#and make himself appear as a better candidate when he eventually was the one to miraculously 'stop' Aro during one of his rages

[soulsxng]

🎥 Aro

@arcxnumvitae | 🎥

"Were you trying to escape me? What a deluded mutt...and here I had thought I finally taken all the fight out of you, with how obedient you'd been the past few months. Well. I suppose that's to be expected, when you're dealing with a stupid beast, they're bound to forget their training if they're given the opportunity. And you even went and stole my God Seal, hmm? After I told you that you didn't need it anymore, too...how nice it was of my assistant to return it to me."

The words echoed in the god's mind. Some hazy nightmare brought about by the fever, no doubt...though Darrow didn't remember falling asleep. So maybe it was a delusion. He didn't know, anymore.

Either way, when he opened his eyes, his vision swam. Even though he knew he was laying down, it felt for a few long moments, like he was falling. He didn't dare to attempt sitting-- he already knew the result that would come of it.

"Ah-ah, I'm not finished with you, yet. Did you think I would really dismiss you after such an act, without punishment? No, of course not. Now, kneel."

"Mnh..." Everything hurt. He felt weak. His body freezing and burning up all at the same time.

When he turned his head a bit, he could just barely make out the discolored that spread from the wound on his back and hip. An ugly hue, made manifest by the infection that was no doubt coursing through him.

He felt like he needed to throw up, but by this point, he doubted even bile would come up.

"They really weren't kidding about this sword of yours, were they? Hah! Perhaps I should keep this, as well. After all, a feral beast like you should be able to fight just fine with fang and claw."

How long had he been laying here? It felt like forever.

Maybe Irazor knew, somehow, that the deity he'd captured had a back-up plan, in the event that the escape that led to his being in this position failed. Of course, Aro had planned to do it another way, but...

Agonizing as this was, it was likely to work better than the old plan.

"...Hm? My. Looks like I may have gone a bit overboard. Can't get up? Pitiful...you two! Make yourselves useful, and bring my little pet back to his cage, before he bloodies my floor any further."

It took time to get to this point. But...after cutting off his connection to his God Seal nearly in its entirety, he may as well have been a simple kitsune, again. A being that needed to eat, and drink. A being that could get sick, and easily die from a wound as grievous as this.

Irazor wouldn't want to risk losing the Inari as a tool, so he would eventually have no choice but to call a healer. And there were only so many who had the ability to heal a god that was so far gone. Fewer still who wouldn't sell him out for having entrapped a deity, like this.

And the closest to this place in particular, happened to be none other than...

"Darrow? Darrow! There you are, you stubborn fox-- oh, look at the state of you...! Don't you bare your teeth at me now, I'm going to help, but we need to be quick! Irazor's men will find him any moment, and I have no doubt that they'll come straight this way, once they do."

A small, rough hand presses briefly to his cheek, and though he nearly bites at it, the familiarity of the voice stops all but the weak snarl that rumbles in his throat. A snarl that quickly turns into a small whine when his vision settles enough for him to make out the form of the faerie witch who was knelt beside him.

Something was pressed into his hand, and even in his severely addled state, the thrum of power that immediately reverberated through him made it clear that it was none other than his God Seal.

Between that, and the sudden (and painful, though if he made any noise to indicate such, she didn't comment) burst of healing magic forced through his body, Aro at last felt some semblance of awareness returning to him. He still wasn't able to move much, but it was something. At that very least, he could return to his fox form, to allow himself to be cautiously lifted into the sling pouch the witch had carried him in countless times before.

'Clio...'

If she hadn't immediately looked down at him, he would have worried that he didn't have the energy to communicate with her in this form. Even if it was an extremely limited form of telepathy, it still felt like it was taking a lot out of him with even that one word.

"What is it, dear? You should be saving your--"

'...I feel disgusting. I want to take a bath when we get home.'

Obviously that was not the right thing to say, at this moment, because all Clio did was give a near growl of "Oh! Mischievous little...! And here I had worried myself sick over you! No more yapping out of you; rest!" Before buttoning the pouch shut.

Maybe that was for the best, though. This way, she wouldn't be able to see the way he trembled. Ignoring the way his body was further wracked with pain, when he wiggled around to press as close to her warmth and familiar scent, as he could manage.

'...Thank you, Clio...'

[tyrantisterror]

Who's THE Devil?

You know, from, like, The Bible?

One of the things the various takes on Hell more or less agree on is that there is one demon among the legions of Hell who more or less reigns supreme - The Devil with a capital The. What they rarely agree on, however, is which devil that is. So, for funsies, let's look at all the candidates for The Devil, shall we?

Belial

The concept of demons arguably predates Abrahamic religions, at least if we take it at its most nebulous definition of "supernatural people from an Other world who are somewhat antagonistic toward humanity." But the more specific and probably more familiar version of them began with The Book of Enoch, one of many texts that were deemed non-canonical by Christians yet still holds a great deal of influence on Christianity as a whole. It's an extended account of the Noah story, positing that a group of angels rebelled against heaven because they wanted to sleep with mortal women, and created a race of giant half-human half-angel offspring called the Nephilim (Goliath, of David and Goliath fame, was one of the nephilim). God wasn't happy with this, and sent the rebel angels to a fiery pit before killing most of the nephilim with the big ol' flood (though Goliath's lineage survived somehow I guess).

It's not quite how most people picture the War in Heaven and rebellion of the angels, but it's nonetheless where that story started, and that makes it important. This is the first take on what would become the classic origin story for demons and Hell itself. And who is the leader of the rebel angels in this story? Why our good friend Belial, of course. Belial would remain a prominent demon from hereafter, but despite having the earliest claim for the crown of The Devil, Belial has not remained the frontrunner in the race, and is generally demoted to just being a high ranking demon, rather than the Highest ranking one.

2. Beelzebub

I've talked about Beelzebub before and I don't want to spend too much time rehashing that post, so brief recap: Beelzebub began as a mean nickname for a god from a rival religion to Judaism who was named Baal Zebul, which means Lord of the Heavenly Place. Baal Zebub, by contrast, means "Lord of the Flies." Eventually Baalzebub becomes Beelzebub and, divorced from the original context of its creation, becomes a character in his own right, being a prominent demon. And because Beelzebub appeared in a lot of texts, many of them very old as demonology go, he became a major competitor for the title of The Devil, and remains so to this day. I think it's partly because the name "Beelzebub" is really fun to say, but the sheer history and volume of demonology texts portraying him as a big, powerful devil also help. In the rare stories where Beelzebub appears but does not get to be The Devil, he's still portrayed as fairly high ranking, with both Milton's Paradise Lost and Marlowe's Faust making him The Devil's right hand demon, second in command of Hell. So even when he loses the crown, Beelzebub takes home a good silver medal

3. Asmodeus

Asmodeus is another of our "predates Christianity" demons, right up there with Beelzebub and Belial, and as far as I can tell from what I've read he was originally intended to be The Devil rather than just a devil. It's kind of right there in the name - "deus" means god, so Asmodeus having that name marks him as a demon who thinks himself equal to God.

(well, ok, there's some debate about the full origin of his name, with some arguing the "deus" part was originally a play on "deva," which in turn is loosely translated as... demon. The fact that Asmodeus's name is pronounced/spelled differently to a preposterous degree is part of why the water is so muddy - Asmoday, Asmodai, Asmodee, Osmodeus, it goes on and on)

One of his better claims to the crown comes from the story of Solomon - you know, the wise king who told people to cut babies in half. Solomon's less canonical feats include enslaving a shitload of demons to build a temple for him by way of the rite of exorcism, using a magic ring and the power of Christ to compel the damned to do manual labor for him. Asmodeus is specifically stated to be the strongest demon he summons in part because he is the King of all Demons, i.e. The Devil - and the other demons weep at the sight of their king being reduced to a slave by mortal hands.

Why is this a strong claim? Because the story of Solomon in turn inspired The Lesser Key of Solomon, a text about using the rite of exorcism to summon and use demons to do your bidding. The Lesser Key of Solomon includes the Ars Goetia, which is basically a big ol' bestiary of demons, and where many of your favorite pop culture demons - like, say, Stolas the owl guy - come from. Being the King of all demons in the story that inspired one of the more thorough and exhaustive lists of demons and their hierarchies should count for a lot.

There's one other great claim to fame Asmodeus has in his favor. While not directly named in Dante's The Divine Comedy, the description Dante gives of Satan's physical appearance matches with the most popular descriptions of Asmodeus - in particular, his three heads, one of which is yellow, one red, and one black. Granted, it'd be more of a smoking gun if one of those heads was a bull and the other a goat, but they're all very ogre-like, so I still think it stands. Dante's Devil is, more likely than not, Asmodeus, and that's a BIG point in Asmodeus's favor.

4. Hades/Pluto

Ok, so, a great deal of the Old Testament was originally written in Greek, and the New Testament was written in Latin, both of which happened when belief in the Olympian Gods was pretty strong. As such, the word "Hades" appears in the Bible a lot when talking about the place where dead people go, though it probably wasn't meant to literally be the same underworld as that in Greco-Roman mythology. Probably.

But because Christianity was spread primarily by the Roman empire once they converted to Christianity, and because Europe ended up getting a centuries-long case of stockholm syndrome for the Roman Empire that involved many people in power declaring that Greco-Roman mythology was super important literature and Latin was the language of God Himself, there is a good chunk of Biblical apocrypha that treats the use of Hades as, well, a literal crossover of sorts. Which is to say that Hades the god is sometimes treated as, like, a figure in Christianity, generally a demon specifically. And because he's, you know, Hades, from, like, The Odyssey, people feel he needs to be prominent. I mean, Hades RULED the underworld in Greek mythology, so if we're stealing him for Christian folklore, he should at least be in upper management, right?

The strongest case for Hades being The Devil comes from The Book of Revelation, one of the few books in the Bible that actually contributes to demonology (despite what people tell you, demons really don't show up in the Bible that much - most of what we think of as iconic demon lore come from non-canonical works). You know the four horsemen of the apocalypse? War, Famine, Plague, and Death, right? HA, WRONG! It's Conquest, War, Famine, and Pestilence & Death, you fake horseman fan. Well, anyway the line that introduces Death/Pestilence & Death ends with "And Hell followed with him." Except, no, not really, because the specific word used is... Hades. "And Hades followed with him." Which, depending on how you want to interpret the line, could very well mean a literal, King of the Underworld Hades.

Of course, the problem with using Revelation as proof is that Revelation itself is pretty unclear on who's leading the forces of evil. Is it the Seven-Headed dragon who's cast out of Heaven at the beginning of the end of the world? Is it the seven headed leopard monster that the dragon gives his crown to? Is it the monster who crawls out of the ground to speak for the seven-headed leopard with the voice of a dragon? Is it Hades? Is it God, the one who's allowing all this violent shit to happen and frequently sending his angels to make it way fucking worse? Who can say.

So, while it's not super common, there are more than a few works where The Devil is none other than Hades himself. Disney... might not have been completely off the mark, I guess?

While I think Hades's claim is pretty weak, I should note that one of the works that puts a LOT of Greek mythology into Hell is none other than Dante's The Divine Comedy. 70% of the demons in Dante's Hell are just Greek monsters, with the remaining few being Asmodeus and some OC demons he made up with portmanteu names a la Pokemon. Notably, Hades is one of those demonized Greek figures - presented as the Judge who decides where in Hell sinners end up based on their crimes. He's not The Devil, though, so while Dante kind of helps Hades's case, he also kind of ends up making a counter argument to it.

5. Abaddon/Apollyon

Ok, so, the word "abaddon" is used in some texts to refer to Hell, and sometimes it's personified as well. It literally means "ruin." Well, in time, Abaddon is personified and become a demon, which should feel like a familiar story to you by this point. And because Abaddon can also literally be Hell itself, it's only natural that some stories posit Abaddon the demon as the rule of Hell, much as Hades is the ruler of Hades in Greek mythology. This is Abaddon's big claim, and it's not bad, but it's not super strong. Nonetheless, it was enough for at least one prominent Christian text, Pilgrim's Progress, to make Abaddon (under one of his synonym names, Apollyon) to be The Devil, so we can give him that too.

6. Sheol

The sections of the Bible that are written in Hebrew use the word "Sheol" to refer to the underworld/afterlife rather than Hades. Now, Judaism doesn't have the same Hell as Christianity, or the same concept of Heaven either for that matter, and Sheol is less a place of torment for the damned and more of a waiting room for the dead to hang out in until the Messiah comes.

Nonetheless, Sheol did get personified like Abaddon and Hades, and that personification (which, in some versions, is a batty old lady, which is fun) later became a demon in its own right, and thus, for the same reasons as Abaddon and Hades, has a claim to being The Devil by dint of also being, you know, Hell itself. Not the strongest, most popular claim, no, but a claim nonetheless.

7. Satan

Feels rather obvious, doesn't it? Ok, so, in The Bible, one of the characters who was retconned into being The Devil is the angel in the Book of Job who takes on the title of Satan. In the original context of the story, "Satan" is not a name, but, again, a title - a job title, really, roughly akin to "prosecuting attorney." The Satan in the Book of Job isn't a rebel angel, but an angel whose job is to argue for the opposing view point to make sure everyone is doing the right thing. Less "The Devil" and more "the devil's advocate."

But! Christians fucking LOVE the devil, and they want more devil in their Bible, so many translations treat (the) Satan not as the hard-working servant of God he was originally written as, but as, you know, The Devil, arch-enemy of God and justice. And so Satan becomes synonymous with The Devil, and over time more and more appearances of The Devil give him the name Satan.

I can see an argument for this being the strongest claim, because the sheer amount of works where "Satan" is treated as The name of The Devil is enormous. But I think it's important to note that many of those works actually treat it as a name for the devil, which is to say, not the only name. I guess a lot of modern works think the name is so commonly used that it lacks its punch, and so they have The Devil pull the "I have many names" schtick to sound more imposing.

8. Lucifer

So there's a part of the Bible that talks about a star falling out of Heaven as a sort of metaphor for how people can fall from grace. Well, good ol' King James translated this as not just a falling star, but specifically The Devil himself, giving him the name Lucifer, which means "light-bringer." The King James translation of the Bible is bad in that it's immensely inaccurate, but good in that it's a beautiful piece of poetry in its own right, and since it had the authority of a goddamn king behind it, it quickly became a prominent Christian text and is still the preferred translation of many Christian sects to this day.

So, you know, that's pretty fucking big as claims go. There is one incredibly prominent (if woefully inaccurate) translation of the Bible where Lucifer is The Devil. Kind of hard to fight that one.

But it doesn't end there! I would argue that the most influential origin story for Christian devils, the one that has become ingrained in the cultural consciousness as THE story of the War in Heaven, is Milton's poem Paradise Lost. That's where most of the tropes we associate with The Devil and demons and Hell really come together to form the great devil mythology - well, it and Dante's The Divine Comedy, anyway. You know which name Milton chose for The Devil?

Lucifer.

Well, ok, he also calls Lucifer "Satan" with about equal frequency, but still - Lucifer is The Devil of Paradise Lost. And because of the sheer weight that both Paradise Lost and the King James Bible have in culture, Lucifer has ended up being used as The Devil in countless works since! Not bad for a translation error, right?

While the sheer number and notability of literature that uses Lucifer as The Devil is kind of argument enough for him having the best claim, I'd like to add one more argument in his favor: dramatic irony. I think what draws people to Lucifer is the meaning of his name - "the light-bringer" - and how it contrasts with his role as the king of a pit of darkness and misery. "Light-bringer" is a heroic name, the name of a character who brings hope and joy, which makes it so delicious when it turns out our "light-bringer" is an utter bastard. It's just irresistible, isn't it?

9. Mephistopheles

A good number of demon stories - arguably the majority of them - focus on mortals who make deals with demons and end up damned to Hell for doing it. We call these stories "faustian pacts," and we do that because the most famous story of this kind is the story of Faust, a scientist/alchemist who makes a deal with a devil named Mephistopheles to learn the secrets of the universe and ends up doing a lot of sinning in the process. Since Faust is such a famous and influential story, it only follows that its main devil is frequently viewed as The Devil.

...except

In most versions of Faust, Mephistopheles is not presented as The Devil within the narrative. He's a henchman, a flunkie, with one of the bigger names like Lucifer or Beelzebub pulling the strings. So while there are a number of stories (including a few versions of Faust itself) where Mephistopheles gets to be The Devil, it's far more common for him to be a devil - perhaps a prominent devil, maybe even one of the strongest and a close member of The Devil's inner circle, but rarely the one in charge.

10. Baphomet

Baphomet is a god whose name and appearance was repurposed as a demon by The Church of Satan, and so while I have to admit that is a claim to the crown, I don't think it's a great one. First, nothing about the Church of Satan's belief system is meant to be taken genuinely, with them admitting that they view Satan/Baphomet as a symbol rather than a literal supernatural being they believe in. Second, by rights Baphomet should be allowed to be Baphomet instead of being literally demonized. I honestly think it's better for Baphomet to lose this race than to win it.

11. Iblis

Demons in Islam work differently from demons in Christianity. Rather than being fallen angels, demons are wicked Djinn - a race of people made from fire and smoke rather than ash and dirt like humans. Djinn aren't quite as powerful as angels in Islam, but do have significant supernatural powers that humans lack. Like humans, Djinn have free will and can choose whether to be good or evil - and those that choose to be evil reside in Islam's version of Hell, where they are ruled by Iblis, the first Djinn to choose the wicked path and the ruler of Islam's Hell.

Unlike Christianity, there isn't really any debate on this. Iblis is, for all intents and purposes, the CANONICAL ruler of Hell, The Devil of Islam, and thus has the strongest and really ONLY claim to be The Devil of that religion.

...but, at the same time, Iblis can't really be the Christian devil, because Christianity doesn't have Djinn, and all the iconic parts of Christian demonology kind of hinge on the idea of demons as rebel angels, which demonic djinn very much aren't. So while Iblis's claim in Islam is irefutable, he doesn't have one in Christianity. Ain't that wacky?

I think it should be noted that there are more-or-less canonical texts where Iblis isn't treated as purely evil, either, including one where he actively asks for help in repenting and is turned down because, well, evil has to exist, and someone has to rule over it, and like it or not, that's Iblis's job now. It ends with Iblis wailing that he has become the greatest martyr of Islam. Which is so fucking hardcore, I love it. In Christianity, the texts where we humanized demons are non-canonical at best and deemed heresy at worst, but Islam allowed it to be more-or-less canon. They saw the coolest takes on the Devil and said "yeah we can allow that" - so much more rad than what Christianity did with them.

~

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So, who do YOU think is The Devil? You know, from, like, The Bible?

[lightlycareless]

I saw your posts about how Naoya doesn’t want a third in his bedroom activities with Y/N and how he reacted with Naoaki. But do you think that Naoya would ever let Toji join in as a third? I can’t quite tell if he would or if that’d be even more intimidating to him since he couldn’t think how you couldn’t be super into it with Toji. It probably wouldn’t happen either way since you mentioned in one of works that Y/N is intimidated/a little scared of Toji

Hello!!

Not going to lie, I’m really happy something like this popped up in my ask hahahahah I was waiting for it!! It was inevitable, you know???

But now, going onto a more serious note—

After thinking about it and really wanting to say that Naoya wouldn’t share you even if it was Toji we’re talking about… because like, he admires Gojo but he wouldn’t allow that with him, right?

However, the admiration he has for Toji is at a completely different level compared to anyone else, and if he began to show the simplest of interests in Y/N, there’s no doubt in my mind that Naoya would try to create interactions between the tw, so they’d get to know each other, spend time, that kind of stuff.

 But does that mean he’d allow him to fuck you?

… Toji would first have to show interest in you like that in order to even be considered.

Warnings: mentions of infidelity (I’d go with dub-con at this point) mentions of pregnancy, and Toji mocking Naoya in all crude ways possible. Also, someone likes this kind of stuff a bit. (honestly this is me just wanting to write something with toji. the actual answer is on the bottom lol) SMUUUTTTT MINORS DNI.

a sequel can be found here.

It happens soon after you’re brought to the estate.

You’re the newest addition to the Zen’in clan: a bright smiled, innocent looking girl that surprisingly (not really) fell into the claws of the heir.

Toji had become accustomed to the women that caught Naoya’s interest—the type that would make anyone think “of course he likes someone like her.”

But they never lasted beyond two sightings before he was already with someone else, and certainly, no one ever thought of them as suitable candidates for marriage.

Eventually they stopped appearing all together, and for a long time, Naoya was single as he could be… until you arrived.

Someone so… different to Naoya in every sense of the word, far outside his typical interest, or malleability. Yet you managed to not only catch his attention but persuade him into marriage—and it seemed you wanted him too.

It’s safe to say that these things made Toji deeply intrigued by you—and not only because of your outstanding merits towards his seemingly unconquerable cousin, but also because on a personal level, he found you a beauty hard to ignore, much more delightful than those before you, and soon, he finds himself somehow understanding why the wimpy heir decided to marry you.

But his amazement doesn’t stop there, reaching a new high when finally meeting you, face to face, for the first time. It wasn’t just your aura, which he considered to be highly unfitting to the surrounding environment, that affected his perception, but the way you treated him as well.

Even when intimidated by his presence— just as he expected, used to it by now—you still remained amicable towards him; to the disgrace of the Zen’in, the stain in the family lineage no one even dared look at, less mention.

Not to you though. To you, he was Naoya’s cousin, his admiration, the one he sets as inspiration when it comes to strength, partaking in small talk whenever possible before retreating, but not without expressing how you’d like to see him around more often, perhaps even drink tea together one day…

Toji is completely smitten by you at this point, and the question of how you even set your eyes on Naoya, when there were so much better options, quickly settles in his mind.

But perhaps how you managed to inundate his thoughts, to the point you are all he thinks about, is the bigger question in turn.

The topic of a threesome is nothing more than a fantasy to him at that point— highly unexpected, if not impossible, and completely avoided…

That is, until tensions between you, Naoya, and Toji, become far too much to ignore.

It would start with Toji complimenting you, like the devil whispering against your husband’s ear, he’d say…

“You have a beautiful wife, Naoya.”

And your husband is somewhat elated to see that his idol approves of you, somewhat seeking his approval one way or the other.

