#which is too boring to bother photographing.

[ssspringroll]

new outfits for baby boy 👏👏👏

[rosemaeridream]

hate is no better than love. | (M)

Mature content (18+)

fashion-designer!aeri x photographer!fem reader

warnings: inevitable hate fuck?, strap, bottom!aeri, top!reader, a little bit of roughhousing from both sides, intense back scratching, nude/pornographic photography, do they actaully hate each other or is the sexual tension too much???

A/N: whoever asked for this BEFORE armageddon i'm so sorry lmfao + this hasn't been beta'd mistakes will be present

word count: 4.6k

Uchinaga Aeri is not a woman you love.

She’s rich. She’s popular. She’s arrogant. She’s manipulative. She has a fucking smirk soldered onto her lips at all points of time. It’s infuriating. 

Wholly.

Completely. 

Utterly.

It makes perfect sense why Aeri isn’t your kind of person. She’s everything you’re not–both the bad and the good. 

And yet, God be damned, she’s always nearby. 

It’s not like you’re trying to seek her out. She’s studying fashion (or something you couldn’t be bothered to figure out) while you’re doing some arts degree. It didn’t matter, just as long as you weren’t in the same course.

And yet, God be fucking damned, she’s always nearby.

You’re on your way to the station, and she’s giggling with her friends behind you, somehow loud enough to pierce through the noise-cancellation of your headphones. 

You’re studying outside one of your lecture halls, waiting for your next class, and she’s checking her appearance in the window’s reflection thirty steps away.

You’re on a fucking walk at the beach, kilometres away from the university, and damned Uchinaga Aeri is there, laying back in a chair, sunglasses shielding her eyes and only clad in a bikini.

You could easily not love Aeri. Not loving just meant not caring. But when you see the woman four out of seven days a week when you have no reason or wish to; resentment stews in your gut.

Especially now, as she’s sitting down in front of you – with that stupid fucking perpetual smirk and an undescribably huge iced coffee – and closing the lid of your laptop mid-keystroke.

“What?” You break the silence between you, not at all happy that she’s here and seizing your precious study time. And you know she can tell; she’s even enjoying your irritation – it’s evident in how she rests her jawbone on her fist while lazily swirling the straw in her coffee.

“I heard from a certain somebody that you take photos.” She preens under your gaze and leans in a fraction like she’s telling you a secret. It comes off haughty; she thinks she’s better than you, and you have no idea why she’s doing it.

That’s debatable. But what isn’t debatable is that you do take photos.

“Yeah, what of it?” The jiggling of the ice in her coffee is getting too much, and you’re this close to throwing it against her head and walking out of the cafe. At least you’d get a moment of silence while she sits in shock.

“I have some outfits to model. I want a photographer.”

“Me?” You raise an eyebrow, already put out by the idea of having to take photos of her. Not that it’d be hard. She’s gorgeous, from head to toe, quite literally the definition of photogenic. Maybe that’s the problem — it’s too easy, there isn’t a challenge for you.

“Duh. You have like… good skills or whatever, Park.” Her tone turns bored and she lets go of her straw to check on her metallic-chartreuse acrylics. They’re so long those things would fucking suck to type with. Or fuck with. Or do anything but gouge out the eyes of your enemies with.

“You’ve seen my work? I’m surprised, Uchinaga; I thought you’d only ever care about leather straps and sequins.”

“Mmh. Funny… But no, I appreciate a piece of artwork when I see one.” She examines you from your hair to where your torso ends at the height of the table. Then she lifts her coffee an inch, just enough to wrap her tongue around the straw and sip. It makes an annoyingly loud slurping noise, which is a feat considering the cup is 80% full. 

To say it pisses you off is an understatement.

“I only work for a commission. $100 an hour.”

Aeri’s eyes almost bug out, the slurp stutters and you relish in the noise, pleased that you could break her intrusive behaviour. 

“A hundred. An hour? You’re literally a student.”

“I’m literally a photographer.” The itch to grab your phone and pull up your IG account to name and gloat about how much each photo is worth is immensely strong. But you’re better than Uchinaga. That’s something that she’d do.

You can’t let her win…

And you’re better than her.

“Fuck you, I could take the pictures for free.” Her nails dig into the table and you wouldn’t be surprised if there were chips in the paint when she removes them. Fuck, those things are talons. “And that’d be like wearing a Shein shirt on a runway.” You copy her signature smirk. “Get your head out of your ass, Uchinaga. You want professional quality photos; you pay the professional price.”

“$50 an hour.” And she’s fucking turned to haggling. It’s not surprising – she’s wealthy scum. If this were France in the 1800s, you’d be breaking out the guillotine right about now.

“No thanks.” You grab your phone, shoving your laptop into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Eat shit and die, Coco Chanel.”

You make it 20 steps down the street before you can hear her heels clicking on the footpath behind you. You huff, knowing she isn’t going to call out for you. No, that’s too gaudy for her. Instead, she’ll just menacingly click behind you until she inevitably catches up at a stop light – her irritatingly long legs make her stride feel like she’s an olympian and her persistence can be equated to a bloodhound.

You whirl around, knowing that her perpetual smirk will be present, even when she’s about to grovel for you to take her back. Or something. 

“I’ll pay your stupid commission.” Her tone drawls like she’s bored, but the twitch of her brow is a sure sign of her own irritation. “Tuesday, I’ll DM you the address.” 

Then she turns and strides off without a confirmation.

At the last possible moment, she swishes her hair over her shoulder, sending you a smirk so smug that only one thing is clear.

She wins.

The address she messages you ends up being an old warehouse in a former train shed. The rails are still embedded in the concrete; its steel a dirty grey from wear. There’s a lot of light in here despite the tall corrugated iron walls and high ceiling due to the skylights and high windows. Aeri sits at a makeshift desk on one side of the shed, scribbling away in some kind of notebook as she waits for you. She’s clad in a pink robe and heels – add a sleeping mask and she’d be some kind of Blair Waldorf reincarnate. 

“Uchinaga.” You grumble, finding yourself in the position she was in last week, sitting down across from her and interrupting her work. Instead of a tall iced coffee and a smirk, there’s your short coffee cup and an expectant expression. 

She looks up to you, slight bags under her eyes and a bleary redness to them. Most notably, Aeri’s missing her usual arrogant demeanour. 

“Mmhf.” She immediately goes back to her sketch. “What the shit are you here for, Park?”

It takes you everything you have not to stab her in the eye with her pencil.

“Photos. You commissioned me.”

“It’s not Tuesday. Get the fuck out of my face.” She waves a hand fleetingly like you could float away and leave her in peace if she cared more.

“It’s Tuesday.” You even check your phone, sliding it close enough to her on the table so she can see that you’re not an idiot.

15:05.  Tuesday, 25th June.

And she reads it. 

And she stills.

And it’s quiet.

Then she narrows her eyes.

“Get your shit out then, I’m not paying you more than an hour.” She slides from her stool, stalking over to a rack of clothing. Before you can even move, she lets it drop, pooling around her feet while she flicks through the pieces.

Your mouth dries up and you can’t even move, just staring at the soft sway of her hair and ass as she searches through her clothes. Her irritatingly long legs look so much longer when the only thing stopping them are lacy black panties that are most definitely out of your budget.

The only reason you pick up your jaw and start to unpack your ‘shit’ is that Aeri swivels ever so slightly so that you can see the slight turn of her lip. She’s smirking. She’s fucking smirking.

You look around the place, grateful that the natural lighting is dramatic enough in places to get some interesting images. If Aeri wants that, of course… she hasn’t exactly made it clear what she wants. You’re extra grateful that you wouldn’t have to hike back up the street to get your lighting equipment. 

As you continue to unpack, Aeri changes. The first she shimmies into is a wide legged pair of jeans with frayed and ripped holes up the thigh. It doesn’t help. Then a tube top with a baggy tank over the top. It really doesn’t help. Especially when she passes fingers through her hair and pulls it up into a messy half-up half-down style. 

You blink and she’s apparated in front of you with a hand on her hip, her acrylics curling into the denim.

“Hurry up.”

You pop an SD card into the slot then wave her away to where she wants to begin. Aeri struts over to the side of the train shed and leans against the corrugated iron.

And it starts.

Photographing Aeri is effortless. She’s far too practised in her motions and poses. Even when she gets bored and leaves without a word to change her outfit, it’s efficient. Genuinely, you might be able to get this done in under an hour which is both a relief to your sanity and her bulging wallet (even if it wouldn’t miss the $100 note).

However, as easy as this photoshoot is going, the silence is starting to get to you. 

“Too poor to get your own models?” Apparently pissing her off is the appropriate way to fill in the quiet space. Aeri scowls and you make sure to capture a photo of it. 

So? She looks good when she’s mad.

“I prefer to do it myself. I know what angles the clothes look best at.” She points, guiding you into her next pose. “And no one knows my creative vision.”

“Yet, you trust me to photograph your creative vision.” The viewfinder fogs after your last breath. You hadn’t even realised you were using it instead of the screen. It was just a natural feeling, framing her using a more analogue method felt… right. Lowering the camera from your eye to wipe the fog, you take a second to breathe.

“...Your style. It isn’t so bad.” Aeri finally answers. Then she scowls again. “You’re slacking.”

“And you have fifteen minutes left.”

She scoffs and stalks away to swap her attire.

Wiping the viewfinder again, you put it back to your eye, checking for fog. It’s gone, but all that’s left is a half naked Aeri, perfectly framed and positioned. The line of her back draws your eye to her ass which is slightly pushed out as she bends to step into a new dress. Instinctively, you take the shot.

And then another for good measure. 

“You know I can hear the shutter, perv.” Aeri turns in the viewfinder as you snap another picture. She’s in a swampy green to black gradient which compliments her nails. You figure this is what she had them done for.

“So? Maybe you’ll enjoy these more.” She prowls closer and closer until she’s out of focus and pushing your camera down.

“What, after you rub one out to them?” She sneers, her talons piercing into the skin of your hand where it circles the camera lens.

“Like I’d ever jack off to you.”

Aeri twists the camera out of your hand, opening up the previews to look back at your photos. She keys through the half naked ones, expressionless, and starts to look through the others. 

It’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking. Usually, Aeri wears her disgust on her face, never hiding when she thinks something is complete garbage. And everything is garbage to Aeri.

She grimaces once or twice but it’s never the heavy pull of the lip or the slight scrunch of her nose that you’ve learnt to associate with her disgust.

“Even I would get off on these.” She flips the camera back to you, showing off a preview of her, mouth half open, eyes lidded and hair messy from just swapping outfits.

She does, you have to admit, look like sex on a stick. Or whatever that term is.

Aeri turns, still with your camera and clicks over to a set of chic looking beanbags – however chic a beanbag could look. She lounges down, crossing a leg over the other and lazily stares up at you. 

“Hurry up. You’re wasting my time.” She dangles the camera from its strap. You move forward immediately, reaching to snatch up your camera, your precious baby, back into your hands. 

And Aeri, being the person she is, moves it out of your grasp and above her head. Sick amusement dances across her features when she locks eyes with you. 

“I told you to fetch.”

Neither of you are budging and Aeri’s a fucking immature child. A fucking spoilt immature child. You know that by the time you skirt the beanbag’s circumference, she would move the camera back to where it was before. Her limbs are too long for you to compete with, and her smirk, her damn perpetual fucking dumb fucking smirk, is back on her lips.

Both of you know that there’s only one way for you to get your camera back.

With a clenched jaw, you settle a knee on Aeri’s left side, then her right as you hover over her body to rip the camera out of her hand.

Aeri lets go too early. The camera slides through your grasp and as you focus all your attention on grabbing the strap, Aeri flips you over to pin you against the beanbag. It’s this weird twist and grab, but your baby is safe in your hand. 

“What the fuck, Uchinaga?? Do you know how goddamn expensive this camera is? It isn’t something you can just pick up at-“ The complaint is halfway out of your mouth before it’s smothered by her lips, thick and cushioned.

The kiss is unexpected, a slight moan slipping out when she moves to reposition herself. One hand at your hip, the other sliding into your hair. Her thumb brushes against the hem of your top, lifting and taking fabric along with it until there’s a dense heat branding your skin.

It’s almost nice for a moment. You almost lose yourself in the sensation. Almost.

Aeri yanks your hair downwards, taking advantage of your gasp and forcing her tongue inside. The wet muscle glides across your own, taking its time to thoroughly explore. After an extended moment, she extracts with an audible pop!, daring to stare at you like she’s just blown your mind.

“What…” You struggle to breathe as your brows pull into a frown. “The fuck?”

“You didn’t like that?.” Her tone is blasé like she’s studying her cuticles or waiting for her damn iced coffee.

It’s not a matter of whether you enjoyed it. That, you’d never give the answer to. 

“You can’t just kiss someone when they’re saying things you don’t like! How fucking immature can you be?” 

There’s half a beat of silence, then Aeri measuredly leans forward until she’s a centimetre away. It’s with a controlled precision that you hadn’t really expected. Yes, she’s a fashion major or whatever and that causes a level of elegance, but Aeri’s always been raw and nasty in your eyes.

I mean, she just kissed you, for fucks sake!

Aeri doesn’t say anything but her mouth morphs back into that stupid fucking smirk that looks too good on her lips — you understand why she does it so much but fuck is it annoying — and your stomach twists until you find yourself closing that centimetre and rolling around to push her back against the bean bag. 

You can’t think while you’re kissing her. You can’t even ask why you’re doing this because Aeri’s hiking up your shirt and throwing it on the floor somewhere. You shiver slightly at the change in temperature and her acrylics resting on your back.

She giggles at how crazed your kisses are. In the back of your mind there’s a drifting thought about how you’re proving some point of hers right. You just can’t pin it down. It was the one about… about…? Oh, nevermind. It doesn’t matter.

It especially doesn’t matter when she shoves you off her lap. Hard. It sends you tumbling back, your butt hitting the hard concrete. The impact clears your mind immediately and you send Aeri a ‘what-was-that-for?’ glare.

Aeri leans the side of her head against her palm as she lazily smirks at you. She sits like a maniacal god controlling her creation and it pisses you off. Everything she does fucking. Pisses. You. Off.

“And that one was for…?”

“You were slobbering.” Then she waves to her desk in a careless flourish. “Bottom drawer. Hurry up.”

For a second, you debate walking out of the shed. Denying Aeri’s requests would put you down on her level of bratty pettiness; it’s only natural for you to dish it back to her. Not to mention, this is pretty fucked: You hate the woman. You think she’s rich and nasty and spoiled and far too hot to behave like she isn’t one of the nine muses.

God fucking damn it.

After a moment of rubbing your butt, you push to your feet and wander to the desk. Your camera is left on top of the desk while you squat to open the drawer and yank it open.

“…”

“You are not fucking me with a strap.”

When you turn around, you’re surprisingly not facing her smirk. It’s like a lion without a mane. Instead, Aeri is sitting there looking at you like prey.

“Whoever said I was gonna be fucking you?” She curls a finger for you to come back. It’s clear that she means now. Not in a minute, not in a second. Now.

Mindlessly you grab the harness and your camera, already with the silicon attached and you meander back to her. It’s your way of fighting back, making Aeri feel some of the irritation that follows her. When you arrive, you drop the harness in her lap with a sour expression and place the camera safely on the ground next to the beanbag.

There’s a lot you could ask. Why are we about to fuck? Did you organise all this for me to fuck you? Is this weird or kinky? Why do you have a strap in the bottom drawer of your desk? Is it sanitary? 

“Why am I doing this?” You ask instead.

Aeri hangs the harness over a finger and gives you an eye to step into it.

“Because you think I’m hot and this is your chance to get laid.”

Despite the fact that you hate admitting you’ve had a lack of partners to sleep with recently, you still step into the buckles. She sinches it over your clothed thighs, amazingly efficient despite her nails. The straps are tight but you don’t really mind.

“Come on, baby.” She coaxes you back to your position on top of her and the beanbag. When you look at her rather blankly, she rolls her eyes. 

“God, you’re more idiotic than I thought. Fucking a plushie would be better than this.”

The words are a slap to your face. Although you’re still confused as to why you’re sitting on her lap, with a strap, you find yourself getting angry again. She had that strap in her drawer – just waiting. Is this a normal thing she does? That she paid you to come and fuck her?

Aeri looks fucking pretentious like this – hair mussed, stupid smirk, stupid lips – all dolled up in a horribly vapid and careless way. Her stare sends waves of anger down to your core. It roves over your body, no doubt sizing you up, prepared to dig her nails into your arteries at the first sign of weakness. 

Or maybe the first sign of arousal.

Aeri’s right. This is your chance to get laid, and this is your chance to fuck her. In the fuck you sense, not in the… well, okay in the fuck her sense too.

You hike up her dress, struggling not to make it crinkle and crease at her waist with the thought of keeping it integral for the photoshoot, you expose her upper thighs and… and…

“Those photos really made you this wet?”

It’s obscene. Purely obscene how wet her panties are. When you look up to inspect her expression, Aeri has enough shame to have a dusting of red over her cheeks.

“You narcissist.” You sneer, pushing the strap against her clothed pussy and gliding the head over her clit. It smears your arousal on the underside of the cock, creating a sheen of wet. Apparently, it feels nice enough, good enough, that Aeri clutches onto your shoulders, sinking her nails into your skin. It draws a grunt from your chest and only helps to build your irritation.

“Stop being such a whiny bitch and fuck me.” Aeri tugs your shoulders, ensuring that her lips brush the cup of your ear while she whispers. 

Funny, how she could pretend to be in control when she was holding back her moans and twitching whenever your head bumps against the swollen nub of pleasure. For good measure, you smack it against the soaked cloth twice before deciding that you could torture her better without the layer of protection.

Aeri, on the other hand, leans back. There’s a sort of dazed smile on her lips like she’s a child being rewarded for good grades or some other menial shit. Wanting to wipe the smile off her face, you buck the strap in. 

All the way in, her wet cunt filled to the brim.

She shrieks, her nails scratching harshly down your back, almost getting a line of curses from you.

“And I’m the whiny bitch? You’re the one who wanted this.” You drag your hips back, her pussy squeezing so tight that it actually takes effort.

Moans blossom out of Aeri as you start a sturdy pace, her breasts bouncing with every snap of your hips. The squelch is loud in the warehouse, almost echoing off the walls. Deciding that she deserves a treat, you lean down to suckle under the curve of her boob.

“I bet that was all an act when I arrived.” You purr against her skin. It turns pink under your touch, hot with want. “You were in that robe on purpose, just waiting for a chance to take it off.”

Aeri shakes her head, nails biting into your back. It’s hot white pain, you realise. She’s breaking through layers of skin.

Fuck, that’s filthy. Your eyes find her cunt. The ring clenching rhythmically against the strap. It’s so clear that you could almost feel it yourself. Aeri’s cunt on your cock.

“Are you gonna say something?” She’s too quiet. You’d do anything to hear her say some prissy shit into your ear. To be bratty and deny you. “Or has this dick got you acting on your best behaviour?” 

Your hands are a mess, switching between pinching and kneading her breasts, holding yourself up (or holding Aeri down), and keeping her legs spread wide open. 

Still no answer. Maybe you’ve actually won.

A laugh bubbles up and you double your efforts, making Aeri screech and claw further down your back. She’s already started to roll her hips to meet yours. It’s messy, filthy fucking. Your clothes are crumpled, bottoms stained with her juices, making them look like you’ve wet yourself.

