#so now it's tumblr's turn to hear my nonsense.

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

*meanwhile, in the Underworld* Polites: Eurylochus, back so soon? And...there's the rest of your crew. And by the gods, what happened to you? Eurylochus, who is sick of thematically-significant reprises: >:(

[revelboo]

Heyo!

I just binge-read all 77 chapters of Everything Is Alright on AO3 (PHENOMENAL WRITING BTW!!) and while looking for more Starscream/reader here on Tumblr, I found your blog with the master post linking to the Tumblr version of the same fic. However, when I checked it out, I noticed there was some stuff in the first chapter here that wasn't in the first chapter on AO3.

I also noticed that the last update on AO3 was around the same time as the first full chapter post on Tumblr.

So I'm curious: is the Tumblr version of Everything Is Alright a more fleshed out continuity of the AO3 version?

I will 100% be devouring it if that's the case bc I genuinely think it's my favorite Starscream/reader I've read.

I’m more active over here and I tend to forget the AO3, honestly. It mostly serves as my backup

Everything Is Alright Pt 140

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Watching Starscream flare his wings aggressively when Soundwave tries to reach for you, and the way you frown up at the Seeker, Megatron vents tiredly. Still unsure how exactly he got roped into whatever this nonsense is. Why he hadn’t been able to just watch you die in his hands. True, he enjoys your quick temper and indignation that seems reserved for only him. Your fire and that you feel comfortable enough to argue with him when most of his followers simply agree with him, never bothering to question him to his face. Well, except for Starscream’s muttered snark when the Seeker thinks he can’t hear him.

• Servos flexing, Soundwave grabs Starscream by the wrist, fully aware of the Seeker’s petty intention to keep you away from him just because he’s frustrated that you’re sparked and it’s not his. “No,” he growls, field flaring aggressively and the Seeker hesitates. And you shudder like you can feel it brushing against you, too. Giving him pause before he reaches out with his other hand to brush a servo against your cheek. Searching and finding your own weak field. How had he not noticed it before? Or is it because of the spark bond? The spark itself?

• Aware of them both, it’s like you can feel Starscream and Soundwave’s annoyance crackling over you, making your skin prickle. Making you uneasy. And Soundwave’s head tips, watching as you lay a hand on his servo. He knows you can feel whatever this is. You’re sure of it. Have no idea what this new alien weirdness is, but it’s making you oddly anxious and then just like that, Soundwave is calm and it’s not so bad. No longer overwhelmed by them. “What is that?”

• “EM field,” Soundwave murmurs and Starscream stiffens. Hadn’t realized you could pick up on that and he grimaces realizing you can definitely feel his hostility toward Soundwave if you can. Forcing it down, he vents softly and you look up at him, offering him a little smile. “Possibly from the excess bonds or the new spark,” Soundwave adds, servo sliding lazily against your cheek. Because they’re in uncharted territory, figuring things out by trial and error. Wings flaring out slightly when Megatron wanders closer to study you, your shoulders hunch as his field becomes anxious at the warlord’s nearness to you.

• Smiling lazily down at you as your expression becomes wary, Megatron reaches to pick you up and both of your other mates stiffen. Starscream hissing at him, but not making a move to try and take you back, probably afraid of accidentally hurting you. “Now that I’m sure I can’t accidentally spark you, I think I should claim what’s mine,” he growls, enjoying the way the Seeker bares his denta. “After all, you’re my mate, too.” Turning and letting himself out of the habsuite to head toward his own, he rumbles a laugh as you scowl up at him. ‘You just can’t help tormenting him, can you?’ You ask meaning Starscream and he rubs a servo against your jaw. “Trust me, pet. He deserves much worse.”

Previous

Next

[whosmybf]

Sleepy

Rodrick heffley X F!reader

Wc:369

It’s Rodrick and y/n’s first sleepover

The sound of Rodrick's van honking outside my house instantly excites me. Tonight is our first-ever sleepover. I grab my bright pink duffle bag and bound down the stairs, where I find my mom in the hallway giving me a concerned look.

"Y/n, you be careful. I don’t want you getting into any nonsense," she advises.

I nod, blow her a kiss, and then smile at my dad who's practically glaring at the beat-up van with 'Löded Diper' amateurly spray painted across it.

I leave the house, shivering in the cold air, and start walking towards the van. Rodrick jumps out at the last minute, eagerly opening the door for me before wrapping his arms around me, then hopping back in.

I step into the van and chuckle at his hurried behavior.

"What's got you in such a hurry, Roddy?" I ask.

"You know your dad creeps me out," he admits as he steps into the car and leans over to give me a quick kiss, letting out a contented sigh.

"Mhmm. I missed you so much," he murmurs.

"Did you miss me or just my lips?" I ask playfully.

"Both," he answers, giving me a sly smile and booping my nose before starting up the van.

Rodrick practically drags me into his house. When we get inside, I try to greet his mom and Greg, but Rodrick is pulling my hand up the stairs, so I just give them a sorry smile and follow him. Once we're in his room, he gives me a hopeful smile.

"So, what now?" he asks.

"I don't know, Rodrick. What do you wanna do?"

He sits down on the edge of his bed.

"How 'bout we put on a movie or something?"

And that's exactly what we do. He selects some obscure emo film, and I lie down next to him, resting my head on his chest.

Eventually, the air grows heavy with sleepiness, and the movie loses its appeal. I sit up and look at Rodrick, paying close attention to his expressive eyes and fluffy eyebrows.

"Hey, can I sit here?" I ask, straddling his stomach.

"Mhmm," he says, his hands instinctively finding my waist and toying with my pajama pants from Victoria's Secret. I lean in close, running my thumb over one of his eyebrows, watching the arch in awe.

"You have great eyebrows, Roddy," I say with a touch of amusement.

He chuckles, his hands moving up to my stomach, giving me a gentle squeeze.

I can tell he's getting tired, and I am too. I run my fingers over his eyelids, gently coaxing them closed. I trace over his nose and brow bone, until after a few minutes, I hear his breathing soften. He's asleep, and so should I be. I reach to turn off the light and lay my head down on his chest, listening to the comforting rhythm of his heart.

A/n: this is my first fic on tumblr, please don’t bully me and please request. I will probably write for Rodrick, jersey shore, shameless, and umbrella academy, but I’m open to requests on anyone

[hexy-lynesdein]

I talked about this scene of Agatha recruiting Lilia in my priv, twitter acc back then but somehow I felt the need to bring it up again (and this time on Tumblr) since not enough people are talking about this.

I think we all, as a society, moved on wayyyyyy too fast from this scene.

Agatha lowkey didn't fw divination because she couldn't cheat her way through it. The way her face dawned in realization in each word that Lilia uttered to her.. I could almost see the thought process in her head, it's almost comical (do ignore the pict quality people 🙏🏻).

Agatha is so skeptical of Lilia at first, she's like “Okay, let's hear what other nonsense this old kooky witch has to say”. Only for Lilia to read her like an open book. And Agatha has only been standing and fucking around in her shop for like.. what? Ten minutes? And you mean to tell her this bitch already caught up on what it is that she was about to do? Bonkers!

“It's not the first time your witch kin betrayed you. But you survive, in a way few do. In fact, it's why you're here. And I am not interested.”

Her expression. These are the faces of a woman who's impressed, annoyed, pissed, and turned on by such a display of power and skill for a short amount of time. And dare I say that Agatha felt almost... a pity? Later on, for Lilia. Not because of her seeing Lilia screaming like a madman when she was in her kitchen. But rather because she knew what she was about to do. She is going to take Lilia's power, in one way or another. And that means she's going to kill her fellow centuries old, exceptional and magnificent witch. And it's a shame, really.

And on a separate note, can we also talk about the tension that Agatha and Lilia have in that scene? It screams history to me, like come on now. The show of push and pull, them going “Oh so that's how it is? Fine, let's play your game��, both witches knowing exactly what and who the other is, but the information never once scaring them and piqued their interest instead. I might be reading too deep into these but honestly for such a brief meet up, these two have so many things going on — it's kinda insane.

[uyuartik]

I'm Starving, Darling (modern obi wan kenobi x reader)

tags: modern!obi wan, teeth rotting fluff, suggestive themes, mention of anakin and satine, this is basically my love letter to the perfection that is obi wan, yes i used a hozier title sue me, y'all are so lucky that this was before "too sweet"

summary: Obi Wan wakes you up from an unplanned nap.

a/n: back dated fic now on tumblr | link to ao3

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

enjoy!!!

word count: 1078

You wake up to the feeling of the bed dipping and you hear him, seeing him. “Time to wake up, love.”

Bed? When did you even go to bed? Have you fallen asleep? Why does everything look so bright and so orange?

His voice doesn’t help you to establish a sense of reality, prolonging your stay in the dreamland. It is so deep and rich, filled with sweetness, and so close to your ear. You can practically feel the words touching your skin.

Then again, the same sweetness pulls you back to the world, for how could you deny his wishes? Your eyes flutter at the warm rays that slither from the window, desperately fighting back to be closed. It must be sunset, your mind somehow gathers as the struggle continues. Hi, you want to say back, how long has it been.

It remains as a thought once you see his face, illuminated by the golden hour of the day.

Every word dies in the tip of your tongue as you get to see him properly, pupils adjusting to the light. How could you ask him anything, when he looked this angelic under the afternoon sky? A face straight out of paintings. The shadow of his beard only enhances the contours of his prominent cheekbones, and does nothing the hide his plush lips, the corners of it humorously twisted upwards. Even the unruly piece of hair that hangs right in front of his eyes takes nothing away from his perfect image, and above all, his brilliant blue eyes, gazing at you with all the adoration in the world. In older times, he would’ve been titled a prince, capturing every heart in the kingdom (and even beyond), and breaking it all, except one. Yet, here we were, hovering over you, dedicated to making his love known from the moment you wake up to the moment you go back to sleep. This is what heaven must be like, and nothing else, you conclude. How did you get so lucky?

Oh, and lucky you were indeed, and devastatingly patient. Not like you had any other choice, you knew from the moment you met him that he would be the one, and only one. His charm had worked too well on you, and every kind gesture, every mischievous one-liner amplified your crush, which had turned into pure love in no time. Yet, you never had to courage to confess your feelings. When you found it though, the predicament had transformed into a timing problem. You didn’t feel okay with bringing up this subject when he was dealing with heavy issues; Satine’s death, Anakin’s betrayal… You couldn’t leave him alone, and you couldn’t stay too close in fear of somehow feeding your selfish compulsions. You still remember how your hands shook as you texted back your reply to his proposal for a date. That was the last time you cried out of happiness, because Obi Wan took great care not to make you cry, even when he filled your soul with joy.

You blush as his hand removes stray hairs from your face, oh god, you must be an absolute mess right now, with puffy cheeks and a bird’s nest on top of your head, and turn red as his hand travels to your chin, kindly pushing your mouth close with a quiet laugh.

Great. You were literally ogling him with your jaw hanging wide.

You bite the inside of your lip, fighting hard not to hide behind your palms. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

His eyebrows furrow, finding your need for an apology nonsense. “You seemed like you needed it.”

It is your time to challenge his words, scrunching your face. You weren’t even tired, just lazy enough to pass out.

“Besides, you look so cute when you’re sleeping.”

This one actually has your head shaking side to side, yet his words find a way into the depths of your chest, like a thousand butterflies fly in your insides, their wings tickling your soul.

You look out of the window for a second, trying to gather your wits. “What time is it?”

He lowers himself further, resting his weight on his elbow. As your eyes meet again, he dips enough to let your lips touch, stealing a small kiss. Your hand is too slow to bury itself in his hair, but you continue to do so, caressing his soft strands. He releases a content hum, and answers. “19.00.”

Fuck. You two usually have dinners earlier than this hour, and you feel guilty about this unnecessary nap, knowing how much he loves to enjoy the meal with you. And not only the meal, the preparation process, and setting the table… It is the time you talk about your days, catching up on each other's lives and occasionally, gossiping.  Yes, he loved his tea, and you loved the subtle color on his cheeks whenever he got too self-aware while doing it. “Have you eaten?”

“No, I waited for you.”

“Obi Wan…” You whine, remorse settling in even more. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but his stomach decides to take on the role, the grumble echoing in the silent room. You are horrified to hear that, yet his chuckle encompasses the atmosphere, his head thrown back, then landing in the crook of your neck, his battle to stay upright lost.

One hand tries to push him off of your body, the other landing against the sheets to pull yourself up to your feet. He defies all attempts as he keeps laughing. His arm envelops your waist, pressing your bodies closer. You can feel him vibrating, and his nose brushes up against your skin, calling the butterflies back when you hear him inhaling your scent.

“That’s why I am waking you up,” he wanted to say, before getting distracted by your sweet essence. “You smell so good.” He murmurs, the sound barely meaningful by the time it reaches your ears. You don’t know how to answer, and he continues to rub his face against your neck, the faint abrasion from his beard all but welcomed in your eyes. “And you are so warm.” He wraps his arm around you even tighter and places a kiss wherever he can reach, then another, then another, each one sultrier than the last.

“Come on, Obi Wan.” You usher, your voice shaky. “You are hungry.”

“Starving,” He corrects you. “Though, not for dinner.”

[briar-ffxiv]

Hate to do this, but if anyone can help

TL: DR - Due to a lot of financial strain this year and moving before we planned to with little notice, my cats and my family don't have money for groceries for the next few months. We just need to make it to January and we've been trying hard, eating as cheap as possible, not going out, no extra services, etc. Heck, I only have FFXIV because a friend was nice enough to help.

But now, we're out of money and next paycheck once we cover rent and bills, we'll have less than $30. And unfortunately, we need to eat.

So if anyone can help, I'd appreciate it. Anything. Thank you. <3

Below the read-more are the longer details. If anyone doesn't mind boosting or something, I'd be grateful.

More Details:

Basically, due to having to move at least a year sooner than expected with less than 60 days' notice, we've used up every bit of savings and resources we have. Plus, due to some other financial nonsense, including the past roommates being terrible and my spouse's work using loopholes to avoid paying him overtime, we're finally having a really rough time.

We can just cover rent and the minimal bills. Several months ago, we turned off anything we didn't completely need. That includes streaming services, games, and what have you. Heck, we wouldn't have kept on the internet if my spouse didn't need it for work.

We were just trying to hold on until New Year. The New Year means a mandatory raise for my spouse and his boss has promised it's a good one (due to several years of him getting the minimum under his previous boss who was fired for several reasons). So we've been just trying to make it and just have a few months left.

Unfortunately, with just a few months to go, we've basically maxed out all we can. The next step is trying to rehome my cats to remove the cost of maintaining them, although I hate to do it. I really don't want to. Pretty much every cat I have, I either rescued and/or raised from birth. But I'm certainly not going to let them starve or suffer.

I have been trying for months to get a job, but due to personal things and limited options (only one car with limited gas, etc.), I haven't been able to find anything. I keep sending out forms and not hearing much. Due to gas prices and such, I can't even do UberEats or Doordash or something. I'm at a loss and I feel completely useless in trying to help my spouse at the moment.

I really hate asking. My little Tumblr is just cute stuff with my character, aesthetics, and trying to be positive. I'm just really desperate because I don't know what else to do.

We've looked into state help, but I live in Texas and their "poverty line" is absolutely ridiculous. My spouse makes "too much" for us to get the benefits of any kind of help, even temporarily. Due to the crappy roommates, our credit isn't great and we're already struggling to pay off things so getting a loan is pretty much impossible.

I don't really have any skills that people would pay for commissions for. I'd be happy to do writing commissions or something, but I've never had much luck with that.

So, yeah, I just...I really need some help getting through the next 60 days or so. So if you've read all this, thank you. If you reblog, thank you. If you feel like giving anything, thank you. Even if it's just kind thoughts, I appreciate it so much.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart,

Bard

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check

Part 13: No Sleep Til Hawkins

Part 13, Also on Ao3 here and tumblr here

Billy gives up on sleep around 3 am. He’s pretty sure his will to pretend he’s asleep tires out just about the same time as Munson’s girlfriend because it’s silent for once.

He rolls on his side, watching Steve sleep. Steve had babbled nervously right up to the point of sleep and past it, his nonsense mumbles finally petering out.

He knows Steve is nervous, but for fuck’s sake, so is he. At least Steve isn’t dealing with heartbreak on top of that.

Billy sits up and rubs his eyes, conceding defeat. There’s no way he’s going to get any sleep, so he might as well be productive.

He slides out of bed and grabs his backpack before quietly slipping out. It’s not really due for a few days but he has an American Lit paper and it beats lying there in the dark ignoring screams and counting all the tiny fractures in his heart.

The house is quiet. Some of the brothers haven’t even come home from the parties. Billy is hoping when they do they’ll all head up to bed and ignore him in the lounge.

He doesn’t want to see anybody when it feels like he’s lived several lives since this morning. At this point he’s just feral, hardly human. It hurts, the ache in his chest. At the same time though, there’s such a bittersweet relief. Steve knows, and what’s more, Billy wasn’t crazy. They do have chemistry, even if Steve can’t see it.

But he can’t keep turning it around in his head, especially while he’s still tipsy. He has to get out of this headspace.

On the way to the lounge he decides to swing by the kitchens for a snack and maybe a gatorade. The cooks are seasoned frat professionals and they tend to have at least a few things prepared Saturday night in advance. Sometimes it’s overly healthy, but that works for him.

Billy flips on the light and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees what looks like a black cloaked figure. Christ, maybe he’s dreaming.

The figure turns from where it’s hunched over a bowl of bananas, mouth full.

“Christ, Munson,” Billy drops his backpack and covers his face with his hands. “I thought you were the fuckin’ hat man.”

Munson smiles around his banana, “So’ry.”

Billy lets his shoulders fall, “No worries. Though I wish you would actually lay off the potassium. Christ, my ears would thank you for a cramp some nights.”

“Why?”

“Because, man… we gotta sleep sometimes,” Billy rolls his eyes and flops down in the seat next to Munson’s.