But after his words become more cryptic, to say the least, hesitation begins to flourish in Naoya’s mind.

“Do you ever wonder she feels lonely after you leave for work? In this wide, cold manor… it’s impossible not to—I know all about it, after all.”

“… is there something you want, Toji-kun?”

Here is where the idea finally makes its appearance in your and Naoya’s conversation—offered by you, shockingly, but not because you were interested, rather, because that’s the conclusion you arrived to after hearing Naoya’s request of, in his own words…

“I want you to spend more time with Toji-kun, so he doesn’t feel… lonely.”

“It almost sounds like you want me to fuck him.”

“I never said that.”

“But you implied it.”

He remains silent.

“Naoya… do you want me… to?”

You were nothing but highly aware of his admiration towards the man. The constant proclamations of his virtues the rest of the clan failed, or didn’t care, to observe—even going as far to defend him against them when needed.

It gave you a certain happiness to know that Naoya confided in someone that way, pushed him to overcome his limits, so naturally, you’d want to do anything for the man that brought out the best side of your husband.

But you never, not even in your most bizarre dreams, expected his fascination to go to these lengths.

However, as much as you were offended by his indiscreet suggestions, a very deep part of you was also… allured by it.

There is no reason to deny the mystery that surrounded Toji—a kind of atmosphere that even though terrifying to you, you still couldn’t keep your eyes away from him, silently trailing his every move from a safe distance while earnestly wondering what a man like him could spend his time on when away from the estate.

Does he… goes to see someone? Spend the night, or weeks, in someone’s arms whenever he didn’t come back?

Or indulge in shady business as most began to suspect? As the occurring scars appearing on his arms and chest suggested?

It’s not something you’ll get to know, you dejectedly reckon, but you suppose that getting to know him, even if just for a little bit, will make the invitation to your… nightly activities, all worthwhile.

“…so that you won’t feel lonely.” Is the excuse you go with when bringing up the matter to Toji—probably the dumbest one you could’ve given him considering how he doesn’t hesitate to erupt into laughter, amused by this silly, stupid pretext of yours.

As well as infuriated, for the one thing he hated the most right after his family, was being pitied.

“I don’t want you to treat me like I’m some kind of miserable animal.” He scoffs once his glee dies. “Don’t come here, offering things you’re not even sure about, just because you want to feel good at my expense.”

Naoya and you rightfully conclude that not only had you been incredibly immature by going through with this unusual request, which wouldn’t have survived as long as it did have it been literally anyone else, but also, dented whatever little relationship the two had with him—although your concern sustained more for Naoya; you could only imagine how this strain would make him feel…

And yet, even when the foreseeable future had apparently darkened, closing windows for any kind of reconciliation thanks to his disgust towards the whole situation… something in Toji’s demeanor told you he hadn’t given up on the idea.

Whether because he saw the growing, genuine anxiety reflecting on the young couple’s face, or because he was glad his subtle actions finally paid off…

“But who am I to reject opportunities handed to me?” He adds—it’s almost undetectable, but something akin to desire flashes across his eyes. “If that’s what the heir and his lady  want, I’m nothing but your humble servant.”

You and Naoya agree on a night for everything to unfold, one that wasn’t necessarily intruding on his upcoming missions, but also fit in Toji’s schedule.

Either way, it’s safe to say that no amount of preparation could’ve done anything to ease your nerves.

Not even the constant reminder that you agreed to it, and now, had to keep your word.

The idea of inviting someone into your intimacy had always escaped your and Naoya’s minds. The reasoning behind it was simple: you did not want to do something like that in your marriage. It was almost… sacrilegious to even think about it. And Naoya agreed, too jealous to debate otherwise.

So now, that you’re here, waiting in your bedroom, just a few minutes away from those doors sliding open and welcoming that extra person in… it’s as nerve-wracking as you expected.

Almost to the point of calling it off…

But when Toji finally appears, in nothing less than a simple robe… something deep inside your conscience quickly reminds you why you were so willing to accept suggesting this offer, even when you had listed a thousand reasons not to.

You loved your husband very much, and there is no doubt in your soul that he is the love of your life, the future father of your children, the one you will spend the rest of your life with. You cannot imagine any other man in that position, none at all.

But tonight, and only for tonight… you wished to know what it felt to be touched by someone else.

By a man so intimidating, rejected by the same society that brought him onto this world, forced to be unruly, without inhibitions, just to have a chance to survive and eventually becoming nothing but shade, a monster that no one even dared to mutter his name for fear he’d come to haunt their existence—something that your husband never experienced, never had to.

Pristine, upkept, and highly controlling. That’s who Naoya was.

While Toji was like the forbidden fruit, that once the seed of curiosity was implanted in your mind, didn’t take long for you to seek after.

If you were to get one taste, if only a small one, you’ll be satisfied.

And in turn, you’d give him a chance to soil the values you represented: the untouchable wife of the heir, the woman Naoya desperately fought to obtain, the door to the next generation of Zen’in sorcerers…

All crumbling beneath the touch of someone they considered the lowest of the low, a disgrace.

This was supposed to be an affair between the three, with the obvious notion that you were to be shared amongst the two men, as equitable as possible, although with preference for Naoya.

However, Toji’s existence had always marked an exception to all rules, and your husband soon realizes that he wasn’t to be an active participant as he wished to be, and that perhaps, this was a bad idea all along…

Toji found it endearing to see how Naoya was trying to “get you in the mood” by kissing you, as if trying to cheer you up through this amoral endeavor, and do your best to please him, darling!

But the same time, it felt almost as if he were seeing a bunch of virgins discovering what sex was for the first time, which he did not have the patience for.

Feeling rather generous, Toji takes matters into his own hands by swiftly pulling you away from Naoya and forcing you to focus on him—coarse fingertips kneading and grabbing your skin as to remind you who you were doing this for in the first place—all while capturing your lips into a heated kiss that quickly takes your breath away.

“What? Don’t want this anymore?” he breathes hotly against your ear, making you squirm and whine in turn. But while his words were directed to you, his eyes are nothing but locked onto Naoya’s uneasy ones.

Your husband isn’t naïve when it comes to the teasing nature of those around him. How he believes everyone is out to get him, try to get what he has, yet failing miserably.

He’s seen it on Naoaki, how he attempts to get to him through you, teasing you, flustering you, but overall, keeping his attention on you, because after all what said and done, Naoya is still a figure of respect and he wouldn’t dare mess with him directly.

But Toji isn’t like that. He’s nothing like all he’s ever faced before. His cousin is relentless when it comes to disrespecting authority, more so when it comes to your husband. Naoya just makes it too easy.

Maybe it’s another way for him to get back at the Zen’’in. Spit on their faces and let them know that no matter how much they try to isolate him, look away whenever he crosses their paths, act like he doesn’t even exist—

A monkey like him will always find its way around them. To rattle them.

And he wants Naoya to see that.

He wants him to burn the image of his wife being ravaged by a lowlife like him—touching her, defiling her, and…

How she likes it.

“Do you see that? Do you see how well she takes me?” Toji breathes, a smirk on his lips as his eyes remain on the lewd way your cunt squeezed his cock as if struggling to hold him yet trying so hard to keep him inside.

Toji didn’t know whether to laugh at the seemingly too good to be true notion of the innocent, naïve, well liked by everyone wife of the heir throwing her hips back into him whenever he plunged his cock deep into her pussy.

At the way you’d moan whenever he abused that one spot that made you even tighter, the squelches of your greedy pussy evidently enjoying how your walls are being stretched, in ways it hadn’t as he was able to discern from Naoya’s size, or the squeals you’d gift him whenever teasing your asshole with his fingers, slapping your ass soon after, one of the many markings he’ll leave behind of this unforgettable night…

But most importantly, at the fact that Naoya was completely aroused by a man defiling his beloved wife. Because as much as he wished to place himself above it all, like he was hating the idea of sharing you, his throbbing cock and occasional rub in efforts to calm his frustration gives him away.

“Are you getting off with this, Naoya?” Toji would refer to him yet again, pace unrelenting as he subdues you beneath him. You can’t show it, but you’re glad you’re unable to see your husband’s face—it’s much too shameful to do so, if not terrifying.

But thrilling

“With the sight of your loyal wife, oh so dedicated to the heir…”

“St—Stop it To—Toj—ah!” you gasp when he pulls you by the hair, raising your face and forcing you to see Naoya, but with all the pleasure he’s giving you, you’re simply not there. “T—To—ji…!”

“And yet, here she is. Taking a monkey like me, right in front of your dear husband, like her life depended on it!”

“N—No…!” is what you manage to gasp through the brief seconds of awareness, doing your best to not show the feelings he was pushing your body through—obviously failing. “Don’t—don’t say—!”

You weren’t oblivious to this treatment.

After all, Naoya could be rough, borderline cruel, teasing, and yet…

He was nothing compared to Toji.

It’s always been like that. Even when many denied it, Toji was just on another level, and if his merits in the world of jujutsu didn’t show that, your incessant moans proved so.

“To—ji—Toji….!”

Naoya had long begun to feel as if he were watching something he shouldn’t—as if he were intruding on a couple’s intimacy, and not as if he were your husband, the partner in question…

But with the way Toji was fucking you, manhandling you into positions he wasn’t even aware he could do, less you tolerate… it’s like he was the one invited over for a threesome, and not the other way around.

“Look at her, Naoya.” He smirks, licking his lips as he continues pounding against you in the nth position that night—the one Naoya hated the most, for it forced him to take a good look at what was happening to you.

Toji had you with your legs raised, arms keeping you still and hands locked behind your head as his cocked plunged deep and viciously deeper into you, a lewd sight that Naoya couldn’t avoid due to the nature of this position.

Naoya could take any situation, perhaps even naively hoped that he would be able to withstand more of this if he didn’t get to see how Toji fucked you…  but he knew he had lost control of the situation the moment his cousin set his eyes on you, and now, couldn’t do anything but stare at the libidinous fact of his cock claiming your entrance repeatedly as you lose yourself into the pleasure.

“Look at the way her cunt takes me.”

Your husband doesn’t respond, he can’t, not when his gaze is solely focused on your blank eyes, mouth agape, drooling, while your moans reveal the overwhelming extent of pleasure he knows he’s never given you.

“She’s squeezing me so tight, it’s like she doesn’t want to let go!” Toji laughs, and really, he’s happy you don’t—this is confidently a thrill he hasn’t experienced in a long time, if ever!

It felt almost demoralizing to do such a thing, but yet, what will a man like him know about morale? Or even care after all the horrible things he’s gone through?

“Do you even fuck her right, cousin?”

He looks forward to keeping this moment in his heart till the end of his days…

If not longer, as the revelation that suddenly crosses his mind implies, the only moment that would snap you and Naoya out of trance when acknowledging this wasn’t just senseless rambles of a man drunken in pleasure, but a threat to their relationship, if not the clan.

“I can’t wait to see the look on everyone’s faces once they figure out you’re pregnant with my kid.”

“Toji, don’t—” Naoya gasps, eyes snapping to his.

“N—No, To—Toji! is what little manage to muster before Toji locks you in on place once more, as if reminding you of your position before one of his hands snakes down to tease your sensitive bud, fingers roughly squeezing and twisting it, making you moan and tense as your orgasm pushes you closer and closer the edge—a sensation Toji can delightfully feel building up in his throbbing cock as well. “Ple—please Toji!”

Please what?

Please don’t cum inside you?

Or please cum inside you?

You don’t know at that point anymore.

But not that it matters, it’s not a decision for you to make anyways, not when he continues to plunge his cock against you, deeper as he could reach, bruising your cervix, against that spot that has you seeing stars, a few more strokes, and then—

He cums.

He cums, letting out all of his warm, thick seed into your tight walls, and filling you to the brim. Deep inside your core and with an extravagant amount you couldn’t hold, managing to escape through the rim of your entrance and drip down onto the sheets, a sight Naoya could not peel his eyes away from, reinforcing the overwhelming feeling of wrongness against all, and yet… he did nothing to stop it.

Naoya didn’t fight it, didn’t push his cousin away or even condemn him.

He just watched everything unfold, the same way you did through your hazed eyes, and took it.

“N—No…” you whimper, doing your best to raise your hands onto your face and hide from him, urge him to look away, but you couldn’t, and he didn’t, filling you with shame amidst your orgasm as Toji rubbed out the last wave of your release, unwittingly tightening against his still hard cock, making him moan in your ear. “D—don’t look, Naoya…”

“A baby.” Toji breathes, still high on his release—he doesn’t know if he really means it, or it’s just the side effect of his orgasm, but he’s too drunk to care. “A baby from a disgrace like me and a saint like you—I wonder what will come out of that?”

His cock suddenly slips out of your cunt while adjusting himself, accidentally splash some of it’s seed onto Naoya’s grasp. Your husband looks at it with utter disgust, but he can’t discern whether it’s for the fluid, the notion of you being pregnant with someone else’s child, or that he secretly enjoyed witnessing all this.

“But most importantly…” He breathes, raising his eyes to Naoya once more. “What will you tell the elders once they find out? How will you explain that your wife is carrying a bastard, simply because you wanted to see a disgrace like me fucking her?

“You—you won’t get her—one time isn’t enough.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” He mocks, Naoya frowns. “I wouldn’t bet on it—"

Toji sighs, taking a deep breath before reaching for his cock, aligning it onto your entrance, giving it a teasing rub or two that quickly has you whining in reproach, trembling at the prospect of another session like this when you’ve barely rested—but moaning when he finally enters you, throwing your head back as he goes all the way back to your cervix, stretching your walls and pushing the rest of his seed out, before nestling the tip just where you he liked and staying there.

He smiles, raising your legs yet again, before beginning to thrust.

“After all, I’m not done yet.”

Neither you nor Naoya would bring this up again.

Keeping it a secret between the two, hoping the third wouldn’t use this as blackmail, offering whatever it took to hide this affair from the clan, even if the answer was one they weren’t sure if they wanted to listen, more so when Toji simply… eased them to not worry, telling them that:

“If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

Although he knows it wouldn’t take long before one of you approaches him in the future for a similar affair, knows it’ll happen, it’s just a matter of time.

But whether it’ll be you, or Naoya… that’s something he’s thrilled to find out.

Omg. Well, that was interesting to write 😊 So long story short: if Naoya were to know this would happen, he would NOT invite Toji for a threesome hahaha. And in an ideal world, the thought of being with anyone else but your husband is enough to scare you away from it—as I told you, NaoyaxY/n is my way to go. It is what it is. So nope, no threesome with Toji. You're too intimidated by him anyways.

But does that mean I will deny myself from writing things like this? NOPE. Hahahaha I still hoped you enjoyed it!! Now I gotta write the Naoaki one….

Thank you so much for sending in this ask! I hope the hentai plot going on was good lol.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[xjulixred45x]

♡I saw your Akaza reader headcannons and i loved it!!!:D what about a Gyutaro reader? You can choose if daki should be involved or not, that's all up to you!(I love your blog☆)

THERE'S NO GYUTARO WITHOUT DAKI! I'LL TAKE IT!! but it's a little short😅 more like a Drabble.

Imagine having had the same kind of life as Gyutaro. being the son of a prostitute, constantly being rejected for your appearance, living in poverty and having to eat insects, even your own mother wanting to get rid of you. that was the life life of Gyutaro!reader.

Gyutaro! The reader got used to living on his own, to having to resort to dirty tactics to stay alive, well, how else was he going to do it?

That's what he thought until his sister, Ume, came into his life. and everything took on a different color.

Ume was his pride and joy, since finally there was someone in his family who loved him sincerely and did not want to hurt him, however Gyutaro reader was very protective of Ume. teaching her his ways to survive. that together with his sister's beautiful appearance, made them prosper.

until no longer...

Ume one day stabbed a Samurai in the eye, they tied her up and burned her alive...when Reader was not there...when he arrived he was ambushed by the same samurai. killing him.

This is how the sibilings got to Hell.

The brothers became prominent Overlords, Gyutaro Reader with his brute strength and Ume/Daki with his charms and beauty, having many souls in his repertoire.

I highly doubt that they want to help the hotel, honestly. but I can see them having a kind of rivalry with other demons relevant to the plot, such as the Vees, since they are precisely considered their "replacement".

Alastor has known the brothers for quite some time, they have been in Hell before him and he definitely knows not to underestimate them. Of course, he doesn't consider that they are at his level (egocentric HDP) but he definitely doesn't have time to mess with them.

Finds Gyutaro reader's greedy attitude very interesting and funny, he believes he will go far, although first he should bathe more often and stop hurting himself so much! He sees his constant envy to others as good "fuel" for his success!

Alastor can definitely handle Ume/Daki's attitude well, although, with all due respect, he thinks she's the most insufferable lady he's ever interacted with in his afterlife. although again, she is charming in her own way.

Charlie really wants to believe in them, seriously! but... they don't really give you a good reason to do so. Gyutaro! reader is not like Angel on the level of "fucked up but he's good underneath it all" NO! is "FUCKED and only good with Daki/ume, the rest? Screw them!" and Gyutaro reader's jealous tendencies along with his aggressive attitude would make OBVIOUS that Charlie would not consider him a good candidate for the hotel.

with Daki/Ume, on the other hand, she could have a good relationship if she hits the right places (her ego) and thus have them as allies, play with her to dress up and buy luxurious things together (Charlie could even know a little more about how they ended up in hell like that). In general, much more manageable for Charlie than his brother.

Vaggie DOESN'T LIKE either of them, period. believe that Gyutaro! reader is an idiot and his sister is a spoiled brat. but when she gets into a fight with Gyutaro! reader after he learns that she "made his sister cry," Vaggie understands the depth of their bond a little better.

Lowkey, she thinks they are good siblings, but terrible people. She won't think twice before taking out the angelic spear and pointing it at them to defend the hotel from them. nothing too personal. really.

Angel Dust meets Daki/Ume from the entertainment district area in hell, both are well known and considered Sex Icons, so for quite a while Angel had to compete with her for ratings, which generated a long-lasting feud.

although Angel eventually gave up because he realized that Daki/Ume's mental maturity is that of a YOUNG GIRL, a teenager at most, so he is not hostile towards her, in fact he is somewhat jealous of her for having a brother like Gyutaro! reader who supports her and protects her from people like Val. For him, may they continue like this, may they be happy.

Husk is surprisingly the one who could have a better relationship with them, simply because he doesn't get involved in their affairs and therefore they don't get involved with him. You may even function as a father figure to them that they didn't know they needed.

Husk can handle Gyutaro!reader's aggressiveness (with food) and Ume/Daki's whims (with sweets) better than anyone else. In general, Husk is almost untouchable in the areas that have sibilings thanks to the fact that he is on his good side. (he probably also knows how young they died, so he unconsciously spoils them)

Sir Pentious is afraid of them, clearly, he doesn't want to be near them. yes Gyutaro! reader is close HE STRAIGHTENS UP immediately and doesn't make a sound. If Daki/Ume is around, he does everything he is told WITHOUT EXCEPTION.

Ironically, thanks to this, they find him funny and do nothing to him, even (along with Husk) he is one of the few characters in the Hotel that really amuses them. so KEEP LIKE THIS PENTIOUS!

Niffty....Gyutaro! The reader stays away from her, he only tolerates her for being Alastor's maid, but she gives him the creeps (remember that Gyutaro, apart from being a ✨BadBoy✨, looks like a Mantis).

ironically Daki/Ume enjoys spending time with Niffty to play and dress pretty. two mentally unstable women living together! What could go wrong :)

In general, most respect their Overlord status, and don't really want to mess with the indestructible duo. they know! They mess with one and they're screwed✨

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[mermaid-trash]

CEO!Diluc x GN!Reader (SFW)

CEO!Diluc who hired you as his assistant because not only were you the most qualified candidate for the position, but you had also been the only candidate not to fawn over the young tycoon during the interview process.

CEO!Diluc who is caught off guard by the warmth that you bring to the office every day, and quickly becomes the one fawning over you; admiring your appearance from behind important papers that hide his flushed cheeks, waiting impatiently for the next time you enter his office with paperwork or a fresh cup of coffee in hand, all while trying to ignore the unfamiliar pounding of his heart.

CEO!Diluc who, against his own beliefs, engages in small talk with you every morning, asking how your weekend was and listening attentively to your response for the smallest scraps of information about your life, your likes and dislikes. Unbeknownst to him, the soft smile present on your face as you speak is mirrored on his own as he listens.

CEO!Diluc who more and more frequently catches himself thinking of you outside of work, when he drives past a café he thinks you would like or sees someone wearing a piece of clothing he thinks would look better on you, but convinces himself stubbornly that it doesn't mean anything.

CEO!Diluc who invites you to join him for lunch one day, simply so that he doesn't have to eat alone of course, and enjoys your company so much that he asks again the next day, and the next, until eventually he doesn't have to ask anymore. It becomes an unspoken part of your routine, to spend an hour together uninterrupted by work, sometimes chatting and sometimes just unwinding in a comfortable silence together.

CEO!Diluc who accidentally asks you out on a date during one of these lunch breaks. You had mentioned a restaurant in the city that you wanted to visit, and the words had escaped him before he could stop them: "We could go together tonight, if you like." His heart freezes at the stunned look you give him, but then you smile. It's wide and genuine, and Diluc realises that he desperately wants to see it again.

CEO!Diluc who spends the rest of the day panicking, suddenly aware of how underprepared for romance he feels. He isn't even certain that this is a date since neither of you had used that word and he doesn't want to presume anything, but still, this may be his only opportunity to spend an evening with you outside of work, and so he wants to make sure it's perfect for you.

CEO!Diluc who is obviously uncomfortable sitting at the small table opposite you, his eyes scanning the room constantly for anyone who may be watching him, judging him for this travesty of a date; he can barely even bring himself to look at you, so beautifully dressed up for him and lit by the flickering candle atop the white cloth covered table. He fears if he looks at you now, he may never want to look away.

CEO!Diluc who starts at the sound of your voice calling his name softly, his gaze suddenly jumping to your face and the concern written plainly on it. Biting your lip, you voice the question that had been playing on your mind all day until this moment: "Diluc, is this…is this a date?"