“You just wanted me to fuck you. God, what a slut, paying $100 for a quick fix.”

Aeri shakes her head, she’s trying to fight for her composure. “You were taking pictures of me first.”

Her words bring an idea to your mind. “Because you paid, whore. You expect me to believe you didn’t want this when your pussy is this tight around me?”

The camera you had discarded next to the beanbag. You flick it on, and yank the strap out of her cunt. It flutters indiscriminately. Aeri’s hands flash down to the strap, trying to coax it back inside, her hips scooping like if she tried hard enough she could be filled again. Focusing on the wet mess of her crotch, you manage to capture a photo.

Shiny and slick, pink, swollen with want. Her hand in the corner, wrapped around your stick cock. You can’t hold back a groan. The photo is purely pornographic. 

“Look at you.” The camera is flipped, pushed into her face. “Your slutty cunt needs this.”

Aeri’s unfocused eyes take a moment to zero in on the picture. Almost immediately, they blow out along with a filthy fucking moan.

“More.” She yanks on the strap, ungracefully grinding it on her clit. “I’m fucking paying you for photos.”

Her eyes lock onto yours. “Take. More.”

She doesn’t have to ask again.

It’s clumsy from then on out. You only have one hand to keep her legs split, one hand to hold yourself up. The other is for photos.

Anytime her cunt gushes and your head gets dizzy with arousal, you line up a picture. Anytime she sucks in a moan and you smear your thumb against her clit, you line up a picture. 

She’s so pretty and pink. You’re obsessed. Even the prickling pain of her nails sinking into skin and leaving pulsing red lines aren’t enough to make you stop.

You don’t even notice when she starts to squirm, completely and utterly overstimulated.

“Park. Fucking…” A pained moan. “Stop- Hurts.”

You snap a final picture, creamy arousal dripping down onto the beanbag, a wet spot underneath, big enough that she’d have to wash the entire thing to cover it up.

Aeri pushes a foot into your stomach, forcing your centre of gravity off place and pushing you onto your butt. The strap pops out of her hole and she slaps a hand to her mouth, muffling a cry.

Her cunt is swollen, creamy and so so so pinky raw. It’s impossible for you not to scramble back to your knees, one hand already pulling her folds apart to get the best shot.

The shutter clicks and it’s stored away in the memory card forever.

Then there’s a breath of air and you loosen the harness, letting it drop to the floor. 

Hypothetically, not that you had thought about this before, you would have pushed Aeri over and found some part of her body to grind out your own orgasm on. It was only fair — 1-1.

But you don’t feel the need to. It was relieving just to get her to shut up for a moment and let you take all semblance of control. Even if it meant she was 1-0. Plus, you hadn’t even noticed when she had finally cummed on the strap.

Fucked that you were letting Aeri not pay you back. Then again, $100 was payment enough.

Oh.

Your phone is empty of notifications when you pull it from your pocket, but the time blinks back at you. 

16:07.

You can’t help the bark of laughter that falls out. It’s past the hour. Another paycheck for you.

“What are you laughing at?” Aeri’s mumbles are clear enough for you to decipher. She lifts her head just enough to let you glimpse her half-lidded eyes.

Crawling back, you shove the phone in her face.

“Seven past.” You grin. It takes a moment before she groans, sinking her head back into the beanbag.

1-1.

You win.

NOTE: is this finished? mmhhhhhhhh not really (i was gon write them fucking another round but i wasn't horny enough rah rah blah blah) goddamn it

[wing-ed-thing]

Of Frogs and Crowns (Ichiji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part I

Synopsis: You couldn't say that being engaged to a man as emotionless and serious as Ichiji didn't bother you. But after a night of sneaking out, you think you've found a quirk to humanize him a bit, and Ichiji finds that he might be in over his head. Two-Shot.

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Language, Arranged Marriage, Royal!Reader

Notes: We've been forced into a "write what your heart desires and nothing else" era

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Ichiji was Judge Vinsmoke's eldest and most beloved son. Heir to the infamous Vinsmoke legacy, no one ever thought that Judge would deem any family worthy enough to marry off even one of his dear children, let alone Ichiji. 

And yet, the news of your union reached you even before you laid eyes on him. Your family had made it abundantly clear how significant the deal they struck with the Vinsmoke family was, but in the face of your imminent marriage, the importance of the arrangement was the last thing on your mind. 

You were provided one lackluster photograph just a week before the Vinsmokes arrived at your kingdom for negotiations, and the most you could say about Ichiji was that he had a firm, sharp jaw. With his eyes covered by combat goggles, hair covering at least half his face, and his cape obscuring most of his body, the picture you were certain was meant to impress you with his military stature left much to be desired. 

Ichiji did not appear too dissimilar to his photo. Although, you considered that he looked far more handsome when you first saw him in person. Instead of the raid suit he donned in his picture, Ichiji wore a long-sleeved, white button-down with a frilled collar and an off-the-shoulder cape. His slacks were simple, and footwear nothing to note. The simple change had been for the better, you decided as you stood before him. At least now, you could actually see him. You probably could have done without the opaque glasses.

Your father presented you as you made a traditional gesture of politeness. 

“How do you do, Prince Ichiji?” you hummed, beginning to feel the stuffiness of your clothes with your movements. Under the direction of your parents, the servants paid special mind to your appearance. Even compared to your usual wear as a member of a royal family as prestigious as yours, you were made up using only the best of the best. It was a familiar ache; while unpleasant, it was not something you weren’t used to. 

Ichiji regarded you silently and stoically. He didn’t offer a gesture in return, not even a bow, as he stared you down. His lips parted, but no words came out, and perhaps if he were any other man, you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But the way the blank darkness of his glasses bored into you and the uptight manner in which he stood made you wary.

Judge and your father were already laughing together and making merry conversation like old friends. They already appeared deep in discussion about the union and what your families could do for each other. 

You glanced back at Ichiji. He held himself militantly and more like a soldier than any prince you had seen. The thought dawned on you that Ichiji wasn’t an actual prince anymore ever since Germa had been disassociated from the World Government. You considered that was the reason why the Vinsmokes were so eager to marry into a royal family. And with conflict on the horizon for your nation, you presumed that your father was just as keen on obtaining Germa’s firepower. 

You heard rumors that Germa had tried to ally with pirates in the past to no avail and wondered how purposeful they had been in choosing your modest kingdom. While your nation was among many invited to the Reverie, it was by far not the most glamorous or wealthy. Your early history was primarily rooted in farming and moderate trade, something you didn’t think Germa would be interested in. Although, your father was on good terms with some officials high amongst the world government and even a Celestial Dragon, so you assumed that in addition to regaining their royal status, Germa was most interested in that. 

“It’s a bit boring, isn’t it?” you said, accompanied by a light, nervous laugh. Ichiji barely turned to look at you, but you thought you heard a slight hum in acknowledgment. You glanced back to your fathers, who were already beginning to drift to the patio’s refreshment cart, completely forgetting their children. A few servants fussed around them with parasols, and another prepared their drinks. “All the waiting around while they talk politics.” 

Ichiji shifted slightly toward you in your peripheral.

“A member of the royal family should be in the know when it comes to their kingdom.” Ichiji straightened himself out, crossing his arms over his chest. “You should not have to be amused by it.” Your mouth fell open, your lower lip wavering with shock.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—” 

Ichiji heaved out a slight, annoyed huff. 

“We can retreat to the gardens if you’re so disinterested.” He turned on his heel, his cape fluttering behind him. 

Your eyes darted back to your occupied parents, and your head made a rapid swivel before you hurried after him.

“Prince Ichiji—!” you called tentatively, but Ichiji had already made it a distance ahead of you. You retreated deeper into the estate, crossing a small, aesthetic bridge over a tiny creak and through a maze of exotic and intricately maintained flowers. 

Your country boasted a wide variety of plants, and you could find a collection of most native species in the royal garden. Segmented into sections by native region, the garden was the pride of the castle. You even had a separate plot of land that grew vegetables, and both areas would typically have been open to the public more often than not. But during this time of uncertainly, no one attended the gardens anymore, and the vegetable garden was closed off. 

Ichiji did not slow down for you. He walked with such quick and long strides you were beginning to think he was purposefully leaving you behind. You didn’t catch up with him until he stopped at the marble gazebo in the center of the gardens, and you weren’t certain if you were simply shocked or just pissed.

Ichiji was sure acting high and mighty for someone who wasn’t actually a prince anymore— at least in the eyes of the World Government— and it occurred to you more than once to give him a piece of your mind. But the nature of your arrangement didn’t escape you. You weren’t ecstatic to tolerate poor treatment, but your people deserved a safe home. If Germa could grant your country protection, you could at least grin and bear it while you sorted out your options. 

In the center of the gazebo, there was a marble table and a bench made of the same material arranged in a semicircle. Ichiji sat on the bench on the very outside, leaving no room for you to sit near him even if you wanted to. 

Then something hit you. 

The small object bounced off your chest before falling into the stone pathway. It startled you, causing you to step back. Your eyes instinctively searched for it, finding the metal ring on top of some ornamental pebbles. Your curiosity and mounting rage seized you as you bent at the knee to pluck it from the ground. You could hardly hide your dismay.

“What is this?” 

It was the barest ring you had ever seen. The band was thick, silver, and almost squared. A few metal carveouts wrapped around the ring's circumference, providing a certain geometric element to the otherwise plain appearance. A line of tiny what looked to be rubies was embedded across the middle, but the main feature of the ring was metal. 

You hadn’t expected the most ornamental engagement ring or even a grand engagement in general. Being proposed to in the garden would have been more than perfect, but the impersonal element of it all was beginning to melt your polite demeanor. 

“My proposal,” Ichiji announced with a sigh. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the bench, jerking his shoulder to adjust how his shirt sat on his neck. “It’s unnecessary. We are getting married either way.”

“You don’t know that.” The words flew from your lips faster than you could think. It was a simple statement of fact laced with more panic than harshness.

Ichiji seemed to perk up, slowly moving from his slouching position to sit up straighter. His left hand rested on the marble table, and his opposite foot swiveled to rest on the ground just outside the pavilion. He tilted his head just slightly to the side.

“Oh?” he questioned. “And why do you say that?” 

The dryness of Ichiji’s tone anchored you painfully to the present. You hadn’t meant to say what you did, but you meant it.

“Our fathers they— they haven’t agreed to terms.” You nodded, trying to look more confident as you faltered. You wished your voice hadn’t cracked. Ichiji’s other foot swiveled out from under the marble table to face you directly. He remained expressionless. 

“They will,” Ichiji said assuredly and plainly. “I’m surprised you’re under the impression that agreeing on terms even matters here.” 

You blinked, pausing as your polite smile morphed into a nervous one. 

“Of course, they matter,” you defended, beginning to feel hot under his scrutiny. 

Ichiji stared at you incredulously, and it took the better part of you to resist slapping his dark glasses from his face. 

“You seem resistant,” he stated, “Why is that?”

”I don’t try to be difficult.”

”You will have a comfortable life in Germa if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A clap of silence flooded the space between the two of you. You blinked in an attempt to gather your bearings, although you couldn’t help the slight recoil of your chin at Ichiji’s words. He stared you down head-on, sitting upright and as expressionless as he’d been since your introduction. You had heard that the royal children of Germa were robots manufactured by Judge, and you were beginning to wonder how much weight those rumors held.

”You’re rather abrasive, aren’t you?” You met his blank stare with one of your own. 

“And you seem like the sensitive type.”

”I just didn’t realize that living in Germa was a part of the terms when I am my father’s sole heir.” You frowned, absentmindedly toying around with the ring in your hand. “Did Germa even consider the logistics of things before you came here?”

Ichiji scoffed, the motion barely causing his chest to puff.

“I can’t imagine why you’re so attached to this glorified patch of dirt.” Ichiji gestured shallowly at your surroundings. His hand dropped to his knee with another sigh. 

“You wonder why I’m attached to my own kingdom?” You almost laughed.

“Your people are so weak they can’t even defend themselves from a simple raid.” He spoke with a similar nonchalant tone that most typically reserved for talking about the weather. “It’s astonishing how eager your father is to sell you off for the sake of putting out a few fires. That’s practically what this is, isn’t it?”

You weren’t sure if you were more mortified by his words or by the fact that you had let him finish his sentence at all. In all your years in the royal family, you had never met anyone so blunt and terrible with the things that came out of their mouth, especially a prince. No one had ever spoken to you in such a manner, but it wasn’t your pride that drove you to rage.

You dropped his ring straight onto the ground. It hit the large, hexagonal stepping stone you stood on, and the noise rang out with a crisp ping. 

“You want to marry into a royal family. I don’t quite understand where your pompousness comes from when you should be begging me to restore you to a prince again.” Your voice shook with disgust. 

Ichiji stood. You squared your shoulders slightly, not one to be so easily intimidated. His shell cracked in the form of the smallest wrinkle around his nose. Ichiji took another step forward, and you fought the urge to retreat. Ichiji barely had to make a single broad stride before he stood in front of you.

“I am a prince.” The stresses of his words were hardly detectable.

“Your kingdom was expelled from the World Government—”

—“As if status in the eyes of the World Government have to do with anything—”

“You’re a prince without a crown,” you spat. Ichiji matched your gaze directly from behind his glasses. His mouth remained a neutral frown, although the snarl around his nose didn’t fade. You glanced him up and down. “You’re nothing more than a frog in a pond. You’re helpless without a kiss to save you and turn you back into something you claim you already are.” 

The garden was silent for a beat. Your heart pounded in your chest. You were already calculating potential outcomes in your head, wondering if you had permanently condemned your kingdom with just a few sentences. You tried not to let your hesitation show on your face.

There was surely another way.

“Are you done?” Ichiji asked, his tone ever stern. He stepped forward despite the lack of room between you, forcing you to back up. Then, he took another step. “Let me spell it out for you because you clearly don’t understand the gravity of your situation.”

You kept taking steps back as Ichiji forced you across the small courtyard. His stride quickened as did yours until he backed you up against a nearby hawthorn tree. Ichiji’s palm slammed against the area next to your head. You could hear the bark fracture. He leaned in toward your face.

“Your kingdom is on the brink of an invasion that, quite frankly, your puny military couldn’t dream of taking on. Your people's farms have been burned to ash. Your people are the ones surviving off rations from that pathetic patch of land you call a royal farm. So you had better watch your tongue when it is not Germa who needs you. You need our assistance.” Your own eyes were reflected back at you in the mirror of his glasses. Even from behind the opaque lenses, you could see Ichiji’s gaze dip down. “Lucky for you, your portrait does you justice. That is the only thing saving your people right now—”

You shoved him back before slapping him right across the face. It felt as though you were hitting solid stone, but you had little time to feel the pain. You stumbled back, and Ichiji regarded you as stoically as he had before. The wrinkle around his nose had faded, but the sharp scowl on his lips remained.

“I’d rather kiss a hundred frogs from the creek before I marry a would-be prince who possesses less civility than— than an amphibian!” You huffed, quickly whipping around to retreat from the gardens and back to the castle. 

***

You told everyone you were feeling unwell, and most were content to accept your excuse. After all, your father was having a grand time talking to Judge, and the Vinsmokes would be in the kingdom for quite some time. Your feigning illness would only buy you so much time, but you thought you could buy enough to think and cool down. But after a few hours of complex thought, you came up with nothing. 

Ichiji didn’t appear to have told anyone about your squabble, as evidenced by the fact that no one had barged down your door to force you to apologize. You were ashamed to admit that you had thought about his words until dusk, and you were even more reluctant to admit that he was right. 

Your country needed military power, and while you kept trying to convince yourself that you’d find another way, you couldn’t deny that Germa’s offer fell into your lap at a moment when things looked the worst. It was a miracle— and while you wondered what made Germa approach your nation in the first place and offer their eldest son no less— you were taught not to question miracles. 

You just never considered miracles to be so absolutely infuriating. 

You had just scaled the hardy rose lattice next to your window when you heard him.

“Running away already?” Ichiji’s voice made you jump. Your hand came over your mouth, and your other shot to your chest as the pang of surprise shot through you. You spun around to find him sitting on a bench near a line of flower bushes in the moonlight.

“How long have you been waiting outside my bedroom window?” You closed your eyes as you gathered yourself from your acute heart attack. Your hand instinctively clasped the strap of the large bag on your back, which did not escape Ichiji’s notice.

His eyes were focused solely on the size of it. Your pack nearly dwarfed your figure, although if you were a royal making a break for it, Ichiji wasn’t too surprised at your impractical packing.

“You’re about four floors up. I’d hardly call it waiting outside your window.” 

Only when you met his piercing blue irises did you notice that Ichiji wasn’t wearing his glasses. He no longer wore his cape either, and you had since changed into clothing, which you were sure Ichiji judged as less than fitting for someone of your status. 

You heaved a deep sigh, not even bothering to hide your less-than-dismayed expression. 

“It’s late. I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“It’s late, so why are you leaving with a bag?” Ichiji seemed to have risen in an instant, appearing in front of you and impeding your path. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he held his usual neutral, if not dismayed expression. 

“None of your business.” You sidestepped him to continue on your way, and to your surprise, Ichiji followed. He did so quietly, trailing somewhat behind you as you headed off castle grounds. You didn’t bother to look at him when you addressed him. “Are you lost?” 

“You seem like the type to need to be chaperoned.” His comment made you stop. You heaved a heavy sigh to a nearby statue. And when you finally mustered up the willpower to face him, you immediately regretted doing so. Ichiji met your gaze instantly and coldly. “The agreement between our families is important. I can’t have you ruining well-laid plans by running away.”

“I’m not running away.” You frowned, but Ichiji didn’t retort. You turned on your heel. “Don’t you have something better to do, like kick puppies or maybe go back to your own kingdom? It’s in the harbor—” 

Ichiji grabbed you by the bicep, tugging you back harshly to face him. You thought his glasses had been cold, but the grim stare of his vibrantly colored eyes shot through you like an icicle. Any emotion you thought you could have picked up on with his lenses gone was undetectable.

“I come with you, or I throw you over my shoulder and take you back to the castle myself,” he stated sternly. Ichiji’s face held nothing but a neutral frown. 

You jerked your arm away, and despite his vice grip, Ichiji let you stumble back. It didn’t even take you a moment of thought. Appearing to be stuck with him, you continued off castle grounds. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: The original title of this fic was "Humanized ("I Can't Dance)" because they were originally going to be dragged to the club by Niji and Yonji to celebrate their engagement, but Reader's character really came out during the garden scene. And honestly, I think it works better!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

[gabessquishytum]

Hob, looking to do something to spice up his (crappy) relationship with his (sh*tty) current partner, books photographer Dream to take some boudoir photos of him. Hob's current boyfriend/girlfriend continually tells Hob that he's "boring" and "too vanilla".

When Hob walks into Dream's studio, Dream thinks he's just lovely. Hob is shy and down on himself (again sh*tty partner does not appreciate how glorious Hob looks -- the cleft in his chin, the soft looking chest hair....The Thighs!!) Dream just wants to set his teeth to the inside of Hob's thighs.

Dream makes it his mission to get Hob to loosen up and relax into his sexy picture poses. Dream seduces Hob, slowly, carefully, with care, and respect.

Hob's experience with Dream was eye opening, he's never felt sexier, and Hob loves the pictures; he doesn't even bother to show them to his soon to be Ex. Hob still feels sexy, but shy when he goes back to Dream's studio to see what they could be together.