Eddie turns beet red. “You… can hear us?”

Billy remembers too late that he and Steve had more or less agreed to not talk about Munson’s girlfriend. Argyle had been weirdly adamant about leaving him be. ‘Don’t rush the dude, that’s just not your business,’ were Argyle’s exact words.

“Whoops,” Billy cringes a bit. “But… I mean come on, man. Your girlfriend screams like she’s getting murdered. And it’s almost every night. Of course we noticed.”

Munson lets out a noise like a rat caught in a trap and hunches into the collar of his fluffy black robe. He looks chalky pale, like he got caught by a cop.

“And I mean, hey, good on you, dude. Like I’m pretty sure you’re having the kind of sex only lesbians have.” Then Billy remembers Carver and nervousness creeps in. “Not that… jeez, not in like a gross homophobic way.”

“Lesbians?” Munsons squeezes the remaining banana in his hands into a pulp.

“Christ.” Billy gives up and sags against the counter. “It’s been a really weird night, man. I just… I was just trying to make a joke about your girlfriend. Nothing weird.”

Munson blinks with those big brown doe eyes. “My girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but I really meant no offense by it, I swear.” Billy held up his hands.

Munson stares at him a beat, and then he lets out the tiniest nervous giggle. “Girlfriend.”

Then he full on laughs, throwing his head back.

“Oh, or… not girlfriend?” Billy frowns. “I guess.”

Munson still laughs, harder and more full bodied.

“Well now this is just mean, Munson. If this is how you treat a lady, I’ll go up there and steal her for myself.” Billy licks his lower lip.

Munson’s hand shoots out and he grabs Billy, smearing bananas all over Billy’s arm. “Do. Not.”

Billy winces, yanking his arm away, and reaches for a paper towel to wipe his hand off.

“She’s like… really classy.” Munson says sheepishly. “She’d be mortified you heard her in my room. Please don’t.”

“I wasn’t really gonna wake a chick up who you left in bed.” Billy rolls his eyes. “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

Munson shrugs. “Same kind as me, that’s why I don’t want you to piss her off. I’m serious.”

Billy tosses the slimy paper towel on the counter and crosses his arms. “So she’s classy. What is she? Tri Delt?”

Munson sighs. “No.”

“Zeta?”

“No!”

“Don’t tell me she’s one of your theater friends?” Billy frowns.

“Hargrove, stop.”

“Does Eden know her? I bet she-”

Munson grabs at him again, looking wild. “Hargrove, listen. Don’t talk to anyone about this, ok?” She’s like… not that kind of girl. She’s classy, ok? Rich and like… going places. She doesn’t want this. You haven’t told anyone already, have you?”

“No. I mean, Steve knows, obviously. And honestly I would ask Patrick and Matt across the hall. I assume Carver.” Billy shrugs with one shoulder. “Argyle told us to, like, protect your privacy or whatever?”

Eddie just nodded vaguely, looking only marginally less unhinged. His hair was mussed, and there was a rapidly developing hickey high on his chest.

“What’s with all the secrecy, anyway?” Billy gasped, and then grinned, “Is she a professor?”

“No, Jesus. She’s just… way the fuck out of my league. Like stratospherically out of my league.” Munson shakes his head and lets go of Billy’s shoulder.

“How stratospheric?”

“Super stratospheric. Like… Buzz Aldrin couldn’t land her.”

Billy whistled. “I have to know.”

Munson sighs. “Look, I’m eating bananas at 3 am. I’m a fucking loser. She’s sleeping to get to her 8 am and she has like a 4.5 GPA and her parents paid for a room in the library or something like that. I can’t talk about it because I’m just… a pressure reliever.”

Billy raises his brows.

Munson doesn’t miss the implication. “Yeah pretty much. I guess I just have slightly more functions than a vibrator.”

Billy grabs a banana for himself, because all the banana talk was making him hungry. “But you’ve been going on like a year now.”

“Ten months, two and a half weeks, three days and well… three hours.”

Billy tries to raise his brows even more but he doesn’t have any room.

Munson leans against the counter and rubs the back of his neck. “Being in l-love with her is one of my many functions.”

Billy almost feels like he could cry. Which is stupid. It’s silly. “That’s sad as fuck, dude.”

Munson sighs, slumping a little more. “Yeah, but what are you gonna do?”

“I dunno what you’re gonna do. I’m gonna sympathize.” Billy says.

“You too?”

“Yeah. At least you’re actually fucking your girl.” Billy mutters.

Eddie shakes his head, hair flopping. “Yeah. Been there too, big time.”

Billy peels his banana, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Same girl, too,” Munson says with a sad little flop of his bangs. “Got me wrapped around my finger since… God. Forever.”

Billy shook his head. “Damn. You, me, and Carver gotta go out sometime.”

“C-Carver?”

Billy nods. “Yeah. He was just telling me about his dating troubles. I’m sure you’ve heard at least some of it.”

“Oh. Right.” Munson nods back almost absently, looking kind of pale again.

“But, hey. You’re fucking your dream girl!” Billy pats Munson’s shoulder uncertainly. “Bring her a banana! Woo her ass, I dunno. She’s gotta be into you at least a little.”

“You think?” Munson looks so innocent like Billy hasn’t heard him do the least classy things ever to his classy girl.

“Your one year anniversary is coming up? I dunno. Don’t take advice from me, I don’t notice anything, apparently.” Billy sighs, leaning forward on his elbows and taking a bite. “It’s been a really weird fuckin’ night, so seriously don’t take my advice.”

Eddie nods slightly, frowning in confusion.

Billy wants to burst into tears or something like that. He thought telling Steve would just end the world, and now the world is apparently still spinning. Munson’s in tragic love too.

Coming out once doesn’t make coming out again any easier. So he resists the impulse to dump the whole sordid tale on Munson, even if he kind of wants to. Because Steve just came out. Billy can’t ruin this time with his own stupid hopeless feelings.

So instead he takes another bite and gets up to grab a gatorade from the fridge, shoving it into the pocket of his sweat shorts.

“Sorry, man, I’m tired. Just rambling. If you ever want to talk about your girl, I’m here for ya, ok?” Billy says.

“Thanks. Uh… you too. You know, if you ever…” Munson peters out, gesturing weakly.

Billy cackles and it comes out way too forced, but he commits to it anyway. “Well, you know me. I have 99 bitches but not one’s a problem.”

Eddie laughs a little, toying with the messy banana peel nervously.

Billy pats Munson on the shoulder and walks back to his room without a second thought, fully leaving his backpack behind. He was supposed to go downstairs.

But Steve is asleep so peacefully. Billy stands at the door and just stares. Steve always sleeps splayed out like a starfish, one of his feet dangling over the side of the bed. Tonight he has his mouth open, drooling slightly.

Billy has kissed that mouth. He wishes he could go back in time and slow that moment down forever.

Steve was still the worst person to fall in love with, the most unforgivable. And now it would be even harder because Steve had said it so strongly tonight. They would only ever be friends.

Billy wants so badly for anything to be different. He wishes suddenly he’d gone to any other school, anywhere else on earth. He wants to be in Eddie’s place because surely it would be better to be something than nothing at all.

Or is this better. Maybe now he can finally accept-

“B’lly?” Steve still has his eyes closed. “Close th’ door.”

Billy freezes for a moment, before shutting the door gently, plunging the room back into semi-darkness.

By the light of the streetlamp outside and the Frat’s shitty old alarm clock, he can just make out Steve scooting over and raising the blankets on his bed.

“C’mon,” He says.

Billy thinks of what Munson said as he crawls in next to Steve. He tosses the gatorade across the room and settles next to that warm body he knows all too well. Steve pulls up the fuzzy blanket that his mom bought him for Hanukkah last year, the one that smells like weed and Steve. The bed feels scorching hot, and Steve’s long limbs immediately lash around Billy, holding him with the perfect tightness. Steve presses his chest to Billy’s back and sighs, his minty-beer breath brushing the back of Billy’s neck. Billy’s skin prickles everywhere they touch, with almost the same sting as embarrassment.

That this is just one of his many functions. That in some ways he should let go, but he was meant to love Steve like this. Maybe he couldn’t have helped it.

Steve hums. “Promise. N’thing will change, right? We won’t be weird?”

Billy feels like he’s shattered, held together by Steve’s limbs, squeezing tight.

“Yeah,” He says, ignoring the tears that get squeezed free.

[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

ᵤₙfₒᵣₜᵤₙₐₜₑₗy ₛₘᵢₜₜₑₙ ₍ₘₐfᵢₐ bₒₛₛ! Gₒⱼₒ ₓ ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ₎

Summary: Life leads you to treacherous roads after deciding to enter the dangerous life you knew well not to follow.Having gojo by your side inviting you deeper and deeper into all that’s wrong in the world, inciting you to be selfish and carefree wasn’t supposed to be to your liking, so why do you shiver with adrenaline every time he decides to be the devil on your shoulder?

Contents: Mafia boss gojo x secretary reader.(civilian au ig)

-Secret crush Gojo!

-Yandere Gojo

Gojo being an egocentric bitch! Wealthy gojo! X no nonsense reader.

Warnings: trigger warning if you’re not interested in anything mafia related. The narration of this story is inspired by Latin and Asian mafia. Violence and use of blood!

Wc:1.8k

🏷:@busyreader17 @starlight5cat @xavlyzn

(Idk If I was supposed to tag y’all in the new chapter, sorry if it bothers you but I’m kinda new to this whole fanfic tumblr thing 🙈🫶🏻)

Chapter 4

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As the busy Shanghai nightlife contrasted your gloominess with its vibrant lights and loud people, you allowed your anger to fuel your fast-paced steps to lead you to your destination.

What destination exactly?

Well…

You didn’t know just yet.

Before you could notice you got lost in the beautiful chaos that is this city, a city where you know no one and all you have on yourself is your cellphone. As you stood still thinking about what your next move should be, then you suddenly smiled at yourself as you remembered you somehow managed to lose that long-legged freak about two blocks ago.

That peace is shortly interrupted as you feel a cold finger touch your shoulder from the Back.

-“I Know I have made a mistake and I’ll accept any punishment that doesn’t include you leaving my side. That one is the most unbearable of them all.”-He muttered as he looked down unable to face your distraught expression.-“Plus did you really think you’d lose me after springing some blocks?”- He said as he returned his gaze to yours.-“ I always come back you know. And for you specifically, I’ll even crawl back if it’s necessary.”

To you it sounded like a joke but you would be surprised if you knew what he was capable of doing for your love.

All you could do was give him a disgusted look as you responded.

-“You make me sick, what’s your fucking problem?! You dare to almost put me and jail and then you show up high and mighty begging for forgiveness?? Why should I forgive you? All you’ve caused me are problems and to your discontent, I’m finally done with all of this.”

He showed a displeased expression as he noticed you didn’t care for his sincere apology, but he wasn’t gonna let this slide so he pulled you into an abandoned alleyway with the hopes that you could talk better.

-“Let go of me! I’m not going anywhere with you.”-you blurted out as you smacked his hand away.

-“Please just hear me out, if you're not content with my apology I’ll let you go.”- He lied through his teeth as he showed you his puppy eyes.He was putting his life on the line with this acting gig , he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you decided to abandon him.

You glare at him in a distrusting matter, but as you recall he’s never been dishonest right up to this moment. So you lower your claws and follow him to where he wants to go.

-“If I’m being honest with you I’m not used to treating normal people like you, I’m used to treating thugs who wouldn’t give a damn if they lost everything in a second. So I could say that I did what I did thinking you wouldn’t care for much for it, now l know it’s not an excuse and I’ll have you know that I take full responsibility for my actions and that I-“

Gojo was interrupted during his speech by a rustle at the entrance of the alleyway.

The next thing you know a beer bottle is being thrown next to your head, you can’t help but scream out and duck to the floor trying to process what just happened, your boss turns as he feels for something under his coat, scanning the area for danger.

As the steps, Drew closer a group of 3 tough -looking guys stomped in, each of them playing with a different weapon in their rough scarred hand. As they targeted the two of you with their eyes the tallest who seemed to be the leader ultimately spoke.

-“Finally I catch you two alone, sorry to break up your lover's quarrel but me and that albino bastard have some business to tend to. So I’ll let a fine lady like yourself leave, but you.”- He spat out as he pointed a flick knife directly at gojo.-“But since this cheating mother fucker doesn’t know how to respect my boss’s territory. I guess I’ll have to teach this preppy son of a bitch some respect.”

You looked up at Gojo for some sort of response but all he did was stare at the offender as if he knew something the other party didn’t. As if this confrontation was an opportunity instead of an inconvenience. An opportunity to let go of all of his pent-up frustration, an opportunity to let all his raw, nasty feelings out after caging them up for a gentleman-like facade for your pretty self.

-“3 against one. Your boss’s a bitch for sending you all to do this.”-Gojo said as he looked around for something, as soon as he found what he was looking for his eyes sparkled. He crouched down and cuffed up his charcoal grey suit up to his elbows revealing a tattoed forearm twisted with black and white thorns.

As the tall figure in front of you grasped a long metal tube; he flexed his veins in the dim night light. In your time meeting him you never thought that he had all that ink under those tailored designed suits.

-“Awww how cute gonna defend your girlfriend? If you feel the odds against you; we’ll let her join, we won’t be too hard on her.”-The offender slurred as he looked at your trembling frame, hugging your knees as if you could hide like a ball.

Cold sweat adorned your forehead as you pondered the chances of getting out of this one alive, you couldn’t yell out for help or call trusty Geto without the gangster knowing. All you could do was pray that Gojo could land a hard punch and that your quivering knees wouldn’t give up on you if you managed to run away.

Next, their leader clenched his sticknife firmly in his hand as he launched forward at Gojo, but to your surprise, your boss swung back the metal stick as if it was a baseball bat that then struck the poor man’s head; his head bounced at impact, the force of the hit forcing his body to slum against the brick wall.

-“Gojo!”-You yelled out in horror with the hopes that all this nightmare and suffering would end in a second.

-“Sorry baby, please turn away. Who hits first; hits hardest.”-Grumbled the icy-eyed man as he looked back at you for a split second he wore the biggest smile on his blood-splattered face.

As soon as they saw their leader down the two henchmen tried to attack Gojo but before they could get close enough your knight in rusted armor whacked the pole against oh the guy's stomach causing him to hit the ground in excruciating pain as he grasped his stomach, next thing you know the other guy has his knees shattered as is now sobbing as he clutches his legs, rolling in pain.

You didn’t want this, this isn’t what you had planned, all you wanted to do was explore the city, but before you could continue to lament yourself as you lay there in shock looking at the agonizing figures before you. The noise of the metal stick hitting the ground interrupts you. Slowly your boss starts to get closer and soon you smell the blood reek on his tux.

Before he could say anything you lunged to hug his built torso as you cried into his chest smearing mascara all over the expensive cloth, he felt his heart flutter at the feeling of having you all on him in a disheveled matter. And as soon as he hugged you back, all the chaos was worth it for him. He would beat up as many guys as necessary just so he could sense your small frame quiver under his touch as you looked for solace in him.

And if you were being honest, you hated to admit it but you felt protected and cared as he combed your hair with his slender fingers. Your cheeks blushes as he planted a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

Sniffing his cologne mixed with sweat and blood wasn’t all that bad if he continued to Pat you back with one hand as he swaddled your face with the other. Maybe you were taking advantage of the situation but your heart felt full and warm as he coddled you in his arms.

But as if god heard you and punished you for your thoughts he promptly stepped away to look into your teary eyes and say.

-“C'mon princess, we gotta leave this place.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

It is currently 12 am and you are back at the villa, as you try to comprehend all that just happened, Gojo swipes a warm wet cloth across your face attempting to remove your ruined makeup. The bed sunk under his weight as he carefully tugged your eyelashes under the damp towel to get you as clean as possible as he sat beside you in clean fresh sweat.

Geto stands beside him as the guilt eats him up for not protecting you as he should have.

All he did was run to your rescue as soon as his best friend gave him your location. But in the end, all he felt like was a useless piece of shit, as he stared at your puffy eyes his cell phone rang in his pocket, he then promptly exits the room putting the bowl on the nightstand so he could take the call and not bother you any further.

As your boss notices you start to yawn, he quickly stands up to cover you with a fluffy blanket that is laid at your bed rest.

-“I feel pathetic, You're the one that saved mebut here you are tending to me.”-You mumbled as you looked up at him with doe eyes.

He just grinned and patted your head.

-“I was the one who put you in that mess, so in the end I hope you find forgiveness in your heart for an idiot like me.”- He responded as he scratched his undercut.

You managed to let out a chuckle.

-“You saved my life, I guess we can call it even then.”- Even though it cost you to say that in the end he deserved it. You knew what kind of business you were getting into , and even though he lied to you, he defended you like nobody would. But you still had it crystal clear that is he slipped up again , you would be a goner

His heart melted as those compassionate words left your mouth, he knew he wasn’t worthy of forgiveness. But as you indulged his sins he couldn’t help but love you more than yesterday. He knew he was in debt to you, and it just so happened that he was a man who liked to pay his dues, so he promised to himself that he wouldn’t let anyone including himself hurt you. Even if it meant following you around the world like a shadow, he was willing to make that “sacrifice”.

-“Well after hearing you say that; I guess I can sleep in peace tonight. Goodnight sweet thing.”-He voiced as he rubbed your cheek with his callous thumb.

As he turned to head to the door, your small hand pinched the back of his shirt to his attention. He swiftly turns around and he raises an eyebrow in a playful matter as he waits for you to voice out your need that stopped him from heading to his bedroom.

-“Can you stay here with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

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A/n: omg that was crazy , I tried to write this chapter as realistically as possible since I haven’t been in a gang fight yet but if I am I’ll confirm or deny the readers pov. I hope you guys enjoyed it and if you have any comments or request please let me know it really motivates me to hear back from you guys. Till next week kisses!! 💋🥰♥️ I’ll finish editing the font tomorrow it’s 3am as I’m writing this I’m so sleepy zzzz

[gudfornuthin]

Hello I made a request a while back but you never got to it and that is completely okay! I understand completely being a writer myself. I was wondering if I could make a different request but not sure if you do it? It’s a request for Billy from stranger things?