CEO!Diluc who freezes, warmth flooding his face as he searches blindly for the right answer. He fumbles, stuttering and stammering like a fool under your attentive gaze. In the end, he settles on a half answer: "I suppose that depends on what you would prefer." His head drops a little shamefully at his own hesitation; he was a coward, too afraid of rejection to take charge of the situation and affirm that yes, he wanted this to be a date.

CEO!Diluc who is pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of your hand grazing his, soft fingers intertwining with his in a firm, grounding grip. Shocked, he glances up at you and is greeted by a shy smile that makes your eyes twinkle far more beautifully than they had in the candlelight.

CEO!Diluc who's heart still hammers against his ribs erratically, but the young man finds it within himself to squeeze your fingers lightly in an unspoken assurance of his affections.

[caesarflickermans]

Part One: What we know

When exactly the rebels in the Capitol began gathering is unknown to us. We know there has been an undercover group “for several years” aiming to overthrow the Capitol (CF, 27). We also learn about Plutarch’s plans during the 10th Anniversary Interview, where Collins mentions that a tribute at the centre of the rebellion had been a plan for at least a decade, and hopes had been centered around candidates such as Finnick (SC).

There is no further information on when the underground group came into being, but we learn about several of their members, including Plutarch, Cinna, Tigris, Cressida, as well as her remaining team. We rightfully can speculate on Portia being included, too.

As this is my favourite element of the series to contemplate on, I have put together a timeline that  paraphrases my own thoughts!

Part Two: My own speculation

50 ADD: Haymitch’s Games as the spark for the rebellion

A young intern Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee works at his first Hunger Games; the second Quarter Quell. He is a direct witness to Haymitch's rebellious act and the Capitol's successful attempt to undermine it through direct action against the victor and potentially manipulating future footage of the Games. To Plutarch, this is the beginning of a rebellious act. Potentially, friends and family had already been lost to the mad king, but maybe the events of the 50th Games included more loss. Had someone powerful not dimmed, but brightened Haymitch's spark, maybe a rebellion could have ensued. Painted by injustices that the mad king had done to the people within the Capitol, and a belief that democracy serves Panem better, Plutarch begins to think about rebellion as a riddle: How could one end the tyranny?

50 ADD/51 ADD: Haymitch’s victory tour

Without a mentor, Haymitch needs company for his victory tour. Plutarch volunteers. This is his attempt to befriend, and eventually recruit, Haymitch to join his idea of an underground movement.

Mid 50s: Plutarch recruits Caesar Flickerman

Among the first people he recruits is Caesar Flickerman, whose feelings on the Capitol have made a 180 ever since he began to work closely with the tributes. As his job is to work close with tributes and mentors, Caesar is the perfect person to recruit and stay in contact with victors, as well as manipulate the viewership to pay close attention to a potential candidate. Over the years, they become close friends.

Late 50s/Early 60s: More allies join the rebellion

Victors such as Chaff, Beetee, and Lyme begin to join the rebellion. Within the Capitol, Plutarch recruits people such as Tigris—who he met as early as his intern years—to join their forces. They consider an escape to District 13 as their plan begins to take further shape. Most rebels only know of a few allies as to not compromise the mission.

Mid 60s: Searching for a Spartacus

As resources grow and a plan becomes realistic, Plutarch begins to look out for potential candidates. Several fail in the arena, and others do not spark a rebellion as he had hoped.

Plutarch establishes himself as a Head Gamemaker to have a stronger influence on future Games and their Gamemakers, as well as becoming a trusted advisor to Snow.

[The events of my fanfiction ‘She smelled like white roses’ take place here, where Plutarch befriends, falls in love with, and recruits Virgilia Snow, the wife of the President]

Late 60s: Reaching out to District 13 and recruiting more allies

Plutarch finds life in District 13, making his plan to escape to 13 even more viable. He also recruits people such as Cressida and Cinna, the latter who is an aspiring designer and promises to jump in on last notice to a potential District.

Cinna’s role in the rebellion is to wait for a potential candidate, and aid in their appearance before the Games. He has prepared several designs for several Districts.

74 ADD, 74th Reaping Day

Katniss’ volunteering brings hope to a stagnant underground movement. Several things are set into motion, including replacing District 12’s stylist with Cinna on very short notice.

74 ADD, Pre-Games

Katniss notes that a Gamemaker keeps watching her. As Plutarch reveals later that he was present during the score evaluation (CF, 6), we can theorise he might have watched her during the training days as well (THG, 7). It can be theorised that Plutarch was, in part, responsible for Katniss high score. Secretly wishing to give her attention and a fighting chance, he might have pretended to be offended and wanting to punish her. In addition, he might have advocated to include a bow and arrow 'to make the Games more interesting' if one had not been included prior.

Caesar as a potential ally might have spoken to Haymitch about Peeta's plan and, in turn, asked Peeta about a love back home as well as encouraging Katniss to spin her dress. The interviews work perfectly in favour of the rebellion.

74 ADD, The 74th Games

I assume that the rebels, specifically Plutarch and Virgilia Snow, convinced Seneca to perform a rule change. Seneca, in hopes to continue as a Head Gamemaker for the third Quarter Quell, would have been more willed to impress President Snow. The rule change might have always been a temporary idea, withdrawn at the last minute for maximum entertainment.

74 ADD, Post-Games

Katniss excels far beyond what the underground movement might have hoped for. The early waves of rebellion grow fast, leaving the rebellion to try and set into motion Plutarch’s return to Head Gamemaker status—a process aided by someone close to the President; his wife Virgilia.

Shortly after the end of the 74th Games, the plans for the 75th arena’s layout begin.

75 ADD, The Victory Tour and the Quarter Quell announcement

By the time that Katniss arrives at the Capitol for her victory tour, the flames of rebellion have grown ever further. Plutarch only needs to fuel them and get the main part of the rebels to 13. Many have questioned the extent of the rebellion's plans when he speaks to her.

When Plutarch mentions that "arenas aren't built in a day" (CF, 6), it is unlikely that he directly refers to the process of building arenas. Instead, his words mirror the sentiment that "Rome wasn't built in a day", thus potentially indicating that the rebellion, and the idea of rebellion, needs time to grow.

In addition, a general assumption is that Plutarch did, at that time, not intend for the Quarter Quell to exist in the shape it came to exist. A quote used in favour of this interpretation is that he later stated that "I never dreamed you'd be a tribute again" (CF, 27). This is similar in the movie, where the Quarter Quell premise was only changed after Gale's whipping which occurs after the victory tour.

While it is therefore true that the rebellion had not yet influenced the Quarter Quell premise, it does not indicate that this was not Plutarch's plan all along, simply that he had not yet had the opportunity to adjust the Quarter Quell to his liking.

75 ADD, Post Quarter Quell announcement

Plans are brought into motion, final arrangements with District 13 are being made. The rebels are finally seeing their plans brought to life.

Cinna begins his design plans for Katniss’ mockingjay suit and hands them to Plutarch shortly before the beginning of the Quarter Quell.

The victors are informed about the final plan of the Quarter Quell right before its start, and only in the extent necessary for each individual victor. They learn about the bread code and several plans are laid out that Katniss can escape; the lightning tree not being the sole solution. I assume there are several plans as the bread code changes from four days (without Beetee) to three days (with Beetee). It would also be surprising if Plutarch didn’t have a plan B up his sleeves.

Lastly, I take it that the destruction of the arena was not truly necessary, as hovercrafts get in and out all the time (with or without the help of an inside source). Plutarch might simply have favoured the metaphor of a physically destroyed arena.

[absurdthirst]

Christmas Honeymoon {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.2k

Warnings: Cheating, broken engagements, insults, sexual insecurities, mentions of hard limits, mentions of pegging and violence during sex, drunken antics, making out, miscommunication, angst, oral sex (male and female receiving), face sitting, vaginal sex, nipple play.

Comments: A Christmas wedding that never happens sends you on your honeymoon alone. Or so you thought. Before the plane takes off, someone else takes the seat beside you. Marcus Pike, your partner, your ex-fiancé's brother and the man you have been in love with despite agreeing to marry his brother.

A/N: There are mentions of partners ignoring hard limits and trying to coerce partners to doing things that they are not comfortable with. Please do not let partners push your boundaries - that is not healthy. Just because someone is into something doesn't mean you have to go along with it.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Marcus shuffles slightly, picking at a piece of lint that is nearly invisible and feels that breathless sort of anticipation as he waits for the music to start playing. “I’m nervous.” Brad leans towards him and mutters under his breath despite the smile he is showing towards a large room full of people. The protector overhead is sliding between candid moments and the formal engagement photos between Marcus’s brother and you, his fiancée, who he is marrying as soon as the music starts to play.

“You’ll do great.” Marcus reassures him, reaching out and patting his brothers suited back. Despite the twisting in his stomach, some silly attachment that he knows better than to think about too long, he’s happy for his brother. Telling himself that it’s just the fact that he’s single that is making him almost dread the wedding march starting and not the feelings that he harbors for you. 

You exhale shakily, nervous as the music begins to play and the projector is turned off for your grand entrance. You smile at your dad and step into the room, the gasps of awe making your stomach twist as smiling faces watch you make your way down the aisle. Eventually, you lock eyes with Brad who is grinning with tears in his eyes but the face that makes your heart thump is the man standing next to your husband to be…Marcus. God, you’ve always had a crush on him and when you found out he was married, it was DOA. When his then wife tried to set you up with his brother, you went with it and here you are. When your dad kisses your cheek and hands you over to Brad, Marcus offers you a smile, although his eyes look sad. 

“Dearly beloved-” The officiant begins but you shake your head, interrupting him. 

“Sorry. Can we - can we just turn the projector back on. I have a surprise for my fiancé. Please move to the next slide.” You order and your wedding planner nods, panicking at your deviation but obeying. “It appears that my fiancé has been cheating on me…with his brother’s ex wife. Couldn’t make that up.” You turn towards the crowd, “see above proof.” 

You look at Brad before you begin to read. “Can’t wait to see you baby. My pussy is aching for you. Brad replied ‘don’t worry baby girl. She’s heading out for surveillance with Marcus, I’ll be over soon and fill that pussy up with my big cock.’” The words almost make you gag but you continue, reading off the raunchy texts that you discovered on Brad’s iPad when he was out one night and the damn thing wouldn’t stop pinging.

Marcus’s eyes widen and he looks over to his brother in horror and disbelief, the tell-tell sign of his guilt plastered all over the younger man’s face. He hadn’t gotten any better at giving himself away since they were kids. Their mother, steady and constant in their lives and a large part of their moral upbringing, stands up. “Bradley Anthony Pike! What is wrong with you!” She shouts.

You let the slides continue as you turn towards your fiancé. “It’s over. I hope she was worth it.” You slide the engagement ring off of your finger and hand it to Brad who is trying to tell you to not do this, he can explain. “There’s nothing to explain. It’s done. We are done.” You tell Brad who shakes his head, looking over at his mom who is fuming with him.

The crowd murmurs turn to a dull roar and Marcus feels devastated for you, and betrayed for himself. He knows it’s much worse for you, since you had still been with Brad. “How could you?” He hisses when Brad turns back to him for help. Once again expecting his big brother to bail him out of the jam he was in, but there was no helping this when the evidence was irrefutable. 

Their father stands up and claps loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Please! Uh, this is - could everyone make their way to the reception hall while we….deal with this? Please, enjoy the bar.” He huffs, shaking his head and exiting the row to stride over to where your parents are crowded around you.

Your parents are fuming as they look between you, Brad, and the slides. This wedding has cost them a fortune and to find out the man they believed loved you has cheated on you with his brother’s ex wife, your dad is furious. The crowd shuffles out of the room, some looking back and the dull roar eventually quietens down and you turn to your parents. “I’m so sorry.” You choke, tears now stinging in your eyes from both anger towards Brad and sadness for your ruined wedding. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. He doesn’t deserve you. At least you found out now before you married him.” Your mom strokes your cheek and your dad nods, turning to glare at Brad.

Andrew Pike comes over, embarrassment painted on his face and he swallows, looking at the daughter-in-law that he was happy to invite into the family. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. His mother and I did not raise him that way.” He promises, although he knows those words mean little to you right now. “I- let me reimburse you for the wedding.” He begs your parents. “My son fucked up. You shouldn’t have to pay for this.” He gestures around to the gorgeous wedding that you had planned. “Send me the bill and I will pay it.”

Your dad hesitates but knows he would offer the same if it was his son. “We can talk later, Andrew. Let’s sort this mess out first. Obviously, my daughter isn’t marrying your son.” Your dad tells Brad’s father who looks sad. You always got along with the Pike’s, a lovely family who have always been kind to you, welcomed you with open arms. You’re sad to lose them as they will obviously be by their son’s side no matter his sins. “I’m sorry. I - I really was excited to marry him but I- I can’t.” 

The Pikes shake their heads and Marcus’s mom pulls you into her arms, “don’t be silly, darling. We still love you. Our son…he is a disgrace.” She turns to look at an ashamed Brad who decides to step forward to talk to you, try to apologize and convince you to marry him.

Marcus grabs his brother’s arm and pulls him back, his younger brother whipping his head around to glare at him. “No, don’t.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to whine and cry and try to get out of this. Don’t insult her any more than you already have.” He’s pissed, the fact that he would cheat on you, on his partner, pisses him off more than he can express. The hurt on your face makes him want to bundle you up in a hug, but keeping Brad away from you is more important. “Seriously? You had to do this with Julia?”

Brad huffs at his older brother, “you know she didn’t like her. You know she wanted me to take her on so she would stop mooning over you. Your ex-wife wanted to get back at you for your partner crushing on you when you wouldn’t shut it down and I wanted some pussy. Can you blame me? Julia is good in bed. She’s a freak and I guess that’s part of why you divorced her? She was too much for you to handle, you bored her.” Brad is lashing out right now, furious with himself but taking it out on his older brother.

That cuts to the quick, the jab about him being boring, considering the arguments they would have. She didn’t feel like Marcus should have his own limits on what he was comfortable with in bed. “There was nothing to shut down, I would never have cheated on her.” Marcus shakes his head, disappointed in the little brother that he had previously been so proud of. “Just like you shouldn’t have cheated. Doesn’t matter why.”

Brad scoffs, “whatever man. You were always jealous that I got to marry her. I’ll win her back. Just wait and see.” Brad shoves Marcus away from him and strides over to you, making you straighten your spine as you glare at your now ex fiancé. 

“What do you want Brad?” You spit and Brad is held back by his father. 

“Baby. Let me explain.” He begs and you shake your head, “there’s nothing to explain. You cheated. It’s over. We are done.” You say coolly. You already went through the stages of anger, sadness and denial. Now you’re on acceptance. “It’s over. Goodbye Brad.” You tell him, turning towards your parents who usher you through the venue and you turn to look at Marcus, his soft eyes watching you and he nods, knowing you’ll talk to him soon. 

**** 

You settle into the first class seat your father-in-law booked for you for your honeymoon to his son, but his son isn’t beside you. No one is. You decided you needed to get out of town, away from the pitying looks of your friends and family who were treading on eggshells around you, and figured you might as well head off to Hawaii on your honeymoon, even if it isn’t a honeymoon.

Marcus smiles and thanks the agent as the ticket scans, slightly smug that he had made it through TSA with nothing more than the quickest flash of his badge. Technically against Bureau policy but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. His bag in hand, he walks up the gangway towards the plane. Last night, all hell had broken loose at the Pike residence and while his mother and father were reading Brad the riot act, Marcus had changed the name on the electronic ticket and disappeared upstairs to pack a bag. Nothing was going to stop him. Nodding to the flight crew, Marcus turns towards the first class cabin and spots you, staring out the window from your seat. Your bag is already stowed and you seem to be lost in your own thoughts with a drink sitting on the tray table in front of you. Marcus strides up to you, looking more confident than he feels and clears his throat. “It looks like this seat is mine.” He hums. 

Your eyes widen as you look at Marcus who looms above you, a friendly smile on his face. He’s the last person you expected to sit next to you, figuring they would just upgrade someone in economy to sit beside you. “What are you doing here?” You ask, swallowing harshly at how damn handsome he looks in his jeans and t-shirt when you’re so used to seeing him in a suit every day at work.

Marcus shoves his bag in the overhead compartment with yours and almost closes it before he catches himself. The flight attendants prefer to close them to make sure they latch properly. “Going to Hawaii.” He gives a small shrug like it’s the most obvious answer and sits down beside you. “Changed the name on the ticket. Already had time off work.” Working without your partner sucks, so Marcus had taken off as well, joking he was going to hang around his condo in his underwear and eat pizza. Not mentioning that he was also going to try to get over the very un-brother-in-law feelings he had for you.

Your mouth falls open at the backhanded way he got his ticket but you love him for it. “You better sit down and get some champagne then. Does the FBI know that a pair of partners are off on vacation together?” You tease and he snorts. 

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I just - I figured there’s no point in wasting the ticket and I wanted to be here for you. As your partner.” He adds, making you reach out to squeeze his hand. 

“Thank you Marcus. I - I don’t blame you for what your brother did. Also, your ex was involved. Are you okay?” He must feel betrayed by that.

“It doesn’t feel great.” Marcus admits, ducking his head slightly and his shoulders round. “It’s more that I’m hurt that it was my brother. I just-“ he shakes his head, still shocked by all of this. “It’s all like some fucked up version of the twilight zone. But enough about me, how are you?” He had wanted to text you and see if he could come by, check on you, but you had notifications silenced so he hadn’t texted you. Wanting to respect your need for privacy.

You keep your hand in his, “I’m fine. I, uh, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I didn’t - I decided that my love for Brad was more about having someone. I loved him but I wasn’t in love with him. I’m mainly hurt by his actions, hurt that he cheated on me and hid it. I’m a damn FBI agent and he kept that hidden from me, I should’ve known better. I should have figured it out and dealt with him before my parents spent all that money on a wedding I wasn’t even sure I wanted.”

Marcus snorts, and he squeezes your hand. “Sometimes you don’t see it because you’re too close.” He reminds you. “Besides, don’t worry about the cost. My dad is going to pay your parents back and he’s already said that every dime is coming out of Brad’s inheritance.” Marcus had to hide his chuckle when their father had made that decision, Brad was furious but he only had himself to blame. “At least you didn’t marry him and have him continue to cheat on you.”

You scoff at Brad losing money from his inheritance. You doubt the sex was worth it. The air steward comes over, “welcome Mr. & Mrs. Pike, can I get you something to drink?” She asks, offering you a smile and you fluster at the title, knowing you could’ve been Mrs. Pike if you had gotten married.

Rather than correct her and potentially have to explain, Marcus just smiles and nods. “Champagne please.” He requests, looking back at you with a grin and a wink. “Champagne's for celebrating, right? And that’s what we are doing.”

You smile, nudging him as you pull your hand away, realizing this is becoming a little too close for work colleagues even if he was due to become your brother-in-law. You watch him take the glass from the stewardess who refills your glass. “To almost being in-laws.” You joke, clinking your glass against his once she walks away.

“To you not marrying a man who doesn’t deserve you.” Marcus says quietly, lifting his glass slightly and taking a sip. “I want you to know that if I had known about it all, I would have told you. And probably beat his ass.”

You nod, knowing that Marcus wouldn’t have let you marry if he suspected anything untoward. “I know. I know.” You promise, sipping your own champagne. “Let’s have a good vacation together, huh? Maybe we can get you laid on this trip.” You tease, knowing it’s been a while for Marcus.

He rolls his eyes but the slight heat creeping up his neck gives him away. “Shut up.” He huffs at you, even though he smiles as he takes another sip. “I’ve had…a couple of one-nighters. I just don’t brag about it like the other idiots we work with.”

You smirk, “one nighters…a year ago. You didn’t exactly do what every other guy in our office does which is divorce and fuck everything with a pulse.” You remember the stories from the break room with a wrinkle of your nose. Marcus isn’t like them, he’s a good guy. He’s the kind of man you should’ve married but you know he just views you as a sister. He’s never given any evidence of feelings beyond friendship. “Let’s have a good time on this trip and forget all the bullshit. We can deal with it when we land back here.”

“Sounds like fun.” He sends you a small wink and settles back in his seat, his stomach fluttering with excitement. It’s not like you want to sleep with him, your crush is long dead and he would never take advantage of you. It would make him no better than his brother. His phone beeps and he reaches into his pocket and ignores the text from his brother and turns off the phone for the flight. “Let’s be pleasantly drunk by the time we land.” Marcus suggests.

By the time you land, you’re buzzed and laughing at the time Marcus let that perp steal his pants after he shit himself from fear by being chased by the FBI. You had fallen asleep a few hours into the flight, leaning against Marcus as you fell asleep on his shoulder. When the pilot announced your landing, you jerked back off of your partner, flustered as you cleared your throat to look out of the window. One last drink and you’re landing, the mountains of Honolulu greeting you as the plane moves along the tarmac.

“You know, I’ve never been to Hawaii.” Marcus leans over you slightly, inhaling the familiar scent of your perfume and trying to ignore the way his cock twitches. “I cannot wait. You know they filmed scenes from Jurassic Park here. And that movie you like on Netflix, Triple Hotties.” He chuckles, teasing you about the way you had raved over the hot men - and Ben Affleck - in that movie.

You chuckle, looking back at him. “You know you look like one of the guys in it. Frankie.” You remind him, refraining from saying that the actor was the hottest one in it. He looks just like Marcus but less groomed. “Maybe we can do a day trip to see the filming locations, but honestly? I just want to lay in the sun and drink and maybe get laid. Your brother…Julia must’ve had a different man than I did.”

Marcus grimaces slightly, shaking his head. “Please don’t ever tell me what my brother is like in bed please. It’s bad enough that-“ he cuts off what he was going to say, the salt in the wound making him wonder if he was boring in bed. He didn’t think so, but Julia apparently told Brad he was. Not that she had ever complained to him beyond wishing he would cave on his hard limits.

“No more talking about Brad and Julia.” You order, shaking your head as the plane comes to a stop at the gate. “I won’t allow it. This vacation is about us now.” You pat his knee as the cabin starts to stand up to take their things down from the overhead bin.

First class is first off the plane and Marcus trails behind you, insistent to carry your bag for you. When you come out into the terminal, Marcus looks around. “Where are you supposed to meet the car for the hotel?”