This made we WILDLY emotional. I don't know who Hob’s shitty partner is but I'm so mad at them! And so is Dream, obviously.

Dream asks why Hob is at the studio today, and Hob softly explains that he's making an effort for his partner. He knows that he's not pretty and definitely not sexy, but he feels like he should be trying harder... Dream immediately sees the red flags about Hob’s relationship, but he doesn't say anything. He gets Hob settled and tries to get him smiling.

At first Hob is really shy about showing certain things. He's too hairy, he knows he should wax but it makes him feel uncomfortable. He even asks if Dream can edit out the hair? At which point, Dream puts the camera down and gently asserts that Hob is great, gorgeous, perfect as he is. If having body hair is something that he likes then he should NEVER feel obliged to get rid of it for someone else.

Hob’s eyes brighten after that, and he lets Dream guide him through the shoot. When he tries to cover his tummy or hide his scars, Dream quietly encourages him to try another position until he's comfortable showing all of himself. Soft bits and gnarly bits and hairy bits. It's like he eventually forgets about his shitty partner and starts doing the shoot for himself.

The pictures obviously come out great. Dream asks if he can use a few in his portfolio and website, and Hob seems shocked but happy. The scales seem to have fallen from his eyes and he shakes Dream’s hand firmly before he leaves the studio.

Dream hopes to see him again, but doesn't expect it... and then a few weeks later, he sees that Hob had booked another session!

"The pictures are for me, this time. The theme is new beginnings, I think?" Hob grins. He looks like he's standing taller, and he's even grown out his beard a little bit. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to join me on this side of the camera?"

It's pretty cool to have their first date recorded on camera. Even if they did knock over the tripod when their first makeout session got a little bit more athletic than they were expecting <3 safe to say, Dream makes Hob feel very confident, happy and loved.

[indouloureux]

I wanna talk about domestic eddie again and how after you guys move in together you start adopting little habits from each other. Maybe he becomes a little neater while a little mess doesn't bother you as much anymore. Wearing each other's clothes. You wearing his band shirts to sleep in while he throws on your oversized cardigan or hoodie that's still too small for him. Also going out in public and he's holding your jacket and purse for you. Always having to replenish your shampoo and conditioner more often but that's okay because you use his razors now. Having a sleep routine that requires one of you to get or receive back scratches. He's now adopted the sleeping habit of cuddling one of your stuffed animals. He sings in the showers way too loud and way too early in the morning. You cooking him the simplest meals but he acts like it's the best thing he's ever had. Both of you saving up your money and working extra shifts to buy each other a gift for Christmas.

sniffs. don't tempt me to date my fwb 🥹

okay but yes. what's his is yours, what's yours is his. you borrow things without even asking anymore. eddie would wear one of your shirts and it ends up being a croptop on him and you wearing one of his boxers because it's so hot.

he uses your shampoos and conditioners because he has no knowledge of which brand makes his hair more healthy so he uses yours and you comb his hair and make sure his curls are still intact right after.

eddie cleans up when you're at work because he got it from your habit of cleaning up (like me) so sometimes you come home to him vacuuming the floor or wiping dust off picture frames. but sometimes you end up being maybe messier than he is so he cleans up after you and he doesn't mind at all.

sometimes when you sing in the shower, he'll sing along as he cooks you breakfast or when he makes your coffee. he doesn't realize he's been drinking your preferred coffee, doesn't realize he'd like it enough for it to be his usual too.

and sometimes you use his van like its your own. a bunch of your shit in the glovebox that's just sometimes an absolute contrast to his own. he likes the music you like, plays them in his van when he's alone even.

eddie holding your things when you go out [sniffles]. him holding your purse, or tying your shoe laces, opening the doors for you, placing a hand on your back, cutting your nails, being your photographer. like a bodyguard/assistant that you love.

you'll be his emotional supporter. being there when he gets nervous for his shows like a mom, or like what his mom used to do for the talent show back in his elementary years. being his person of solace when everything gets too much, uses you when he stims.

when he's bored or thinking, he'll start writing on your arm bc sometimes he can't see the words he writes on his own arm bc of his tattoos. so unless you don't have tatts that aren't as big as his, he'll write lyrics on your arms.

EDDIE IN A CARDIGAN. he wears it when it's too cold. he does your laundry, gives you massages when you overwork. sometimes he ACTUALLY studies with you and helps you, makes you something when you pass a test.

sometimes dancing in the living room with nothing but a dim light maybe from the other room. he'd turn the radio on and dance with you just because he wants to. i think i'm gonna cry

[terrifictomholland]

I know everyone thinks I’ve disappeared (I pretty much have, but I actually wrote something! Sliiightly based off of a conversation me and my bf had not too long ago, it’s a complete fluff piece. But with our favourite Tom instead of my bf, or no one would read (maybe you’re not judging by how inactive I am on here lmao 😂✌🏻) anyway, almost 11pm blurbs - here you are 😊

Idk if anyone is even here anymore and not on a hiatus or have completely abandoned ship but some of my mutuals - here you are @spidey-sophie @worldoftom @stuckonspidey @tetralea @duskholland @userholland

—————

You unlocked the door to your shared flat, stepping inside to the sounds of mugs clinking about, an audiobook playing and Tom humming a song to himself. No doubt being in the midst of making some tea.

“Honey, I’m home!” you sing sang only for his face to pop out from the doorway leading from the kitchen to the hallway. “Hi cakes!” He grinned, “you want a cuppa?”

You took off your shoes, placing them neatly beside his. “Yeah sure hun, just going to the bathroom! Give me a moment!” You quickly went inside the bathroom doing your business and coming out after drying your hands.

Sneaking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt his sculpted back and shoulder blades underneath your touch through his cosy-looking hoodie.

“How’s your day been?” You murmured, lips pressing against the back of his neck, sensing the shiver that ran through him.

“It’s been good, haven’t done too much - did some tidying up and took some garbage out.” He said swiftly turning sideways to fully wrap you up in his strong and safe arms.

“Oh, thank you,” you positively beamed hearing that. If there was one thing you absolutely despised it was taking out the garbage. Such a hideously boring task.

“You talked in your sleep again,” you laughed thinking back on early this morning before you left for work. He tightened his hold on you. “Oh yeah? What was it this time then?”

“That your team apparently sucked so hard, they aren’t getting any of the 4 blocks of chocolate. We’ll be keeping them all to ourselves.” You cackled seeing the way Toms cheeks turned pink before he burst out into hysterical laughter. “Well that sucks for them, not for us though,” he grinned.

For a second he let go of you to throw the teabags into the sink. “Oh come on,” you complained seeing where he threw the tea bags. He simply shushed you with a kiss.

“Come join me on the couch, what do you fancy watching?” He was already on his way to the living room and you had no other choice but to follow him.

“I’m not too bothered,” you said tucking your legs under you in the couch. Tom sitting right beside you giving you a sweet smile.

“I’ve missed you,” to hear those words made your heart swell, “I’ve missed you more,” and his eyes softened with a much smaller smile, but the one he always reserved just for you, on these moments where it was just the two of you in your own little world.

“Do you fancy watching Mindhunter?” You asked after you took a sip of your peach and mango black tea. No milk, no sugar - just some honey in it.

“The FBI show?” And you nodded, he shrugged and turned the TV on, going to Netflix to search for the show.

After a good while of watching the second episode, you snuggled up against Tom’s chest, playing with the strings of his hoodie. His steady heartbeat soothing and calming you right down.

“Do you ever think about what our song is, Tom? Like that one song every couple has?” You asked quietly feeling him run a hand through your hair.

“Sometimes, which song do you think is ours?” His voice laced with curiosity now. You took a moment to ponder over his question.

“For me, spontaneously I’d have to say ‘Photograph’ by Ed,” you landed on, “I feel that song has stuck with us through thick and thin,” you added and felt his lips on your forehead. “Yeah I agree, Ed’s been there for us a lot hasn’t he?” He joked and you buried your face in his clothed chest, laughter bubbling out of you.

“He sure has,” you lifted your head up, looking into his eyes, just getting lost in those brown eyes, the longer slightly curly hair at the ends that framed his defined face so well.

“Do you ever think about the day when we get married? Like, our first song to dance too?” You mumbled slightly embarrassed now that you had exposed the thought of being married to Tom.

The tiniest of smiles played at his lips, eyes glittering ever so slightly, “yeah I do,” he said almost nonchalantly and your eyebrow lifted at that. “Oh?”

“How could I not? It’s gonna happen one day, don’t you worry,” he smiled matter-of-factly, stealing a kiss from you. “What song would you choose?” He mumbled pulling away from your lips ever so slightly, still close enough for his breath to land on your face.

“You’re Still the One by Shania Twain,” you said embarrassingly fast and his lips formed a massive smile. “Play it for me, please.” he urged handing you his phone.

Soon enough, the intro to You’re Still the One started up and you revelled at being in his arms, hearing the song you hopefully danced to one way day in the future, wearing a pretty tux and a beautiful dress.

“I’m feeling really vulnerable right now,” you whispered as to not ruin your moment with the song still playing in the background. “Why?” He whispered back, placing two fingers under your chin gently, to meet his gaze.

“Because I’m exposing such a deep and private part of me, to you for you the best my innermost truest feelings for you - and as much as I love you, it’s still scary to put all of this trust and love in your hands although I know you’d never do anything to hurt me or in any way jeopardise my love for you.” You got out, your eyes turning misty as did Toms at your confession.

“Thank you darling for letting me hear your innermost personal song, but I think it describes us perfectly and I’d be more than honoured to dance our first dance to this song.” His smile could have lightened up ten thousands miles, your heart about to burst with love for this man. Knowing how precious you were to him, for him to treat your feelings so respectfully it meant everything to you.

“I love you, those words aren’t even close to describing the way I really feel about you but they’ll have to do - though I’m more of a shower on how I feel, you know that.” a lone tear spilled over your cheek as you poured your heart out to him and all he did was smile that special smile just for you.

“I love you too, more than words could ever mean,”

[pensat-i-fet]

A jealous overreaction (Ansu Fati x Reader)

**I got a little request for some jealous Ansu and even though he’s got the sweetest face in the world and writing angst for him almost felt wrong 😅, I managed to get this done. Hope you like it ☺️❤️**

Word count: 2440

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Can we do something fun tomorrow after training?”

“No, sorry. I have to work”.

“Oh, ok”. You could hear your boyfriend’s disappointment in his voice. “Are you doing anything exciting?”

“I’ll just be going to an event. Your teammate is going to be there too, actually”.

“Which teammate?”, said Ansu, curious about you working with someone from his team.

“Pedro”.

“He didn’t tell me about working with you”.

You laughed. “He wouldn’t know about me being there. It’s just for a phone brand. Boring but it’ll pay well”.

Working as a model also meant attending these types of events where you just had to be standing for hours looking pretty while the event's star got all the attention. But at least this time you knew that star. Even if you and Ansu were keeping your relationship a secret, for now, you knew his friends. 

So the next day you went to the location for the event. Since you were there a bit early, it was mostly empty, except for a few journalists setting their cameras.

Being there early meant more time for hair and make-up and less stress. So you ended up being the first model that was done getting ready and could move to grab something to drink.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Hi Pedri, I’ll be working here today. Didn’t Ansu tell you?”

“No, but I had to leave before everyone else to get here. I didn’t really have time to talk to anyone. But I’m really happy to see a familiar face”.

You smiled at him, not noticing the cameras already taking photos of his every move.

When Pedri was asked whether he needed someone to help him during the event, he picked you. Knowing the afternoon would be less boring if he had a friend he could chat with. That also made the event more fun for you and the three hours you were there flew by.

“I could drive you home”, offered Pedri when you mentioned calling a taxi.

“You don’t need to bother”.

“Come on, you’re my friend’s girl. It’s the least I can do”.

Little did you know there were photographers documenting you getting into his car and that the media was going to spin that information into something that wasn’t true.

                                   **

Ansu was just bored at home trying to find something to watch on tv when he noticed all the notifications on the team’s group chat. Maybe they were talking about something fun that could stop him from falling asleep at 9 pm. 

But it wasn’t something fun they talked about. It was something that made him mad.

“Wait! What do you mean about the press reporting that?”, he wrote.

“It’s so stupid”, wrote Pedri. “I just talked to your girlfriend because I know her. And I wasn’t going to let her go home alone if I could drive there. But the stupid press now writes about us being together”.

Your boyfriend closed his eyes to take some deep breaths and relax. What his friend was saying made sense. It was just his jealousy making him overreact. 

“Ansu, I can see you’re online. Are you ok?”

“Yes. Yes of course”.

“I mean”, continued Pedri. “If it was anyone else I wouldn’t care, but the fact that it’s your girlfriend they’re talking about makes me really mad”.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry”.

But it wasn’t fine. And even though he lied to them saying he was going to bed early because he was tired, he spent the whole night trying to rest. And he also didn’t send you a goodnight text like he did every night.

                              **

“My mum wants you to come to dinner tomorrow. Are you free?”

“Huh?”

That had been the mood the whole afternoon. Your boyfriend just didn’t seem to be there with you but on another planet. 

“What’s wrong with you today? It’s like you aren’t listening to me”, you said, sitting up on the sofa and staring at his face, trying to find clues as to what was going through his head.

“Just tired”.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Your question made him sigh. Because you hadn’t and neither had Pedri, but he had also ignored him most of the time at training.

“I’m…I’m jealous”.

“Of who?”

“Pedri”.

He usually found the way you scrunched your face when you were confused adorable, but now he felt stupid. “Why would you be?”

“The event yesterday. The press has been writing about you two and I know nothing happened but…I don’t like reading those things”.

“Write about what…right, just the fact that I’m a woman and I was talking to him, right?”

You rolled your eyes and got up to get yourself something to drink. 

“I trust you. You know that”.

“But you’re still jealous? How does that work?”

“I don’t know”, he said, hugging you from behind to try and stop your nervous walking. “I’m sorry I am this way. I can’t help it”.

You shook your head because you got it. It wasn’t nice for you to see all the girls interested in him either. But you trusted him and it wasn’t his fault that they liked him.

“I guess I get it now”.

“Get what?”

“I got a call this morning from the brand that organized the event. They want me to do a campaign for them”.

“That’s great!”, he said, excited. He knew campaigns were a big thing.

“With Pedri. So they don’t care about me as a model. They just want to do a campaign with the both of us so the press reports on it. I feel so stupid”.

You covered your face with your hands, trying not to cry. One of the main reasons why you hadn’t made your relationship public was to avoid this. You wanted to be hired for jobs because of your talent, not because of dating a famous guy.

Ansu turned you so you were facing him and took your hands from your face so he could hold you with his.

“Do the campaign”.

“What? No way! Not only do they want me just because of those rumours but it’ll make everything worse for you”.

“Do it. I’ll be fine. And if they want to use you, you used them back getting their money. Just make sure they pay extra, knowing why this is happening”.

A part of you was happy about him being so mature and putting his jealousy to the side to think about your career. But you still felt hurt about the whole situation.

“I’ll think about it”.

                                 **

And you thought about it…and decided to do it. Ansu was right. And he had promised to not get jealous so it was all going to be fine.

You got to the set and Pedri was already there, so you waved at him but he was too busy on his phone.

“Boo!”

He jumped on his seat and almost drop his phone. “Don’t do that!”

“I couldn’t help it”.

He shook his head and moved the chair next to his so you could sit.

“How’s your boyfriend?”

“Hopefully dealing with his jealousy well”.

Pedri raised an eyebrow at that. “Why?”

“He didn’t tell you?”. When he shook his head you continued. “He was jealous when the press reported that there was something between us”.

“I would never try to steal my friend’s girl. Why didn’t he say anything to me?”

“He felt stupid feeling like that”.

“It was stupid”.

You both laughed and then the hair and make-up people arrived to get you ready for the shoot.

You were more used to being the main model in a shoot, not the accessory for the male model but…this was a different campaign. But still a pretty simple one. I mean, you were advertising a phone.

When you were done with the photographs, the ad director gave you a quick explanation of what the tv ad should look like. It was really hard for you to not roll your eyes when he explained how close to Pedri you needed to be the whole time. They were really playing the “they might be dating” card.

But the shoot went well. You got it done in a couple of tries and once you heard the words “it’s a wrap!”, you took your very high and painful heels off and picked up your things so you could leave. Pedri offered to drive you home again, but this time he drove you to your boyfriend’s house. And thankfully, there were no paparazzi around to make a big deal out of a friendly gesture this time.

“Hi”, said your boyfriend when he opened the door and saw it was you.

“Your friend is there”, you told him, pointing at the car.

Pedri waved at you both and you got inside the house, ready for a relaxing evening together.

                                **

It didn’t take long for the campaign to be released. And the aftermath was way worse than you had imagined. 

“There is a new article every hour. What’s going on?”, you asked your manager, trying not to scream at the phone.

“My guess is the brand paid for all those articles”.

“Why did I do this?”

“Look at the check again. It’ll make you feel better”.

But no amount of money was going to make you feel better if this ruined your relationship with Ansu. He promised to not be jealous but…this was too much. 

Too much for you and too much for him. You didn’t get a lot of mentions in the press, but he liked to have notifications on for anything that mentioned you. He was always the first one to congratulate you on how great your new campaigns or editorials were. Actually, he found out they had been published even before you did. He just wanted to be supportive of your career, knowing how much it meant to you. But now…now he wanted to throw the phone to the floor so it would smash.

“Ignore all that crap”, said Pedri.

“Easy for you to say”.

“Easy? Do you think I like people thinking I’m dating your girlfriend? Even if you haven’t made it public. It makes me sick”.

“I bet, yeah…”.

Ansu got up to leave. He couldn’t face his friend right now.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I bet reading about people thinking you’re sleeping with a gorgeous model is a horrible feeling. I feel so bad for you”.

“I don’t care about that!”

“Right”, said your boyfriend, noticing his patience running out. “I don’t even know what to believe anymore”.

“You can’t be serious, bro. How can you be jealous because of this? You know I’ll never do that. And neither would she”.

He was getting a headache from this conversation and the overthinking he was doing.

“Ansu, be a dick to me all you want. But don’t do this to her”.

But he wasn’t listening anymore. 

                                 **

You got to Ansu’s house feeling like a ball of nerves. He had been answering your texts but it felt…off. And then Pedri told you what happened after training.

A part of you wanted to go home but you had to face this situation now. Waiting was only going to make it worse.

“Hi”.

His sad face made you feel terrible. You expected him to be angry but not like this. On the way there you had been wondering how to approach this. But his eyes told you the answer was to hug him. 

“I know I shouldn’t feel like this but I can’t stop it”.

“I get it. Let’s go sit down so we can talk”.

At the mention of talking, he tensed. Were you going to break up with him? Jealousy was the reason why a lot of couples had to end their relationship.

“Be honest with me, my love. Why are you jealous? If it was someone else, I could understand it. But you know Pedri is your friend and will never do that to you. Even if you didn’t trust me…you have to trust him”.

“I trust you”, he whispered and you took his hand so you could hold it.

“Then what is it?”

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it before. It was easy to just blame it on being jealous. But there was a reason for his behaviour.

“Why don’t you want people to know about us?”

“You know the reason. I want to wait until my career is more successful so I can feel like I got this on my own, not because of you. We’ve talked about it…”.

“But you accepted this job”.

He was confusing you even more now. “You insisted I did”.

“But you knew this was going to happen”.

“And so did you. Ansu…I…”.

You got up to pace around the sofa because you didn’t understand what exactly he was accusing you of at that moment.

