college on scholarship but the other bills were crippling down on you. You didn't want to burden your parents as your financial background was not favorable. After working in cafes and fast food chains, living in crappy apartments and skipping breakfast everyday. When you saw the job posting for a house keeper with housing and food, you jumped on it like a cat jumping on a ball.

You were finally able to move out of your shitty apartment with not so nice company into a decent maid's room and the food was also better than the leftovers at your previous jobs.

However, not everything was rainbows and sunshines. Your employer was horrible, condescending, rude and overall the epitome of rich, stuck-up assholes. You now worked almost 24/7, having to be present on a whim and maintaining everything into perfection.

It was like retail job, just no off time with Karens screaming at you all the time. But you didn't give a fuck. Every insult hurled at you would fall on deaf ears because you learnt long time ago that detachment really annoyed people with superiority complex.

Mr. Thompson was rarely home so it was only Abigail and her ducklings following her around. The only person who was nice to you was laying on the bed with a broken arm. The only one eligible for the grand ball.

Oh, the grand ball? It was a masquerade party, the most hyped upcoming event, organized by one of the richest man in the country, so he could find someone to settle down with. People called him prince because he was the youngest in the bunch of old billionaires.

Of course it was nothing but arranged marriage and someone actually meeting the prince and catching his eyes would be like finding a needle in a haystack. But there would be many other wealthy suitors than just him. So, needless to say, the ball was a gold mine for potential catches.

Abigail and many of her tea time friends were so furious that only girls above 18 were allowed. They would send their nine year old if it meant snatching a good deal.

And so seeing the only candidate from their family injured and unattractive. Abigail was devasted to say the least.

"Is there really no way for a speedy recovery? Can she not wear her cast on the night of the ball? It's really important." She Shrieked.

The doctor was agitated but contained it well and answered in a balanced voice. "Unfortunately, no. We cannot dictate when the recovery would happen and she needs to wear the cast all the time for the arm to heal properly and effectively. You should take care of your daughter."

Abigail scoffed at that and sobbed into her handkerchief, not even sparing Rose a glance. She was visibly upset by it but probably did not want any drama as she whispered out. "Mom, it's going to be alright. It okay."

Abigail's head snapped towards Rose as she scowled at her daughter. "How is it going to be alright? You're going to miss such a great opportunity. And you're so stupid. How did you fall from the stairs? Do you not have eyes? I'm so unfortunate to have an useless child like you..." Abigail continued to berate her daughter and you sneakily went to the doctor to escort him out as the scene was about to turn ugly and he didn't sign up for a reality TV show.

The doctor thanked you and handed you a prescription. You nodded and went back. Sure enough, they were both shouting at each other now. Rose tried to shot back but since she was injured, she lacked her usual ferocity as Abigail managed to dominated her.

You shook your head in exasperation and opened your mouth to interrupt. You might get into trouble for this but you couldn't watch Abigail scold a sick and fragile Rose, when she did nothing to deserve it.

"Madam, I think you should let miss Rose rest and it might help with a quicker recovery." You said and braced yourself to get chewed out.

Abigail spun on her heels, her whale-like face flushed with rage as she pointed a harsh finger at you and started. "You don't need to meddle-" She cut herself off as a look of awe dawned on her face, like she had an epiphany.

She rushed towards you. Grabbing you by the arm and dragged you beside Rose. What is this woman doing? You didn't want to get yelled at so you remained there with a bewildered frown as Abigail's assessing gaze flicked between you and Rose, her smile widening with each gaze.

After the tenth gaze, Abigail clapped her hands in glee and exclaimed. "Perfect. You are perfect." And stared at you.

"I'm perfect for what?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You are perfect to go to the ball as Rose. Just look at you two both, look like pretty twins." Abigail gushed, her eyes twinkling with hope.

You gawked at her, applaud. "Are you shitting me?"

Abigail snapped her eyes at you and barked. "Mind your language, servant."

You put up your hand. "Ma'am, I won't. I have done everything you asked me to do. From cleaning the deepest corner of the mansion by myself to entertaining pervy men. I have done everything, but I won't do this. I won't go in place of Rose. I don't want to deceit anyone." You ranted.

This woman had asked you to do so many egregious things and you did them without any complaint. However, this is where you draw the line. It was alright when you were the only one taking the brunt of her deviousness but if she wants you to deceive other people, you wouldn't do it.

Considering you had just been lied to yourself. The man who claimed to love you, got engaged with someone else without a peep of protest. You were just his play thing.