“There.” You point to the sign that says “Mr. & Mrs. Pike” and you sigh as you approach the driver. “Thats, uh, that’s us.” You tell the driver who grins, “congratulations! Welcome to Honolulu, let me take your bag.” He reaches for your bags and you let him take it.

“Don’t worry ‘Mrs. Pike’.” Marcus teases under his breath as the two of you follow him out to a sleek and shiny town car with the resort logo on the side. “We will only be asked how the wedding was six thousand times.” He has to admit, he likes the sound of you being Mrs. Pike, but not because of his brother. He imagines how he would be for you to have his name because of him.

You like the way he calls you Mrs. Pike, more so than any other time you’ve heard it during your engagement. It’s because it’s Marcus saying it. You smile at Marcus, “might as well play into it. Maybe we can get some freebies. Wanna play pretend?” You ask him with a smirk, knowing it’s a dangerous game but you’re excited for the first time since that disaster of a wedding.

Grinning at you, Marcus nods. “We’re undercover.” He jokes. “Newlyweds.” His hand covers around your back and he rests it on your hip. “Can’t wait to get to the hotel, baby.” He purrs, loud enough for the driver to hear. It’s a fine line to walk, but it’s a chance to see what it would be like before you move on to someone else who deserves you. Before he goes back to being your partner and not your almost brother-in-law. “Wonder if they will have Christmas trees or decorate palm trees with lights.”

You grin, heart skipping a beat at the way he squeezes your hip so you lean into him, playing along. “I’m sure they will. Christmas in paradise. You sure you aren’t gonna miss the cold weather and hot chocolate instead of sunshine and Mai Tais?” You tease him, tilting your head on his shoulder to look at his face.

“Not as long as you are right here with me.” Kissing your lips wouldn’t be right, so he leans in and kisses the tip of your nose. That’s a cute show of affection without being too intimate. “Me, you, a beach and some Mai Tais sounds perfect.”

Your stomach twists at the way he kisses your nose and your heart sinks. Despite everything that has happened, you know Marcus only views you as a friend. You swallow harshly and pull away from him. “Sounds good.” You murmur and look out of the window as the car pulls into the resort.

Marcus frowns at the way you pull away and he swallows, adjusting in the seat next to you. “Sorry.” He whispers quietly, wishing he hadn’t made you uncomfortable. “I overstepped. I shouldn’t have done that.” You must feel horrible, considering this was supposed to be your honeymoon and your here with your partner who basically invited himself and is a glaring reminder of your ex fiancé. Suddenly this seems like the dumbest decision he’s made in a long time.

You frown, turning to look at Marcus. You reach for his hand, your heart twisting at the fact that he’s still thinking about you. “Marcus, no. You didn’t overstep. It’s - it’s me. I just- my mind is all over the place.” You admit, hoping he thinks you mean with the wedding and not him. “Let’s forget about it, okay? This is supposed to be about our vacation. Let’s enjoy it.” You squeeze his hand, offering him a soft smile.

Nodding, the two of you continue to hold hands, although it’s slightly awkward. The ride from the airport is surprisingly quick and the view from the car windows is stunning as you turn into the entrance to the resort. “Wow.” Marcus whispers. “This is- gorgeous.”

“I picked it out. Did a lot of research on resorts and I - I thought it was gorgeous. I’ve always wanted to come to Hawaii. I’m glad you’re here Marcus. To enjoy it with me.” You squeeze his hand as the car pulls up and you smile as the driver helps you out.

“Welcome, Mr. & Mrs. Pike!” The concierge, complete on a Hawaiian shirt greets them warmly and within a couple of moments, leis were around your neck. Marcus tamps down the juvenile joke about already getting laid and thanks the young woman who put it around his neck. He knows that the resort must give them out to all guests, but he had read about the cultural importance of them while you had been sleeping on his shoulder.

You grin, already so happy to be here despite the nightmare of your recent life events and looking over at Marcus, you know you’re going to indulge a bit in the “Mr. & Mrs. Pike” thing. You’ve always had a crush on Marcus but between him being married and your partner when you first met, you decided to shove it down and when his ex-wife introduced you to Brad, you took it as a chance to start anew without your painful crush on Marcus. It’s still there though. Never died apparently if your heart thumping indicates. “Please follow me to the honeymoon suite.” The concierge declares after you check in and you curse yourself for forgetting to call and change that. Still, you are going along with the ruse and decide that the room you are in can’t be much different from a regular room.

Honeymoon suite….Marcus closes his eyes in a silent prayer for being so stupid to forget that you most likely booked a suite. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway for you and Brad. Hopefully the couch is comfortable, because he has a feeling that’s where he’s going to be sleeping.

You enter the suite and gasp at the beautiful place that greets you. Rose petals are scattered on the floor leading to the bed and there's champagne in a bucket waiting alongside chocolates and a fruit bowl. You swallow harshly, looking over at Marcus who looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. "Thank you." You tip the bellboy before Marcus can and you smile when you see the beach and ocean. "This is paradise."

It is paradise, and it’s romantic. Something that will get to Marcus because he is a romantic at heart. His execution could use a little work sometimes - but he wants to love and be loved completely. Julia used to hate things like this, thinking rose petals scattered was ridiculous, but your eyes are soft and there is a melancholy that makes him want to pull you into a fierce hug and kiss away that look. “I- uh, I’ll sleep on the couch.” He offers, looking over at the too short loveseat that is positioned in the room to break it up. His feet will hang over the end, but you deserve the bed. “Since you were expecting to sleep alone when you decided to come.” 

“Marcus…” You shake your head, “I’m not letting you sleep on that loveseat. I want you to have a good vacation so you’ll be sleeping in the bed. We will be fine. We are partners…I’ve already heard you snore.” You joke, winking at him.

Marcus flushes slightly, aware that is completely true. “I have sinus issues.” He huffs at you, giving an over exaggerated pout before he laughs. “Okay, as long as you are comfortable with it. I will happily not sleep on that small couch.”

You shake your head, “no. No, sweetheart. Don’t be silly. You can sleep in the bed too. We are adults.” You snort, walking over to the bed and you caress the sheets as you stare at the heart shaped rose petals in the middle. “He really fucked up. He’s going to regret it.” You murmur, looking back at Marcus and for a moment, you wish you had never met Brad, that this was actually for you and Marcus.

“Yes, he will.” Of that he is completely certain. “I don’t know why he did it-“ he won’t tell you that it was simply to get laid. That’s disgusting because his brother would brag about how often you would give him sex so he knows it wasn’t a lack of intimacy. “But I want to assure you that not all men are like that. I can say for certain my mother never worried about my father and I never cheated on my ex.”

You smile, walking over to Marcus and you cup his cheeks, leaning in to kiss his chin. “You are so kind Marcus, I doubt you’d survive lying to someone for that long. You can’t lie for shit when it comes to your personal life. I love that about you. We have both dealt with shitty partners but I want you to know that I’m so happy I’m here with you, my best friend and partner.”

He smiles at you, thankful that you don’t hate him for what his brother has done to you, but he’s also a little disappointed you don’t think of him as more than just your friend and partner. It was why he always dismissed Julia’s claims that you had a thing for him, you were just lovely and she interpreted it as vying for attention. Whereas now he wonders when his ex-wife and his brother started sleeping together. “So do you want to change and go lay on the beach or by the pool?” He asks.

“Oooh, let’s go lay by the pool. I desperately need a drink after everything that’s happened.” You pat his chest and walk over to your suitcase, pulling out your toiletry bag and the bag full of bikinis you bought for this trip. Some are definitely risqué but you don’t care, you want to feel sexy after being cheated on. You take the bathroom first, freshening up and changing and you come out from the bathroom wearing the bikini and only the bikini so you can search for your cover up and hat.

Marcus pulls out a set of swimming trunks while you are in the bathroom, aware that it will take you longer to get ready for the pool than he will. He opens the fruit basket and steals a kiwi, moaning at the sweet, juicy fruit after he’s dug out his flip flops and changed, ready to relax and recharge.

You smile when you see Marcus on the sofa, eating a kiwi, and you wish this was your honeymoon to him, you were married to him. Pushing that thought immediately out of your mind, you grab your beach bag and ask him if he’s ready. He nods, finishing off the kiwi and the way he licks his fingers has your cunt clenching around nothing. You want to moan but refrain.

“So - hear me out before you say no, what about we put my credit card on file for drinks and room service?” Marcus’s hand hovers over your back as the two of you make your way out of the room and he wants to make a comment about how fucking fantastic you look, but he doesn’t. You don’t need to know that he’s happy you found a coverup so he doesn’t stare like a creep, although he’s not going to be able to take off the sunglasses perched on his nose when you’re laying by the pool.

You shake your head, “Marcus. No. You can’t pay for everything. We - your brother cheated, not you. I already put my card down on the booking. Let’s enjoy this time to relax and not worry about money, huh?” You tell him, loving the way his hand presses against your lower back as he guides you through the hotel to the pool. “It’s such a nice day.” You sigh when you are escorted to your assigned loungers, and you immediately pull the cover up off, exposing the skimpy bikini beneath.

“Jesus.” Marcus hisses under his breath, his eyes widening and drinking in the sight of all the skin that is normally concealed under your sensible work suits. He swallows harshly, reminding himself that you don’t want him ogling you and busies himself spreading out his towel and taking off his flip flops. “Yep, we need a drink.” He grunts out.

You nod, gesturing for the waiter to come over and you order a Mai Tai and Marcus orders the same. You smile and reach into your beach bag for your sunscreen. “Would you mind - I haven’t been able to reach my back.” You ask Marcus, feeling a little awkward but sunburn would be worse.

“Sure, as long as you do me.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore the dirtier side of the joke as he takes the cream and flips the cap open. “Don’t want you to get sun poisoning. It can happen and then you’ll be miserable.”

You chuckle, shifting to sit down on his lounger as you turn your back for him. “I don’t want that. You either. Let’s agree to put sunscreen on each other when we remember so we don’t get sun poisoning and ruin the vacation.” You say, looking over your shoulder at him as you watch him pour some cream into his hand.

Putting on sunscreen isn’t the way he ever dreamed of touching your bare back, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rubbing his hands together so the cream isn’t quite so cold, he smiles at you. “Absolutely.” He promises before he slides his hands over your skin for the first pass of sunscreen before he starts to massage it in.

You smile at the way he gently rubs the cream into your skin, making you close your eyes as you never thought you’d get the chance to have Marcus touch you like this, even if it’s innocent. He is swift and precise, quickly rubbing the lotion into your back and you turn to take the bottle. “You turn, Pike.” You smile, squirting some cream into your hand.

He groans at the feeling of the cold cream on his skin, loving the contrast of temperatures. “If I was laying down, I would probably fall asleep.” He admits with a chuckle. “We should get one of those couples massages.” He suggests, imagining relaxing and being pampered with you.

"Mmm, that sounds nice. I don't remember the last time I had a massage. Your brother never-" You cut yourself off, not wanting to talk about Brad with Marcus. You sigh, continuing to rub the cream into Marcus's back until his shoulders are covered too. "All done." You resist the urge to lean forward and kiss his neck. Standing up, you sigh as you realize you didn't exactly wear the best shoes. One you have to unbuckle. So you lift your foot onto the sunbed, bending over to unbuckle the shoe with your ass, unbeknownst to you, in Marcus's face.

Marcus twitches in his swimsuit, eyes glued to your ass and he bites his lips so he doesn’t groan out loud. God, he wants to touch you. Luckily, he spots the server bringing the drinks over and he quickly shuffles back onto his lounger. “Maybe we need to pick you up some slippers.” He tells you. “It’s what Hawaiians call flip flops.”

You wink, “I’ll have to get some. Easier than these shoes. I have sandals, I’ll have to get them out of my case.” You thank the server for the drink and take the receipt to sign it while he gives Marcus his drink. “Thank you.” You smile at the server and hand him the receipt. “God, that’s good.” You moan after sipping your drink, “to our honeymoon.” You tease, clinking your cup against Marcus’s.

“To our honeymoon.” Marcus agrees, smirking slightly and raising an eyebrow. “Although if it was really my honeymoon we wouldn’t be out here right now.” He tells you with a wink of his own. “That room had a bottle of champagne and a bed. That’s what I would be drinking and where I would be drinking it.” 

You swallow harshly the sip you had taken from your drink. The way his lip curls into a smirk has you squeezing your thighs together at the idea of him possibly fucking you in a bed drinking champagne…possibly from you. You chuckle softly, “Julia really fucked up divorcing you, Pike. You are too good for her.”

“She had her reasons.” Marcus sighs and takes a sip of his own drink. “I think it was - fuck, I don’t know. She was jealous of you, you know?” He tells you suddenly. “Always pissed off because we had a good relationship, friendship.” He snorts. “And she was probably sleeping with Brad before we got divorced.” 

You bite your lip, “I don’t know. I just saw the texts right before the wedding. I - between you and me…I was hesitant to get engaged but Brad - he - he just looked at me and you know I’m a people pleaser. I couldn’t say no when he did it in a crowded restaurant. Why the hell was she jealous of me? You were going home to her every night. You were in her bed. You weren’t - we are friends. Always have been. Partners. She shouldn’t have let you go. You’re a good man. Sweet, funny, kind. Even if she thought you were boring in bed, those traits are worth more than a few mind blowing orgasms.”

“I’m not boring in bed.” Marcus grunts, shaking his head. “I just-“ his cheeks burn and he looks around the resort to make sure that someone wasn’t too close to the two of you. “She kept wanting me to ignore my hard limits and do things that I didn’t want to do.”

You frown, sitting up so you can reach for his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” You tell him firmly, “everyone has preferences and people don’t have similar tastes all the time. It’s give and take. If you love someone, you accept what they like and don’t like. What - what was it she wanted you to do?” You ask from pure curiosity.

“She wanted me to slap her in the face.” Marcus is all for spanking, but she wanted him to leave marks and he was never going to do something like that, even sexually. “And hated the fact that I wouldn’t let her peg me. I’m not into it, and she kept pushing, even bought the equipment.” That makes him smirk. “So I guess you just learned something about your ex that you might not have known before.” He’s all for people enjoying what they enjoy but he hated how much she would get angry at him for not wanting to do it. It was a hard limit and she refused to accept that. 

Your eyes widen, “no fucking way. Brad would - he never wanted - he never asked me to fuck him like that. I mean…it’s never been my thing to ask my partner to do that but I also would respect someone telling me no. He - fuck - Brad let her fuck him? He doesn’t seem the type. He’s always been so…dominant in the bedroom.” You reveal despite knowing that Marcus doesn’t want to hear about that. “She should’ve respected your boundaries and I- I’m a little vanilla too.” You reveal, biting your lip. Missionary is your favorite position but mainly because it’s intimate and you love kissing during sex.

“I don’t think I’m vanilla.” Marcus shrugs slightly. “I mean, I love to experiment or try new positions but I also think that it’s amazing to just…connect with my partner. Make them feel good. Make them cum as many times as I can.” He imagines making love with you, having you cry out and seeing what you mean by being vanilla. 

You shift, pussy clenching at his words, and you wish you could experience that with him but it isn’t meant to be. He just sees you as a friend. “You sound like the perfect lover.” You chuckle, turning to look at him, “seriously…Julia messed up. You deserve someone who loves you for you. Brad…he always wanted me to, uh, to have a threesome, or an orgy. I didn’t- it wasn’t my thing.”

“No offense, I would not share you.” Marcus snorts, shaking his head at how stupid his brother is. “Some people like that, and it’s cool if all parties are up for it, but I could never. I’m too jealous.” He admits. “I never show that because it’s ridiculous but I would pull you away from someone else touching you if you were mine.” 

You grin, “I didn’t know you were the possessive type, Pike.” You tease, leaning closer to him across the space between your lounger and his. “Sexy. I like that.” You wink at him after pulling your sunglasses down to look at him. God, this version of your partner is sexy, playful, and it’s getting harder to deny how attracted you are to him, have always been to him.

That fucking dick of his won’t stop twitching, especially when you do silly little things like wink at him. He tells himself not to, that it’s too much but he leans in too, a confident smile on his face. “Good to know you find that sexy.” He hums, licking his lips. 

You unconsciously lean closer, eyes flicking down to his lips, and the urge to kiss him is almost overwhelming until the server comes by to ask if you want another drink. Pulling back from Marcus, you nod, ordering another drink for you both. “I, um, I’m gonna take a dip in the pool. It’s so hot.” You need a moment away from Marcus so you get up, making your way to the steps and you slowly walk into the water, groaning at the cool sensation

“Your wife is a beautiful woman.” A man two loungers down from Marcus comments, making him look away from the vision of you in the water to glance over at him. 

“Thank you.” Marcus simply says, turning back to you and wondering if he should go get in the water too. 

“Honeymoon?” He asks, making Marcus have to think for a second before he nods. “Yeah, arrived today.” 

The other man snorts and shakes his head. “You’re a lucky man, surprised you are out of your room. I wouldn’t be if I had her for my wife.” Marcus secretly agrees with him, watching the water drip off your breasts as you come up from dipping yourself. 

You turn to look at Marcus, smiling at him as he watches you wade through the water. You are worried about how much you’re letting yourself sink into the fantasy of this being your honeymoon to Marcus. It’s too easy with him, he’s so handsome and funny and kind. If you’re truly honest, it’s always been him. Brad was your attempt to get over your crush on Marcus but right now, you realize you’ve been in love with Marcus since you started working together. You thought you loved Brad but honestly, you loved his family more. With a sigh, you swim through the water, letting the tropical surroundings calm you until you end up stepping out of the pool, water dripping down your body until you grab the towel on your lounger.

“Have a good swim?” Marcus asks, picking up the new drink that had been delivered while you were in the water and handing it to you once you have dried off. “The water looks amazing, I’ll have to go in with you next time.”

“It was good. Especially after the long flight. You should take a dip with me next time. After all, this is all about relaxing.” You sip your drink, relaxing a little more as you finally settle into your vacation. After sitting in the sun and having some food poolside, you and Marcus make your way back to the room. “You want to shower first? I’ll take longer since I need to do my hair.” You offer, looking out the window at the sky and ocean as the sun lowers.

“Sure.” Marcus has been sporting a semi all fucking day and before he goes crazy, he needs to jerk off. You aren’t here to fulfill his sexual needs and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable when he just walks around with a fucking hard on all day, which is what will happen if he doesn’t rub one out. “That sounds great. I’ll try to make it quick.”

When he shuts the door behind him to the bathroom, you rub your cheek. “Shit.” You hiss to yourself, knowing that this is going to be a long trip if you’re constantly wet for the man you consider to be your friend and partner, you can’t afford to cross the line.

Marcus quickly turns on the shower, stripping down and cursing when he steps inside the large glass and porcelain tiled stall. The cooler water isn’t helping the way that his half hard cock thickens and hardens more as he thinks about how you looked in your bikini. He hisses and spits into his hand, bracing a hand on the wall while he wraps his hand around himself and starts to stroke his length.

You try to distract yourself from thoughts of Marcus in the shower but you fail, breathing a little heavier than normal as you imagine the water streaming down his back. “Fuck.” You sit down, covering your face as you try to remind yourself that things would go tragically wrong if you tried to act on your lust. With a sigh, you lean back against the loveseat and just try to relax but when Marcus comes out, just wrapped in a towel, your resolve almost crumbles. You bite your lip, curling your fingers into fists as you constantly remind yourself that you can’t be with him, certainly can’t sleep with him.

“Sorry.” Marcus flushes slightly and tosses you an embarrassed grin. “I forgot to get some clothes before I got in the shower.” He admits, water sliding down his chest. “But you take your time and then we’ll go get something to eat, sound good?”

You nod, pushing past him to get into the bathroom. You release the breath you’ve been holding as you lock the door behind you. Shit, you just wanted to rip that towel off of him. Pushing those thoughts aside, you turn the shower on and prepare for dinner. After doing your hair and makeup, you make your way into the bedroom to grab the clothes you set on the side, keeping the towel wrapped around you. You should’ve taken the clothes in with you but you didn’t want to steam them up. “Sorry.” You murmur to Marcus before ducking back into the bathroom to get ready.

It’s gonna be a long fucking week. The idea that you were naked under your towel makes his spent cock twitch again. His own clothes are island casual, taken from a trip he had made to the Bahamas with Julia for their last anniversary but maybe you’ll drag him shopping. Loose linen pants with loafer and a short sleeved button down shirt, he was opting for comfort with a little style. Hopefully he won’t embarrass you.

You come out of the bathroom in the summer dress you had chosen before the debacle of the wedding. It’s white and flowing and gives just enough skin without being too much. When you see Marcus, your breath catches at how handsome he looks, how relaxed he looks. You want to see it more often. “You look good.” You tell him as you reach for your sandals.

Marcus swallows and stands, brushing his hands down the front of his pants, “not nearly good enough to be going out with you.” He praises, watching you slide the sandals on and lift your ankle up onto the table to buckle them. He wishes he could do that for you, like this is some regency romance where touching a woman’s ankle is thrilling. “You’re…breathtaking.”

You fluster, shaking your head as you look over at him while you lower your foot. “Don’t be silly, Pike. I’m not - your brother-” You try to not think about Brad and it’s easy when Marcus is looking at you like that. Like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You walk over to him to adjust the collar of his shirt, “you look handsome.”

He hates that his brother has beaten down your self confidence. You should know how beautiful you are, inside and out. His hands come up and cover yours where they’ve slid down to rest on his chest. “And you look beautiful.” He insists. “We will be the best looking non-couple at dinner.” He jokes likely, disappointed by the fact that you aren’t a couple.

You pat his chest, “exactly. Come on, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing for a moment until you let go so you can grab your purse.

The two of you make your way out of the room and down the hall. The resort is lovely, fresh plants in large colorful pots, local artwork on the walls. “Do you know which restaurant you want to eat at?” He doesn’t know if you’ve made reservations or if you could just walk up to any of the three on property and be sat.

"There's a booking. I, um, kind of booked a lot for this trip thinking it was - yeah. We have scuba diving and a boat day and - God, I just thought I would do it alone but it's incredible to have you here. We have a reservation." You take his hand to guide him to the restaurant you picked out and you are immediately guided to your table

“We can do whatever you want.” Marcus promises, meaning that. “I want you to enjoy yourself and not even remember what his name is by the time we fly home.” Although tonight, jet lag will probably hit you within the next few hours.