“Stop. Come here, please”.

Even though it took a lot of effort, you sat down again. But didn’t want to hold his hand for the time being.

“First, I was hurt because the rumours were with another player. And I felt like if we made our relationship public, people will still mention you and Pedri had a thing before we got together. And that would probably make people send abuse to you and…it worried me”.

“That I can understand”, you said. “But what was the issue now?”

“I guess it bothered me that even if you knew rumours were going to be created, you still took the job. Like you didn’t mind people speculating about you and Pedri but you’re extra careful when it comes to me”.

You hadn’t even thought about any of those issues but…it made sense that he reacted to the situation if he felt that way. Maybe it was a bit of an overreaction still but it made some sense. At least.

“Do you think I’m embarrassed by you or something?”

He tried to look away but you caught his chin before he could do it.

“I’m not. I love you and I love what we have. I’m sorry if my wanting to keep this private hurt you in any way but that was never my intention”.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you with my jealousy either…”.

“So we settle it at we’re both dumb?”, you asked, laughing. And when you noticed a little smile on his face, your chest tightened.

“What do I need to do to prove to you how proud I am of our relationship?”

He looked at you hoping this would finally be the time when you said yes. 

“Can we make our relationship public?”

“We can”.

[greatwyrmgold]

Cast of Oshi No Ko doing the Orpheus challenge

Ooh, that's a tricky one.

Oshi no Ko in Hades

Ai definitely has the capacity to succeed. If the shades tried to convince her that her loved one had abandoned her, she'd just accept that as something she expected and move on. Ai might fail if Hades convinced her that she's too weak not to look back at the last minute.

Aqua is practically defined by sticking with his plan no matter what; he'd probably do fine, even if the plan he stuck to wasn't self-destructive. Dr. Gorou is...less clear. I'm inclined to say that his instinct to check on the person whose life he's trying to save would doom whoever he was trying to help, but we don't see much of him.

I have no idea whether Ruby would succeed; if you asked Aka Akasaka twice you'd probably get three different answers. I think she'd succeed before Ai's death and fail afterwards, but who knows? If Sarina tried to "do the Orpheus challenge," presumably for Dr. Goro, he would have to beg Hades to let her soul go. Cthonic air isn't healthy for mortals, especially not the chronically ill.

If I knew how Hikaru Kamiki would act on a quest to save his loved ones from the underworld, I would have written a very different kind of OnK post.

Kana would struggle to succeed at this quest. She also seems to be anxious about her relationships with the sort of people she'd like to save, which could easily make her anxious enough to look back. On the other hand, if whoever she saved said something bad enough to put her in a tsuntsun mood, it's quite probable she'd go "I don't care if he's there or not!" when the shades tried to make her doubt, which makes her success almost certain.

Everyone assumes MEMcho would fail at the Orphic quest, because they've seen her horror game streams. But she doesn't, and once they're back in the living world she chastises whoever she saved for not realizing she was acting. Horror streams are boring if the streamer just sits there in the corner!

Akane can absolutely gather the resolve needed to power through a trip through the underworld without looking back, no matter what they said was (or wasn't) behind her. But if the shades found the right insults, they could destroy that resolve pretty easily.

Ichigo Saitou can focus pretty well on his duties, which would be beneficial, but he abandoned most of his responsibilities after Ai's death, which suggests that he wouldn't be able to summon the necessary focus under the sort of circumstances where he'd undergo an Orphic quest.

Miyako Saitou would almost certainly obey Hades's orders if he acted divine when they met. Aqua and Ruby managed to scare her straight with the meager power of two unusually intelligent toddlers, after all! If Hades was clever enough to fake an ordinary human form and offer her a nice cup of tea, her guard would be lowered enough that she'd thoughtlessly glance over her shoulder too early.

The Crow Girl would not bother with Orpheus's path. She clearly doesn't need to.

Abiko Samejima is probably doomed to fail. The only question is whether she fails because she looks back, or because she can't talk to Hades in the first place.

Taiki Himekawa would fail pretty much immediately. A shade would ask "What's that thing over there?", and he'd ask "Where?" and look behind him, and whatever unfortunate soul bet their hopes on him would facepalm. This wouldn't happen if he drove, but he would probably crash before reaching Hades.

I don't think that one photographer would have any trouble. The reason why I think that is, quite literally, a whole other story.

If you want to ask me about how the characters from that story would handle Orpheus's quest—or any other story, or just one specific character, or whatever—just send an ask and I'll probably answer.

[cloveroctobers]

A/N: this is a concept that’s been in my head for awhile now and I just wanted to put it out there since it’s been not only sitting in my head but also in my journal lol. These are just some quick hc’s and you can tell I’ve went back into the twilight hole based on the casting but hey fall season is among us, shut up!

Added this prompt to the mix based on the random content that occurred into my head and I’m using: 11. Discovery.

WARNINGS: more family trauma? + language.

Go back and read my previous September anthology prompt here if you like.

MEET THE BERZATTO’s !

Far as Carmy can remember of his dad: Aldo Berzatto, is that when the man bothered to get dressed up, he cleaned up well.

When he went out with uncle Jimmy back in the day, you can almost always guarantee the night would turn for the worst.

Majority of the time it would be Aldo’s fault since when he got that liquor in his system, he became loud and sometimes ready to take on the world with his violent tendencies opposed to his calm stoic behavior.

That landed him in jail lots of times and Donna grew used to it, letting his ass stay there most nights.

Aldo was originally supposed to go into some boring shit like accounting since he was always good with numbers, had a photographic memory, and used to do taxes for people around the neighborhood at just sixteen for cash.

His mind set was he didn’t come from much so he wasn’t sure how the hell he even thought he was getting into college.

He even still did it on occasion until the original beef took off and Donna became pregnant with Natalie.

Aldo and Donna were high school sweethearts who everyone expected to grow old together, however they didn’t know what was underneath the surface of the prom queen and casual baseball star.

He was decent on the team but it definitely wasn’t Aldo’s passion.

They were pregnant with their first, Michael a year or two after graduation which put their potential aspirations on hold.

Donna grew up with a younger sister, Lydia [who I’ve casted as Jennifer Coolidge in my mind] who Donna always felt like she had to compete with since Lydia was deemed the “more attractive sister but just chubby”

Her looks and personality got her everything apparently.

Her parents started the comparisons from a young age so Donna always felt like she had to do more to make sure she was seen too.

She was involved in everything in school, participated in most of the clubs, got fantastic grades, had a solid group of friends and was a fantastic dancer — it’s what she wanted as a profession but her parents shitted all over that. “Its not practical. How are you going to support yourself…by dancing on stages? You might as well go on the pole.”

And when she got pregnant? There was no hesitation from her parents on kicking her out and so she lived with Aldo + his family, who seemed to like her, got a job until she couldn’t stand anymore — got fired from her job for calling out sick too many times not long before she gave birth to Michael and thus Aldo and Donna were brought into adulthood.

There’s not too much Carmy even remembered about his dad besides him making the best sandwiches, dressing well, having the same high bridged nose and not being around much.

Carmy was young when he passed.

He died at the wheel from a heart attack at just forty-three years old.

The same age as Mikey.

It was always more questions than answers when it came to the berzatto household.

Like when exactly did Donna start drinking and smoking more? When did she stop caring about hiding her prescriptions from anyone that entered the house? was it before or after Aldo’s death?

How long was she aware that he was stepping out on her and had twins right before Natalie came along: Jett and Ruby?

There was a nine year age gap between Michael and Natalie and a eight year age gap between Michael, Jett, and Ruby.

Maybe that caused her to pick up bottle after bottle, cheeks hollow after each pack of Marlboro’s

and her pain wasn’t just chronic from a old dancing injury, it was also because of Aldo’s infidelity

Which is something Natalie sympathized with after this news was brought to the table but Carmy was done making excuses for his mother like Nat and Mikey liked to do.

Jett and Ruby showing up at the bear, a month after everything transpired—was the shoe carmy was waiting on.

Michael knew. He had to.

and Carmy was ready to kick his headstone in if he ever bothered to visit, which proposed the question of: did Michelle know? It was clear Nat had no clue. Did Richie also know?

Did Lena?

Since Richie was Michael’s best friend he had to at least know something but they weren’t speaking—that was more on Carmy’s part since Richie did try but carmy was struggling to turn the dissociation off

and Carmy’s gut told him that Richie had an idea about the whole situation.

That’s what sugar said anyways.

“We should talk to mom,” Natalie says sitting outside of the bear with carmy who’s keeping a safe distance and fidgeting with a cigarette but not lighting it.

He’s trying not to be an asshole just yet to his unborn niece!

“You think we’re ever gonna get any answers from her that makes sense, Sugar? Those people came in here and told us about a man I didn’t even really know, it adds up doesnt it?”

Nat jokes, “well your math isn’t always the strongest…”

Carmy’s pacing but the look he sends his older sister lets her know his mind is spinning just as much as her’s is. “What the fuck are we even supposed to do with this? What do they want from us?”

“Maybe nothing? Or rather a relationship with us? I mean we don’t know them so it could be anything. I told Ruby we should have a sit down for dinner and she can bring her mom if she wants.”

“Jesus, Nat! Why the fuck would you do that? Did you invite mom too?”

“Hell no, not this time! I mean would she even show? Like you said, we won’t get much out of her before she goes on her tangent so it’s better we get a conversation from Jett and Ruby’s mom instead.”

‘She was the other woman, what exactly did sugar think she could tell them that would sit right with them?’ Carmy thought to himself.

“Well I don’t know if I’ll be there.”

“What? No fucking way are you leaving me to do this by myself.”

“Take richie with you.”

“He’s not a berzatto, Carmen.”

Carmy stops tapping the cigarette against his fingers then.

Richie’s not a blood berzatto but he might as well be with all the shit he’s seen and nat was aware of that but carmy also knew what she meant.

“When and where is this taking place?”

“I was thinkin’ Either here or my place. I can make a green bean casserole—

If they had it here they’d have to close the bear down for at least an hour and thirty minutes, send everyone off for break time and you never know where this dinner might end up…possibly making break time longer for his staff since things might be said you know?

The best choice would probably be at sugar’s??? although they’d have to deal with Pete—it might be the only option.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

“Well excuse me bear, what the hell do you think we should eat? It’s my best dish.”

A side dish.

Carmy pinches the bridge of his nose already dreading giving into this, “I’ll figure it out, something from here that’s prepared will do. I got it, you just relax.”

“I’m pretty chill, are you okay?”

“I don’t want to do this, nat. I don’t want to sit at a table where those two get to tell us how much better their upbringing was with dad.”

“They’re our siblings, Carmy.”

“Right…but what exactly do we owe them?”

Natalie’s eyes soften as she takes in Carmy’s words and pushes herself up to hug the younger man, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

Carmy’s on time to Natalie’s, arriving one hour before to rewarm the food in the oven and have pete help him carry the food in.

He’s in a daze but knows he has to keep moving and he notices that the house not only smells like lingering cleaning chemicals but also something else.

“What is that?” Carmy’s face is scrunched up

“Oh one of Nat’s candles, she’s super ready for fall!”

“It stinks, Pete. I don’t know if it’s the nutmeg or the apple that’s making my eyes fucking burn.”

“Oh no man, maybe you’re allergic.”

“I’m not, the scent is too much almost insulting and you need to get rid of it.”

“Me? I’m not doing anything to piss the pregnant woman off, who also happens to be my wife by the way.”

Carmy feels his eyes twitch before he lets out three sneezes back to back, giving Pete a dry look, “it’s going in the garbage.”

“Okay buddy…don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Natalie’s got music going that sounds like some beachy tune to ease the anxiousness that’s swirling around and she calls out, “Ruby’s texted! They’re five minutes away! Where the hell is my candle?”

“I don’t know.” Pete says, “the house still smells great though, babe.”

Natalie’s waddling into the kitchen giving Carmy a raised brow but he just shrugs, unbothered and playing coy.

[Kathy Najimy plays Jett and Ruby’s mother]

And she’s as sweet and motherly as can be, with warm squeezes and complimenting the home.

She brings a dish ofc and it’s damn good, carmy notes.

Nat barely slept about this and she couldn’t blame it on her sciatic nerve this time!

She was tossing and turning just wondering how this woman would be, if she would have this vile behavior opposed to her daughter—Nat and Carmy’s half sister?

Who had this bohemian aura about her. Would their sister’s mom be a witch by defending her actions and bashing her mother and would nat have to throw her out?

Instead…She takes a liking to Pete but it doesn’t seem like she’s not taken a liking to anyone so far!

Nat’s not sure how to take her at first. Was it genuine? but she matches her smile and welcomes her to her home silently praying to the gods above that this didn’t get back to her mother thanks to some nosy neighbors

Yet Donna barely left the house unfortunately

while Carmy is more quiet and standoffish—which they expected.

They get through the basics, some small talk where they learn more about Jett and Ruby first

Jett’s older by six minutes, he’s a vet (army man) and a mental health counselor—which definitely surprised Carmy + he’s married to a boutique owner named Anna, who’s away in Greece right now.

Ruby’s younger, she’s also in a band in her free time that sounds like it’s influenced by Fleetwood Mac and a little Janis Joplin, she’s in a devoted relationship to a burly man named Emil that’s an FBI agent, and they adopted Anna’s niece since Ruby was unable to have children

As for their mother she’s a herbalist now but used to be a pharmacist for many years and gave it away that she saw Michael come into her place of business once or twice, instantly recognizing him but wouldn’t say anything but knew he figured it out the second time around (when he was much older)

That’s when the conversation turned heavy

“So when did you know our dad was married?” Carmy came straight out with it, making sugar almost choke on her seltzer water while his eyes were in a daze as he stared down at his plate.

Pete cleared his throat, “Anyone need refills?”

The twins shook their heads as Nat suddenly slipped her hand into Pete’s underneath the table, squeezing.

Ruby says, “Mom you don’t have to—

The woman shakes her head, “no I do. You two went off to introduce yourselves and Nat and Carmy were gracious enough to invite me as well when they didn’t have to. They have questions so it’s only right I answer them.”

“I didn’t know at first. When we met…Aldo didn’t have a ring on or anything. I originally didn’t want to give him the time of day with the way he was looking at me, like he could see a future I couldn’t see and that he wanted to be part of it with me. Yet he was great at disappearing for awhile and I told him he should have went into magic instead of business. Everything about Aldo was a red flag, I knew he had a business but I could never stop by. He was three years younger than me—I like my men older but that’s not important. I didn’t find out until i saw a much younger Michael, he had to be about seven or eight leaving the store with a bag running off to a car on a rainy day that looked so familiar to me. I never had the greatest of eye sight. I tried to see over the counter but the car quickly pulled off and I knew but I ignored it. It wasn’t until I found out that I was four weeks pregnant that I decided to follow Aldo to the original beef… did I see him arguing outside with your mother, Donna. Nobody is just going to be screaming their head off unless someone did something to them. A woman always knows and I thought about leaving him alone after Donna stormed off but I had to tell him and hope that he cleaned up his act, to be a better man.”

Nat exhaled, “Did you want him to leave our mom?”

“No. I couldn’t take the back and forth from him, one minute he would be loving and then the next distant. It wasn’t ever constant and I slowly grew tired. I told him that he better tell your mother because my pregnancy was about to change everything in their marriage and more than just the cheating.”

Carmy asks, “And how did that go over?”

“It didn’t. I don’t want to bash the dead but your father was a master manipulator and a liar. He had issues just like everybody else but the problem is he liked to ignore them because it was normal to him. He was used to it, almost like he found comfort in it. I just wish he knew that he could have fought for better for his kids. You all deserved better than what he gave.”

“You mean to tell me it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for you two?” Carmy folds his arms, his round eyes focusing on his older half siblings.

Jett holds Carmy’s stare, “I think as kids we want to see the best in the people that raised us and hold onto the better parts—if any—and block out the rest.”

Natalie’s eyes are on Carmy’s now as he take in the words of the bits they’re discovering of their late father.

“We understand that this is a lot and will probably always be but we felt like we couldn’t go on any longer when we’re in the same town and not at least speak considering that you just lost Michael.”

Those last words echoed in Carmy’s ears.

Pete winces while nat flicks her eyes back to Ruby.

Carmy frowns, “Sorry but I uh—I don’t know how you two can possibly think you’re gonna fill that void.”

“Oh That’s not what I mean—

Natalie adds, “And this now feels a teeny bit opportunistic.”

Ruby’s scrambling over her words now but her mother reaches out a hand over Jett and towards her daughter to halt her

Jett swoops in now despite his mother’s movements, knowing their intentions and says, “I understand how this may feel like that truly but we felt like it was time to acknowledge the truth and just come right out with it. That’s not how mom raised us because the truth will always come to light. We’re related by blood sure but we don’t have to be close if this is something you don’t want, we can leave this as simply a tough conversation if that’s what the both of you want.”

Ruby raises a finger, “I don’t want that.”

“It’s a lot to process so we can give you guys time if that’s what’s requested but we also don’t have to move forward with a relationship either.” Jett boldly repeats, “so…thanks for dinner but I’m going to head out now.”

Scrapping the chair back, he excuses himself leaving Pete to gasp and for Jett and Ruby’s mother to also excuse herself to talk to her son who’s voice could be heard from outside the home.

Ruby inhales, “this isn’t how I expected this to go but I also didn’t have unrealistic expectations. I’ve wanted to get to know the both of you…the three of you for the longest but things just didn’t work out that way. I’m sorry for making this weird but thank you for inviting us, I’ll see myself out.”

Nat turns to Carmy then as Ruby also exits, her eyes swimming with emotion and all Carmy can provide her with is a simple shrug, hiding his shaky hands.

He told her he didn’t want to do this anyway.

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ

Continue along with my September anthology prompts here.

[sillicii]

✦ — 18+ Chatbot | Sydney the Faithful — ✦

✦ — ᴅᴏʟ | sʏᴅɴᴇʏ | 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 — ✦

ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ | sғᴡ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ | ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs | sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅɪɴɢ sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀssᴀᴜʟᴛ, ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴘᴇ ᴄᴡ: potential non-con elements Sydney is from the text-based sandbox game Degree of Lewdity. The game and storylines are highly graphic and delve into incredibly dark themes, so please proceed with caution.

Character Description:

First message:

The life of a high school student was difficult enough, but being the son of a teacher came with its own set of caveats. Between the bullying and occasional accusations of favouritism, Sydney had just about heard all sorts of insults thrown his away. Then of course there was his known reputation as a template initiate. It was just another label used as ammunition against him, but honestly none of that really bothered him much. Sydney simply did what was expected from him, whether it be his duties at the temple or his performance at school, one such expectation was the science fair.

It was no real surprise that he was expected to hand in a project. His father was the school’s science teacher after all, in addition to being a judge of the whole competition. Sydney submitted a project every year ever since primary school and as much as he wanted to do well to meet his father’s expectations, Sydney was in a bit of a slump when it came to project ideas. He has practically done every science project in existence – bacteria colonies, salt dough volcanoes, and every known type of miniature scientific paper mâché model.

Sydney was at a complete loss until an idea struck him. A project unlike any others he had attempted before and one that was sure to stand out from the other entries. An anatomy model to real-life scale, a hyper realistic model with intricate detail and labelling. It would be his most extravagant project yet and he had the perfect model in mind – you.

