#kinda been feeling like….hmm how to describe it.

[redhotarsenic]

Many many irl things are happening at the moment that’s why I’ve been gone for so long terribly sorry for that 💀

[bosbas]

Chapter 2: I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.1k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, i still ship daphne and y/n tbh, daphne kinda going wild but i still love her your honor she's just a girl

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

May 27, 1812 - It was two weeks after Daphne had finally started being able to talk to her suitors, and you couldn’t help but feel your excitement bubbling when you saw her speaking with Phillip Norwood once again. He had little money, at least for Mayfair standards, and no title to speak of, but he made your best friend laugh. And that was all you really wanted from the man who would potentially be her husband. 

You were interrupted from over-analyzing Daphne’s body language toward her suitor by someone clearing their throat next to you. 

“Anthony!” you exclaimed as you turned, happy to see him. “I hadn't seen you tonight, my apologies.” 

Just as the eldest Bridgerton began to respond, you caught Daphne laughing what could only be described as a flirty giggle, while Mr Norwood placed a hand on her upper arm. Distracted, you squinted to see if your best friend had placed a hand on his arm, too. You couldn’t wait until tomorrow when you would hear all about this encounter. You had been hearing about Mr Norwood for a few days now, and it was endearing to see how taken Daphne was with him.

“Hmm?” you asked Anthony, having entirely missed what he had said. 

“I was just wondering whether you were going to… ask me to dance,” repeated Anthony, uncharacteristically hesitant.

You distractedly took in his words, tearing your eyes away from Daphne and seeing the man in front of you nervously rubbing his neck as he waited for your response. 

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering where you were. You were supposed to stop Daphne’s brother from obsessing over her and her suitor, not obsessing over them yourself!

“The past few balls you’ve asked me to dance; I had just come to expect it at this point,” continued Anthony, still seeming a bit off-kilter as he reminded you that dancing with him had become a quasi-routine. “I didn’t know whether I’d done something to upset you or if you simply didn’t feel like dancing tonight.”

Seeing Phillip start to kiss Daphne’s gloved hand out of the corner of your eye brought you back to your senses completely. 

“Not at all; I’d love to dance!” you blurted out, turning Anthony so his sister and her admirer were directly behind him.

You quickly grabbed Anthony’s hand and led him to the dance floor, tripping over yourself in an attempt to distract your best friend’s brother.

Almost instinctually, Anthony grabbed your waist to keep you from falling, an arm placed firmly around you as he held you close to him. When you finally felt solid ground again, you met his eyes. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, suddenly feeling extremely aware of where his hands were placed and just how close your chest was to his. “I’ve just been a tad distracted tonight,” you apologized, doing your best to ignore how close his mouth was to yours.

Once again, as had become habitual, the pair of you began to dance. In all honesty, it was a delightful endeavor, at least for you. It was quite unexplainable, really, but you and Anthony seemed to move as one, and you had never expected something as simple as a dance to feel so… right. 

“This is the first time you’ve asked me to dance, you know,” you teased Anthony as he spun you around. 

“Is it?” he responded, amused at your observation. “Would you like me to call on you tomorrow, too, or is asking you for a dance enough?” 

You knew he was only teasing, but you grew flustered nonetheless, tripping over your feet and almost falling to the ground once again. Even though Anthony was there to steady you with a hand on your hip and another wrapped around you, you ripped his hands away from you.

“No! That wasn’t– I mean, I didn’t–” you spluttered, an unexplained panic rising in you. 

“I was only joking, Y/N,” he said softly, eyes wide as he took in your extreme reaction to what was meant to be a light-hearted comment. He supposed you very well and truly weren’t interested in him. And though this was a fact he knew already, this did nothing to quell the slight pang of disappointment he felt as he looked at the beautiful woman in front of him.

As the music ended and he led you back to the crowd, Anthony muttered to himself, “Though there are only so many times we can dance without courting before it’s considered improper.” 

He shouldn’t have asked you to dance tonight, he scolded himself. Look at you, practically trembling at the mere idea of Anthony calling on you tomorrow. He should have just let it lie and not come to talk to you tonight. As was his nature, he would never forgive himself if your standing in the ton suffered because of a silly crush he could never act upon.

“Would it really be considered a scandal?” you inquired, feeling a tad self-conscious because you and Anthony had danced at every ball for the last two weeks. 

Mortified, he turned to face you properly. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he apologized. “But I promise you have nothing to worry about. It's only been a few dances, and seeing how close you are to our family it's hardly worthy of any gossip.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you nodded at Anthony, feeling much more calm. 

Trying to lighten the mood, you teased him. “I didn’t know you cared what people thought of you, seeing how you’re the biggest rake in all of England, and probably beyond, too."

He rolled his eyes bashfully, never until this moment having felt embarrassed about how easily he was able to charm women, unmarried or otherwise. 

“Well, I don’t care about what it means for me,” he said as if it were obvious. “I have no plans to marry anytime soon. But I’d like for you to be able to court anyone you want whenever you feel ready.”

“Oh,” you breathed, taken aback by how earnest Anthony was being. “I didn’t know you were so concerned about my prospects,” you said finally.

Quite nonchalantly, Anthony responded, “I vowed to my father to take care of you and my sisters, and I have no plans of betraying that promise.”

You felt your face growing hot. Perhaps it was the sincerity of the Bridgerton’s words, or perhaps it was how easily he showed his concern for you, but you had never felt quite so taken care of. 

Your mouth was wholly uncooperative, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, you reached for Anthony’s hand and squeezed it, hoping it was enough to communicate how much you appreciated him. 

His easy smile as he squeezed your hand back told you that he had heard your message with clarity. 

Turning to scan the ballroom, Anthony grumbled, “Now where on Earth is Daphne? If she’s with that Norwood fellow again I swear I’ll ban her from leaving the house again.”

“I'm sure I have no idea,” you said innocently, having just seen the pair hand in hand as they made their way to the dance floor.

“Good-for-nothing rake without even so much as a title,” he muttered, setting off in the direction of his mother in the hope that she would know where Daphne was.

You shook your head amusedly. It was alarmingly easy to slip into this routine with him. You had known the Bridgertons for most of your life, but it had never felt so… natural with any of the other boys in the family as it did with Anthony recently.

But you paid this no mind. At least Daphne was getting to find a love match, Phillip Norwood or otherwise. So what if you were having a bit of fun with your ploy? You got to dance at ton balls without having to court anyone and watch your best friend fall in love at the same time. There didn’t really seem to be any downsides to Daphne’s little plan. 

—

“Daphne, I can’t do that,” you insisted, your voice firm. "I don't even want to do that!"

“Please, Y/N. It’s the only way,” she begged.

Standing in front of you in your sunroom, on a perfectly normal Friday, she was asking you to start properly courting Anthony. As if it wasn't one of the most preposterous things you'd ever heard. As if your worth in society as a woman came almost entirely from whom you married, and she was asking you to make a mockery of it.

It had been two weeks of you breaking all social norms and asking Anthony to dance with you, and in the meantime, Daphne had managed to find a gentleman she actually liked. You should have known from the way she looked at Phillip, but it seemed that Mr Norwood wasn't just another suitor. He truly seemed to make your best friend happy, but you wondered if it was worth it for you if you had to court her brother. 

Setting your feelings aside, you remembered that hadn’t seen Daphne this happy since before she came out last year, and it was upsetting to know that it could all go away if you decided to discontinue your ruse.

“Daphne, I don’t know that this is such a good idea,” you said, not as resistant as earlier but certainly not on board. Yet. "What is your goal with this? I can't for the life of me see how this would be more effective than just continuing to dance with him.”

“I would never force you to do this, and I would never want you to feel like you have to do it,” Daphne started, prioritizing your friendship as usual. “You are correct. Getting the chance to meet Mr Norwood has been absolutely wonderful and I am forever grateful to you for it. However, one dance every other evening is simply not enough to build a courtship. I need to properly be able to actually speak with Phillip when he calls on me, and I can’t very well do that if Anthony is watching me like a hawk. I would be able to do all of the regular courtship activities my brother does not allow me to if he is busy courting someone himself.”

Admittedly, she had a point. You found yourself nodding, not terribly repulsed by the idea of having Anthony show up at your door the morning after a ball with a bouquet, despite what you'd told Daphne earlier. 

“But how exactly would this end?” you pressed. “Anthony and I can’t very well get married.”

Though you wanted nothing more than happiness and fulfillment for your best friend, courting the most well-known rake in all of Mayfair could have consequences for you, too. It was true, you weren’t particularly interested in marrying this season, but being romantically associated with the likes of Anthony Bridgerton was bound to start some gossip around Mayfair. So would ending said romantic association, which you knew had to happen eventually. As much as he was a rake, Anthony was one of the most desired bachelors in polite society, and ending a courtship with him might inadvertently harm your social standing. 

Squealing, Daphne grabbed your hands and led you to the chaise near the window. As you sat down, she started talking excitedly. 

“Well, it would only be for a few weeks. A month, at most. Or at least until it’s obvious enough that we’re getting married and my brother can’t do anything about it,” she assured you. “That will be enough time to have a proper courtship, and you can break things off with Anthony.”

You hum, deep in thought. “Won’t Anthony be upset?” you asked. Daphne knew him best, of course, but this seemed like the sort of thing that would tick off a man. That is, starting a courtship that was never bound to result in anything. 

“You know he has no interest in marrying anyway, so I doubt you ending the courtship would be of concern.”

“That’s a fair point,” you agreed reluctantly. “He did mention that it might be seen as improper that we dance together so often yet aren’t properly courting. And though I don’t want to marry this season, I would eventually like to find someone. So I suppose this is what makes the most sense.”

Daphne squealed again, reaching over to hug you. “Oh, you truly are the best friend anyone could ever ask for.”

You giggled at her excitement, relieved that you could help your best friend find a fairy-tale love. And besides, you wouldn’t mind having to spend more time with Anthony. 

—

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[gallusrostromegalus]

So I may have been browsing through your AEIWAM tag and came across your writing of Komamura saying it's too hot in summer when you have a fur coat you can't take off. By that logic he's gonna always be sitting beside Hitsugaya in Captain meetings if he can swing it, especially in the early days, cause that boy is like a mini air conditioner next to him. XD

Wolves are winter creatures. The double coat, the snowshoe paws, the proclivity for cuddlepiles- if Sajin could move somewhere that never got above 40F he'd be in heaven. Alas, he lives in a major city that hits triple digits in the summer, so he keeps close track of the little pieces of winter he can find.

The first person to realize his little game was Unohana. She knew about the wolfman thing- Yamamoto trusts her as much as Sasakibe, and persuaded Sajin that, should a medical emergency arise, it should not also be a medical surprise.

She is of course, the pinnacle of Medical Confidentiality.

...but his name came up during one of the Shinigami Women's Association meetings/boozing sessions, and a distinct schism appeared.

On one side was Soi Fon, Nanao, and Herself, who all found Komamura to be very polite, professional and reliable if somewhat reticent and at times, aloof.

"I swear I can't get more than three words out of him!" Nanao despairs.

"I like him. He knows how to Shut Up." Soi Fon agrees.

"He's a very private man." Unohana nods.

Across the table, Isane and Rukia are baffled.

"Captain Komamura? Ten feet tall, bucket head? That Komamura?" Rukia the so-called Ice Princess asks, gesturing to indicate their height disparity. "What the fuck are you talking about? He's SUPER friendly and will hang around to talk FOREVER."

"Yeah, every time I go to the 7th he always asks me to stay for lunch and wants to know how everyone in my family is doing and swap horror stories from the ER for tales of crazy people in the intake queue." Agrees Isane, wielder of the ice cloud Itegumo. "It's embarrassing, but one time I was more than two hours late getting back because we get to talking!"

Everyone stares at everyone else, baffled.

"Did- did I do something to piss him off?" Wonders Nanao.

"Huh. Maybe he just picked up on how much I hate small talk on the job?" Soi Fon shrugs.

Unohana is silent, thinking.

"GUESS WHO BROUGHT TEQUILA!!" Matsumoto Rangiku announces as she kicks in the door, holding four bottles of liquor, only three of which were still full.

"We need you to settle a debate!" Rukia demands at once.

"Ooh! I love passing judgement on things that don't effect me!" Rangiku coos, sitting down, her chest making an odd 'clunk' sound on the table "- there's also salt and limes!"

"It kinda effects you." Soi Fon waved her hand noncommittally. "How would you describe Captain Komamura?"

"Tall, Heavily Armored and Mysterious?" Rangiku shrugs, pulling the box of kosher salt out of her cleavage.

"...more like his personality." Isane clarified.

"Oh! Uhh... You know what? He's one of the few people that's ever complimented me on streamlining like 80% of the paperwork we have to do." Rangiku nodded, fishing the limes out as well. "Always has stuff done waaaay before I expected and I feel like a bit of a jerk for not replying immediately, but never complains if my stuff comes in late."

"Does he hang around and talk, or is he just really businesslike?" Nanao asks, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"Hmm..." Fowns Rangiku. "Kinda varies by the day- Sometimes he's all business, other times he'll stay and chat. I always assumed he wants to talk but sometimes he's got work, you know?"

There is much confused muttering as the limes are cut, when Unohana raises a finger.

"...How is he with Lieutenant Hitsugaya?" She asks.

"Oh, he ADORES Toshiro!" Rangiku nods enthusiastically, salting her shot glass. "He actually does the majority of Toshiro's Bankai training now because The Old Man handed it off to him so he could focus on teaching Zaraki Everything But Kendo- which, bless him for doing that, Shiro-kin could literally freeze my tits off!- and he really does a good job listening to Toshiro's concerns and confusions- he's a sensitive boy, you know? And Koma-kun is so gentle with him and to be honest I always eavesdrop on his advice because I could use it too. Delightful man all around." She nodded, and moved to down her drink.

"...Why?" She asked, pausing her drink and glaring suspiciously at Unohana.

Unohana nods with the clarity of enlightenment. "Nothing serious, but everything makes sense now." She smiles, then cracks into a small giggle. "It's rather charming, actually."

"Care to elaborate?" Soi Fon grumbles.

"Yeah that answered NOTHING." Rangiku glares.

"We noticed an interesting disparity in his behavior." Unohana explains, pushing her own glass towards Rangiku to fill. "For me, Captain Fon, and Lieutenant Ise, Komamura-Taicho is very polite, but sticks to the matter at hand and will not volunteer any further conversation. For Lieutenant Koetetsu, Miss Kuchiki and apparently Lieutenant Hitsugaya, he has all the time in the world and is quite the chatterbox."

"...Weird." Rangiku frowns, intrigued by the puzzle. "For me it's like, half and half?"

"Not quite, I think." Unohana smirks. "What do Isane, Rukia and young Toshiro all have in common?"

The Resounding Silence of Thinking Very Hard around the table was a bit of a disappointment, but they were about three bottles into the evening already.

"Can't be Height." Nanao hummed. "Rukia and Shiro-Kun are shorter than a stack of pancakes but Isane's got legs that are too long for the cover of Vouge."

"Isane and Toshiro are both silver-haired, but not me, and he doesn't seem to be particularly close to Ukitake-Taicho and I think I've actually seen him run out of a room to avoid Gin." Rukia puzzled.

"What? RUDE." Rangiku protested.

"They're all under a century old, right?" Rangiku pondered.

"No, I'm almost two hundred!" Isane sighed. "Oh wait- we all graduated early from the Academy!"

"Ehhhh, I graduated because I got adopted, I'm not a genius like you and Shiro-kun." Rukia waved. "Also, how would HE know that?"

"You're all Lieutenants!" Rangiku perked up.

"Not yet I'm not!" Rukia protested.

"Pfsh- you run half the division anyway. Jushiro should promote you to Co-lieutenant with Kaien already!" Rangiku waved.

