#i know i have a lot of characters that are supposed to be from the same continuity so it'd be fun to have them together

[mystybelle]

Adding on because I find it relevant-

Knowing which style of world building, or type of storytelling you're doing really, requires knowing what parts of your story are actually important for the purpose of communicating your story the best. Because Art, is communication through aesthetic. And in order to do communicate well, you have to understand what your message is AND what parts of your message are most important before you can decide how to convey them.

The Hard magic vs Soft magic spectrum is a measure of how important the utility of your magic is for solving problems that exist in the narrative. E.g. ATLA's magic is harder than Tolkien's or Lewis' because the characters in ATLA solve a majority of their problems with the power of kung fu magic, and their interpersonal struggles mostly help them learn how to either use martial arts magic better or new ways to employ it. But the fantastic foot-up-your-ass magic is the most important tool. Meanwhile Frodo is a weak hobbit, and his struggle is about whether or not he'll be able to maintain the emotional bandwith to make a horrific trek into the heart of darkness; the rest of the events we see in the book/movie are largely to impress upon us just how much is riding on the mental health of one little guy. Lewis' is slightly harder (barely) because Narnia is ultimately a very christian(colonial) fairy tale, and the wonder of the new and foreign world is the most important part of the story. Even the characters are pretty "soft" in Narnia, because the point is the vibe of the fairytale world, and you're not supposed to care about Snow White's intense psychological anguish at her step mom trying to have her killed because she can't handle being a milf. You're supposed to care about the vibe of the dwarves she's staying with and the overall plot.

Likewise with the worldbuilding-

Narnia gives you a middling amount of detail for it's fantasy world, but it paints in very broad strokes. Because the vibe of the world, the feeling of wonder and awe that unfamiliarity with it provides, is more than the details of Cameroon's culture or borders in contrast with Narnia's.

ATLA's setting is much harder by contrast, because you're explicitly not meant to be a gawking tourist to this world, the viewer is meant to see it through the cast's eyes. A deeply affected member of the world, who is trying to familiarize themselves with it's complexities. The kung fu magic is a part of the complexities of that world in a very fundamental way, so those two things get a lot of details. The show even beats you over the head with the idea by constantly telling you that the Avatar must be connected to the world, verbatim in a few episodes in fact.

LOTR sits somewhere between the two because it's world is... Frankly more fleshed out than it probably needed to be for the sake of it's story. Tolkien wrote his story to make you care about his world, not the other way around. So it's actually probably an awkward example here, but even still! Through the narrative, we're given information about the world within the context that the characters would experience them in order to impress upon us the complexity of the problems they're facing. The world itself provides the challenges, and the solutions come from the mettle of the characters. So we spend more time with the characters and learning about the routes they'll take, the challenges on them, and the sociopolitical structures of the various nations they pass through, than we do learning about the magic.

In order build stories like this, like OP said- you have to do it on purpose, and in order to do it on purpose, you have to know why you take each step that you do.

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[coquettepascal]

felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for. 

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple. 

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich. 

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius. 

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk? 

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help. 

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.” 

Then, he leaves. 

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now, 

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance. 

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise. 

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep. 

“Morpheus,” you speak. 

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit. 

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially. 

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you. 

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt. 

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake. 

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you. 

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly. 

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you. 

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something. 

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals? 

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment. 

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious. 

“To know me?” He clarifies. 

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.” 

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that. 

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically. 

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples. 

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could. 

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too? 

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting. 

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing. 

And so you listen. 

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much. 

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this. 

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies. 

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated. 

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist. 

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly. 

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly. 

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone. 

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy. 

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm. 

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning. 

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her. 

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle. 

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached. 

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself. 

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to. 

However, you can only distance yourself so far. 

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together. 

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe. 

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob. 

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh. 

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife. 

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small. 

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten. 

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal. 

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues. 

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods. 

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye.  You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted. 

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits. 

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again. 

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend. 

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close. 

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more. 

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (2/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, toxic relationship with Alys ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He was only supposed to stay in this town for three days, eat to his heart's content and return by train to one of his flats a few hours away.

Or at least that was his plan.

He didn't know why he was standing outside a nerdy club where, from what he understood, game and board enthusiasts ate popcorn and nachos while sipping drinks.

Admittedly, he worked on a laptop and using a computer made his life a lot easier: he didn't have to show up at the company as he did his tasks remotely, but he was still far from a fan of modern technology.

He felt that it was killing something, although he wasn't sure what.

She told him that she worked there and that he should come visit her on her shift. She said something about drinks with an extra element, which surely was blood, that she wanted to prepare especially for him.

He was unable to grasp neither the full absurdity of the situation nor why he was just standing outside the entrance like an idiot, instead of returning to his quiet, well-ordered life.

To Alys.

He sighed, glancing down at his phone, seeing that she had sent him another two new messages, several missed calls showed that she was starting to get impatient.

He swallowed hard reading the last message, recognising that he didn't feel like letting Alys play with her at all.

He wrote back and tucked the phone into his pocket, running down the stairs to the premises which were twinkling with lots of coloured lights and neon.

As he stepped inside, he immediately heard 80s electronic music – the Depeche Mode track I just can't get enough was pounding from the speakers around him. The club's clientele was mostly very young, dancing in front of large monitors following the instructions of some character, singing karaoke, playing at a PlayStation or bent over large boards, planning the entire game.

"Hi!" He heard a cheerful voice from behind the bar – when he looked there, he saw her and her wide smile, her hair pinned up in a ponytail on top of her head.

He didn't understand why her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of him, and why he felt a pleasant warmth at the thought.

Was he so desperate to be noticed and needed?

He thought he was pathetic, but still his feet carried him further to the counter behind which she stood.

"I'm so glad you're here. Would you like to try the drink I mentioned yesterday?" She asked immediately, while her shift mate started to serve another customer.

He just nodded, for some reason embarrassed and overwhelmed, sitting down on one of the high chairs just off the bar.

He saw that she had gone to the back room and then returned with a bottle in which he was sure there was blood.

He looked around anxiously, but no one took any notice.

"I'm going to make a drink for my friend with rum, ice, cherry and apricot juice." She said aloud, pouring something that was certainly not cherry juice along with the other ingredients into a shaker.

He couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that he didn't see any sign of discomfort or fear on her face that someone would discover what she was doing – on the contrary, she seemed delighted to share her next treat with him again.

Although he didn't admit it out loud, fuck, her blood jellies were so good.

She poured the contents of the container into a nice tall glass and put a cardboard straw in it, placing the whole thing right in front of his face.

"I hope you will like it." She said lightly, immediately moving on to attend to the customer behind him.

He reached for the glass, raised it to his lips and hesitantly took a sip from it. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a smirk of amusement.

It was delicious.

For some reason, being with her made him feel like a human again and maybe that's why he came back.

Maybe that's why he couldn't leave.

"What do you think?" She asked aloud, preparing an order for a second customer, already with completely normal ingredients.

"Very good." He admitted, throwing her a drawn-out, satisfied look.

For some reason, he was smiling.

Her shift ended an hour later so, as per her request, he waited for her at the exit. As she came out of the back room, one of the guys, similar in age to her at least in appearance, clearly drunk, approached her.

"– hi – shit, I know I'm drunk and – you know – but – fuck, will you give me your number? – sorry if I'm imposing –" He mumbled, clearly stressed and filled with emotion.

He saw that this confession had impressed her and did not make her uncomfortable, however, he knew she would refuse.

She, unlike him, was not playing with her food.

"Forgive me, but I already have someone." She said and looked up at him, surprising him completely.

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"– oh – I'm so sorry – I thought –" The boy began to babble, clearly embarrassed, wanting for sure now to erase from her memory what he had said and just disappear.

"– it's okay – you're really sweet –" She assured him warmly and walked past him, throwing him a horrified, apologetic look.

"You already have someone?" He sneered, walking up the stairs at her side, stepping out into the fresh night air at last.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to answer. Don't be mad. Otherwise he'd be getting his hopes up." She said with sincere concern, grabbing his coat sleeve, clearly wanting him to accept her explanation and look at her.

"Nevermind." He said, not knowing what he was doing here.

I should go home, he thought.

"If you want, you can rest in my apartment." He heard her voice and swallowed loudly, thinking that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, but he ended up lying in her bed anyway, with his fangs sunk into her fragrant neck, snuggled into her soft flesh. Her fluffy pyjamas, consisting of trousers and a shirt buttoned up the front, smelled of some pleasant, delicate washing powder.

He had to undo a few buttons to reach the hollow of her neck, or at least that's how he explained it to himself – his hand, as he drank her blood in slow, lazy sips, brushed her plump breast under the material, founding itself there completely by accident.

Every time his thumb, also by accident of course, rubbed her hard nipple, something on the edge of a sigh and a moan left her lips: her body tensed like a string, vulnerable and responsive to his every move.

It occurred to him that what he was doing, as well as the reactions of her own body, were a surprise to her – she was certainly not as experienced in these matters as he was, if at all.

That thought aroused him even more.

When he finally pulled away from her, he wanted to take his hand from under her shirt, but her fingers stopped him, pressing it back against her skin. He sighed as she turned with him, when, trailing her knuckles along his long jaw, this time it was her moist lips that reached his neck.

He licked his mouth and flinched, feeling the dull pain and sting as her fangs dug slowly into his flesh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the softness of her breast under his hand, kneading it gently in his palm, feeling the wonderful, intimate scent of their blood all around them.

Sip after sip she quenched her thirst, cuddling up to him like a small child – he couldn't help the pleasant shiver that ran through his lungs as she threw her leg over his hip, pressing her body against his.

When she finally pulled away from his neck, she laid her head on the pillow right next to his – their lips, chins and cheeks were all sticky with blood. When she leaned towards him, they simply kissed: he grunted with delight, feeling their mingled taste melt on his tongue, and pressed her tighter to himself, clasping his free hand in her hair.

It doesn't mean anything, he repeated to himself, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, rolling with his hips back and forth, rubbing his swollen erection against her lower abdomen.

He was simply tired and she was a break from the monotony of his life.

He would get bored with her quickly, as he did with all the women before her.

He opened his eyes as she pressed her forehead against his, listening to their loud, raspy breaths. He gasped as her fingers ran down his cheek, as the tips of their tongues brushed invitingly, clicking with each lazy lick, sending a delicious, hot shiver down his spine.

It was one of the most perverse sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

He was unable to contain the pleasant, warm feeling that spread through his heart as she combed her fingers through his short hair – to his displeasure, she broke the caress and kissed the tip of his nose.

He was fully hard, but he had no intention of taking more from her than she was willing to give him.

"Why did you come?" She asked in a whisper, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He simply looked at her for a moment, wondering what he should answer.

Why he had actually done it again.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I don't know the answer to that question."

His words did not discourage or sadden her, as she smiled with understanding.

"I see. Rest now. I will too." She said softly.

They both lay on their stomachs, embracing each other with their arms around each other's waists – their foreheads still touched as they both closed their eyes.

For some reason, he wanted to feel her close.

They weren't friends, just some strange kind of lovers, he realized with pain, but he felt a strange discomfort at the thought, indicating that he himself wasn't sure he believed what he was trying to tell himself.

What had he really come for?

What was he expecting?

Was he simply curious about how her drink tasted?

How their night would turn out?

Would he drink her blood again?

Will they have sex?

Will they fall asleep next to each other?

He closed his eyes, recognising that it didn't matter.

For the first time in many years he had fully quenched his hunger.

The thought that this was surely the last night he would spend with her filled him with a strange kind of sadness and regret – he held her close in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually have to tell her that he didn't live here at all.

That he had lied to her.

When she woke up and lifted her head, she saw his face – she smiled sweetly in a way from which he felt a sting in his heart.

Although all sticky with blood, she looked so innocent.

"I lied to you." He said.

She blinked and shook her head, surprised and horrified, her expression one of complete consternation.

"What do you mean?" She muttered.

"I didn't move here. I just came for a while. You know. To eat." He explained, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy.

Why was he scared?

"Oh. I understand. We don't know each other well yet, you had every right to act like that. Don't worry." She said reassuringly, making him feel an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, a wetness under his eyelids that he hadn't felt in years.

What was happening to him?

"There's someone out there waiting for me. And I don't want her to find out about you. It would be dangerous for you. I'm leaving today." He whispered with surprising difficulty, hearing, shocked, that his voice broke at the last sentence.

He saw her eyebrows arch in pain, her nose twitched as her eyes turned red with tears, the request and plea for him to stay written on her face so clearly that she didn't need to say anything.

Instead of stopping him, however, she let him go and pulled away slightly.

"Your friend?" She asked, not looking him in the eye, but at his chest.

He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would cry.

He let his broad, pale hand raise – his fingers ran gently across her cheek in some hopeless attempt to comfort her.

"If I could, I would take you with me." He said with difficulty, hearing, embarrassed, how pathetic it sounded.

She laughed, but it was a chuckle full of sadness and disappointment, from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver.

"Is that how it is with you? Do you play separately and then come back together?" She asked.

He swallowed hard, feeling as if a stone had fallen to the bottom of his stomach, dragging him down.

He felt ashamed at the thought of how accurately she had judged him.

"Go back to her, but don't mention me. I don't need any more problems, much less a jealous woman on my mind." She said, rising from the bed at last, leaving him with emptiness and coldness all around.

"Of course. I'm not going to expose you." He muttered, raising himself up on his elbow, stupefied, feeling like he'd woken up from some deep sleep.

It wasn't real.

"Do you need blood? I can give you a few bags." She said calmly, standing with her back to him, pacing the kitchen as if she were preparing to make herself breakfast.

"No. No need."