You grin as you sit down at your table, "who are we talking about?" You joke, making Marcus chuckle. 

The server appears several moments later with a bottle of champagne. "Congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Pike, welcome and I hope you are enjoying your stay." You don't correct the server, wanting to enjoy more time pretending to be married to Marcus despite the fact you were supposed to marry his brother.

Marcus grins as the server pops the cork and pours two flutes of champagne. He picks up the flutes and hands one to you and holds up the other as the bottle is being placed in the bucket next to the table. “To my gorgeous wife.” Marcus declares, smirking slightly since you know that you aren’t his wife. “May we enjoy many more years loving each other even more than we do now.”

You fluster, biting your lip as you clink your glass against his, “to my gorgeous husband.” You playfully reply, knowing he’s just playing along for the free stuff you get on a honeymoon but God, it’s stirring up that crush you harbored for years. After sipping the champagne, you and Marcus have a delicious dinner and you share dessert, unable to take your eyes off of him. His ex wife must be mad to let this man go for his asshole of a brother. Since the meals are included, you decide to check out the nightlife, making your way to one of many bars that has music playing.

The music and atmosphere is friendly, welcoming and Marcus keeps his hand on your back as he guides you to the only chair available at the bar. “If we keep this up, we will be drunk in no time.” He leans close to your ear to be heard better, breath washing over your ear.

You squash down the shiver at the way his hot breath hits your ear and you turn to look at him, face so close to his. “Good. We are on vacation.” You remind him, leaning against the bar as you sit down, calling over the bartender. Marcus lets you order first and you smile when he looks at you with those dark brown eyes while the bartender gets your drinks. “I’m happy you decided to take the ticket. I- I was prepared to come here alone but wasn’t ready to face the pity when I explained why I was alone.”

“It’s selfish.” Marcus admits, ducking his head slightly and shooting you a grin. “I didn’t want to listen to the arguing and be roped into it.” He reaches up and touches the edge of one of your earrings, shifting slightly closer. “Also….because I didn’t want you to be alone.” He doesn’t say that he wants to see you happy, that’s a given, but he wants to put a smile on your face if he can. Just grateful you don’t hate him because of Brad.

You smile at Marcus, loving how close he is but you pull back, trying to clear your mind. “I appreciate it, Marcus. You really are such an amazing friend.” You cup his cheek, “I am glad it’s you here with me.”

He’s disappointed when you shift back, for a brief moment he’d wondered if Julia had been right - that you had been attracted to him. Of course that wasn’t true, but he doesn’t let it bother him, at least on the outside. The feelings for you that he nursed are convoluted and confusing and the last thing he wants is for you to do something you will regret. “We’ll see if you feel that way after a week of me snoring.” He teases playfully.

You chuckle, “I doubt even that would make me sick of you.” You tell him honestly, thanking the bartender when he gives you your drinks and you hold your glass up towards Marcus’s again in a silent cheers. You take a sip, feeling buzzed as you look around the bar

“This is amazing though.” Marcus looks around. “You did a fantastic job picking this place. Did you know someone who’s been here or did you just pick a resort?”

You bite your lip, “actually Brad found it. He said someone he knew suggested it…Julia didn’t talk about this place, did she?” You joke, snorting as you lean towards him. “Sorry. I, uh, guess we shouldn’t joke about that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Marcus gives a careless shrug and grins at you. “If we can’t joke about that, what can we joke about?” He asks, lowering his voice slightly.

You nod, “true. Very true.” You sigh, taking a sip of your drink. About three more drinks in, you’re buzzed and leaning against Marcus who now has a seat beside you. “Your brother is an asshole, you know?” Your words are slurred, “I should’ve - it should’ve been you. You’re so sweet and kind and handsome. I agreed to marry the wrong brother.”

Marcus groans, hearing the words that he has secretly wanted but both of you are drunk. “Shhhhhush.” He huffs at you dramatically. “Don’t talk about my asshole brother like that.” He bursts into laughter and leans back on you and sighs. “I wish I met you before Julia. You’re- you- you’re so perfect.”

You lean back to look into his eyes - both beautiful brown eyes - and you can’t help but surge forward to press your lips to his, a moan escaping your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing your partner, your best friend, for the first time ever.

Marcus gives in. He lets himself enjoy the kiss, tasting the alcohol on you Mr tongue and the sweetness that was nothing but you. Long minutes pass with your tongue tangled with his before he gets control of himself. “We- baby, we can’t do this. Not like this.” He’s damn near crying at the fact but he shakes his head. “We’re drunk.”

You giggle, leaning in to kiss his lips again, “so? We are on vacation. You’re sexy. I’m - I want you Marcus. Always have. Please.” You whine, cupping his cheeks as you look into his eyes. “Please.”

“Fuck.” The alcohol doesn’t affect Marcus’s ability to spring an erection and you are begging him to fuck you. “Let me- fuck, sign the bill, baby.” He urges, motioning the bartender over. “We need the check now- she wants sex- so we’re going.” Marcus rushes out.

You giggle when the bartender chuckles, used to frantic men wanting the check to rush off and get laid but he’s never seen anyone as eager as Marcus. You take Marcus’s hand once he’s signed the check and you both rush out of the bar to the elevator. “Fuck. Always wanted you. Always thought you were the sexiest man in the room.” You admit when the door to the elevator closes.

Marcus turns and pushes you up against the wall of the elevator car and cups your cheek. “I’ve wanted you. Ignored it while I was married, tried to tell myself that it would go away but I want you. I just- I don’t want you to regret this, or to think I’m taking advantage.” His voice is slurred slightly but he blinks clearly for a moment. 

You grip his shoulders, “I won’t. I wanted you when you were married but I stayed away. I didn’t - I didn’t want to be a home wrecker. I want you Marcus.” You promise and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sliding against his and you’ve never felt like this before. Your heart pounds in your chest and you are relieved when the door dings for your floor since you are desperate for Marcus after so many years of being in love with him.

It takes so much concentrated effort to pull away from you, making Marcus groan loudly as he pulls away. The doors open and he takes your hand, dragging you from the car and pushing you up against the nearest wall to kiss you again, grinding his hard cock against your hip and sliding his hands down to squeeze your ass. “Fuck baby, you have been driving me crazy.”

You gasp, caressing his shoulders before you drag your nails down his back over his shirt. "You've driven me crazy since the moment we met." You joke breathlessly and he groans, forcing himself to pull away from you to drag you down the hall to your suite. "Fucking honeymoon suite." You giggle, "gonna see some action after all." You tease as Marcus fumbles to open the door. When the light goes green, he pushes the door open and you stumble in, spinning around to press your lips to his again.

God, it’s everything he’s ever wanted. Cupping the back of your head and kissing you like you are the air that he needs to breathe, he kicks the door closed and drops the key onto the door to start guiding you back through the room towards the bed. “Gonna- fuck - lay you out and do everything I’ve ever thought about to you.” He promises, kissing down your jaw and along your neck.

You moan, letting him walk you backwards towards the bed. His hands slide under your dress, pulling on it to drag it above your head and you fluster as he tosses the dress aside, leaving you in your underwear in front of him. “Marcus.” You whimper, working on unbuttoning his shirt.

“Gorgeous.” Fuck, his brother is a moron for thinking that you are less than what he needed. Marcus’s eyes roam over you greedily and he shrugs off the shirt when you unbutton it completely. Lunging forward, he kisses along your shoulder and down your chest before wrapping his lips around your covered nipple through your bra.

You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair, and you whimper as he sucks and bites on your nipple. You reach down to squeeze him through his pants, groaning at how thick he is, and you fumble to open his pants. “Condom?” You rasp, not wanting to stop once you’ve gotten started to get protection. You’re on birth control and you trust Marcus but you want to have the conversation when you’re completely sober. You pull back, shifting to lay down on the bed as he nods and scrambles to find his wash bag where he always keeps condoms.

It’s not that he packed condoms for this trip, he keeps them in his toiletry bag. Ever since he’s been divorced, that is. Unzipping it and tossing out his deodorant with a huff as he rifles through it, he manages to find a foil packet. “Haha!” He chuckles triumphantly, spinning around and rushing back out of the bathroom to show you, only to stop dead. 

Your eyes are closed, and he whispers your name. No answer. “Hey- are you-“ Marcus groans and hangs his head. You’ve fallen asleep. “Well shit.” He grumbles slightly but he drags himself over to the bed and pulls the covers out from under you, making you roll to your side and manages to get you covered up. Apparently sex wasn’t on the table.

****

You groan as you open your eyes, wincing at the sunshine coming in through the gap in the curtains. Your head is pounding and you know you had too much to drink last night. You turn to look at Marcus, his bare back facing you as he snores and you want to reach out and caress his back, trace the moles and freckles. It’s then that you realize you’re in your underwear. “Shit.” You hiss, rubbing your eyes. Trying to remember what happened last night. Did you sleep with him?

When Marcus hears the shower, he knows you are feeling the effects of the drinking last night. He has to pee, but he will wait, not wanting to intrude. Instead he picks up the phone and orders room service. Coffee, juice and coconut water along with some scones and croissants for a light fair. Later on you can tell him what you want for hangover food if you need it.

You dry off, brushing your teeth, and you make your way into the bedroom to find Marcus sitting on the sofa. “Morning.” He smiles at you and you stare at him for a moment, “uh, yeah. Morning.” You murmur, making your way over to your suitcase to get a swimsuit and coverup for today. “Bathroom is free.” You tell him awkwardly.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Marcus feels the tension and stands up. He’s already gotten his own swim trunks out and grabs him. “I’ll just- I ordered some room service, should be here soon. Got some headache medicine on the table.” He offers, moving towards the bathroom.

“Thank you.” You murmur, watching him walk into the bathroom and you change while he showers. You sit on the sofa, desperate to remember if you fucked Marcus last night. You weren’t naked, you don’t feel sore…but maybe he was gentle. You frown, wishing you could remember it all. You had way too much to drink last night so you reach out to grab the water and headache meds Marcus had set down. Even now, he’s ridiculously sweet.

Sighing to himself, Marcus rubs his cheek as he stands in front of the mirror. Deciding to be lazy and not shave like he normally would. “It’s okay.” He mutters to himself. “It’s better this way, that way she doesn’t regret it.” He snorts and shakes his head, remembering how you had told him you’ve always wanted him. “She was drunk, don’t take it to heart.”

You open the door for room service, tipping after they set everything up on the balcony, and you look up as Marcus walks out of the bathroom, dressed in a t-shirt and trunks. "Breakfast is here." You tell him, preparing his coffee just how he likes it.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Marcus smiles as he walks over to you, feeling better after the shower and brushing his teeth. Last night was simply a fluke, too much booze and the result of you wanting to feel wanted because of his dumbass brother. You were partners and friends so he wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did. “I didn’t know if you wanted something heavy, but I knew caffeine was a must.”

“God yes. Coffee is always a must.” You groan, taking a sip of your coffee, “I appreciate it. I, uh, I kind of had a lot to drink last night.” You rub your forehead, “I don’t really remember much about it. What happened?” You ask, wanting to hear if he remembers what happened.

Marcus winces slightly, afraid of that. “Well, we did have a lot to drink and we-“ Marcus takes a sip of coffee to fortify himself. “We made out and you passed out on the bed when I went to get a condom.” He admits.

You hiss, feeling so stupid. You fell asleep before Marcus could even properly touch you. “Oh God. I- I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have - I was drunk and we - your brother - your family - shit. I’m so sorry Marcus.” You tell him, rushing out an apology since you know he wouldn’t be interested in you. It must’ve been the drinks. Thank God you passed out before you could take advantage of the situation, of him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t-“ Immediately reaching out, Marcus squeezes your hand briefly before letting go. “I was a very willing participant, I just- I’m glad that you fell asleep rather than doing something you would have regretted.” He shakes his head and looks down at his coffee. “We’ll blame it on the alcohol and forget it happened, okay?”

He wants to forget it. That stings but you understand, nodding as you squeeze his hand before letting go. “Yeah. It was the alcohol.” You murmur your agreement, turning to look out at the glistening ocean, focusing on the waves instead of the way your heart breaks. Marcus doesn’t want you, it was just a chance to get laid while you were both wasted.

Marcus hates the look on your face, sure that you are thinking about Brad and how you should be married to him, if he weren’t an asshole. “Did you mean it?” Marcus asks suddenly, making you turn back to look at him. “Last night. You said that- before I forget it, I just have to know. You said that it should have been me. That you agreed to marry the wrong brother. That you had always wanted me. Did you mean it?”

You swallow harshly, keeping your eyes fixed on his as the memory of saying that hits you. “Yes. I did. I- It’s always been you Marcus. I shouldn’t have agreed to marry your brother. I - I have always wanted you, always been in love with you. It’s you, Marcus. I’m in love with you.” You confess with a breathless whisper, steeling yourself for the ultimate rejection. You know he just sees you as a partner, as a friend, as an almost sister-in-law.

“Fuck.” Marcus whispers in shock before he stands so quickly the chair nearly topples backwards. He rushes around the small, intimate table and ignores the way your eyes widen so he can cup your cheek. “I told you last night that I’ve always wanted you. That’s true. I had feelings that weren’t right when I was married to Julia, but I ignored them. I love you too, sweetheart.”

You stare at him in shock, unable to believe that he feels the same way. You can’t help but surge forward to press your lips to his, your heart pounding in your chest as you shift to stand up so you can press your entire body against Marcus’s. “I love you.” You whisper against his lips.

Marcus lets out a small, happy giggle. “I love you too.” He whispers back, smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt. “I- I didn’t want you to think that I was taking advantage.” He confesses. “That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you on the plane. Or fuck, at the wedding.”

You caress his cheeks, “I wish you had told me before the wedding. I was calling it off anyway. We have wasted so much time. Dealing with two cheaters instead of being happy together.” You feel awful for agreeing to marry his brother. “I love you.” You can’t stop saying it now that you can actually voice how you feel about him. “Can we have a do over of last night?” You ask, sliding your hands down to his chest.

Instead of answering, Marcus slides his hands down to your hips and leans in slowly. Watching your eyes and giving you time to back out. There’s no mistaking your meaning and he wants this. Both of you are sober and know what you're doing and his cock is already getting hard at the mere idea of getting to touch you.

When his lips touch yours, the heat that you vaguely recall from last night reignites and you press your lips harder against his. Your tongue sliding against his as he slowly walks you back into the suite and towards the bedroom. You reach for the hem of his shirt, laughing at the way he pulls back so you can pull the shirt over his head. Your lips immediately latch onto his neck while you caress his chest.

“Fuck.” Marcus’s eyes flutter and he slides his hands up under the coverup you are wearing to grab your ass with both hands. “God, you better not fall asleep on me again.” He teases. “Have to jerk off in the bathroom again.”

You chuckle against his skin, kissing along his chest until you can kiss the skin over his thumping heart. “I’m fully awake.” You promise, reaching down to squeeze him through his swimming trunks. “And apparently so are you.” You tease, shifting to kneel down so you can pull his trunks down to his ankles. “Fuck me, Marcus.” You gasp at the sight of his thick cock, not even fully hard. You spit into your palm, reaching out to grip his length and slowly start to pump him.

The groan he lets out is almost painful. The sight of you on your knees in front of him is one that he’s imagined several times and reality beats it by a mile. “Going to.” He jokes, cracking a smile at you as you slowly tug on his cock and make him twitch in your hand. “First- first I’m gonna l-lick your pussy. Make you cum all over my face.” He groans, staring down at you.

You moan at his words, knowing he will do as he says. He never breaks his promises. You want to see him fall apart first so you lean forward, flicking your tongue over the leaking head of his cock before taking it into your mouth, your eyes meeting his as his chest heaves.

“Shit!” Marcus’s hips buck forward, eyes wide at the feel of your mouth on his cock. Moaning your name, his hand comes down to rest on the back of your head. “Oh fuck baby, you don’t- you don’t have to-to do that.” He promises, not wanting you to feel like you have to give him a blow job.

He’s too fucking sweet, telling you you don’t have to suck his cock. You want to. You don’t respond, simply answering his comment by taking him deep into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks while you keep your eyes on his.

His knees nearly buckle, groaning at the pressure of your tongue against his frenulum. “Fuck, shit, shit baby.” He whines, reaching behind you to pull on the string of your bikini top. “I- fuck, sit on my face and suck my cock.” He begs. “Want to touch you. Taste your sweet pussy.”

You reluctantly pull off of his cock, letting your bikini top fall to the floor to expose your tits as you stand up. You untie the bottoms, letting them fall and exposing every inch of your flesh to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck baby, you are so goddamn gorgeous.” Marcus’s cock twitches, adding to his comment and he steps forward and reaches for you. Wanting to feel your nude body pressed against his while he kisses you again and turns the two of you towards the bed.

You gently push him away so he can lay down and you straddle his stomach backwards before shuffling back so you are hovering over his face and his cock is near your mouth.

“Jesus, look at you.” Marcus groans, palming your ass cheeks and spreading them wide so he can look at every inch of your beautiful sex. “Already wet.” He leans in and nips playfully at your ass. “Wanna see how wet you get.” He comments before he ducks his head down and licks a long stripe up from the hood of your clit to your puckered hole.

You cry out against his thigh, thankful you got waxed prior to your wedding day, and you rock back onto his mouth when his tongue is pulled away from your flesh. “Marcus” You beg breathlessly and wrap your fingers  around his cock so you can take him into your mouth once more.

Marcus loves the way that you sound. The noises you make as you grind back on his tongue. He loves eating pussy, doesn’t shy away from it and loves making the woman he’s with feel good. His tongue flicks over your clit before he pushes it inside you, gasping when you wrap your pretty little lips around his cock again.

You moan around his thick cock, jaw stretched as you try to give him as much pleasure as he is giving you. With a whimper, you take him deep as his tongue flicks over your clit several times, making you grind back onto him.

Marcus could die a happy man right now. His nose is pressed almost into you as he licks and sucks on your clit, wanting to see how quickly you can cum from it. He groans, loving how eagerly you are bobbing on his cock. It’s been so long since he’s had a blowjob. He hadn’t really taken any of the one night stands up on their halfhearted offers.

You moan around his cock, close to your own orgasm but you desperately want him to cum down your throat too. “Fuck Marcus.” One particular suck has his cock dropping from your mouth as you moan his name again, cunt fluttering with how close you are. “God. You’re gonna - I’m gonna -” You choke as you cum, clenching around nothing as his lips suck hard on your clit.

Moaning, Marcus works you through it. He keeps the pressure against your clit and sucks like his life depends on it. Holding onto your hips while your slick coats his face and your hole pulses in front of his eyes.

You gasp, thighs shaking as he works you through it until you slump against him, totally relaxed from the pleasure surging through you. “Want - want to ride you.” You murmur, shifting off of him. You reach down to pump his cock, “I’m - I have an IUD. I’m clean. Got tested after I found out after Brad. Thankfully he didn’t give me anything. I want to feel you…if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Fuck yes.” His teeth nearly rattle he’s nodding so hard. “I- I get tested regularly. Last one was a month ago, haven’t slept with anyone since.” He promises you, knowing you would remember his annual physical he had to go for. “Are you sure that you want to ride?” He asks softly, stroking your side.

You nod, shifting to straddle his thighs and you lift up to grip his cock. “I want you Marcus.” You promise him, looking into those eyes, and he swallows harshly as you notch him at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, sink down onto his cock. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of him inside of you and you whimper at the way he stretches you out.

“Oh God.” Marcus moans softly, resisting the urge to rock his hips up. Knowing you might need time to adjust. He’s not overly long but plenty of women say that he’s thick. “Feels perfect baby. God, you feel so good.” His thumbs rub circles on your hips as he stares up at you in wonder, thinking you are the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

You look down at him as he stares at you and he makes you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. “You feel good too.” You finally settle enough to start moving, slowly rocking your hips experimentally and you love the way his mouth opens in an ‘o’ shape. “I love you.” You murmur, bending over to kiss him.

“Love you too.” He gasps out against your lips, his arms coming around you to hold you against him while you roll your hips back and he starts thrusting up. “So fucking- god it was killing me, getting ready to watch you marry him.”

“I - I only agreed to marry him because - because he wanted to marry me. I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t you. I loved him but I wasn’t in love with him. You - I adore you Marcus. I love you. Always have. I kept imagining you being there at the altar waiting for me.” You admit, kissing along his jaw.

“His loss.” He murmurs, turning his head and kissing you. One hand slides up your back to hold the back of your neck while his tongue slides into your mouth to taste you. Smiling against your lips when he pulls back. “You’re way too good for him. For me.”

You pant when his cock hits just right inside of you, a desperate whine escaping your hips. “Fuck baby. No. I’m just right for you. Like you’re right for me. A perfect match. Just us.” You gasp against his jaw when he hits that spot again. “Enough - enough talking about your brother. I want you to- to make me cum.” You demand playfully, breathlessly, as he pushes up into you.

Marcus growls, pushing up and rolling you over to where you are on your back and he is above you. His eyes soften and he looks down at you. “Hey baby.” He coos as he rolls his hips and slides a hand down your thigh to shift it high on his hip. Starting off at a slow pace but quickly getting into a steady rhythm

You cup his cheeks, keeping your eyes focused on his, loving how his eyes sparkle with the love you now know he has for you. “God, you feel so good Marcus.” You caress his cheeks, rocking your hips up while he pushes deep and you are close, so close.

He’s not fucking you right now, he’s making love to you. Reaching up, he takes your hand and threads his fingers through yours and presses them both into the bed near your head while he rocks above you. Panting out your name while he looks at you and ducking his head down every other thrust to kiss you again.

You gasp, loving how deep he gets inside of you, and you whimper his name. “Oh God baby. You’re gonna - I’m - oh shit. Shit.” Your mouth falls open in a silent cry and you tilt your head back as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him as your orgasm warms your entire body.

Marcus kisses along your throat and jaw while you clench down around him. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He hisses, eyes closed because of how tight you are squeezing him. “Perfect.” He groans, pushing into you harder. “Gimme another. Want you- want you to cum again.”