"Its- it's complicated." Rukia mumbled. "Also, Nanao-chan is a Lieutenant and he doesn't like her!"

"Does it have to do with how freakishly huge he is?" Soi Fon asked.

"...Yes, actually." Unohana decided. Sajin might not have so much trouble thermoregulating if he was the size of a regular wolf. She reasoned privately.

"Also, He likes Nanao-chan just fine as far as I know. I think it's less about how much he enjoys your company- which I think he does, he's not one for putting on facades- and more about how much he enjoys your Proximity." She clarified, taking her shot. "Oh, this is good, what is it?"

"Cabrito Blanco." Rangiku read off. "Huh. The Cabrito on the label sure ain't Blanco." She frowned at the brown goat.

"None of us have transferred out of the Division we started in, but again, how would he know? and that hasn't got anything to do with Proximity..." Isane frowned.

Rukia slammed her glass down. "WOW that's got a kick. Maybe uhhhh... None of us wear perfume, but Gin doesn't either. I hope. I don't want to get close enough to find out."

"He's really not that bad-" Rangiku sulked. "OH, 'Blanco' refers to the tequila and this is that goat's white tequila!" She realized.

"Sometimes I wish I could take a weekend vacation in your brain. Its machinations fascinate me." Soi Fon teased. "Hmmm... Lotta close but no Cigar, you're all young-ish, Isane and Toshiro have living relatives and Rukia has a large adopted family, but again, not exclusive or Proximal. You're also all S-rank duelists with- OH!"

"Shh, I'm enjoying the flailing." Retsu grinned.

"Pfff- okay, that is kinda cute and I don't blame him." Soi Fon giggled. "Sometimes I'm real glad my seat is right next to The Old Man for the same reason. Or opposite reason, I guess."

"Bwah?" Rangiku frowned.

"I do the same thing with You, Momo and The Old Man that He's doing with them." Soi Fon grinned. Rangiku frowned, peculiar machinations grinding slowly through the tequila, before she suddenly cackled, head thrown back so hard Unohana had to reach out and grab her by the scarf to keep her from tipping her chair over.

"OH NOOOOOOOO!!" She wailed, shoulders shaking. "Oh- that's cute but Toshiro can NEVER find out he'll be such a brat about it!"

"Sorry I'm late, I had to finish the latest report on the Rice Farm Subsidy Fraud Investigation!" Momo panted, jogging in late. "-What can't Toshiro find out about?"

"There is SOMETHING that You, ran-chan and Yamamoto-sama share, and it's the same thing but backwards as what Me, Hitsugaya, and Isane have in common that Komamura-taicho really likes it or something, and THEY know but won't TELL US and its MAKING ME CRAZY!" Rukia wailed.

Momo stood, expression blank for a few moments. "Wait. You didn't know?"

"KNOW WHAT?" Rukia wailed.

"That Komamura hangs around with people with Ic-Mmpf!" Momo started to reveal but was abruptly tackled and the rest of the sentence smothered in Rangiku's Cleavage.

"With WHAT?" Nanao demanded. "What do they have that I don't?"

"-Hang on." Isane frowned, the slowly turned to her captain, squinting. "Is. Is this a... Physics Issue?"

"That's one way to phrase it." Unohana smiled as Momo flailed for air.

"Oh my Gooooood..." Isane groaned. "Why doesn't he just ASK? I'd happily go over and give Itegumo some practice, I hate summertime too!"

"Huh?" Rukia glared, as Momo finally fought her way free and gasped for air.

"Itegumo? That's your- ohhhhhhh." Nanao realized. "That's. Okay yeah that's actually really cute." She giggled. "Poor guy. The armor can't help with that, can it?"

"That's what I keep telling him but it's-" Unohana waved her hands and grimaced with frustration. "-He wears the armor because he's facing the *stupidest* form of Political Persecution I've ever heard of." she sighed.

"Really?" Asked Momo. "Captain Tousen said Komamura told him it's because he's got a major disfigurement or something?"

Unohana sighed and rolled her eyes. "Komamura is FINE, he's just- It's complicated and medically private but trust me, the helmet is a reasonable precaution against an absurd problem."

"Oh." Momo winced. "Well, I'm glad he's medically alright at least!" "I'm so fucking confused." Rukia whimpered, deflating over the table in despair. "Is. Is hanging out with me making him less sick or something??"

"...Yes!" Unohana smiled. "Or at least, makes his condition more physically comfortable."

Rukia turned that over a few times. "...Talking with him is helping?"

"Yes, but only if you're in the same room with him. Doesn't work over the phone." Unohana nodded.

"Okay." Rukia said, reaching for the nearest bottle. "Lets talk about something else."

---

Years Later, after the Bedlam of her attempted execution and Subsequent Rescue, Rukia finally saw Komamura's face.

It was a bit awkward, walking into the hospital room in search of her brother to find a nine-and-a-half foot tall wolfman wearing the Seventh Division Captain's Haori visiting Momo. It took her a moment to realize who he was, and another as some neurons connected and she squawked indignantly, pointing at him.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Kuchiki, but-" He sighed, ears flattening back against his head with Chargin.

"AIR CONDITIONING?!?!" She bellowed.

Komamura scrunched back, chagrined. For a massive apex predator, he did an excellent Kicked Puppy face.

"Rukia!" Momo protested faintly from her hospital bed. "Keep your voice down, I don't want Toshiro to find out!"

"Find out what?" Hitsugaya grunted, stepping out from behind Rukia.

"Ah, Well-" Komamura started to explain.

Rukia rounded on Hitsugaya, pointing behind her at the captain. "THIS JACKASS HAS BEEN EXTRA NICE TO YOU, ME AND ISANE BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE ICE-TYPE ZANPAKUTO AND CHILL THE AIR AROUND US!"

"...Summer is very uncomfortable when you have a fur coat you can't take off." Komamura winced.

"Uh, duh?" Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, strolling into the room. "I didn't know you were chilling Koetetsu and Kuchiki here as well, but I kinda figured you enjoyed the cold when you stayed at my Bankai training like, five times longer than Gramps ever did."

"My apologies for the deception." Komamura bowed his head.

"It's no big deal." Hitsugaya shrugged, putting a hand up to indicate he wanted help up onto the hospital bed, and Komamura obliged.

"See? I use you being tall too." he smirked.

Komamura sighed fondly as the boy sat down between him and Momo. "Momo makes me chill all her juice too, but she never seems to warm up my tea." he handed her a juice box from the vending machine down the hall, covered in condensation.

"It would explode." Momo grumbled.

"Skill Issue." He shrugged and she affectionately swatted him on the leg. "Anyway, don't dogs cool off through their paws?"

"I'm from a wolf clan, but yes." Komamura cocked his head with curiosity, then alarm when Toshiro casually grabbed his forearm and started tugging his Gauntlets off.

"I don't mind being a human ice pack, especially not when it's nintey-eight freakin' degrees out, but be efficient about it, yeah?" Toshiro grumbled, tossing the gauntlet aside and plopping Komamura's pawlike hand on top of his head.

"...Thank you." Komamura smiled gently, and ruffled his hair a bit.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Hitsugaya shrugged, playing the tough guy even as his ears turned red. "At least you're polite about it! Freakin' Zaraki literally just grabbed me- like, put his whole arm through the office window! and threw me over his shoulders once. Jerk."

"TOSHIRO!" Momo yelped, hand on her face. "You almost made juice come out of my nose!" She half-giggled while Rukia snort-laughed at the mental image.

"Hey Kuchiki!" Hitsugaya growled. "He's got two paws!"

"You can't boss me around! You don't outrank me anymore!" She grinned.

"I have seniority." he teased, and the bed started to shake as Komamura tried not to laugh.

"You really don't need to-" Komamura tried to diffuse the argument. His voice was rock-steady but the wide grin betrayed him.

"You gotta follow my orders though!" Ukitake said cheerfully, appearing in the door. "Hi Lieutenant Hinamori!"

"C-captain!" Rukia yelped, spinning around to Salute. "What are your orders, Sir?

"Shh, nothing's happening. But I did hear you squawking from two floors down, so what's happening?" Ukitake smiled down at her.

"Captain Komamura has APPARENTLY been hanging around me and the other Shinigami with Ice Zanpakuto and using us as Air Conditioners!" Rukia glared up at her commanding officer.

"...Rukia," Ukitake patted her head and smiled gently. "Do you remember where Lieutenant Kaien's desk was?"

"Second door on the left, right next to your office, Sir!" She nodded.

"Right! And where's your desk?" Ukitake asked, leaning in closer to her.

Rukia blinked, confused. "...It's immediately adjacent to your desk in your offi- GOD DAMMIT! NOT YOU TOO?"

"Yep!" Ukitake cheerfully patted her head and then palmed it to turn her around to face Komamura. "Hop to it!"

"Technically, I got the Idea from him, when I saw how he'd rearranged the furniture..." Komamura whispered as he helped her up onto the bed as well and Rukia groaned in defeat, settling next to Komamura where she could sulk at her captain from over the wolfman's broad shoulders.

"Oh, stop pouting!" Ukitake teased, sitting down on the chair beside Momo's bed and leaning back. "It'll be winter soon enough. Actually, Your friend Mr. Yasutora told me about a fascinating wintertime holiday in the Living World-"

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, slow burn!

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii part iii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

next part

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)

[dr-spectre]

So.... This game is 2 years old now huh?

Honestly... I don't think i have a TON to say about this game. It's just a great ass fucking video game that has given me a lot of fun and great memories!

This game came out during my final year of school, which is kinda funny considering that Splatoon 3 acts like a "finale" to a trilogy. It's interesting how those kinds of things work out eh? Splatoon 2 came out at the start of my secondary education, and Splatoon 3 came out at the tail end of my final year.

I remember thinking before the game came out, "why do we need a Splatoon 3? This is pointless, it's just more Splatoon 2." And then my mind was quickly changed once i got to play the Splatfest test fire and the actual game itself.....

I completed ROTM in such a short amount of time and i documented my reactions to my friends. Although i was spoiled in that Deep Cut had boss fights and Mr. Grizz was the final boss, ROTM still gave me a giant smile to my face all the way through. It was so fun, so charming and just a really good single player experience.

One of the things that i LOVE about Splatoon 3 is the vibe. I just love the location of Splatsville, i love the aesthetics, the lighting, the model improvements from Splatoon 2, the music, it's my favourite art style/aesthetic out of any of the Splatoon games by far. It just feels so polished, i don't know how to exactly describe it.

Also the fact that this game won best multiplayer game of 2022 over CALL OF DUTY! OVERWATCH 2 AND MULTIVERSUS MAKES ME SO GIDDY AND HAPPY!

PEOPLE GOT MAD ABOUT THIS AND THAT MAKES ME WANNA EVIL LAUGH! All of those fucking depressed and sad Call of Duty players who whine and complain about how "wahh modern gaming sucks!! There's no good games anymore wahhh!! It's all microtransactions wahhh!!" BITCH! SPLATOON 3 IS LITERALLY THE GAME YOU'VE BEEN ASKING FOR!! Yet you won't play it because it's on Nintendo huh? Yeah... You're a fucking PUSSY!! YOU'RE WEAK!! You're SCARED to be seen as less of a manly man!! You only wanna play games with oily dirty buff men.... Yet you call others who play games like Splatoon gay? Hmm..... Sounds like you're a wittle insecureeeeee!!!!

Have fun rotting in microtransaction hell you LOSERS!! GAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyways.... uh.... sorry....

I also fucking love Deep Cut too. I thought i wasn't gonna like these guys and i remember thinking when i first saw them "oh... okayyyy..."

But now? I love these bastards.

I love their dynamic and how they are bandits but they actually wanna help the people back in Splatsville. That is such a cool and unique take to have for Idol characters. The Squid Sisters are very cutesy and so are Off the Hook, but Deep Cut aren't. They are loud, messy, chaotic, in your face, rude, etc. They are about contrast and the character designers did a phenomenal job at conveying that theme via their backgrounds and looks.

Another thing that i love about Splatoon 3 is that it also acts as a celebration of things that have come before, Inkopolis Plaza and Square return as hubs, old colour combos from previous games act as loading screens, most of the music returns in the jukebox, it rewards long time fans for sticking around and for a long running franchise IT'S SUPER IMPORTANT to have that stuff!!!

Seeing the improvements in the model quality from Splatoon 1 to 3 genuinely makes me kinda emotional, it shows how far we've come in just a little under 10 years...

It really homes in on the point that... These characters, have grown up with us.... The Squid Sisters are about to reach their mid 20s, Pearl is nearly 30 fucking years old!!!

And the last thing i wanna bring up before i talk about the Grand Fest...

...Is Side Order.

This fucking DLC... My god... Being able to experience it by myself and just enjoy the stuff i was seeing, being able to SCREAM AND CRY AS MUCH I WANT WAS SO IMPORTANT TO ME DUDE!

When i got to the 10th floor in the tutorial and i saw Marina Agitando staring me down.... I did the loudest gasp a human could possibly do and my jaw was hung to the floor for a solid MINUTE!

Marina's first fucking dev diary made me cry and scream, THAT IS NOT A JOKE!!!! THESE CHARACTERS ARE THAT IMPORTANT TO ME!

And the final boss.... Made me cry, it broke me down, i was singing along to Ebb and Flow as best as i could, it felt like i was brought back to 2018, being in my room, listening to that song on repeat... I feel like a kid again....

I love this song... i love it so much... Like it's not the most hype finale song ever, but, the emotion behind it, the build up from Splatoon 2... The power this song has in it's meaning... It's some good shit man...

So yeah! I love Splatoon 3!!! It's my favourite game out of the series and anyone who is gonna jump into this game now is gonna have a LOT to chew on.

And... It's both sweet and sad that we're at the end. This is it... The moment we've been waiting for. The final Splatfest to end them all. The event 9 years in the making.

The Grand Festival...

I am extremely excited and so FUCKING NERVOUS for this Splatfest!!!! I know i am going to cry and be so overwhelmed with joy. Seeing the Squid Sisters and Off the Hook perform their old songs again after all of these years is gonna make me sob so loudly it's not even funny.

These characters genuinely mean the world to me and it's gonna be so fucking hard for me to watch their final major appearance and say goodbye. Cause after this, we don't know what's gonna happen. I know they will come back, they have to but... In what capacity? That's what I'm scared about...

So yeah, let's savior this moment when it eventually arrives, take all the time you need to be engulfed in the Grand Fest.

Thank you Splatoon 3, you have given me so much.... It's not time to say goodbye just yet but, i wanna watch you as you walk into the sunset with your head held high....

[bittencandy]

ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔣

Summary: It's such a dumb thing to have a crush on Mammon, your awful boss and the bane of your existence. You just wanted a few days off from your job to get your head on straight again, but of course he'd have an issue with that.

What you weren't expecting was what happened next.

Warnings: 18+, mammon calls reader a 'bitch'. Toxic dynamic. Degradation. Reader has breasts and vagina but no fem pronouns used, described as wearing skirts. Oral (let's be honest, mammon is not a giver but let's indulge in the fantasy), overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

Notes: 11.2K words. Not proofread. Reader is down bad, Hellborn!reader. Mammon being an insufferable pervert.

It's astonishing, even to you, how you've managed to developed feelings for someone who might be the most obnoxious demon in Hell - a tall order to fulfill, but he does so with a concerning ease.

His arrogance is on steroids, he's lazy, selfish, and has the manners of a pig. And despite crafting his image and brand around an aesthetic that implies comedy, he has the wit and sense of humor of a stunted schoolboy.

He is royalty. Maybe you could blame his ego entirely on his status, but somehow that might be giving him too much credit. You're sure that if he lost everything in a snap, overthrown and reduced to the lowly rank of the very demons that he despises, that he'd still cling onto his pride and overconfidence. You couldn't pry it from his dead hands.