Idea- Yn and Billy have been together for a few years and Billy survives when he is attacked. Ever since YN has hard time with nightmares but doesn’t tell Billy about it. And YN stays the night at his place and wakes up from a nightmare calling out for Billy and doesn’t see him in bed. Max comes in to trying to calm her down but YN thinks Billy is dead. Billy comes from outside in when he heard loud crying and shouting from his girlfriend. And he holds her telling her he is going nowhere and he is okay.

( Nickname: Baby or Babygirl ) if possible

I hope this isn’t too over barring but if so I completely understand. And won’t be upset if you turn down my request. Thank you for hearing me out my love!

Not going anywhere

Billy Hargrove x reader

A/N: so I’m back into my writing hit! I do apologise anon for taking way too long to do this, and idk if the other request ever came through, as my tumblr says I have three but it’s only showing this one. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and hopefully imma be writing a lot more from now on. Feedback is appreciated :)

The mall was in ruins. The Mind Flayer continued its rampage, smashing anything that got in its way. The group consisting of teens and adults had split up just moments ago, putting their plan into motion and hoping to pull it off. It all came down to this moment, defeating the monster and making it home safe.

Y/N hides behind a turned over table, battered and bruised with an arm that’s most definitely broken. She’s not a hero. She’s not used to this life, dealing with these nonsensical creatures. Her boyfriend and his sister are to blame for that.

Billy wasn’t the asshole play boy everyone claimed him to be. Not since they started dating. He’s soft, and kind, and cares. Sometimes too much. He’d never dreamed of dragging Y/N into this mess, but love does stupid things to a person. And she definitely wasn’t letting him go through all this alone.

Speaking of her boyfriend, she finally hears his shouts not far from her hiding place. She pops her head up slightly, and spots Billy running towards her.

“Baby?” His eyes land on her. “Oh thank god, I was wondering where the hell you were.”

Y/N stands up, moving towards him, wanting nothing more than to hold him tight and never let go. Before she has the chance to reach him, a long arm crashes through the wall, heading directly for Billy. The Mind Flayer. It pierces him in the chest, black sludge spurting from his mouth. Y/N lets out a visceral scream, falling to her knees. She looks into the eyes of her dying boyfriend, knowing there’s nothing she can do to help him.

Arms wrap around Y/N’s waist, pulling her away from the massacre before her. She turns her head, coming face to face with Billy’s sister Max, a sad expression on her face.

“Y/N?”

“He’s dead,” she replies to Max, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve saved him. He’s fucking dead.”

“Y/N please-”

Max’s words fall on deaf ears. “No, I can’t do this.”

“Y/N, you have to wake up.”

“He’s fucking dead!”

“Y/N! Wake. Up!”

Y/N jolts up from her lying position, sweat covering her entire body, breathing heavily. Max sits in front of her, hands on her shoulders. She looks terrified.

Y/N glances to her left, the space next to her empty. She starts to panic again.

“Where’s Billy?”

“Y/N you need to calm down-”

“The Mind Flayer, it got to him.”

Max shakes her head. “Hey, he’s just gone outside to-”

Y/N pulls at her hair, more tears threatening to fall. “No, he’s dead. I just saw him die, and I couldn’t do anything.”

She continues mumbling under her breath, ignoring Max’s pleas, promising her he’s okay. She hugs her stomach, falling on her side and closing her eyes. Max tries soothing the girl, but once again nothing works. There’s only one person who can fix this, and even though Max knows he doesn’t like to be disturbed during his ‘brooding smoke session’, she thinks he’ll let it slide this once. For his girl.

***

Billy stands outside the house, shirtless, with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He’s thought about quitting, having this conversation on the daily with Y/N. She doesn’t mind too much, just hates the smell. He doesn’t smoke indoors anymore, and always has a can of body spray and a pack of mint gums on hand. For her.

He takes a final drag, when Max rushes out the house, almost toppling over him. Her face almost matches her hair, as she grabs his arm and pulls him towards the front door.

“Maxine, do you fucking mind?” He tries not to snap at her as much as he used to, but sometimes it’s hard not to. “I can’t have five minutes of me time?”

Max continues dragging him. “It’s Y/N.”

That catches his attention, as he pushes her hand off his arm and runs into the house, not bothering to ask any questions.

He makes his way to his bedroom, pushing the door open and spotting his girlfriend lying in a curled up ball on the bed, hands on her face and sobs shaking her body. He sits down next to her, hands resting on her back as he lowers his voice just so she can hear.

“Y/N, baby?”

She doesn’t respond, but her breathing slows, acknowledging his words. Billy runs his hands down to her arms, then her face, gently lifting her head. He runs his thumbs over her eyes, and she finally opens them, bloodshot and red.

“Billy?”

He kisses her briefly on the lips. “I’m here baby girl. I’m right here.”

“I thought you’d-” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but Billy can guess where it was going.

“I’m okay, see,” he kisses her again, then her cheeks, then the crown of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As if waking from a trance, Y/N throws herself at Billy, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He hugs her back, his arms snaking around her waist, pressing his face into her hair. They stay there for what seems like hours, both not realising how badly they needed comfort from each other. They were together, and that’s all that mattered.

[kerrikins]

The casting for 4 Minutes, the trailer and the subsequent discourse in the fandom has really reminded me of how far the BL sphere has to go in terms of working past stereotypes and bias. (I'll note here that I actually don't know how much of this has gone on here on Tumblr, I'm mostly talking about what I've seen on Twitter and Tiktok).

From the start it weirded me out to see people say stuff like 'obviously it's JesBible' as soon as the casting was announced. Because like - based on WHAT? Regardless of what turns out to be the case (or what we've seen from the trailer, now), at that point the ONLY thing to go on was stereotypes. Jes is taller and a bit bigger so therefore 'obviously' he's the top, right?

Gross. (And oh, I really need the BL world to give me a show with a big masculine bottom and a shorter top just to see some of these small minds struggle to wrap around the concept, lol.)

Then there's been the absolute obsession with the topic of 'omg is it JesBible or BibleJes' ever since the announcement. I expected it from the fandom, but the extent that it's gone on and then also hearing it from the media as well this week was so off-putting. It's reminded me that people really don't like it when they aren't given immediate confirmation of their biases and pre-defined boxes, and they don't like not being given answers, either.

I'll pause here to say that oh, I so appreciate how both Bible and Jes have handled this. They've both made it clear that it doesn't matter, that it's not relevant. Bible even said at one point that 'BibleJes or JesBible doesn't matter, you should think more about whether it's GreatTyme or TymeGreat', haha. (Also, I just want to say that I agree with what one of my friends on Twitter said - maybe, just maybe, 4 Minutes will be the show where we start rejecting this rigid defining of pairs based on who's supposed to be 'the top' or 'the bottom'? Because personally I think BibleJes and GreatTyme sound a lot better than the other way around, lol.)

Another thing I've seen come up is 'oh it's weird to see Bible being a bottom', 'it's weird to see Bible being submissive'.

Girl, what?

He's an actor. Why would he not play a variety of roles! I never see people say 'oh, it's weird to see ____ play a villain', or at least it isn't something that's been said very often, so why is this coming up here? Again: stereotypes (and a bit of fetishization, probably).

As for submissive - one day people will realize that where body parts are going has nothing to do with submission and the world will be a happier place 😭

This is why I would really like to see BLs incorporate something that I haven't seen much of: switching. Both in terms of changing up what role the actors are playing, but also just straight up acknowledging that not all queer couples stick to rigid top/bottom roles! Of course some do, but some don't, and representation of that might help dispel some of this nonsense.

There's also always a faint whiff of bottom shaming that goes on in these conversations, a view that being a bottom is 'lesser' or 'weaker' and it really bothers me. It's insulting to the actors giving their all to the roles but it's also really insulting to all the queer men out there who are being viewed that way according to sexual preferences. (And that's without even touching on the heavy, heavy whiff of sexism and misogyny attached to all of this, because I'm sure we've all seen people refer to the bottom as 'the wife', etc).

Honestly, it just deepens my admiration for Jes and Bible in taking this on. Jes has already gotten a question about how his lakorn viewers will see him now and I think he fielded that admirably, talking about how he's an actor and he hopes/thinks they'll realize that. There's also a bit of an assumption that lakorn is a 'step up' from BL so I love to see him defying that. He's been very firm on handling the media, too - he had an interview yesterday and TWICE had to shoot them down on the 'BibleJes or JesBible' nonsense.

And of course, Bible, my baby - oh, I admire him in doing this. So many BL acting pairs stick to rigid roles and here he is, in only his second role, being willing to defy those and challenge how the fandom perceives him and take on all the weirdness and hate that he's inevitably going to get through at him. I've already seen some people expressing dismay and saying they can't/don't want to see him in this sort of role, and I'm sure he had to be aware that he was opening himself up to that. I'm so proud that he did it anyway and I hope those people reconsider their notions around top/bottom and their expectation that actors stay in neat little boxes.

And all the above is without even touching on all the delays and the history with 4 Minutes, which already made it a bit messy in the first place.

ANYWAY. I don't really know how to wrap this up, since I'm partly just venting here to get this off my chest. But I really hope that this opens up some conversations in the BL space and creates some change for the better.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Chapter 2 - The Symphony of Stress-Relief

Previous Chapter 1 - The Symphony of Spite (Tumblr/Ao3)

A/N: Welcome, unfortunate souls, to The Symphony of Stress, aka corporate warfare with bonus smut, rare pairs, & questionable HR decisions. ⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ ☕ Corporate Hellscape (accurate) 🔥 Petty Revenge (satisfying) 💼 Office Politics (violent) 🛑 HR Violations (constant) 🍷 Smut (rare pairs, unexpected bottoms, & pure nonsense) I swear I started this as a simple office AU, but then Gojo happened. Now we have mafia-tier HR, workplace sabotage, and the most chaotic company retreat in history. This fic is either the peak of my writing career or a cry for help. Do I regret it? No. Do I fear what I’ve created? Absolutely. 🚨 Engagement Bribe 🚨 Comment, or HR will personally schedule you for a mandatory compliance seminar hosted by Sukuna. (It’s just him insulting you for two hours.) Now, onto the madness.

Nanami was pissed off. Sukuna was enraged.

“He made my life hell!” Thrust.

“Screwed up every project I handed him.” Thrust.

“Humiliated me in front of clients and the entire goddamn office.” Thrust.

“Gave me so much stress that teenagers ask if I need help crossing the street.” Thrust.

“For five fucking years, and I kept him around because I didn’t want him to be homeless!” Nanami snarled, his grip tightening as he let out a string of curses that sounded way too professional, even in rage.

“Forget about Gojo.” Sukuna grumbled, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. “How do I murder Hiromi and get away with it? He’s a particularly painful ulcer I can’t get rid of. And so is Shoko.”

"Short answer? You can’t,” Nanami exhaled, sharp and exhausted. “People will notice if they go missing. Handle it internally.”

“How though? The vuvuzela stopped being useful. They just talk over it now.”

“You figure something out—I don’t know!” Nanami snapped.

Tension crackled between them, frustration bleeding into every movement, every breath. They were exhausted. The weight of the company, the stress of incompetence at every level, the sheer audacity of their enemies—it was driving them both insane.

And you?

You choked out a sound—something between a moan and a gasp.

They both froze.

Sukuna let out a sharp exhale, his fingers flexing against your throat, and Nanami groaned, his grip tightening as he thrust forward again, harder this time.

Your vision blurred.

Nanami gritted his teeth, pushing deeper, as though willing every frustration he had into his movements. “This is the only part of my day that makes sense anymore.”

Sukuna’s hand curled under your jaw, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze while you choked on his cock. His lips curled into something dangerous, something possessive. “Tch. At least someone listens when I talk.”

The room smelled like sweat, frustration, and corporate resentment. Their voices, filled with irritation, tangled in your ears, vibrating against your skin.

“We should fire Geto.” Nanami muttered suddenly, voice gruff, low, full of something that wasn’t entirely directed at you.

You felt Sukuna still.

“…Elaborate?” Sukuna’s voice was dangerous. Thoughtful. Almost intrigued.

“Think about it,” Nanami continued, his hands digging into your hips as he moved again, more fluid this time, his frustration turning into something deeper, something satisfying. “If we fire Geto, Gojo’s life will fall apart. His only lifeline in this company is a man who hates him. What happens when that’s gone?”

Sukuna’s sharp laugh sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s evil.”

Nanami hummed, satisfied. “Finally, you’re catching up.”

Sukuna’s fingers tightened against your jaw. “You hear that, sweetheart?” His voice was low, teasing. “This is why he’s the CFO.”

Your head spun.

And they were still talking about work.

Still fuming over business deals and incompetence.

Still plotting the ruin of their enemies.

And somehow, in all of it, they never stopped paying attention to you.

Nanami was dangerously close to snapping. Sukuna already had as he came in your mouth. “Swallow.”

You did.

“Good fucking,” came the praise as he positioned himself in a way that now you were lying on his chest as Nanami continued to give you backshots.

You were trapped in the middle of it, heat pressing against your skin, their rage fueling every sharp movement, every frustrated groan.

“She had the audacity—” Thrust.

“To ask for a RAISE.” Thrust.

“A RAISE, Ryomen.” Thrust. “After filing three HR complaints against me in one month.” Thrust.

Nanami exhaled through gritted teeth. “Who, exactly, does Mei Mei think she is?”

Sukuna let out a sharp breath, adjusting his grip. “A fucking problem. That’s what she is.”

"She knows she’s untouchable because HR babies her. She can’t get fired unless she physically assaults someone in broad daylight.” Nanami groaned, tipping his head back in frustration. “And even then, I guarantee HR would find a reason to keep her just like they did when she tried to assault Ino.”

Sukuna scoffed, angling your hips to take Nanami deeper, making you moan loudly. “If we can’t fire her, can we at least ruin her life?”

Nanami let out a dark chuckle. “See, this is the kind of thinking I respect.”

You whimpered, fingers tightening in Sukuna’s hair.

Neither of them paused.

Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened. “Give her the Nishimiya authors.”

Sukuna stilled for half a second—then let out a sharp laugh, filthy and cruel. “Oh, you’re a fucking monster.”

Nanami smirked. “She’ll drown in that workload. But she won’t be able to complain without admitting she’s in over her head. Either she handles it—or HR will finally have a reason to let her go.”

Sukuna hummed, satisfied. “And if she somehow pulls through?”

Nanami thrust deeper, slower, making your breath stutter. “Then at least she’ll be too fucking exhausted to bother us.”

Sukuna laughed again, breathless, rubbing his hand down your spine. “Brutal.”

You felt insanely hot, trapped between them, drowning in their sharp words, their executive-level scheming, their singular focus that never wavered.

They were venting, plotting, and orchestrating workplace sabotage—while using you to take the edge off.

Sukuna pressed his forehead against yours, kissing you sweetly. “You're our best stress relief, you know that?”

Nanami groaned, gripping your throat gently, his lips brushing against your hair as he muttered, “You deserve every fucking thing, darling.”

---

Across the city, Shoko stormed into Hiromi’s home office, twisting the lock behind her as her heels clicked against the marble flooring like the ticking of a corporate doomsday clock. Her jaw was tight, and the sheer venom in her eyes could have killed a lesser man.

Without a word, she shoved Hiromi back against his mahogany desk, and snapped, “Eat me out or I’ll strangle Sukuna with my own two hands.”

Hiromi, who had just removed his reading glasses, didn’t even blink.

Instead, he simply exhaled through his nose—the same damn perfectly arched nose that made most of the legal interns question their life choices—and set down his pen.

Then he smiled—slow, dangerous, understanding. “I will,” he murmured, voice deep and steady as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. “But if you still want to strangle him after, I’ll help.”

That was all the confirmation she needed.

And just like that, Chief Human Resources Officer Ieiri Shoko and Chief Legal Officer Higuruma Hiromi—the two deadliest entities in the entire company—began planning Sukuna’s demise.

Hiromi—the composed, infuriatingly collected man—simply loosened his tie, shrugged off his suit jacket, and let her push him down on his knees as he began unbuttoning her pants.

The heavy weight of his mahogany desk pressed into her spine, hands effortlessly sliding her waistband down. His breath was warm against her skin, slow and controlled, because, of course, Hiromi didn’t rush anything.

Shoko, however, was done waiting.

“I mean it,” she gritted out, her fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair. “He’s…” sharp inhale “…a menace. I had to rewrite the entire handbook because of him.”

Hiromi hummed in acknowledgment, his obscenely attractive nose trailing down her stomach, brushing against her heat like he knew exactly what kind of reaction it would pull from her.

Shoko’s breath hitched.

“I had to add… a clause… about vuvuzelas in professional settings, Hiromi.”

Hiromi didn’t stop, didn’t react—just exhaled slowly against her clit.

Shoko groaned. “He tried to claim hand-to-hand combat as a valid team-building exercise. Kusakabe already hates everyone—he almost committed a homicide in a board meeting because of him.”

Hiromi sighed, long, suffering, and dragged his obnoxiously perfect nose up, pressing it against her clit like it was a legal strategy he was about to tear apart in court.

Shoko’s breath caught.

Hiromi pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her, his tongue flicking out just enough to make her whole body tremble.

Shoko fisted his hair. “And he submitted an expense report for a f—fuck—flamethrower.”

Hiromi still didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His response came in the form of a slow, calculated stroke of his tongue, combined with his dangerously sharp nose pressing against her clit, rubbing in small, insufferably perfect circles.

Shoko’s thighs tensed, and fingers twitched, barely resisting the urge to yank him closer. “I’m gonna kill him,” she gritted out.

Hiromi’s tongue flicked against her, slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for her to elaborate. He arched a brow. Acknowledgment.

Shoko exhaled shakily. “The HR department stopped trying to fine him, Hiromi. Do you know how bad that is? That means we’ve given up. We’re just letting him be a workplace hazard now.”