The sky outside the window was cloudy, exactly as his thoughts – he was sitting in a train car filled with people, and although he usually struggled to control himself, he felt no hunger.

Her blood satisfied him.

He lowered his gaze, wondering why he didn't feel like he was coming home at all. Usually after such a journey he was tired and discouraged, relieved to return to what was familiar to him. Now, however, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, damp underworld of his heart.

What was really waiting for him there?

He got the answer as soon as he crossed the threshold of his flat.

Alys was waiting for him with candles all around her, which she must have lit beforehand. She looked very good: an elegant knee-length black dress perfectly accentuated her physical assets, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

He didn't know why, but the sight of her made him feel uncomfortable.

Is this how it is with you?

Do you play separately and then come back to each other?

It's not like that, he thought.

It's just that when I go home, she's already waiting for me there.

Always.

"What's that face? Did you kill someone?" She asked with a hint of amusement, rising from the couch, a pretty, ornate goblet filled with blood in her hand.

Fresh blood.

He didn't want to know where she'd gotten it or who'd paid for it.

"No." He replied wearily, putting the keys down on one of the shelves in the corridor.

I don't have the strength for this, he thought.

"I've missed you. This city is so boring when you're not around." She said softly, combing her long nails through his short hair.

He felt an unsettling shudder when she did this: unlike her touch, in which there was first and foremost a desire for comfort, there was pure sexual intent in Alys's.

She wanted to get straight to the point.

He closed his eyes as she embraced him from behind, as her lips placed a kiss on his neck, as her free hand slowly slid down his torso between his thighs. She froze, not finding there what she had clearly expected.

He wasn't hard.

"What's the matter? Aren't you in the mood? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and he sighed, taking her hand from his crotch.

"No." He replied again, pulling his coat off his shoulders.

He felt the atmosphere around them grow thicker, knowing that her momentary silence was not a good sign.

She was preparing to attack.

"Are you in love with some poor human girl again? You'll get over it, as you always do. She'll eventually grow old and die, and you'll come back, seeking comfort from me." She muttered with a kind of certainty in her voice that annoyed him.

"What are you doing in my flat?" He asked dryly, knocking her off guard.

She looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows, increasingly frustrated.

"I came to say hello to you. I was hoping for a warmer welcome." She replied coldly.

Welcome, meaning wild sex full of blood?

"I don't recall inviting you. I want to rest." He said dryly, sidestepping her, feeling some kind of frustration and regret.

Because of you, I had to leave her behind.

She needed me.

But if I had stayed with her, she would have found out what a jealous monster you are.

Alys was able to reconcile with his female human lovers because she knew they would eventually disappear – she herself did not shy away from such excesses, fucking young, handsome boys whenever the opportunity arose.

A female vampire, however, would be a threat to her.

"Ah, yes. You only need me when you cry and miss your mummy. When the remorse and memories of how you killed your father come back. But don't worry. I know you better than you know yourself. Have fun, and when you're done, come and we'll forget this conversation." She said dispassionately and grabbed her coat, putting on her high-heels on the way, leaving his flat with a loud slam of the door.

He rested his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, for some strange reason feeling relieved.

He was alone.

He sat down at his old oak desk and opened his laptop – he sighed heavily as he saw 46 new emails from work, knowing he would have to wade through them all one by one.

He had always loved reading, and over his far too long life he had read so many books that he thought he might be able to make some money from it. He therefore became an editor and translator for a publishing house that released volumes of poetry, but also books on history and philosophy.

He liked this job: he received assignments by email, and could discuss them over the phone. His employers were happy with his work, and his readers praised the fidelity of his translations and revisions, so in the end he managed to live on that alone.

He used an alias and false documents so no one has yet realised that he has been several other people in different countries over the past decade.

He could, of course, like other vampires, simply kill rich people and steal their life savings, however, he knew that in the long run such a life was very miserable: for obvious reasons it is then easier to draw attention to yourself and you still have to hide.

He had enough of that.

Maybe that's why she made such an impression on me, he thought.

She lived as if nothing had happened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling nothing but remorse at the memory of the expression on her face when he told her he was leaving. He didn't understand why those three days had affected him so much, why she, a stranger, had made him doubt himself completely as a person.

Maybe it was because he had touched her even though he shouldn't have: she had no obligations to anyone, he knew, however, that by entering into any kind of intimate relationship with her, he might be exposing her to Alys' wrath – and even though nothing but a kiss had actually happened between them, he had the feeling that they had had sex at least a few times.

This kind of unforced, intense intimacy, this touch full of desire and need for closeness, was so painfully sincere that it went beyond what he was usually familiar with: what he had done was not only out of his physiological needs, but out of something much deeper.

Something more sad, more pathetic, more real.

Some part of him wanted to be human again.

[felicity-worthington]

Why is “Doctor Odyssey” a television show that very cleverly shows the depth of the human condition?

So, I have seen some people say that Doctor Odyssey is fun (especially because of Ody3) but also just a superficial show with no plot and I have to politely disagree. I think this show is the opposite, it's just supposed to look silly and superficial at first glance, as you can see when they repeat the phrase "we constructed a paradise" in the weekly recaps.

It is supposed to look like that, it is the idea of a cruise itself, for a week you escape the real world, you enter a new constructed one, which is supposed to be paradise without problems. But here's the thing, here is why there's a doctor and two nurses on this ship: it's just an idea, it's not real.

We especially see this in the episodes "I Always Cry at Weddings" and "Quackers" and of course in the main storyline of Max, Tristan and Avery navigating their relationship and their constant struggle with what they really want in life.

Let's start with "I always cry at weddings" to deconstruct the idea of superficiality with the weekly funny themes and the show only being silly because it's quite obvious here I think. I mean, a man commits suicide in this episode because he's deeply conflicted about what he really wants out of life and how he thinks there is an incurable darkness within him. And we see him, his bride and his best man as an example of how this construction, this idea of heteronormative happiness is just that for a lot of people: just an idea that doesn't guarantee you happiness, but actually destroys lives (not everyone's, of course). And we start this episode superficially, with a couple about to get married on a cruise, the perfect wedding in perfect paradise. But as the episode progresses, we see the cracks and then it gets very real. The scenes with the groom breaking down in the infirmary, the bride talking to Avery and Max after the suicide and her mother's confession are all absolute tearjerkers in the best way. I mean, watch that scene and then tell me again that this show is just a silly Riverdale for adults:

This is actually one of my favorite scenes of the show because the delivery of the line "we need to help this boy" is just perfect, the actress did an amazing job. Also, the character herself says "she pretended her fears away", which underlines the show's idea that this is a paradise where people should just forget their worries, but actually real life catches up with you no matter where you are, you cannot hide from it.

The other example I was thinking of is the latest episode with the Quackers community, which is super silly in a lot of ways and I love that, don't get me wrong.

And then you have this older couple, the leaders (?) of this community, who seem extremely superficial and silly, I mean, going on cruises to go on a quack treasure hunt? So silly. BUT then the cracks start to show again as one of them, the husband (I don't know what his name was, so I'll just call him the husband and her the wife), shows a serious condition, the compulsive urge to swallow objects. When confronted, the wife literally denies it, unable to face the ugly truth. In her world everything is perfect, she and her husband are on a never-ending treasure hunt on paradise cruises, and when something real, something problematic threatens that, she can't accept it at first. And we see that again later in the episode when she refuses to leave the ship:

She wants to stay in paradise, in denial, on the surface. But that's not possible, you can't ignore real life:

But this is her and her husband's dream, an endless paradise in search of ducks, and it's hard to let go and take a deeper look at life and accept that floating through life is a nice idea and might work for a while, but it can't go on forever:

regarding her husbands condition:

Once again the theme of what we want (superficial) and what is really going on (what is behind the construction of paradise) is mentioned.

All of this, and all of the recurring themes I mentioned, are also at play with the three main characters and their constant struggle with what they really want out of life. In a way, their calling to help people is fulfilled by their professions, but then they keep asking themselves, "Is this enough? Is this what I really want out of life, taking one cruise after another?

The theme of constructed ideas versus what is actually going on is also seen in their throuple situation. Max and Tristan have probably always seen themselves as straight, and now they are getting a deeper look at who they are and what they really want out of life. And that is scary, and it often takes years to deconstruct habits and self-image.

But there is no unnecessary weird teenage drama in this show, it is very real. It is supposed to look superficial, you only have to look a little closer to see that it is not.

So once you deconstruct the idea that this is all superficial, you will see that yes, it is silly, so is life and we need those silly and funny moments in life and in this show, but it is also very, very deeply human in many tragic but also good ways.

[vidavalor]

<<I would also not accept Crowley hate. I just never see it.>>

Same. Yeah, it doesn't exist. A lot of people's internalized issues at work, if you ask me, as to why there's only hate for Aziraphale when there shouldn't be hate for either of them.

<<I think for that to work, you have to take Crowley as the protagonist of the story and Aziraphale as an -- um, adjunct? romantic interest? Rather than seeing them as 2 equal players in the story.>>

If you want to get really technical about it? From a writing standpoint, Aziraphale is the main character because it's his story arc we're following the most throughout the story. He is the character who will under go the most change from chronological start-to-finish in the story. He and Crowley are two halves of a whole, though, so it's a little tricky and they're closer to being co-main-characters than you might get in other stories. Inside the story, though, the characters are definitely equal partners, and I agree that it's irritating to not always see that reflected in attitudes towards the characters.

The funny thing is, though, that people who think Crowley is the sole main character are showing that they don't really know what one is and are just focused on Crowley. For reasons. I wouldn't presume to know why, exactly, but I suspect that they are likely of 'want to fuck him even though he's fictional and subconsciously hate the main character who gets to' variety. Also shows how little they know the character as Crowley would not. care. for it. if he were to learn that they were disparaging his angel.

<<the Edinburgh minisode, that make it look like Aziraphale is still toeing the Heaven line and he is the only one who still (in 1827!) has learned nothing>>

Yeah, that attitude in people is showing that they're not really putting together the minisode, imho. Aziraphale struggling with conflicts of what he's supposed to be according to Heaven versus who he really is are not the same thing as Aziraphale being on the side of Heaven. He's never been on the side of Heaven. He gave away his sword in Eden. He lied and miracled to save Job's kids. He's been badass since the start.

I think it's also a feature of some people not seeing that Aziraphale is kind of dryly bitching about his job to Crowley in 1827 more than he is actually disagreeing with Crowley and Elspeth. He lives on Earth. He knows how lunacy Heaven's ideas about things are. He's complaining to Crowley about what he's up against and getting some reassurance in Crowley's wtf that's crazy! response that he's not alone in thinking so. The moment that he learns that Dalrymple isn't just a ghoul but someone who wants the bodies for greater good reasons, Aziraphale is happy to throw over whatever Heaven nonsense he's supposed to at least pretend to believe to help. He'll always do what he can to help. It's just all very tiresome that people think Crowley is perfect. He's not always right. There also isn't always a "right" at all.

<<such as the way the f15 was shown (many people do not sense any real threat from the Metatron, don't get the "able to see/hear what's happening in the shop", don't see anything weird about Crowley letting Aziraphale go off with the Metatron, etc.>>

Yeah, this... 😂 My favorite wtf interaction that I've had here on the Tumblr Dot Com is the person who told me that Aziraphale and Crowley weren't worried about being spied on in The Final 15 and when I pointed out things like... Aziraphale, looking out the window at Our Villain, doing the downward hands of "not right now" at Crowley, and trying to get him to stop talking? I was told-- kid you not-- that he just turned his head.

The closet is a theme of the season and there's an entire foreshadowing plot with the Nazi Zombie Flesheaters about Crowley and Aziraphale being spied on through the window and people who cannot make simple connections enough to understand what's happening, so... how's that for irony? There's a whole plot about people being unable to make connections... about which this person couldn't make a connection.

I agree to some extent that it's designed to appear a certain way, with particular emphasis on Crowley acting out of character, but it's not so cloak-and-dagger that we can't see that something is amiss. The number of people who don't seem to see Crowley as acting out of character by letting Aziraphale go alone with The Being Claiming To Be The Metatron amazes me. It should be the primary question to come out of that scene. This is what we were saying above, though-- they are too focused on precious demon got his feelings hurt to notice that there is something really, really wrong with precious demon. He just sat there and let Aziraphale go alone with someone who had tried to kill him and he'd never do that of his own free will and that's somehow not the biggest point of discussion?

But this is also the same problem as most people just believing without question that it's The Metatron at the door. Sure, it might be, but they definitely gave us a laundry list of clues that suggest we should at least be questioning it. Five angels cannot recognize him and he has to get a demon to identify him but that's not Satan? Really? After a whole season of "who are you" in every other scene? And all the minisodes being about Hell? Even if it's not, the point is that it's all very weird and many people are just taking what's happening as if nothing is weird, which I find to be... well, weird.

So many people think that The Metatron was legitimately offering Aziraphale a job and everything was on the up-and-up and... why would he ever do that? He'd never offer Crowley to be restored as an angel, either. That'd collapse Heaven and Hell in a day as every demon then would demand their own status as demons reviewed. They think this is The Metatron and they still believe him, even though he just tried to murder Gabriel? I was so surprised to see the number of people who don't think Aziraphale is in any danger here and think he just got promoted when the whole season seems like it's building towards something quite different but we'll see what happens in The Finale.

The gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that's where they believe, in their deepest heart, that they deserve to go. Which they won't do if they don't know about it. This explains why it is so important to shoot missionaries on sight.

Eric, Terry Prachett

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I'm feeling very Little Lies about this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So this is the reason you missed Thanksgiving," a butter knife jabs in your direction as you poke at the white turkey meat; this? You look up then at Lloyd as he nearly chokes. 

"Uh, yeah," he coughs behind his fist and swallows, "we were out of the country..." 