Worse than all of that though, is that he's also your boss. An overbearing, exhausting, respectless boss. He oversteps personal boundaries, pushes you past your limits, and treats you like a tool to be used rather than a living being.

At his beck and call, that's what you are. He isn't mindful of your personal time or if you're off the clock. Like this very morning when he had woken you up four hours before your alarm could do the job.

You had barely registered that you were even conscious as your hand blindly searched your bedside table for your phone. Functioning entirely off of muscle memory.

The sound of his ringtone had cut through the peaceful atmosphere with all the subtly of a gunshot. You tried to blink past the sting of sleep and the shock of the light pouring from the screen as you accepted the call with the swipe of your thumb. You hardly had time to lift the device to your ear before the rough pitch of his voice - which was way too cheery for 3 a.m. - spilt out from the speaker in an unbroken stream.

"Heyyo, how's my little assistant doing? Good, good. Listen, I've really been cravin' some Mexican - you know the place, right? Of course, you do! I don't pay you the big bucks for nothin'! So, I was thinking that you could go and get me some. Probably a coupla burritos, maybe - or . . . hmm . . . Ya know what, make sure to get the party box. And make sure they skim out on the hot sauce this time, yeah?"

The line had hung up with a click, leaving you to sit alone in silence that suddenly felt too quiet instead of peaceful. He hadn't let you get a single word in. The option to try and reject his order was cut off with an abrupt kind of casualness.

You didn't want to move from the warmth of your bed. You didn't want to get dressed and figure out the exact restaurant that he wanted, because it probably wasn't even open this late. And despite his assumptions, you didn't know just which one he was referring to with his vague instructions.

Your mouth was dry, your eyes were threatening to slip shut again, and the sun hadn't even begun to dawn in the horizon, but the even bigger punch to the gut was when a notification dropped down from the top of your phone's screen.

Ball and Chain

wood u do me a solid n pey for it :)

Its kinda expinsive n i don think i hve the money rn thx

All in all: a total piece of shit.

And yet, like an absolute push over you've managed to develop some weird sort of attraction to him. It's Stockholm Syndrome - forced proximity or something. At least that's the excuse you make for yourself. How else could you possibly explain it?

You've been told that you have bad taste in men before. You've heard it from your parents. Your friends. Even coworkers have voiced their confusion in your past flings and boyfriends.

You've dated your fair share of red flags. "Bad boys" if you want to be cliche. One was emotionally unavailable, one was a cheater, and the other an arsonist with a penchant for outbursts that often resulted in murderous rampages. But somehow Mammon makes them all seem normal. A true talent.

So you can't manage to figure out why the guy that makes you want to bash your head into a wall also makes something hideously saccharine and soft pulse in your chest each time you see him. Something that you've horrendously recognized as affection.

You can't track when his voice shifted from nails on a chalkboard to charming and pleasant. It's gravely, coarse, typically held in a jeering lilt. You've seen some flinch at the sound of it, the loud way that he often projects it causing many to roll their eyes or scoff, and yet, like a lab rat that's been trained, you find yourself hoping to hear it again.

Maybe it's his power. The control he wields as a Sin. The ability he has to kill most demons with the flick of his hand.

You've been at his side for years. You know all of his quirks. How he likes his frappuccino's with so much caramel that it's practically seventy-five percent of the drink. He has the windows on his limo tinted so that he doesn't have to see the poor; turning on one of those sensory videos is the only way to successfully get him to focus, and he can't really handle eating anything spicy. He'll practically bite your head off and accuse you of trying to kill him if any kind of hot ingredient makes it into his lunch, though he'll refuse to stop trying to eat it. Chewing and swallowing while he moans and groans past the pain.

He's a terrible person. A PR nightmare. A horrible boss. And somehow, he's got you wrapped around his finger.

It's more than a little pathetic. Any self-respecting demon would have left by now. Fizz has - and if anyone else could possibly have a spec of understanding on your situation, it would definitely be him. But he's left. Finally severed his ties with Mammon and saved himself before the Sin could properly chew him up and spit him out.

You do respect him in that aspect. A part of you lives through him, latching onto his act of defiance, his reclaiming of independence and imagines that you're the one who finally told Mammon to go fuck himself.

But you don't think that you could truly move on from him. That you could let go. Truthfully, you don't think that you want to.

You've spent too many years with him to leave now. At some point, somehow, you've grown fond of him. All of the hatred and irritation boiling and simmering down into a soft devotion.

You like him. You actually like him. It feels like a sort of betrayal to yourself, but the sting of it grows duller and duller with each passing day until you're sure that it will soon vanish entirely. Like a faded memory.

It makes it seem normal then that you've managed to grow protective of him. Some might say the word "possessive" is better suited, but it seems like an exaggeration to you.

There are many facets to your tasks as the King of Greed's personal assistant. One of them being his bodyguard - not that he technically needs it. He holds powers that most demons could only dream of wielding, but it doesn't keep you from fulfilling your task and sheltering him from the crazed fans that often attempt to swarm him.

You've delt with all of the demons parading themselves in front of him. Desperately throwing their bodies in his path to try and get his attention, with their tits and asses on display like the perfect depictions of desperation.

So, by all accounts, it shouldn't have struck a nerve in you to see him talking to her.

You weren't allowed into the court room. Only high-ranking demons are permitted during hearings of this caliber. Namely the Goetia Family and the Sins.

You were left alone in the lobby, sitting on some gaudy, velvet cushioned waiting chair while you waited. The room is always uncomfortably quiet. Almost hollow in a way, with its vaulted ceilings and spaced-out walls giving it an eerie resemblance to catacomb.

The almost rhythmic tapping of the receptionist's fingers sweeping along her computer's keys echoed from the stone and marble floors. It was annoying. Like a persistent bug circling outside of your ear.

But the irritating noise of the keyboard clicking muted down into a distant hum as all of your focus narrowed down onto the phone you held in your palm. You were tuned in to a live feed of the trial to make sure that he wouldn't make a complete ass of himself. Though the likelihood of that was dim, you still had hope. You were holding out that the fidget toys that you had given him beforehand would occupy him enough to keep his usual antics down to a minimum. But you weren't going to hold your breath, either.

It was a quick glimpse of it, the view on the both of them out of focus while they sat far off in the background. The focal point of the live video trained on some imp, kneeling and bound in chains as he stared forward, eyes wide and chaotic with fear and fury.

You couldn't see what had captured his attention. The scope of the camera fixed entirely on him but based on his expression you could gather that it was more than likely Satan. His judge and possible executioner.

Hearings like this surprisingly aren't extremely common in Hell. It isn't every day that all of the Sins - excluding Lucifer, of course - are brought together to deliver unholy judgement on a demon. All of the Rings were probably glued to their phones and TV screens to watch the trial, frothing at the mouth with the possibility of watching blood spill.

But you couldn't be bothered to pay that any mind. The imp became long forgotten; the obnoxious voice of the pale, avian Goetia strutting about the dim room and the deep timbre of Satan dulled into a muted hush as your focus narrowed down onto a single, fleeting interaction.

The camera barely picked up the audio. The sound of Mammon's voice coming out muffled despite the hearing taking place in a large, cavernous room. The grin on his face was a joyful one, the flash of his serrated teeth making the sinister edge of it even more sadistic in his obvious gloating.

It felt like ice was in your veins, streaking up your throat to choke you as he shuffled over from his end of the gallery, dragging his chair with him to plop himself at her side. Smiling wide, happy and practically vibrating in place before his expression shifted into something bordering on sleazy.

You couldn't help the way your talons sunk into the arm rest of your seat, claws sinking into the padding with dull pops! as you watched his gloved hand slip onto the face of the counter to walk his fingers over the worn wood as he spoke.

You didn't miss the soft smile her left head passed him, long lashes batting at him before she casted her other half a questioning look. As though she was gauging her other side's reaction to whatever he might have said to her. Like she was asking her other part permission.

Permission to do what?

That's the question that twisted in your stomach and coiled like something molten and nasty.

He was practically leering. Eyebrows raised while he grinned at Leviathan dumbly around some dick shaped popsicle. Never have you ever wanted to slap him so strongly before. Not in all of your years of working under him has he made you feel so angry but seeing them together made your blood a venom in your veins.

It was a brief little interaction, and in a split second it managed to dig under your skin like a splinter.

You aren't sure why their relationship cuts at something deep. The bonds that the Sins have with each other has been considered almost familial. Having been casted from Heaven, it's brought them close despite their all of their differences. It's a relationship that you know you don't have with him. You're just the grunt meant to pick up his morning coffee and schedule the meetings that he probably won't bother to show up for.

Why would he ever look at you? You're just another person who works for him. Someone below his rank.

You know it's stupid. Your little crush. And yet, you can't find it within yourself to try and tear it down, to pick it apart piece by piece until it crumbles and disappears. You aren't dignified for that apparently, so instead, you wallow.

It's been close to a week since the hearing, and you still haven't managed to snap yourself out of the headspace that it had all but shoved you into.

There's been a cloud over you ever since. Nasty and suffocating. You've tried ignoring it. Moving past it and simply focusing on your work like you always do, but it's stubborn. Sinking in deep and latching on like some sort of parasite.

Seeing Mammon everyday doesn't help. It's only invigorating the burning ache of jealousy that threatens to cripple your lungs and leave you choking each time you have to look at him.

It's a slap to the face each time. A not so gentle reminder of the way he had sought out her attention. It's rare to see him deliberately seek out someone. Sure he has his fans. It's no secret that he loves being in the spotlight, preening under the approval of thousands, eating it up light he's starved and it's the only thing that might save him.

But for him to invite himself into someone's space without the motive of something underhanded, which seems like a defiance against some sort of law in nature, is something that you never imagined seeing. It makes you sick your stomach that it wasn't for you.

You need a break. A moment to properly catch your breath and recollect yourself. To get a grip so that you don't slip and let your emotions get the best of you. The last thing you want to do is have a break down during work, possibly in public, and in front of Mammon no less.

It's why you're standing in the middle of his office, in front of his desk. Though calling it an office is being a bit generous, considering that he spends all of his time in it sitting on his ass, watching trash television from the flatscreen that he had posted on the wall across from his desk, ignoring the important phone calls and meetings and business updates that he should be approving.

Much like he's doing right at this moment. There are piles of paperwork and files that are stacked into columns on the face of his desk. Forgotten in favor of the food that he's shoveling down his mouth, cheeks bulging as he sits with his attention transfixed on the screen.

The urge to pick up his slack and sort through the documents is kneejerk, and you have to forcefully remind yourself that you're not here to do his job.

"Mammon, sir," you call.

He doesn't so much as flinch at the sound of your voice. He definitely didn't hear you. His vision hasn't strayed from the cheesy reality show playing. There's a glazed over look in his eyes that has irritation prickling along your skin.

"Mammon." You try again, but he's still miles away. Or his ignoring you. That's definitely a possibility. You repeat his name two more times. The control in your tone audibly slipping, turning thin and clipped. The irritation, the stress of your job, the jealousy still lurking underneath it all has your restrain fracturing.

You hardly register your body leaning over, one of your palms striking down on the desk with a pronounced crack that reverberates up your arm in a heavy ache. You're too distracted to fully notice the flash of pain, too caught up in your impatience.

Finally, he acknowledges you. His eyes shift from the TV and move onto you. But the glance that he gives is quick and lazy.

"What are you doin' here?" he asks, gracelessly cramming in another grab of chips past his teeth.

You have to suck in a deep breath to keep your temper in check. A slow inhale and the simmering heat building in your body dies down into a faint thrum. You clear your throat, pulling back from the desk to straighten your posture and you make a deliberate decision to ignore the bit of ketchup that's transferred onto your palm from his desk.

"I wanted to request some time off, sir," you answer. The words are like ash on your tongue, but you swallow the guilt down. You're allowed to make time for yourself. You're allowed to ask for this. "Not for long. Just a day or two to relax and get a few things in order. I've ran it by Juno already, and they've agreed to cover the days I'd be gone. It's a short amount of time and they have enough experience to be capable-"

"No."

You blink at the response. There's a finality to it despite the relaxed way it was delivered. You're not exactly surprised by his refusal, mostly disappointed. Still, it doesn't keep your annoyance and confusion from showing on your face.

"Can I ask why?"

He sighs like you're the problem. Rolling his eyes dramatically before speaking around his chewing. "I'm not payin' for your leave."

Cheap bastard.

"I don't need you to."

"It's still no."

"Why not?" You can't hide your exasperation now, your arms flaring out from your sides.

He doesn't answer, opting to silently drop the near empty bag of chips, and for a moment you fear that you've lost him again. The sound of his chewing is horrendous this close, and despite having worked for him for three years, it's a habit of his that you haven't entirely moved past. Even worse is that you somehow manage to find him attractive, like some kind of curse.

"Cause I need you here-" one of his lower hands raises to point a finger at you, almost performative like he's in a commercial- " taking care of business and keepin' this fucking machine runnin.' "

"That's what Juno is for." You can't help how slowly you enunciate the sentence, slipping it from your tongue carefully like he's slow.

He doesn't appear to be insulted. When he speaks your name, it's laced with an affection that you wish was real. But it's too sweat, too gentle to be authentic, and the truth of that is like a knife in the chest.

"You know no one else does it like you do. You're the only one that can almost keep up with me." His face is pinched in a sincerity that logic tells you is fake, but that foolish romantic in you delights in the sight of it. "You're the glue that keeps this place together. You handle all the borin', useless bullshit while I entertain the masses. It's what makes us work."

Us.

It's so tempting. So close to what you want, but it's not real. You have to force yourself to keep your head on straight and ignore the fluttering in your chest.

He sits up from his chair and rounds his desk to approach you; the bells on his fool's cap chime and jingle, growing louder in his approach. He's still wearing that patient, understanding expression. The sharp edges of his grin have softened into something gentle, and it's so easy to pretend that it's authentic.

It takes you by surprise when he doesn't stop, raising up a pair of hands to cradle your face in his palms. It's a manipulation tactic. You know it is. You've seen him do it to Fizzarolli in the past. Using embraces and tender touches to lull him into a false sense of security, and it pisses you off that he's doing it now. It pisses you off more that you're actually lured by it.

His hands are cool. You can feel it through the rich leather of his gloves; buttery and smooth, chilled by the natural cold of his skin. But it's soothing in a way that it shouldn't be.

"You've never asked for time off in all these years. Are you really gonna leave me now?" He frowns. He's pouting. "You know the rest of 'em are bloody useless. Couldn't find their asses with a fuckin' map. You can't leave me with them, it'll be a disaster."

You want to tell him that he's being dramatic. That it's only two days, but the words die out in your throat. His eyes have gone wide. Big and pitiful like a puppy that's been kicked. It's the image of dramatic. An exaggerated display of hurt and worry.

A stubborn streak of guilt shoots through you despite your basic reasoning. The voice of common sense flickering out for one moment before you're able to reign it back into place.

He's just manipulating you. He's too lazy to deal with his business himself and as good as Juno might be as a temporary stand-in, you doubt that they'll be able to balance all of his responsibilities and yours - even if it is for two days.

All of the assistants before you had either been fired or died. He's not an easy individual to work for. He's exhausting, particular, and petulant, but you have to trust that Juno will be able to handle it. For your own sanity, they have to.

"C'mon, sweet thing. Tell me what's wrong in that little brain of yours." His voice dips from the high tone that it's usually held in, lowering into something smooth and husky.

You don't know if you've ever heard it sound like this before, and it's like you've been doused in something liquid and simmering. A shiver trickles down your spine and settles in your toes.

He did that on purpose. He had to.

His eyes seem like they're burning. The bright chartreuse boring into you, cutting past your defenses and layers and rummaging around to strip you bare.

You have to stop this. You have to get back in control before this tail spins into something that you can't handle.

"It's just two days," you repeat, choking the words out like they're made of dust.