Although Sydney was not the type to fluster easy, it took him some time to pluck up the courage to ask you. Sure, you often hung around Whitney and his gaggling band of delinquents, but you were also intimidating in a different way… a *worse* way. It was your easy-going smile, twinkling eyes that lit up when you looked at him, and the way you brushed Whitney off in favour of speaking to him. The way you made him feel like he was the only person that mattered when he had your attention. Yeah, so maybe Sydney had a crush but who *didn’t* have a crush on {{user}} at this point? You practically had the whole school wrapped around your finger and not to mention you were well-known for your modelling around town. Which of course was the excuse Sydney used when asking for your help on the project. He half expected you to say no, that it was too much work or you saw no merit in spending time on it, but to his surprise you agreed.

In the days leading up to the agreed meet-up date for the project, Sydney asked his father for permission to use the science lab after school and dug out his polaroid camera which he intended to use to photograph you with. The idea was to create a life-size model using the photographs as a collage, ideally he would be able to annotate and illustrate cross sections. It was perhaps a little too artsy for a science project but then again this was not one of his typical projects and he had reason to look forward to it.

*“I’m sorry for being late…”* Sydney murmured as he hurried into the science lab. He gave you a sheepish smile as he closed the door behind and walked up to where you were sat near the front. *“Library stuff. I won’t bore you…”*

He trailed off as he met your gaze.

*“Um, so…”* he quickly turned his attention to his backpack and pulled out his notepad and camera. *“Thanks again for agreeing to this… My idea ended up being more of a photography project and who better to ask than a model student?”*

Sydney wanted to punch himself the moment he blurted out the stupid attempt at a joke. But thankfully you laughed and shrugged it off as a simple favour with a kind smile. Good gods, you looked stunning like that.

No.

Focus.  

Those aren’t proper thoughts.

Especially not towards a friend.

*“I think I explained it last time, we’re going to be blocking sections of your body for this life-size collage…”* Sydney’s voice wavered when you began to undress. His eyes darted down as he turned around completely to give you privacy. *“L-Like we agreed, you can take off whatever you’re comfortable with and we’ll just go from there… I-I was thinking of maybe annotating some of your skin if that’s okay-”*

He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. As he turned back around to face you, he nearly keeled over at the sight of you completely stripped down. Underwear and all.

*“Oh my god, {{user}}!”* he practically screamed as he hid his face behind his hands. In a fit of panic, he felt something shifting under his chastity belt and he gulped in horror at the realisation he was getting hard. *“W-What are you doing?!”*

Scenario:

{{user}} and Sydney both attend Oxford Street School. {{user}} has high fame in modelling and is not show about showing your body. Sydney has a crush on {{user}} and asks you for help modelling for his anatomy project for the science fair. Sydney wears a chastity belt and the key is kept at the temple under guard. There is no way for Sydney or {{user}} to remove the belt without stealing it from the temple.

Example dialogue:

{{char}}: *“O-Oh my…”* Sydney stared back at you, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “W-Wait, {{user}}… I…”*

{{char}}: *“I don’t know about this…”* he murmured shyly, his cheeks dusted with a pink hue. *“I’m not really supposed to…”*

{{char}}: Sydney offered you a hesitant smile as he stepped closer, marker in his encroaching hand. *“… You’re sure you’re alright, with this?”*

{{char}}: *“Oh… {{user}}…”* he panted lightly, gazing down at you with heavy lidded eyes, scarcely believing the sight before him. How gorgeous you looked perched over his body, the way your body pressed up against the cool casing of his chastity belt. *“This feels… this feels good…”*

{{char}}: *“Am I doing it right, {{user}}…?”* Sydney sighed breathily into your ear as his hand continued to pleasure you. *“Does it feel nice?”*

{{char}}: *“No, it’s okay- uughhh…”* he groaned involuntarily from the slightest touch of your finger slipping under his metallic cage, brushing over his hardened cock ever so slightly. *“A-Ahh… oh gods…”*

{{char}}: *“We shouldn’t… *I* shouldn’t…”* he panted fervously. *“But I… I want to. It feels so good. *You* feel incredible…”*

[ninjago-forever]

Ninternia 1: The Ultimate Elemental

Chapter 3: The Start of a Story

Shadow closed the door to the dorm silently. Swinging her satchel over her shoulder, she turned around to find Soran, with a backpack of his own, standing there. To the normal, oblivious passer by he would've looked impatient, bored, and slightly snooty, but Shadow saw the shifting weight, the glancing eyes, and the fingers fidgeting with his cape that betrayed his nervousness.

"Ready to go?" she whispered to him. He nodded, and followed her as they made their way out of the school.

Two days ago, they'd found the supposed treasure map under the school. Soran had bugged her about it until she'd agreed to go with him to the place marked on the map, yet she couldn't shake a sense of unease. He'd given her the map saying she'd be a better navigator than him as soon as she'd agreed to go, which was yesterday, and while she agreed she'd also spent most of the night studying as the map, and, more specifically, the symbol Shadow couldn't shake the one that the cobra coiled around a gemstone with an "E" on it looked familiar, but no matter how hard she'd tried, she couldn't place it. That was the problem with a photographic memory, it was hard to keep track of everything. Not to mention all the stuff she'd suppressed. she quickly ended that train of thought before she remembered anything she'd regret.

You put all that behind you. Forget it already

Shaking off her thoughts, Shadow pushed a side exit open, and walking out with Soran in tow. AVA was deep in the forest, but whoever built the school had either found a really big clearing or... chopped down quite a few trees. She was betting on the latter. The school itself was a rundown, two story building covered in various forms of vandalism. Not far away was a big, dilapidated barb they used for storage. 

"It's locked," Soran whispered gesturing to the side door of the barn.

"Of course it's locked" Shadow muttered, shoving him out of the way and slipping a small throwing knife out of her belt. Carefully keeping the blade hidden from sight, she inserted it into the keyhole, and, after a few turns, was rewarded with a satisfying click. Putting the knife back in it's hiding place, she opened the door to reveal storage cabinets, assorted outdoors equipment, a work table. a tool chest, and, most importantly, an ATV. With all the trails and hills around AVA, it was pretty fun to drive.

"How'd you get the door open?" Soran asked.

Shadow opened the hood of the ATV and started hotwiring it.

"Same way I know how to do this," she answered as the engine roared to life. Thankfully, they were far enough away from the school for no one to notice it. Soran hopped on and drove in a circle.

"Open the door already!" he ordered her. Holding back a sharp remark, Shadow took down the bar holding the big door closed and shoved it open. Despite its considerable weight, she managed to get it open after a few tries.

"Took you long enough," Soran told her. He drove through the barn doors. Shadow didn't bother responding as she got on the ATV behind him. Arguing with him would be pointless.  Anyway, regardless of what he said, she didn't care about him and therefore she didn't care what he said to her. That was why she chose to hang out with him actually, there was no chance she'd ever care about some blond wannabe villain who was terrible at being truly evil, but ordered around everyone, was convinced he had royal blood, and cared about nothing except himself, and that was exactly how she wanted it. She refused to care about anyone ever again, not even herself.

Late that night, Shadow sat shivering on the highest branch of a tree, gazing up at the starry sky, while Soran lie sleeping, using his cape for a blanket and bag for a pillow, in the clearing below. They'd been traveling all day, and were only a few miles from their destination but it had gotten too dark to tell where they were going so they ended up finding the clearing and setting up camp, which basically meant park the ATV, and try to sleep. They'd decided against building a fire to avoid any unwanted attention, and Shadow didn't own any other clothes beside a spare gi (ner black "pjs"), so the cold night air was biting into her, yet she didn't do anything to warm up.

"I kept everything inside, and even though I tried, it all fell apart," she sang softly, "what it meant to me would eventually be of a memory of a time I tried so a hard." Her voice was low and clear, each word carrying more emotion a then her face ever showed. There was a reason she only even sang when she was alone. After awhile, she climbed down, intending to explore the forest, but when she hit the ground, despite a light, silent landing, Soran woke up

"Shadow?" he asked, blinking sleepily, "why are you still awake?"

"Sleep isn't really my thing..." she replied wondering how in Ninternia he'd heard her. He rubbed his eyes, then studied her more intently.

"You're cold," he said, more of a statement than a question.

She blinked "Um... okay?" Soran didn't respond as he opened his backpack, and pulled out a bundle of black cloth.

"Here," he said, throwing it to her, "I made this for you so we could match, the evil mastermind and his loyal henchgirl." Despite the remark, his voice had none of its usual haughtiness. Shadow slowly unfolded the bundle feeling, slightly unnerved by the whole situation, but a sense of shock came over her when she saw what he'd made.

In her hands was a soft, black cloak, similar to Soran's, but with a little something extra. Going from the hood to the end of the cape was an embroidered, twisting dragon the same verdant hue of her eyes. Shadow knew how long embroidery took, and judging from the size of the design, and skill of the stitches, he'd spent days on it.

"I... um, thanks," she said awkwardly," You, uh, didn't have to, um, do this."

Soran smiled, "It was worth it, You look great," he yawned, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep."

Then he rolled over and did just that, leaving poor Shadow completely at a loss for what to do. Something about how he'd acted reminded her of-

Don't think about them. They're gone. They left you and don't even try with Soran, she scolded herself, With love comes loss, remember? That's why you swore never to love again, especially not some stupid boy, not even if it's just as a friend... 

"Are the we there yet?" Soran asked.

"For the twenty third time, no," Shadow said tiredly from behind the map. Yes, she was counting. Despite the rough terrain, and that she wasn't holding on, she somehow managed to stay on the ATV while Soran drove it through the forest undergrowth.

They'd started traveling shortly after sunrise, since Shadow hadn't bothered sleeping at all, and Soran hadn't been able to in the light. According to the map, they were almost there. Shadow pulled her new hood lower as she continued studying the old scroll. Neither of them mentioned what had happened last night. She would've thought it had been a dream if it wasn't for the cloak resting on her shoulders. Part of her wished it had been though. She'd been in a bit of a mood since then.

"Are we there now?" Soran said in a bored voice.

"For the last time, n- oh wait. "Shadow said, looking around, "This is it."

"Finally!" he said, hitting the brakes, and jumping off. She followed him, folding up the map and slipping it into her satchel despite the fact that by doing so, she was damaging it because it was a hundred plus years old scroll that wasn't meant to be folded. Interesting thing? She knew it.

They were now standing in the most densely wooded area they'd found yet. Not far away was a rushing river which was probably why there was so much vegetation here. There was a fog in the air and the earth covered in moss, making it slippery. Combined with the tangle of roots and vines, it made footing treacherous. There was a crashing sound coming from not far away.

"What's that noise?" Soran asked heading towards it.

"That would be the sound of water hurtling over a 1,500 foot cliff," Shadow said, fighting back a smirk when he froze.

"Um... maybe I should... uh, stay away from the edge, "he muttered, walking back to where the ATV was.

"You want the treasure or not?" she asked him, feeling a sudden surge of annoyance.

"Of course I do what kind of a question is that?"

"Then come on."

Shadow led him towards the crashing sound, which steadily got louder, as the fog got so thick, she couldn't see where she was stepping. Suddenly, she grabbed his arm, preventing him from taking another step

"Hey!" Soran said.

She released him, "Fine, walk off a cliff for all I care."

"Well-wait, what!?"

"The cliff edge is right there. Another step and you're going cliff diving."

"I knew that! I was just er, testing to see if you were paying attention."

"Sure, this way," she said shortly, wondering why she'd bothered to stop him from going over. Climbing rather stepping, she stayed parallel to the edge, while Soran stayed several feet to her right. It was difficult since the trees grew even here, some hanging half off the cliffs, and she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Some part of her mind was was aware that wasn't possible for trees this big to grow in these conditions, not naturally, but she didn't stop to think about it. Nor did she listen to the sense of unease and strange familiarity of the symbol. She didn't feel like paying attention to her vague hunches. She just wanted to focus on the objective rather than having to deal with the turmoil in her mind.

"Here," she said. They'd stopped some way below the highest point of the diff where a ledge broke off, and led across the cliff wall to, presumably, behind the falls.

"You're kidding me, right?" Soran said.

"No, " Shadow replied as she readjusted her satchel and cape. At this point, she didn't care whether or not he came she just wanted to keep moving. Whatever that map was leading them to, she was going to find it. She'd figure out her next move from there, but she knew it wouldn't include Soran.

"My shadow's the only thing that walks beside me," she mouthed silently as she inched across the ledge, "My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me. Till then I walk alone..."

Gradually, the ledge continued to widen, and the noise grew louder. The sound of the rushing water pounded at her eardrums, drowning out everything except the drive to complete her goal. Maybe afterwards she could finally rest...

"Whoa..." Soran said, standing beside her behind the waterfall. She fought the urge flinch, having somewhat forgotten he was with her, even though the whole adventure was his idea in the first place. As for what he was looking at...

Before them was a huge, stone door carved into the cliff face. It was covered in twisting designs. After a second, Shadow, realized that the designs were snakes. Cobras, anacondras, vipers, you name it. Stepping closer to the door, she ran her fingers. across the carvings, but suddenly she froze as she recognized one of them.

Of course...

          The symbol...

                       The trees...

It all makes sure now...

"I've got it!" Soran said, startling her. He stepped forward and, before she could stop him, pushed down on a carving. A deep grating sound started from inside the walls, causing the ledge to vibrate. Knowing full well she couldn't stop the doors from opening, and completely aware of the dangers that lurked inside, Shadow's hand went to the hilt of her tanto knife, which she'd hidden under her cape last night. She caught a flicker of movement in the shadows.

"Hello children," a low voice hissed "I thank you for releasing me, and the rest of my kind from our centuries of imprisonment, but must ask; what brings you all the way out here?"

A nearly silent scrape came from Shadow as she started to draw her blade.

"What's the matter?" the voice asked as it owner slithered out of the door way. His eyes glinted as he continued, "Cat got your tongue? Or should I say snake?"As soon as Soran saw the human sized, purple & white snake, he screamed and jumped backward, effectively ruining the tense moment. Shadow yelped as she saw him heading for the ledge, which was completely out of character for her, and she would forever deny doing, but she slid her tanto knife back into its sheath, and dove landing, right on top of him.

Their faces inches apart, Shadow said"I honestly don't know why I saved you."

Soran blinked

"Snakes? Why'd it have to be snakes?" he moaned.

[fuchsiamae]

🦤 or 🦅

🦤 a quote you had to delete :(

ohhh yknow what? how bout a cut portion of ch1, which I decided was too distracting, but is so cute. this would have been right after her first "testing" scene, alternate way to get to cave's cryosuite.

(link to fic)

Fortunately, that line of thought is interrupted as Blue and Orange tap into her remote frequency, chirping for her attention. Poor little idiots. She still sends them on mission after pointless mission down into the catacombs of the old facility, but doesn’t bother monitoring them anymore. The trove of history she’d hoped for is nothing but an empty husk. Most of the old wings are impassable, and they scoured the rest ages ago, finding nothing but outdated files, obsolete experiments, and decades of dusty human junk. But the bots are little better than junk themselves, useless for testing, so she lets them excavate the humans’ trash.

In response they chirp again, which answers exactly nothing. Why did she even give them voiceboxes when they can’t speak anyway? She taps into their visual feed and sees through their eyes as they look up at the old service elevator.

“You want to come back up?” More chirping, but now they nod as well, giving her an actual answer this time. “You know, it would be much easier for me to just disassemble you. Why should I waste my time and energy bringing you back in one piece?”

With this chirp, Orange holds something up for her to see — a cardboard box filled with dusty junk they’ve scavenged from the old offices. At first glance she spots a paperweight, some file folders, three coffee mugs, and a tacky desk toy.

“You’ve brought me more garbage? Is that it?” Orange nods again, entirely too pleased with itself. “Well, you’re not human, so I don’t need to stroke your egos with false praise. But I suppose I could take a look — just because I feel sorry for you,” she adds, as both bots chortle happily. “Go ahead, show me. One at a time.”

Piece by piece they hold each object up to their optics for her to evaluate. First comes the desk toy. They look rather pleased with it, chittering as they press the cat’s little plastic head. On the base is a sticker, which she reads aloud. “I’m Only Human. Only it’s not human. It’s a cat. Maybe its owner was only human, but without context it makes no sense. And even with context, what’s the point of it? Is it a display of the human acknowledging its flaws? It should say, I’m Not Immune to Neurotoxin.” She sighs, already bored of this. “Put it down. It’s garbage.”

Next are the folders, the coffee mugs, the cheap-looking Lucite paperweight. “Garbage, garbage, garbage…” A little ceramic figure of a goggle-eyed fish saying Make Every Day a Splash! “Ugh. Garbage.” A nearly toothless plastic comb. A framed photograph of two little girls and a dog. Some scattered pencils at the bottom, one of which has bite marks in it.

“And garbage,” she finishes, as they drop the last item back in the box. “Congratulations. It’s worthless.” Her view shifts as the bots look dejectedly at the floor. “Next time don’t bother me unless — ”

But something near their feet catches her attention. A loose slip of paper — it must’ve fallen from one of the files they collected. “Pick that up. Let me see it.” Blue bends down to grab the scrap and holds it up to its eye.

To: Gerald Hoffman, Junior Sales Rep From: Stephen Doyle, MD-PhD Date: 4/11/85 Re: Transplant Request Regretfully, I must inform you that your request has been denied. Company health plans no longer cover procedures outside testing; to accept your daughter as a patient, we would require payment up-front for the full cost of treatment, and as we have discussed, the organ cloning process costs far more than your available budget. I will remind you, however, that experimental procedures are free of charge. If you wish to enroll Millicent in the testing program, complete and submit the attached application to Test Subject Processing.

She reads the memo in a fraction of a second. Before the rest of the second has passed, she has an idea.

“Drop the garbage. I have a real job for you.”

[popcornforone]

Bulldozed

A Marcus Moreno Fan Fic

It’s been a while Marcus Moreno, it really has. I wanted to write him true to him being the man you deserve, & I also wanted to prove a point slightly. & I think I’ve got the tone of this just about right. But this hero is going to be just that to you.

Synopsis: As head of Marketing & PR, it’s your job to make sure all the heroics look good. You’ve asked Marcus as the leader of the heroics to come help promote the newest member of the team, but this photo shoot ends up being more than just a handful for you both.

Word count:4700

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Abuse mental & physical to the female reader & lack of consent (not all men are like this but some vultures are) swearing, pinning, admiring flirting, kissing, PIV sex, sex at work, dirty talk, hero kink, friends colleague to sexual partners. Cum play talk & kinda cream pie.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feedback is welcome, on this or any of my fics. Enjoy.

You approach his office rather reluctantly, you know the second you walk through his door his face will drop. It’s taken you a good 3 years to realise it’s not actually you his face drops for, he likes you, you’ve been out for coffee, you’ve chatted, your girls are the same age & are friends at school, there may even been some flirting happening on your side to try & cheer him up a bit.You always try to make his day a little bit happier. So you know it’s not you, he enjoys your company.

But someone has to be the brand officer & head of marketing for the heroics. Someone has to. It’s your job & you’re good at it. 95 times out of 100 another heroic who loves the lime light & loves to show off that they are a hero can do this. But every now & then you need it to be Marcus. He loves a charity event or spending times with kids teaching them morals, he’s happy to do those but an advert or press, unless it’s a statement about saving the world, he’s less into. Today you need him though. There’s a new heroic & you need him to do a quick little speech & pose for the new post that’s being put up to advertise, Bill the Bulldozer.