Abigail looked like she wanted to slap you as her face flushed red and her eyes twitched. "You ungrateful, brat. I gave you a roof, food, safety and that's how you repay me? By counting all the bare minimum you have done? I thought that maybe you had some sense of integrity but I should have known better," She scoffed wryly and looked you dead in the eye. "Tell me, how much you want me to pay you to go to this ball?"

To all the insults you have been subjected to, this genuinely offended you. "Ma'am, you could sell your morals for money but I can't. Even if you give me a billion dollar I won't go. I don't want to trick someone into believing I'm somebody else. This is my boundary I won't cross."

Abigail sneered. "Just drop your act already-"

"Mom, let me talk to her." Rose interjected and you flashed her a determined look. You weren't going to budge on this one.

"What would you talk to her? You are just as dumb as her." Abigail yelled.

"If I didn't convince her then you can call me as many insults as you'd like. Now please, get out." She responded, softy but firmly.

Abigail huffed and whined but left the room nonetheless, the door clicking shut but you knew she was right outside the door, listening to everything and so did Rose as she beckoned you to the bed. You sighed and sat down beside her.

"Listen, you should go. Have fun, eat expensive food and rob my mother of as much money as you need to get out of here. And before you start about deceit and all that. You don't need to meet anyone, just imagine what are your chances of meeting the prince and catching his eye? Maybe one percent. Every women would be busy fawning over him, you won't even get an opportunity." Rose explained in a hushed voice.

When she put it like that it didn't sound bad but you were still apprehensive. "But I have already said no to the money, if I demand it now then she would be proven correct and what about the other suitors?" You countered.

"Who cares what my mother thinks of you? She already thinks you are inferior and nothing would change that, then why not use the opportunity and get out of her claws? And as for the other suitors, as I said you don't need to meet anyone there. My mother won't be there to make sure you are putting in the efforts or not." She argued.

"You sure you are Abigail's bio daughter? You doesn't seem to like her much." You half joked, half lamented. Now the idea of going to the ball wasn't looking bad or deceitful. Just a solace night in a pretty dress.

Rose let out a bitter laugh. "Unfortunately, I'm. And I don't like the way you are treated but that's the only thing I can do. Plus, the event may cheer you up, since you're going through a lot right now..." She trailed off, probably not wanting to open your fresh wound.

You hummed quietly and let the room get silent. After some hesitation, you whispered. "You did it intentionally." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Rose was far from being clumsy or reckless so for her to fall from the stairs she could navigate blindly. It was rather suspicious.

"I let my love go once y/n. I can't let it go again." She whispered back.

You gulped due to the tension. "So, shall I call your mother?" You asked to lighten the mood and it worked as Rose beamed at you and nodded her head.

"So, you'd go?" She asked hopefully.

"Yes, I'd go." You said with a grin, image be damned Rose was right. Scam Abigail and get the fuck out of there.

You opened the door and a very annoyed and impatient Abigail stomped inside. She glowered at you expectantly and you cleared your throat.

"After Rose's arguments, I have decided to go to the ball. If you give me my desired price." You said monotonously.

A look of smugness crossed her face as she scoffed and said. "I knew it. So much for morals. Now spit your price."

And so you did.

You asked for an amount that would keep you afloat for a year. You had initially asked for 4 years worth of money, yes greedy. But you knew it would not make a dent in their bank balance and you really wanted to get back for all the obnoxious and unreasonable things she had made you do it.

However, Abigail wasn't pleased with this offer as she shouted that she would only give you that amount if you managed to woo the prince. You had no plans for doing that so you let go of that notion.

It gave you the much needed vacation from your work but the practice that came afterwards almost made you take back your offer and go back to scrubbing the floors.

The process to become Rose was strenuous. From how you walked to how you talked, everything needed to be exactly like Rose. Cursing was thrown out the window. You had to walk slowly with small steps with a sway of your hips, no long strides were allowed. Heck, you couldn't even slouch. Although you didn't receive a scathing hit by wooden stick, Abigail's earbiting voice and insults were not any pleasant either.

You had to speak like you were talking to crickets, poised and low. Cracking Rose's accent and voice was the toughest task but you pulled it off. Everything was so meticulous, from clothing to manners to behavior. These effluent women had to be perfect, not human. But it was all useless as you wouldn't be behaving like the perfect little doll at the ball. Maybe it would help you further down the line to snatch a rich man if you turned out to be a failure.