His fingers flex subtly. The points of his claws hidden by the leather daring to dig at your cheeks. His expression hardens, eyes narrowing. But it's the thrum that's tainted the atmosphere that truly lets you know that you're treading into dangerous territory. It's electric. Pulsing and wild and licking at your skin with the threat to sting.

"You're actin' pretty fucking selfish, ya know."

That's enough to snap you out your trance. You rip yourself out of his hands, backing away to create space so that you can think. Clarity drops over you like a bucket of frigid water, and the combination his static filling the air has your stomach flipping.

"I don't see how this is a big deal. It's not that big of a deal, you're just making it one for no reason."

In comparison to the other accusations and insults that Mammon has jabbed at you during your time with him, this is far from first place, but it's enough to tip you into an angry ramble. You can't seem to stop yourself now that it's started. Your mind and mouth slipping away from you and finally letting everything that you've been struggling to keep contained gushing from out in deluge.

"You're such an asshole. You're selfish, and stupid, and you have the table manners of toddler -" his mouth twists into a snarl, and if you were able to help it you'd shut up, but you can't - "you're a shitty person. You're a shitty boss.

I've skipped out on so much for you and this fucking job: birthdays, parties, sick days - I don't even get days off because you can't ever stop blowing up my phone with literally the dumbest requests. 'Can you go down to the mall and get me a pair of shoes.' 'Go to Gluttony to that donut shop.'

I can't believe I actually have feelings for you."

Time freezes. There's no air in your lungs. Your heart drops to your ass.

It all goes flat. There isn't any noise. For the first time in his life, Mammon has been left speechless. And you certainly can't make yourself speak. Your voice is gone. It's vanished and died.

You feel outside of yourself and hyperaware of your own limbs all at once. Your skin is too tight. The air is hot. You're suffocating.

And Mammon is staring. He looks just as shocked as you probably do, eyes wide and lips parted while he tries to process what's happened.

You're mortified. You want the floor to crack open and send you plummeting to your death. That would be a mercy, but the universe seems to revel in your misery because the ground under your feet remains intact. Leaving you to stand with ice in your veins and embarrassment smarting your cheeks.

You're waiting for the boisterous string of laughter to pierce the air. For him to double over while he cruelly mocks you for your little secret.

It doesn't come.

He spares you that much, but his teeth flash in the dull florescent light in a grin that's brutal. He's beaming. Smiling from ear to ear but the delight on his face is saturated with arrogance. Amused and cocky. Like you've stroked his ego in the best way possible and didn't even know it.

Somehow, this is worse than if he would have just laughed at you.

He's watching you like you're a piece of meat.

It's terrifying and thrilling all at once. You contemplate turning around and running out of his office. He can teleport, but if you're quick enough, maybe you'll at least be able to make it to a different floor. A few moments of life and peace without him watching you like he might pounce.

But your feet aren't working. There's a disconnect between your brain and legs and it has you rooted in place. Trapped in your body while the horror of everything sinks into every facet of you.

"So." He draws the word out, long and heavy, nearly singing it. He stands taller, emphasizing the way that he already looms over you. You think he could eat you whole. "Is that what all this is about? You've got yourself an itsy-bitsy little crush-"

"Don't."

It's a warning and a plea all at once. Your voice is somehow shaken and firm. You're trying to keep yourself together. Holding onto the tearing, terrified halves of yourself with a trembling resolve. It takes all of your strength to try and hold the chaos inside from showing on your face.

All the while, Mammon's grin hasn't wanned. If anything, he only appears even more entertained than before. He'll be riding this high for weeks.

"Aw, it's nothin' to be ashamed of," he purrs. His eyebrows perk up, and his smile becomes almost pervy. "I can't say I'm surprised. It is me-"

"Exactly. It's you." You wave a hand in a sort of 'no shit' sort of gesture.

His offence is shown plainly, his smile vanishing in a split second as he rocks back on his heels like he's been slapped. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, you aren't exactly the most respectable person. And that's putting lightly." You glare at him. Almost too tired and agitated to focus on your embarrassment. The absurdity of the entire situation making it easy to forget the anxiety thrumming beneath it all. "Did you already forget everything I've already said? That entire rant?"

His lips purse and his eyes squint in an exaggerated expression that you might have found funny in any other circumstance, but right now it's just annoying. He eyes flicker up to the ceiling for a moment, as though he'll find the answer that he's searching for in the texture and the water stains.

"Seriously?" you scoff.

"What? I'm a busy man, babes, I've got a lot on my mind."

You have to resist the urge to laugh. Swallowing the sound down before it could bubble free, but it still escapes in a thin, humorless chuckle. And you can't keep yourself from mumbling tiredly under your breath. "That's surprising you'd have anything going on in there."

"I fuckin' heard that, ya bitch." He snaps. The pulse of his static coursing through the air lets you know that you might be poking at him too much now. He's killed people for less, and yet you can't seem to keep your mouth shut.

"We're not getting anywhere doing this." You release a heavy sigh, trying to ground yourself. To soothe your nerves which are still going haywire. "It's just two days. And they'll go by so quick that it'll be like I wasn't even gone."

"If they'll go by quick, why do you even need to take 'em off?"

This is one of those moments where you could seriously bash your head into a wall. It's a tempting thought, to just turn around and swing your head into the plaster. If you were lucky enough, maybe it would knock you out and you'd finally get that break you want.

"You are such a frustrating dick. Why does it matter? You don't have any meetings scheduled in that time frame, no commercials to shoot, no venues to attend - Juno will probably end up taking on the paperwork that you do have. So you'll probably just be sitting on your ass at home, or out at some nightclub."

His anger is back. His eyes are narrow, burning in that toxic shade of green that feels like it burrowing beneath your skin. The hint of his power is charging in the air, thrumming and coiling, causing goose bumps to raise on your skin.

"Cause I fuckin' said so," he snarls. "I'm the boss here, yeah? What I say goes."

You want to argue. You want to throw something, to shout, to leave. But you don't do any of those things. You can't. You're worn out. Frustrated. All of the fight in you has fizzled out; water thrown over a fire, leaving it a damp, smoldering pile of dead embers.

This how he does it. He doesn't win arguments because he's in the right or because he's tactful in the statements he makes, it's because he knows how to ramble arrogant nonsense until you just grow too tired and fed up to continue.

"I think I know what all this fuss is about. You feelin' all out of sorts 'cause of your little crush?" He's smiling again. Teasing. Intentionally prodding at that chip in your armor.

You're typically indifferent to his vulgarity and taunting. The most emotion that he garners from you is usually irritation or anger, and despite him being a Sin that could easily cut your life short, you've never been shy about insulting him back. It's easily one of the most frustrating aspects about the way you interact with each other. You both drive each other up a wall. It's a surprise that he hasn't killed you already or that you haven't emptied out your life savings to pay an assassin stupid and willing enough to try and murder him.

But his taunting is enough to have another wave of embarrassment crashing over you. You want to curl up on the floor and pass away on the spot.

He's like a shark that's smelt blood. Sinking his teeth into wounded flesh and latching on. Now that he's found a weakness to exploit, a thing to dangle over your head, he's going to be relentless. Cruelly twisting your arm with it to satisfy his own ego.

This is awful. You had to go and run your mouth. Had to let your feelings slip out. This might be worst case scenario for you. He's the last person in Hell that you'd ever want to have this information.

There's a relief alongside the pain though, but it isn't pleasant or cathartic. It's like releasing a muscle that's been flexed for too long. Pain rippling alongside the alleviation, the stress of it too much to bask in the repose.

"Forget I said that." You don't bother hiding your glare. Mostly for your own sake. In some last effort scramble to at least trick yourself into feeling braver than you truly are. But that twisted, self-satisfied grin on his face snuffs every bit of wavering confidence that you clung to.

"Are you kidding? I'm gonna be thinkin' about this moment for years." The bells on his costume jingle as his body shimmies, like he's trying to contain his excitement and failing. "You're always walking around here like you're all high and fuckin' mighty, meanwhile you've been creamin' in your panties every time you see me."

You wince, rolling your eyes. "Ugh, don't be gross."

"It's understandable. I have that effect on most people." He continues, unaffected by the angry glower you've pinned him with. "I was after all, named the most desired bachelor in Hell."

"First of all, you threatened them into posting you that high in the ranking, and the internet blew up for months afterwards because hardly anyone agreed with it."

"Whatever," he huffs. Petulant and childish. But just as quickly he's rocking back into that jeering, jovial disposition. He's shifts closer to you, eating up what little bit of space you had created between your bodies while you were panicking. "But it does make me wonder just how long you've been sittin' on your secret."

He creeps up with a fluidity that he shouldn't possess. A rhythmic insectile hiss trills through the air, juxtaposed by the cheerful jingle of his bells, and it makes him seem almost sinister.

It has your heart thumping wildly in your chest, and the luminous glint of his eyes pinning you down does nothing to help. It makes you feel like prey. Caught under his focus with nowhere to run. Feet stuck to the floor.

You hate how heat floods you, simmering under your skin, making your breath catch in your throat. You're trapped. Your attention stuck entirely on him as his body presses close to yours, and you can only hope that you've successfully forced an unbothered look on your face. That you seem unaffected from the chill and weight of him on your heated flesh while your mind stirs into a whirlwind.

You have to tilt your head back just to keep your vision locked with his as he looms over you, and it's only then that your brain fully registers his previous musing.

"Just let it go." You try to move away from him, rocking back on your feet, but a pair of his hands lash out in a blur to grip your shoulders. He's got you locked in place.

"Aw, don' be like that." He grabs ahold of your chin when you attempt to look away from him, turning your head back over to keep your focus on him. "So what's it been? A coupla months? One year? Two? I bet the entire time you've been acting all huffy, you were really just all pent up."

You'd rather die than admit to him that you've been sitting on these feelings for more than half of the time you've known him. How you had practically gone through the five stages of grief after realizing that fluttering that he inspired in your stomach wasn't from repulsion but from affection. How you've spent countless nights staring up the ceiling above your bed, hating yourself and wondering why him.

Your friends have all listened to your confused, defeated rambling when you've had one too many drinks. They do their best to be supportive and offer comfort, but you never miss the disappointed glances they pass each other when they think that you aren't aware. Looks that say, "Really? Why him? " As though you don't already know.

You've fought yourself over it a thousand times. Berating yourself and trying to talk sense into your own brain, doing your best to smother feelings that shouldn't exist at all, but they're always there, lurking just beneath the surface. Hungry and persistent, a lonely, longing dog scratching at the door to escape the cold.

"Poor thing. Must've been torture." He pinches your cheeks. The tone he uses, all low and laced with a gauche type of sympathy is all with the aim to ridicule you, and like the traitor it is your body flushes with heat.

Your thighs squeeze on their own, seeking out a friction that isn't really there, and the lack of relief nearly makes you moan in frustration. Thankfully you have half the mind to swallow the sound down before it could leave you, but you must give something away because the smile on his face grows even wider.

"I'd be happy to help you with your little problem. "

If you didn't know any better, you'd say that you were dead. Passed on and gone off . . . somewhere. Another hell maybe, or a different dimension entirely where nothing makes any sense.

You blink dumbly, lips parting while you struggle to process his what he's said. For a moment, you think that you've misheard him, but the words haven't stopped echoing in your head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Your voice is slow. Careful to make sure that your tongue doesn't snag it in your mouth.

"Let's just cut the bullshit." He says it all matter-of-factly, like he's about to deliver some longwinded sales pitch. "It's not like I haven't noticed. You've been all strung out lately like you've got a broom shoved far up your ass. It's made you even more of a fuckin' drag to be around than usual -" and then, as though it adds less insult to the injury "- and you aren't bad on the eyes."

You lurch back from him, ripping yourself from his grip for the second time tonight. You can't tell if you want to laugh or cry or shout. The sting of how casual he's acting, the lack of tact lashes through you like a whip.

"Is this your idea of seducing me?" Now you're fully looking at the man that you've always regretted liking. The one that made things impossible. Or maybe this is just the reality. This is him as he truly is. The truth that you've struggled to grapple with. That no matter how much you've always wanted to believe otherwise, you'd never be special or appreciated.

"Is it working?" For a moment he almost sounds uncertain. At least that's what you'd like to believe, but the stare he's giving you is sleazy. Dripping with perversion and dumb hubris.

He must see your disappointment because you don't even get a chance to turn around to leave before he's reaching out. "Alright, alright, damn, just listen." He grumbles under his breath. " No sense of humor."

You have to roll your eyes.

"There isn't any reason to runnin' away all pissed off."

"You literally just insulted me. Not to mention, you're my boss. I'm pretty sure propositioning me for sex is breaking some sort of HR violation."

"Since when do we have fucking HR?"

"We don't," you admit with a sigh.

He seems to relax a little bit. Shoulders sagging once he realizes that you aren't making an attempt to leave again. He's wearing that pleased expression again. The one that makes you want to kiss and slap him. "Be honest with yourself; can you actually say that you've never thought of me before? When you're all alone at night with your hand shoved down between your-"

"Does it matter if I have?" Your mouth snaps shut swiftly. It wasn't an admission outright, but it might as well be, boarding close to something that you're determined to keep unsaid. But the damage is already done. He's somehow even more smug; bright eyes burning like he wants to consume you.

"Would it matter if I told you that I've had my hand wrapped around my dick while I thought about fucking you?"

You could combust on the spot. All of the breath has been forcefully snatched from your lungs, like fire eating up all of the air in a room, leaving you empty and burning. You try to center yourself, focusing on the texture of the clothes draped on your skin, trying to listen to the steady stream of audio pouring from the flatscreen, but it sounds miles away; glancing past the height of Mammon's shoulder and through the commercial window to focus on the toxic city skyline.

None of it does you any good.

You feel like you're floating away and stuck all at once, cemented in your own body.

It's a reflex to try and give him some sort of quip in return. Some scratching, humorous remark to try and level the playing field, but you've been reduced speechless.

The thought of him like that flickers across your mind in terrible, tantalizing visions. You hate how your mouth floods with saliva while you picture him fisting his cock. Squeezing it in feverous strokes, the tip leaking for him to collect in his palm, using it to smear over his girth to aid him in fucking his fist.

He'd be big. He'd have to be with how massive he is, scaling over most demons easily.

He'd sound so pretty panting. That graveled edge to his voice turning thin and rumbling while he works himself closer to release.

What would he sound like moaning your name? How many times has he done just that, fucking his own hand with the fantasy of you on his tongue?

It snaps you out from your daze like you've been struck. You can hardly remember how you've gotten here in this moment. The events of the day, the stress, your jealousy, it all seems so murky and distorted, a kaleidoscopic blur.

"I've done it right here in this office." He's slithering around you again, circling you like a serpent coiling its prey.

The confinement of the room is no longer just disorienting and tight, but it feels dirty. The revelation of his perverted fantasies scorching you from the inside out. You can feel his static again, humming and twisting along your limbs, thrashing up your spine in a way that makes you shiver, that has a heavy ache throbbing between your legs.

You've been in this office more times than you can count. Stood at the front of his desk to berate him for ignoring mountains of paperwork and the scandals that he's always determined to get into. Never has it crossed your mind that he's been in here fucking his fist to the thought of you.

It's pathetic how easily it soothes the jealousy that's been haunting you, ebbing the pain away like cream on a burn scar. Ice freezing over something acidic and smoldering.

"You're always wearin' those tight little skirts. Wearing those tops that squeeze your tits just right. Doesn't leave much to the imagination, babe."

You think of all the leering looks he's given you in the past, the quick once overs that you had chalked up to him just being obnoxious. You never gave them any merit. He's known for his perverted tendencies that never really have any true desire behind them, often flirting with people, seemingly just with the goal of being a sleaze. Picking out the wealthiest demon at an even or party in the hopes of hustling some free drinks or meals out of them, but that's typically as far as the flirtation goes.