"Yes, why would you bother to stay. No use in seeing your mother at the holidays, or the rest of your family," she reproaches. 

"Mom," he groans. 

"For ten years," William adds from his wife's side. "Now you show your face and you look as if you're eating rotten apples." 

"No," Lloyd argues. "It's just... I'm busy and I don't get a lot of time away from work." 

"We all have obligations," Gwenyth argues. 

"Well, I took her away so I could propose," he explains as he presses his fork into the whipped potatoes. "And it worked out perfect, right? Cause now I can bring her to meet everyone." 

Gwenyth hums flatly, "I suppose." She clicks her tongue and takes a healthy gulp of wine. 

"So, Pixie," Lillian drawls from further down, "what do you do for work? Oh let me guess. A librarian?" 

You don't let the suggestion bother you. You don't see it as an insult even if she says it like one. You shake your head. 

"No, I--" you begin and Lloyd stomps your foot so you bite down on your voice.  

"She is a corporate consultant. International corporation," he explains.  

"Oh, wow, sounds busy," Gwenyth remarks. 

"Yes, how will you have time for children?" Lillian challenges. 

"I'm sure they'll find time to make them," Benson chortles over his snifter.  

"Ben, please," William rebukes. 

"We're focusing on the wedding before all that," Lloyd says. 

You peer around as you chew your cheeks in frustration. You're annoyed by how they speak of you as if you're not even there, and so intimately. Yet, you don't have much to say for yourself. This whole facade is tiresome and you really don't care what they think about a made-up job. Or marriage, for that matter. 

"That will be done with quickly," Gwenyth sniffs. "And she will need to quit that job if she wants to do her duty as your wife." 

"I can handle a job and a husband," you blurt out. 

The table quiets as if stunned that you can speak. You blink and Lloyd puts his fork down and touches your arm, "sweet pea--" 

"I highly doubt you'd be marrying him for any other reason than that nest egg promised to him," Lillian scoffs. "You don't need to play a saint with us, darling. Marriage is a transaction in more ways than one; affection, money, sex--" 

"Lilly," William warns and she laughs. 

"Well?" She shrugs. "You do know, the wedding only guarantees a twenty percent payout. He needs an heir to get all of it." She pets her stomach smugly and smiles. "I can assure you it's well worth it. Once you meet Lorelai, you'll see." 

"Oh? Maybe when you meet her, you'll consider being a mother too," Lloyd retorts. 

"Excuse me?" Lillian snarls. "I love my daughter." 

"Of course you so," he sneers. "I'm sure she feels all that love right now as she enjoys her turkey and carrots with the nanny." 

"I can't have her around adults and alcohol. You can't possibly understand," she snaps. "And maybe it's better that you never do. I could never imagine you as a father, especially when you are such a child." 

"Takes one to know one," Lloyd growls. 

"Enough," William barks. "Both of you." 

Ransom laughs loudly at the end of the table. Lloyd shifts and Lillian rolls her eyes. You sigh at your plate. You miss your family. For the first time in years, you truly miss them. 

"What the hell are you laughing at, Hugh? The only reason you're here is because your grandpappy exiled you." 

Linda gasps, "He's not exiled--" 

"Oh, right, of course not, Lin, that's why you're here breaking bread with the peasants. That's what you called us at great grandmother's wake--" 

"Lloyd, watch your mouth," William snarls. "Better yet, shut it." 

Lloyd recoils in his chair and stiffens. His features sharpen then he lowers his chin and picks up his fork. His jaw is stone as he stirs the gravy into his potatoes. You wouldn't call him humbled, more whipped like a dog. These people make you feel something for him you never thought you could; sympathy. 

"I don't care about money that much," you say. "It can't buy respect. Besides, I would never marry a man without a prenup. Whatever Lloyd has will remain his." You push your shoulders back as a yawn tickles in your throat. "At this point, he can keep you lot as well." 

You stand up and take the cloth napkin from your lap. You fold it neatly, "Gwenyth, you can tell whoever cooked dinner that it was delicious. I appreciate you all having me but I'm going to go find a hotel and some peace." You step around the chair and push it into the table, "happy holidays." 

You turn, your insides jittering. What are you doing? Where did that come from? You could say you're tired and not thinking straight, but honestly, you're just so repulsed by these people that your head could explode. They're lucky they only got a a few pieces of shrapnel. 

You march out without looking back. Your cheeks tinge hotly with self-awareness. You've messed it all up. After years of harnessing your emotions under Hansen's thumb, you finally snapped. You blew it all. 

"What she said," another chair scrapes as Lloyd speaks. "Mom, dad, good night." 

You enter the hall and head for the entry way. You hear him beside you. You're still foggy with disbelief. It isn't until you sit to put on your boots that you notice Lloyd. 

"I know, I'm done. Fired." You pull on your leather booties. "I'll take the severance and figure it out." 

"I didn't say so," he says as he grabs a coat from the closet. 

"Um..." 

"You're completely right. We can't stay here. They're all a bunch of pricks and they wonder why I didn't come home for ten years," he pulls on his coat as he speaks. He pushes back his hair then smooths his mustache. "We're better off at the hotel. We'll sleep better there--" 

"We? Lloyd, please. Stay with your family. I need space," you stand and reach past him for your jacket. "Besides, I booked a single queen and it's Christmas Eve." 

"Queen's big enough. You're tiny--" 

"Okay, no, no," you hiss. "It's not happening. Stay--" 

"But I don't want to," he whines. 

"Mr. Hansen," you say. "You're out of your mind." 

"Well, after your blow up, I don't think I'm welcome," he puts his hand on his hip. "So this is your last chance to save your job. You made the mess, you clean it up." 

"Me?" You exclaim. 

He hushes you and step closer, "Pix, you already made a scene, let's not do the encore. I'm gonna grab my bags, alright?" 

"You can't be serious." You say. 

"Hey, I gotta play the loyal husband--" 

"And why exactly is that necessary? Why couldn't you get one of those Tinder girls?" 

"Woah, woah, come on, someone will hear you," he covers your mouth with his hand and you turn your face away with a blech. "Go warm up the car. We'll talk on the ride to the hotel." 

You stare at him. He watches you, as uncertain as you've ever seen him. In the silence, you can hear the din in the other room. 

"Always was such a baby," Lillian laughs venomously. 

"He could've chosen someone without an iron spine," Gwenyth adds. 

You grimace and throw your hands up, "fine, get your things." 

"You're the best," he grabs your shoulders but before he can kiss you, you put your hand up to pinch his nose. He recoils and rubs the tip, "ow." 

"No more of that," you say as you pull your keys out of your pocket. "Thank god I only had one glass of wine." 

You stomp out the front door. The frigid winter air hits you like a bus. Once one even ground, the swirling snow flecks onto your shoulders and hair. Great, now you get to drive in the snow with an unwanted passenger. 

You get in the driver seat and push the ignition. You turn on the heater and the heated seats. At least Hansen pays enough for the add-ons. Still, you’re not sure there’s any compensation equal to what you just went through. 

You look over as the front door opens and closes. Lloyd rolls a giant suitcase with him, another smaller bag strapped on top, and a third in his other hand. You don’t move as you watch him descend the steps, easing the wheels over the edge one-by-one. 

He comes down the long walk and jerks as his loafers slip on the icy pavement. It would be funny if you weren’t so damn exhausted. You steadies himself and continues on. You should get out and help him. You don’t. 

You pop the trunk with the button. He loads in his bags as you check the rear view. He comes around the passenger side and pulls the door open. He lets out an obnoxious ‘brrrr’ as he drops into the seat next to you. You shift gears as he shuts the door. 

“Ugh, I feel so much better getting out of there,” he says as he adjusts the seat, making room for his long legs. 

“Why?” 

“Um, why not? My family is the worst--” 

“No, why did you drag me into this?” You ask as you lean into the wheel and squint over it. The dark, the snow, the unplowed roads, it’s like the universe can’t stop throwing you obstacles. 

“You want the real answer or the nice answer?” He replies. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you growl. 

“Right, I had no other choice.” 

“No other choice?” You repeat. 

“Look, those long-legged beauties back home, they’re fun, but they don’t got much else going on. I needed someone who could play along,” he explains. 

“Play along?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smart so--” 

“I’m smart...” 

“I wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t--” 

“Jeez, wow, Mr. Hansen, thank you so much. You think I’m so smart, so you should know I’m smart enough to know better than to believe you. You think I’m desperate,” you turn slowly onto the next street. “You think I have nothing else going on.” 

“No, that’s not--” he shifts in his seat. 

“It’s exactly what you think,” you huff. “Well, I do. I have a flight in...” you pause and check the time on the dash, “five hours so when we get to the hotel, I’m going to sleep and you’re going to let me. Then I’m going to catch my flight and the curtain can be pulled on this whole theatre.” 

“Your words, not mine. I don’t think you’re desperate.” 

You don’t respond. You’re tired. He just can’t leave things alone. He always has to say something. You wonder if he was truly left to his own thoughts, if his head would combust. 

“I’m actually impressed,” you says, “you held your own.” 

“Sir,” you utter. 

“It was good. Entertaining. I mean, all these years, you never once talked back to me but wow, that was... majestic, really. You didn’t even wait to see my mother’s face. Or my sister’s.” 

“Your family is weird,” you blurt out. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t mean--” 

“I mean, yeah, we probably are but I don’t really have anything to compare it to,” he says. 

You nod. He has a point. Yet, while that horde of entitled brats might explain his personality, it can’t excuse it. 

The hotel’s marquee shines like a beacon as you steer into the lot. You yawn and shut off the engine. You let yourself out and drag your feet around to the trunk. You take out your carry-on as Lloyd hovers at the other side. 

“All of your stuff, out,” you say. “I’m going straight to the airport in the morning. Checkout is ten so as long your gone by then, I don’t care what you do.” 

He’s quiet but he obeys. He takes his bags out and sets them on the ground. He pulls the rolling bag and slings his smallest bag on his shoulder. You snap the trunk shut and turn, shuffling across the icy tarmac. 

You enter through the automatic doors and cross the desolate lobby. You check in with your ID but as you look for your credit card, Lloyd flicks his between his fingers and offers it up to the clerk. 

“It’s on me,” he insists. 

You won’t argue. You really don’t trust him to leave by checkout. As you head for the elevators, he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak until you’re behind the sliding doors of the compartment. 

“You know, I’m still your boss so you can’t just order me around,” he says. 

You glance over at him. “Right, won’t happen again, sir.” 

“It could have been worse, you know? I could’ve actually had you come all the way out here just to drop off some gifts. If you think about it, you got a free dinner and some wine--” 

“Yeah, it was a great time,” you say dryly. “Mr. Hansen, I’m too tired to lie any more. Tonight was one of the worst nights of my life so no, I don’t think it could be worse.” 

The doors open and you stride out. You swipe the card at the door corresponding to the number written in the folio and let yourself in. He follows closely, nearly running over your heels with his suitcase. 

You take your bag to the bed and take out the cotton pajamas stuffed inside just for tonight. You bring them with you into the bedroom, doing your best to ignore your guest. Lloyd wanders along the wall and finds his way to the mini fridge. 

You’re in no rush to change, only to get to bed. You trade your dress and stockings for the cotton two-piece and emerge. You shove your bag and clothes beside the night table and slide under the blankets. You pull them up to your shoulders. 

“They got wine, tequila, beer--” 

“I’m going to sleep,” you insist. 

“The alcohol will help.” 

“No, it will make waking up even harder.” 

“After tonight, I think you need a shot.” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you grumble and cover your head. 

“Fine, more for me.” He snickers. 

You’re happy he can’t see the irritation on your face. You might just be better off to let him drink whatever. Eventually, he’ll have to pass out. At least, you can only hope he does. 

[visenyaism]

I find the rampant fatphobia in asoiaf both interesting and confusing. Bc being fat or on the bigger side was consider a beauty standard, a status/proof of wealth and appealing back in the middle ages and beyond. Being fat meant you had money and a full-er look. Verse being on the skinny side which was associated with being poor and sickly. Not trying to make a claim about what is a superior beauty standard (that shit is just bad in general) but more so I'm asking why is there so much fatphobia in books? There are so much more skinny characters compared to fat ones, and the non-skinny ones are constantly seen as a butt of a joke, ugly, and loathed. This should be the opposite according to history. Why is that? I'm asking from a place genuine confusion. Thank you!

There are a lot of moments where the beauty standards in asoiaf are super anachronistic to the time period the books are supposed to be based off of. Like every woman even the nobles has their hair long loose and out, Jon Snow randomly makes fun of a woman for having leg hair, and yeah most insidiously the fatphobia. I don’t know if I have anything to say about it other than it’s bad and while George sometimes deconstructs it like with Sam, there are a lot of moments where it’s played completely straight and comes out just being gross and weird, like with Lysa.

[sloppilyeatinggrapes]

This is my secret sideblog so I'm just gonna. Not do it as an ask game, I just want to talk about podcasts!

1.) what’s the first podcast you listened to?

Welcome to Nightvale <3

2.) what’s a podcast you’ve cried over?

So many, but recently, Unwell!

3.) Favorite podcast pet? (Idk if that’s worded weird but like if one of the characters has a cat or smth)

I'm honestly not the biggest fan of podcast pets but there is ONE EXCEPTION which is Dumptruck from Find us alive

4.) what podcast has the best soundtrack/music?

Aaah there are many I like... One some might have missed is Dreamboy, which have a couple of bangers, or In Strange Woods, which is a WHOLE MUSICAL and I listen to the songs frequently. But my go to soundtracks are Friends at the table (thank you Jack deQuit). Honorable mention to Wolf 359 and Hallowoods who I think uses their osts SO WELL, giving me VISCERAL reactions when I hear the music out of context.