He works you through it, pushing you onto your next orgasm and you moan his name again. “Oh fuck baby. Please baby. I-” You press your lips to his, crossing your ankles behind his back as he continues to thrust into you. “Marcus. I love you.” You choke before you cum again, clamping down on his cock and gripping him impossibly tight.

Marcus groans, his thrusts stuttering as he tries to work you through it again but he can’t. “Love you, love you so much baby. So much.” He is only good for another couple of thrusts before he’s crying out your name and burying his cock deep, filling you up with spurts of his hot cum.

You gasp at the feeling of him filling you up, your fingers tangling in his hair as he fills you up. You close your eyes, just savoring the moment you have dreamed about so many times with Marcus. He grunts into your neck and you sigh, lowering your legs and letting him just stay inside of you. “God, I love you.” You murmur, unable to stop saying it.

“I love you too.” Of course there would have to be serious conversations, questions to be answered but it doesn’t have to be right now. Now he just wants to enjoy you and this for alone with you. “What do you say we take another little nap and then we find some real food?” Marcus hums, smiling at you. “Or do you want to order room service all day? Stay in bed?”

You caress his chest, “is it bad if I say stay in bed and order room service?” You joke, “it’s Christmas Eve. I think we are entitled to enjoy ourselves.” You remind him playfully, pecking his lips. “Let’s spend all day in bed, I still want to suck your cock. Have you cum down my throat. I have a lot of fantasies.”

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Marcus groans and kisses you again. “That sounds like Christmas is cumming early.” He jokes, winking at you for the dirty pun before he reaches up and caresses your cheek. “Baby, I just want to be with you. And I love the idea of us staying in bed. No clothes Christmas Eve.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling but you can’t stop, so pleased to be with him. You never imagined you’d end up with Marcus. Between Julia and Brad, it seemed impossible. “No clothes Christmas.” You joke, kissing his jaw. “Let me clean up and we can nap before we order room service. You’ve exhausted me.” You chuckle, patting his chest so he moves and he pulls out of you with a groan.

Marcus rolls over to his back and he watches you climb out of the bed. Biting his lip on a grin, he swats your ass and laughs when you gasp and squawk at him. “Oh god.” He looks up at the ceiling as you walk into the bathroom. “I can’t believe I’m here right now with you. Like this.” He calls out before he gets up himself to clean up. “It’s like a fucking dream. Or a Christmas miracle.”

“Our Christmas miracle.” You tell him as he enters the bathroom while you turn on the shower. “Shower with me, Pike.” You demand and he nods, “yes ma’am.” You sigh, pulling him close while you wait for the shower to heat up. “If I am ever Mrs. Pike for real, I want to be your wife. I want to be yours.” You murmur, feeling slightly insecure as you look into his eyes.

Marcus breaks out into a happy smile, leaning in and brushing his nose against yours before he cups your cheeks and kisses your lips. “I want that too.” He confesses. “I would make sure you never regretted it.”

“I could never regret you. Never.” You promise, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” You murmur, kissing his jaw. “Let’s shower baby. Then we can nap and order food. Then you can fuck me until it’s Christmas.” You tease, stepping under the now hot water. “Come on baby.” You call to him, tilting your head under the steam.

Marcus hums, stepping into the shoulder and kissing your shoulder. “I have to admit, the very naughty side of me wanted to get the chance to touch you while we were here.” He nips your skin and then licks the area to soothe it. “But I didn’t want to ruin things between us or take advantage of you.” He keeps saying that, but it’s true. It’s already bad enough people will suspect that you’ve been secretly cheating with him or that he did take advantage of your heartbreak. But he could live with that if the alternative is not having you. “So this is just the perfect way things worked out.”

You smile, turning to face him so you can wrap your arms around his neck, grateful for the large rain shower overhead. “You could never take advantage of me, Marcus. You’re too kind. Too considerate. You aren’t - your brother was a selfish asshole. You aren’t. I don’t care what other people say or think, I know what I want. It’s you. It’s always been you.” You promise, leaning in to kiss his jaw.

“Yeah?” Marcus grins and puts his arms around you to brace your back against the tile as he crowds you. “That’s good.” His own kisses scatter over your skin and he groans quietly. “You are so beautiful, baby. Sexy. A goddess.” He praises.

You sigh at his kisses, tilting your head for him to get more access, “Marcus.” You murmur with bliss. “You’re - God, you’re intoxicating. Julia was a fool. A fucking idiot to let you go, but I won’t complain because now I have you and I’m never letting you go.” You caress his shoulders and back as the water slides down his skin.

It’s a fantastic feeling, to be wanted. To be told that you adore him. He’s still recovering from the sex earlier, but that doesn’t stop him from sliding his hand between your thighs, finger starting to slowly swirl around your clit. He wants to learn every part of you. To know what makes you scream. “Love you baby. God, you feel so good.”

You moan at the way his finger rubs your clit, so soft yet his finger gives you enough stimulation to react. “How - how are we ever going to leave this room? I feel like - like a part of me is missing when you aren’t touching me.” You tell him breathlessly, tilting your head up and he takes advantage to kiss along your neck. “I love - love it.” You know he’s still recovering otherwise you’d wrap your fingers around his cock. “Fuck.” You hiss when he rubs harder.

“Good.” Marcus grins against your pulse and scraps his teeth over your skin. “We’re in our ‘honeymoon’ phase.” He teases, since this would have been a honeymoon, but he’s glad it’s not. “Gonna spend the next two days in this room with you, making you cum.” He promises, twisting his wrist and sliding two fingers deep inside you, pushing through his cum and curling up. “Merry Christmas.”

Your gasp echoes against the shower tiles as his fingers push deep, curling, while his thumb rubs your clit. "Fuck Marcus, baby. Mer-Merry Christmas." You choke out, clinging to him as his fingers pump in and out of you. "Oh fuck." You moan, "oh fuck." You reach between you to find his cock hardening, wrapping your fingers around it.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses quietly, his hips jerking forward. “You- fuck, I love your hand around my cock.” He admits breathlessly, pumping his finger into your wet heat faster. “Jesus, I want you again. Already. Acting like I’m 18 again.”

You love it, fucking love how much he wants you. His fingers curl against your g-spot and it makes you cry out. You clamp down on his fingers, your own hand squeezing his cock as you cum, head tilted back against the tiles while you moan his name.

“So pretty, fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” Marcus hums into your skin, kissing behind your ear and finally your lips while he works you through your orgasm. His cock is throbbing now, a result of how much he’s wanted you and not being with anyone in a long time. “Turn around.” He demands, twitching in the still loose hold you have on him. “Wanna fuck you against the wall.”

You spin around, letting him push you up against the tile, and he nudges your ankle to spread your legs. You arch your back and he grips his cock, notching himself at your entrance and he pushes deep inside of you, making you moan softly. You reach behind you to caress his hip, "fuck me Marcus. I want you. Hard."

His forehead presses against your shoulder and he moans at your order. “Fuck.” He has fucked hard before, Julia usually preferred it that way, but he’s eager to see how you react. One arm comes around your sternum as he pulls his hips back and slams them forward, pushing you into the wall from the force.

You cry out when he thrusts deep, his hips hitting your ass and he starts to fuck you hard. You love making love with Marcus but right now, you need him to fuck you and fulfill the burning desire you've had for him for so long. You moan when he squeezes your tits, pinching your nipples as he punches hard into your guts, giving you what you need.

Marcus pants into your ear, grunting with every harsh thrust as the water beats down on his back. “Fuck, you- take it so w-well.” He tells you breathless, squeezing your tits and using them to anchor you against him as he presses close. “Fuck baby. Feel how deep I am?”

You nod, breathless at how hard he's fucking you. "Y-yes. S - so good baby. So fuck-fucking good." You pant out, eyes squeezed shut as he slams into your cunt over and over again. "Fuck, you are so good baby. You're so good."

He lets go of one of your breasts, slapping his hand against the shower tiles. “Fuck, need you to cum.” He growls in your ear, sliding that hand back down to your clit. “I’m gonn- you’re gonna make me cum too quick.”

You moan when his fingers find your clit. “I’ll - I’m - oh fuck. Oh fuck!” You squeal, clamping down on his cock as he rubs your clit and pushes deep to hit something incredible that sends you over the edge. You shake against the cool tile and he groans at how tight you get, trying to thrust and seek his own orgasm.

“Jesus fuck.” Marcus groans, his pace faltering and his thrusts becoming sloppy. Rocking up onto the balls of his feet while he grinds up into you, barely pulling out an inch before he’s pushing back in. “Fuck.” Marcus bites down on your shoulder, stiffening and pumping another wave of his cum into your fluttering cunt.

You moan at the feel of his cum painting your walls, your eyes still closed as a smile appears on your face. It’s more than you could’ve ever asked and it’s Marcus. It’s perfect. “I know I keep saying it…but she was a fool. God, you’re so good, baby.” You reach back to run your fingers through his wet hair.

“I love you.” Marcus hums, kissing the teeth marks he left in your skin and kissing up your neck. “It’s good that they aren’t in the picture. We can be happy together and they can do whatever makes them happy.”

“Yes. I want to be together when we get back, no matter what people say. I’m not giving you up.” You turn your head to awkwardly kiss him but you don’t care, sighing into his mouth. “I don’t want to - are we - would you say boyfriend and girlfriend?” It seems juvenile when you feel so strongly for Marcus.

“For now.” Marcus smiles as he kisses you again. “Give it a little time before we announce that we are going to be planning another wedding to make you a Pike.” As often as he gets overly eager and jumps the gun, he doesn’t feel like he is now. Not when you are on the same page as he is. “We are definitely romantically entangled.”

“Lovers.” You coo teasingly after he pulls out of you and makes you moan at the loss. 

He chuckles, “lovers. Best friends. Partners. Soon to be married.” 

You cup his cheek and kiss his lips, “I like the sound of that.” You murmur, kissing him again before you both decide to wash up properly. Marcus grabs the body wash to start cleaning you up, making you groan when his fingers dig into your flesh.

“After this, I say we order some more food and climb back into bed.” Marcus suggests, smiling at the prospect of spending Christmas Eve in bed with you. “I did bring your Christmas present with me, hoping it would cheer you up.”

“I- shit. I don’t have yours, I didn’t - I thought-” 

Marcus cuts you off, “you didn’t know I was going to gate crash your vacation.” He reminds you and you nod. 

“I know. I - I’ll give you a Christmas blowjob.” You joke, making him chuckle. After showering, you order your room service and you are wearing the hotel robes when the doorbell rings for your room. “That was quick.” You frown, “can you get that baby? I’m just gonna change.”

Marcus is practically whistling as he strolls over to the door and reaches for it. “The service is qui- Brad?” His compliment dies on his lips as he sees his brother standing in the doorway. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands, fully aware of his lack of clothing except for the robe. 

Your eyes widen at hearing your ex fiancés name coming from Marcus’s lips and you tie your robe back up as you make your way to the door. “What the fuck are you doing here? In my fiancée’s room? In fucking Hawaii?” Brad demands, wanting to know what the fuck is going on but he already knows judging by the robes. 

“Ex fiancée.” You hiss, still furious with him.

Marcus doesn’t regret being with you, but he hates that Brad has found out this way. “I should have fucking known.” Brad sneers, shaking his head. “Of course you used this as an opportunity to crawl into bed with her. You took advantage, like you always do.” 

Marcus huffs, “no, I didn’t. I came to help my friend and partner heal from being cheated on by her fiancé. I didn’t take advantage of anything.”

You shake your head, “what the hell are you doing here? Marcus decided to join me on this trip as my friend, he didn’t come here to seduce me. I - I have slept with him because - because I’m in love with him. I’ve always been in love with him. I agreed to marry you because you were the next best thing. It’s always been Marcus.” You know those words will cut deep but it’s true and you won’t deny it, not now, not after what Brad has done. “I didn’t even look at Marcus as more than a friend when he was married and when we were together. We were just friends but that changed now that we are both single.”

Brad’s face drops and his eyes widen slightly. “Baby- come on, it was just a mistake.” He reaches for you and Marcus shifts slightly to intercept him but you are already flinching back. “I just- I was nervous and she took advantage of that.” He murmurs, placing the blame squarely on Julia and glaring at his brother. “Just like my so-called brother.” He hisses. “Thanks for looking out for me.” He spits sarcastically.

“Hey.” You place your hand on Marcus’s chest as you lean around him. “Marcus didn’t make the first move, I did. And it was mutual. No one cheated, no one lied. We are two single people enjoying our vacation together…now as a couple. Brad, what are you even doing here? Planning to get me back? I could never be with you. First of all, I love Marcus. I’m in love with him. Second, you cheated. You fucked up. I was going to marry you. I agreed to it and then I found out about Julia. Fucking your brother’s ex wife. Really putting your family first.”

“Baby please.” Julia had kicked him to the curb as soon as his parents got done tearing him a new asshole and telling him that he was not only going to pay back every dime of the money that Andrew was going to pay your father for the wedding, but he could expect to be less than pleased with his inheritance when the time comes unless he changes his ways. He has nothing right now and he needs you back, his parents love you. “I - I did fuck up, but it made me realize how much I love you. You really want to do this? Be with Marcus?” He huffs, always finding himself to the better of the two men. “He’s only fucking you to get back at me for fucking his ex-wife.”

His words hit for a second, maybe doubting if Marcus truly loves you, but you remember the way he’s touched you and you know it’s real. “I don’t love you anymore. You killed my love for you the moment I saw those messages on your iPad. Please Brad. Leave me alone. Leave Marcus alone. Let us be together and don’t blame your brother, he’s done nothing wrong. It’s you who ruined us. It’s your fault and I don’t want to be with you. I’m with Marcus.”

Brad’s pleas with you not working, he turns to Marcus. “You’re going to do this to mom and dad? You’re going to split the family up. We’ll never be around for the holidays together if you do this.” 

Marcus chuckles, aware of his brother’s manipulation tactics. “You are the one that is choosing that. I can take a lie detector test and say without an ounce of doubt that I never cheated on Julia or touched your ex-finacée while you two were together.” He tells Brad. “You are the one who can’t say the same. You did fuck up. You cheated on the most wonderful woman on the planet, for a woman who obviously dumped your ass. By the way, did you like the strap? She was always pissed I wouldn’t let her do it.” Marcus asks with a smirk on his face, aware that his brother sees himself as a macho type. There was nothing wrong with pegging if it's your thing, but he wouldn’t want people knowing about it. 

Brad’s face falls and he blushes a deep red, making you bite your lip to smother your giggle at his suddenly flustered face. “I, uh, I don’t - we - she - uh, fuck. Fuck you Marcus. I’ll make sure you are isolated from the family for holidays. I won’t take this defeat.” Brad growls, the redness still there. 

“Defeat? Fucking hell, Bradley. We are over. Marcus and I got together after you cheated on me. It’s over. Get over it and accept the consequences of your actions. Now, if you don’t mind, Marcus and I are waiting on room service. Perhaps you can find another woman in this hotel willing to fuck you for Christmas.”

Marcus closes the door on the angry face of his brother, mouth open with some smart assed retort, but he doesn’t give him the satisfaction of getting the last word in. “Fuck.” Marcus huffs. “I knew he was an asshole, but he really expected you to get back together with him after cheating on you? I should have kicked his ass at the wedding.”

“Fuck him. He just flew all the way out here to try and get me back and thought that I’d be putting up with that bullshit because he flew all the way here. No. We aren’t dealing with that. He can fuck off. I love you.” You cup his cheeks, “I don’t want him. I want you.” You promise, looking into his eyes.

“I want you too.” Marcus promises sincerely. “I’m not doing this to get back at Julia. I don’t care what she’s doing, we are divorced. I’m disappointed in my brother, but my sense of caring for what she does ended the day I got divorced.”

“I know, baby.” You lean in to kiss him softly. “I know you and I know you’re here because you love me. I want you to be mine. Forever. One day at a time but that’s what I want. Now, let’s forget that asshole and celebrate Christmas.” You smile, placing your palm over his heart.

****

“Merry Christmas.” Marcus hums, kissing the back of your neck and tugging you closer to him where you are snuggled up in bed together. After his brother left, the two of you had gotten your room service and spent the day exactly as you had planned. Naked Christmas Eve. Making Marcus fall even more in love with you with every kiss and word of affection you exchanged. Now, he’s holding the woman that he loves and it’s Christmas morning, he’s excited to give you the gift he had brought for you.

You smile, turning in his arms and you throw your leg over his hip, “Merry Christmas, baby.” You coo, kissing him. This is the best Christmas you’ve ever had. You kiss along his jaw, “God, I love you.” You murmur, knowing how you felt about him before is intensified with the way he is looking at you now.

“Love you too.” Marcus lazily kisses you, the kiss of a man who has all the time in the world. It’s passionate, but he doesn’t let it turn heated, knowing he wants to give you the gift. “Let me give you the present I brought you, baby.” He sends you a wink. “Besides myself of course, you’ve already got that.”

You sit up, watching him as he makes his way over to his suitcase, and you are eager to open the present. “I didn’t get anything for you since you crashed my honeymoon.” You joke, watching him dig around the case. “A Christmas blowjob will have to suffice.”

Snorting, Marcus looks over his shoulder. “I will never turn down a blowjob.” He tells you before he turns back to pull out the small, beautifully wrapped box. He had to pay the little kiosk at the mall to wrap it since his wrapping skills suck but he’s happy that it didn’t get too badly crushed in his luggage. “Here it is.” He grins like a little boy as he dives back into the bed to excitedly give you the gift.

You look down at the wrapping, fingering the edge of the paper for a moment before you carefully open the present, exposing the box. You open the box, gasping at the beautiful pendant with the letter ‘P’ on the chain. You caress the pendant and look up at Marcus, “it’s beautiful, baby. ‘P’ for Pike?” You guess.

“Yeah.” He bites his lip, wondering if you hate it now since it was supposed to be a ‘welcome to the family’ gift. “I just- I like the idea of you wearing it now as kind of a reminder.” He murmurs softly, looking from the necklace up to your eyes. “One day your name will be Pike.”

A grin appears on your face at the way he declares you’ll be a Pike one day. “Unless your parents adopt me…” You tease, shifting closer to him. “I can’t wait to change my name to Pike. I love you baby, one day…I can’t wait to be your wife.” You promise, knowing you’re more certain about being his wife than you ever were to be Brad’s. “I love it. I love you.” You lean in to kiss Marcus to thank him.

“I love you too.” Marcus grins, pressing his lips to yours. “Merry Christmas baby.” It’s probably the best Christmas he’s ever had. Between the canceled wedding, crashing your solo honeymoon trip and finding out that you are just as in love with him as he is with you, Marcus Pike has his Christmas miracle.

[delicatedevils]

𝐇𝐔𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓 : 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘;

❝ ... Well I think I've gone mad, isn't that so sad? What a shame you lost a brain you never had ... ❞

hudson frost (cismale, he/him) is twenty-nine, has been in blue harbor for approximately three weeks and currently resides in weaver ridge. He works as a bartender at the vault and kind of looks a lot like drew starkey. People around town would describe him to be +honest and +adventurous, but also -sarcastic and -temperamental.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒;

Full Name: Hudson Caleb Frost

Age: 29

Date Of Birth: 15 September 1995

Zodiac: Virgo

Parents: Steven Frost and Michelle Dixon

Siblings: Two older siblings

Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Bartender at The Vault

Languages: English

Positive: Candid, adventurous, daring, confident

Negative: Sarcastic, temperamental, stubborn, deceitful

CONNECTIONS | PINTEREST

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘; (TW drugs, violence)

Hudson Frost was born into an almost underwhelmingly normal family, in a completely normal neighbourhood in Kentucky, with two perfect, stuffy older siblings. His mother was a primary school teacher, his father a bank teller. Anyone who observed the Frost family from the outside would have concluded that they had all the makings of a perfect family; yet Hudson was unmoored. A wildcard from the day he was born.

He wasn’t a troubled child, but his parents used to say to all of their equally normal friends and colleagues that he emerged from the womb with an attitude, and that attitude stuck with him all through adolescence (often getting him into fights, much to the abhorrence and tired frustration of his mother). He was a nightmare in classes, being a nuisance and making smart mouth comments wherever possible. After his fourth expulsion, Hudson's parents were at a loss. What were they supposed to do about the kid who seemed hellbent on bringing embarrassment to the Frost family? Boarding school seemed to be the only option, but freedom from the constraints of his family only enabled Hudson further. To the school's credit, they were persistent in steering him towards a good path laid out with a good future (helped by the investment his parents were making to keep him there) however, they too reached a tolerance limit. He was finally kicked out at sixteen, and Hudson's parents washed their hands of their wayward child. And that's when his life began.

By his early twenties, Hudson had seen pretty much every corner of America there was to see; he did enough odd jobs to keep himself alive and made sure to never stay in one place too long. To be tethered was the equivalent of death. He revelled in being a twenty-something with no real skills or prospects. As long as the money was coming and the parties were good. It seemed only natural that Hudson would eventually fall into the recreational-drug-user-turned dealer pipeline. How could he not? It paid better than any yard cleaning job, and was considerably less work for him. As it turned out, For someone who appeared so unapproachable, Hudson had a certain charm to him that he could use to his advantage if he needed to. Somehow, people seemed drawn to his chronically lazy nonchalance; would they be the lucky one to make Hudson Frost express a real emotion? He was happy to sell the idea if it helped sell the product. Employee of the month, eat your heart out.

As his clientele grew, so did his confidence, which festered into arrogance, into sloppiness. He started short-changing his clients, even stealing from them sometimes, if he thought he could get away with it. How would they know? Hudson didn't see it as an issue, but smart business. His reckless abandon failed to inform him that he might be putting himself into danger. Until it hit him over the head. Literally. Waking up in a Los Angeles hospital with three broken ribs, broken jaw and shattered collarbone knocked some sense into him, but not without a strong warning. You owe us, or next time you're dead.

Scared straight just enough to leave town, Hudson sought out the most inconspicuous-without-wanting-to-stab-his-eyes-out-boring place he could think of to lay low: Illinois. And so here he is, freshly arrived with a bullshit resume, a poorly devised cover story and a deep pit in his stomach that's telling him, now you've started running, you can never stop.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒;

TBC!

[japhgura]

The Zanpakutō Arc is my favourite arc of the anime. 