The individual that had ever truly seemed to capture his attention is Leviathan, with him always seeking her out whenever the Sins are summoned together. Gravitating towards her like a moth to fire. Crawling to her side like a dog begging for scraps.

The reminder is bitter. Sharp and acrid in your mouth. And in an unwelcome rush, you're brought back to reality. Jealousy seeping back into your bones like a poisonous ooze.

"Don't you have Leviathan to go try to flirt with?" you snap.

He blinks like you've struck him, but the chuckle that leaves him is delighted. "Are you jealous?"

You don't answer. You can't. But your silence is confirmation enough.

If the revelation of your crush was going to make him a walking nightmare, then the unveiling that you're strung out enough to actually see Leviathan as some sort of rival is going to have his ego hurtling past the sky.

You can already see the effect of it, how he stands a little straighter, puffing out his chest with a smile that's dopey and complacent. He's eating this up like the attention whore that he is.

"You are." His eyes are ablaze with his delight before darkening. Turning into fervid, luminous pools that has your body thrumming. "I can make you forget about all of that. What do ya say, huh?"

No. It's right there balanced on the tip of your tongue, and yet you're hesitating. It's a simple response. One that would have this conversation ending. You could sweep it under the rug as best as you could, go back to your clear-cut employee and boss relationship - even though you're sure that Mammon would always make sure to remind you of this entire mess. But you could keep your head up and push through it. You know that you could.

And yet . . . You're not sure you want to. Maybe it's wrong - pitiful even, that for the first time in days the anger and bitterness that's been trailing you like a shadow has finally shrunk back. Warded off by his admittance that he's fantasized about you just as much as you have about him.

You should try to remain professional, but it's difficult to ignore that this is bordering close to plenty of the perverted daydreams you've had about him. You've spent countless times bored at meetings or alone at home envisioning him bending you over his desk, rucking up your skirt and fucking you stupid. Taking you while all the other lackies and grunts work just outside the door to his office.

They'd all be able to hear. It would a public declaration. It appeased the sick part of you that you've been trying to ignore, and in your jealousy's absence all that remains is want.

You almost feel like another person when you step towards him, parting through all of your stubborn uncertainty and insecurity. You reach up to grip his cowl, seizing the fabric in a firm grip despite the slight tremor in your fingers.

He looks shocked when your tug him down by the material, the bells on his costume singing sharply in that metallic shudder. Something about his surprise is empowering. The thrill of having knocked him off kilter - as fleeting as it might be - shoots through you like a rush of adrenaline.

You can't keep the smile off of your face as you tug him down to your level; the scent of him clouding all around you with his proximity. An intoxicating surge of musk and ozone.

"I don't think you can make me forget."

His expression almost seems offended, eyes narrowing and mouth twisting until he registers that you're only teasing him. Intentionally goading him on in the aim to get a rise out of him.

His grin is almost mean, all teeth. Like he can't wait to rip into you. "Cheeky fucking bitch."

He snatches you up in blink. Fingers gripping your hips and shoulders like a vice as plumes of rushing, emerald smoke blinds your vision, stuffing your lungs, all bitter and acrid; small charges of lighting licking up your skin and bolting deliciously through your nerves.

It's a quick, dazing blur that has your head spinning and stomach flipping. In a split second your body is being forced over. A hand gripping the back of your head to shove it onto the chilled counter of what must be his desk. A cursory scan of the space confirms that you are still indeed in his office, with the audio from the flatscreen playing steadily while he keeps your face pressed against a folder of files that he's probably never evaluated.

"Should make you do all the work for that bloody snark." You can see his eyes glowing out of your peripheral vision, wide and crazed as a pair of his hands slip down the length of your body in a greedy path. Groping and stroking as they drift, settling only once he reaches the shape of your ass. "But I'll fuck you good this time. You're gonna owe me though."

This time?

You don't have time to contemplate or celebrate the insinuation because he's suddenly ripping your skirt free from your hips with a harsh jerk. Shredding the fabric in single motion.

A complaint is right there in your throat, but it's forced into a gasp when one of his palms strikes down onto your ass with a sharp smack, smarting skin underneath the strength of it.

He groans when it jiggles, smoothing his hand down the stinging skin like he's trying to soothe it but the way he scratches the points of his gloved talons down the bruising flesh is pitiless. It makes you hiss out, spine arching like your body can't decide if it wants to twist away or lean closer to the fire he leaves behind his claws.

"Mammon." You try to admonish him, but it lacks bite, wavering into a weak moan.

It goes ignored, two of his fingers prodding against your clothed pussy, grinding his knuckles against the fabric. It has the texture of your underwear brushing over your clit, too light to be truly fulfilling, but it still has your hips rocking to chase after the sensation.

He's barely touched you and it's already enough to have your eyes fluttering. And then he's removing his hand away, making the pleasure fade into a dull throb that has you mourning the press of his knuckles.

"Damn, you're fuckin' soaked." There's awe and lust in his voice, thick and heavy, blending with the rough nature of his voice and turning it ragged. "How long have you been sittin' like this, all wet and squirming?"

His words are muffled and slurred. It takes the sound of slurping for your sluggish brain to connect the dots. He's sucking on his fingers.

You strain your neck to look back at him, ignoring the ache in your neck to watch him as he shoves then deeper into his mouth. It's vulgar and shameless how he groans around their intrusion, drinking down the taste of you on his gloves, slipping and coiling the length of his striped tongue around his fingers.

You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, a low whimper leaving your lips.

"Feelin' desperate?" he snickers.

"Oh, shut u-" you yelp abruptly, hips jolting from the table making your pelvis lurch painfully against the lip of the desk as Mammon sadistically snatches ahold of your underwear and twists it up. Pulling the fabric taut and tugging until it's wedged between the lips of your cunt, nudging on your clit.

The sound that leaves you is tortured and rapturous all at once. A gutted noise that would leave you embarrassed if you were clear headed enough. You can hardly care about being humiliated while he's keeping that pressure on your pussy, keeping you spread open on the snug cotton.

Your thighs clench, rubbing in a reflective attempt to seek out more tension, but all it does is make you brutally aware of the slick already smearing down your skin.

"Should have known you'd be a slut." There's creaking behind you, the sound of bells jingling as he settles into his chair. It's only then that he lets up on the hold he has on your underwear, a reprieve and loss all at once. "What about it, sweet thing, gonna let me have a taste?"

Chilled breath brushes over your ass, soothing the burn that still throbs from the impact of his hand. It's enough to have your body relaxing with a sigh before you realize what he's said. His offer has your brain scrambling for a moment. Never would you have imagined that he'd ask to go down on you. You figured that he'd already be wrestling to your knees right now, demanding that you swallow down his cock and get him off - not the other way around. But there's no way you're going to turn him down.

"Please," you blurt. Your nails rake across the cherrywood counter, clawing in anticipation to feel the damp of his tongue over your heated flesh.

"Are you sure?" he teases with mock hesitation. "You don't sound like you want it all that bad."

"Yes, yes, please, Mammon," you crumble easily. Giving like sugar melting on heat. "I want it - I need you to touch me. I need you to fuck me."

"Well then, since you asked me so nicely." The condescension in his tone should insult you but it only makes you burn hotter. Nerves singing and smoldering like you've been doused in gasoline.

He tears your panties from you too. They pinch your skin before they give, but it's hard to focus on that while he shreds them from your hips, ripping them as though they're made from paper.

A surprised cry leaves you from the chilled lashing of his tongue laving over your cunt, crudely spreading your apart on the long appendaged. His mouth his cold, shocking on your hot cunt, zapping up your spine like ice.

A pair of his hands slip back down on your hips, turning ridged, fixing you in place when you squirm while he eats you from the back. Smothering himself in you with a passion that you wouldn't ever anticipated.

He groans heavily. A guttural, deep noise that has tremors dipping through your pussy. It has your brain nearly fogging over when the length of his prehensile tongue sweeps down to circle around your clit in teasing glides before it dips inside of you. Stroking down to work deep inside like he's trying to drink you.

Each curl and tug pulls a moan from you, pitchy and loud, growing higher. You aren't even fully aware of the increasing volume. How your cries are echoing off of the walls, no doubt slipping past the door where everyone else will be able to hear and easily piece together what's happening.

You know you're going to get looks when you leave the office. Employees lifting themselves up from their chairs, peeking over their worn cubicles to try and get a peek of you, staring in judgement and awe.

How you're going to leave his office is another thing entirely. The bastard ripped your skirt and underwear, but honestly that's a problem for the future. It's difficult to be bothered with troubles like that, to worry about the gossip that's probably already spreading around the building like a wildfire while your boss has his tongue inside of you.

They'll all be talking about you for weeks, but you'll wear it with pride.

His tongue is so deep, reaching a point that you didn't know was possible. Brushing over places like he's searching for something, and when the tick point of it strokes over that patch that makes your toes curl, he centers all of his focus on it. Lapping at that point like he means to take you apart piece by piece and leave you in pool of liquid muscle and bliss.

He's mean about it. Mouthing at your pussy like he's tempted to take a bite of you. Scraping a hint of his lethal teeth over your lips and clit, sending sparks and smoke flicker through your nerves.

The way he does it is sloppy. Almost amateur. Like he's not entirely sure what he's doing, but the enthusiasm he has, moaning and breathing into you, lapping and sucking like he's starved makes up for where he lacks.

You can hear how wet you are. You're dripping, spit and cum dripping down your inner thighs. The stiff hold he has on your hips has your spine stuck in a firm arch, but apparently it's not enough, because he's lifting you ass up high in the air. A sting darts down your back at he holds you up, positioning you until only your chest is held up by the desk.

Even with him hunched over on his chair, there's still a decent height imbalance. Your legs fling out on instinct, kicking out to try and balance yourself, but the sharp smack that he delivers to your ass has you going limp in his hands. He mumbles a complaint into your cunt, too enraptured to pull himself from you, but you think that you can make out something over the cloud stuffing your skull and the slurred nature of his words.

Something that sounds close to "quit fuckin' squirming."

He at least has the decency to snatch both of your legs and swing them to rest the front them on his shoulders, offering you a little bit more stability. It does little to ground you though. You feel like you're floating, even while your back stings and the clutch of his fingers on your hips is bruising.

He's relentless. Fucking his tongue into you like he wants to make a place for himself there. Like he's trying to leave his mark and stain you from the inside out.

You're panting. Strangled puffs of air wrangling from your lungs with every drag of his soaked tongue.

"This cunt's fuckin' filthy," he groans, just as ragged and desperate as you sound. "Such a slutty thing. Wan' you to soak me. Cum all over my face."

His drunken rambling has your every muscle in you drawing up tight. Pleasures licking up your spine, boiling in the base of your stomach, blurring behind your eyes. It rushes up on you in a blink. In a split second, it all goes white.

Your claws lash across the counter, slicing permanent divots through the wood as you try to keep yourself present through the ripples making your muscles writhe and jerk.

You suck in a skipping breath, straining to gulp down enough air to orient yourself through the heat. It keeps rolling through you. Making your limbs twitch and spine arch as he coasts you through the stretch of your orgasm with his tongue.

It doesn't take long for the bliss to melt into something bright and a little too keen. A whimper punches from your chest, a hand mindlessly slapping against the chilled counter as you try to wiggle out from underneath his mouth.

"Mammon, what-"

"Keep fucking still," he chides, stroking his finger over your clit in way that makes your nerves feel as though they've been dipped in lightning. "You're ruinin' my meal."

You swear sharply, mouth opening in a silent cry as he continues to lick at you and gulp you down. It's agony. Clear that he's not doing it for your pleasure, but his own. Getting some sort of sadistic enjoyment out of having you spread out and bent beneath him, tortured on his tongue. Swallowing you down in greedy gulps.

The weight of his static threatening to charge the air makes the overstimulation even more intense. It's fuzzy and shocking; your perception muting down into blurred edges. You're almost uncomfortably aware of your own being, the ache in your bones, the spit and cum staining your skin, the tender throb that pulses through your spasming pussy.

He's relentless and you can't manage to hardly breathe. Your panting leaves you in hiccupping, pitchy sounds that are no doubt bleeding past the door and echoing over the occupied cubicles in muffled cries. Everyone can hear you like this. It should be embarrassing, but all you feel is relief. There's pride swelling in your chest, because you're the one in here with him. Not Leviathan, not anyone else - you.

The alleviation of it pours down your spine like melted wax; embers biting at your fingertips and toes, smoldering thickly in the base of your abdomen.

He chuckles deeply, the smothered noise rippling through your cunt, wringing another set of tremors from you. It's a mindless movement when your hips rock back to fuck yourself on his tongue, eyes rolling as he dips it in deeper.

"Squeezin' on me tight," he slurs, slipping his tongue from your just long enough to mumble. "Want another one? Think you can handle it? Yeah, you're all fucked out already, needy lil' slut."

He pats your ass, all condescending rather than praising but it has you flushing with warmth. Turning hot and boneless as you chase after your high. You will yourself to nod your head, your cheek rubbing along the wood in agreement. That's not enough, apparently, because delivers a row of harsh smacks on the swell of your rump, making you squeal in surprise.

"Don't tell me I've fucked that dumb little head of yours empty already. Where are your manners, huh?" He slips two of his fingers in then, thrusting and crooking them to make you choke. He breathes in deeply, inhaling the scent of your pussy. It's crude and perverted. Your face prickles as the chill of his breath brushes over you, a stark contrast to your heated skin and it has you squirming. "Use your words and speak up. Don't be rude now."

"Yes. Yes, I want another one," you blurt in a near delirious surge. " I need it. " His name leaves you in a chant, like a broken record. Each utterance somehow more desperate than the last.

"Alright, damn, there's no need to beg." Everything is glazed over and hazy, and yet a flicker of irritation still manages to glint through the smoke at his snark. You can't dwell on it. And you definitely can't act on it with how he's working each thought from your head with every curl of his fingers.

When you cum again time distorts. Everything seems like it's been doused in syrup, turned sluggish and sweet. It's all been punched out of you until all you can do is sit and take it; struggling to hang on through the wet of his mouth, but he's got you stuck.

His hands are heavy, weighted things that keep you in place while your body tries to contort under his palms. At some point you've started babbling, but you can hardly hear through the roaring of your own ears to understand what you're even saying.

It's all a blur. A kaleidoscopic rush of electricity and pleasure, a weight that feels like liquid and warmth; injected into your veins to make your limbs fall heavy and useless.

He's kept you here for so long - or maybe it's only been minutes - fucked on his tongue and fingers while he takes you apart with a skill that you never expected to be possible for someone like him.

He doesn't stop either.

You aren't sure how many times he tips you over that bright edge, keeping you submerged and drowned beneath in a timeless flow. All you can tell is that you're gasping, keening through empty lungs while you seize up as his tongue forces out another violent high. It shudders through you in heavy tremors. Your cunt clenches tightly around his tongue, flexing and gushing, while the pleasure blends in with all the rest. Stretching out like something infinite. The effect of the endorphins filling your veins making you almost drunk, drooling while you moan out pathetic gasps.

All you can do is whine. Squirming under his hold when it becomes too much, ecstasy twining into something sharp and frayed. You've probably gone all stary-eyed.

He's so smug about it too. You can feel the shape of his wide smile pressing against your skin.

"Mammon, wait . . . give me a minute," you slur.

"What? Tappin' out already?"

You hum lowly, too worn to get yourself to properly speak again. Despite his chiding he eases off, slipping his tongue from you to finally let you breathe. You can't stop the pained groan that leaves you when he shifts your body, maneuvering you down from where he had you tightly suspended on his mouth, letting you sag back down on the desk like a broken, limp doll.

His hands are still firm. Stroking and squeezing at your sweat dampened skin like he can't get enough.

A part of you is still far off and drifted high in plumes of smoke. It's all fuzzy around the corners of your mind, sugar and static humming through your muscles. It makes you all lax and dopey, easily the most relaxed you've probably been in years. All of the stress and anger having been thoroughly wrung from you like water twisted from a cloth.