5.) what’s a podcast that you really like but find it kinda hard to follow the plot?

I have tried to listen to What's the Frequence so many times, it seems so intriguing and interesting as a concept, but I still don't know what even the basic plot is. I think it starts with a murder?

6.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would be friends?

Maybe this is a weird combo but I do think Diggory would be great Friends with Kai and X from Girl in Space. It's something about identity and bodies and being made with a purpose, and somehow still ending up being a pretty chill person.

I also think the demons from Brimstone Valley Mall (especially the teens) would be best hatefriends with the Hrose camp polecule. They are opposite sides but same kind of mall kids. Maybe they wouldn't be friends maybe I just want to watch the world burn

7.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would hate each other?

hmmm. Elias TMA and Keppler Wolf359. They are boss middle managers who think very highly of their own competence, have VERY different ideological base and would kill each other with knives over a cornchip

8.) what’s a podcast where you mix up the characters voices?

I have had this problem with A LOT of podcasts in the beginning, it usually takes me a while unless they are very distinct. I remember it being a problem with Mabel (literally two characters and I couldnt tell them apart...) and Syntax with two of the women side-characters. It took me so long to understand what their personalities were supposed to be, since I couldnt tell who said what.

9.) what’s a podcast that you know the characters so well you can recognize their breathing?

oooh hmm. I mean, Nightvale. It's been like 11 years after all. And Deck the halls with Matrimony!

10.) what’s a podcast that you wish you could listen to again for the first time?

oooh maybe The Penumbra podcast, specifically Juno! I think I got a weird impression of it because I listened to the OG, much rougher version of arc 1, it was really confusing and I got a very different idea about the characters in my head. Now when it's finished, I think it would be a better listen to just go through all of it as a blank slate! I also liked the end, and I think it found what it is about during the journey.

11.) what’s a podcast you’ve listened to more than once?

Most... If I like it I'll listen AT LEAST twice. But I have listened to Deck the Halls SO MANY TIMES because it's short and wrapped.

12.) what’s a podcast you wish more people listened to?

Having many fans is a double edged sword, but right now, Hallowoods and Hymns for the road. I think both would be so visually inspiring for fanart and oc's.

13.) what do you like to do while listening to a podcast?

Draw! Always!

14.) who is a podcast character that you love?

Leon from Greater Boston!

Diggory Graves from Hallowoods!

Brnine from Friends at The Table!

15.) who is a podcast character you can’t stand?

Genuinely? I did not like Cassius from Syntax... sorry... I just think they are too stupid for me.

16.) what songs do you associate with a certain character/ podcast?

oh man, Hoziers Eat your young with Hallowoods, Moss by cosmo shelldrake (for obvious reasons) with Hymns for the road, Haunted House by sir babygirl with Friends at the Table

17.) what’s a podcast that you can’t stop thinking about?

Bluff city (friends at the table), Hallowoods, Greater Boston and The Silt Verses. It's something about imperfect communities

18.) are their any podcasts that you regret listening to?

Yes. We're alive. Zombie podcast. Was waiting for it to subverse all the boring and bad cliches it set up. It didn't. It was 100 eps a 40 min. I have never been more mad

19.) whose your favorite podcast couple?

In canon, of course Cecil and Carlos. The OG!

Shipping wise its Leon and Michael from Greater Boston, Harley and Lancaster and Love and Radager from Find us Alive, Brnine and Valence from Palisade, Heard and Hector from Bluff city.

I also ship Malik from World gone wrong with the alien replacement of his ex. I WANT TO BELIEVE.

20.) whose a podcast character that you think would dress really cool?

Actually cool? Probably Riot or Olivier from HFTH. Cool as in interesting/fascinating? Cecil WTNV again.

Podcast themed ask game cause I’m bored!

1.) what’s the first podcast you listened to?

2.) what’s a podcast you’ve cried over?

3.) Favorite podcast pet? (Idk if that’s worded weird but like if one of the characters has a cat or smth)

4.) what podcast has the best soundtrack/music?

5.) what’s a podcast that you really like but find it kinda hard to follow the plot?

6.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would be friends?

7.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would hate each other?

8.) what’s a podcast where you mix up the characters voices?

9.) what’s a podcast that you know the characters so well you can recognize their breathing?

10.) what’s a podcast that you wish you could listen to again for the first time?

11.) what’s a podcast you’ve listened to more than once?

12.) what’s a podcast you wish more people listened to?

13.) what do you like to do while listening to a podcast?

14.) who is a podcast character that you love?

15.) who is a podcast character you can’t stand?

16.) what songs do you associate with a certain character/ podcast?

17.) what’s a podcast that you can’t stop thinking about?

18.) are their any podcasts that you regret listening to?

19.) whose your favorite podcast couple?

20.) whose a podcast character that you think would dress really cool?

[tamayula-hl]

Sorry I have skipped answering anonymous messages for a while 🫣

Thank you so much for all the wonderful sunflowers(Himawari)! 😭😭🙏✨🌻💕 (And sorry I'm always getting them and not spreading this joy to other people's inboxes 🙇‍♀️) I'll continue to have fun creating various Slytherins content 💪😌💕.

YESSSS! I want to draw more about Sakurako and I always want to draw something like an introduction sheet about the Seb x Sakurako ship, but there are so many other things I want to draw that those inevitably take a back seat 🤣. But I hope to draw Sakurako soon 💪.

Aww, that's a very great idea! I'd love to see Slytherins struggling with parenting for the first time so I'd love to draw about this one day 😭✨. I can just see Ominis looking troubled and flustered while holding the baby, and Seb at a loss after trying to look things up in a book that he doesn't understand and can't solve… 😏.

ありがとうございます！ I am very happy and honoured to receive such a compliment! I've been studying painting in my sleep lately, so it's a great relief to know that I'm growing thanks to your message!

Personally, I think that the less revealing swimming costumes of the olden days are attractive, but as an artist, it is more fun to draw sexy swimwear, so I would like to draw HL Girls like in the ending of Naruto! 🤣 I'd like to draw about them next summer 🤭

Thanks for showing me a great story! If I get a good idea to illustrate these in pictures, I'd like to draw them someday 🤭💕

I am glad to hear such compliments! Thank you! And ahh, I would very much like to see Ominis in that situation!🥹✨✨ It must be fascinating to see him realising that his partner's unusual voice and breathing is causing them to be injured, and then impatiently trying to treat it as calmly as possible..! I hope to draw this soon 😏😏😏.

In Japan, when drawing a character x OC, we sometimes use a representation without their eyes to show that the OC is a character with no particular backstory or personality (or we sometimes represent the OC as a pure white mannequin, without drawing not only the eyes but also the hair and skin colour)😌 To be honest, I've been struggling for over a year and a half now to decide whether I should or should not draw eyes on personality-less OCs 🤣🤣

Oh, I've been recommended that fiction by various people and would love to read it, but you'll have to forgive me for not having read it yet 😭😭🙏. I'm especially sorry that lately I've been concentrating on my painting studies, cutting down on sleep and food, and I haven't been able to read at all not only the works recommended to me, but even those of my friends I follow: …… I will definitely read those works when I have the mental capacity to do so! 🙇‍♀️

As a Japanese, I would like to draw the HL character in MahouTokoro uniform one day 🤭💪. I think it's supposed to be unclear if Mahoutokoro has dormitory groupings like Hogwarts, and from a Japanese point of view there are a lot of pretty weird things about Mahoutokoro and the Japanese wizarding world, but I enjoy fantasising about these… 😏💕

Of course! I love Japanese anime 😫😫💕. I especially love Naruto, I can't tell you how many fanart and fanfictions I've drawn over the past 20 years since I got into Naruto when I was 10 years old 🤣💕. Death Note and Crayon Shin-Chan are other Anime (Manga) that I've loved for years and years and have had a huge influence on me!

I am so glad you liked the 2024 Slytherins! I think I have discovered a new fascination for them by painting that picture! And I get dizzy just thinking about Slytherins with hair in the picture you sent me 😫🥵💕. They must definitely be cool with long hair too! Especially the long- hair Ominis, I've been wanting to draw him for a long time now🤭 I'll try to draw them with long hair one day 💪💪💪

In fact, just a year ago I drew about Seb like that, though maybe not quite the same 🤭 (https://www.tumblr.com/tamayula-hl/735330297365790720/the-boy-who-recognized-beyond-the-fourth) I like it a lot and your message makes me want to draw again about Seb and Omi who have realised the ‘truth’ 💪😏.

Raraa! The idea of collaborating Sanrio characters with HL characters was unexpected, but it would definitely be cute! ✨💕🤭 That cute but grumpy look of Badtz-Maru and Omi should be a good match… I want to doodle about them soon 🤣🤣

I'd like to draw it someday, and I'd also like to draw, for example, how Seb would look at Anne trying on a slightly sexier swimming costume… 😏😏😏

Perhaps you can find my work if you set it up as per the image below 😌

[nylloth]

My opinion about Arcane s2 (mostly Viktor)

I'm trying to be neutral on this, but I'm upset with what they did to Viktor.

I was wrong about their relationship with Sky (but I had hope), you can see he never really cared for her and the animators put their all into conveying that. Plus, let's say Sky represents Viktor's humanity and Viktor himself gives up on her. And it's a lot easier for him to give her up than it is for Jayce, who he's trying to show this new “world” to.

They have a lot of gay moments with Jayce, I don't know why the writers call it “family”. It's really hard to see family in that. It seems like at some point they decided to change the plot, because at the end Jayce and Viktor just disappear and no one just doesn't care what Jayce has with Mel.

The thing I didn't like the most was how they changed Ryze, that now Ryze is Viktor, the all-powerful mage. We know from the documentary that it was Ryze at one point. That would make more sense than Viktor traveling through time and constantly dooming himself to a series of miseries. But then again, they added the “all for Jayce” aspect to it.

You can see it's supposed to be a different character, right?

I really didn't like how they treated Sky because obviously she wasn't an evil manipulative core. Viktor killed her twice for his own purposes. Once by accident, the second time on purpose. Look, you add a girl who is IN LOVE with a man, make her die twice for him, and show WHY he doesn't care. It's a dirty act. Amanda said she was “proud to write Sky”, I don't know what there is to be proud of. As a woman, it was painful for me to watch. You didn't have to do that. Did you mean to say the character is gay? You don't have to humiliate women to do that.

I always hoped Viktor wouldn't have any romantic innuendos because feelings, for Herald, are a weakness. But the fact that they're indulging JayVik fans makes it look NOTHING like that. Like, I'm not a fan of this ship, but even I don't consider what they showed as brotherly feelings. Especially from Viktor's side. He is literally too concerned with Jayce's opinion.

I also think that the writers largely emphasized the clips and fights, but didn't add to the story itself. I mean Silco's deep thoughts in the first season on political topics and the theme of family in general was shown much better.

Herald is essentially non-existent. It's a character for the last two episodes who is immediately killed off because of a few words from Jayce. Viktor returns and they vaporize somewhere. I take it this is starting a recurring time loop.

They kind of tried to put in Viktor's “here he's come to the realization on his own that humanity is bad”, but they did it SO FAST and literally because of one event that it looked bad. Yeah, it's not about hexcore. VIKTOR SUPPOSEDLY CAME TO THIS ON HIS OWN. Why? Because Jayce shot him, and then Jayce helped him realize otherwise. No, really, what was that?

I also didn't like the redesign. I was hoping the mask would look different, but it looks HORRIBLE.

It's supposed to give the impression that Viktor “shut down and withdrew into himself”, they also tried to make him a “deity”, but since it only lasted 20 minutes before he went back to his normal state, it didn't make any sense… Anyway… I sympathize with everyone who loved Viktor specifically, outside jayvik ship (happy for you guys). I know they are excited, but this is not Viktor's story. You see, Viktor doesn't have his own personal story now, he's too connected to Jayce. You could say he did everything and nothing at the same time. Because he keeps running this time loop, but he's running it because of Jayce's influence.

Waiting for his updated lore to read….. idk I'll read it and forget it like a bad dream.

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[1mlei]

Demon Twin Au Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Demon Twin AUs lately.

I've read nearly all of the ones on ao3 (Please do send recs my way <3), and I adore the different interpretations of this concept. I will always love the version of this where Danny and Damian are reunited after Danny ends up in Gotham, or Damian in Amity.

I love this classic take on the AU, but I've been thinking about fun ways to spice it up. My favorite idea so far is the idea that the twins reunite after Damian temporarily dies.

Imagine Danny just minding his business in the Zone and he randomly sees his twin, who is supposed to be alive. Damian would be happy to be reunited, he's been under the assumption that Danny was dead since they were kids so he's just glad to see his twin again. Meanwhile Danny is freaking out because he literally faked his death and ran away so Damian could live, what the fuck is this?

You could add a touch of Sam and Tucker being confused on the side. I always imagine that Danny never told them about where he came from or his brother. (What can I say? I love the drama that secrets bring.) You could either have Damian look like his civilian self as a ghost, and have Sam and Tucker be confused af about this random ghost that looks just like Danny. They might think it's a weird duplicate or something, but then why is Danny so freaked out? You could also have Damian be in his Robin costume, I imagine Sam and Tucker would be shocked to randomly see the ghost of Robin in the Zone, but it's far from the weirdest thing they've seen in there. Again, Danny has never been a huge fan of other heroes or vigilantes, so why is he so freaked out about this one being dead? Of course, though Danny has stayed away from Gotham for various reasons he is aware that his twin brother has become Robin after moving in with their father, so he knows that this new ghost can only be one person.

Now moving away from the idea of the twins just randomly running into each other :)

You could try turning it into a twin telepathy type thing, where Danny senses Damian dying, or at least that something happens to him and goes to investigate.