Rose also got some relief from her banshee of a mother as she mostly helped you and took care of herself, her mother didn't give two fucks about her daughter's health.

That was how the days passed and here you were now, sitting ahead of Rose's vanity as Abigail dolled you up for the ball. She didn't hire any stylist or artist as it could risk her scheme getting out, no matter how much she paid them.

"You must secure a man for my daughter or you will not be getting any money." Abigail hissed as she zipped up your dress.

"That is not the terms we agreed on. You are paying me to go to the ball as Rose, not to woo a man. I'll try to do my best but you can't hold back my payment." You bit back. You weren't an idiot, you had made her sign a contract and this bit wasn't in it.

Abigail scowled at you and muttered under her breath. "Little wicked tramp." And stepped back as you were ready.

You rolled your eyes, the comment sliding off of your consciousness like butter as you glanced up to assess your reflection.

And you were awestruck to say the least.

Your makeup was minimal as it would get overshadowed by the dim lights and mask anyways. However, it brought out your features to the fullest, making you look like a princess.

The dress was even more mesmerizing. It was a dusty blue fluffy gown with a heart neckline and white embroidery shattered throughout. It flowed like ichor on your body, making you look ethereal.

You hummed in admiration and grabbed the same coloured mask from the vanity, you tied it behind your head as Rose came near you.

"You look so beautiful, even with the mask. I think you would have a hard time dodging men." She teased.

You swatted her forearm and whirled around to glare at her. "Don't say stuff like that, Rose. I'm already a nervous wreck inside." You whined. It was true, going or doing something for the first time always felt daunting but this time you felt like an intruder as you didn't belong in that party at all. Thankfully, the anonymity of the mask was a sigh of relief to you.

Rose chuckled and bobbed your nose. "No, I'm serious. You look really pretty-"

She was cut off by a yell from Abigail. "Come on, you'll be late. Do you want people to think that we are late arrivers?"

You sighed deeply as Rose shook her head. "Okay, have fun and stay away from boys. Bye." She said and hugged you.

You hugged her back and said hastily. "Okay, bye." And jogged out of the room and into the car as Abigail's insults played in the background.

👑👠💃

"Miss, we have arrived." The unassuming driver said and pulled open the car door.

The respect was peculiar as you gingerly stepped outside. Your dusty blue pumps stark against the grey pavement. Abigail wanted you to wear heels but you'd be damned if you risked blisters or a twisted ankle on your precious feet.

You smoothed down your dress and started walking forward, your breath catching in your throat upon gazing at the banquet. The venue appeared heavenly, with white gates and staircase like golden glass, leading to the paradise of the elite. It was bustling with people who had enough money to buy your soul. All hidden behind their customized mask and clothes, some were extravagant, some were elegant.

Their expensive scent mingled in the air, creating a tantalizing and mystical aura. It was amplified by the dim lights of the hall, leaving the mind tranquil and intrigued for the suitors behind the veils.

Although the low light made it hard to decipher the interior of the hall. It definitely was of Victorian style as it was opulent and eloquent at the same time.

You looked around like a curious child as you observed and admired the beauty, upper class deemed normal.

You rushed to the food first, eating every of those stupidly expensive yet tasty dishes from all around the world. They were a lot so you ate small portions but your favorite had to be the chocolate fountain where you may or may not have coated your fingers with chocolate and licked them clean. No, classy ladies like you didn't do such things.

You tried to talk to some other girls as well but they were more interested in finding their future husbands. Hence, all your conversations died shortly after some begrudging small talk.

Those also attracted unwanted male attention so you quickly noped out of there and began exploring the venue however it was way bigger than you expected. Though mostly consisting of bedrooms and suites, you had squealed in surprise when you had found a small library tucked away in the lounge. You wanted to read there so badly, but you had come here to mess around not hide in a corner and read Jane Austen like your usual self.

However your enthusiasm had mellowed down as you now stared out the large bay window, in a secluded corner, chewing on fruits and silently observing the party.

"How come there's no fountain in the garden?" You mused to yourself. You had even gone to the garden and found no fountain and now gazing at it again reminded you of that smidge of flaw again.

"Because it's in the balcony." A deep voice said from behind.

You gasped, one hand flying to your racing heart as the other clutched onto the fruit plate for dear life, your body slightly trembling from the unexpected adrenaline surging to your veins.