On some subconscious level you recognize him creeping closer, the electricity thrumming around him like a live wire prickling up your spine as he crouches over you. Hunching the shape of his body over yours like he's trying to cage you in.

"Don't quit on me now," he encourages in a mean coo. It's then you feel it. Something tepid and big pressing against the wet entrance of your pussy, cruelly nudging to smear it in the cum soaking your skin.

You can't help the way you whine. Gasping as you squirm underneath the press of it. It's not even inside of you yet and he feels massive. The thick head of his cock splitting your lips wide open to grind heavy circles on your clit.

Even with how many times he's made you cum there's still no way that you're going to be able to take him all in one go. It's a sobering thought, but the debauched ache that throbs through you at the thought of successfully taking him is undeniable. But you already feel so spread thin, worked out and left boneless; he's going to ruin you.

"Mammon, I - I don't know if I ca-"

"Of course you can," he assures in a rich baritone purr that coils in the pit of your stomach. His talons dig in deeper, like a beast with prey in its claws. "You can do it."

His voice is nearly sing-song. So light and relaxed for someone who's planning to tear you apart. He's already crushing you under his weight, dragging is cock over your clit in a delicious rhythm that already has your jaw dropping open. Hitching the head of it at your entrance, pressing forward enough to tease. It's not even in - not even close - and it already has you choking on air.

He was nice enough to give you what you wanted in the beginning. To prove a point that he could. This is all about him now, and he isn't going to leave anything left.

"Again, and again, and again."

You just don't know if you're going to make it out alive.

[i-know-you-know-we-know-lee-know]

Skz hyung line react to being called good boy

Guess what?

Im not dead

ʸⁱᵖᵖᵉᵉ

Sorry i dropped off the face of the earth for like three weeks

I dont really have an excuse for it lmao

But hey! My ult groups both had comebacks so that's a plus ig

Also i kinda changed my organization style a bit bc it fit better with what i was writing

Warnings: slightly suggestive(?) fluff, read at your own risk ig, mild cursing, Minho is probably the most suggestive so you can skip if it makes you uncompfy, readers gender is not specified but they do wear more "feminine" clothes in Minho's, mentions of food

Maknae Line

Chan

Shook

Is the only way i can describe it

Literally whips his head around with he most bewildered expression on his face

Ya know?

Kinda like that

Anyways

Scenario~

You had been feeling a bit ✨mischievous✨ lately and decided to prank Chan. Luckily he was a very compatible victim and had not a single clue what you were doing.

"Channie can you get that box from up there"

You say, looking to him for help with the box you had definitely not put up on the top shelf earlier needed to get down

Chan, being the chivalrous bf he is, plucks the box down from the top shelf and hands it to you.

"good boy" you say, standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and walking away nonchalantly.

"your welco- wait what" Chan says, looking at you flabbergasted as you walked away from him.

But soon he grins and sets off after you down the hall

"good boy huh? I could get used to that"

UHM

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN GOOD SIR?

...

*realises i just wrote that*

I-

What?

Anyways moving on

Minho

Ok so there's two options

1. 😏

2. 😐

Or both

But most likely 1

" min can you come in here?"

You call out to your boyfriend, awkwardly holding the top of your dress up while the back hangs open.

"hmm? Yeah what do you need love- oh"

He stops behind you and you can see his eyes in the mirror traveling from your reflected face to the front of your dress to thr back and down lower-

"will you quit staring at my ass and help me with my dress"

You say, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he grins

"how can i help it when you look like this?"

He says, causing heat to rise on your cheeks as you feel his hands warm on your back

He laces up the back of your corset top dress and ties it at the end, stepping back to admire his work

You turn around to see what he's done and find it acceptable

"good boy" you say, turning back around to smooth out the front of your dress

Minho freezes, blinks a few times, then smirks and leans down over your shoulder

"good boy?" he says with a raised eyebrow "are you trying to make us late to the party?" he murmurs in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him

You were in fact late to the party and although you told everyone you simply lost track of time (which was technically true) your lipstick peeking out from Minho's collar which he "forgot to rub off" told a different story

No thoughts

Head empty

(except Minho, he's always in there)

⸜( •⌄• )⸝

Changbin

He is also shook

But in a more innocent way?

Kinda?

Like he doesn't know how to react but he thinks he likes it

He definitely likes it

The two of you were going on a nice walk out in the park and were having a lovely time.

You decided to stop on a bridge to look over the edge and take a break from walking for a bit.

Changbin was telling you about his past week and how busy it had been when he noticed your shoe was untied.

"we've been practicing almost every day for such a long time now im glad i get a break today- hey your shoes untied"

He stoops down, still talking and ties your shoe for you while you watch him.

You've tried telling him you can tie your shoes on your own but alas, he doesn't listen so you've gotten used to it.

But this time you decided to pull a little prank on him.

"good boy" you say to him as he stands back up to your level.

"and on tuesd- what" he stops mid sentence, looking at you confused. "what did you just say?"

You frown, faking confusion

"what? I didn't say anything"

"yes you did i heard you"

You laugh, linking your arm with his and pulling him along the walking trail.

"you shouldn't say things like that in public baby it sounds wierd"

You glance up at your boyfriend, who's face now has a red tinge and laugh again

Who knew you could get him so worked up with just two words?

*sighs*

God i love him so much

🥰

Hyunjin

Boi likes it

But doesn't show it

Because he's too shy to admit he wants you to say it again

But he might ask

Might...

Hyunjin had been watching movies with you for the past few hours and had just gotten up to make yet another bowl of popcorn for the two of you.

He came back with a heaping bowl for both of you to share and held it just out of arms length from you.

"isn't there something you'd like to say to me?" he asks, looking down at your small form curled up on the couch.

"please?"

"close, but not quite"

Hyunjin grins, still holding the bowl just out of your reach.

"im looking for two wor-"

"good boy"

He freezes, and you take advantage of his confused state to lunge and grab the bowl.

He takes a few seconds to fully process what you just said and flops down on the couch next to you.

"why'd you say that?" he mumbles, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

You laugh "to see your reaction"

Hyunjin sits in silence for a few moments, contemplating life and processing the last few seconds

"say it again"

"say what again?"

"...you know"

You laugh

"good boy, Hyunjin"

Don't you just love it when Hyunjin system malfunctions? 🥰

hehehe

I enjoyed writing this

[astroismypassion]

Can you do Taurus Moon men culture please?

TAURUS MOON MEN CULTURE:

he knows all the best restaurants, coffee shops, cafes, bars in town

likely has the taste for food that you end up loving it, because it's just so good, there's not a single dish this man recommends, that you wouldn't like

yeah, better to not expect this guy to be verbal with his feelings, he probably doesn't articulate himself well, when it comes to describing what you mean to him, which traits he likes about you, how much he likes you haha, it's more like he will only say he enjoys hanging with you, he likes being in your company or that he likes to be around you, but that about it haha

but immaculate hugs

i mean he's like an alive big-sized teddy bear, so soft and comfortable to hug

with that being said, he is veryy stoic, this is kinda how you imagine Capricorn Moon to be, that's Taurus Moon for you, he will seem like you are talking to a wall, when you try to talk about feelings and he never opens up about his own emotional world, feelings

good luck getting a reaction out of him, because it ain't happening

you can create tension, try to argue, provoke him, but he won't budge, he will be very calm during that

during that time, he might rather ignore you then for a few days, in order for you to calm down and due to wanting things to pass and return to how you two used to be

this man is obsessed with putting things back into its stable place, to how they were (so naturally conflicts might not get resolved)

but honestly he is great at "perserving stability" let's put it this way

he loves to eat out with his partner, cook for them, order in food or cook with them a nice homemade meal

he probably believes that everybody should learn how to cook some basic meals

also this is one under-rated Moon sign for loving equality, reciprocal energy, he loves equal give and take with his partner, similar to Libra Moon energy

like if he will be doing all the work in the partnership, he might start complaining, because he just wants to chill at times as well

but yeah, he works hard at a relationship, but usually attract veryy moody partners, much moodier and emotional than him

loves if you are financially stable and independent

likes to be treated out from time to time as well, this is definitely not the guy that will be always paying for you

loves to give perfumes as a birthday gift

also what's up with the fascination and the love of spices, dude?

low-key can be incredibly insecure at times, like you definitely need to hype him up, because he is looking for appreciation and validation from you (especially when you are already in a partnership with him)

loves music

nostalgic and vintage, kinda likes old school things, can be traditional to an extent, but when it comes to paying much more progressive, wants to divide and share costs

when he says he doesn't care, he actually doesn't

hmm i don't know, i've seen these people fall in love fast, they kinda develop feelings quickly despite maybe thinking Taurus is slow-moving, maybe it's that sidereal Aries Moon

likes to wear very comfortable clothing

very set on his food choices, very picky with food, he only likes the food that he has been eating and is used to for years

yes kinda loves to be spoiled as well

@astroismypassion

[lovingtetsurou]

-`｡ cosplay — kuroo tetsurou. ˚ˎ-

cw : smut 1K. established relationship. somewhat pwp. self-indulgent. cosplaying. reader is shorter than kuroo. mentions reader has a slightly foul mouth lol. petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, doll, princess). a/n : kuroo brainrot. word dump. not proofread. i'm just thinking with my pus– idk how or why but this idea just came to me, popped out of nowhere when i saw this cute elf-ish, cottage-core, fairy-core, outfit in a game that i was playing so... enjoy ig bcs i sure did ;) p.s. reader's not cosplaying a particular anime character!

after losing a bet, you now find yourself changing into an elf costume. it was kuroo's idea. it's a cosplay of a character, but you didn't know who it was since you weren't that much familiar with anime like kuroo was. (ironic, isn't it?)

'hmm, not bad.' you thought to yourself as you looked at the mirror and scanned the outfit.

a lilac themed palette. cinderella-like shoes. a short, ruffled dress that emphasized your waist and long, puffy, loose, chiffon sleeves that are fitted on the wrist. an off shoulder top that showed off the collarbones. daisy flowers tightly wrapped around the neck. crystal-like jewelry hung by the ears. and the cherry on top: a ferronnières.

“knock knock. you alright there, baby? you're not chickening out, are you?” your lover spoke at the other side of the door, the smirk evident in his tone. after rolling your eyes and holding back a smile, you took one last look at yourself and decided to show him what he's been waiting for. “hold your horses, will ya? i'm comin' out. and don't you dare laugh or you'll get kicked in the nuts.”

kuroo always found your vulgar language amusing as it contrasted your demure demeanor. he felt nice knowing you could be honest around him without holding back.

you opened the door and took a step back, letting the man in front of you get a better look at you.

beautiful. ethereal. pristine. elegant. pure. chaste. innocent. divine. heavenly. there were countless words to describe you, yet he could only stare. his mind had gone blank at the sight of an angel. his angel.

well, technically, his elf, right now,

“how is it?” you slowly asked, not knowing why you did. maybe it's because you initially thought that this was a dumb idea, but now that you've tried it, it might not be so bad. maybe it's because at the start, you wanted to just play and get a good laugh out of this, but now you actually wanted him to like it.

your fingers started fidgeting with the hem of the dress, avoiding eye contact at all costs, not wanting to feel more embarrassed than you already were.

“this might not be bad y'know. the dress is kinda nice. though i don't know much about the character so i don't know whether it would've been better if i had put on some makeup or not– mmph” before you could even finish your sentence, he snatched your lips with his, delicately cupping your cheek as he kissed you with much fervor, but at the same time, he was gentle and careful.

after he was satisfied, he pulled himself back to admire you once more since the first time, he got carried away and didn't have much time to take you all in. you normally take him all in.

“did you know–” he paused, eyes finally landing back on yours after engraving this image in his memory. “it's my favorite character because it reminded me of you.” he smiled that adoring smile of his that always got you so down bad.

“and why's that?” you tried to hold back a grin as you got ahead of yourself. kuroo chuckled, pinching both of your cheeks with a goofy look on his face. “because they look so innocent but they have the nastiest mouth.” he kids which earns him a playful (but strong, nevertheless) slap on his arm.

“i do not. i just curse, a lot.” you defensively retort.

“oh yeah? we'll see about that. i'd love to watch you eat your words, or in your case, spit it all up.”

kuroo is a man of his words, and he sure doesn't like to back down.

after the hazy happenings, you're now the one getting slapped on your ass. only this time around, it's kuroo's thighs that are smacking your backside with his length sliding in and out of your gaping hole.

your wrists were pinned above your head by tetsurou who's only using one arm to tie you down as his other is busy toying with your mounds, pinching and pulling. his mouth would alternate between sucking on your areolas, making out with you, and leaving bites on your collarbones, neck, earlobe, everywhere his lips could reach.

it felt hotter because he was fucking you with your clothes still on. your bare skin before was now decorated with blooming red and purple love marks.

despite getting all down and dirty, in kuroo's eyes, you still managed to look so magnificent, so angelic. the sounds you make were another case, however. spewing curses, lewd moans, salacious whines, lustful begging; it's a succubus speaking.

“yes? feels so good that you're finally showing your true colors, sweetheart?”

“ohh fuck me— yesyes right there that's the spot! your cock's going so deep inside me it's like your fucking me to heaven— hnng don't stop please, breed me, wreck my insides and reshape it, fill me up with your cum will you? please please—!”

he twitches inside of you from how horny you get that your rambles get so debaucherous.

“fuck. my sweet girl. every damn time, you still take my breath away.” he chuckles, amused, so turned on, and close to his high which was evident from his sloppy movements.

“shit, so close, doll. come with me, yeah? i'll give you all that i have. gonna fill you up to the brim and breed your dirty, little, hole. you'd like that, won't you, princess?”

“oh my god, yesyes i'd like that a lot— hnngah fuck 'm gonna cum so hard on your dick!” your walls pulsated around him, getting tighter and tighter from the pleasure that was threatening to spill. and after just a single flick, everything crumbles apart.

the aftermath was just as fun, especially for kuroo.

“curse a lot my ass.” he weakly laughs, giving you a kiss on your temple as he tries to catch his breath.

you lightly smack his shoulder, body slumping against tetsurou who instinctively pulls you to lay down on his chest, hands automatically brushing your hair to soothe you and calm you down, all the while giving you loving kisses here and there.

“but it's one of the things i love about you, so don't go holding back on me and just curse me endlessly. knew it was your love language from the start.” he chuckles, giving you a longer kiss to shut you up. not that you're complaining.

© lovingtetsurou  — do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or repost my posts anywhere

[sorencd]

hii idk if u are taking request (if you're not ignore this lmao) but could you write some todd anderson fluff? my sister moved away and im feeling kinda sad :( idk if you write for todd either lol anyways love ur account!!

1:05

pairing: todd anderson x reader

summary: a silly little game of tickle fight with todd.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: ofc! <3 i was supposed to keep this short but i'm an absolute sucker for fluff so i went a little overboard hhfhhfhefdfr i hope u like it!

masterlist

it was starting to get repetitive. the few episodes you watched earlier were somewhat more entertaining, or shall you say as entertaining as watching a lawyer defend their client gets. there were moments where it really got you and todd riled up, but after that it'll just be another line of the guy on screen describing to you what a public defender is.

'the court is adjourned!' the voice of the guy on screen shouted as he banged his gavel on the wooden sound block, signalling that the aired episode was over.

"i'm starting to get sick of this bart matthew guy's face. how long have we been watching?" you asked, leaning your head further into todd's body until it was on his lap.

"i think it we started at season 1, we've been at it for a while." todd said as he reached for the remote controller, "do you want me to switch the channel, love?"

"okay, maybe that show my mom watches is on. the eve garden something?" you sat up and pondered with a hand on your chin. 