Or, something that I feel is quite in character for Damian, he might hunt down Danny himself the moment he realizes where he is.

You could turn this in different directions again depending on whether Damian is in civilian clothes or his Robin costume. Either way, I imagine him questioning some other random ghost (maybe one of Danny's rouges for fun?) and regardless of how he's dressed they'll point him towards Danny.

"Oh you're looking for your brother? Idk man, go ask Phantom or something."

OR

"Your brother? You look fucking identical to Phantom so you might wanna start there."

Either way Damian tracks down Phantom and concludes that yes, that is his brother. Dramatic reunion ensues.

Last little thought I had on this, Damian doesn't think Danny is a ghost, he assumes he moved on, or maybe he somehow knows he faked his death and thinks he's alive? Regardless, Damian is a man on a mission the moment he arrives in the Zone, he refuses to stay in this pathetic realm and decides that whether he's dead or alive he will make his way back to Earth. Best way to get there? Damian goes to talk to the king of course, to negotiate (or fight if necessary) about going back to Earth. If not that, he just happens to hear about a certain half-human, half-ghost hybrid and tracks him down for help. A hybrid sounds like someone who would know how to go back and forth between the realms after all.

---

All this to say, I want more of the Demon Twins reuniting in the Ghost Zone. If anyone has recommendations or ends up writing a story of this please do send a link my way, it would be most appreciated <3

+ Bonus points will be added if there is a scene where Damian is resurrected and Danny decided to tag along. Cue confused batfam freaking out because oh god there's two of them now how did that happen.

[animeomegas]

blowing some boys' back out please x3 your choice of 'em

that's 2 imprecise help neji gaara, sasuke, and minato? :3 bonus if the alpha is big in size. I'll be 🍷 anon if not already taken ! mwah

(Hey, welcome 🍷 anon! Let's see~)

N-sfw under cut

Let's set the scene!

It was a rough night last night, enthusiastic, hot, and very heavy.

And some soreness is totally normal after nights like this, especially when you consider your... greater than average size *cough*

But when your omega gets up the next morning, it's clear that the soreness is more than normal.

He's waddling around the house, holding himself gingerly, still kind of dazed from last night.

He probably has some emerging bruises in sensitive places, a few pulled muscles, too.

Maybe you were a little too enthusiastic 😅

But how does he react?

Neji

He is deeply unimpressed by you.

He's sending you dirty looks, blaming you for his current condition and conveniently forgetting how much he was begging for it to be harder last night.

"How am I supposed to go shopping like this? 😠"

You better be pampering him to say sorry.

He's going to settle down on the couch and you'll be doing all the chores and massaging the sore parts of his body.

Bring him snacks and butter him up with lots of lovey dovey apologies and he'll forgive you.

And then ask for that kind of sex again the next week smh.

Gaara

Concerned boy is concerned :(

Rough sex is extremely out of character for him, and so something must have triggered it. Perhaps extremely heightened emotions?

I'm not sure, but he's regretting it so much :(

He knew rough sex was a bad idea. He kind of feels bad about the whole thing.

For a shinobi, his pain tolerance is pretty low, but he still has to get to work because he has a village to run...

He keeps his composure remarkably well at work, but he goes home early and he expects lots of cuddles and kisses and gentle affection.

It's one of the only sex things that he won't overshare with his siblings because he's genuinely embarrassed by injuries that occurred from his perceived lack of control. He feels like he should know better.

Give him lots of love, okay?

Sasuke

He is SOOOOO embarrassed.

And he's pissed at you. But he won't say that because he's too busy pretending that nothing is wrong.

This lasts for all of 5 minutes before he realises that pretending he's fine means leaving the house like this, and he'd rather DIE.

So, the man who would try to train or take a mission while literally delirious with illness, actually takes a day off and hides in bed.

A bed that he kicks you out of by the way.

(but you can probably sneak back in with some well placed nuzzles)

What is he even so embarrassed about?

People knowing he has sex? Kinda, yes.

How fucking ridiculous he looks waddling around? Absolutely.

Not being strong enough to physically take his alpha without injury? Yes...

DO NOT tease him!

Just apologise once and then make him breakfast and don't bring it up ever again 😅

Minato

He's a bit sheepish about the situation, because he remembers begging for it to be harder, and he should have known better.

Oh well! Now he knows better, and well, it was pretty hot.

He gets a bit turned on thinking about it, which probably hurts, so that train of thought dies quickly.

He will probably tease you about being so big and rough lol

To be honest though, he's totally fine, and he'll say "you don't have to do that" everytime you try to apologise or make it up to him.

He would appreciate you running him a bath and making him some food though, just to show him that you love him.

Let's just hope that he's not teaching that day 🙏🏻 Because he is not as subtle as he thinks.

Or working as Hokage... Because his guard definitely know how he spent yesterday evening 😏

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The Laws of Attraction (Lawyer!Higurnami x Law Student!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem!Reader x Hiromi Higuruma

Synopsis: You are a law school senior and intern juggling schoolwork and your job who attends your firm’s anniversary party one night. While there, Higuruma Hiromi and Nanami Kento, your bosses and the two sexy attorneys you’re secretly attracted to, help you celebrate your final grades and receiving a brand new position at their firm….just not in the way that they should. But who cares about what’s right or wrong when it feels so good?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Black-coded!Fem!Reader; Lawyers!Nanami x Higuruma; Law Student/Intern!Reader; Eye-Fucking; Secret Crush; Mutual Pining; Threesome; Coworkers to Lovers; Mild Power Play; Lowkey Flirting; Office Sex; CMNF; Dual Cunnilingus; Deepthroating; Doggystyle Over Desk; Spitroast; Facefucking; Dom/sub Undertones; Throatpie; Cum On Ass; Sneaky Sex; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I’ve had this idea rolling around in my head for DAYS now. I’m so happy I’m finally able to share it after finally writing it. I hope y’all enjoy! KISSES!! 💋💋 -Jazz

**********

You know that a second glass of champagne probably isn’t logical or practical.

But if you have to listen to your fellow intern and total preppy asshole drone on about his vacation stories, you’ll definitely blow your brains out.

You stand in a small circle with the other interns that started with you last year for the internship program. The firm has one that stretches all year long, starting in the spring and ending in the winter. You’ve known these people for months now and while you like some, there are others than you’d gladly avoid.

Like the preppy exchange student from Upstate New York who came to Japan to study abroad. Of course, he’s standing beside you in his Armani student, buzzed off of his second beer and oozing arrogance and ignorance. “My friends wanted to go to Bora Bora again, but I always found Bora Bora to be sooo overhyped,” he groans. “That’s why we went to Hawaii. It was cheaper.”

He takes a sip of his beer, dripping some down his tie. You don’t warn him. ”I heard Hawaiians didn’t want tourists anymore,” Yuki points out, standing next to you. “Something about them pushing natives out of their homes because of construction.”

She sips on her champagne and eyes you as she does it. You fight the urge to smile. “Well, that didn’t kick me out,” the exchange student chuckles. “I had a ball! Lotta beer on the beach and a lot of girls too.” He turns to you now, your worst fear coming true. “You ever been to Hawaii, Y/N?”

You force yourself to turn towards the young, blonde jock who only came to work here because his father has connections in the legal system as a hotshot judge in New York. As a young, Black woman, you worked your ass off to get into this program and into law school. As you can imagine, juggling both is a damn job in itself.

You purposely kept quiet for half of the night to avoid exerting energy in boring conversations, but to avoid dissociating for the fifth time tonight, you fix your mouth into a smile. “No, but I prefer Costa Rica. The water is prettier. Excuse me, I’m gonna fill myself up.”

Quickly, you excuse yourself from the group and walk over to the alcohol table located on the other side of the gorgeous ballroom. “Oh, pass me another beer if they got one,” the jock suggests. “We can share, if you want. I know you like a good beer too.” He gives you a lopsided smile that’s supposed to get you hot and bothered like it has to all of the other girls he’s screwed.

You stifle the urge to vomit and give him a tight lipped smile before quickly walking off…or as quickly as you can in your Jimmy Choo heels. Your friend and roommate forced you into them, telling you that only these shoes brought out your skin and meshed with your slim, strapless, black dress.

You will admit that you feel the sexiest you’ve ever felt in it. Even when you tried it on and had your friend tie the strings behind your neck to hold the slinky article of clothing up, you felt like the baddest bitch walking. As soon as you walked into the ballroom, you caught eyes….just not the eyes you truly want.

As you walk across the ballroom, nodding and smiling at guests (lawyers, politicians, city officials, etc.), you admire the beautiful decor of the room. The decorators rearranged cushioned furniture, added gorgeous white flowers as centerpieces, and polished the marbled floor so much that you can see yourself in it. The scent of cinnamon and cloves drift through the air along with the bitter winter breeze pouring in from outside as people come and go for cigarette breaks.

They truly went all out for this anniversary party.

Your firm is located on the sixth floor of a twelve-story building in downtown Tokyo, specifically in the business district. Every weekday you catch the train at 7AM with fellow bright-eyed, bushy-tailed workers in their uniforms and weary, hungover students preparing for an 8AM course. You’ve always loved the hustle and bustle of the city; the constant activity; the sense of determination and purpose in the air when you do your eight-minute route to the train station to work.

Maybe that’s why you decided to take the internship offer when you were picked last spring. You were a law student, a senior-to-be, in need of a legal position that would give you more experience and had a decent pay. Your job as a waitress could only do so much. After you were interviewed by the program director, she set you up for another interview with the attorney you would be working for. When you realized that you would be interviewed by two attorneys instead of one, you thought it was some kind of mistake.

But you were reassured by the director that Kento Nanami and Hiromi Higuruma, the top attorneys at their firm, wanted you specifically. “They picked you out from ten other candidates,” she gushed to you over the phone. “They’re so impressed with your resume and our interview notes.”

You smile to yourself as you take another glass of champagne. You can’t believe that this was twelve months ago. Now if you can only snag a full time position here and ace your final exams so you can graduate next spring, your life will be complete.

Yuki appears beside you, dressed in a red dress and wearing her blonde locks in waves. ”He likes you,” she giggles. You roll your eyes beneath your full lashes. “I could give less of a fuck,” you mutter. “I felt like shovin’ a cupcake in his mouth to shut him up.” Yuki laughs despite your deadass statement. “So where’s your date tonight?” she asks. “Since preppy white jocks don’t float your boat.”

No man floats your boat nowadays, it seems. Not when you’re in law school. What guy would want a girl who stresses over essays and exams every other week? “Well, my roomie has a cold and couldn’t come,” you explain. “I wanted to stay, but she forced me to put on this dress and come.”

“And it’s a damn good thing she did!” Yuki scoffs. “You look amazing!” You smile shyly, feeling your cheeks flush. “And I’d rather you be here celebrating the 10th year of the firm with me than at home. Intern or not, you’re a part of this team too, Y/N.”

Though Yuki’s words are sweet, you’d much rather be at home with your roommate watching Netflix in your sweatshirt and booty shorts, shoveling ice cream down your throat and maybe popping an edible to ignore the impending anxiety of your exam scores tonight.

Anything than being a room with a bunch of preppy folks and pretending to be interested in anything they have to say. But you got yourself into your pretty gown for two important reasons: one because this party is a good distraction from your incoming grades and two, you’re waiting for two guests in particular to show up. Your bosses…or as your friend would call them, your sexy lawyer baes, Nanami and Higuruma.

These are two names that pop up often at your firm and in the legal world. As two Harvard graduates and prominent lawyers in business and corporate law, they were among the original ten lawyers who started out at the firm when it was still very small and upcoming. Now expansive and holding over a hundred attorneys, Nanami and Higuruma are still the top in the game in their thirties.

They are intelligent. They are virtuous. They are calm, cool, and collected when needed in the court. And they are also fine. As. Fuck.

And you know all of this because you work underneath them and have been for over twelve months as an intern. You never knew why they hired you to personally work for them, but you jumped at the chance to take the offer when it was given to you after your one-on-two interview with them.

As unapproachable and cool they seem, the two lawyers are pretty lenient with you. They allow you to use their shared office to do your work, they work around your class schedule, and don’t make you work overtime. Most of your duties are fetching coffee for them in the mornings from the lobby cafe, editing and proofreading documents, delivering files to different departments, and drafting papers.

They truly make it easy for you. They aren’t hard or difficult like a lot of other lawyers in your firm who run their assistants ragged. They answer all of your questions and push you to give your all. “But remember to rest,” Nanami always tells you. “Burnout is a killer.” He is the softest of the two and a true sweetheart at heart.

Higuruma is more of the sterner one, always giving you constructive criticism with any underlayer of encouragement. He has a dry humor that reminds you of a boring dad and has you giggling while you’re doing your work. The two lawyers bounce off of one another, having disagreements and arguments but always coming together to win a case.

They are truly a duo made in heaven, especially in the looks department. It isn’t a surprise to you that the entire firm has their eyes on them as handsome as they are—soft-looking lips, firm stares, and eyes that make your blood run hot. Your dreams are often filled with hot visions of doing very nasty things with Higuruma’s nose and stroking Nanami’s cheekbones with your fingers.

As far as you know, they’re single and unmarried, but things can change. Not to mention that you’re their intern! There is a very clear line that you don’t cross at a job and that includes not fucking your bosses.

No matter how sexy they are in their suits, or how intoxicating their cologne is, or how you wish to feel their big hands on you, you can never ever destroy the work relationship you have with them and fuck up your entire life. Besides, how else are you going to get a job here when you graduate law school?

So you disguise your interest in them as kindness and shove your horiness away, never acting on your attractions to them. But sometimes, you do think that the feeling is mutual. Just in November before your final exams, your bosses graciously offered to help you study. You were studying from your self-made study guide over lunch with them in their office. You had five classes during your fall semester you had final exams for: four tests and one paper due the same week you took your tests.