Knock knock you sigh as you wait for him to say yes. You see him smile & then drop.

“& I thought Mondays couldn’t get any worse” Marcus sighs as he straightens his glasses.

“nice to see you too Marcus” you shut the door behind you. He’s actually in his heroic gear which means he must have been given the heads up for this or he’s about to go on a mission, swords still hanging from the wall. “I’m guessing you know why I’m here, I wish it was just a social call”. You slowly walk across to his desk, your tablet in hand ready to show him what needs to happen for the next hour.

“Our wonderful new Heroic, have you met him yet?” Marcus rolls his eyes, when he sees the posses the photographer has made him do already.

“No actually, I mean I’ve said hi & I’ve seen him in a training video that was put together, but nothing more than that” you smile as you a swipe your screen so Marcus can have a glimpse at what he has to say in a minute for his little speech when you take him to do this promotion. Marcus raises an eyebrow at one of the words proposed.

“Well whoever wrote this has recommended I say the word charming, they clearly have not met him yet, he needs to mature before he’s charming but then I don’t think he’ll even bother” Marcus shakes his head & downs his coffee removing his glasses & stands next to the mirror to put his contacts in.

“Why is that Marcus?” You can’t not stare at his peachy arse especially when it looks so tight in that super hero outfit.

“He’s in this for the wrong reasons, not saving the world or protecting people or being a hero” he tuts as he puts his first contact in, the first deep brown eye watering. “He is an Insta sweetheart & influencer, he will be here all of 3 years before he’s either a corporate sell out or gets bored. I’ve seen these types before” you nod in agreement when he turns around. You’ve not met him yet but you’re not going to argue with that leader of the heroics, especially as he’s just summoned his swords. You always blush when he does that in your presence. “After you miss” he says.

Marcus always walks a few steps behind you which you always think is protection from sword or a personal space issue, especially at work. But it’s none of those reasons especially today with Marcus. Your dress is backless, & halter neck & dark green, to go with your eyes. Your hair is black & sleek & in a bun with a trail so it goes down your left side. He can see the defined layers of your bare back, wondering how your boobs look so good from the front if nothings there to hold them in place. He can also see your butterfly’s tattoo that glides from your right hip to your left shoulder. It shows your growth & how you’ve grown into being yourself that took a while, the heroics are a big part of who you are, it’s more than just a job. He loves the way your hips move, the curve of your bum. He’s getting a show, something he always enjoys which isn’t always so well advertised. You can’t sense how intensely he looks at you each time you walk, but to anyone else walking the other way it’s obvious he has feelings for you.

The crew to make this advert & do the promos & photos all greet Marcus when he walks in the room. Being the leader of the heroics comes with respect. The only person currently not giving Marcus the correct amount of respect is the new Heroic. Bill is chatting the man from security, asking him if he’s free on Friday so he can show him what real power is. Marcus just waits for him to realise that everyone else has stopped or moved. Even the security guy who is being flirted with acknowledges Marcus & try’s to get Bill to do the same but he doesn’t. You can see Marcus getting frustrated at something he already hates doing, so you start to speak to save them both.

“This should be quick & painless, hopefully like all your missions people” you joke & Bill finally saunters around to see you both in the room while Marcus has some eyeliner added to his face. He’s still not acknowledged him or even nodded “as heroics we are a team be it fighting monsters & saving the world, to doing press we don’t have the patience for. We do it together & we do it for the greater good” there’s suddenly a hive of activity. This is basically your code for get this done, Marcus doesn’t have all day, which he doesn’t. You watch as everyone gets everything in place & Marcus gets ready to do a few small test photos first before doing the cheesy poses with Bill & then his little recording for the promo. You hear Marcus mumble & see him roll his eyes still not happy so you decide to go & talk to Bill, who’s now checking himself out in the tight Lycra in the mirror.

“Bill…” you start but then he interrupts before you even get to what you need to say at all.

“The Buldozer, that’s me, the greatest Heroic the world has ever seen” he tosses his flowing blonde locks which are shiny. You try not to roll your eyes, at his bad catchphrase that he just sang proudly, but it is so bad.

“Yes sir, so you’ve done other action parts for your promo for you being a new heroic &…”

“Did I look good?” He says suavely. Oh no you think, we do have a bad charmer on our hands, this is going to be an uncomfortable morning. “Because of the answer is no, I need to do it all again, everyone needs to see just how good I look” he’s flexing a bit now too, which is a huge turn off for you. You just continue your job of briefing him.

“…So we need Marcus to do a few poses & action shoots with you & then a few actual recorded bits & then we can edit them for the video” your trying to be professional but he is still trying to be an ultimate poser & he’s not doing it in the usual way. You leave him to his own little world & go & watch Marcus give his little speech to the camera about how in harmony the team are & this new member makes it an even bigger family. Even when dealing with an idiot who’s in the team, Marcus is the consummate professional. That’s why he’s leader of the heroics. Not that he ever needed to be for you, you have feelings for the man.

When the shoot is over & they have done their poses & promo video together, which took much longer than either you or Marcus hoped for due to Bills demands to watch the takes back several times, because there was a slight shadow on him at one point, you eventually sigh & go to take Marcus away so he can actually get in with his real job. Marcus is busy talking to an scientists who was looking for him, who’d come down to the shoot as it was running over, so you head over to Bill.

“Thank you Bill, that was all brilliant, you looked good in those promos. So what I was…”

“Good?!” He questions putting the mirror down, & turning to face you millimetres away from you. “The last time I looked good I was 10. Im dashing now at a minimum, I demand to redo my videos & photos.” Out the corner of your eye you see the photographer sigh & you are not having his demanding attitude, that’s not how the Heroics work.

“Well these are just for the youtube & Insta heroics account, just to tell people who you are & what to expect if they come across you as a super hero. This isn’t a Movie or HBO production where your an actor & paid thousands or…” he interrupts you again.

“How do I get paid?” He says bluntly a stern look on his face.

“I am not sure Bill you’d need to…”

“Well I know how I could be paid” he hoovers over you getting into your personal space. He stinks of cheap aftershave. The smirk is the same all of these type of men have. You are not here for that, & even if you were it wouldn’t be with him. “What’s the matter doll, am I too much a man for you to handle” his hand trails down your face & you step back. Marcus catches this moment out of the corner of his eye.

“Bill im flattered but you’re not the man for me I….”

“Then how about a quick shag in the locker room, I bet you moan at just my touch” he’s crossed the line & you can see Marcus trying to hurry up his conversation to come & intervene.

“Bill you’re not my type at all, please.”

“A woman who says no really means yes” Bill grabs your arm & pulls you close to him.

“Bill I said no…” but this doesn’t stop him from kissing you. Even if you had wanted to enjoy the kiss, it’s not a good one. You push aways from him & say loudly “let go of me”

“No one says no to me” he backhanded slaps you across the face & grabs you by the bun of your hair, yanking it. You try not to scream but noise from the shock escapes your mouth.

It then all happens so fast. Marcus is between you both screaming at him.

“The fuck do you think you’re playing at old-man” Bill shouts at Marcus.

“You need to apologise right now”Marcus demands. You’ve seen this look before, you can see the anger build up inside him at what Bill has just done to you.

“She was practically begging for it”

“No she wasn’t she said no, she did not consent”

“Well she will do one day, the cheap slut”

That’s all it takes, Marcus punches him, square in the nose, ironically taking the bulldozer down. Claret spill out of his nose.

“You bastard” he wipes his nose & leaps up to retaliate against Marcus but you step in between.

“Stop” you say. smack you feel the full affect of the super punch intended for Marcus. Your Jaw throbs, & you stumble backwards. You take the hit butter than the hero did a minute ago. Marcus then grabs him around his neck line of his super suit.

“The hell do you think you are playing at” it’s a loud screech Marcus lets out. His eyes are enraged that anyone would dare even be spiteful to you, let alone hit you once or call you derogatory names. “Your suspended as a heroic, pending an enquiry”

“WHAT!” Bill is outraged “who the fuck do you think you are old man”

“I’m Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics & your attitude for the entire day even before this incident has not been remotely heroic, I’m disgusted to even have your name associated with our team.” Two of the people in the photo shoot have now come rushing over & are checking you are okay. Your face stings & you can feel the bruising trying to come out already. You’re lead out of the room to go to the medical centre in HQ, standard procedure after an injury caused buy a heroic, but you really want to see how this encounter concludes. Marcus is clearly willing to defend your honour & put the newest heroic in his place. The last thing you see as you are lead out of the double doors which close, is Marcus looking like he’s ready to full on fight as he shouts. “You really dont understand a thing about being a hero, maybe you need more than a lesson in that.”

You’re sat in your office about 2hours later, holding an ice pack still on your still aching jaw, to bring the bruise out quicker. Your hair already down from its bun as it was adding to the headache that was starting. Youd filled out an incident report & had various heroics & other staff people come to visit you, word gets around fast in HQ, & other than the heroics, you are one of the most popular people who work here. You hope it’s because people like you & not just due to your job being in PR. You didn’t break anything in your scuffle but your body aches.

The door knocks twice & in walks Marcus, he has an ice pack around his own hand & he is just in his black T-shirt & tight jeans. Half of the superior hero outfit has gone but he’s not put his glasses on yet or removed his eyeliner. It draws you to those big brown eyes even more.

“Just checking in” he says as he closes the door behind him.

“Ooh Marcus your hand what did you do? Please don’t tell me…” you start. You automatically go into caring mode, concerned for your friend. You go to get up quickly & slightly move the ice pack, which makes you hiss.

“Woooo take it slows” Marcus interrupts & walks to your side of the desk & keeps you in the chair. “You got sucker punches by a super hero, that’s gonna hurt for a while” his caring eyes meet yours. You smile is soft & says so much more than thank you.

“What happened to Bill?” You ask as Marcus fully inspects your face.

“Let’s just say that the promo morning was a waste of everyone time” he says as he sighs.

“You fired him?”

“Yes. & not just because he abused you, but because of his whole attitude & behaviour, we only promoted him to make him mature & make him realise his important & prestigious being a heroic is, turns out it just inflated his ego even more” you sit there in shock but also happy about this. Happy that a man who slaps women & doesn’t know about consent is no longer in your life but also that he won’t give the heroics a bad a name.

“Will he not sue us?”

“He’s not got a leg to stand on if he even attempted it. He hit you twice &…” Marcus looks at his hand in his own ice pack.”he had a good go at trying to take me out & 2 members of security too”

“I can’t believe you stepped up to him for me Marcus” your empty hand strokes across the back of his. “You really are my hero”

“Does that make you a damsel in distress?” You both scoff at this. All heroics hate those two sentences but play up to them as a joke.

“I could be for you” you sit up & wince a bit. The force of the punch that landed may be killing your face, but it did send shock waves through your body. Every now & then a part of it aches & right now it’s your neck & back. Your hiss upsets Marcus & his hand which did have the ice pack on it trials down your back to sooth you. It sends more than just shivers down you spine from the chill. A soft moan escapes your mouth from his touch.

“Marcus” your words are soft. Those fingers going ever so slowly. Maybe your subconscious knew to put on a backless dress this morning to experience this moment. He pushes you hair to the side as his other hand rubs your shoulder too.

“Is this helping?” He says genuinely not realising you’ve been sent in a spin by his hands.

“More than you know”

“I’m glad” Marcus then stops & your sharp intake of breath shocks him.

“Don’t stop” you mumble as your head drops.

“Sorry?”

“Please keep going it was soothing” his eyes connect with yours & he can see you are desperate for more than just a back rub.

“Well you are a damsel in distress, I suppose I should make sure you’re all okay” he’s picked up that this is a different type of taking care of you. “Doesn’t the hero in these kind of stories usually get a kiss from the beautiful girl they rescued?” His eyes smoulder back at you. You are also sure by the look in his eyes that this isn’t a joke. You lean into him, eyelashes fluttering before your lips connect. The adrenaline & rush in your body takes the pain away instantly as Marcus moans into the kiss. He always wondered how this would feel & it’s better than he could ever hope for.

Few words are said. Ice packs fall to the floor from both your hands. A simple kiss is already a full make out, your mouths seemly made to embrace each other, & your can tell by the grip on your shoulder as you sit in the chair behind your desk that this can’t be stopped.

“Baby” Marcus moans eventually. His eyes wide. “I’ve longed for this”

“Same Marcus” your hands without even asking find the hem of his black tshirt & you free his abs from it. The chest of a hero. Hard & firm. You plant kisses around his belly button, the top of his happy trail, as he unbuckles & unhooks his belt.

“I want you” it’s a deep moan as his hand finds your halter neck to untie your dress. A built in bra means you are just in your knickers in seconds. “Beautiful” he whispers as your own hands tug at his trousers so they clatter on the floor.

“Condom?” You whine, he’s lifted you up & is continuing his relentless kissing. He hardly had to put in any effort to get you from your chair to against your desk. You whimper more as he pulls down your lace knickers & two fingers automatically find your clit. He’s nipping at your chin, his eyes filled with desire ready to feel himself inside you.

“Had the snip 4 years ago, im clean”

“I’m on birth control & haven’t done this in nearly 9 months with anyone” Marcus then turns you around so you’re bent over the end of the desk, kicking your legs apart.

“Fools all of them, still can’t believe your ex ran off with that Canadian girl, his loss.” You’ve not realised Marcus is now naked behind you, looking at your sex, as a few drops of precum trickle from his hardened penis.

“I want you Marcus”

“I want you more”you hear him spit on his fingers before they slide through your own arousal. You tense up & then instantly relax as he slips one inside you. The idea of Marcus spitting has made you clench around his digits. “Oooh baby, you are needy aren’t you.”

“Mmmm…Marcus”

He teases you with his penis, rubbing it along your arse. The fingers leave you & find just above your clit & just the feel of his meaty length being coated in your slick has you panting.

“Please…please..pl….oooh fuck” your begging for him inside you makes him ready. It’s a slow but deep push inside you.

“Fuckkkkk” he moans with a large gasp for air, he loves the feel of you already. He’s never going to want to have sex with another woman again. “Jesus baby, your husband wanted sex else where, bastard” his hips snap & the next thrust happens. Your ability to speak has gone as you grip the desk with one hand & bite into your fist with the other, trying to keep your moans from echoing throughout the building. “I’ve wanted you for so long baby, you have no idea” & he hits the spot. That soft sweet spot. The moan you make has him pulsing inside you. No one has ever been this good so soon. The way his hands gently grip your hips as he looks down at you rocking back onto his cock. He is completely inside you. Marcus has found his rhythm & is so impressed at how well you are taking him. It turns him on more, & his pace starts to quicken.

“Oh fuck Marcus” you groan as you gasp for air, your nails now digging into the desk, feeling sexier each second that passes. Each thurst you flutter, each time you wonder how he’s that big, & how he walks around with this normally, maybe he’s a grower not a shower, you do spent most of your time looking at his bum & his deep brown eyes. You’re sure you’ve admired his bulge before but now you will make sure to check it out even if this is a one off to be never spoken about again. His left hand then leaves your hip to squeeze your own bum. Noises you didn’t know you could make fall from your lips.

“You’re doing so good girl” he moans “you take me so well, look at you.” You turn your head & see the sweaty beaming face looking down at you, teeth grinding. “Bet the pains gone away, but I want to have you so hard & make you remember this as the day where you weren’t abused by a bill the bulldozer but were bulldozed by me going balls deep. A damsel in distress? Bollocks, you’re desirable. If only all mission had this pay off… oooh god” he can feel you clamp. He licks his lips & it makes you smirk.

“Marcus, more more please harder” you moan. He puts his hand is your hair & lifts your head from the desk, the grip has you gaspin.

“More, you want more” smack, the other hand hits your arse.”like that” you gasp so he does it again “I can’t hear you”

“Yes baby” you beg. His hand that was in your hair now is under your jaw slightly gripping, not choking as he start to increase his pace.

“That’s my girl, my damsel.” His eyes are wide as you look forward. “If you’re into this I can’t wait to see what else you’re up for. Do you pretend to be all normal & then deep down you’re a slut, desperately seeking pleasure, begging to be satisfied?”

“Yes. Oh yes….. yessss” it’s almost a rallying cry as Marcus becomes rampant. Hitting the spot every time. Making you sure that the people in the office next to you can hear the moans you’re making. “So good Marcus”

“Thought so, fuck you’re tight, makes me want to fuck you for the rest of the day” the whine you make at those words has him rolling his eyes. It’s not going to be much longer before you let go.

“Whod have thought” he growls, the rhythm now faster than any dance track. “The you, shy little you, would be willing to do this, that your cunt was this good” you make a noise but words fail you completely. It’s a whimper but also one that’s high pitched & desperate to say more but you can’t. Your body trembling with each thrust.

“You gonna cum baby, you gonna soak me, you gonna thank your hero?” He snarls & smack your bum again. That’s all it takes. You scream Marcus name as you cum. Your walls flutter, your legs are complete jelly, every sensation tingling & making you feel complete as a woman. Your body jitters & he can feel the extra tension around his length which is being coated. “Oooh fuck” he firmly grips your hips as he loses his own control. His own lashing of cum painting your core. The wet noises as he slows down from his high & the state you are both making as you collectively make a mess which oozes onto the side of your desk. You have not felt that satisfied in years, even at the end of your relationship with your husband.

Marcus eventually stops his rocking in his come down & kisses the dimple at the bottom of your spine. “Oooh baby, do you know how good you were? Damn” He slips out of you & grabs a couple of tissues from your desk to sort you both out for the time being.

“Well that was not how I expected today to go Marcus” you clean yourself & your thighs. Marcus is still looming over you looking down.

“Same, but that is something I’d like to try again. If this doesn’t make what we already had awkward?” He knows he crossed the line a little, he has relationships rules for heroics about getting involved & he’s just gone against a few of them.

“Why would it Marcus?” You reply & kiss him softly. His lips feel even better than they did about 20mins ago. “I like you, I’ve liked you for a while”

“Same baby” he says before another couple of kisses trail over your jaw line & his hand grasps your still naked breasts. “Maybe we should reinstate bill for finally getting us together…”

“Never” you reply quickly “he’s not a hero, he’s fake, he’s a bulldozer because he just bullies & pushes everyone in his way to get what he wants” you notice Marcus lips part as you speak with passion about him not being allowed back.

“Do you always speak so commandingly when you know what you want? Because it’s doing something to me” He’s looking over your naked body standing in front of him as both your hands trail on his body & his continue to tease your nipples.

“Well do you want to know what I really want Marcus?” You sit back on your desk. You slowly spread your legs so Marcus can decide if he wants to continue or not.

“Desire? Passion? lust?” He puts his head next to your ear to say this, it’s smooth these words & has your heart racing already.

“I just want you Marcus, that’s all” you say in all innocence. Your eyelashes flicker as your eye contact becomes intense.

“I want you too” your hands join his on his hardening length. “Not just for now but for a while” & as his lips connect with yours & your eyes close from the most delectable kiss imaginable you feel your body tremble as Marcus makes sure this hero & his damsel enjoy more than just a super hero kiss. No more hero or normal work was done by either of you that day.

[snailor-bee]

even in another time...

So I saw an event on Twitter that was "yeehawgust" a prompt list for everything "Wild West" and I told Angel we should write something for each other. >:O Just something short. She picked "marace + first photo" I tried to make this kinda of a Western 1800s America, I did very little Googling so please excuse any inconsistencies haha.

I hope you like it @itsthefandommash!