Hiromi—without missing a beat, because of course he was still multitasking like the overachieving lawyer he was—arched a brow and traced slow, devastating circles against her clit with his thumb.

Shoko’s breath hitched.

“The last time HR gave up on someone,” she panted, fingers tightening in his hair, “we—ah—sent out a fucking memo—”

Hiromi was barely listening now, his sharp lawyer brain entirely focused on making her fall apart.

He knew she wasn’t done venting. Knew she needed this stress burned out of her system before she threw a letter opener at Sukuna’s head in the break room.

And he was nothing if not supportive.

So, he took his time.

A slow, lazy drag of his tongue and a press of his nose made her thighs twitch. Then let out a low, nearly bored hum as she tried to keep speaking.

“He stole my fucking Montblanc laptop bag. The one you got me from Belgium, Hiro,” she gasped, her head tilting back against his desk.

Hiromi—who had already accepted that Ryomen Sukuna existed purely to piss him off—blinked once.

She knew what that meant.

Noted.

“I—” Shoko inhaled heavily. “I filed a goddamn internal complaint with COO and he wrote back, ‘We understand your frustration, but Dr. Ieiri, let's embrace the cheos.’” She had a PhD in HR.

Hiromi blinked twice.

Disapproval.

Shoko was half a second from continuing her tirade—really, she was—until Hiromi arched his nose against her just right and—

Her words died in her throat.

A low, unfiltered moan slipped past her lips.

Hiromi let out a small, self-satisfied sound. His fingers dug into her thighs, firm but not urgent, like he had all the time in the world.

And Shoko—brilliant, smart, no-nonsense Shoko—could do nothing but let her head fall back against his desk as he silenced every thought in her head.

Which was probably for the best, because across his desk, her phone buzzed.

She didn’t hear it.

But Hiromi did.

And because he was a masochist who cared about work-life balance, he moved his mouth away just long enough to reach for it.

The name on the screen made him still.

Nobara.

He picked up, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as he answered with a smooth, utterly unaffected voice.

"Yes?"

A sharp teenage voice snapped back, "Mom, where's Mom?"

Hiromi glanced at the desk—at Shoko, who was currently too busy falling apart on his fingers to answer.

He sighed, adjusting the phone against his shoulder as he resumed his previous task.

"She's busy," he said simply.

Nobara groaned in frustration. "Well, tell her I need to see her—ugh, whatever, Dad, just tell her to call me back!"

And then she hung up.

Shoko barely registered what just happened.

He threw away the phone and got back between his wife’s legs. Then he dragged his tongue lower, lower, before pressing his perfectly arched nose right back against her clit.

Shoko shuddered—but she wasn’t done talking.

“He’s too powerful.” Her fingers tightened in his hair, but Hiromi didn’t flinch. “The only reason his bullshit makes sense to anyone is because Geto translates it into actual strategy.”

Hiromi hummed again, this time in calculated approval.

Shoko’s breath hitched as she came with a shudder. “So we remove Geto.”

Hiromi finally pulled away, licking his lips, and pressed a kiss to her belly as he stared up at her with the patience of a man who had been planning murder long before this conversation started.

Shoko’s chest heaved.

Hiromi stood wiping her down with wet tissues from his desk.

“How?”

Shoko grinned, fixing her pants.

Firing Geto was impossible—on paper. He was competent. Too competent. He single-handedly turned Sukuna’s most brain-dead ideas into actual, viable strategies. If they got rid of him, Sukuna would collapse under the weight of his own stupidity.

But you didn’t fire people because they were bad at their jobs.

No, no, no.

You fired them because it was inconvenient for them to stay.

Shoko took a long drag from the cigarette Hiromi had lit for them to share, an infrequent habit. “We start by leaking a rumor.”

Hiromi tapped his finger against his chin. “Geto has worked late every night this quarter. That means overtime claims.”

Shoko grinned. “Which means expense fraud.”

Hiromi exhaled through his nose, amused. “Not illegal. But inconvenient.”

“Exactly.”

Shoko flicked the ashes of her cigarette into a tray and handed it back to Hiromi. “We’ll put him in charge of a diversity and inclusion project.”

Hiromi took a contemplative puff.

Then he smirked.

“That’s good.”

Shoko laughed. “It’s HR-approved corporate warfare. He can’t quit without looking like an asshole, and he can’t survive without running himself into the ground.”

Hiromi let out a low hum, something dark and knowing.

The plan was perfect.

And across the city, Sukuna—completely oblivious to the incoming HR-sanctioned murder attempt—continued to be the worst employee known to mankind.

---

On another side of town, Gojo was causing marital problems between high school sweethearts without even being there.

Ino's hands were seizing Suguru's hips, his fingers digging deep into the flesh as he pulled him closer.

Geto was seething. His entire body burned with frustration, his muscles taut as if he were holding himself together with a thin string. The fury had nowhere to go—nowhere, except the way his nails bit into Ino's back and took every inch his husband shoved into him.

"That bastard," Geto snarled, his nails digging into the mattress, his voice muffled but dripping with venom. "Five years, Ino. Five fucking years of doing the work of two people while that absolute waste of oxygen paraded around as an incompetent EA and a crybaby—"

Ino slammed into Geto, their bodies crashing together in a frenzy of angry sex. "Forget about Gojo for now, Suguru," Ino growled, his eyes blazing with intensity. "I don’t want to talk about work or hear another’s name on your lips when I’m the one making love to you."

He punctuated his order by yanking him back onto his horsecock so hard that the air left Geto’s lungs in a choked moan.

"So shut up," Ino growled, his fingers digging into Geto’s princess waist, bruising.

But Geto didn’t shut up.

Geto cried out, his eyes watering from Ino’s aggressive thrusts. "Don’t worry about him like that, baby. I genuinely hate him," he mumbled, his eyes flashing with fury. "I hate him so much; I want to eradicate his trust fund ass bloodline."

Ino's hand moved to tug at Geto's hair, while his other hand’s nails bit into his ass as he pulled him back onto his length. "That's not what I want to hear."

Geto's face twisted in a mixture of anger and pleasure. "Ta...Tacco," he stuttered.

But the nickname wasn't enough for Ino.

"He—he made me believe I was losing my mind,” Geto continued, his voice raw, breaking between every ruthless thrust. “That idiotic imbecile.”

Ino’s jaw gritted. The way Geto was clenching around him was driving him insane, but this wasn’t working.

He wanted Geto to break, wanted him to be writhing for him, moaning for him, screaming his name.

Not fucking Gojo’s.

So he changed tactics.

With zero warning, Ino slid out, flipped Geto onto his stomach, and pinned him down with one hand between his shoulder blades.

Geto barely had time to register it before Ino was slamming back into him, his grip tightening in his hair, forcing his head up.

“Say my name, Suguru!”

Geto gasped, his fingers twisting in the sheets, his back arching involuntarily as Ino pressed his chest against his spine, heat, muscle, and dominance.

But Geto was still fucking talking about Gojo.

"Do you know what it’s like to realize your entire career is a goddamn lie?” he snarled. “That you’re being played by an idiot with the attention span of a goldfish?”

Ino exhaled through his nose, frustrated.

Then he grabbed Geto’s jaw, forced his head back by yanking at his hair, and bit down on the side of his throat, hard.

Geto whined.

“Fuck,” Ino murmured, voice like gravel. "You’re still thinking about him? Fine—"

He pulled back just enough to wrap his hand around Geto’s throat, applying pressure—not enough to cut off his air completely, but enough to make Geto’s thighs tremble.

"You will say my name, Suguru," Ino whispered, dangerous, demanding, dripping with dominance.

"Or I’ll stop. Right now."

Geto whined.

That finally got his attention.

There was a beat—one second, two—then Geto arched back against Ino’s chest, shaking, wrecked, and screamed,

"INO!"

Ino smirked, victorious.

And then he fucked him into the mattress like he was proving a point.

---

The next morning, Geto arrived at work to find his email mysteriously stopped working, and the entire schedule disappeared. His desk was moved two floors down to an abandoned cubicle near the janitor’s closet.

He had sixteen new interns waiting for him with zero instructions.

His new title?

"Director of Internal Equity Initiatives & Community Synergy."

An email from HR in his new inbox. “We’d love to see you take a more hands-on leadership role in this space.”

It took him six seconds to realize Gojo had played him.

And standing in the doorway, sipping a venti caramel macchiato, was Gojo Satoru.

Smiling.

“Hey, champ. Looks like you got a big boy job now. Good for you.”

Geto nearly committed a felony.

By 9:15 AM, Sukuna stormed into his office.

“What the fuck is this?”

Geto exhaled, rubbing his temples. “…They promoted me sideways.”

Sukuna blinked. “The fuck does that mean?”

Geto leaned back in his chair. “It means… I have less power, more responsibility, and a workload so impossible that I’ll either burn out or quit.”

Sukuna stared at him, nostrils flared and fingers twitching.

He should have been the one to get him fired, for Nanami.

Then he turned on his heel, stormed out of the office, and screamed, “HIGURUMAAAAA!”

---

Shoko sat across from Hiromi, feet kicked up on his desk, filing her nails.

Hiromi calmly checked his watch, then winked at Shoko.

Shoko smirked. “He got the email.”

Victory.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen. His lips twitched—only slightly—as he read the caller ID.

He put it on speaker.

“Dad,” her teenage voice came through the speaker, sharp and impatient. “Where’s Mom? I need to talk to her.”

Shoko glanced up from her nails. “I’m right here, brat.”

Nobara sighed loudly into the phone. “Of course, you’re in Dad’s office. You two are always together.”

Shoko groaned. “Yeah, and?”

Nobara groaned back. “I need to stay over at Maki’s tonight.”

Hiromi hummed. “If Toji knows, then it’s fine.”

“He does. Also, tell Mom to stop smoking.”

Shoko smirked. “I make my own rules, baby.”

---

The first sign of catastrophe was the IT memo.

At precisely 9:25 AM, every employee at Kaisen Publishing received an internal email.

Subject: URGENT: NEW SYSTEM UPDATE (MANDATORY)

From: Satoru Gojo, COO

Attachments: [System Update Guide.pdf]

The entire office fell for it.

Nanami clicked the link.

Error 404: Skill Issue flashed across his screen.

Then his calendar turned into a neon green and pink mess labeled ‘Gojovision™’ with every meeting title replaced by:

“Mandatory Meditation with Your Favorite Boss 🥰”

“Lunch with That One Guy You Like But Never Admit (Me)”

“How To Accept That You Will Never Be As Hot As Me”

By 9:30 AM, Shoko, Hiromi, and Geto had barged into IT, demanding answers.

They were met with a lifesize cardboard cutout of Gojo, holding a sign that said:

“Sorry, I am too pretty to deal with your problems. Please cry elsewhere.”

---

The Fall of the Old Guard started.

Nanami’s desk was filled with tiny, laminated copies of Gojo’s employee of the month photo from 2019.

Kusakabe’s mouse was set to “Invert Y-Axis” permanently.

Toji’s office was replaced with an employee yoga room.

Sukuna’s vuvuzela was replaced with one that only played the Teletubbies theme song.

By noon, Hiromi and Shoko had begun plotting war.

Only Wife: We kill him.

Only Hiromi: Don’t use text; we can be tracked if Geto kills him first.

Only Wife: Then we kill him first.

---

In the afternoon, the entire C-Suite was summoned to the boardroom.

Gojo stood at the front, composed, smug, and glowing like he’d just emerged from a ten-day spa retreat in the Maldives.

Then, with unforgivable glee, he said, “Oh, by the way, Suguru? Your resignation letter was accepted. I just forgot to tell you. Pack up by Friday.”

Disarray.

Sukuna threw a chair at him.

Nanami supplied him with more chairs.

Geto went silent—just staring at Gojo like he was trying to manifest his death with sheer force of will.

And Gojo?

He sipped his coffee. Smiled.

And walked out.

By the end of the day, HR had officially surrendered, Sukuna’s war on HR had escalated into an actual HR vs C-Suite Mafia Conflict, and Nanami had developed a twitch in his left eye.

---

By the next working day, no one was safe.

But Gojo wasn’t done.

Oh, no.

Because while Shoko, Hiromi, Nanami, Geto, and Sukuna were easy targets, there were still more names on his list.

And Gojo believed in equal-opportunity vengeance.

As Chief Editorial Officer Haibara’s Executive Assistant, Ino Takuma had a big job. He kept Haibara’s entire schedule running smoothly, coordinated between every department, and ensured that Haibara never had to deal with idiots.

Which was why it was particularly devastating when, on Monday morning, Ino arrived at work and his entire email history along with his scheduled emails was deleted.

Every meeting?

Gone.

Every deadline?

Erased.

Every draft, every document, every client request?

Vanished into the digital void.

Even his backup files had been corrupted.

There was only one email left in his inbox.

From: Satoru Gojo, COO

Subject: 🖤 oopsies 🖤

Body: lmao my bad

Ino stormed into IT foaming at the mouth.

The IT Department, previously unbothered by the company-wide chaos, had finally lost its collective mind.

They pointed to the lifesize cardboard cutout of Gojo, now wearing sunglasses, with a second sign taped to it.

“Too sexy to fix your problems. Try again later.”

---

Ijichi, Shoko’s EA, had somehow avoided the first wave of destruction.

This was unacceptable.

Gojo corrected that mistake immediately.

Step 1: Change all his passwords.

Step 2: Disable his security clearance.

Step 3: Print every single complaint Ijichi ever filed about him (all 276 of them) and mail them back to him.

The cherry on top?

When Ijichi tried to log into the HR database, it redirected him to a singular, unskippable pop-up video.

It was Gojo.

Smiling.

Winking.

And saying, “Sucks to be you, bro.”

Ijichi cried in the break room.

---

Director of Customer Experience, Kusakabe Atsuya, and his EA, Hajime Kashimo, were next.

Kashimo, already one of the most chaotic employees at Kaisen Publishing, had somehow made the grave mistake of bullying Gojo back when he was ‘just an EA.’

Now?

It was payback.

Step 1: Gojo edited Kusakabe’s Slack contacts so that every time he tried to text Kashimo, it sent a calendar invite for ‘Advanced Handholding Techniques’ with Gojo Satoru.

Step 2: He rerouted Kashimo’s paycheck to a cryptocurrency wallet labeled ‘clownfunds.exe.’

Step 3: He signed Kashimo up for every corporate seminar about ‘Emotional Sensitivity in Leadership.’

By noon, Kashimo had physically launched a printer across the office.

By 3 PM, Kusakabe had locked himself in the storage room, whispering “this isn’t a problem” to himself repeatedly.

---

Gojo’s revenge against Fushiguro Toji, Chief Sales Officer—aka the corporate version of a war criminal—had to be more subtle.

Why?

Because Toji probably had knives.

So, instead of direct sabotage, Gojo planted the seeds of his destruction.

First, he redirected all of Toji’s client emails to spam.

Then, he moved his sales reports into a random, unlabeled folder buried inside a company drive from 2009.

By mid-afternoon, Toji’s office was in flames—figuratively—for now as he ripped through his entire system, trying to find out where the fuck his data went.

And Gojo?

He booked himself a three-week vacation and left them to burn.

---

By the end of the week, Kaisen Publishing had changed.

Ino had developed a jaw tick.

Ijichi was still locked out of HR.

Toji threatened to break Gojo’s legs.

Kashimo was trying to hack his own paycheck.

Nanami was on the verge of actual homicide.

Geto had been moved—again—to office admin.

Sukuna was planning an actual coup.

Kusakabe was in therapy.

Hiromi was thinking of going back to criminal law.

Shoko was openly encouraging physical violence.

---

Somewhere else in the city, you sat in your office, trying not to sigh audibly as your longest-coming patient droned on.

He had been talking for exactly forty-seven minutes without stopping.

For the last five years, he had been trying—desperately—to get closer to a man who refused to notice him. A man who was cold, detached, and frustratingly competent. A man who, despite all of his efforts, remained emotionally unavailable and deeply, deeply unimpressed.

You might have felt bad for him.

But he was here for a reason.

He was Yandere.

And you were getting paid to listen to this bullshit.

You nodded slowly, jotting down notes, making sure to maintain professional neutrality as he continued, oblivious to how completely fucking insane he sounded.

“—and every time I bring him coffee, he sighs like I personally walked into his home and unplugged his WiFi.”

“Mm.”

“—and I memorized all of his favorite foods, but he still calls me a liability and refuses to eat with me in the break room—”

You tapped your pen against the clipboard. “So, it sounds like he’s set very clear boundaries, and you’re—”

“Ignoring them?” The man scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “No, no, no. I’m just giving him space to realize he actually likes me.”

You stared.

He grinned.

You jotted down ‘delusional.’

Twenty More Minutes of Bullshit Later... “I even started dressing more professionally. You know—less fun, more business. He likes boring people.”

You raised a brow. “And has this change in behavior influenced his perception of you?”

The man hesitated.

Then:

“He yelled at me for messing up a report and called me the single biggest mistake of his career.”

“…Right.” You cleared your throat. “And how did that make you feel?”

He sighed dreamily. “Amazing. He only gets that mad when he really cares, y’know?”

You blinked slowly. “Right.”

You were about to recommend him a 72-hour psychiatric hold when he casually added:

“Oh, and I’m pretty sure he’s married, but I think that’s just one of those silly little obstacles we’ll laugh about later.”

You froze.

“…What?”

He waved a hand again, completely unfazed. “Yeah, yeah, I saw a ring or whatever. But, like, c’mon.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Whoever it is? He definitely doesn’t love them as much as he loves me.”

There was a beat of silence.

The patient smiled, oblivious.

“I just know he’s the one for me.”

You stared.

Then exhaled through your nose.

This was going to be a long fucking session.

After some more time, your patient was still talking.

You had long since stopped listening.

The words were flowing out of his mouth like a TED Talk no one paid for, his entire personality seemingly built around his obsessive workplace crush who didn’t notice him.