“Well, I can tutor you for the tests,” Higuruma said, taking a peak at your guide. “Clearly, you need someone to break this shit down for you and test you.”

“And make sure you don’t completely blow your top over your grammar,” Nanami added, referring to your paper. “I was a 4.0 in Harvard, don’t you know?” As usual, you laughed. They always knew how to take your head out of your work with their teasing and dry humor.

That month, the three of you would meet during lunch and work. Higuruma would time you on definitions for legal terms, answering open-ended questions, and knowing which court does what. Nanami, in contrast, would take a look at your final paper and make alterations, highlighting anything that needed to be edited and giving suggestions.

It was the most help you got in your three years of law school. And unfortunately, it made you fall deeper for them. You weren’t even planning to attend the firm’s tenth anniversary party, but when you found out Higuruma and Nanami were attending through an invite to your work email, you knew you had to show up.

You smile at Yuki now, raising your champagne glass. “Well, cheers to that,” you giggle and clink your glass with hers. “You’re sweet, Yuki. Definitely makes this whole environment worth it.” The two of you giggle to each other and gossip about the other guests as you sip champagne and much on veggie sticks from the snack table.

At some point during your third glass, you hear a buzz come from your purse. Your heart skips a bit and you race to fish it out, thinkin that it may be Nanami or Higuruma texting you that they’ve finally arrived. But when you see that it’s your Canvas notification, your stomach drops.

Suddenly, the champagne tastes sour and all of the sounds of the party sound muffled like you’re underwater. All of your grades are in, including your final paper. You swallow hard as you stare at your phone screen, your vision becoming fuzzy. You feel like you’re about to faint. Oh, where are Nanami and Higuruma when you need them?

“…Y/N?” You turn to Yuki as if you just realized that she’s standing there. “Sorry, what?” You dumbly ask.

“They finally brought out the chocolate fountain!” She announces, pointing excitedly at the fountain bubbling chocolate fondue just a few feet away. “Let’s get some before we have to fight off the entire party.” You force a smile and wave her off, trying to hide your oncoming anxiety attack the best you can. “You go ahead. I need to powder my nose first.”

It’s enough to make Yuki agree, telling her that she’ll get you a plate. Once she’s strutting off in her heels, you make a beeline for the bathroom located down the hallway from the ballroom. You move as quickly as possible in your heels, scrolling for your friend’s contact at the same time. By the time you reach the bathroom, you feel like you’re about to throw up.

You barrel through the door, sighing in relief when you find it empty. Quickly, you shut the door and will your friend to answer the phone, gripping the sink for support. You feel as if your knees are about to buckle from the anxiety you feel bubbling inside of you. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you mutter. Finally, your friend does, coughing into the phone. “What’s up, babe?” she crokes out. “Did your lawyer baes come yet?”

“No, but my grades just came back and I’m in the bathroom so I don’t have a panic attack, but I am having a panic attack.” You face yourself in the mirror. You thought you looked so pretty with your Fenty Beauty foundation, plumping gloss, and long lashes framing your gold eyeshadow. But now? All you see is anxiousness.

“Okay, relax,” your bestie soothingly says. Only she knows the stress you’ve been under for three years. “Breathe. Tell yourself your affirmations. I already know you did amazing, Y/N. You already know that too. You studied your ass off, remember?”

You do. You had to. Only you have the power to make all three of these years of constant stress mean something. You need that degree. “Yeah,” you exhale before inhaling again. You do that a couple of times, egged on by your friend who tells you how smart and determined you are. Finally, you feel like you’re ready. “Here I go…I’m opening them now.”

You put the call on speaker, but your friend is silent as you shakily open the Canvas app. You check each one of your final grades, your heart damn near exploding one after the other. All high scores. Three As and one B. “Oh, my God,” you gasp.

“What?” your friend urges. “What’d you get?”

You nearly drop your phone as your body trembles from excitement and relief. “I passed,” you whisper. Then again, louder this time: “I passed!” you squeal. “I fucking passed!” You feel tears prick your eyes and you have to rapidly blink to keep from ruining your mascara.

You can’t believe it. You’re done! You’re going to graduate law school next spring! “Congratulations, girl!” your friend cheers. “I knew you could do it! Now go out there, turn the fuck up, and celebrate with your lawyer baes.”

You scoff, taking some tissue to tab at your cheeks and temple. “For the last time, they’re not my baes or boos or boyfriends.” She swears that Higuruma and Nanami are your future husbands. “Not yet!” she argues. “You just wait till they see you lookin’ fine as fuck in your dress and next thing you know, you’re going home with one of ‘em…or both!”

“Goodbye, you perv,” you giggle. “Thank you. I love you.” Your friend bids you farewell and tells you to text her later before you end the call. You take a moment to check yourself out in the mirror, admiring the bad bitch in your reflection.

Finally, you put your phone away and strut back to the party, feeling like you’re the sun and the moon. You feel sexy, exuberant, and like you’re on top of the fucking world. Nothing and nobody can get in your way.

You suddenly bump right into someone’s back, causing you to stumble. “Oh, excuse me!” you gasp. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Your words die in your throat when the stranger turns, revealing himself as your favorite handsome blonde attorney. Nanami is usually in suits for work, but this one is especially tailored. “Ms. L/N,” he says in his smooth, eargasmic voice. “I didn’t expect to bump into you so early tonight.”

You gape at him, unable to speak. You’re at a loss for words. Just then, before you can look any dumber, Higuruma appears with two champagne glasses in hand. He, too, is in a designer suit and red bottom shoes, looking so sexy that it should be illegal. “Oh, there you are. We were actually looking for you.”

His tired-looking brown eyes scale down your outfit. “That’s…some dress. You look nice.” Maybe you imagine it, but his cheeks look pinker in the light. Nanami clears his throat and awkwardly pushes up his framed glasses, snatching one glass from Higuruma and taking a sip.

”T-Thank you,” you stammer, finally finding your voice. You spot a passing waiter on your left with a tray and snatch a glass from it. You’ll need it. You clear your throat, conjuring that bad bitch from the bathroom. “U-Um, I’m actually glad you’re both here. I was looking for you too.”

The lawyers’ brows raise expectantly. “Oh?” Higuruma asks. “Why is that?” You break out into a smile, unable to contain your joy. “I got my grades back for my exams!” you excitedly announce. “All As and Bs!” You fish your phone out of your clutch and shove the screen into your bosses’ faces. “See for yourselves,” you proudly giggle.

Nanami takes your phone and peers down at it, squinting into the blue light. When he sees your grades, a slow smile creeps across his face that gives you butterflies. “Let me see,” Higuruma mumbles, snatching your phone from Nanami.

He mutters to himself, something he always does when reading. You find it so endearing. When he finishes, he scoffs in surprise. “Well, damn,” he huffs. “This is impressive, Y/N. You really locked in as the kids say these days.”

“You’re not that old, Higuruma,” Nanami scoffs, snatching your phone back and handing it to you. “Nice job, Ms. L/N. We’ll have to celebrate.” The two lawyers smile at you like you’re the best thing in the world. You feel it. Standing with them, you feel as if nothing can touch you.

Higuruma raises his glass, a small smile playing on his lips. “A toast to good grades and an even better future.” You all raise your glasses and clink them before taking a sip. You can already feel the effects of the champagne taking over. You feel bubbly and light as a feather. Beautiful and carefree. Sexy, even. Very dangerous.

“Thank you,” you happily sigh. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help with the studying. I really appreciate you both for doing that.” The lawyers look happy hearing that kind of praise and gratitude from you. “Well, you can thank us by helping us make it through this party,” Higuruma sighs. “After all, we need to show our law school graduate around to all of these fine, fun folk.”

He looks around the room, looking like he’s thinking anything but nice things about the guests. You snort to yourself. “Don’t we, Nanami?” he asks, smirking at the blonde. Nanami sighs to himself, looking absolutely done with being here. “I barely even want to be here. I almost want to be back in traffic.”

He turns to you now, a small smile playing on his lips. “But hearing about your grades makes it worth it all.” If only he could know how that makes you feel. The butterflies in your stomach have gone haywire.

You swallow, feeling the confidence of the champagne taking over. “W-Well, maybe next spring when I graduate, you both can come to the ceremony,” you nervously suggest. “It’s only right since you’re my bosses and mentors.” You give them a shy smile, peering up at them through your lashes.

The two lawyers look at each other blankly and then back at you. “Mentors?” Higuruma parrots. “We’re your mentors?”

Immediately, your confidence slips. “Well, you did help me study and you’ve shown me so much about the legal system. I look up to the both of you.” You bite your bottom lip, feeling as if you’ve said too much. You’re moving too fast. You’re overdoing it! “I-I’m sorry I assumed—“

“Don’t apologize,” Nanami firmly interrupts. His eyes are all aglow with a quiet passion you’ve never seen before. “We’d be honored to be your mentors…if that’s what you want.” Higuruma looks just as interested in the position, looking ready to drop everything and sign up.

You feel a big, dumb smile split across your face, giddy and joyful. “Then I’d be honored to call you my mentors,” you giggle. “Let’s toast to that too!” You raise your glass to clink with theirs, leading to another joint sip. You open your mouth to say more, to keep them standing here with you, but everyone at the party is just as excited to see the two attorneys as you are.

“Oh, there they are!” someone announces. You turn, finding one of the firm’s oldest lawyers walking over to Nanami and Higuruma. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two! C’mon, the chairman wants to see you.” He practically drags them away, blabbering on about the many guests here who want to meet them.

You watch them leave just as they turn to give you one last look, an apology in their gazes. You feel an immense pang of disappointment inside of you and you feel stupid for feeling that way. It’s a party! This is their job! Of course, they need to mingle and talk to other important people.

Yuki luckily comes to your rescue, strutting over to you with more snacks. “Oh, Y/N!” she exclaims, taking your hand. “There you are! Come here, you have to try these white chocolate raspberry bars before they’re gone!” She drags you off in a different direction from Nanami and Higuruma, widening the gap between you.

For the next hour, the party wears on like this: you on your side and your bosses on the other, all of you stuck being pulled in directions other than each other’s. You watch as they chat with chairmen and CEOs; attorneys and paralegals; city officials and policemen. It’s honestly annoying…probably because of the champagne you drink.

With every passing minute, you sip a bit more, feeling even lighter and riskier than your first glass. You’re pretty sure you’re on about four ½ glasses at this point, so much so that you start seeing things. You believe you feel Nanami’s eyes on your ass from across the room or Higuruma’s gaze straying away from a guest to check you out. Your risky, reckless behavior makes you smile at them from across the party, not realizing how flirty it may come off to them or someone else watching. But the idea of that doesn’t embarrass or mortify you. In fact, it turns you on.

But nothing even comes from it. You never find your way over to your lawyers. Disappointed, sleepy, and exhausted from walking around in heels, you decide to give your dogs and the alcohol a break. You go up to the bar situated on the left hand side of the ballroom and take a seat on one of the stools, ordering a club soda.

“That’s the easiest thing I’ve made all night!” the bartender exclaims, making you laugh. “God bless you!” After they finish whipping up your drink, you’re in the middle of a few needed sips when someone sits next to you. You turn, finding a young man in a suit that looks like Tom Hiddlestone and Timothy Chatlane had a baby.

The wavy-haired man in his suit smiles at you. “Your Nanami and Higuruma’s paralegal, right?” he asks. You shake your head. “Intern. Not a paralegal…yet.”

He nods, chuckling at your humor. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around the office before. I would’ve remembered a face like yours.” His tone is flirtatious and you pick up on it immediately. Usually, you’d disregard and ignore this, but tonight? You may just play along.

“Possibly,” you reply, lowering your soda. “I have one of those faces.” Feeling particularly chatty, you put a hand out for a shake. “I’m Y/N,” you blurt. “I’m an intern for the law firm on the sixth floor.” The man races to shake your hand, hanging on for longer than necessary. His palm is sweaty. “Ah, yes, the law interns,” he chuckles. “I’m Mark, an associate for an accounting firm. I’m up on the eighth.”

He flashes a pearly white smile that is probably supposed to make you swoon. “That explains why we haven’t seen each other,” you giggle. He laughs with you and you decide that he’s cute enough to waste time on at the party.

“Maybe this party is good for something then,” he flirtatiously says, his smile turning suggestive. “I was plannin’ on leaving soon ‘cause this crowd is dead, but you just might make me wanna stay.” And just like that, he pops the bubble on your fantasy plan. “Oh” is all you can say.

No doubt he is trying to get into your pants…or rather under your dress. You turn to sip your water in silence, trying to think of something to say to let him down easy. “Are you here with someone?” he asks and his hand goes crawling to yours again.

Now you really need to think of something fast. “Um” is all you can get out before a shadow descends upon you and him. You both turn to find Nanami standing there. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting, Mark?” he asks. He sounds apologetic, but you can tell he isn’t by the firm set of his lips.

The attorney beside you gives your boss a lop-sided smile. “Just my drink,” he jokes as the bartender passes him a whiskey. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Nanami?” He cocks his head to the side, drunk and cocky. “Sorry to cut in, but I need to steal Y/N away for a moment,” Nanami explains before turning to you. “We hate to do this now, but since you’re here, we’d like to plan out the schedule ahead of the holidays.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, your brain already switching into work mode. “Um…yeah, sure, of course.” You turn to Mark who looks less than pleased about being cockblocked. “It was nice meeting you, Mark. I’ll see you on the seventh floor one day.” The attorney only gives you a smile and side-eyes Nanami as you leave with him.