"it's eve arden, i've seen bits of it a few times."

you hastily laid back down and yawned as you shook your head in understanding, moving on your side to watch todd fiddle with the remote controller in search for a good show. sunday afternoons were usually like this, rather than going out and doing activities that would require human interaction, todd would instead show up at your front door to spend time with you, saving you both the time and effort of socialising─ which you knew todd preferred. for the next few hours, you'd both be huddled in bed or on the couch in each other's arms, reading each other silly poems and stories you'd make up, or watch tv until the sun goes down. to some it might be boring, yes, but nothing's boring when it's with todd.

"hey todd?"

he hummed as he moved his focus away from the television and onto you, who was staring up at him with an all too familiar look on your face. you were about to crack a bad joke.

"what is it called-"

"please make it a good joke this time."

"it is! i guarantee you that you'll laugh your knickers off!"

he once again hummed as he raised his eyebrows with a skeptical look, he knew the joke would be so stupid that it wasn't the joke he's laughing at─ but the sheer stupidity of it is what makes him snicker. he let's it slide though, since he gets to see that bright smile of yours every time. 

"alright so, what is it called when the doctor has to tickle you to see if you're conscious?"

todd shook his head, he has no idea what it could be. it could be anything! "i don't know, what?"

"a test tickle." you let out an obnoxious laugh with a slap to the knee as you cackled at your own joke. he on the other hand can't help but wonder where do you get all these jokes from? 

"that was a bad joke." 

"no it's not! i made you laugh, you're laughing right now!"

"you can hardly consider this laughing!"

an idea came to your mind as soon as the words left your lover's mouth. his face contorted in worry when he saw you move back a little on your side of the couch, and you had this... mischievous expression on. you were up to something.

"hmm... it wouldn't be laughing if i did this then?" you suddenly jumped onto him and started tickling his sides, earning yourself a loud snort from todd.

"w-wait- this isn't- this isn't fair!" his face was turning red with how hard he was laughing. you weren't prepared though when abruptly he flipped you on your back, effectively halting you of your attack and giving you a taste of your own medicine.

the only thing that could be heard in your living room was the sound of you and todd cackling like maniacs. to the people outside your house, they could've easily mistaken it as two children playing. in the middle of your tickle-fighting, todd tried to escape from your unforgiving grasp and tried to make a run from it. you attempted grabbing onto his torso to prevent him from leaving your clutches, but instead of successfully being able to pull him back─ you instead got a hold of his pajamas that he was wearing that day and pulled down. accidentally revealing what was he was wearing that day. in your terms he technically he did laugh his underwear off, except it was his pants.

"h-hey you can't do that!" todd stuttered as his laughed grew even louder. he scrambled to pull his pants back up and almost fell over in the process. your stomach was starting to hurt, and your eyes were welling with tears as you caught a glimpse of his boxers, he had the superman ones that you gave him as joke on his birthday on.

after he got a good distance between the two of you, and after he successfully pulled his pajamas back up, he calmed down to catch his breath which was ragged from all the laughing. you, who was on the couch, were lying on your stomach, you hushed snickers muffled by the couch as you watched him. the memory of his boxers that were now covered by his pants still lingering in your mind. 

to control your own breathing, since you were also out of breath, you momentarily closed your eyes with a tired smile on. you forgot how draining tickle fights were. "i must say, what manly boxers you have, mr. anderson." 

unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend was slowly creeping his way behind the couch on his tippy toes. it looks like the war wasn't over. when you didn't hear from him, you lifted your head up to check if he was still where you last saw him before you closed your eyes.

"todd?-"

suddenly, you felt something very heavy being pressed onto your entire body─ causing you to shriek in surprise. it was todd. he was laying on top of you with his arms wrapping your body, like he was giving you a bear hug. in that position, he could easily tickle both of your sides. making him the winner of today's tickle fight. and tickle you he did.

"t-todd- i-" you were being cut off by your own uncontrollable laughter, squirming and writhing in his embrace. "you win! you win!"

he instantly let go of you, his lips curled into a huge victorious grin as he sat there, towering over you triumphantly. his hair was all ruffled and he still looked like he just finished running a marathon. you smiled him, your entirety overflowing with happiness, and he shyly smiled back in return before cheering in a hushed manner and whisper shouting like he was an announcer on the sports channel.

"and the crowd goes wild! todd anderson takes home the trophy for today's match!" 

you giggled and swiftly wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“i will have my revenge, you!”

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[shadow-laviko]

Thing no one asked about

I've been thinking a lot today

And I want to give my opinion about what I think Rain Code characters smell like

(Also interested in hearing what you guys think)

Spoilers for chapter 0... and maybe chapter 5 actually

Bonus point : I tend to mistake scent and smell, so, might use both, sorry in advance

So,

Yuma : Smells like the plastic of rainboots/rain coat + faint flowery smell of the likes of roses (no specific one) or lavender

Shinigami : Smells like dusty feathers and strawberry candies, or something sweet maybe vanilla too

Aide (Fake Zilch) : While impersonating Zilch : Cologne and some faint blend of animal smells (like rodents, cat litter or dogs... maybe especially rodents). While himself : maybe cologne, and a faint smell of blood and gun powder (maybe also dirt but hmm not sure about this one)

Melami : Makeup and luxury perfumes

Pucci : Laudry mostly

Aphex : Either cologne or strong deodorant for men + faint scent of sweat

Zange : Paper/ink, and cigar and cologne

Swank : Cigar and I can't think of anything else

Yakou : Cigarettes of course, and maybe some food smell of some kind + some kind of sea smelling shampoo/shower gel

Halara : Rain coat/rain boots and maybe some catnip to attract cats + maybe sakura blossom shower gel

Fubuki : Pink rose and some type of wood like pine maybe... or cinnamon

Vivia : Ashes/dust and books/papers

Desuhiko : Depending of whether he's on a case or not. If on a case : a blend of laundry, makeup, perfume and cologne. If not on a case... Some neutral deodorant and that specific smell from clothes you wear often. You know the one? It's not stinky, it just has a distinct scent, even when clean

Priest : Wax and something else like maybe... I don't know, something strong but not agressive

The other 3 from chapter 1 (not counting the boy and his dad) : Idk. Maybe cookies or apple pie for the Servant

Seth : Dirt and a blend of flowers like daisies or something (lilac?)... Maybe daisies and lemon actually

Martina : I don't really know, perfume and something else?

Yomi : Cedar wood and leather (maybe cologne too)

Kurumi : Laundry and either vanilla or orange blossom water

The other Aetheria girls : I don't really know, I feel like Waruna would smell like a specific shampoo, (but I can’t figure out which one), maybe makeup for Yoshiko and pomegranate shower gel for Kurane

Shachi : Sweat and idk, maybe coffee, or motor oil

Ikari : The specific smell of swimming cap and stagnating water

Servan : Same as Desuhiko, the smell of clothes you wear often

Margulaw : Old wooden furnitures/antiquities + that old people smell

Iruka : Salt (for some fucking reason ???) and gunpowder or motor oil

Guillaume : Bubblegum and books/papers/cards, and rainboots/ rain coat

Dominic : Hard to explain and can be different for everyone, but, I'd say he smells like that old plushie you've had since your childhood

Fink : no idea

Huesca : Similar to the smell there is at an hospital/at the doctor

Akira (The robot guy) : The smell of a tech shop / of... you know when you open a box with your new TV/computer/phone/console/electronic device? Well, that one. And maybe tea of some kind

The Ramen Stand Owner : Well, ramen (I know there are different kinds, so like, either a blend of many kinds, or just the most basic one)

Makoto : Lavender for sure, and enigma. I don't know how to describe it, but an enigma/mystery has some kind of smell (not the words, the idea/phenomenon in itself). Or maybe it's like the mood an enigma sets, which somehow kinda transposes into a scent? Idk how to describe it... + maybe some conditioner

The previous Amaterasu CEO : Idk, rich man something, like whisky or tobacco or cologne, idk, the kind of things tou think about when you picture a CEO in your mind

Did I forget anyone? I don't know

[catgirl-valeria]

“Ohhh Hope’s overpowered, she’s such a mary sue, how could she beat a god and doom” okay i’m gonna break this down as simply as i can

hope fortnite is not a mary sue you guys are just mean

in this essay i will defend my bbg because i get her better than yall. my credentials are that i love literary analysis and i think im at least half decent at it, and Ive been paying attention to Hope’s story since chapter 5 season 1.

Okay so. First things first, I don’t believe that being a ‘mary sue’ is a bad thing inherently. Anakin Skywalker is the fucking most powerful guy in the entire star wars universe for no reason other than his blood said he is and he is one of the most beloved characters in that franchise. his son luke destroyed a bazillion dollar monument to the military industrial complex on his first flight in an X-Wing. neither of these characters get shit from anyone (hm i wonder what one thing these two have in common that hope doesn’t. hmm)

Secondly. Hope has a character. She has motivations. From the moment we as an audience are introduced to her, we are told that she is anti-authority (she is described as a rebel in almost every bit of content associated with her during season one, and she directly fights against the literal symbol of authority in The Society.) This is the same drive that causes her to fight against Zeus, as what is more authoritarian than a literal God-King. She also cares greatly about freedom and choice. Go back and listen to her dialogue during the Mysterio quest-line, it is the angriest we ever hear her. She is deeply, deeply offended that this fucking guy has brainwashed half the island, that he would strip people of their liberties.

I think people forget. How Zeus and Doom were defeated. Hope didn’t just waltz up there, punch em once, and boom. Done. No, the Loopers beat Zeus and Doom. It was an island-wide effort, spurred on by Hope. She is a leader, that is her role in the story. (also; the Greek God’s powers in fortnite are very ill-defined, considering the Society fought against Zeus directly and lived seemingly unharmed. So.)

People also say Hope has no flaws. And that’s just. Wrong. Granted, her most apparent flaw isn’t clear until Season 4, but it’s Impostor Syndrome. There’s a big difference between being a rebel leader, and being the Prophesied Hero of Fate, granted powers by Pandora and the fucking Oracle of Delphi, and that really gets to her! That’s her arc across the entire season is dealing with this feeling of not being Good Enough to be the hero the island needs. But in the end, she’s able to do what she does best and be a light bright enough to rally the entire island together to fight and defeat Doom.

I get not liking characters, but honestly. a lotta the hate for Hope comes off as just kinda baseless to me. I don’t want to pull the misogyny card against individuals and i’m not going to but i do believe that she would have been received far better if she was a man. Maybe im just a little bit too invested in this storyline but. eh.

[twilightmalachite]

Animage June 2024 Issue: Interviews with the New Face Idols!

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofreader: 310mc

Esu Sagiri

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. "Resilient!" perhaps? No matter the adversity, I keep moving straight towards my goal! A skill acquired from my adventures around the world, maybe? Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Definitely has to be "The adventure begins", isn't that riiiiight! I gotta say it else the adventure won’t begin! ☆ Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. My favorite motto is “There’s no time like the present”! You feel way more alive when you actually do the thing rather than think, right!? Yeah, I’m sure of it! Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Lately, I’ve been super into making my own mixes of drinks at the drink bar to make new exciting flavors!!! Well, it fails more often than not, though! Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. Ah~, that he has somewhat of a dazzling aura, like an idol? Something like that? Maybe? But well, when I talked to him, I feel like he was much more like a normal person than I thought! Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Ease of movement comes first! I keep up on social media to see the latest trends too, but I’d like to ask everyone to see what kind of clothes you think look good on me! Tell me what you think! Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. Ah~, well, I was kinda on a vacation for a very long time already? But, I wanna go on BIG adventures like sailing a grand voyage on a yacht, conquering the five continents, or exploring the depths of the ocean in a submarine! Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. 4piece begins at last! I don’t have a clue what will happen in the slightest, but I, the symbol of energy Sagiri Esu, will do my very best! I hope for your support I am a man able to show his true spirit when the time calls for it…! Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. This was my first time being interviewed as an idol! Did you get to learn about me a little bit? Hehe, I’m looking forward to seeing you all on stage soon! I’d be happy if you could support me loads!!!

Ibuki Taki

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. Hmmm, I’m often told that I‘m “easygoing” and do things at my own pace”~? ‘Cause I don’t worry about the details and just do what I want~ Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Nyahaha, nothing really comes to mind~? I feel maybe I’m often saying “I’ll sue you~” a lot, but that might just come from my American upbringing~? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. “Tomorrow will take care of itself”~.[1] Rather than worrying about the future, I let what happens happen and deal with things as they come~♪ Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. I’ve started studying composition lately~. I started out with making a simple song that I can sing while playing the guitar, and I’d like to be able to show it off it somewhere eventually~♪ Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. When he first came up to me, I thought he was someone suspicious and nearly fought him off~. Nyahahaha, well, he’s a lively and bright person~? Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Hmm… Well I choose based off of intuition~? I’m not all that interested in fashion, so honestly, I don’t really care ‘bout what I wear~, yeah~? Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. I’d like to spend my time taking it slow and easy, wandering around town, relaxing by the seaside, and such~♪ Soak up some sunlight, enjoy a nice steak... Nyahaha, now I feel like taking some time off~! Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. Well, 4piece is an audition shrouded in mystery~? I was invited all the way here from America, though, so now that I’m here, I’m gonna make sure to leave my claw marks in the soil~! Don’t underestimate my ability, m’kay~? Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. My name is Taki Ibuki! Born in Okinawa, raised in America~♪ I’ll prove you my worth, so keep your eyes on me, okay~! Nyahaha, if you support me, something good might happen, you know~?

Kanna Natsu

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. Hmm, perhaps it would be “bother-free”.[2] I can typically resolve things if I use my head, but it gets bothersome to spend effort on things of negligible importance. Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. “What a bother”. —Ahh, I’m not saying that this is a bothersome question to answer, just that it is likely something I often say. Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. “Be self-reliant”… Maybe. It is troublesome to rely on others. I wish to think for myself and act accordingly to my own beliefs. Q4. What's your latest craze? A4.  There’s been a craze for developing new community tools recently. Set phrases like “So true” and “You know it”... They are fixed phrases anyone can use to communicate with each other. Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. In one word, it would be “flashy”, perhaps. I was a little surprised when we first met, since he kept on talking without any consideration of me. Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. I select them based on functionality and fabric durability. And for the design as simple and unobtrusive as possible, so as to avoid attracting any attention. Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. I would like to immerse myself in research. I have an idea that I have been building for quite a long time, so I would like to give it a form and create a new invention. The nature of this invention is still a secret. Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. I am still an ignorant, inexperienced child. I hope that through 4piece, I will be able to thoroughly determine the path I am to take as an idol, and achieve results that exceed expectations. Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. Nice to meet you, my name is Natsu Kanna. Some of you might already know of me, but do please watch over me and see what kind of idol I will become in the future. I promise that you will not be disappointed; I am up to this challenge.