You whipped your head to look at the perpetrator as he gave you a sheepish and apologetic look. You couldn't clearly make out his face but the golden light coming from the oil lamp above you and the white moonlight casted an unique glow on his porcelain face, his stark blue eyes twinkling in the lights.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You looked lonely so I thought to give you some company." He said, his black suit and mask made him blend into the surroundings like the devil lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for an opportunity.

"So, you were stalking me?" You said sharply before you could even comprehend your words. You instantly regretted it as dread filled your stomach. Fuck, he wasn't some random man you could sass around. He was definitely a very powerful man, he dripped from it.

He chuckled, the sound soothing to your ears. "I was not stalking. I was... Observing." He said playfully.

You relaxed at his nonchalance and smirked at him. "So, you were definitely stalking." You teased back.

"Oh, come on. I'm trying to be romantic here. Plus, a little birdie like you, standing alone in a corner while everybody danced? You'd definitely stick out like a sore thumb." He said.

You snapped your gaze back to the main area and sure enough, everyone was twirling on the melody flowing in the air, while you stares out a window like a werido.

"I didn't know people were dancing." You whispered, more to yourself but he heard it.

"Since we are the only loners left, might you enjoy some company?" He suggested with a charming smirk and extended his hand for you, his sapphire blue eyes flickering towards the dance floor.

Rejection must be as clear as day on your face as he retrieved his hand with a pout and walked closer to you. You stepped backwards, your back hitting the window.

"Just one dance with you, pretty please?" He pleaded and gently brought his hand over his heart like it would get wounded by your denial.

It was so coy that it made you chuckle. "Hmmm, I'll dance with you but only on one condition. You'll have to show me the balcony." You offered and he nodded ecstatically.

He stretched out his hand once again and this time you took it. Your skirt twirled as he held your waist and whisked you to the dance floor. No one noticed your presence, too engrossed in their own world. However, you did.

You took notice how in the light of the chandelier, his face was more visible, how sharp his jaw was. You noticed how his muscular arms felt beneath your hands as you clutched onto them. How his body enveloped yours, a cocoon you never wanted to leave.

"You are so beautiful. " He murmured, close to your face. His gaze piercing as his voice sent shivers down your spine.

"But not as Beautiful as you. " You whispered and huffed out a breathy chuckle. You wanted to see him without his mask.

He beamed at you but swiftly grabbed your hand that was gliding behind his head, near his mask string. "Don't do that, darling." He husked out, bringing your hand to his lips, he kissed your palm. Heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away, making him chuckle. He was devilishly charming.

"Your palms are not, soft. Why?" He asked inquisitively. He was observant for sure or had kissed many women's palms.

"I-uh, like to do some manual labour. Some for fun, some for skills." You stuttered out, hoping it wouldn't blow your cover.

"That's nice. But I totally forgot to ask, what's your name?" He asked softly.

"What's your name?" You countered, anxiety brewing inside you.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "What's in the name?" And winked at you.

"Exactly." You gasped when he spun you around, your back hitting his muscular chest.

"So, what are you looking for?" He asked in your ear.

It took you a moment to process his question. "Fun." You replied.

"No, in terms of love. Don't you wanna love someone?"

You didn't like where this conversation was heading as you turned in his arms and wrapped your hands around his neck. 'Don't you?"

"I don't have time for love?" He said honestly.

"It's overrated anyways."

He let out a throaty laugh. "No, it's not overrated," He said and pulled you closer, his earthy scent hypnotizing you. "It's painfully sweet."

"Mhm, you're really poetic." You teased.

"So, you want to see the fountain?" He asked with a smirk.

"Yes, why not?" You instantly replied.

He chuckled and twirled you around, leading to the staircase parallel to the entrance. He led you up and gradually the lighting intensified as as you both left the main floor and entered into a stairway. It was illuminated by enormous chandeliers with wide bronze steps and Victorian style walls. You both stopped ahead of a golden door and he pushed it open.

Suddenly, the glow surrounding you changed as the ceiling was now replaced by the starry sky. You glanced at him as he smiled at you sweetly.

"You wanted to see the fountain and I'm a man of my word, darling." He said, intertwining your hand with his he guided you through the hallway, the balcony coming into your sight as you came to a halt.

You were stunned as you walked deeper into the balcony. The fountain was set in the middle of it, made with white marbles and on top was a skillfully crafted statue of cupid as water sprinkle down from his arrow. The water glinted in the moonlight as you rushed towards it and sat on the edge of the fountain. Looking to your side, the entire garden was in front of your eyes. The balcony was large, but deserted, no one was there beside you and him. You also weren't able to find it when you traversed the venue. It felt like a secret.