In silence, you two head to the elevators and Nanami presses the up button. You aren’t too sure why he and Higuruma are doing this now during a party, but you’ll wait to find out. When the elevator comes, Nanami lets you inside first and then follows behind you. When the doors close, you become hyper aware of him standing so close next to you. You can smell his cologne—spicy and musky like cinnamon. It makes your body react in very nasty ways.

“You won’t be seeing him,” he says. You blink, your fuzzy brain almost not catching that. “What?” you ask.

He turns to you, his eyes firm. “You won’t be seeing him,” he repeats. “Not to gossip, but the man is known to stick his dick where he makes his business. He’s slept with half of his department and a lot of his clients.”

You almost forget who the hell he is talking about until you remember (of course!) Mark. “Damn,” you scoff. “Well, thank you for the save…not that I was planning on sleeping with him or anything. He’s not my type.” You immediately flush, hot with shame and embarrassment. You shouldn’t have said any of that. ‘Fuck that champagne,’ you think.

However, Nanami silently chuckles to himself, finding it funny. But still, you beat yourself up. At least until you get to your floor. Nanami and Higuruma share an office space, their offices separated by a door where one can easily enter one room and exit the other. Nanami’s office consists of tan furniture, a plush couch where you often do your work, and his book collection while Higuruma’s office is all dark colors, polished Mahogany wood, and a mini bar. Some things they do share though are private bathrooms, personal thermostats, and a beautiful view of the skyline.

You walk down the hallway to the office with Nanami and enter his, finding Higuruma already there. “Took you two long enough,” he grumbles. Nanami’s office is dark, only lit by the full moon coating the floor in silver and illuminating Higuruma’s manly, handsome features.

Suddenly, your heart begins to pound. “S-So where’s the schedule?” you stammer. Nanami shuts the door behind you and walks up to stand beside Higuruma. “There is no schedule,” he confesses. “Sorry to bring you up here so randomly, but we didn’t want to do this in front of everyone.”

You scowl, confused. “Do what?” you ask, looking between them. The two give each other a look before Higuruma provides you with an envelope from under his suit jacket. “To give you this.”

You stare at the envelope, even more confused. Tentatively, you take it and look at them, unsure. “Open it,” Higuruma silently says with his eyes. Swallowing hard, you take a millisecond to mentally prepare yourself for what will be in the envelope and tear it open like you would a bandaid.

A folded letter flutters to your feet and you pick it up to read it. “On behalf of [the firm] and the departments of business and financial law, we would like to offer you a full time position as a legal assistant in the spring of 2025. Signed…” Your eyes grow big at the signatures. “Kento Nanami and Hiyomi Higuruma,” you exhale.

The two handsome men standing before you smile while you’re busy trying to resist the urge to pinch yourself. You have to be dreaming! You’ve gotta be! “Y-You’re offering me a job?” you softly ask. Higuruma smirks. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

Nanami nudges his partner in the arm. “We’ve noticed the work you’ve been putting in for us all these twelve months. Don’t think your hard work went unappreciated, Y/N. You’ve helped us a lot, even without us telling you, and for that, this is what we have to offer.” His gaze is soft, intimate. “This is just to get your foot in the door. Of course, you don’t have to stay forever and we’ll help you study for the BAR if you want to take it.”

Higuruma doesn’t add on, but he doesn’t have to. He, too, gazes down at you like everything Nanami is saying is true. You look down at the letter and then back up at them. “I….I don’t know what to say.” Higuruma’s smirk widens. “Say you’ll take the job.”

Finally, you break into a humongous smile and you jump up and down. “Yes!” you squeal. “Yes, yes, I’ll take it! Thank you both so much!” You go to toss yourself at them for a hug, but you make one misstep and nearly trip. You gasp, trying to find your footing.

Quickly, Nanami hooks his arm around your midsection, securing you in his arms. “Careful!” he exclaims, catching you. “That would’ve been nasty.” You should just tell him thank you and leave the comfort of his arms. You should just take the L now and leave before things get bad.

But you don’t. You make the mistake of staring up into his inviting eyes and soft, pink lips. His eyes gaze down to your mouth, his pupils dilating as if he sees something he likes…wants even. He leans down and so do you, and suddenly your lips are on his as you stand in the comfort of his embrace.

The kiss is short and gentle, but it’s sweet enough to steal your breath away. It is a kiss fit for a Disney movie ending. But just as soon as it happens, it ends and you both pull away, stunned. “Whoa,” he exhales.

Yes, whoa. Whoa, that was the best kiss you’ve ever had. Whoa, you just kissed your boss. Immediately, you jump back as if burned and over your mouth. “Oh, God,” you gasp. “I-I’m so sorry. I…oh, God.” You begin to shake, your eyes welling with tears. Regret and shame instantly fill you.

Higuruma steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. Nanami tries to come near you too, his gaze soft. “Y/N,” he softly says. You quickly side-step him and step away from Higuruma’s touch. “I have to go,” you sob. “I can’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.” You begin to panic, dropping the job acceptance letter in the process. You don’t try to pick it up.

“Wait, Y/N,” Nanami pleads. “Stay. It’s okay.” He walks toward you like you’re a wounded animal, gingerly and slowly. “No, it’s not!” you whimper. “I can’t believe I did this! I’m gonna ruin everything now! I-I—“

A hand grasps yours and pulls you close into his big, warm body. “Sweetheart, calm down,” Nanami soothingly says. “It’s okay.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. There, you begin to cry, big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and ruining your makeup. “It’s okay,” Nanami murmurs into your ear.

At the sound of his voice, you look up into his eyes and see that they are hooded and soft. Affectionate. When he leans in again, you don’t pull away. You let him kiss you, slow and deep, your lips moving in perfect tandem with each other. It is almost as if your lips are meant to kiss. Nanami’s big hand cups your face, tilting your head slightly to the side to meld your mouths together, earning a soft moan out of you. His hands slide down to your ass, caressing the bump made underneath your dress from it.

From the back, you feel Higuruma presses himself against you, his big hands sliding across your naked lower back and shoulders. His touch electrifies you. So do his kisses. When he begins to kiss your neck and shoulders, you pull away from Nanami, gasping. “H-Hang on,” you stutter.

He stops, his hands still on you. Questions flare in his hooded, brown eyes. “Tell us what you want, Y/N,” he says, his voice strained. “Tell us to stop and we swear to God, we’ll stop.” Nanami pauses too, slight pants leaving his lips. You want to apologize, to tell them that this isn’t right or proper or appropriate to do. This is so, so wrong.

But as you stand here in the dark sandwiched between your bosses, you’ve also never felt more right. “Keep going,” you softly beg. The lawyers descend upon you immediately, kissing, touching, and grinding their hips into you. You feel their hardened cocks press against your groin and your ass, giving you a taste of how you’re making them feel…and have made them feel for months now.

“We wanted this for so long,” Higuruma whispers into your neck. “You have no fuckin’ idea, Y/N.” His thick lips press down your spine, peppering your skin in wet kisses. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to pull your ass aside and do this to you.”

“So many times,” Nanami growls, his hands sliding up to your hips to indulge in them. “You make it so hard to control myself, darling.” You’re feeling the last of your self-control slipping, the pleasure too much to handle. You moan at every touch and kiss, loving that you can feel their defined muscles through their suits.

“Take it off,” you whisper and motion to your dress. The lawyers share a surprised look with each other that quickly melts into lust and need. “You tell us if you want us to stop, you understand?” Higuruma sternly asks. You nod, but that isn’t enough. “Words,” he states. “Give me your words. Speak up.”

Your nipples harden at his firm tone, loving how he puts you so effortlessly in your place. “Yes, sir,” you reply, the words feeling so natural to you. Higuruma sharply inhales, greatly affected by this. He quickly snatches one string out of the perfectly-tied knot at your neck, loosening your dress in one single act. The front slips off of you, revealing your hardened brown nipples and ass only covered by a black thong.

“Shit,” Nanami exhales while Higuruma chuckles. “So that’s why that ass looked so good tonight,” he murmurs, taking a handful of it for himself. “You should be forbidden from wearin’ dresses and pencil skirts around us, y’know. You make it very hard to concentrate on much.”

One of his big hands glides down your asscheeks to slide between your inner thighs. “But you know that, don’t you?” he whispers. His thick fingers slide against the wet cloth of your thong while Nanami feasts on your tits, molding and massaging them while his lips coat your nipples in saliva. “Oh, fuck,” you moan, tilting your head back at their ministrations.

“Naughty little thing,” Higuruma tuts, still rubbing you. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. You must’ve needed this from us, hm?” He presses his fingers up, rubbing your clit in circular motions. Your moans grow louder, leading Nanami to capture them with his mouth.

“You need to quiet down, baby,” Higuruma says, humored. “You’ll have the entire party comin’ up to see why our good little intern is makin’ so much noise.” Nanami pulls away to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I bet she wants that,” he whispers. “Bet she wants everyone to know what she’s doing to us.”

“I’m sure they do,” Higuruma chuckles. “This ain’t the first time we’ve walked around the office hard as rocks for her.” He rubs you a little harder, making you bite your lip at the sensations. Jealous, Nanami glares at his partner. “That’s enough, Hiromi,” he growls. “You need to share. You’re not the only one here.”

Higuruma glares back, but allows the blonde to take over. You watch with shaky breath as Nanami slowly kneels down, staring up at you as he does. “I wanna taste you,” he confesses. “I wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?” Delirious from the foreplay, you nod and in an instant, your leg is hiked over his shoulder and he is sloppily French kissing your pussy.

“Now look who’s bein’ fuckin’ greedy,” Higuruma growls, impatient. “I need a taste too. Scoot over.” “We’re both gonna tongue fuck that pussy now,” he whispers. “When you need to cum, you let yourself do it, got it?”

Once again, you gush at the tone of his voice, much to Nanami’s enjoyment. “Y-Yes, sir,” you whimper. Then all words cease to exist when Higuruma kneels behind you. For the next couple of minutes, your world is blinded by pleasure as you receive dual cunnilingus from your two bosses. “Oh, shiiiit!” you groan, grasping Nanami’s head and Higuruma’s hand on your hip just to hold onto something.

You feel as if you’re on a rollercoaster, getting pulled this way and that, your stomach fluttering from the bumpy ride and the rush. Your stomach flutters and your heart pounds with every grip of Higuruma’s hands on your ass holding you steady; every lap of Nanami’s tongue against your clit. Higuruma is busy sliding his tongue along your slit, his nose rubbing against your ass…which feels oddly good too!

Everything they do feels good. Your juices and their spit collide, mixing together and making everything way more stimulating and sensitive than normal. You grip Nanami’s blonde hair, pushing him closer to your clit, your breathing coming out in huffs. You can feel that knot in your core tightening the more your lawyers lick, lap, and suck at your sloppy, juicy little pussy, drinking away as if they’re both starving for you.

You don’t realize how loud you are until you hear yourself moaning throughout the empty office. “O-Oh, fuck!” you wail. “I’m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me—“

“Wait,” Higuruma hisses, suddenly shooting a hand up to cover your mouth. He stands up so fast that he scares the shit out of you, almost as if he teleported. “I hear footsteps.” Your heart explodes in your chest and Nanami immediately stops his pussy-eating to listen too.

There, outside in the hallway, you hear footsteps and muffled laughter. Neither one of you moves or even breathes, standing still as statues in the dark. Luckily, the voices and footsteps disappear when a door opens and closes, leaving you in silence once more. Higuruma looks down at Nanami, still shaken but also very horn. “Let’s get her on the desk,” he suggests, his gaze lustful. “She needs somethin’ for that mouth if she won’t shut the fuck up.”

A smile that you’ve never seen before grows on Nanami’s face, his glasses foggy and nearly falling off of his face. Quickly, he stands and scoops you up without a word, wrapping your legs around his waist. You squeak as you’re picked up, your heels dangling from around his hips. He is fast transporting you from the floor to the desk that is luckily free of any files or papers.

Nanami places you on his desk and takes off his glasses before proceeding to duck between your thighs. As he begins lapping at your cunt again, Higuruma comes over to your side, his groin at eye level. Ziiiiip goes his fly and out comes his big, thick, hard cock. Your body and pussy throb at the sight of him.

He stares down at you, lustful and demanding. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” he demands, taking off his suit jacket. “Put those pretty lips on me.” He rapidly begins uncuffing his sleeves and unbuttoning his top, revealing his mouthwateringly broad, hairy chest you want to nuzzle. You do as he says and wrap a hand around him to stroke him as you wrap your lips around his shaft.

Higuruma smiles…and he barely does that, so you must be doing a good job. “That’s it,” he groans. “Such a fuckin’ slut for me.” He wraps a hand in your hair and pulls you closer as he uses his other hand to pull his pants down farther, exposing his firm, plump ass. You become handsy, using one hand to feel up his body and delicious happy trail while you use the other to run your fingers through Nanami’s blonde locks.

You feel like a princess and a slut all at once, receiving the best of both worlds. Finally, that urge to release comes again and you whimper and slobber all over Higuruma’s cock as you get close. “Cum for me, darling,” Nanami groans into your pussy. “Do as you’re told. Cum all over my fuckin’ face right now.”

With a high-pitched squeal, you do, leaking and creaming all over Nanami’s tongue. He greedily laps you up as you write and shake on his desk, much to Higuruma’s enjoyment. He loves watching you ride out your orgasm with his dick in your luscious mouth, but fuck, is he jealous watching Nanami eat you out. “Don’t be greedy, Nanami,” he growls. “Give me some.”

Nanami rises from between your thighs, his hair a mess and his lips coated in you. Higuruma grabs him from the back of his neck and smashes their lips together. Right in front of you. You gape at them, shook and totally confused as they sloppily kiss, swapping spit and your cum between their mouths.