He drummed his fingers on his knees. “—so obviously, at this point, it’s only a matter of time before he realizes we’re meant to be.”

You hummed noncommittally.

He nodded, satisfied. “You get it. You’re normal.”

Your phone buzzed.

You glanced at the screen.

[Group Chat: ‘Why Is HR Trying to Kill Us’]

Nerd: We need to talk.

Frat Bro: Hilarious sentence considering you literally never want to talk about your little feelings.

Nerd: When were you gonna tell us our son got caught making out at university?

Frat Bro: LMAOOOOO, let’s fucking goooooo!!!

Nerd: And you high-fived him.

Frat Bro: HE’S 19, NANA, RELAX. AT LEAST HE’S NOT A LOSER ANYMORE.

Nerd: This is the third time I’ve had to lecture him about safe sex in a month.

Frat Bro: Oh my fucking god. YOU TALKED TO HIM ABOUT SAFE SEX AGAIN? DO YOU WANT HIM TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT?

Nerd: I will not allow my son to be ignorant about protection.

Frat Bro: Bro, we can have other kids; relax; he’s not the last of his bloodline.

Nerd: Stop calling me bro.

Frat Bro: Then stop texting like a middle school guidance counselor.

Nerd: That is what I feel like, considering our son is out here being publicly obscene while his father is high-fiving him for it.

Frat Bro: IT WAS OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL. BIG DIFFERENCE.

Nerd: IT IS NOT.

Frat Bro: Also, Toji was the one who showed up to pick up the other kid.

Nerd: Jesus Christ.

Frat Bro: He looked like he was ready to load a shotgun.

Nerd: He probably was.

Frat Bro: Yuji tried to dab him up.

Nerd: How did that go?

Frat Bro: Toji ignored him and smirked at his kid instead.

Nerd: Good.

Frat Bro: You’re a hater.

Nerd: I will not comment.

Frat Bro: You just did.

Nerd: I refuse to acknowledge your stupidity.

Frat Bro: Guess who he was making out with.

Nerd: Who?

Frat Bro: Megumi.

Nerd: …

Frat Bro: HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

Nerd: What?!

Frat Bro: TOJI'S OWN SON. LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nerd: I am going to lie down in traffic.

Frat Bro: We literally work with his dad every day.

Nerd: Yes. And?

Frat Bro: Toji’s kid is making out with our kid. This means we are technically family now.

Nerd: I hate you.

Frat Bro: I love our gay little son.

Nerd: I am blocking you.

You locked your phone before you could scream.

Your patient was still talking.

“…I’m just saying it’s not stalking if you know their entire schedule and occasionally show up at their favorite places before they do.”

You exhaled through your nose. “That's all the time that we have today. Remember to do those breathing exercises and write the unsent letters I told you about.” You told him while politely kicking him out of your office.

This was the worst fucking day of your life.

---

Then it started with a memo.

A crisp white envelope landed on Nanami’s desk at precisely 11:01 AM. The paper was unnervingly smooth, the company seal embossed in blood-red wax.

To: Nanami Kento, CFO

CC: Ryomen Sukuna, CVO

From: HR (The Department of Consequences)

Subject: YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

Nanami sighed. Of course.

He had endured a lifetime of bad decisions, but he knew—deep in his gut—that this was about the kazoo.

//

Meanwhile, across the office, Sukuna leaned back in his absurdly large chair, tossing the memo over his shoulder like a receipt from a store he planned to burn down later.

“HR finally grew a pair,” he muttered, unimpressed.

Geto, his ever-suffering ex-EA, picked up the discarded letter and skimmed it. His brows furrowed. “They want a ‘mandatory compliance meeting’ with all C-Suite executives. That means you, Nanami, Hiromi, Shoko, Toji, Kusakabe, Haibara, and—” he hesitated.

Sukuna smirked. “Oh, let me guess.”

A loud crash echoed through the hall.

“NANAMIIIIIIIIII!”

Gojo had arrived.

---

The Meeting from Hell (Sponsored by HR)

At precisely noon, the boardroom was filled with an unusual mix of tension, HR vengeance, and coffee that tasted vaguely like regret.

Nanami, Sukuna, Shoko, Toji, Kusakabe, Haibara, Hiromi, and Gojo sat in a semicircle, facing HR’s new Director of Employee Conduct (DEC).

A man none of them had ever seen before.

He wore a perfectly pressed black suit, his ID badge labeled only as "HR"—no last name, no employee code, just HR in bold capital letters. His aura radiated pure, unfiltered administrative menace.

But Sukuna knew who he was.

His annoying half-brother, who’d followed him here too.

Choso.

Gojo, who had already slouched so hard he was practically under the table, raised a hand lazily. “So, what’s this about?”

HR blinked at him slowly, like a lizard assessing prey. Then he reached into his briefcase and pulled out—

A single PowerPoint slide.

One phrase. One sentence. One undeniable truth.

‘THERE ARE NO LAWS THAT PROHIBIT PHYSICAL VIOLENCE AGAINST EXECUTIVES.’

Silence.

Nanami stopped breathing. Sukuna sat up. Shoko took a sip of her coffee, unfazed. Kusakabe looked at the nearest exit. Hiromi took a deep breath. Toji smirked. Haibara’s eyes gleemed.

Gojo?

Gojo laughed.

“Wait, so you’re telling me—” he wheezed, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, “—that we spent years dodging HR complaints, only to find out they could have just punched us?”

HR closed his laptop, his expression blank, voice monotone. “Yes.”

The implications settled in.

Kusakabe, normally composed, whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

Sukuna’s grin stretched wider. “You’re telling me we could have been brawling this whole time?”

HR nodded.

“…No fines?” Nanami asked cautiously, his CFO brain twitching at the mere thought of an unregulated system.

“No paperwork?” Shoko added, hopeful for the first time in years.

“No lawsuits?” Gojo blinked, awestruck.

HR simply stood up, adjusted his tie, and walked around the table. When he reached Sukuna, he leaned down and whispered one word.

“Run.”

Sukuna barely had time to react before Hiromi—buttoned-up, put-together, legally-inclined Hiromi—flipped the fucking table and lunged at him.

---

One hour later, the office was in flames.

Sukuna had fought off three hulking HR representatives using nothing but a vuvuzela and a stapler.

Hiromi was locked in a full judo match with Geto, their fight crashing into the break room, where Geto flung a coffee pot at him like he was reenacting Die Hard.

Nanami, in an unprecedented move, drop-kicked Gojo directly into a vending machine, cracking the glass. Gojo slumped against it, blinking blearily as a Snickers bar fell into his lap.

Ino was booting Toji into a dirty mop bucket, while Haibara was beating the absolute shit out of Kusakabe for teasing Gojo back when he was an EA.

Kashimo had also shown up. Apparently, he’d gotten wind that Choso had rejected his PTO request to attend the world’s largest electric eel race. "It’s historical, you bastard!" Kashimo screamed as he launched himself across the room.

And Shoko?

Shoko stood in the middle of it all, watching the chaos unfold like she was watching a National Geographic documentary. She took a slow sip of her coffee and muttered,

“Finally, some real corporate reform.”

Then her own EA, Ijichi, showed up with a mop.

Shoko was surprised.

But the mop broke on impact.

Ijichi ran when Shoko put her cup down and smiled, cracking her knuckles.

---

Two Weeks Later, Jujutsu Corp. Was Different.

HR had installed ‘Employee Fight Nights.’

Disputes were now settled with bare fists.

Productivity skyrocketed.

Nanami had never been happier. He showed up to work early. He smiled—smiled—during meetings. He bought a new tie.

Gojo still sucked at his job, but now he had an incentive. If he failed too hard, he got thrown into the supply closet with only stale granola bars that tasted like cardboard and an unplugged landline.

Sukuna?

He thrived.

He was made for lawless corporate bloodsport.

And the HR department?

They finally got their revenge.

Order was restored.

The Symphony of Spite played on.

---

“WHO LET SUKUNA PLAN THIS?”

That was the first thing Nanami yelled as he stepped off the private jet onto the absurdly luxurious beach resort that Sukuna had somehow gaslit the board into approving.

The accommodations were individually staffed villas with ocean views.

The corporate expense budget had been thrown out the window.

The alcohol budget was bigger than the seminar budget.

Hiromi, Shoko, and Nanami all looked like they were considering a lawsuit.

Sukuna, sipping a frozen margarita, smirked. "Relax. It's all-expenses-paid. Enjoy it."

Nanami twitched. "Paid by who, Ryomen?"

"The company."

"Oh my god."

Gojo, who was already wearing sunglasses and a Gucci floral shirt, threw an arm around Sukuna and grinned. “Now, now. Let’s just enjoy the beach, Nanamin.”

"You’re a criminal."

Sukuna just laughed.

//

Yuji, excited to go to the beach, froze mid-step when he saw the last person he expected to see.

Megumi.

Making direct eye contact. Also frozen.

Maki, standing next to Megumi, squinted. “Wait.”

Nobara, standing next to Yuji, grinned like a demon.

“You two are here.”

Yuji blinked. “You’re here too??”

Megumi exhaled through his nose like a disappointed father. “Why are you here?”

“My parents’ work retreat.”

“MY parent’s work retreat.”

Silence.

The realization hit them all at once.

Their parents all worked together.

And then Yuta appeared, holding hands with Inumaki.

And then Ino and Geto showed up, hand in hand, deep in a heated debate over which SPF level was best for their adopted son Yuta’s sensitive skin.

And then Haibara walked over, sunglasses perched on his nose and a piña colada in hand, waving at them like a laid-back uncle at a barbecue. He ruffled Inumaki’s hair affectionately, a warm smile on his face. “Don’t forget to hydrate, buddy! And no energy drinks don’t count,” he called out, reminding everyone that he was always looking out for his adopted son.

The kids all collectively realized that their entire social circle was connected through some corporate nightmare.

Nobara, smirking, leaned on Maki’s shoulder. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

//

Ijichi did not want to be here.

He had already endured HR vs. C-Suite bloodshed, Gojo’s return from the underworld, and being locked out of his own system for three weeks.

But this?

This was worse.

Because this company retreat was nothing more than a week-long circus of corporate war crimes disguised as team bonding.

And somehow, HR had scheduled him for mandatory paddleboarding lessons with Kashimo.

Kashimo.

The one employee most likely to get them both killed in international waters.

He sat stiffly on the sand, watching as Kashimo flipped a paddle upside-down and used it as a microphone.

“This is bullshit,” Kashimo muttered, adjusting his sunglasses. “I was lied to. I thought we were gonna drink on a yacht."

"You could just do the activity," Ijichi gritted out.

"You could just not be a virgin," Kashimo shot back.

Ijichi considered throwing himself into the ocean.

//

You had had enough.

You had been ignoring it, trying to give your patient the benefit of the doubt.

But now that you watched Gojo laugh too loudly over a cocktail with Nanami, his sunglasses sliding down his nose, it clicked.

Your stomach dropped.

Sukuna was talking.

You weren’t listening.

Because it hit you all at once.

The man he had been talking about for five years—

The stoic, serious, emotionally unavailable, overworked executive—

The one he had been relentlessly pursuing for five fucking years—

—was your husband.

And Gojo had been lying about his workplace THE ENTIRE TIME!

You stood up, ready to throw hands.

“Oh? Are we finally doing this?” Gojo grinned, sliding his sunglasses down. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

Before you could deck him, Haibara materialized out of nowhere.

"Satoru, baby no."

You froze.

Everyone froze.

Because Haibara—calm, nice, smiling Haibara—just wrapped an arm around Gojo’s waist and kissed his cheek.

Gojo grinned.

“Oh, right. Did I forget to mention? This is my boyfriend.”

The entire company retreat fell into silence.

Sukuna, sipping a cocktail, whispered, “Holy shit! I did not see that coming.”

Nanami removed his glasses and rubbed his temples.

Toji and Kusakabe cackled.

And you?

You sat back down.

You were going to need another drink.

//

Inumaki and Yuta had been in the pool for six hours.

They had witnessed everything.

Kashimo being thrown into the ocean by Sukuna.

Nanami having a mid-life crisis after seeing Yuji and Megumi together.

Toji and Kusakabe sneaking into a beach hut for two hours.

Gojo pulling an entire wine bottle out of nowhere and drunkenly making out with Haibara.

Megumi watched Yuji dive into the sand and sighed. “You’re so stupid.”

Then Nanami got a sunburn despite reapplying SPF 50 every hour.

Nobara challenged Maki to a tequila shot contest. Maki won and carried Nobara’s passed-out ass to bed.

While Nobara’s parents—Hiromi and Shoko—got day drunk and talked shit about Sukuna for three straight hours.

Geto threatened to sue Choso.

Gojo let Choso punch him in the face.

Ino defended his husband’s honor.

You helped Ino by punching Gojo.

Haibara appeared out of nowhere again to knock you out.

Ijichi hid under a flipped boat.

Yuta adjusted his sunglasses. “So…”

Inumaki, floating on a pool noodle, exhaled through his nose.

“…Your dad and my dad work together.”

“Yes.”

“…And your dad is fucking his CEO, while my dads hate your future stepdad.”

“Mhm.”

“…And we’re just supposed to pretend like this is normal?”

Inumaki shrugged.

Yuta groaned. “I want a refund.”

“We didn’t pay.”

//

Choso hated everyone.

Especially Kashimo.

Which was unfortunate because he was currently fucking him.

This was never supposed to happen.

HR was supposed to remain neutral.

HR was supposed to enforce the rules.

Not bend Kashimo over a company-paid resort bed and remind him why fighting HR was a mistake.

Kashimo, breathless, his hair completely ruined, grinned up at him like a complete menace.

“That’s all you got?”

Choso narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”

He flipped Kashimo over.

HR was going to be compromised forever.

So it was HR vs. Kashimo, except HR is sleeping with him now.

//

By the next morning, Choso filed an official resignation letter.

It was denied immediately.

Kashimo signed it for him and then threw it into the bonfire.

HR was never recovering.

And neither was this company.

//

On returning day, the company jet was dead silent.

Nobody spoke. Nobody could speak. The air was thick with regret, hangovers, and the faint, lingering scent of bad decisions.

Nanami had not spoken a single word in three hours.

His shoes were gone.

His shirt was unbuttoned.

His soul had left his body.

Next to him, Sukuna was unconscious, head tilted back, drooling slightly onto his designer shirt. His sunglasses were still on, but his entire aura screamed, ‘I have been humbled.’

Toji and Kusakabe refused to make eye contact.

Nobody knew what happened between them on the last night.

Nobody wanted to know.

Geto and Ino, meanwhile, were inhaling sushi like they had survived a natural disaster and not a hangover.

Geto still had sand in his hair.

Ino was wearing a completely different slipper than any he’d owned.

They were each giving the other the better sushi.

Shoko and Hiromi, however, were unbothered.

They were annoying the shit out of Nobara and Maki by planning their wedding five years in advance.

“I think we should do two honeymoons.”

“Why? Are we planning to kill someone on the first one?”

“Shoko!”

“Fine. But I get to pick the murder weapon for our anniversary.”

Nobara, who had not stopped rolling her eyes for an hour, turned to Maki. “Trade parents with me. I’m begging you.”

Maki, scrolling on her phone, didn’t even glance up. “I’d rather fight God.” She would not give Toji up, not even for Mother Shoko.

Meanwhile in the back, Yuji was cuddling Megumi, half-asleep and murmuring nonsense.

Megumi, however, was staring dramatically out the window like he was in a mid-2000s emo music video.

Was he thinking about life?

Was he contemplating his future?

Was he wondering how his dad and his boyfriend’s dads worked together in a company that allowed Gojo to exist?

Nobody knew.

Yuta, sitting nearby, was applying sheet masks with Inumaki.

“You should use the hydrating one.”

“I should?”

“No, seriously, your pores are stressed.”

“Yours would be too if Gojo was to become your stepdad.”

“Toge, for the love of god, just—sit still—”

And then there was Kashimo & Choso.

Kashimo had fallen off his seat.

He was snoring loudly.

His shirt was missing.

He had somehow ended up in Gojo’s limited edition Gucci slides.

His hair was in his mouth.

Next to him, Choso was attempting to guest star in Megumi’s sad music video.

He had a perfectly timed melancholic stare.

He had a half-drunk mimosa in hand.

He looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, the fall of capitalism, and why the fuck he was fucking Kashimo.

Gojo, meanwhile, was the only one having a good time.

He was fully refreshed.

He had zero regrets.

He was actively making things worse.

With a shit-eating grin, Gojo was typing ‘LET’S DO THIS AGAIN!’ into the company Slack.

He was practically in Haibara’s lap, who was leaving very visible hickeys on his neck like he was trying to mark his territory but knew peeing wasn’t an option.

Sukuna, who had just woken himself up with a snort, squinted blearily at them.

“…Is this workplace harassment?”

“No, this is my boyfriend, Yu.”

Nanami, still dead inside and contemplating his life decisions, muttered, “Did not expect Haibara to be into idiots.”

He sighed and continued. “Well, I’m into one too, so I guess that makes me a hypocrite.” He glanced over at Sukuna, who was falling back asleep with his eyes wide open, looking like a horror movie character caught in a perpetual state of shock. “Great, now I’m married to a zombie too.”

Gojo gasped. Not sure from the fact that he did not expect Nanami to be married to Sukuna of all people or from Haibara twisting his nipples through his shirt under the blanket he was dragging him under.

You leaned back in your seat, exhaled deeply, and closed your eyes.

This was, without a doubt, the worst corporate retreat in history.

And next time?

You were faking a medical emergency.

Ijichi wondered why he was still an adult virgin and called back the barista who’d flirt with him daily on his way to work.

---

Bonus

Toji Fushiguro hated authors.

No, scratch that—he hated this author.

"Akutami," he gritted out, struggling to keep his patience intact. "I get it. You're pissed. But Kaisen Publishing has been your home for years. You can't just walk."

"See, Toji, the problem is," they drawled, "I can just walk. My contract is up, and my sales numbers could make any publisher wet their pants. I’m a free agent, baby."