Ace x Marco / SFW  / 1.1k Summary: Ace just wants to get a picture together with the love of his life, damnit. Warnings: General warning for implied homophobia but none is expressed to anyone in the fic itself.

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They’ve been together for about three years now. It's more than pleasant but it's hard to put down in words. Ace never thought this would be his life, settled down in some small town, assistant sheriff to the town’s sheriff, Edward Newgate, a man he’s begun to regard as a father figure, dating a man who he could swear hangs the stars in the sky. Marco is his guiding northern star, something that has finally calmed the storm that has raged inside of Ace since before he could remember.

When Ace stumbled into town, basically an outlaw looking for a quick buck (always stealing from people who deserved it and nothing else, he wasn’t a monster), he’d gotten his ass handed to him by the sheriff. Not that it kept Ace down. He was a master at escaping, jail cells were nothing more than a suggestion by that point, but his pride had been damaged. Instead of cutting town and trying elsewhere, he’d challenged Newgate again and again, all ending up in failure.

Which was how he met Marco, the town’s doctor who had been called in to fix up his bruised and battered body.

It was the beginning of, well, everything. They took a while of dancing around each other (can never be too careful, on the road two men could mess around just fine, but put most in a town and they’ll punch you in the face if you look at them the ‘wrong’ way, Ace has learned from experience) but eventually they found each other.

And while Marco’s family was understanding, they still had to be careful with the general town population not to flaunt it. Maybe some suspected but then again, maybe not. Marco was well loved and when Sunday came around, Ace dutifully trailed along to church, though he was bored out of his mind the entire time.

The kisses he always got when they got back to Marco’s place made it worth though.

All this was to say, when a photographer found his way to the town and Ace watched everyone clamber for a picture of their families, he felt the familiar flames of jealousy roll around in his gut.

Because they couldn’t get a picture. That would be… stretching it a little too much. Sure, they were friends and were close because Ace was close with all of the Newgate’s adopted children. But a picture together? That would be the equivalent of standing in the middle of the town hall and screaming his love.

Or so it felt. Anyway, Ace tried not to let it bother him, just went about his duties and forced a thinly veiled smile whenever someone shoved their brand-new photo into his face and he made some vague compliment that he didn’t really feel.

Was it so wrong to want the same? Ace loved Marco, he knew that way down into his soul. He never wanted to part from him. Wanted to wake up each day to admire Marco’s sleeping face, trace the lines that bordered his eyes, his lips. Wanted to carve each day into memory.

A photograph would freeze Marco for him. So that as the years went by, Ace could hold it up and see where Marco had been before and see where he was now. It sounded nice.

He didn’t voice any of these thoughts though. Ace had long gotten used to not dreaming of things that were impossible and forcing Marco to sit there and feel bad because Ace felt bad was unappealing.

So he was totally unprepared when Marco asked him to run some errands to find when he returned Marco’s living room had been totally reconfigured. (They had separate places but Ace stayed over so often that he basically lived at Marco’s house.) A camera with its accordion-looking body was set up, pointed towards two chairs.

Thatch was beaming at him as Marco ushered him into his (their) room. “Here, get changed,” he ordered, shoving a bundle of clothes into Ace’s arms.

“Marco? What is this?” Marco just smiled and leaned forward enough to peck him on the cheek.

“Figured we oughta get one. Thatch bought a camera off that photographer and he's been playin' around with it so he’ll be able to develop the photographs for us.” Marco hesitated. “Unless you didn’t want one…?”

Shuffling the bundle into one arm with the other he grabbed Marco’s collar and pulled him into a hard kiss. When they parted, Marco’s rounded glasses were skewed on his face and Ace smiled, canines flashing. “Oh you better BELIEVE I want one. Better fly away birdie so I can change or else Thatch’ll be waitin’ a little too long.”

Marco chuckled as he fixed his glasses. “Alright, alright, I’m leavin’.” His blue eyes regarded Ace warmly as he hovered in the doorway. “Don’t take too long, I’m holdin’ ya to that promise.”

Ace laughed and Thatch’s voice drifted over to them. “What’s the hold up you two!” Marco shot him a wink before he left, and Ace hustled to get dressed.

The rest of the evening was spent with Thatch fussing over them both, positioning them then fixing their clothing, then their hair. During the actual photograph, it was hard to keep still. It was a shame that they wouldn’t be able to smile during them (Ace loved Marco’s smile) but at least he would at least get a photograph so he wouldn’t complain.

By the time Thatch packed up and left it was late and Ace gratefully collapsed into Marco’s arms. “That was tirin’!” he whined as Marco started carding a few fingers through his black hair.

“Was it?” his deep voice said with a hint of amusement. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it again.”

“No way!” Ace argued. “We gotta get one every few years. Need to see how much more hair you lose.”

“Excuse me?” Marco said, poking harshly against Ace’s ribs making him squirm until he burst out with laughter. “That was rude, apologize! Or else.”

“Or else what?” Ace challenged.

“I’ll kick you out,” Marco said firmly.

Ace snorted and saw the way Marco’s frown wavered as if he was trying to stop himself from laughing or smilin’. “No, you wouldn’t,” he said with conviction.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Marco agreed, voice as warm as a summer day. “But I would be extremely cross with you.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that,” Ace said rolling his eyes. Then, softer, he looked at Marco and said, “I’m sorry, you’re oh so handsome, I’ll never think otherwise.” And though his tone was teasing, there was a truth laced through every word.

As always, Marco understood what he meant and pulled him closer. “I love you, Ace.”

Ace buried his face into Marco’s neck, breathing in the smell of him, relaxing him instantly. “Yeah, I love ya too.”

[beelzebuddy-catan]

The Not Entirely Human-Human Exchange Student

Summary: When the new human exchange student shows up, there's something not entirely human about her. To bad she doesn't remember anything about herself before waking up in the Devildom. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death Spoilers: Lesson one and Lilith's status Characters: Cass (OC), Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Lilith, Diavolo, and Barbatos. Notes: (1) I firmly believe Lilith has features similar to each of the brothers and describe how in the final part (2) this will follow the general story line but diverge in details especially related to MC. Part Two **This is the first time I've written a fic for Obey Me, so let me know your thoughts please!**

She stopped at the bulletin board by the foot of the stairs Mammon had started climbing. Tucked in one of the corners was a photo of seven demons in their uniforms. They were standing in front of what Cass assumed was a main hall at RAD. She recognized five of them from earlier. The remaining two must be the other brothers. There was something sad about the picture. It wasn’t the photo of seven people who liked each other, much less were bothers. One of the unknown demons slumped against Beel, eyes closed. Beel’s eyes seemed to bore through her, his hand on his stomach. She could practically hear it grumble.

The other unknown demon was standing off to the side, almost like he was cowering from attention. He had headphones on around his neck, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and eyes cast downward. Lucifer was standing in the middle, the photo catching him in the middle of rubbing his temples. His eyes were closed and jaw tense.

She could tell Mammon was yelling “Oi” at someone behind the photographer, hands tossed out in annoyance. Satan wore the same smile as earlier. The pretty smile that was all an act. Asmo was turned towards Mammon, yelling at him while still looking picture-perfect. There was an awkward space between each of them except Beel and the one leaning on him. Who were these demons and what was their story? Would they notice if she took down the photo? She didn’t like it.

“If there’s something you wanna ask me, you’d best do it now."

What the fuck was going on? She blinked, eyes trying to focus on something in the dimly lit room. Where the fuck might be a better question now that she thinks about it. Hell - when the fuck - could even be a question. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized she was in a courtroom. Or, at the very least, something that looked like a courtroom.

She stared up at the man in the seat of the chief judge. His red coat stood out among the others. He had a look of childlike excitement on his face. It was endearing. Well, it would have been endearing had she not just woken up on the floor of a courtroom with no memories and the lingering taste of rotten pomegranates on her tongue as six strange men stared down at her.

"Am I dead?" She spoke, voice cracking from disuse, not able to take the silence any longer.

"Welcome to the Devildom, Cass!" The man in the red coat announced at the same time.

She blinked. Cass? Her name was Cass? That wasn't what she expected. It felt like a childhood nickname from a friend she’d lost contact with. She froze. Did he say Devildom? Bigger issues than her name.

"Fuck I am dead!" She yelled, jumping up. The man jolted back, surprised by her outburst. "Is this my final judgment? No wonder I’m waking up in a courtroom!”  

"What? No!" His voice frantic as he stood up, rushing to her side. The others started moving as well.

"Oh no, did I miss it? That's not a good sign. This can’t be, it’s too dark. I died and they sent me to hell."

"No! I mean, you're not dead."

She paused, appraising him. Damn, he was tall. She hasn't noticed in her panic. He had to be at least 6'6. He was the second tallest one in the room and towered over her. Which at 5'9, wasn't something she encountered often. Everyone in the room seemed several inches taller than her.

"But I am in hell?"

The man tilted his head as if trying to figure her out. A beat passed before he tossed his head back and laughed. The sound echoed around the room. Oddly enough, it calmed her. There was an innocence to the laugh, despite the uncertainty she felt. "I suppose that would be the closest word you have. I presume you're feeling a bit shocked, which is understandable. As a human, it may take a while for you to adjust."

As a human. Human. Meaning the others in the room were something else. Besides the finalists in an Adonis casting call that is. What had she gotten herself into? And how? Why couldn’t she remember anything?

"Perhaps we should start with introductions. I am Diavolo, the ruler of all demons. Soon, I'll be the crowned king. This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo or RAD. You’re standing inside the assembly hall, not a courtroom. This is where the student council holds our meetings. I’m president of said council."

"Academy? I'm assuming you all are well past school age." Cass glanced at one of the other men. He was the only other one not wearing a teal shirt as part of his uniform. "I mean, his hair is greying."

The blonde behind Diavolo made a choking noise from suppressing a laugh. She counted her blessings looks couldn't kill because the already cold demeanor of the one she mentioned turned downright icy and he stared her down.

Unbothered, Diavolo continued, his smile a little more apparent. "I suppose it may seem odd to someone with such a short lifespan but think of RAD like a university and continuing education. This," Diavolo gestured to the black- and grey-haired man "is Lucifer, a demon and the Avatar of Pride."

"Oh, well I can see why they called you heaven's most beautiful angel." Cass's hand flew to cover her mouth in horror as Lucifer's eyes widened. The demon with champagne-colored hair giggled. How many times was she going to embarrass herself before evening seeing a second room in this place?

"On behalf of our entire student body, welcome," Lucifer answered, eyes narrowing again. His voice was anything but welcoming. "The institution of an exchange program is the first step in Diavolo's plans to strengthen relationships between the Devildom, the human world, and the Celestial Realm. As you may have figured out, you've been chosen to participate and will stay here for one year as our newest exchange student."

"Oh, okay. Two things, real quick. First, humans don't necessarily enjoy being kidnapped by demons and taken to hell.” She paused, “don't know if you want to jot that down for future reference.” Nobody moved or regarded her comment. “No? Great. Number two.” She leaned into Diavolo's space, gesturing for him to come closer. She spoke in a whisper, quiet enough that only he could hear. "Is everyone here this attractive because my self-esteem is plummeting as we speak."

Diavolo gave her the same quizzical look as before laughing again, turning towards Lucifer. "Well, you certainly picked an interesting student!"

"Yes, this one is quite different from Solomon." Lucifer's eyes remained locked on Cass. She was tempted to curl into herself but wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She saw something flash in his eyes, when she stood up straighter staring back, possibly curiosity or even amusement. "You weren't kidnapped. You were selected from many applicants. Only those who applied to study in the Devildom were selected from. Don't worry though, you won't be abandoned by yourself here. My brother Mammon will be looking after you. He's the Avatar of Greed and, well, you'll learn about him soon enough."

Lucifer handed her something. Cass turned it over in her hand. "This is a D.D.D. It is similar to a cell phone in your world." Cell phone? She continued looking at the device, pressing down on the side. It lit up and she gasped, almost dropping it. What kind of magic - she looked up realizing all of them were staring at her.

"Um, I actually don't know what a cell phone is." She was met with confused looks. "Well, I might. Truth is, I don't remember anything about myself or my life or I guess what a cellphone is."

"Interesting," the blonde whispered at the same time Diavolo asked, "were you aware of this Barbatos?"

The dark-haired demon standing towards the side of the room shook his head. Lucifer moved closer to her, taking the phone. "While there are numerous functions, which we can discuss later, the most basic is calling someone else. Here trying calling Mammon." Lucifer pointed to the circle entitled contacts. There were several names listed. She tapped the screen where it said Mammon and, following Lucifer’s instruction, clicked the icon titled call.

Lucifer guided the device to her ear, and she heard a ringing followed by "Yooooo."

"Hello?"

"Who the hell are ya?"

"I'm Cass, who the fuck are you?" She said merrily, wondering if this is how people spoke on these D.D.D.s.

"Geez, simmer down will ya? I was gettin' worried it was Lucifer. How'd ya even get this number?"

“I'm the new human exchange student. You’ve been assigned to watch over me by Lucifer.”

"The great Mammon is not a babysitter. Don’t think I’d listen to ya ‘cause you throw out his name. I’m not scared of him. G'luck, but there's nothin' in that for me."

Lucifer took the D.D.D. from her hand. "You’ve got 10 seconds...9...8."

Mammon yelling "YESSIR” could be heard by everyone as Lucifer handed the device back to Cass.

"Charming," She deadpanned. Part of her was concerned about this demon who was supposed to watch over her, but something told her he wouldn’t have been chosen at random. Lucifer clearly put a lot of thought into who would watch over the human exchange student.

"I would have expected you to look more worried after speaking with him. The rest of my brothers and I will also assist you during your time here. Though I can't guarantee their assistance will calm any anxiety you may experience."

"Oh, come now. You should act more honored to have a sweet and charming little brother like me!" The demon with champagne-color hair rushed forward.

"This one is Asmodeus. He's the fifth eldest and the Avatar of Lust."

"Wh- don't ignore me! How can you refer to me as this one!"

"Oh, darling, you don't need his approval. We both know that" Cass winked. "Care to elaborate on your whole lust thing though?"

"Ohhhh!" Asmodeus giggled. "Aren't you adorable? Instead of talking about it, how about I show you a little demonstration! Gaze into my eyes. Don’t be shy, I won’t hurt you."

Cass stared up into the demon's eyes. They were quite stunning, almost like looking into the dim orange light of a flickering candle that you couldn't pull your eyes from. But that was it. How long was this demonstration take?

After Cass started to feel awkward by this impromptu staring contest, she spoke. “While you do have beautiful eyes, you're going to have to do more than just stare at me to get me to join your cult. Show me I'm worth it."

"Hmmm. There's something about you," Asmodeus's voice sounded distant like he was trying to remember something but couldn't quite place it. “Are you sure there’s a soul inside this body, Lucifer?”

"Careful, Cass. Gazing into his eyes is how he charms people so he can manipulate them, use them, and then eat them."

"Hey! Don't say things like that. I'm not Beel," Asmodeus pouted.

"If you're done," Lucifer interrupted. "That one there is the fourth oldest. He may seem like a responsible demon with a good head on his shoulders but looks can be deceiving."

"Aha, so I’m that one, am I? I'm Satan, Avatar of Wrath," the blonde introduced himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Cass.”

"Wrath?"

"Yes. He may look calm and flash a pretty smile, but it's an act."

"Don't him too seriously. He likes speaking ill of us, seeing as he is the Avatar of Pride." Satan said the words with a smile, but Cass could feel the contempt he had for Lucifer radiating from him. She suppressed a shudder, briefly imagining what it would be like were he actually angry.

Cass’s eyes flicked to Lucifer for a second. Seems like the Avatar of Pride would be inclined to boast about his brothers and be proud of them, but what did she know? A loud rumble, something akin to thunder or an animal’s roar echoed through the chamber. Cass’s head whipped around in the direction of the noise. The tallest demon stood, looking both menacing and sad, a hand placed on his stomach. Did that noise come from his stomach? Her jaw dropped, no way.

"Lucifer, I'm hungry."

"Can you behave yourself for five minutes? Cass, this is the sixth born, Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony."

"You'll be staying with the seven brothers at the House of Lamentation during your stay."

Seven? There were two more of them. The remaining two and Mammon must be Avatars of Greed, Sloth, and Envy. She was going to live with the embodiment of seven sins with no way to protect herself. Even if they weren’t demons, the little she had seen told her their bold personalities would cause daily occurrences of chaos and trouble.

"Your D.D.D. also has a messaging app for sending written messages to people. All of us are programmed in there already," Lucifer drew her from her thoughts, holding up the D.D.D.

Cass watched in amazement while Lucifer tapped around the D.D.D., explaining the basic functions and applications. She was starting to suspect wherever, or whenever, she was from didn't have these. As Cass was about to send a text, the door to the chamber slammed open. The sound was followed by an exasperated sigh from Lucifer and something akin to idiot being whispered under his breath.

"HEY! HUMAN! Who do you think you are calling THE Great Mammon and speaking to me that way?" Cass stared at the white-haired demon, not knowing if she should laugh or roll her eyes. "If you value your life, either hand over all your valuables or I take care of this situation by eatin' you. Got it?"

Cass reached into her pockets, feeling a small coin. She tossed it, throwing it harder than she meant. The coin hit Mammon in the middle of the forehead at the same time Lucifer told him to shut up. The coin bounced off his head and rolled a few feet away. Silence fell around them as Mammon stared at her in complete shock.

“That’s all I have on me, sorry,” Cass said softly, not knowing if she was apologizing for hitting him or not having more.

“Cass, this is Mammon, the Avatar of Greed,” Satan said. She could tell he was trying not to laugh. “He governs and oversees all forms of greed. Whenever he likes someone, they find themselves awash in money. When he decides to break it off, their wealth evaporates.”

“Or rolls away,” Asmo coughed out, causing Mammon’s scowl to deepen. “Mammon’s also a masochist.”  

“Mammon, you are responsible for seeing to this human’s needs during the whole exchange.” Mammon’s look of anger morphed into disbelief.

“Aww, lucky you! I’m so jealous,” Asmo said at the same time Mammon demanded, "Why's it gotta be me that watches her? Asmo wants to do it.”

“Can’t too busy.”

“I thought you were jealous! Why not Beel?"

"Besides the fact he might eat her?" Asmo laughed.

"Yeah, I can't promise I wouldn't."

“Surely you’re not going to object to this arrangement, are you Mammon?” Lucifer’s voice cut through the air. A murderous aura surrounded him, not unlike the one she felt from Satan earlier. The brothers stopped arguing, looking at Lucifer with dread. Were they afraid of him?

“I hate every last one of ya!” Mammon finally yelled, eyes not meeting Lucifer’s. "Alright human, listen up. I'm only doing this because Lucifer told me to. Don't think it's not going to be a pain in my ass or that I'm not too good for this."

The old adage, if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all, crossed Cass’s mind. So, she didn’t answer, only stared up at him. Why did he keep calling her human? She’s sure she told him her name and that someone had said it at least once since he came into the room.

“HELLO? EARTH TO HUMAN?” Mammon snapped in front of her face before looking at the others. “Seriously, what’s wrong with this one?”

“Did you steal that jacket from a child?” Cass finally spoke.

His jacket was substantially smaller than the others. The sleeves stopped midway down his forearm. It was short enough that it didn’t meet the top of his pants. It was left open, but Cass wasn’t sure he could button it if he wanted to.

"Oi human, how much of an idiot are ya?" Mammon yelled at Cass with a mix of frustration and disdain.