Really weird pick, I know. But when I saw it for the first time when I was much younger I loved all the cool spirits, I’ve always been super in love with the concept of Zanpakutō and getting a look into what the spirits are for everyone was so cool.  

When I rewatched the Arc, I realized that I still very much love the arc, but for different reasons. Namely, the Antagonist, Muramasa. I love his motives, how he goes about stuff and his character. He might be my favourite character in all of Bleach and this is a filler arc. 

But as much as I realized my love for the antagonist, I noticed that the stories of the Zanpakutō Spirits, as well as the designs and what they’re like seemed... Very lacklustre. I get that it’s filler and character development or anything isn’t allowed but.. oof. 

This turned out rather long so the rest is under the cut, including Kazeshini mini-makeover!

So one day, I wanna rewrite that Arc and give it as much love as it deserves. Kind of a passion project that would take a shit ton of work, but the end product would be something I could not only enjoy and share, but look back on fondly for a very long time. 

When/if I do that there’s a few things I wanna do for it. 

We’re gonna play by AEIWAM (by @gallusrostromegallus, go look at the tag) rules.  

Bleach without mods is very hard to play after having experienced Aeiwam and I can’t go back anymore.

This would very much be just me joining the bandwagon of creators playing in Gallus’ sandbox of wonder, but Aeiwam is what got me back into Bleach and the world building is too gooddddd. So, Zanpakutō Arc would once again be more of a filler (though Gallus if you find anything in it that you like please feel free to pick and choose if I ever manage to write this) 

The Spirits need some serious make overs. 

 While some designs are cool, others are kind of uninspired and really do feel like filler. Some of the personalities are stereotypes pretending to be characters. The whole Haineko, Tobiume, Hyōrinmaru love triangle was kinda weird imho. Stuff like, just put a bit more autistic special interest spice in it, make it more funky. Spend actual quality time on the Zanpakutō spirits, their appearance, their characters and their relationships. Have more funky things like Itegumo the Avalanche (Courtesy of @gallusrostromegalus). Spirits like Hōzukimaru and Ruriirokujaku would are prime candidates f.E.

3. Muramasa deserves better.

For real. Did not deserve to turn into glitter after breaking himself over and over for his Shinigami. Absolute Love and Loyalty met with nothing but hatred. The guy stabbed him and broke the sword and Muramasa was still nothing but loyal.

Fun Fact: Maegawa's first appearance was in a story we later called Zanpakutō Stories: Stockholm Syndrome. Very good time.

Her powers were made specifically to be able to save him from death by getting the hollows out of him without hurting him.

Her name is a bit of a wordplay. Asahi, the morning sun of a new day. And especially Maegawa. Muramasa expresses multiple times to his Shinigami to leave behind the past and look forward. To move forward. Together.

Maegawa, roughly translated: forward river. Pretty on the nose, but I couldn't resist

Actual cool stories between Zanpakutō and Shinigami.  

The conclusion of almost all sub stories between Shinigami and Sword Spirits was kind of a let down. The arc started strong in that regard, but then everyone broke swords left and right and they fixed it at the end with Mayuri Special Clown Magic. The premise of losing your powers forever if you kill your Zanpakutō Spirit was very cool but eventually ignored and even subverted by the Shinigami starting to purposefully destroying the swords halfway through.  

It would be a lot cooler if instead of just defeating them in battle everyone has to properly engage their Zanpakutō spirit and work out whatever gripes Muramasa has drawn out and strengthened. 

In that same vein, here’s an example I was pondering for this arc. A prime suspect of both ?? Design and very very unsatisfying story conclusion: 

Kazeshini 

The design was always really out of left field for me. A rude, battle-hungry being of slaughter with random cloth for decency and a vaguely scythe like haircut. 

...And that’s... Shūhei’s Zanpakutō spirit? Shūhei from the 9th? Who doesn’t particularly enjoy bloodshed, is always ready to help others out and though trying to be edgy is actually very much a goof? That Shūhei?  

That never really clicked with me. 

I mean maybe it’s implied violent tendencies or some random blood thirst deep down but I never felt like we really had any proof for that with Shūhei himself. Though it might’ve very well have gone r/whoosh. I struggle retaining all the information sometimes.

But then I had a fun little thought. 

At his very core, I feel like Hisagi is someone whose just intrinsically helpful. He wants to help, to do whatever he can and to prove himself to others. 

He puts on a tough front and some people fall for it, but he’s actually extremely kind-hearted and a very hard worker. 

Why would his Zanpakutō spirit not share that trait? The trait that’s at his very core.  

Slaughter Demon Kazeshini is a front. A tough looking exterior from a Zanpakutō spirit that really just wants to help its Shinigami with all its heart. 

The moment I saw Shūhei’s Shikai for the first time I actually had to think of Naruto for a moment. And when I pondered what those scythes might actually look like my thoughts returned to that thought: Kamaitachi.  

("Kamaitachi" (鎌鼬) from the Kyōka Hyaku Monogatari by Masasumi Ryūkansaijin)

Kamaitachi are yōkai that resemble weasels with scythe-like front claws riding on dust storms. Now the version I’ve sketched is a ferret because I can’t keep my wiggly guys apart apparently, but also has the scythes more ferret-forearm-area. But Kamaitachi were the inspiration. 

So this little guy is giddy as all hells when the Shikai first happens. Finally he can help his shinigami!! He’ll do his best and they’ll be so cool together and- 

Shūhei looks at his blades in a mix of shock and repulsion. “They look like they reap life itself” 

He hates his shikai. 

Kazeshini is distraught. Why..? Why the hatred for their blades? Fear? He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know _how to help_. But he wants to help! He needs to help! 

And then he gets an idea.

He needs Shūhei to hate _him_. Not the blades. He needs Shūhei to be stubborn, to use these blades and become stronger.  

So Kazeshini comes up with a plan. Shūhei doesn’t know his true form yet. He hasn’t seen the little ferret trying so hard to be a sword spirit he can rely on. And then Kazeshini does what he learned from Shūhei.  

He puts on a front.  

And that front is the rude Slaughter Demon Kazeshini, who never fails to infuriate Shūhei, to infuriate him to want to become stronger. To get Shūhei to show him that his blades can be used for more than death. 

Their Zanpakutō Arc story would be this little communication disaster falling in on itself and Shūhei finally seeing Kazeshini for what he really is and coming to terms with the blades (and himself in a way)

(The initial idea was that Kazeshini sees Hisagi's hatred for a part of himself (Hisagi hating Hisagi I mean) made manifest in the blades and decides to redirect Hisagi's hatred against his own soul toward itself to protect him, but since Zanpakutō spirits in Aeiwam work a little different I thought I'll need that overhaul that a little hehe)

But yeah, there we have it. This has been steeping in my brain soup for a very long time. But I really need to finish Maegawa Backstory before I start anything else haha

[khaleesiofalicante]

You know what would make you feel better!

Did you read Cassandra Clare’s newsletter Better-er in Black?

It’s hilarious and an April’s fools joke but man I’d love to read some of those! 😂😂

Feel better love! -Bri

If you didn’t get it here’s a copy!

Hi readers! Spring is truly here, and along with it I have an announcement I think you’ll enjoy. As you know, I recently revealed the ten romantic relationships that will form the basis of the ten stories in Better In Black, a collection themed around love and romance. Since that post I’ve been veritably drowned in a sea of requests for other relationships to get their own stories. So rather than the originally planned ten stories, I will somehow be producing, while writing the first Wicked Powers at the same time, twelve extra stories, which will be compiled in a lengthy blog post called Better-er In Black.

Below find the relationships for the previously unannounced stories, as well as a brief summary. I’ve tried to capture the ones that had the highest demand, so apologies if your favorite didn’t make it.

Thule!Jace/Thule!Clary

A short while after the defeat of Valentine, Thule!Clary begins her Shadowhunter training with Thule!Jace, but their romance, finally allowed to truly blossom, means neither of them can keep their mind on fencing for very long. Note that at this point in the story Thule hasn’t actually diverged from the main world of the Shadowhunter books, so the text here is exactly identical to Chapter Two of City of Fallen Angels. However, the word THULE has been stamped on every page in bright red letters, to remind you.

Lightwoods/Blackthorns

In 1412, as a result of an epic, high-stakes beef stew cook-off, eight Lightwoods and nine Blackthorns gathered in East Sussex, at the site of the Battle of Hastings, where in 1066 William defeated the English king to secure the Norman Conquest of England, for a truly massive orgy. This…is that orgy.

Magnus/Abraham Lincoln

In 1858, Magnus Bane travels to Springfield, Illinois to help his friend, lawyer and future President Abraham Lincoln, prepare for his series of upcoming debates with rival candidate Stephen Douglas. He buys Abraham Lincoln a comically tall top hat, and somehow Abraham Lincoln pulls it off. As their debate prep grows more intense, they eventually fall into one another’s arms, and the fire of their love will tear the roof from the Illinois State House. Possibly literally.

Valentine/Valentine

One day while shaving, Valentine catches sight of himself in the mirror, and is utterly struck with his own beauty. That jawline! Those cheekbones! Valentine can barely look away as the figure within the mirror raises one eyebrow enticingly. He catches the other man’s gaze and stares him down. He dares him to look away first, but neither of them will break eye contact. Truly, Valentine has never before known the kind of respect and desire he feels for this hot blond man before him. Eventually, Jocelyn comes upstairs when he doesn’t appear for breakfast and finds him sloppily open-mouth-kissing the mirror. She tactfully doesn’t ask any questions and hurries him out of there. Unfortunately, he doesn’t remember, and she doesn’t notice, that he has only shaved the left half of his face. Havoc ensues among the Circle.

Kraig/Kraig’s Retirement Party

When Kraig’s parents unexpectedly visit him in London for the weekend, it turns out he has been pretending to them to be in a serious long-term relationship, and when they arrive they’ll surely find out he’s single. Now the attendees of his retirement party must pretend to be his polycule to fool his parents. But who can say what the fake romance might demand Kraig and his retirement party do to keep the deception going? And what the results might reveal of feelings long held secret….

Asmodeus/Astaroth/Azazel/Belial/Belphegor/Leviathan/Mammon/Sammael

The scene immediately following the epilogue of Lost Book of the White. I don’t really get why people are always asking for this one, guys, it’s gonna be super gross. I guess, as the old fandom saying goes, “You ask for the tentacles, you get the tentacles.”

Jude/Cardan

I mean what’s she going to do, sue me?

Luke/Fassandra Flare

In an alternate universe, Jocelyn is away on a ten-year-long mission to Antarctica. One day a red-haired writer of fantasy for teens and adults named Fassandra shows up at the New York Institute and guess what? She is the best Shadowhunter of them all, and wows the rest of our heroes with her incredible skills at sword fighting, knowledge of demons, motorcycle riding, witty banter, mixing poisons, performing autopsies, singing, and skateboarding. Jace wants to smooch her, but is rejected because he is too young by, like, decades. Luke loves her, but sadly before they can kiss he holds a signing event for her at his bookstore and is trampled to death by people looking for pens, since Luke forgot to provide any.

Reginald

Prospective marriage partners from across the globe come to take an audience with Reginald and propose to him a romance that would be known for eternity, a legendary love that would write its name in stars across the sky. He rejects them all and eventually falls asleep in a picnic basket.

AU!Simon/Isabelle

A no-magic AU in which Simon is a plain, mousy, shy college student in the Pacific Northwest who meets dashing, dangerous billionaire entrepreneur Isabelle Lightwood. Sparks fly when Isabelle’s past brings unexpected darkness to their affair. I had this idea one night after falling asleep in front of something on streaming, I can’t remember what it was.

Cortana/Excalibur

It may seem glamorous, but it’s hard being of the same steel and temper of Joyeuse and Durendal! The life of a legendary magic sword is just go, go, go, busy, busy, busy, and nobody could possibly understand…or could they? A chance meeting on the battlefield brings together two swords who couldn’t be more different—until they start to realize how much they have in common, such as having been forged in faery fire by Wayland the Smith and also constantly being used to stab people. Taylor Swift songfic.

Ragnor Fell/Batman

I’ve just always thought they would get along.

Happy April 1st!

- Cassie

I did see this and IT WAS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER.

Also, this is such a passive aggressive fuck you to all the people who bullied her about the pairings lmao.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

Maresuke Nogi was always his own toughest critic. Emperor Meiji trusted him and appointed him to high military posts in Japan: general in the imperial army, governor-general of Taiwan. But we all make mistakes, and Nogi’s lapses gnawed at him. Twice he requested the emperor’s leave to commit ritual suicide. Each time, the emperor refused. In Nogi’s home, now a quiet shrine in a Tokyo meadow, you can see pictures of Nogi reading the newspaper on September 13, 1912, the morning of his boss’s funeral. No one was left to stop him. Near the photo you can see the sword he used later that day to disembowel himself.

I raise the example of General Nogi to encourage present-day leaders (military, political, educational) to take a much more modest step. They should offer to resign—often, and both in times of trouble and in times of calm. This weekend, the president of the University of Pennsylvania, Liz Magill, did the honorable thing, and the chair of Penn’s board, Scott Bok, followed his kōhai’s example shortly after. Magill resigned because she, along with Harvard President Claudine Gay and MIT President Sally Kornbluth, performed abysmally under questioning in Congress. Their inquisitor, upstate New York’s Elise Stefanik, a Republican, asked them whether chanting genocidal slogans violated their universities’ policies. It depends on the context, they all said, on the advice of counsel and the worst PR teams money can buy. Within days, Magill and Gay conceded that their answers had not been ideal. Gay is facing calls for her resignation, too.

Resign. Resign. Everyone: resign. Resignation has come to mean failure, something one does when cornered, caught dead to rights, incapable of continuing for even another day. It should be an act of honor—a high point in a career of service. It isn’t shameful. It is noble. It is the first and sometimes only step in the expiation of shame, and (ironically) the ultimate sign of one’s fitness for office.

No one demonstrates the value of these traits better than those who lack them entirely. I thought of Nogi’s katana, flashing from its scabbard, last week when the House voted to expel George Santos, Stefanik’s colleague in New York’s Republican delegation. The House almost never kicks anyone out, mainly because those facing expulsion have in the past tended to resign rather than weather the indignity of an expulsion vote. Santos is taking his ouster well and posting prolifically on TikTok. A psychologically normal person would have resigned the instant his tower of lies showed signs of wobbling. To let it crash down, then dance around the rubble of that tower until the orderlies arrive and pull you away, is truly mad behavior, and a demonstration of unfitness for the job, or indeed any job other than TikTok star.

I cannot prove this, but I believe the tendency to stick it out rather than resign started roughly when Representative Anthony Weiner (New York again, this time a Democrat) called a press conference to discuss whether he had, in fact, tweeted a picture of his penis, tumescent in his underwear. He could have just quit, and eventually he did (but lived to humiliate himself another day). But that pause to hold a press conference broke the seal on something dangerous, the idea that one can talk one’s way through a mortification. To take the podium and subject oneself to hostile questioning under those circumstances bespoke a delusionary chutzpah.

It soon became clear that anyone socially defective enough to persist through a scandal has a good chance of surviving it. By the time then-candidate Donald Trump (Republican, guess where) appeared on the Access Hollywood tape, describing his hobby of sexually assaulting women, it ceased to be obvious that at some point one should tap out and go home. If you have no shame, and you refuse to go, there might not be anyone out there who can make you. Mechanisms exist, as the Santos case shows. But the mechanisms were devised to govern people from another time, sensitive to ridicule and guffaws.

One should be ready for criticism, both earned and unearned. But resignation—more precisely, the offer of resignation—is an expression of confidence, both in oneself and in one’s employers or constituents. A board can reject a resignation. Voters can turn out in the streets to beg you to reconsider, or can turn out at the ballot to vote you back in. In fact, the more defensible one’s position, the greater esteem we should show for the one who offers to leave it. Call this the Nogi rule.

Harvard’s Claudine Gay evidently believed that she’d erred, because she reverted immediately to damage-control mode after leaving Washington. The next day, she told the Crimson that her testimony did not represent “my truth”—that is, that she disapproves of genocidal anti-Semitism. (This is an extreme example of the political axiom “If you’re explaining, you’re losing.”) Her original answer before Congress lacked any visceral disapproval of anti-Semitism, certainly none to match Harvard’s recent record of condemning speech deemed offensive to historically disadvantaged groups. Her affect was robotic, neutral. She showed no signs of concern at all.

But her neutrality was born of an honorable principle, well worth defending. It reflected the values of free expression in a modern interpretation of the First Amendment, under which anyone can say just about any foolish thing, as long as saying it isn’t about to cause someone else to break the law. If the “context” of a genocidal chant is a nonviolent rally, the university shouldn’t stop anyone from chanting. (It should examine its soul. But that is another matter.) If the context is a crowd of protesters with bricks in hand, running at a group of Jews, the university should expel or fire every demonstrator there, whether armed with a brick or a bullhorn. All three presidents should have said this, then added a note of contrition over their universities’ failure to uphold these principles of free expression in the past.

But I’ll say it again: Gay should resign. To offer her neck to Harvard’s Board of Overseers would show her confidence that its members, like Emperor Meiji, would see past her error and ask her to endure in her position. It would also demonstrate her willingness to own that error, to acknowledge it publicly and unselfishly. Maybe the board would accept her resignation, and maybe it would not. Either of these fates is better than the one she is courting. At the moment she is trying to wriggle out of her error, and clinging to her job as if her dignity depended on keeping it. Better to teach by example that the reverse is often true, that dignity depends on leaving a job—and that staying suggests that one has nothing else, once it is gone.

The greatest legacy a resignation leaves is the creation of a culture of resignation. One institution that, up until now, has had such a culture is the Israeli defense establishment. A few weeks ago, I spoke with a former Mossad official who assured me that the entire leadership of the Mossad and the Israel Defense Forces would, as soon as the Gaza war reached a satisfactory pause, resign from their positions. They would do so, he said, because resignation was the only honorable response to their failure to foresee and prevent Hamas’s attack on October 7. Their predecessors did so in 2006, after the very messy war with Hezbollah in southern Lebanon, and after several other episodes of modest failure in Israeli history. That they might stick around, slinking back to their offices as if hoping everyone forgot about their mistakes, would be inconceivable. In this context, one understands better the popular rage against Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, in whom the spirit of General Nogi is extinct: To this day, he is making the case to the Israeli right for his remaining their leader indefinitely.

One can’t get far in politics without a dogged willingness to destroy one’s critics and step on their corpses to reach the next height. But this is a minimal qualification for success, and everyone who attains high office, having climbed up from decades in the Senate or in departmental meetings, has it to an unusual degree. To persist is just to do what comes naturally for these people. To give up at the right moment—that is a quality against type, and a virtue possessed by the greatest of leaders. It is nevertheless available even to those who have hitherto shown no signs of greatness at all. Let it be said of them what is said in Macbeth of the Thane of Cawdor: that nothing became them in public service like the leaving it.

[only-lonely-stars]

A Bride for the Prince (Chapter 3 - Preparations)

[Prologue] // [Chapter 2 of 9] // [Chapter 3 of 9 - you are here!] // [Chapter 4 of 9] – (FFN) (AO3)

Part of the @ninjago-fairy-tale-au!

Summary:

Once upon a time, there lived a faithful and hardworking girl named Pixal Borg, who worked every day to satisfy her demanding stepmother. For years, she cleaned and cooked, giving no argument, until the day came when she met the prince. A Pixane Cinderella retelling.

Chapter summary:

The ladies of the Borg estate prepare to attend the festival, and Pixal gets creative.

As the king's festival drew closer to hand, the Borg household was thrown into a flurry of excitement and activity, such that there was no rest for anyone, especially Pixal.

Amaryllis was swept up in the excitement of the coming days. She sent for the best tailors, cobblers, jewelry makers, and more, so they might flatter her daughters with their work. Over the days, each came in his or her own turn to their estate, laden with tools and materials. They practiced their crafts with ease, creating beautiful gowns for Begonia and Columbine, which matched gorgeous new shoes and lovely jewelry. Bedecked in beautiful fabrics and jewels in such number, the two of them paraded around with aloofness, as if they were simply "nice." To Pixal in particular, they flaunted all their finery, in hopes of making her envious.

Amaryllis encouraged her daughters to ask after Prince Zane as if they were royalty, using the prestige of the Borg name to make themselves worthy candidates of his affection. One of her daughters was bound to catch the prince's eye eventually, and she would spare no expense in achieving such a goal, if only to raise one of them to royalty.

As they prepared and pranced, Pixal went about her days with little concern for them, doing her best to ignore their antics as tamp down any envy. However, she too was thrown into a flurry of work, and the excitement seized her too. The work they created in their excitement was such that her books were soon to collect dust, and she was displeased with such a possibility, but her mind wandered to possible ways to enjoy the festival herself. With such a thought in mind, she worked as quickly as she could, using her ever-growing vocabulary of spells to help her whenever her family could not see her. Her clip in particular was used copiously, to do immense amounts of laundry and clean rooms in half the time it would have taken her.

Eventually, however, the excitement got the better of Pixal as well, and she began to dream about the festival in greater amound. Only a couple of days away, it was to be a three-day affair of enormous proportion, only one hour's travel from the Borg estate. It was rumored that there would be games and shopping, and that the prince himself would be participating in each day's jousting tournament. He would take the favor of some lady and parade it high, so all the kingdom might see that he had taken interest in a woman to be his princess. Pixal thought it sounded almost foolish, as the prince would likely take a favour from every possible candidate, but nevertheless her heart beat quickly at the thought.

The day before the first festival day, Pixal built up her courage and sought out Amaryllis in the estate's gardens.

"Stepmother?" she asked.

At the sound of her voice, Amaryllis turned to her and frowned in distaste. "What is it, Pixal? Why are you disturbing me?"

"I have a request." Pixal folded her hands and nestled them in the folds of her skirt, intent on appearing meek. "I would like to go to the festival with you."

Her stepmother looked her up and down, appraising and disdainful. "You want to go to the festival. Do you even have anything to wear?"

"I do."

"It is not rags, is it? You must try to have a little dignity, Pixal."

"I do not only wear rags!" Pixal protested. "I have a dress to wear."