Toji was having a bad fucking day.

“I’m leaving,” Gege added casually, flipping through a heavily annotated manuscript as if Toji wasn’t one bad negotiation away from career ruin.

Toji sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not leaving.”

“I am. Unless…”

Toji narrowed his eyes. “Unless what?”

Gege took a long sip of their coffee. “Unless you convince me otherwise.”

Kusakabe, the Director of Customer Experience (DCE), leaned forward, visibly panicking, trying to salvage the situation. “We need you to stay,” he said, already sweating.

Gege grinned. “Oh? Do you?”

Toji had dealt with nightmare clients before, but this? This was some next-level blackmail.

“Alright, what do you want?” Toji asked, arms crossed.

Gege leaned back in their chair, smirking. “A better contract. No more deadlines.”

Toji laughed. “Yeah, no.”

Gege shrugged. “Alright, then I’m gone.”

Kusakabe leaned in, desperate. “Okay, okay, we can negotiate! What about—uh—a signing tour? Bigger advance? More creative control?”

Gege tapped their chin. “All very tempting.”

Toji sighed, rubbing his temples. “You are so lucky you make us money.”

“Oh, I know.”

"Look," Kusakabe added carefully, "you have creative freedom here. We’ve never censored you."

Gege arched a brow. "No, but you did reject my pitch for a dark BL thriller about two businessmen in a toxic, doomed relationship where one gaslights the other into insanity."

Toji pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was just Satosugu with stock market terminology."

"And?"

"AND?!"

Toji was mere seconds away from hurling a chair when, without warning—

The door swung open with a bang.

And there, framed in the doorway like he owned the place—like he hadn’t just attempted to sabotage the entire company three weeks ago—stood none other than—

Gojo, COO and Certified Workplace Menace.

Right behind him was Haibara, the CEO, exuding his yandere tendencies: unnervingly calm, fiercely devoted, and radiating pure ‘if-you-touch-my-man-I’ll-kill-you’ energy.

Toji's entire body locked up. “Fuck me.” Kusakabe closed his eyes.

"Good morning, peasants," Gojo greeted chirpily.

Toji took a deep breath. "Gojo—"

But Gojo? Gojo ignored him.

Instead, he sauntered in like he was walking down a Parisian runway, immediately throwing an arm over Haibara’s shoulders and dragging him into the corner of the room, whispering something low.

Haibara grinned.

Then? They started making out.

Full. On. Corporate. PDA.

Toji and Kusakabe froze.

Gege? Gege stared, their brain short-circuited.

Eyes wide. Expression blank.

And then, very, very softly, they muttered—

“…Holy shit.”

Toji snapped.

"GOJO, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Gojo, still half-latched onto Haibara’s neck, turned slightly. "Hm?"

"TAKE IT OUTSIDE!"

Gojo blinked innocently. "What? We’re just showing healthy workplace affection."

"YOU ARE COMMITTING CORPORATE WAR CRIMES."

Kusakabe was already rolling up his sleeves. "I’ll hold him down. You punch."

Haibara, unfazed, stepped in front of Gojo like a human shield while Gojo continued to lick his neck like a Banshee.

"You’ll have to go through me," he said, smiling like a serial killer.

Toji deadpanned. "Man, are you good?"

"No." Haibara grinned wider. "But I love my boyfriend."

Gege had not blinked once.

Toji noticed.

“…What,” he asked suspiciously.

Gege took one slow sip of their coffee and tapped their fingers together like a scheming villain. Then whispered, "I’ve just had a brilliant idea."

Toji’s stomach dropped. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"YES."

Kusakabe stared. “For what?”

Gege’s eyes gleamed. “For my next book.”

Toji, already furious, turned to Gojo. “Get the fuck out!”

Gojo, ignoring him completely, pulled back from Haibara just enough to grin obnoxiously. “Aww, come on, don’t be jealous, Toji~”

Toji lunged.

Kusakabe grabbed his sleeve. “Toji, please, we need HR clearance before murder—”

Gojo dodged effortlessly. “Damn, man, you’re still this fast? No wonder the ladies love you.”

Haibara, smirking, stepped in front of Gojo again. “If you touch him, I will end your bloodline.”

Toji stopped, considered it.

Then immediately started swinging anyway.

Gege leaned forward, gleeful, deranged, and inspired. "I’ll stay."

Kusakabe perked up. "Really?"

"But—" Gege drawled.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake—" Toji looked ready to retire.

Kusakabe sighed deeply. “What’s your angle here?”

Gege leaned forward, predatory. "I want the exclusive."

"The what now?"

"The Gojo Satoru Interview."

"You’re out of your goddamn mind."

Silence.

Gojo, running a hand through Haibara’s hair, froze. “…Huh?”

Gege set their coffee down. “I have questions.”

Then—

"Absolutely not," Nanami’s voice suddenly rang from the corridor.

Too late. Gege was already opening their notes app.

What had once been a generic publishing drama was now a messy, doomed workplace romance.

And for that? Kaisen Publishing was worth staying for.

Toji’s left eye twitched.

Kusakabe, still rolling up his sleeves, stared between Gojo (the problem) and Gege (the bigger problem).

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Gojo was back to kissing Haibara like he had a limited-time coupon for free affection.

Haibara, whose only goal in life was to enable Gojo’s worst decisions, continued to let it happen.

Toji inhaled through his nose.

"No."

Gege, smirking like a villain in the final act, tilted their head. "Oh, but thiccck dick daddy Toji~"

Toji’s soul left his body. "This is unprofessional. I hate it when you do that voice."

"I love it when I do this voice." Gege winked at him.

From the hallway, Nanami—who had been ready to leave, minding his own fucking business—paused mid-step.

Then, slowly, backed up, peering inside the room like someone checking if a murder was in progress. “…Why do I feel like I just walked into a lawsuit?”

Toji didn’t even look at him. "Because you did."

Nanami, already done with this conversation, turned to leave— "Wait!" Gege called. "Would you like to co-author a tell-all book about working with Gojo? You seem like the only boring one here."

Nanami stopped and turned around very, very slowly. "…What?"

Gojo, who had been minding his own business (making out with Haibara), perked up immediately. "Ooooh, memoirs? Nanamin, would you like my high school yearbook photos? I was so hot—like Justin Bieber can’t even compete hot."

"You were an asshole," Geto muttered from the window, where he was eating sushi like a man recovering from a war.

"You can be both."

Toji groaned. "Okay, no one is writing a tell-all book. Nanami, leave."

Nanami didn’t move. "I think I want to stay now."

Toji dragged a hand down his face.

Gege, thrilled, continued. “Okay, final terms: I stay with Kaisen Publishing, but I get an exclusive sit-down interview with your in-house menace. Uncensored. No PR team interference. No board review.”

Toji and Kusakabe shared a long, tired look.

Then, simultaneously, they turned toward Haibara.

Toji sighed. “Can you control him?”

Haibara, still being devoured by Gojo, smirked.

"No."

"FUCK!"

And so, against all logic, ethics, and concerns for public safety, the infamous interview was scheduled.

Nanami, who had decided to stay out of morbid curiosity, was already drafting his resignation letter.

Kusakabe had aged ten years.

Toji was considering faking his own death.

Gojo grinned, pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t worry, Toji. I’ll make sure it’s the most iconic interview of the century.”

Toji exhaled deeply.

"I hope you choke on your own hubris," Nanami sighed.

//

The location was Kaisen Publishing’s Private Lounge—aka where HR went to cry or hook up with Kashimo.

Toji had one job.

One job.

And that was to make sure Gojo didn’t say anything that could get the company sued, canceled, or worse—put on a ‘business leaders to watch’ list.

This, unfortunately, was an impossible task.

Because Gojo was already seated in the executive lounge, legs kicked up on the coffee table, wearing sunglasses indoors, and sipping a venti caramel frappuccino with extra whipped cream like he was about to bullshit his way through a TED Talk.

Gege sat across from him, recorder on, notebook open, smirk firmly in place.

Kusakabe stood off to the side, clutching a folder labeled ‘Crisis Control Plan.’

Haibara was nearby, sipping a matcha latte, keeping one homicidal eye on Toji and the other adoringly on Gojo.

Nanami, forced to be here as PR supervision—because Yuki was on leave—was already rubbing his temples, searching for an exit.

Cameras started rolling as Gege sat smiling like they weren’t about to ruin their own career. They cleared their throat, pen at the ready. “Alright, Gojo, let’s start simple. How would you describe your leadership style?”

Gojo grinned. “Sexy.”

Toji groaned. “Can we not?”

Kusakabe flipped through his folder. “I don’t have a backup plan for this. Continue.”

Gege nodded, unfazed. “Okay. Sexy. Noted. Now, how do you handle conflict resolution in the workplace?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, smug. “With love.”

Silence.

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s objectively false.”

“Is it?” Gojo smirked.

“Yes,” Nanami deadpanned.

Toji nodded. “He nearly got into an actual fistfight with Shoko, the CHRO, last week.”

“That was a bonding exercise.”

“That was attempted murder,” Hiromi yelled from the back.

Gege jotted something down. “Okay, so you resolve conflicts with love and/or violence. Got it.”

Haibara smiled proudly.

Ino, Ijichi, Choso, and Kashimo exchanged exhausted glances.

Nanami was texting you about dinner plans like this wasn’t happening.

"Alright, Satoru," Gege continued. "Let’s start with an easy one—what’s your biggest professional regret?"

Gojo leaned back, adjusting his sunglasses. "Not committing tax fraud when I had the chance."

Nanami stared at him.

Gege perked up. "Oh? Elaborate."

Nanami intervened immediately. "Do not elaborate!"

Gojo shrugged. "I just feel like the U.S. government shouldn’t be the only ones allowed to rob people."

Nanami visibly aged five years.

After twenty minutes, Gege continued scribbling more notes. “So, to summarize, you believe—”

Gojo nodded. “That if HR gets to fight employees now, I should get to bring a sword to work.”

Nanami, staring directly into the camera, exhaled slowly. "Gege, I beg of you, move on to the next question."

Gege smirked. "Oh, you’ll love this one. Gojo—who’s the most annoying person you work with?"

Nanami tensed.

Gojo, grinning like a menace, turned to the camera.

"Suguru Geto."

Off-camera, Geto—who was minding his own business (here to send hate to Gojo with his husband Ino), sipping his coffee—froze.

Gege raised a brow. "But—he’s not even an EA anymore."

Gojo laughed. "Oh, I know."

Geto narrowed his eyes. “I will set your office on fire.”

Nanami, fully dead inside, was texting Shoko, begging her to fire him.

Gege continued again, unfazed. “So, Gojo. Tell me, how do you view your role as COO?”

Gojo grinned like he’d been waiting for this. “Oh, simple.” He leaned forward, shades sliding down the bridge of his nose. “I’m the glue that holds this company together.”

Silence.

Then, Kusakabe, Hiromi, and Toji actually laughed out loud.

Geto launched a pen at Gojo’s head while Ino held him back from aiming it right.

Nanami got up to leave.

Haibara kissed Gojo on the cheek.

Taking advantage of the disarray, Kashimo and Choso snuck off to make out while Ijichi started sexting his girl.

Gege was about to ask the next question when—

They saw him.

There, standing in the doorway, arguing with Shoko and looking like he walked out of a villain fashion ad, was—

Ryomen Sukuna.

Gege froze. Their pen dropped.

Toji noticed the shift in energy immediately. “Oh, God no."

Gege, still staring, whispered, “…is that Sukuna?”

Gojo looked over his shoulder and snorted. “Yeah. He’s married to Nanamin.”

Gege’s soul left their body. “You’re lying.”

Gojo grinned. “Nope. Wanna watch them interact?”

Nanami, who had just re-entered the room with a fresh cup of coffee, sighed. “Satoru, don’t.”

Gojo waved Sukuna over anyway.

Ryomen Sukuna—and his nonsensical title, corporate terrorist, HR’s biggest enemy—strolled in, looking bored as hell, completely unaware that Gege was currently having a breakdown over his existence. “What?” he grunted, looking at Gojo.

Gojo pointed at Gege. “Our little gremlin here is a huge fan.”

Gege, who was normally a menace to everyone else, was suddenly flustered. "Holy. Fucking. Shit."

Gojo and Nanami blinked.

Gege lit up like a Christmas tree. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE!!"

Sukuna froze.

Gojo frowned. "Wait. What."

Gege was already standing, shaking.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I LOVE YOUR WORK."

Hiromi was completely lost. "Sukuna doesn’t work."

Gege ignored him. “YOU. ARE. INCREDIBLE.”

Sukuna looked deeply concerned. "I literally don’t know who you are."

Gojo, offended as hell, observed, "Hold on. You didn’t react like this for me."

Gege waved a dismissive hand at Gojo. "Gojo, shut up. This is important."

“I—” Gege started, looking at Sukuna. Then paused.

Finally, they managed: "Do you believe in destiny?"

Then, to everyone’s horror, Sukuna smirked. "Are you flirting with me or trying to kill me?"

Gege beamed. "Why not both?"

Toji physically pushed Gege’s recorder off the table. “Okay, NO. We are NOT doing this.”

Gojo, laughing, leaned back. “Oh, this is getting good.”

Nanami stood up immediately. "Alright. This interview is over. Everyone please get back to work."

Gojo laughed. "Are you jealous?"

Nanami, dead inside, took a long sip of coffee. “I regret ever signing my marriage license.”

Gojo grinned. "Can I get a raise before your divorce?"

Nanami asked Hiromi and Shoko, “How do I submit a workplace harassment claim against the COO?”

Sukuna eyed Gege like a particularly annoying ant. "Are you done?"

Gege was absolutely not done.

"Can I write your villain origin story?"

Sukuna sighed. "Stop talking."

Gege scribbled notes. "THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT A VILLAIN WOULD SAY."

Gojo leaned back, smirking. "Looks like I’m not the only one inspiring doomed yaoi."

Geto was on the verge of homicide. “For the last time, that’s not what it’s called.”

And so, the interview ended in absolute failure.

Haibara, completely unbothered, just kissed Gojo again, who giggled like a schoolgirl.

But at least Gege was staying, already outlining their next tragic yaoi novel with Sukuna and a cryptid cat as the main characters.

Yes, they were the cryptid cat.

A/N: There we have it. I have no brain cells left. Gojo has won. HR has collapsed. Nanami is rethinking every life choice. And Choso is sleeping with Kashimo for some reason. I should stop. I should mark this fic Complete. But should I? I leave it in your hands. Drop a comment. Fight in the reblogs. Make HR proud. PS: If you've read this far, you are braver than half this company’s executive board. Now I'm officially out of ideas for this fic so lmk if you get any and help a girl out.

All Works Masterlist

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Hermitcraft/Life Series AU Masterpost

This is... what it says on the tin. Basically, any AU I have that I've talked about on tumblr, is here. It is a long post.

Many of these (most of them) were made in collaboration with @angeart which explains why they are so sad and also Mostly Scarian. It doesn't always say it's shipping but it usually is. We are Grian Girlies. Sorry.

If you want to hear more about ANY of the ideas listed here, feel free to shoot me an ask :) I LOVE RANTING ABOUT THESE IDEAS. There are even links to fics where they exist.

It begins... below the cut:

COMMS AU

READ THE FIC HERE

WHAT THE HELL IS COMMS AU?

My main multichapter fic, ongoing and insane (currently chapter 41)

A multiverse nonsense trip wrapped in an audio transcript format

Tag: #comms au

Grumbo Apocalypse Monster AU

READ THE FIC HERE

Grian is a shapeshifting monster drawn into human life by the apocalypse, and Mumbo is a human who attempts to survive the horrors

Tumblr Masterpost

Tag: #grumbo apocalypse monster au

Superheroes and Villains AU

In the city of Blackstone, vigilante HotGuy works alongside the Hero Bureau to catch villains and keep the city safe.

Between trying to save the person behind Mother Spore, and rebuilding his old friendship with Cub - now turned villain - HotGuy must look through the gaps of the Hero Bureau to see the corruption lurking within.

Read the summary here

Tag: #hhvau

Hybrid Farms AU

READ THE FIC HERE

Hybrids are farmed as food; modern world, no respawn

Grian is an escaped hybrid who gets caught stealing from Mumbo's house in the middle of the night

Tag: #hybrid farms au

Watcher Listener Lore AU

READ THE FICS HERE

CW: major character death

Based on my Watcher Lore

In which Grian is killed at the end of Evo and his code and memories are placed into a Watcher version of him, creating a Watcher-Vessel in a process called ‘Transfer’

Mostly about both the grief of Grian’s old friends as they discover what happened to him, and the ethical / philosophical debate Grian has with himself about who he is and why people are upset about it - he's the ship of theseus as a person

Second installment follows BigB as a Listener-Vessel and how his point of view works in comparison to Grian's

Tag: #watcher listener lore au

Pirate Boatem AU

READ THE FIC HERE

Pirate crew Boatem get kicked off their ship and stranded on a desert island by Captain Scar

Survival cannibalism & some major character death, as a treat

Impulse's POV

Magic / curse stuff with an ambiguous ending

Tag: #boatem pirate au

Fantasy AU (Kingdoms AU)

READ THE FIC HERE

A fantasy au following several key stories:

Pearl, ambassador for Roost, the avian commune, embarks on a journey to a inter-kingdom social event hosted in the Red Kingdom, while looking for her closest friend who has been missing for years

Grian, a cursed avian, and Mumbo, a blind engineer / alchemist, join forces with outlaw necromancer Scar to try and find a cure for Grian's curse

Scott, prince of the Ocean Kingdom, longs for a life outside his duties, but is made to represent his kingdom at the inter-kindom event

Ren, king of the Red Kingdom, looks to strengthen his borders as he grows increasingly paranoid, while Martyn, the newest member of his court, crushes hard

Masterpost

Tag: #kingdoms au

Ari AU

Part One - which links to all of the other parts of the story we have posted so far!