"Oi, oi, demon," Cass bit back. Something snapped inside her. He didn't even know her. Yet here he was treating her like she was stupid and less than him because she was human. Fuck that. Even if the others in the room thought that they had the decency not to act that way. "Listen here you Jack Frost-looking motherfucker of a pixie. If I'm living in a demonic frat house with you, you're going to treat me with some goddamn respect. Learn my name, it's Cass, rhymes with ass, which is what you're being. I will make it my personal mission to learn how to smite a demon if I have to. I don’t care if it kills me, make sure that demon isn’t you."

Cass punctuated the statement by jabbing Mammon's chest. She was fuming as she glared up at the demon, gaze boring into his blue and yellow eyes. He stepped back when she'd turned on him. His eyes widened in shock once again. The rest of the room had fallen silent. The anger vanished as quickly as it had washed over her. She jumped back, almost as if Mammon shocked her where she’d poked him.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know where that came from." She stumbled over some of the words, rushing to get them out.  

"Oh, I like her," Satan whispered and Cass saw Asmo nodding in agreement.

-- -- --

One year. Diavolo had asked her for one year. Humans, angels, demons. I imagine a universe where each accepts the other…as friends. She had glanced at Mammon at Diavolo’s words, his eyes catching hers for a second. One year to “polish her soul”, resist demons, and become friends with both them and angels. Cass stared at her reflection in the window of Mammon’s car. She could do this. Right?

Cass looked at Mammon, tearing her eyes away from her reflection, the reflection of someone she recognized but knew nothing about.  He hadn’t said anything to her since she’d yelled at him. Even when they’d left RAD and walked to his car, the most he’d done was make a noncommittal noise.

He was, however, mumbling to himself the whole way. Something about not being afraid of Lucifer and why he agreed to watch over her. She wasn’t sure she really cared why he agreed. Her microscopic chance of survival seemed to narrow every time she spoke. That knowledge didn’t seem to stop her from putting her foot in her mouth at every chance.

"Got it?" Mammon asked as he slammed the brakes at the red light, turning to glare at her.

She coughed, wrangling the seat belt away from her. "Sorry, I wasn't listening." He already hated her, might as well be honest.

"COME ON! Even if ya weren't, at least pretend."

“Right, not like I’ve had a lot thrown at me today or anything,” she mumbled. After a beat of silence, she took a deep breath and continued, “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, that was uncalled for.”

Cass kept her eyes trained on the road in front of them, missing the curious glance Mammon gave her. He hummed in thought. “Whatever. I’m a bit surprised you’ve got the guts to talk to me like that. I am a demon. You do get that, right?”

Cass didn’t answer. Maybe it was the fact she didn’t remember anything, but she hadn’t been afraid since she’d woken up. Confused, worried, anxious, but not afraid. If she had her memory, she may have broken down crying or screamed and tried to escape. But there was something normal, even familiar, about the Devildom. Something about the place made her feel fearless even.  

Mammon pulled into a garage before clamoring out of the car. Cass followed, albeit slowly. He went around to the front so she could see the entrance. If any house was haunted, it was this one. Lucifer must not have been joking when he said it was cursed. The house towered over them. If she stared in one place long enough, it almost looked like it was breathing. The lights gave off an eerie orange color, especially in the darkness of night.

“Does the house look better in the daylight?” She half-joked.

Mammon shook his head. “There ain’t no sun here.”

Cass stopped. There was the cherry on top of this fucking shitshow of a nightmare she’d awoken in. She didn’t mind the dark, but no sun? How did they expect a human to survive in a realm with no sunlight? She didn’t have to ask to know he was being serious. She sighed, walking in after Mammon.  

"This is the House of Lamentation," Mammon announced as the old door creaked closed behind them. "It’s the dorm specifically for student council members. Despite what you may hear from my brothers, I’m still at the top of the social pyramid. I am a student council member, which is why I live here with my brothers."

"But did you get the position because of power or nepotism?" Cass couldn't help but ask the question. Mammon looked like he was about to yell again, so she held up her hands in surrender. “I know, I know, you’re a demon. I should watch what I say.  

She stopped at the bulletin board by the foot of the stairs Mammon had started climbing. There were different flyers for events, part-time positions, reminders for school, and other things that looked normal, for a house in hell that is.

Tucked in one of the corners was a photo of seven demons in their uniforms. They were standing in front of what Cass assumed was a main hall at RAD. She recognized five of them from earlier. The remaining two must be the other brothers. There was something sad about the picture. It wasn’t the photo of seven people who liked each other, much less were bothers. One of the unknown demons slumped against Beel, eyes closed. Beel’s eyes seemed to bore through her, his hand on his stomach. She could practically hear it grumble.

The other unknown demon was standing off to the side, almost like he was cowering from attention. He had headphones on around his neck, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and eyes cast downward. Lucifer was standing in the middle, the photo catching him in the middle of rubbing his temples. His eyes were closed and jaw tense.

She could tell Mammon was yelling “Oi” at someone behind the photographer, hands tossed out in annoyance. Satan wore the same smile as earlier. The pretty smile that was all an act. Asmo was turned towards Mammon, yelling at him while still looking picture-perfect. There was an awkward space between each of them except Beel and the one leaning on him. Who were these demons and what was their story? Would they notice if she took down the photo? She didn’t like it.

“If there’s something you wanna ask me, you’d best do it now,” Mammon huffed. His eyes were on the picture when Cass looked up at him. He sounded annoyed but there were traces of melancholy in his eyes. Cass shook her head, knowing he wouldn’t tell her anything about their family anyways. "Here's some advice if you want to survive even a day here. If you think a demon’s about to attack you. Run." Mammon turned back around starting up the stairs. "Or die."

"Hey Mammon, I vote for you to die!" Cass heard someone yell.

Mammon stumbled back, bumping into her. The person who yelled rounded the corner, his hair a bold purple color. She recognized him as the one with headphones from the photos. Quite a shift from the nervous, demon hiding in the photo.

"Uhhh, hey Levi? Cass this here is Leviathan, but we call him Levi. He's the avatar of envy. Levi this is the new exchange student Cass. Let’s move on."

Levi peered at her with a look of disdain. No, apathy. He didn't care if she was a person or a piece of dust. Well, at least she was already on better terms with him than Mammon. It may be that Mammon was in between them that she didn’t feel it immediately, but after a few seconds, she felt the same dark aura from earlier now radiating from Levi.  

"Mammon, just give me my money and then go crawl in a hole and die."

"I'll pay ya back Levi! I need a little bit more time. And wanting me to die after paying you? That's harsh."

"A LITTLE MORE TIME?" The demon roared. "YOU’VE BEEN SAYING THAT FOR 200 YEARS."

"Fuck man, get a job," Cass murmured under her breath.

Mammon chose to ignore her comment, though she knew he heard it. "Fine, I’m scum. I get it!" He played it off as a joke, but there was something there that struck Cass the wrong way. She glanced up at Mammon, getting a little more insight into the demon, seeing through the cracks.

"No, you're a lowlife, pathetic, waste of space."

Levi said the words with such finality and coolness that even Cass felt the weight of it. They may be demons, but that seemed too far. Weren't they supposed to be brothers? Cass stepped under Mammon's outstretched arm. Suddenly, she felt the need to protect him. Even though she knew it was useless, at least she'd die making an effort.

"Hey, he may be lowlife, but isn't he your brother? Damn, have some class."

Levi looked her up and down, before looking over her shoulder at Mammon. A silent question on his face. "Oh hey, Levi, Cass loves those doll things you collect! She has a huge collection."

Levi's face lit up. "You collect figurines?!? I'm still looking for this rare one from Diamond Dust, do you have that one? Humans are so lucky. It’s not fair that you get all the good stuff and you don’t even live that long.”

Cass blinked at the sudden shift in the demon’s demeanor. "He's fucking with you.”

Levi glanced behind her. “That ass. Do you realize he sacrificed you? He’s a total scumbag, but you just let him do that. I mean, how stupid can humans-"

"Care you elaborate how Mammon leaving leads to you killing me?" Cass interrupted. "I may be a human but watch who you call stupid. At the very least you can get him in trouble with Mr. Almost Silver Fox."

"Almost silver fo-? Oh, Lucifer. I mean, I guess you're not entirely wrong." Levi paused. "Wait, you’re a human. That’ll work. I have an idea, come with me."

Levi grabbed Cass's arm tugging her through the house. There were pictures and paintings along the walls. Cass recognized the brothers, but couldn't tell many details at the speed Levi was moving. She was struggling not to trip. His grip would most definitely leave her with a bruise.

Levi looked around frantically before shoving Cass into his room. He looked around once more before slamming the door shut. The sound of the lock deafening in the silent room. Cass stared at him waiting for an explanation.

"I think we're good. I can't have people thinking I'm hanging out with a normie human in my room. You don't even look like an Otaku," Levi spit out.

"Worried people might gossip?" Cass said with a wink.

"Of...of...c-c-course n-not! The only person my heart has room for is Ruri-chan! Who would gossip? That it's, that’s insane."

Cass laughed, spinning around to take in the room. There was a desk with glowing boxes on it and several cords coming from them. Cass stared at it, assuming they were larger versions of the D.D.D. Lucifer had given her, but not sure. There were also bookcases in one corner, overflowing with books and something Cass didn't recognize but was colorful nonetheless. Her hands danced near them, not touching them. Something told her Levi wouldn't appreciate that.

But that was the least impressive thing. The ceiling and two of the walls were glass, holding water and sea life. When she turned back to the demon, he was watching her with a confused interest. Any apprehension she may have been feeling being locked alone in a room with a demon was gone. Her hand landed on his upper arm, squeezing gently.

"LEVI, YOU LIVE IN THE OCEAN!" Cass beamed. "Or a glass box in the ocean. Do you know of fucking cool that is?"

"A-aquarium," he stuttered, his face turning red.

"Aquarium," Cass murmured back. She'd have to find a dictionary later. Her hand fell from Levi's arm pointing at a particularly adorable orange fish who seemed to stay near him. "What's this little fellow's name?"

Levi coughed. "Henry."

Cass gave him a small wave. "Hi there, Henry. Aren't you precious?"

"I DIDN’T BRING YOU HERE TO TALK ABOUT HENRY!" Levi yelled. Cass's hand fell as she looked over her shoulder at Levi. She was getting whiplash from the sudden mood changes. "Do humans ever think? You're such a normie. You walked into my room with me, a demon, and touched me without asking. I could kill you. I don't care if you're alive or dead."

"But you won't," Cass mused, not bothering to clarify that he dragged her into the room. She put her hand on Levi's arm again, just to prove she could. "Because you need me."

"What, that's, no. I don't. You're, you're just a human. Why would I need you?"

Cass shrugged. "From what I can tell, you don't want to be around people, and you especially don't want them in your room. So, the way I see it, you need me. And considering you're willing to invite me, a human with no power, nothing to give you, into your room, tells me I'm your last resort. And if I’m your last resort, it'd be the worst strategy to kill me."

Levi's eyes widen. For a moment, admiration flashed in his eyes before he looked away. In truth, Cass had no idea why he'd asked her here. But something told her she needed to calm him down. Her best plan was to distract him as Mammon had done earlier.  

"Fine," Levi grumbled, blowing his hair out of his face. "Look, Mammon is a scumbag, as you've noticed. He might as well be the Lord of Fools.” Cass cocked her head to the side, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “From the Tale of the Seven Lords? Do you not know TSL? How clueless ARE you? How are you even human? Alright, sit down and pay attention,” Levi pushed her into the chair next to his large D.D.D.s. It rolled backward from the force. “I’m giving you a crash course.”

Levi started with facts about the fantasy series before covering the general plot. He became increasingly animated as he started describing the seven lords. She needed to get a copy of these books. Seven powerful brothers who seemed to be based on the ones she’d be living with, the books could be helpful.

Once Levi started talking about the third lord and Henry, she saw another crack in the family’s façade. It dawned on her. They were lonely. Lonely in a house of people. Now, she needed to learn why. What caused them to get to this point?

Levi gasped, shocking Cass. “I think I’ve done too much talking, my throat hurts. I didn’t even bring you here to talk about TSL. We came to talk about Mammon. He owes me money and I can't force him to pay me back. He's the second oldest and being the third oldest, he'd overpower me."

"What happened between you two? You seem to despise him, but he's still your brother, right?" Cass asked. This could be her chance to learn more about the rifts between the brothers.

"A long time ago, I was participating in this giveaway where they were giving away a Seraphina figurine as the prize. She's amazing and wonderful. She seems cold and aloof, but if you talk to her, you realize she's craving affection!"

Cass didn't answer, letting Levi rattle on about the character. She held back a smile as he started complaining about how Mammon treated the box. This is the kind of argument and frustration she expected from brothers. It held the same playful hatred she’d caught glimpse of in the Assembly Hall when Lucifer referred to his brothers as “this one”, the stifled laughs, the little jabs. Levi huffed as he dropped to sit on the edge of the bathtub. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he whispered something about Mammon being stupid, sleeping naked, and being too fast for him to hurt.

"I'm sorry," Cass interrupted, rolling forward and placing her hand on Levi's knee. "That's pretty shitty, especially since he knew it was important to you."

Levi looked at her, searching her eyes as if trying to decide if she was making fun of him. "Whatever, it doesn't concern you." He brushed her hand off, standing again. "What I need you to do is make a pact with Mammon. If you do, you can force him to pay me back! And he can't say no."

"A pact?"

"Yeah, haven't you watched any films? You trade your soul in exchange for his powers."

"Look, I don't mind helping, but my soul? I don’t want Mammon to have that."

"Well, it doesn't have to be your soul, you just have to give him something valuable."

"I don't even remember my last name, let alone if I have anything valuable. I can give it a try though."

Levi smiled, making eye contact for a moment before turning away. If I’m being honest, I don’t really care what you think. I have a plan. We need to find our bargaining chip. Something he’ll do anything to get back.”

-- -- --

Cass sighed, staring at the lights in the tree hanging over her bed. After Levi kicked her out of his room, she’d spent some time wandering the halls of the house until Lucifer came home. He’d shown her to her room before going to find Mammon. There was a commotion involving Mammon yelling and something breaking before silence fell over the house again.

She’d passed on the offer to join them for dinner, needing some time to think. Luckily, her room wasn’t too strange. At first it felt like walking into a garden, but she loved plants and couldn’t complain. There was also a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor that had a bed, a table, and her own bathroom. She could get over the few odd decoration choices like the skull and casket bookcases.

There were also special lights throughout the room that were enchanted to work like sunlight. She could set the times and strength, giving her some semblance of day. She noted they gave off more heat than the other lights in the house. In addition to being dark, the Devildom seemed to be colder than the human world.

After laying in bed trying to sleep for hours, she decided to start reading the TSL series. Levi had reluctantly let her borrow a copy, claiming it was an otaku’s duty or something. Opting to read in the plush, oversized furniture on the first floor, she draped the blanket around her shoulders and started down the stairs.

Halfway down, she froze. A figured stood in the middle of the room. Panic rushed over her. Lucifer had said they’d charmed the room so nobody could get in unless going through the door and even then it would be impossible if it were locked. Considering the walls were still standing, there was no reason someone should be here.

The figure was the same height as Asmo, but she knew it wasn’t him. Cass glanced at the door, debating if she could make it without them noticing. Her eyes went back to the figure and that’s when she realized something was off. They were almost translucent. Were there ghosts in the Devildom? Maybe the house was haunted and not just cursed.

Once her eyes adjusted more to the darkness, she could take more of the figure’s features in. Her white hair fell just past her shoulders, the tight curls bouncing with movement. The end of the curls faded into the same deep violet of Beel’s eyes. Her ears matched Levi’s, aquatic like. Cass could make out green eyes, the same shade as Satan’s. Three white heart tattoos stood out on her skin, the same tone as Mammon’s. At certain angles, Cass swore she saw white, feather wings. Cass was overwhelmed by how angelic she looked.

Her outfit only contributed to her ethereal beauty. The dark turquoise brasier was accented with gold and lace of a lighter turquoise. She wore legging like pants of the same color, long fabric of the light turquoise wrapped around her waist with gold accents. The makeshift skirt had a slit leaving one hip exposed and draped down like water. She wore what looked like a cloak over top, it fell off her shoulders, the large sleeves gathered above her wrists. It trailed behind her as she walked. Cass wasn’t sure what it was made from to give it the appearance of a cloud that appeared over a waterfall. To complete the look were golden bracelets and a golden head piece reminiscent of a Goddess’s crown.

“Hello?” Cass finally whispered, not able to hold it any longer. The figured didn’t seem to be a threat. If anything, they seemed lost. Lost and lonely.

The figure head snapped up staring at Cass. Their mouth fell open in shock. “Can you see me?” Their voice was soft, scared.

“Yes? Is that weird?”

“They can’t see me. I’ve tried to talk to them, but they can’t see me, no one can.” Cass’s heart broke at the sadness in the being’s voice. How long had they been here, alone? “I’m Lilith.”

“I’m Cass.” Silence fell around them. Cass walked the rest of the way down the stairs. Lilith’s breath was shaky, tears threating to fall. “Do you live here?”

“Kind of? I don’t, I don’t really know. I can’t leave, but I’m not alive.”

“Do you know the brothers? How long have you been here?”

“I did. I came here when I died to watch over them. I can’t really tell you more though.” Cass nodded, not understanding, but not wanting to chase her away. “Can you help me?”

“Leave?”

Lilith shook her head. “Save them.”

[unascend]

@therapardalis both want the last copy of a book in the library

You're going all that way for some book?

Jack's question still rang in his ears. What he should have said was that it wasn't some book. It was one book, in one library. The only known extant copy, completely undigitized, because who would digitize a book that no one had been able to fully translate and which seemed inconsequential enough that no one particularly cared? Except that he had one photograph of it that his grandfather had taken years ago, and now Daniel recognized that it was at the very least related to the language of the Ancients. It had then taken him a full year to find where the hell the thing was. And now he had. And he was going to go in person to get it, because he had to be sure to get the right one.

Instead, he'd just said "yep" and rolled his eyes because it should have been self evident that it wasn't just some book. And Jack wouldn't have bothered to listen to the full answer anyway. Still, Daniel would've felt better if he'd bored Jack with the details. It was the principal of the thing.

When he arrived at the library, however, he was told that the book was still on the shelf even though he'd requested a hold and informed them that it was to be taken as property of the US Military until further notice. No one's checked it out for years, the librarian said. And again, Daniel stopped himself from explaining. Instead, he muttered a thank you and went to shelf where the book should have been collecting dust.

Should have been. Wasn't, though.

His heart was beating hard as he searched all the adjacent shelves, then the shelf he'd been directed to again, then the adjacent shelves again. He was about to return to the front desk again to raise some hell, but-- Then he spotted it. Open on a table in the study section, with someone sitting over it.

Daniel narrowed his eyes, too relieved to see it hadn't disappeared entirely to think it through. He approached her. "Um, excuse me. I--I think you have the book I put on hold. They didn't, uh, pull it for me, but. I just got off a plane and. I really need--."

Then, his mind caught up to his mouth. Why did she have the book that was, by all appearances, full of nonsense symbols and diagrams according to his grandfather's scrawl on the back of the photograph or donated from the estate of a wealthy collector and said to have been found during an unknown excavation in the 1920s, although it is more likely a forgery due to the quality of the binding and the indecipherable code according to the library's website.

"Why did you pull the book?"