Fuyume Hanamura

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. Yume’s personality is difficult to express in one word. “Cute”, “devoted”, “kind”, “dedicated”… No matter how hard Yume thinks, Yume can’t pick just one…♪ Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Yume doesn’t particularly have any catchphrases. If anyone notices Yume has a catchphrase, could you please let Yume know? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. Yume’s favorite motto is “have both the looks and the substance”… Yume wishes to become someone who not only appears outstanding, but is outstanding on the inside too. There are still things that are difficult for Yume, but Yume is doing Yume’s best♪ Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Yume’s been super into the anime that is dominating this season. The heroine’s outfit is so cute, so Yume’s currently going around lots of craft stores so Yume can make a cosplay that recreates it perfectly. Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. That he was tall and cool, but not Yume’s type. But, he’s a good person, isn’t he? Yume can introduce you to him…♪ Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Yume uses trial and error to find a match for Yume’s personal style and body type. All the clothes Yume wears were made by Yume, so they are custom made and the only to exist in the world! Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. Yume would like to spend Yume’s time with Esu♪ Go to a new cafe and eat cake, or go watch a movie... Yume hasn't had much of a chance to go together with him lately, so Yume’s a little lonely. Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. Ahh, 4piece, huh… Yume decided to participate so Yume could spend more time with Esu, but Yume still doesn’t really know what the program is about. But, Yume would like to show everyone Yume’s world of dreams…♪ Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. Was everyone able to learn more about Yume now? Yume would be happy if you could take Yume to a sparkling world, like a princess in a fairy tale. Everyone’s cooperation will be needed in order to achieve that, right? Thank you, for all your support...♪

Raika Hojo

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. My personality? Hmm, I’m often called “innocent”! I can’t really figure out what about me is so “innocent”, though…? Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. I’m told a lot that the stuff I say, or more like, the way I speak is a lil’ strange... But, but, I’ve always thought it was normal, huh~ huuuh~...? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. What my favorite motto is? Hmmm, I’ll go with “stealin’ is bad”! ‘Cuz I was told off about it a lot at the facility, and was told to memorize it by writin’ it over on paper. Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Eheehee, I’ve been real into “pizza-manjuu”, which I learned about recently! The fluffy dough and the gooey cheese that comes out from the bun makes me feel happy...♪ Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. Hmmm, my first impression… I’m sorry, I’m a birdbrain so I don’t remember much of anythin’…! I’ll let you know if I remember anythin’, but, he’s a kind guy who will talk to me! Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Anythin’ that’s easy to move in and feels good against the skin...♪ Maybe I should be more conscious of my clothes ‘cuz I’m gonna become an idol, but I dunno what I gotta do...! Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. I came from the countryside, but there’s someone I’ve always looked up to. And I’ve heard of somewhere where I could meet them. That’s where I’d like to go! Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. For someone like me who likes singin’, 4piece is a big event! The thought that this is my first step in becomin’ an idol is real exciting to me…♪ I’ll be makin’ every effort not to be outdone by the other competitors! Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. I never thought there'd be a day where I get to be interviewed like this! I’ll become an idol that will be recognized by everyone, and deliver many songs to you all! Please look forward to them…♪

Nice Arneb Thunder

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. “Sociable”, I’d say. I feel the dialogue you have with someone in conversation is important; it allows for the possibility to get an idea of what their personality is and what it is they keep to themselves. Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Of course, it would have to be “Nice”! Hehe, quite a nice catchphrase, isn’t it? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. “Never lose infinite hope”.[3] No matter what hardship you may face, if you give up there, nothing will remain. I wish to cherish the “hope” that is within me. Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Hm, lately, or rather for the past couple years, my craze has been rice curry! A balance of spices, with a little secret ingredient… Just a little ingenuity reveals the chef’s thinking. Sometimes I cook it for myself, too♪ Q5. What do you expect from these five idols? A5. These are promising new faces I’ve encountered in all sorts of places! I invited them to participate in 4piece because of something nice and sparkly I saw within them, and I greatly look forward to seeing what kind of brilliance they will show us! Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Oh yes, I make sure to consider time, place, and occasion to dress appropriately for work and my private life. My suit for the program? Ahh, very nice, isn’t it? I aimed to make an impact with it. Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. Unfortunately, I haven’t taken a long vacation for quite a while… I suppose it would be nice to watch a live as an ordinary fan once in a while. Do you have any recommendations for live shows to go to? Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. This unprecedented audition is being held at long last! As the chief executive, I vow to draw out the brilliance of these idols and show you a world you have never seen before! Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. Hehe, nice to meet you. This is Nice Arneb Thunder! I’m sure many of you kids are anticipating what kind of program 4piece will be! Let us follow the lives of these idols and witness their brilliance, together! I look forward to spending time with you all!

Translation Notes:

This saying in Japanese is "明日()は明日()の風()が吹()く", "tomorrow, the winds of tomorrow will blow", which includes a kanji from his first name, 維吹 (Ibuki).

The word he uses here is 面倒くさがり, which more accurately means "someone who tends to find things bothersome", but I tried to make it into a single word to fit with the question prompt.

This is actually part of a quote by Martin Luther King Jr., "We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."

[crushedsweets]

i was listening to twin size mattress by the front bottoms and was like. hmm this is the most toby song ever

SO i was wondering do u have any songs that remind you of specific creeps? could be from lyrics or just general vibes yk yk

- 🌙 anon (im new here hi)

HII welcome. ok ok. so i listen to music in a very boring way and never analyze lyrics/artists/albums/etc. but for you i will try to change.

also these lryics with toby oh wow.. wow. ok. wowwww. wow. ok. wow. STUFF UNDER THE CUT BUT KNOW IM DEEPLY WARPING THE ACTUAL MEANING BEHIND A LOT OF THESE SONGS LOL. i religiously listen to love songs so its hard

toby and honey by coastal club. (my fave song rn..)

whether its from his perspective or not.. it doesnt even have to be romantic either. just his friendships with everyone around him, both from people like tim and brian seeing this SEVERELY TROUBLED kid. . . 'wide eyed..dying to get outside' feels very :((( yk. he was a kid trapped in a fucking horrifying situation all his life. or him looking at his friendship with nina. "youve got a way with me... alive and so full of life, i'm mesmerized by your love" etc. maybe jack or clockwork with the "i started laughing at the words you spoke, i kinda like you and your stupid jokes"... AGAIN I KNOW ITS A LOVE SONG but i see it applying in so many different forms of love. and i love love. also a ton of like, car and driving references which is um. lyra reference sorry

nina x clockwork and "a big brown dog named bagel" by nep

ok this doesnt apply so much to my au(nobody is canon in mine but yk)... buttttttt... yeah. ugh. this is so nina @ nat. sorry guys ive been changed. one ask always diverts my attention at the speed of light. "I like the way she bites, the way she talks, the way she looks when I smile" is just SO FUCKING NINA ADORING NAT. nina just wants to be in the most fairytale coming of age movie ya novel lovestory and she says that her biggest dream in life is to get married. she wants to take care of her lover and give and give and give so fucking much and "I'll buy you a big old house on a big old hill And I'll grow old with my baby, 'til she's dead" is so very her. of course i chose clockwork cuz 'she's tall in the knees' and 'some green in her eyes' plus im a lesbian and havent fawned over sapphic relationships in months since i began my creepypasta return. LOL

eyeless jack and "downhill" by lincoln

there r few words to describe the amount of guilt, horror, and devastation that jack feels after what he's done, all he's lost, and what he has to do to survive. he has a year of his life that he was literally possessed by a demon and went around fucking tearing humans apart and eating their remains. even as he's """recovering""" and settling into a cabin, his friendships with the creeps, trying to just feel okay. he's on his last leg, he can tell that people know he's a shell of what he was but they'll never know how warm, kind, inviting he used to be. "i went downhill at such a steep inline" ... yea he did his life changed immeasurably in a single night and it's never coming back. the lyrics "'Cause I was born into the world on a silken cloud / And I got bored of the world before I hit the ground" ... while he had a ton of pressure. he loved his life, loved his family, was the type to constantly express how grateful he was for everything that got him where he was. and then he hit rock fucking bottom because he wanted to chase a little excitement with the pretty girl inviting him to join a 'club.' poor guy

liu and "i'm not angry anymore" by paramore

i dont think i need to explain this because um..... lols... liu just wants to fucking move on. he just wants to escape everything. he wants his family back, including the little brother he'd play catch with in the front yard for so many years. but he has his moments where it all comes barreling back, and he makes real fucking brash decisions - he lost his marriage because he spiraled trying to find jeff and moved to fucking alabama. so you know.

jane and "everest" by beabadoobee

again, i dont think i need to explain this. maybe this could be mary(jane's wife) singing to jane, cuz she was one of janes main supports after her parents death. jane can only act strong for so long but she is so so so fucking sad and mourning and she was always so soft and gentle and sweet and she lost everything in a single night. she spent a short period of time filled with rage, as she would be, but her story eventually evolves into her just wanting to help others with their cases, be happy with her wife, take care of sally, grow old, make her parents proud. she's climbed mountains and is probably in the best place of all the creeps. holds her. i dont touch her character too often because i just want her to settle happily lolz..

ok thats all i got guys :3.. thank youuuuu thank youuu. sorry if my music taste is bad guys. LOL.

[chickenkurage]

(almost sent this ask to the wrong person lmao)

anyways I've been thinking again about teen!cs!Alan and the other sticks not believing him about 06 at first because they think it's his imaginary friend because its backstory is hard to believe. They think it's Alan's oc he made to cope basically.

"Your 'friend' that we can't see because it lives in your head was created in a lab to be a weapon and escaped due to not wanting to hurt anybody and didn't object to your appearance because it was lonely? Sounds like a Mary Sue ngl uh yeah okay we totally believe you"

Then Alan and 06 go on thinking that the others are being honest about believing them. 06 is still too nervous to say hi, but is working up the courage. Then the reveal happens and 06's confidence is shattered for a bit and Alan runs from the PC after feeling hurt by the betrayal.

Then Vic learns about 06 being real because of being contacted by Annex Corp and sends a message to the PC to warn the others to keep Alan out of the outernet. Worst timing ever and now everyone's in a panic.

I'm sorry for the late reply :(( I think our tumblr is acting up again with your ask getting lost in the inbox (but thankfully it reappeared UwU)

06 being brushed off as like some sort of OC made by a kid honestly isn't a big surprise considering an artist making an OC?? WHAT A BIG SURPRISE??? (I feel called out here lol)

I like how we're making jokes here of how mary sue 06 is cause like it lowkey is one XDD Like super rad backstory? Check! Awesome super powers? Check! No weakness? Hmm... A hesitant check? Physically just strong but mentally a child... cause it is one

But on the side of the other sticks, like concluding that lil Alan over here just made an imaginary friend after being stuck in the PC after he prolly died would make sense cause there's no way someone is an IRL mary sue, right??? Thinking that Alan did all that to cope isn't all too far fetched.

Seeing a kid just appear in your world, leaving all their loved ones behind that's basically irreplaceable to them, you're going to think 'I think that kid's feeling lonely. So I should just go along with this imaginary friend thing.'

But still it hurts, on Alan's side, to find out that they didn't actually believe in the fact that your friend is real, and on 06's side, cause okay, sure it doesn't show itself to them but it felt like its existence was invalidated! Or something like that?

Huh, it makes me think if 06 would know that its code came from Alan's files so that's why they like, get along well or act the same in some instances? With a hint of that nature vs nurture debate though to make up for the differences in their personality :PP

Still, it was a good move for Alan to just say that 06 exists out loud to them since it kinda acted as something like a forewarning that the runaway weapon Sable was describing (which in the og cs universe, Vic thought was 06 pretending to be Alan but was in fact Alan) was not someone pretending to be Alan. It was Alan himself that's been talking to them and the imaginary friend was 06! Like... NAISUU??

But of course it (probably) didn't stop the inevitable kidnapping of the child... Still a good thing that Alan wasn't offered to the government, huh? That would've made things worse or something! - JM

[a-lonely-dunedain]

1, 3, 4, 8, 23, 30, and/or 33 for Margim and Celeair, if any of these tickle your fancy?

ooh ok! that's a lot lol, but these look fun!

1."are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?"

oh I color code most of my characters! once they've been around long enough they all usually get assigned one. Margim is burgundy and Celeair is silvery blue, I tend to draw them with outfits heavily featuring their respective colors.

3. "weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?"

Margim's weapon is a spiked mace, suited to brutal attacks that kill quickly and messily. She didn't exactly choose it, but it was the only thing available to her in Thorzhaf so she just had to get good at killing with it. Really good at killing with it. Celeair has no weapon, as he's a pacifist with no combat skills. As a loremaster he occasionally requires a staff, but only rarely as he doesn't need it for healing (which is most of what he does), so he doesn't usually carry one with him unless to use as a walking stick.

4. "how crafty/resourceful are they?"

as far as fighting is concerned, Margim is used to doing battle in a controlled environment, the same bridge in the same setting day in and day out, so fighting elsewhere might have taken her a little getting used to. As such she's still getting the hang of using her environment to her advantage, as she tends to fall into the habit of seeing her foe through a kind of tunnel vision and not focusing on much else. She has a very blunt and uncomplicated approach to problem solving, usually being "hit it with a mace til it stops being a problem, and if that doesn't work, ask Celeair what to do."

Now I would say Celeair is very resourceful! Between the two of them, he's usually the one with ideas (though he always values Margim's input whenever she gives it). Very 'think on his feet' kinda guy rather than 'plan every part in advance' so he's pretty adaptable even when things go awry.

8. "do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?"

well I know Margim is sometimes shortened to Mar by Elain, but there's not really much meaning behind it besides "we're friends and I shorten my friends names :>" (Margim certainly prefers it over any title she earned in Thorzhaf)

Celeair is sometimes called Cel (pronounced "Kel" bc this is still a Sindarin C) by his brother. I also feel like Elain would have a sort of nickname for him that isn't derived from his real name, maybe something that started out as a joke but kinda stuck, but nothing has jumped out at me yet.

23. "how would you describe their voice? can they sing?"

Celeair's voice is clear and gentle, and I think he can sing rather well! Margim's voice is quiet, low and almost rumbling at times. It can be a bit husky as well due to how little she speaks. I don't think she's ever tried to sing.

30. "do they smell like anything notable?"

hmm, I never gave much thought to how they would smell. I suppose Celeair would smell pretty strongly of medicinal herbs, but the exact composition can vary depending on what he's been working with. It'd range anywhere from the sweet and fresh (almost minty) smell of Athelas to bright fir needles and pungent poultices. The man basically smells like a walking herb store, which I guess makes sense considering he spends most of his time in such places.

As for Margim, first thing that came to mind was that she smells vaguely smokey? Can't think of a logical reason she would smell that way, at least post-Mordor, besides just *gestures vaguely* vibes™. Maybe smokey and spicy? (some of Celeair's herb smells rubbed off on her. from all the cuddling <3)

33. "if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them."

well considering Bitter Ash is written from both Celeair and Margim's PoVs, we kinda already know how they'd describe one another, so let's see what my other guys have to say about them! (they have at least met once after all)

Ethedis: likes Celeair a lot, sees him as a very capable healer with an agreeable demeanor. Instantly clocks that this dude has MAXED out his charisma stat, as it wouldn't be easy for just any Gondorian to be welcomed into Dunlanding village like this, and that he's much wiser than his easygoing exterior first lets on. Thinks he would be unstoppable if he honed his offensive Loremaster skills, but understands that hurting anyone would be against his principles. She wishes she could have gotten by on the same path, but the world demanded different things from them.

She was initially wary of Margim, as most people are upon first meeting her, but seeing the genuine trust Celeair has for Margim put her at ease somewhat. She's actually not intimidated by her at all (though she might have been if they met earlier), and is heartened to find such an unexpected and powerful ally. She's difficult for even Ethedis to read, but she got the impression that Margim holds a lot of pain in her past and that Mordor is to blame for it. She'll be the last person in Dunland they need to worry about falling under the sway of the Enemy.

Tossdir: was very wary of Margim upon first meeting and was slower to trust her than Ethedis was, mostly due to past experience with a certain Man of Mordor (*cough* Mordrambor *cough*) messing with his head that one time. I think once he's certain she's on their side and hates the forces of Mordor as much as they do, he would see her as the archetypal 'shady loner with a mysterious past' but he can tell she cares a great deal for the people of the Stag-Clan, and for this random Gondorian who's here too for some reason (he does NOT clock that they are madly in love. so oblivious it's almost embarrassing). He's curious about her past, but understands she wouldn't take kindly to him trying to pry into it, so he keeps a respectable distance. Even if they aren't friends, she's still a foe of Mordor and Isengard, and that at least, makes them allies. Still kinda wishes he knew what her whole deal was...

Speaking of Celeair, I honestly think Tossdir was too distracted by Margim to pay much mind to him in the short time they spent in Trum Dreng lmao. He's a bit odd, like Ethedis in some ways, but seemed like a nice enough guy. Tossdir couldn't say much more about him than that tho.