An au which follows Grian as the popstar 'Ari', whose life begins to fall apart due to stalkers, paparazzi, mental health decline, and a lot of complicated emotions

This au covers somewhat realistic descriptions of dark and distressing topics, mind the warnings and read with care

Tag: #ari au

Convexian Serial Killers AU

Scar and Cub (humans) are serial killers who enact their crimes while their housemate, Grian (avian), is out of town

Grian happens to come home early one time and finds them mid-kill

After a series of breakdowns and a lot of throwing up, Grian gets kind of into it. There is also cannibalism

Tag: #convexian serial killer au

Convexian Cannibalism AU

READ THE FICS HERE

A bunch of oneshots, mostly set in the same universe, revolving around Grian getting eaten and eating people - mainly Cub and Scar

Also in this series are some fics about Martyn, but those are unrelated to the main storyline

Main Headcanons

Tag: #convexian cannibalism au

Hermit359 AU

Based loosely on the podcast Wolf359

A Sci-Fi drama following a wacky silly crew on a doomed journey in the vast expanse of space

Predicted Mumbo Thee Jumbo turning himself into a computer badly

Masterpost

Tag: #hc359 au

Mumscarian Murder Cannibalism AU

Basically, Scar is a fucked up little guy who kills for fun, and Grian makes the mistake of going camping with him and getting his stupid self kidnapped

This is a really big AU that I have posted one (1) piece of art for and basically nothing else... but eventually there will be some more

Tag: #murder cannibalism au

OFF AU

Based on the game OFF

Grumbot gets so mad about his dads divorce that he goes insane and makes a fake gamer universe

Technically a fix-it for the plot of OFF, but it is still sad

Mini Fic

Tag: #hermitcraft off au

Forgetting Something AU

Grian gets zapped by Listeners and dies (and everyone forgets he exists)

I just enjoyed this concept too much

Mini Fic

Tag: #forgetting something au

Grian Dies And Gets Brought Back AU

Grian, Scar's wife, dies, but Scar makes a deal with some deities to bring her back

Unfortunately for Scar, the deal involves making sacrifices to the deities in their realm, a place he calls the 'magic realm' but is actually more like hell

Grian is a worm at one point

Mini Fic

Tag: #doomed afterlife au

Good Luck, Babe! AU

Grian is a tfem club dancer, Scar is a repressed fool, Mumbo is a genderqueer bisexual in the background doing a thumbs up emote

Tag: #good luck babe au

AAAND THATS IT. I have a lot of other AUs but since I haven't talked about those on tumblr or made fics, they're staying in my dms for now lol.

Remember, if you wanna know more about any of these, please send an ask, and specify which AU youre asking about obviously! If you read this far I am honestly shocked at your ability to put up with That Many scarian ideas.

Also feel free to riff on any of these if one stands out to you as interesting. I love hearing / seeing other people's interpretations of my stuff :D

[nanamiskentos]

dearest pookiekuna,

it has been an eternity without tumblr and i can feel myself disintegrating into tiny space particles…..only if you tell me which jjk man is suited for/reminds you of which character from the boys will i be saved…..

me and kash moodboard <3

anyway! to answer ur question, i did think long and hard abt this. so without further ado...

JJK x THE BOYS

gojo = homelander because they're both the strongest in their worlds and they know abt it. both charismatic and a bit terrifying (esp if u don't know gojo and ur in a fight) and got god complexes (u can pry arrogant!gojo right outta my dead hands). except u know, gojo's not actually a cunt and he's got a genuine sense of justice and empathy. but if it was corrupt!gojo, then ouhhhhhh...

geto = butcher. now HEAR me out. they once believed in a good cause but they became disillusioned and turned against the system. had a tragic fall due to personal loss. a pretty extreme hatred for certain groups (geto wants to wipe out non sorcerers and butcher wants to wipe out supes)

choso = kimiko. my beautiful pookies. they're tragic and super powerful, but an emotional heart. sole focus on protecting their families (with their brothers). the type of characters with quiet and intense rage that can explode...and fiercely loyal. and both were experimented on and owe their powers/persona to that.

nanami = mother's milk (my man...mm) because they're definitely family guys, level-headed, no-nonsense type of folk. the way that nanami's sorta understanding of geto is the way that mm is sorta understanding of butcher. tired, so tired. strong moral compass and wants to protect the kids/youth.

sukuna = soldier boy. YASSS see because they're both legends from the past that come back to haunt the strongest (aka gojo/homelander). brutal, sadistic a bit and they do love some violence and care about the 'honour' in a fight, and warfare.

[iydiamartinx]

FLAMES OF STARLIGHT

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

Pairing: Poly!Azriel x OC x Lucien

I'm still learning Tumblr and I just found out scheduled posts are a thing! I think I'll schedule the chapters for Monday, Wednesday and Friday until everything is caught up to my A03 account? Unless y'all prefer Friday, Saturday and Sunday?

Also I noticed someone blogging who knew me from Wattpad! Hi! I'm glad you found me again! For my readers who remember me from Wattpad, the reason I disappeared was because they removed my account. I lost most of my stories, so for any of you that were a fan of my other works, only this and Morning After Dark. But I am working on slowly rewriting some of my old works.

 ❝ 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 

𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦. ❞

— 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐳

VAL STRODE DOWN the snow and dirt-trodden road with purpose. Despite her aching bones, she kept their pace to a brisk walk. Feyre easily kept in step beside her while Nesta and Elain trailed behind them, clicking their tongues in disgust as they sneered down at their now muddied shoes.

The silence that Val and Feyre walked in was comfortable compared to the complaining Nesta and Elain did behind them. The wolf's pelt was folded safely in the satchel Feyre carried. It was the only reason Nesta and Elain even bothered to tag along, hoping to persuade Feyre into giving them some money. They knew better than to ask Val. She wasn't one to indulge their needless urge for finery. But Feyre, as the youngest, was less steadfast than Val and, as such, sometimes felt the need to concede to their demands. 

Eventually, the grim stone houses of the village came into view. It was market day, and despite not even reaching the small town square yet, she could hear the voices of merchants, vendors, and shoppers. 

The scent of hot food invaded Val's nose, and she had to suppress her groan. Elain, however, had no qualms of letting out a hungered moan. Val's stomach clenched. She longed for a proper meal, but quickly she tamped down that desire. Desire could be a dangerous thing. 

Val turned around the corner only to suddenly halt. Nesta, from behind her, let out a slight noise as she placed a hand on Val's shoulder to steady herself from the sudden stop. Val paid her sister no mind, her eyes on the pale-robed young woman and the matching cluster behind her. 

"May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters," She said. 

Both Elain and Nesta made a noise of displeasure, even Feyre shifted in discomfort, but Val remained silent. She didn't particularly care for the Children of the Blessed, but it didn't mean she liked them either. Their devotion to the fae unnerved her, and their persistence to convert was annoying, but otherwise, they were all harmless preachers. 

 "Have you a moment to spare so that you might hear the Word of the Blessed?" The young woman questioned. She held out her hands in welcome, the bracelet of silver bells on her wrist letting out a tinkling chime. 

"Not at the moment," Val replied neutrally. At the same moment, Nesta sneered with much more hostility, "No, we don't." 

Nesta nudged both Val and Elain to continue walking, and Feyre shifted to follow. 

The acolyte, however, stepped back into their path and a surge of annoyance went through Val at the woman's persistence. 

"It would take but a minute," She tried to persuade. 

"We really don't have the ti—" Val tried to say, but it was already too late. 

Nesta straightened up, glaring down at the acolyte. She cut Val off, "Go spew your fanatic nonsense to some ninny. You'll find no converts here," She snapped, making the woman shrink back. 

Yet, Nesta wasn't done as she pushed down the sleeve of her coat to reveal the iron bracelet she wore. The acolyte gasped in horror. 

Val glanced up to the dreary sky as if somehow she would find help among the grey clouds. All she wanted was a quick trip, in and out of the market, but it seemed even that was too much to ask for. 

"You see this?" Nesta hissed, taking a step forward, to which the woman matched by taking one back, "This is what you should be wearing. Not some silver bells to attract those faerie monsters."

"How dare you wear that vile affront to our immortal friends—" The acolyte started, but Nesta cut her off. 

"Go preach in another town," She spat. Val gently tugged Nesta slightly back, so she wasn't right in the poor woman's face.

"I suggest you find someone else because clearly, we are not interested," Val's tone was soft yet firm.

Just then, two women walked by, on the wealthier class by the looks of it, both shooting the group of acolytes a disgusted glance.

"Faerie-loving whore," One of them spat at the silent young woman.

The other, who looked even wealthier judging from the braided iron necklace she wore, curled her lip in disgust, "Don't you idiots understand what those monsters did to us for all those centuries? What they still do for sport when they can get away with it? You deserve the end you'll meet at faerie hands. Fools and whores, all of you." 

Val just sighed. Like her opinion about the children of the blessed, she remained indifferent about her thoughts of the Fae folk. She'd never met them, nor did she want to. However, if she did, she'd assume they were quite similar to humans. Some would be good, and some would be bad. After all, there had been some who had fought for the humans when the time came.

The young woman just took a breath, her face smoothening back out into a serene expression, "I lived in such ignorance, too, until I heard the Word of the Blessed. I grew up in a village so similar to this—so bleak and grim. But not one month ago, a friend of my cousin went to the border as our offering to Prythian—and she has not been sent back. Now she dwells in riches and comfort as a High Fae's bride, and so might you if you were to take a moment to—"

"She was likely eaten," Nesta, once again, cut off bluntly. 

Val found herself refraining from pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation—yet there was a small part of her that wanted to snort in amusement, but she buried that part of herself deep down. She just wanted to get the pelt to the marketplace and leave. 

Her sister added, "That's why she hasn't returned."

Val watched as the acolyte's face tightened. "Our benevolent masters would never harm us. Prythian is a land of peace and plenty. Should they bless you with their attention, you would be glad to live amongst them." 

Her eyes shifted around them to see that they were garnering a crowd. It seemed that she and Feyre had the same idea as Val looped her arm with Nesta's—ready to forcefully drag her off if needed—while Feyre stepped between them and the woman. 

"You're fighting an uphill battle," Feyre said. 

"A worthy cause." The girl beamed with conviction.

Val sighed, her words grim and tired as she replied, "No, it's not." With that, she gently tugged Nesta along, Feyre and Elain following with their own sighs of relief. 

Val could feel the acolytes' gaze burn into her back, but she refused to turn back. Nesta walked stiffly beside her, her arm still looped with Val's. Val gave Nesta's arm a subtle squeeze in comfort, and her twin glanced over at the gesture, but Val kept her eyes firmly ahead of her. Slowly Nesta relaxed, accepting her sister's comforting touch. 

Once at the square, Val removed her arm from Nesta's, and Feyre once again moved to Val's side. 

"We'll meet you here in an hour," Feyre said to the other two, and before they could say anything, she and Val slipped into the crowd. 

It took ten minutes for Val and Feyre to decide who they should approach. Their eyes scanned the different people that milled around until a large mountainous woman caught Val's eye. She sat on the ledge of the fountain, keeping to herself. It wasn't her size that attracted Val's attention but the numerous scars and weapons that littered her body. 

Feyre's eyes followed Val's gaze, and she slightly nodded in agreement. As the two of them approached, the woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she realized they were walking towards her wickedly sharp knife with appreciation before meeting the woman's dark eyes fearlessly. 

"I don't barter goods for my services," She said in a rough tone. A foreign accent coated her words, making her words sound even gruffer, "I only accept coin."

 "Then you'll be out of luck in this sort of place," Val responded cooly, her head tilting slightly as she continued her appraisal of the woman in front of her. 

The woman slightly straightened up, her eyes narrowing even further at Val. Like recognized like, and the mercenary had been around long enough to spot a predator, and despite Val's malnourished frame, the woman recognized Val for what she could be. "What is your business with me, girl?"

This time it was Feyre who spoke, "We have a wolf pelt, and a doe hide for sale. We thought you might be interested in purchasing them."

"You two steal them?"

"No." Feyre denied, her voice going hard at the question, "I hunted them myself. I swear it."

The mercenary's gaze shifted over to Feyre. "How." It wasn't a question but a demand. Val felt herself slightly bristle at the woman's tone, but she remained silent. 

Despite Feyre having just hunted, Val was itching for her own hunt. Unlike Feyre, who did it out of necessity, Val found it oddly calming. Val hated taking an innocent animal's life, and she found no joy in that part. What she liked was the freedom in the woods as she tracked her prey. Those few seconds of predatory focus as she drew her bow back, she loved it. It was freeing. 

It helped quiet the years of anger and pain that festered in her heart. The same anger she suppressed for the sake of her sisters because if she let it all go, she had no idea of the destruction she could cause.

Val continued her silence, letting Feyre tell the story of how she acquired the pelts. Val grew tense as she heard Feyre's suspicions of the wolf being a Fae, but she just clenched her jaw, making a note to talk to her sister about it later. 

The mercenary gestured towards the satchel, "Let me see," She ordered. Feyre pulled out the hides. "You weren't lying about the wolf's size," The mercenary murmured, running her hands over it as she studied it with a keen expert eye. "Doesn't seem like a faerie, though."

The mercenary looked back up, her eyes glancing between Feyre and Val, and for a brief second, they flicked to look at something over their shoulders before focusing back on Feyre. She named her price. 

Both Feyre and Val froze in shock. They hadn't expected that. The woman was overpaying by a lot. 

"Why?" Val questioned suspiciously. 

For a brief second, the mercenary's lips twitched at Val's brazenness before once again looking past them, "I'm assuming those two girls watching from across the square are your sisters," She said, "You all have that brassy hair—and that hungry look about you." 

Val knew she didn't share her sister's golden brown hair, but it didn't take a genius to see the resemblance she had with them.  

"We don't need your pity," Feyre glared. 

No, but we could use the money, Val thought, and the mercenary echoed her thoughts.

"No, but you need my money," She said, "and the other traders have been cheap all morning. Everyone's too distracted by those calf-eyed zealots bleating across the square." She jerked her chin towards the square, where the Children of the Blessed were still trying to recruit people to their cause in vain. This time the mercenary didn't bother hiding the small smile, "Up to you, girl."

Val was about to agree, but Feyre spoke first, "Why?" It wasn't laced with suspicion like when Val asked, just curiosity. 

She shrugged. "Someone once did the same for me and mine, at a time when we needed it most. Figure it's time to repay what's due."

Of course, Feyre, her darling sister who could be too kind and proud for her own good—despite what she might say—offered the mercenary some of their father's carvings in a way to make the payment fairer. 

However, the mercenary waved off the offer. "I travel light and have no need for them. These, however—" She patted the pelts in her hands, "—save me the trouble of killing them myself."

Val nodded, and Feyre copied her actions. The mercenary reached for the coin purse inside her heavy coat. Val didn't need to look inside to see that it was full of silver and even gold. 

It was a known fact that mercenaries were generally well-paid, and Val had thought about becoming one of them as the days grew harder on her family. It was better than some of the things she'd done to bring coin to the table, and she found the thought of becoming a mercenary frequented her brain more often as the years grew worse. 

The only thing that stopped her, however, was her sisters. She didn't think she could leave them for months at a time. The pain she'd find a way to push through, but the thought of leaving her sisters was a different kind of pain. Val needed them. They were all she had, and the thought of being alone...a hollow pit formed in her stomach, and she pushed the thought away before she could dwell on it. 

The mercenary handed Val the coins, who tucked them into her pocket. Val knew Elain and Nesta saw the transaction, but they wouldn't pester her as they would with Feyre, hence why she had taken the coins. 

"Thank you," Feyre said stiffly, while Val just nodded. 

The mercenary stroked the wolf pelt. "A word of advice, from one hunter to another."

Both Val and Feyre looked at her, raising an eyebrow. 

"Don't go far into the woods. I wouldn't even get close to where you were yesterday. A wolf this size would be the least of your problems. More and more, I've been hearing stories about those things slipping through the wall."

Feyre lightly shuddered, "Are they—are they going to attack?"

Plans were already forming in Val's mind if that were the case. She may not outright hate the fae, but she wasn't stupid. She knew the stories of the High Lords who had taken humans as slaves. Killed and tortured her kind as sport. It may have been centuries ago, but Val wouldn't risk the chance of that happening to her family if the fae ever decided to go back on the treaty.

The mercenary's face gave nothing away, "No one knows what the fae are planning. We don't know if the High Lords' leash on their beasts is slipping or if these are targeted attacks. I guarded for an old nobleman who claimed it had been getting worse these past fifty years. He got on a boat south two weeks ago and told me I should leave if I was smart. Before he sailed off, he admitted that he'd had word from one of his friends that in the dead of night, a pack of martax crossed the wall and tore half his village apart."

Fear filled Val, not for herself but for her sisters. Her instincts screamed at her to take them as far south as possible if that were the case. 

"Martax?" Feyre breathed, voice laced with the same fear rushing through Val's veins.

The mercenary's night-dark eyes flickered. "Body big as a bear's, head something like a lion's—and three rows of teeth sharper than a shark's. And mean—meaner than all three put together. They left the villagers in literal ribbons, the nobleman said." 

She continued, "So we don't know what all these attacks mean, other than more hires for me, and you keeping well away from the wall. Especially if the High Fae start turning up—or worse, one of the High Lords. They would make the martax seem like dogs."

Val's eyes drifted to the woman's scarred hands. "Have you ever faced another type of faerie?" She couldn't help but ask. 

Her eyes shuttered. "You don't want to know, girl—not unless you want to be hurling up your breakfast."

"Tell me," Val demanded, her voice hard. 

The woman studied Val for a second before pulling back the sleeve of her heavy jacket to reveal her tanned, muscled forearm marred with gruesome, twisted scars. Val swallowed harshly but felt no disgust. Scars told stories, the stories of survivors. Anyone who survived had scars. Even Val had scars. She believed they were something to be proud of, no matter how horrible the story that came with it was because, at the end of it, they could say they survived.