You glanced at him as he gazed at you with affection. "How do you know about this? It feels like something only the prince would know." Since it was one of many hotels the prince's family owned for generations.

"Because I'm the prince." He said and your heart stopped. No, that can't be. But to your absolute horror, he removed his mask and yes, it was him as he walked towards you. He sat beside you and covered your hands with his but you were frozen in place. The shock had paralyzed your body, mind and soul.

"I like you, I hosted a masquerade party to let people be themselves behind their mask. And you're the most authentic girl I've met this night. Your shyness didn't feel forced and your boldness wasn't fake. It's like you had no qualms for impressing anyone and that's what I wanted. You're witty, you seem hard working, you're beautiful. I know it's just one interaction but you are everything I was looking for and I promise to put effort into our relationship. So, will you marry me?"

His last words pounded in your ears. No, you couldn't do this. You couldn't trick someone but you couldn't refuse him either. What if he became angry and came after you? What if he came after Rose? You should have never danced with him.

"I-I need to go." You stumbled away from him, your hands trembling over the railing. You needed to get out of there, fast.

"But why?" He asked, bewildered and stood up.

The balcony was big enough that you could rush past him and he wouldn't be able to catch you. Hopefully, his size wouldn't ruin your escape plan. You took a deep breath and braced yourself for a run. "Because my mother told me to come before midnight and I think I'm already late. I should be get going. Thank you for the good time." You blabbered and marched past him and into the hallway.

"No, wait." He shouted and the thumping of his shoes reverberated in the hallway.

You gulped as you ran along the hallway. You breathed a sigh of relief when the golden door emerged ahead of you. You shoved it open and sprinted down the wide and umber colored stairs. The unusually well-lit staircase helped you skid down faster as your dress bellowed behind you.

However, he wasn't far away as his yells for you to stop made you heave in panic and he felt much closer than he actually was.

Thankfully, the lights reduced as you entered the main hall. You quickly darted into the crowd, making him loose you.

"Excuse me."

"please, let me go."

"I'm sorry, can you step aside?"

You said hundreds of times as you weaved through the crowd, checking your surroundings for him once in a while.

Soon, the crowd cleared out as the entrance door appeared in front of you. You dashed out the door and climbed down the golden steps. Your pace had slowed down, assuming you were out of danger when:

"Close the gates." His thunderous command boomed in your ears, making your blood ran cold.

Your eyes widened in fear as the guards began shutting the gates. You regained your ferocity and even pushed your body's limits as you scurried towards the exit, heart in your throat as the gates came inward by each passing second.

You yelped as you slide outside from a small spacing left before the gates fully closed. You stumbled forward as the gates thudded shut behind you just after a moment you got out.

You pulled open the car door and fall inside it. Your body shaking due to adrenaline as the driver wordlessly started the car and you sighed in relief.

However, just before the car sped off, you caught a glimpse of him staring at the recouping car.

He saw the car. He knows the name. He would come for Rose, thinking it was you. The exact thing you didn't want to happen. SHIT.

[novalunosiss]

It’s almost been 24 hours since vol 2 came out and I’m still super pissed off, so here’s a list of everything wrong in volume 2.

Byler. Queerbait of the fucking century??? I would’ve been significantly less upset if they hadn’t advertised/marketed it so hard during pride month. And making the queer kid the sad gay vessel through which the straight couple thrives is nothing short of homophobic.

The deaths. They advertised this season as being particularly dangerous/full of death, which was a straight up lie. The only people who died were either antagonists or minor background characters, with the exception of Eddie (though it was extremely obvious from the start that he was canon fodder, much like Bob- despite how much I liked Eddie’s character, there was never a doubt in my mind that he wasn’t going to die.)

Max’s “death”. So I know I just did a section on the deaths but this one pissed me off so much I had to give it it’s own seperate section. Max’s “death” was a total copout. Don’t get me wrong, I love her character. But I wish she did die. Having someone die and be brought back to life is such a terrible, cliche, overused trope. It’s too safe of a choice. Where is the danger? I want to actually be scared that the characters I love might not make it out alive. And since when could El bring people back to life? That’s never been explored in the show before, making it completely out of place and confusing when watching the scene. Having Max die would’ve been impactful, and shown to the audience that any of the characters can die, not just new ones, or unimportant background ones. It would’ve raised the stakes! The scene where she “died” was heartbreaking and powerful, but then they negated that by bringing her back to life, rendering the scene pointless. They either should’ve actually genuinely killed her, or not have her “die” at all. Having that “in-between” sort of situation where she technically died, but came back to life (albeit in a coma) was super flaky, and imo, bad writing.