Her stepmother looked unimpressed. "Very well, then. If you are to go to the festival with us, you must prove that you deserve to attend. I will not have some dirty servant girl parading the Borg name through the mud."

"How must I do that?" Pixal asked, trepidation making her stomach churn.

"As you go about your day, you must do it without being touched by a single speck of dust. No member of my household may embarrass me with a poor appearance. If you are at all dirty, you may not attend with us. Go, clean yourself up. If you cannot do that, you cannot go."

Pixal agreed and left her stepmother's presence quickly. When she could, she washed herself carefully, scouring the dirt from her fingernails and the dust from her hair. Then she donned her cleanest day dress and continued with her day. Unfortunately, as she worked, she encountered her sisters.

"Pixal, there you are! I need my necklace polished," Begonia simpered. "It has corroded, see? You must use your strongest, blackest polish." She put the dirty necklace into Pixal's hand.

"Pixal the maid makes herself known! What an opportune time," Columbine crowed. "I need you to clean my bedroom. It's filthy!" She shoved a dusty, dirty shift into Pixal's other hand.

Pixal sighed. "I cannot do these things today. I need to stay clean, or Stepmother will not bring me with to the festival."

"That sounds like a problem for you to handle," Columbine said.

"We could always tell Mother that you aren't doing any work at all," Begonia threatened.

"What would she think if she heard that? So selfish."

"You had better do it!"

Pixal sighed again, wishing to every power above that she was not put in this situation, but unable to protest. "Very well..."

So she went and did as they had told her. Her hands became blackened with polish, and she could not clean it away from under her fingernails. As she cleaned, she became covered in dust, which she was unable to completely sweep away. The evening approached, and she only grew ever dirtier, having no time to clean herself up before the next task that was thrown upon her by her stepsisters. Her hope diminished every hour, but finally she found a time to slip away in private, right before her stepmother was to inspect her.

In the washroom, Pixal took out her hairclip. She had saved its uses that day, in hopes that she could do this. She took a deep breath. "Salva me in opere… make me as clean as snow."

Within moments, the clip began to glow, and an apparition came forth from it. It cleaned her and her clothing, and when it was done, one would think she was royalty if not for her plain dress and hair. She examined herself in the looking glass and smiled. Surely her mother could not find fault in her magically clean looks. Though Amaryllis hated her, she could not deny her this.

When Amaryllis saw Pixal, she frowned deeply, and for a moment, Pixal thought she had done it. Amaryllis examined Pixal very closely, but found nothing, searching even the smallest things. When she was done, she shook her head. "I see that you were very careful. You are perfectly clean. However, since you are, you were no doubt also lazy, to be so untouched. A lazy girl cannot come with us to the festival– I would be shamed!"

Pixal stared at her in shock. "I was not lazy, Stepmother! I polished Begonia's necklace and I cleaned Columbine's room, plus all my usual chores! I did everything asked of me!"

"None of Begonia's necklaces needed polishing, Pixal. Even if you did, your hands would have been blackened! I see no polish on you." Amaryllis glared at her. "Furthermore, Columbine's room is always clean. If you had been told to clean it, would you not be covered in dust? You must not have done that either."

Pixal fumbled for an explanation. "I scrubbed my hands and changed my clothes, Stepmother. I was very careful!"

Her stepmother looked at her in unmasked exasperation. "I'm sure you did. You will not be coming with us. This conversation is over."

-----

The next morning, Amaryllis, Begonia, and Columbine all left for the festival. Each was decked in finery– lovely dresses, jewelry, and shoes, each brand new. They laughed as they prepared, and the two sisters twirled and flounced their skirts, sure that they would catch some noble eye, if not the prince himself, and marry into riches and luxury. Both came to Pixal in turn and taunted her before piling into their carriage, jeering.

"It's such a shame you can't join us, Pixal. You could have met the prince!"

"Really, it truly is. I can't imagine how dreadfully boring it will be here, home alone."

"Meanwhile, we will be meeting Prince Zane and sweeping him off his feet."

"More like he will be sweeping me off mine!"

"He won't pay attention to you! I'll be his favorite!"

Still bickering, Begonia and Columbine climbed into the carriage. Amaryllis hung back for a moment, and Pixal's skin crawled. "Perhaps if you were more industrious, you could come," Amaryllis said lowly, and then she entered. Then they were off, and Pixal was left alone at the estate.

Pixal sighed as she watched them go. Deep in her heart, she knew there was no way they would have let her come, anyway. She would not be able to go with their knowledge or approval...however, she knew a way she might go to the festival without them. If she did, she might have some fun; she would be free for a day, would she not? With that dream in mind, she went back to her basement room.

When she arrived, she pried open the loose wall board and took out her purple dress and shoes, which she had received when her father gave her the clip. She donned them carefully, gingerly clasping the bodice around her stays. Just as she had hoped, they still fit her perfectly, and were in the same condition she had received them. Happily, she spun around, watching the skirt twirl out.

With her first difficulty solved, Pixal began to ponder the second. Her family would not notice if she did not clean for one day, but she had to be able to leave, or it was pointless. Thus, she needed a solution. As she pondered her situation, she wandered the estate. She passed by the road outside, and then an idea struck her.

Ten minutes later, with a spell tome in her hand, Pixal came back to the road. She opened the tome to a specific page, and then pulled some kitchen herbs from her pocket. She placed them on the ground and began to recite a spell from her book, carefully checking the pronunciation before she did so. "Ut me ad requireris..."

Immediately, the herbs began to smoke green and blue, creating a plume that rose high into the sky. It sparkled with magical energy, glowing slightly. It seemed as if all else around it became slightly darker, but it did not trouble her. With a deep breath, Pixal closed her tome, pocketed the extra herbs, and walked into the column of smoke.

-----

When Pixal next opened her eyes, the smoke was gone. She stood in a small clearing, behind some sort of stall. She took a few steps forward and looked around. Sure enough, she was at the festival! Her spell had worked!

She ran back to behind the stall and put the cloth over her book, nestling it in a little hollow with some more herbs. If it stayed hidden all day, she would be able to return easily. The festival was waiting for her, and she would spend all day, knowing her family would not return until long after nightfall.

Having set her course of action, Pixal turned to face the road. Her family may have denied her, but Pixal would be attending the festival despite them. For the first time in a very long time, she would have some time for fun on her own– freedom was hers for the day, and she could do whatever she wished, if she only knew where to start.

-----

Ut me ad requireris = "Take me to the festival."

[artzychic27]

Please, I beg you: put the Coven Box in Scarlet Beetle and ikati Black! It’s just too good!

Alright, let’s see…

Maison Kurtzberg is dead

Nathaniel discovers the Coven Box in his room on the anniversary of his death, finds out he’s 1/64th warlock, and that his father was Scarlet Warlock, beloved underground hero of Paris until his untimely passing

With Maison now gone and seeing that Nathaniel has come of age, he is now the Guardian of the Coven Box and next in line to become the next Scarlet Warlock

Of course, Nathaniel’s freaking out, becuase how can he possibly live up to the standard his dad set?!

But the Kwamis assure him he’ll do well when the time comes

A week before the start of school, Nathaniel comes across an old man who introduces himself as Wang Fu, the Guardian of the Chinese Miracle Box

He has Nathaniel follow him to the massage parlor and warns him about the Butterfly Miraculous being discovered and used for evil purposes by an unknown user

He explains that the Ladybug Miraculous can be used to purify Akumas, but it needs a worthy holder and need to be balanced out by a holder worthy of the Black Cat Miraculous

So, naturally, he wants Nathaniel to choose someone

Nathaniel: WHAT?!

Master Fu: Yes, I trust your judgment.

Nathaniel: You just met me five minutes ago. How do you know I’m not some psycho?

Master Fu: You would’ve incapacitated me and ran off with the other Miraculous.

Nathaniel: … True. Okay, I’ll choose someone.

When the first day of school arrives, Nathaniel is terrified, because he’s worried he’ll choose the wrong holder and doom Paris once the Butterfly holder sends out an Akuma

So, Loki gives him a hand. After transforming into Nostradamus, he gets a glimpse into a limited number of possible futures, showing different people in his class with the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous

And, the best possible future is the one where Kim has the Ladybug and Max has the Black Cat

So, he’s got his answer

It works out well, they defeat Stoneheart… Then more Stonehearts appear, but they’re frozen, so that’s good!… The. Ivan gets Akumatized again and leads his Stoneheart army

After calming Nathaniel down and assuring him he made the right choice, Screech prompts him to transform into Scarlet Warlock and aide Scarlet Beetle and Ikati Black

He amplifies their powers, allowing Scarlet Beetle to create non-physical lucky charms such as a bright light to blind the Stoneheart army, and allows Ikati Black to destroy whatever he commands, and makes the ground crack under the Stoneheart army’s feet, trapping them in a deep hole

The Butterfly villain makes their appearance through a bunch of Akumas, introducing themself as Malachite (Malachite is a species of butterfly)

After Scarlet Beetle purifies the Akumas and defeats Stoneheart, Scarlet Warlock makes himself known to the other heroes

Of course, they’re freaking out, becuase there’s a new incarnation of the previous Scarlet Warlock

He informs them that he chose them to wield the Miraculous and that he’s the new Guardian of the Coven Box. Whenever they need backup, they can let him know until Master Fu is ready to make himself known

So, meanwhile, Nathaniel is scoping out possible holders for each Miraculous. He takes one Kwami with him to school so they can get a better look at those with potential

Here are the candidates

Lunaa: Aurore, Marinette, DJ

Faate: Reshma, Sabrina, Jean

Wiisp: Jean, Myléne,

Lokii: Juleka, Gerard

Slypph: Simon, Alya

Jabb: Denise, Ivan, Mindy, Spinelli

Hoppy: Lacey, Rose, Lotta, Adrien

Hiss: Ismael, Sabrina

Snapp: Marc, Austin T, Gia

Tazz: Zoé, Nino

Cammo: Cosette, Juleka,

Faawn: Mireille, Victoria

It’s not long before the media eventually catches wind of the new Scarlet Warlock, and now he’s being swarmed by reporters questioning if he’ll ever be able to live up to the previous hero, which pisses Nathaniel off a bit

While Scarlet Beetle and Ikati Black help take some of the attention off of him, there are still some nosy people

When a new Akuma arrives, Scarlet Beetle and Ikati Black realize they need a new ally, and Scarlet Warlock has the perfect choice

They meet Lady Nevermore, the Raven Heroine who’s able to defeat the unpredictable Akuma using her power to see into the future

And surprise, surprise, it’s Juleka!

She’s actually had a suspicion Nathaniel is Scarlet Warlock and it was confirmed when she caught him transforming. Of course, she let him know and gave him his word she wouldn’t tell anyone since she knows the consequence

It eas at that moment, Lokii found their holder

Meanwhile, in his civilian life, Nathaniel’s become quite enamored with a certain writer but has no idea how to go about it since Marc is clearly out of his league and probably has dozens of guys after him

Let this be a lesson. Even gorgeous people can be super antisocial introverts

Also, he’s been meeting with Master Fu on weekends to learn how to become better acquainted with the Coven Box. According to legend, Miracle Boxes part of a bloodline can form a connection with the Guardians, but as it gets passed down, that connection needs to be formed again to build familiarity

Soon, Nathaniel is able to turn to pages written by previous Scarlet Warlocks (And one Witch), which were locked by the Coven Box

And the best part… SPELLS! They kind of got the same vibe as Eclipsa’s spells, but they’re totally safe… Yeah, they are

Nathaniel doesn’t really have a reason to use them as Scarlet Warlock, but it’s pretty cool to know how to use magic

As more creative Akumas show up, Scarlet Warlock calls in more allies for Scarlet Beetle and Ikati Black- Scorpix, Pack Leader, Spotlight, Charmer, Nocturno, Killer Croc, Jane Doe, Wydowna, Kero, Sarcophia, Trioceros

They’re allowed to keep their Miraculous, but only transform when the situation calls for them so that so many Miraculous aren’t out all at once. It gives the users time to train themselves a little bit more, too

[abigailspinach]

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/27/magazine/pete-buttigieg-interview-election-democrats.html

Tear down obstacles — I mean, the obstacle many would say was President Biden himself. A new New York Times/Siena poll shows that over 80 percent of voters are happy that Biden dropped out. Clearly voters were hungering for something different. Why did the party ignore that desire for change for so long? I think this is something the party was wrestling with for a long time. And then the president wrestled with it personally. And then he did something that is world-historically rare, for not just the leader of a country, but the most powerful person in the world to lay power aside.

CNN reported that there haven’t been any full cabinet meetings since late last year, so I don’t know how often you were meeting with President Biden himself, but as a surrogate, did you not have any questions or doubts about his abilities? The last time I was working with President Biden really closely was during a disaster a few months ago. I’m reminding myself I’m not supposed to appear in my official capacity, so I won’t delve into that. But look, nobody’s denying that he’s 10 years older than he was 10 years ago. The point is that he’s really good at being president and in my view still is.You have framed this as, he sacrificed for his country, that this was a noble act. But the reality was that he was facing sliding polling numbers and a defection of donors and members of his party. He could have made that choice weeks ago, giving Vice President Harris or any eventual nominee a much longer runway and time to defeat Donald Trump. And he didn’t do it. Did he wait too long? One of the things you sign up for when you go into politics, and certainly when you’re in high office, is everybody else telling you what you should have done. And we can all say he should have done this, or he should have done the same thing but a different time, or should have done it in a different way. But the fact stands that he did an extraordinary thing.

But it wasn’t unfair. Well, certain dimensions I think were unfair. For example, the fact that in a given day, you might have almost identical flubbing of names by the two major candidates, but only one of them would have that plastered in certain people’s commentary.

They’re calling her a D.E.I. hire. And worse stuff that I don’t want to repeat. And I just wonder, as a surrogate, how you combat that? Well, I do think that those attacks have been a bad look for Republicans. And you can tell because, when you’ve got somebody like Mike Johnson, who is a very, very conservative figure, the speaker of the House, telling his own caucus, hey, cool it, he’s basically saying that they are embarrassing the party, and I think acknowledging that they are diminishing the party’s chances by indulging in that kind of rhetoric. The fact that they can’t think of what else to do besides go right to race and gender isn’t just revealing about some of the ugliest undercurrents in today’s Republican Party. It’s also just profoundly unimaginative, because it means that they can’t speak to how any of this is going to make people’s lives better. In other words, they can’t conceive of a politics that isn’t just about the personalities. And their inability to explain how your life as an American every day will be any different, certainly any better, is revealed in the fact that they immediately reach for one of two things, saying she’s too far left, which is what literally every Republican says about literally any Democrat who is running against the Republicans. If Joe Manchin were the nominee, they’d say the same thing about him. It’s just standard and therefore boring. Or these really ugly attacks, which maybe are meant to get attention, but they are very much telling on themselves when they go there.

 I am thinking about how you see your role right now, because while Biden rarely talked to the press, you not only engage with people like me, but you also go to Fox News. And I am wondering why you do that. Because I know that there are so many people who tune in in good faith. I don’t always feel that the corporation that runs Fox News is acting in good faith, but I know that the viewers might be tuning in in good faith and getting their information from this news source. So I, as a political figure, can hardly blame a voter for not being responsive to our message if they literally have never heard it. And we’re in a very fragmented environment. Honestly, we’re lucky if we can get to somebody through TV, versus just even more fragmented internet sources. And I know that if I’m on that network, I’m one of relatively few voices with our message, and so if I didn’t go there to give that message, somebody might never hear it. I also know that you cannot assume who somebody is or how they’re going to vote just based on what network they watch. Of course, there are a lot of strong patterns, but there are a lot of people who can be moved. And sometimes the person who picked the channel is not the same as the other person who’s also in the house, listening to what’s being said. Sometimes when you explain what you believe to somebody, even if they don’t completely agree with you, they respect you more, and are inclined to maybe trust you and give you the benefit of the doubt. So that’s why I’m there.

[not-sriracha]

As Dartboard made their way through the maze, eventually a polaroid caught their eye, the steps they were retracing leading them directly over it. Surely it wasn’t meant for them, a former occupant of the maze likely having dropped it. But when they leaned forward to pick it up, it became very clear…this had been left for them. 

The polaroid is a candid photo of Dartboard and Greer from at most a year ago, the pair out at some sort of party or another, looking friendlier than their public relationship would have people expecting. 

The House of Mirrors is, astonishingly, one of Dartboard’s favorite attractions. Memories of his childhood which still linger in the recesses of his mind, untouched by the cruel, crumpling grasp of degeneration, remind him how the warped shapes of him and his mâe made him laugh. It’s this nostalgia which has him enter the attraction, and immediately his present-day self, no longer a curious child but an experience-hardened veteran, cases the joint. 

The building is stout, and the mirrors reach to the ceiling, encapsulating him in a room of a hundred selves. Such disorienting imagery would be a daunting task, but Dartboard has the spatial recognition of what a House of Mirrors entails. Mazes, essentially, are a corridor made of two walls. Follow one wall, and you’ll at least cut down on mistakes. Taking the proverbial crooked path, he starts left. His boots align to the boundaries of the left wall, letting his shoulder graze on the mirror while he passes through. 

Intuition helps along as well. Dartboard suspects that the corners will lead to dead ends, so while counting his steps, he averages the distance between his paces and concludes when he’s in too deep. Then he withdraws, pivoting to his other shoulder to stay on the same wall, and returns to the crossroads where he takes the other path. In his “adventure,” he hears others calling out in the distance, lost in the maze, and wonders if there’s staff on hand to lead them out. Luckily for him, he hasn’t run into anyone, hasn’t had to stop.

Until now. On the path certainly headed for the exit, rests a polaroid photo. Usually Dartboard would leave such things behind, not interested in adding “thief” among the labels ascribed onto his person, but the appearance of the object draws his interest. Not to humble-brag, but it’s clear no one else has made it this far in the period of time it’s taken Surachai. While he walks by it, he allows himself to check, and when he does, he immediately plucks it off the ground so fast his nails scratch the floor.

“What in the fuck.” Dartboard mutters, thumbprint indenting the polaroid, a teaser of the sheer force he’s holding back. He recognizes the photo has to be from his junior year, Greer’s sophomore. So, whoever this person is, they know or knows of someone who’s been watching Dartboard for over a year now. He stuffs the photo into his jacket’s inner pocket, and as Surachai makes it out of the exit, a dark chuckle also leaves his throat. He thanks his dark blessing.

Nietzsche wrote, If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. Dartboard has. He’s accepted it all, and in destroying his outer self, Fate granted him privacy away from vapid society. He’s even grown to like it, this little world of his. The polaroid is no threat. Unbeknownst to them, they’ve given Dartboard the best gift. Consciousness of an enemy. Whoever is watching him better beware. He’ll cut out their probing eyes. And if they’re the one who made Greer disappear, Dartboard will enjoy it, too.

[mwsa-member]

The Art of War Plus The Art of Politics: Strategy for Campaigns: Special 10th Anniversary Edition by Shawn R. Frost, Sun Tzu, Gary Gagliardi (translator)

MWSA Review Pending  

Author's Synopsis

A winning playbook ten years in the making!

Why did we write this book? After avoiding political involvement for decades, I got frustrated and had an axe to grind and needed a practical guide to winning in politics for non-political-science-majors. That book didn’t exist, so we wrote it.

We first published much of this book in 2014 before Shawn's SUCCESSFUL run for School Board. He defeated a two-term incumbent, named Disney, who was the President of the State School Board Association. When Frost beat Disney by almost 10 points, local journalist Russ Lemmon referred to it as a "Shocking" victory and spent several column inches of front page real estate speculating on how a first time candidate beat a powerhouse named Disney. We knew it boiled down to two words: Better Strategy.

Reasons to buy this book: You want to WIN

"All of Politics is Local, but the science of strategy (winning) is universal and timeless."- Political Sun Tzu™

You want to sharpen the most powerful weapon in any contest, the human mind.

If your opponent reads this book, and you don't, it's over for your campaign

You want to follow in the path of a consultant with an almost 94% win rate over 5 cycles

Here’s what’s different about this book: This builds on The Art of War plus the Art of Politics: Strategy for Campaigns by Gagliardi and Frost (2014) by adding an epilogue by Frost "10 years on the front lines of politics and the culture wars", Political Sun Tzu Key Concepts throughout, and End of Chapter Summaries to highlight key points from the past 10 years on the political battlefield and hard-won lessons.

This book is two books in one: on the left hand page is Gary Gagliardi's award winning translation of Sun Tzu's Bing Fa (Chinese) as The Art of War (English) and the facing page is the political interpretation. Much of this book was first published as “Sun Tzu’s Art of War plus the Art of Politics: Strategy for Campaigns” Feb 10, 2014, ISBN: 9781929194728

Does this book even work? Yes, it absolutely does. When we wrote this book, I hadn’t even been a candidate, let alone an award-winning political consultant and campaign educator and it delivered massive wins for me and our clients. This is the guidebook used to help shape the political landscape in Florida since 2014. The primary author, Shawn R. Frost, has used this book to get bills passed, candidates elected, and help launch political committees and movements.

The updates in this Special 10th Anniversary Edition add to that winning formula.

Frost's former clients, friends and colleagues regularly appear on FoxNews, NewsMax, OANN, Daily Wire, CNN, MSNBC, and in print everywhere. He considers himself to be a slightly smarter version of Forrest Gump in that he has had a front row seat to history. All because he mastered the mindset and skills contained in this book, and the courses at Science of Strategy Institute and he practiced and refined them at his consulting firm, MVP Strategy and Policy LLC.

That's the thing about good strategy, it is universal in its effectiveness and timeless in its influence.

We can’t promise you will win 93% of the time like Frost did, but reading this book moves you in the right direction. You will know how to win your campaign, see a loss coming sooner, or win eventually by advancing your strategic position through a winning or losing campaign over time.

Read this book again and again, to sharpen your mind like a sword, until winning becomes an instinct.

NOTE: A nearly identical version of this book was also published as "Political Art of War: Winning Strategy for Local Campaigns" ISBN:979-8883734686 and ASIN: B0CXCCMNMH on Kindle. Readers are advised that these are essentially the same books with minor layout and design variations

Format(s) for review: Paper Only

Review Genre: Nonfiction—How to/Business

Number of Pages: 237

Word Count: 46,194