"Didn't have the brute force or size of a martax," The mercenary said, "but its bite was full of poison. Two months—that's how long I was down; four months until I had the strength to walk again." She then pulled up the leg of her trousers. Black spidery veins contrasted against the tanned skin. It was almost mesmerizingly horrific to see. "Healer said there was nothing to be done for it—that I'm lucky to be walking with the poison still in my legs. Maybe it'll kill me one day. Maybe it'll cripple me. But at least I'll go knowing I killed it first."

Feyre placed a hand on Val's shoulder, her face unnaturally pale, "Thanks for the warnings," She said tightly.

The mercenary's attention flicked to something behind them, and a faint smile of amusement curled at her lips. "Good luck."

A second later, a slender hand clamped onto Val's forearm, pulling her and Feyre away. Neither of them had to look to know it was Nesta, no villager would dare touch them, especially with Val around, and Elain was too gentle and timid to even approach them while they were with that mountain of a woman. 

"They're dangerous," Nesta hissed, her fingers dug into Val's arms as she continued to pull tug her and Feyre from the mercenary. "Don't go near them again."

"Let me go," Val quietly demanded, not appreciating being manhandled. In an instant, Nesta let go. Val's eyes narrowed as she studied her twin and Elain's pale face, "Is there something I should know?"

"They're brutes and will take any copper they can get, even if it's by force," Nesta said, trying to wave it off. 

Val glanced back at the mercenary studying her new pelts, "She robbed you?" Val questioned, her voice dangerously quiet. 

"Not her," Elain murmured. "Some other one who passed through. We had only a few coins, and he got mad, but—"

"Why didn't you report him—or tell us?" Feyre questioned. 

"What could you have done?" Nesta sneered. "Challenged him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?"

"What about your Tomas Mandray?" Feyre challenged coolly. 

Nesta's eyes flashed, but a glance over Feyre's shoulder had her attitude taking a complete turn as her glare melted into a sickly sweet smile. "Your friend is waiting for you."

Val turned just in time to see Isaac tilting his head at Feyre. Val's jaw clenched. It wasn't that she didn't like Isaac, but Feyre deserved more than a quick rut in a barn. Feyre, out of all of them, deserved more and Val wished that one day her sister would experience love to its truest extent, but for now, if Isaac eased the loneliness Feyre felt, then Val wouldn't say a word. 

Sometimes, Val wished she could do the same thing. It wasn't that she had a shortage of admirers. She was quite aware of the beauty she and her sisters possessed, especially Elain—perhaps that was why Nesta was so protective over their younger sister. Yet, anytime the thought would come, the ring around her neck felt heavier and changed her mind. She wasn't ready. She didn't think she'd ever be ready. 

Nesta clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. "I do hope you two are taking precautions."

"It's a bit late to pretend to care," Feyre snapped back. 

Val placed a calming hand on Feyre's arm, drawing her youngest sister's attention towards her. "Go," Val said gently, nodding to where Isaac had disappeared. She couldn't help the slight, sly smirk that crawled onto her lips. She may not approve of the boy, but she remembered what it was like to be young. "Have some fun."

A slight blush dusted Feyre's cheeks, but the younger girl gave Val a grateful look before walking off. Val then turned towards her remaining sisters. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty-mark copper. Ignoring Elain's sharp inhale, she handed it over. 

"I'll meet you guys back at home," Val said, and without waiting for a response, she walked away. 

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banner credits: saradika-graphics & reveriesources

[peach-and-bugs]

I'm so glad someone's taking requests for YJ! But I'd like to ask for adult Misty x reader with dialogue 3 please!

💗Confessional - Misty Quigley (2021) x fem!Reader💗

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: Misty doesn't know the difference between a crush and a squish (the want to be close to someone in a friend way) and is quite surprised when she realizes the difference!

Warnings: mention of cannon death and body disposal (Adam) and alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2,385

A/N: Hello Loves! It's Misty's turn! I absolutely love Misty and she's definitely in my top three favorite characters. But honestly, she's kind of hard to write for, so I don't know how much I like this one. Fortunately, I do have more requests for her, so she isn't going away anywhere and I've got time to work more with her. This was another Yellowjackets dialogue request, so feel free to send in anything you'd like with Misty or another one of the girls with one of the prompts! but as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading 💗

Misty Quigley Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💗-

Misty entered her house with a rather loud sigh and a crash from the slamming of her backdoor. She practically threw her groceries on the counter, mumbling under her breath as she left them be to get something to drink from her fridge. She said fuck it and cracked open a coke, taking one long swig before setting it back on the counter and returning to the grocery bags. However, she was interrupted once again by a knock at her front door that had Caligula squawking. He must have been frustrated by all the interruptions as well. She grumbled again and maneuvered through her house to the door, opening it with far more vigor than she’d intended to. She was startled to find you at her door at this hour and she seemed to have startled you as well.

“y/n! I wasn’t expecting you,” she forced with a shiny smile. You chuckled, relaxed, and smiled as well. Misty had known you for quite some time now, however, most of that time had been spent over online citizen detective forums and eventually texting and phone calls before you finally met up in a local coffee shop a month or so ago. After that, you’d kept in pretty regular contact. Shed decided recently that she liked you. And considering that Caligila had gotten comfortable with you holding and petting him quite quickly you must be a good pick after all. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop in so suddenly but you'd been so quiet lately and I dunno, I got worried,” you grew shy as you gave her your reasoning, absently brushing loose hair behind your ear. “Oh! And I brought cookies,” you added, wrinkling your nose as you smiles. Misty grinned, enjoying the concern, and shrugged.

“It’s alright, I’ve been helping my friends with something is all. Do you want to come in? I was just putting groceries away before prepping dinner,”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother-”

“Nonsense!” she chirped, reaching out her hand to take yours and tug you inside. She managed to take your purse from your shoulder and hang it on one of the free hooks by her door. “I’ll cook for us and we can catch up. What have the forums been talking about? I haven't had the time to read any of them,” she fibbed as she made her way into the kitchen with you trailing behind. She flicked on the small radio on her kitchen windowsill to whatever random radio station she'd been listening to previously. 

“Oh! Did you hear about that Adam guy on the news? Some people online have been looking into that. It looks like someone could have been behind him going missing,” Misty had to refrain from physically cringing at that comment, seeing as how she’d just come home from the dead man’s apartment and the funeral in which she eliminated the crucial parts of his identification. 

“Pfft, that case? That’s going nowhere. He probably just hopped on a boat and is across the world by now. I bet something will come out about money laundering or something eventually,” she flat-out fibbed as she pulled carrots and celery out of her grocery bags to put them into her fridge while you stood awkwardly holding your plate of cookies in hand.

“Um ok,” you mumbled “Well, is there anything I can do to help you? I wouldn’t want to just stand in the way,” you chuckled nervously. Why you found so nervous Misty couldn’t tell, but there seemed to be a strange feeling in the kitchen's air, one she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But she smiled again and looked down at her grocery bags, holding her hands in the air and wiggling her fingers as she contemplated what she could have you do. 

“Ah! Why don’t you give those to me and start boiling some water while I finish unpacking this, hm,” she suggested as she began digging through one of the paper bags, to pull out a newly bought bag of spaghetti noodles which she offered to you in exchange for the plate in your hands. After a second you initiated the exchange and made your way to the stove as Misty pulled out a pot for you to boil. 

You scooted around each other in the small space as you filled the pot and she continued organizing her groceries. Every few seconds your hand would brush against the small of her back so naturally that she might not have noticed, so when she needed to move past you she’d gently cup your hip, though it was more like her hand hovering over you. Even so, she still thought she could feel the prickling of your skin under her touch. It was endearing, she realized, to have that sort of effect on someone, though that's how friends were supposed to make each other feel. So, you were her friend now. That was nice. 

“How much of this do you want me to make?” you asked her as you opened the bag. 

“Just dump it all in there. I can eat the rest over the week for my lunches at work,” she decided as she pulled the ingredients she wanted to use for her sauce and meatballs. She had leftover sauce from when she’d made it before at a far larger portion size than she had intended to that was still good and she pulled out some of the new ground beef she’d bought along with bread crumbs, eggs, garlic, and an assortment of other spices. 

She began organizing her ingredients before rolling out her meatballs, but before any of that, she got her sauce back on the stove to warm up next to you in a large saucepan. She casually checked on the noodled, which you were salting and they seemed to be coming along quite nicely. She moved back to her meatballs as her sauce was going by you with a lid on, but as she made the last part of the meal she couldn’t notice that strange feeling again. 

She wasn’t sure who it could be coming from, if not from the both of you, but something other than the smell of dinner was in the air. The strangest part was how it was such a comforting feeling to Misty. There was something so natural about having you in her kitchen with her. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seemed to make many friends into her adulthood, besides her high school friends, of course, though they didn’t seem to talk much anymore. Could it just be that you were here and interested in being with her? You had come to check on her when she’d been quiet after all. That had to be it then. 

She tossed the meatballs into the now boiling sauce to cook. She stood next to you awkwardly for a moment before reaching over you for a ladle to scoop some of your pasta water to add to her sauce, which she stirred around. You unexpectedly moved to take the ladle from her, accidentally taking hold of her hand in the process. She noticed the way your eyes widened eyes dilating for a moment or so, which she found quite curious. She tuned in long enough to realize what song was now playing. It was one her mother used to play when she was a child. 

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

Her eyes scanned over your face. You bit your bottom lip, taking it into your mouth

I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night

I love you, baby, trust in me when I say:

She let go of the ladle and smiled. 

“I need to go feed Caligula and get the table ready,” she said quickly, taking a step back from you. She turned on her heels and rushed far faster than she had intended out of the kitchen and into her lounge and to her bird’s cage. He squealed quietly and Misty smiled, opening the door to the cage and petting the bird’s head. He cooed, shitting his eyes as he nuzzled into the palm of her hand. 

“Caligula, do you have any idea what’s going on with me?” she murmured as the bird climbed on her hand, up her arm, and onto her shoulder as she went to throw away the uneaten food in his dish and refill it for dinner. He began messing with her hair, preening her as he always did at dinnertime. Misty craned her neck to peek into the kitchen, quietly watching as you walked across the room to find plates and utensils and a strainer for the noodles. 

Misty finished refreshing Caligula’s dinner, coaxing the bird back into his cage to eat and she shut the door behind him. She moved on into the dining room, still keeping an eye on you. As she did, she opened a drawer and found an old candle setting along with a lighter she’d never gotten around to using. She figured out why not and arranged the setting, as well as two table placements on the table, dimming the overhead lighting as you walked in with two full plates. 

You paused at the dining room’s entryway, staring at the candles and the table settings placed one at the head of the table and the other directly diagonal to it on the long end of the table. When you didn’t move Misty took the plaits from you and set them both down before trotting off into the kitchen. 

“Now, I have a pinot noir, but I’ve also got a cabernet sauvignon that is just divine!” she allied from the kitchen. You didn’t reply as she rummaged through her cabinets for two glasses. You hadn’t moved from where you stood just yet and noticed after looking back. “y/n, you alright?” she asked, tilting her head with curiosity. You perked up at the sound of your name and skirted to take your seat at the table. 

“Oh! Um, you made the cabernet sauvignon sound very good,” you answered in a rushed attempt at sounding normal that Misty didn’t quite pick up on. She grabbed what she was told, along with a wine opener, and made her way back to the table. She stood as she opened the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each a glass, which you tentatively grabbed, and took a few confident sips as Misty took her seat and her fork to dig in. You paused for a moment, messing with your hands in your lap before eating. 

“Misty, I have a confession,” you started, not looking up from your hands. 

“Well, it better not be to a murder because I can’t deal with that right now,” she answered back without the skip of a beat. You looked up, quite puzzled, and scrunched your brow.

“Um, I’m sorry, what?” you asked, nose wrinkling. Misty fully looked up and finished what she was chewing, covering her mouth with her hand as she realized your reaction. 

“Oh! No, I just mean I’ve been a little stressed lately is all, but I'm only joking, I promise!” she could tell she hadn’t recovered well at all as she could practically feel the way you cringed and clenched your teeth, pulling back from her, eyes refusing to meet hers. Had you always been this shy with her? You sighed, pulling her from her thoughts.

“You know what, this was a bad idea. I need to go,” you said rather rushed as she had moments prior. Before she had time to react you'd left your seat and headed back to the front door. Misty heard the jingle of your keys and the click of her front door before she got up, frantically wiping her mouth with her napkin. 

“y/n?” she called, watching you slip out the door before she began to sprint in its direction. By the time she made it to the door, you’d made your way down her front steps and were headed to her car. “y/n!” she yelled fully now, a strained crack in her voice. You stopped in your tracks, fearing the attention she might bring but it gave her enough time to grab onto your hand tight and stop you. Adrenaline had started pumping in a way that felt like fear, but of what she couldn’t pinpoint. 

“y/n, did I do something,” she asked quickly, her eyes frantically searching her face. You seemed startled by the sudden desperation in her grasp and her voice and you bit your lip, your brown scrunching as you frowned but shook your head. 

“No, it’s just stupid,” Misty squeezed your hand and reached up to turn your cheek to look at her. 

“No it’s not, tell me. I promise whatever it is it's not stupid. I’d never find anything you say stupid,” she insisted. You met her eyes finally and sighed with defeat. 

“I was going to ask you on a date,” you said in what could only be described as a whisper. Misty perked up, confused. 

“A date?” she questioned. She felt your cheek burn under her fingertips. 

“Yes! A date! I know it's silly, and I’m acting like a child but,” Misty grinned, vibrating with excitement. 

“I’d love a date with you!” she exclaimed. 

“What?” you were the confused one now.

“I didn’t know you liked me,” Misty mused, practically purring.

“Well, yes I’ve always liked you-” you started. 

“But I mean I didn’t know you liked me,” she reiterated, accentuating what she meant. You grew shy again. 

“Well, I didn’t know either but I got so nervous with the cooking and the candles,” 

“Then this can be our date!” Misty decided. 

“Really?” you chuckled under your breath. She’d gotten you to laugh and that was even more exciting than getting asked on a date. 

“Yes! I’d love to take you back in and on our date,” you chuckled again (she got you to laugh again!) and nodded. Misty eagerly led you back inside and realized just what she must have been feeling before after all. 

[lesmisletters-daily]

The Death Of A Horse

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.3.8

“The dinners are better at Édon’s than at Bombarda’s,” exclaimed Zéphine.

“I prefer Bombarda to Édon,” declared Blachevelle. “There is more luxury. It is more Asiatic. Look at the room downstairs; there are mirrors [<i>glaces</i>] on the walls.”

“I prefer them [<i>glaces</i>, ices] on my plate,” said Favourite.

Blachevelle persisted:—

“Look at the knives. The handles are of silver at Bombarda’s and of bone at Édon’s. Now, silver is more valuable than bone.”

“Except for those who have a silver chin,” observed Tholomyès.

He was looking at the dome of the Invalides, which was visible from Bombarda’s windows.

A pause ensued.

“Tholomyès,” exclaimed Fameuil, “Listolier and I were having a discussion just now.”

“A discussion is a good thing,” replied Tholomyès; “a quarrel is better.”

“We were disputing about philosophy.”

“Well?”

“Which do you prefer, Descartes or Spinoza?”

“Désaugiers,” said Tholomyès.

This decree pronounced, he took a drink, and went on:—

“I consent to live. All is not at an end on earth since we can still talk nonsense. For that I return thanks to the immortal gods. We lie. One lies, but one laughs. One affirms, but one doubts. The unexpected bursts forth from the syllogism. That is fine. There are still human beings here below who know how to open and close the surprise box of the paradox merrily. This, ladies, which you are drinking with so tranquil an air is Madeira wine, you must know, from the vineyard of Coural das Freiras, which is three hundred and seventeen fathoms above the level of the sea. Attention while you drink! three hundred and seventeen fathoms! and Monsieur Bombarda, the magnificent eating-house keeper, gives you those three hundred and seventeen fathoms for four francs and fifty centimes.”

Again Fameuil interrupted him:—

“Tholomyès, your opinions fix the law. Who is your favorite author?”

“Ber—”

“Quin?”

“No; Choux.”

And Tholomyès continued:—

“Honor to Bombarda! He would equal Munophis of Elephanta if he could but get me an Indian dancing-girl, and Thygelion of Chæronea if he could bring me a Greek courtesan; for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas in Greece and in Egypt. Apuleius tells us of them. Alas! always the same, and nothing new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in creation! <i>Nil sub sole novum</i>, says Solomon; <i>amor omnibus idem</i>, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of womanhood met; she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress should be needed for Prometheus.”

Tholomyès, once started, would have found some difficulty in stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just at that moment. The shock caused the cart and the orator to come to a dead halt. It was a Beauceron mare, old and thin, and one fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very heavy cart. On arriving in front of Bombarda’s, the worn-out, exhausted beast had refused to proceed any further. This incident attracted a crowd. Hardly had the cursing and indignant carter had time to utter with proper energy the sacramental word, <i>Mâtin</i> (the jade), backed up with a pitiless cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never to rise again. On hearing the hubbub made by the passers-by, Tholomyès’ merry auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyès took advantage of the opportunity to bring his allocution to a close with this melancholy strophe:—

“Elle était de ce monde ou coucous et carrosses

Ont le même destin;

Et, rosse, elle a vécu ce que vivant les rosses,

L’espace d’un mâtin!”

“Poor horse!” sighed Fantine.

And Dahlia exclaimed:—

“There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses. How can one be such a pitiful fool as that!”

At that moment Favourite, folding her arms and throwing her head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyès and said:—

“Come, now! the surprise?”

“Exactly. The moment has arrived,” replied Tholomyès. “Gentlemen, the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has struck. Wait for us a moment, ladies.”

“It begins with a kiss,” said Blachevelle.

“On the brow,” added Tholomyès.

Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress’s brow; then all four filed out through the door, with their fingers on their lips.

Favourite clapped her hands on their departure.

“It is beginning to be amusing already,” said she.

“Don’t be too long,” murmured Fantine; “we are waiting for you.”