Speaking of bad writing, the time skip! This is genuinely one of the worst things I’ve seen implemented in the show. I generally don’t like time skips anyway, but at least the one at the end of s3 made sense. The main drama of that season was resolved, and they needed to show the Byers moving away. The time skip this season, however, made 0 fucking sense. The drama hadn’t been resolved, it just skipped like half of the climax and the entirety of the falling action, and went straight to the resolution (which wasn’t even a resolution at all). 2 days is a pretty big time skip to implement after skipping half the climax. What happened during those two days??? It was confusing as fuck, and none of the characters actions/behaviour during the “resolution” phase of the story made sense, maybe with the exception of Dustin and Lucas, who were shown to be grieving unlike almost everyone else. You’re telling me that Nancy, Robin and Steve just fought fucking Vecna, almost died, and some of their friends did die (if you count Max) and two days later they’re happily packing up a bunch of old belongings to donate, without a care in the world? And during that scene, there seemed to be little to no concern about Mike’s whereabouts from the entire Wheeler family until he actually showed up. They mentioned they’d been trying to contact them for days, but nothing about their demeanour beforehand implied concern.

The monologue. Need I even say more? It was cheesy, cringey, and made no narrative sense. The reasoning Mike gave for being unable to tell El he loved her was one of the stupidest reasons I’ve seen in media, ever. Where was the “amazing monologue” we were promised by the Duffers? That sure as hell isn’t what I’d call amazing. Finn is a great actor, and he’s done amazing monologues before (*cough cough*, the shed scene) so that isn’t on him, it’s on the shitty script. “I feel like my life first started when I met you in the woods”? Bullshit, and such a cruel thing to say in front of Will, who’s life was literally turned upside down on the exact same day. “I loved you since the moment I saw you”? Love at first sight is a cringey trope. Mike was 12 when he first met Eleven. He probably didn’t even know the meaning of love, especially when you take a look at how dysfunctional his parents marriage is/Nancy, his older sisters relationship at the time was. Also, how can he say he loved her the moment he saw her when he spent most of s1 trying to get rid of her (saying he was going to send her back to pennhurst) and calling her a “weapon”? El could’ve found strength to beat Vecna in something far more significant than a teenage boy telling her he loves her, but noooo.

Will’s painting. I really feel like I don’t have to elaborate on this one. It just fucking sucked. They built it up like it was going to be some really important declaration of love from Will to Mike, only to have it be used to help further Mileven. Also the actual painting was ass, and all the fan theories about it were way better and more meaningful. (Like the idea we all had of the swingset where Mike and Will first met, or even just a painting of the two of them as their D&D characters, but SEPERATE from the rest of the group so it was actually obvious what the painting meant.)

The upside down thing with Henry?? I don’t even know what’s going on there. It was super confusing. Is the mind flayer actually Henry? Did El create the upside down or was it there before? Why did it look like that when Henry first got sent there, but looks like Hawkins now? I know they’ll likely answer these questions next season, but there’s just too many questions and knowing now how shit the duffers are at writing, I doubt they’ll all be answered satisfactorily.

The terrible character development. By that, I mean that there was none. Literally no characters had any development. They were all exactly the same as they were at the start of the season. El is still dependent on Mike/isn’t her own person. Mike is still a fucking asshole who treats his friends like shit. Will is still in the closet and hiding his true feelings from everyone around him. Nancy and Jonathan are still lying to each other. Steve is still pining after Nancy. Robin is still pining after Vickie. I could go on and on.

The Duffers hate minorities + poor people. Will and Robin, the two queer characters, don’t get well rounded love interests like all of the straight characters, and Will in particular is made to suffer constantly. Lucas and Erica, the two black characters, are both physically assaulted. Max and Eddie, the two poorest characters, who are living in a trailer park, fucking die. (from @hellfireds) Oh, also? The Duffers filmed parts of s4 in a fucking Nazi prison, where Jewish people were held against their wills and killed. (from @artmuseumsandoldbooks)

I’m going to keep updating this list as I think of more things that are wrong with vol 2. There’s already so many things I could add if I decided to include the shit wrong with vol 1 as well, but vol 2 was significantly worse so I’m just gonna stick to that. Feel free to suggest anything else I should add to the list

In conclusion, FUCK THE DUFFERS