You had no idea they had a “thing” going on, but then again, you wouldn’t think you’d know. Nanami and Higuruma are very private people. But shit, is it hot to see them make out in front of you for only your eyes only.

When they pull away, Higuruma smirks down at you. “Look at this naughty girl gettin’ off to us,” he snorts. “You won’t go tellin’ people about us, right, baby?” You shake your head as best as you can with his cock still sliding in and out of your mouth, making him groan at the vibrations.

Nanami watches, quickly stripping off his jacket and shirt to expose his beautiful muscles and chest pebbled in fine, blonde hair. “I can’t fuckin’ take much more,” he huffs. “I need to fuck you now or I’ll lose my mind.” He begins toying with your tits, massaging one while Higuruma plays with the other. “Tell me you want that too. Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

Higuruma pinches one of your nipples, causing your mouth to open wide on a gasp and his big cock to slip out. “Need you,” you gasp out. “Both of you. I don’t care how! Please just fuck me!” You’ve never been so fucking horny in your life. You feel as if you’ll die if you don’t cum again now.

The two lawyers look at each other, both contemplating how to maneuver this as if you’re a case they can’t quite figure out how to win. “You go first,” Higuruma suggests. “I wanna fuck her throat a little more.” Nanami doesn’t need to be told twice, his eyes molten with lust. “Bend over,” he demands and you do, assuming the position.

The two groan at the sight of your plump ass exposed over Nanami’s desk, your heels still on. They both give your ass an open-palmed smack, making you gasp at the pleasurable sting. “So good at taking orders,” Nanami murmurs in your ear. “I like that. That’s what good girls do.” He gives your cheek a peck before finally, he slides his cock against your pussy and slowly slides himself inside of you.

You both gasp at the sensations, your pussy walls squeezing around him as they become accommodated to his size. He is thick and long, making you feel so full and so stretched. Nanami murmurs sweet nothings in your ear as he coaxes you to rub your clit, making you wetter. Once you’re finally relaxed is when he proceeds to grab your hips and fuck your shit up.

His desk shakes slightly as he pistons into you, his hips slamming into your ass, causing the sound of skin slapping against skin to echo throughout the room. Your moans and cries are loud and clear, possibly audible even to the party. “Fuck!” you loudly moan. “Oh, my God, yes!”

Another cock slaps against your mouth and slides in, not stopping until it is in your throat. “Uh-uh, baby,” Higuruma chuckles. “Too loud. Little slut just can’t help herself, can she, Nanami?” His partner is too busy ramming your cunt to answer, doing his best to hold back his moans and gasps.

Higuruma snorts. “Neither can you, apparently.” Nanami glares at him, silently telling him to fuck off as he presses his front into your back, pushing himself deeper. “Push back on me, darling. Fuck me back.” You do as he orders, tossing your ass back into him and pushing yourself farther onto his wonderful cock. “Good girl!” he moans. “Needed this for so long. Needed you so bad.”

He murmurs and babbles into your shoulder, suckling on it as he pounds into your wet heat over and over again. It doesn’t take you long for you to feel the urge to cum again as Nanami’s balls slap against your needy clit, stimulating you further. “M’cwumming!” you whine around Higuruma’s cock just as that second intense wave washes over you.

“Good girl,” Nanami grunts, holding your shaking body close as your pussy walls grip and stroke him. “Such a good, good girl for me.” He slows his pace but continues to fuck you, edging you and making your orgasm last even longer. Your head feels dizzy and your thighs are slick with cum, but they’re not done yet.

“Let’s switch,” Nanami tells Higuruma. “I need to feel her mouth.” Higuruma looks ready to fuck a hole in a wall with the wild look he has in his eyes. They slowly pull out of you and switch spots, Higuruma now behind you while Nanami is in front. Just as quickly as they switched, they slide back into your holes again.

“Shit, baby,” Higuruma hisses, gripping your hips in his big, calloused hands. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. I can get so deep.” His hand wraps around your throat while Nanami fucks it, groaning at its tightness. “You want it deeper, don’t you?” he teasingly asks. “You want me to fuck this pussy till it cums again?”

“Mmm-hmm!” you desperately whine. Nothing sounds better to you right now. You are drunk off of the pleasure and these two sexy men, needing their cocks and cum like you need air to breathe.

The two begin to fuck you in tandem with each other, one pulling out while the other pushes in, filling up one of your holes. You have never loved being used before, feeling like an office slut for them. Maybe this can be one of your duties—sucking and fucking them when they are stressed at work. Wouldn’t that be so nice? Your body certainly thinks so.

Higuruma’s heavy balls slap against your clit as he pistons into you, making the desk shake. “Fuck, baby!”he grunts. “You’re gonna make me cum soon.” Nanami lets out an agreeable moan, fucking your throat. “M-Me too,” he stammers. “You’re gonna be our good little assistant and take our cum for us, darling?”

Before you can even think about answering or trying to, you hear something. Knock, knock, knock. “Um…Mr. Higuruma?” someone calls outside the door. “Mr. Nanamin, are you in there? It’s Itadori!” Instantly, the two lawyers grow still and anxiety pushes your hormones out the door.

“Shit!” Higuruma hisses. He clears his throat, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t just pumping you full of his cock. “Y-Yes, we’re in here,” he calls. “Do you need something, Itadori?”

Yuji Itadori is by far one of the cutest and sweetest interns in the firm, so you don’t feel too angry about being interrupted. Just extremely sexually frustrated. “One of the lawyers sent me up here to fetch you,” Itadori explains. “They’re about to start the anniversary speech in about fifteen minutes!”

Slowly, Higuruma and Nanami begin to fuck you again, moving tortuously slow. You can feel yourself growing closer to orgasm and do your best to keep quiet, glad to have something in your mouth. “We’ll be down soon,” Nanami replies. “Thank you, Itadori.”

“You betcha!” Itadori chirps. “Oh, and if you see Y/N, tell her that the cake is out! I saved her a slice!” Then off he goes, his footsteps disappearing down the hall and the ding of the elevator slicing through the silence. Once he’s gone, you all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“Now then,” Higuruma growls, “let’s make this little slut cum before we get caught.”

Your bosses make do with the time they have and fill your holes with each vigorous, pounding thrust that makes both your mouth and pussy salivate. The office is filled with the sounds of your hushed moans, creaky desk legs, and the light slapping of skin as Higuruma fucks and fucks and fucks your pussy like a machine.

When he finally feels you squeezing around him, he slides one hand down between you to rub your clit. “Cum for me,” he urges you. “Give it to me, baby. Cum on that dick now.”

Maybe it’s the way he talks you through it or how Nanami sounds fucking your face or the fact that you’re on a time crunch, but the third orgasm quickly crashes down onto you as despite its slow buildup. It is just as tense as the first two, making you whine around Nanami’s cock as your cunt massages and strokes Higuruma off.

“Fuck!” he grunts. “I’m about to cum too. Where you want it, baby? Tell me now before I make the decision for you.”

“O-On me!” you gasp out, still in the throes of your orgasm. “Do it on me! Anywhere you want!”

Quickly, Higuruma pulls his cock, sobbing wet with your cum, out of you while Nanami ruts into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. Their sexy, deep moans and grunts of release fill the air as each hot load of cum coats your ass and your tongue.

You shudder and deliriously giggle as they cum, feeling all of that pleasure and the high from your orgasm collide. As your orgasms pass, you three pant and huff in the darkness, recovering from the activity.

Clearing his throat, Nanami pulls out of your mouth, allowing you to swallow his load. Meanwhile, Higuruma takes some tissues from the desk and sops up his cum up from your ass. Though it is sweet, it is also very, very awkward. ‘Of course, it is, you slut!’ you critically think. ‘You just fucked your fucking bosses!’

Once Higuruma finishes, he tosses the tissues away and steps away to allow you to freely move. You stay laid across the desk, not wanting to look up and see the regret in their eyes. You clear your throat, trying to ease the awkward tension. “Well, that’s one way to celebrate a job offer,” you breathlessly say.

It works. The two lawyers begin to laugh, their deep, rumbling chuckles appealing to your ear. Finally, you look up and find them smiling. “Yes, it is,” Nanami chuckles, eyes and cheeks aglow. “You were amazing, darling.” His pet name and the praise makes your stomach flutter like a school girl’s when she sees her crush.

“Hope you don’t go givin’ that to any other employer in your future,” Higuruma chuckles, his body and forehead glistening in sweat. Your eyes drink in his body, committing his and Nanami’s to memory.

Your stomach flips, glad to see that things aren’t awkward or weird anymore. You move to sit up on Nanami’s desk, facing both of your bosses. “Oh, trust me…I won’t. I doubt I’d have any employers as sexy as you two.” You stare up at them through your lashes, earning two sweet kisses on the lips in response as if they are your boyfriends. Not your bosses.

”The feeling is mutual,” Higuruma sighs. “You have no idea how long we’ve wanted to do that with you.” Nanami hums in response, gently moving a strand of hair behind your ear, but it’s really just an excuse to touch you. Despite the tenderness, you can’t keep denying the pink elephant in the room. “So…what now?” you ask.

The two lawyers stare at you blankly, obviously not quite getting what you mean. Higuruma laughs, already buttoning up his shirt. “Well, if you mean in the present tense, I suggest we all get cleaned up and go back to the party before someone comes lookin’ for us again.”

Nanami pulls his pants up, fastening his belt. You watch, doing your best to swallow that lump in your throat. That isn’t what you meant….but what else could you mean? Surely, you don’t think this can be anything real or official. Friends with benefits or fuck buddies, sure. But actually dating your bosses? Your employers and mentors? That would be a tale for the entire firm to gossip about.

So you hang your tail between your legs and push away your disappointment. “Oh…yes, of course,” you softly say. “We definitely should. Uh…can one of you help me with my dress?”

You stand and turn around for Nanami to help you tie your dress behind your neck. You do the rest, hiding your face from them as it flushes with embarrassment. You don’t want them to see you cry if you do. You can’t tell what you’ll do off of the Brüte champagne. After you finish dressing and checking your hair to make sure it doesn’t look too suspicious, the lawyers first check the hall to see if it’s empty.

Then they lead you down the hall to the elevator. None of you speak. The air is tense again with silence and your shoes clicking across the floor, the gravity of your decision swirling in the air like cigarette smoke. Pungent, heady, and inescapable. You feel regretful of your decision immediately despite how good and right it felt in the moment. You wouldn’t be surprised if Higuruma and Nanami revoked the job offer tomorrow morning.

You press the elevator button and the box luckily comes pretty quick. The lawyers let you in first before moving in behind you. Higuruma presses the button to the lobby and the doors close. Now in close proximity to them again, you’re aware of both men standing on either side of you, facing ahead. You clutch your purse to your stomach, biting your lip to avoid blurting something dumb.

“If you meant “what now” as in what about us, I hope you realize that this isn’t just a fling for us,” Higuruma says, his deep voice filling the tight space. “It can be if you want it to be, but if you’d like this to be more official, I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” Your mouth falls agap as you gape at him. He stares back, his eyes intense and unmoving.

“Me either,” Nanami adds. “Excuse my language and call me a selfish motherfucker, but I can’t say the idea of seeing you with another man other than my partner doesn’t tick me off.” His fingers dance across your lower back, giving you shivers. Delicious shivers that only grow as the fact of the matter processes in your mind: this is real now.

Better say this now than never then. You slowly take their hands in both of yours, your heart stuttering. “I’d like that too,” you shyly admit. “But maybe we can keep this on the low for now? Just until I start my new job, at least.”

Ding the elevator goes as you finally arrive to the lobby. Nanami smiles, running his thumb along your knuckles. “If that’s what you want, Ms. L/N,” he teases. “See you after the speech.” Higuruma gives your hand a squeeze before he releases it and fixes his tie just as the doors open onto the lobby.

As you walk out of the elevator, you feel two hands open-palm smack you against your ass. You squeak, hiding your smile as the two lawyers stride away to the stage entrance to the ballroom as if nothing happened.

You take another entrance, walking through the one that cuts into the middle of the ballroom. You immediately find your intern group standing by the stage waiting for the speech to begin and strut over to them, unable to keep your hips from swaying. It is as if your lawyers amped your confidence up to about one hundred.

Yuki turns to you, a slice of cake in her hand. “There you are!” she announces. “Look, Yuji’s cute ass left you some cake! Where the hell have you been?”

You give her a smile and take the plate from her, needing something sweet to end your night off right. “I just got a job offer.”

THE END.

[queer-tssides]

There is no fandom I have seen be as unfairly mean to its creator than sanders sides in the past few years. ACTUAL BIG BUDGET SHOWS with endless resources and people working full time on it have had YEARS LONG hiatus' but because Thomas, one guy, is leaning towards shorter videos and Having Merchandise people are HORRIBLE towards him. I feel like it needs to be emphasised that he is not a showrunner. He is literally a youtuber and creator who is releasing what he likes to make and YOU are the FANS. He chose to start doing sanders sides, but does that mean he is no longer allowed do other things? I mean hes still MAKING stuff and it's still not good enough? You know he would be completely in his right to simply NOT make any sanders sides stuff because it's HIS SERIES? That stuff is SO HARD to make. He is playing, by now, SEVEN CHARACTERS? And the videos have gone from like 6 minutes to THIRTY. Not to mention how MUCH goes into every script and the editing, ETC. But you must understand, even if it took no work at all, even if he HAD all the money and time and people...he still does not OWE you more installments in his series. I wouldn't be surprised if he regrets ever making it in the first place with the needless pressure on him to do it. It was supposed to be fun, just another series to do on his YouTube channel. It is not a RESPONSIBILITY to keep making a comedy series on youtube. It's actually awful to see how many people are so RESENTFUL towards him for doing other things. He released a song recently, with Terrence, and a music video where they danced together. Because he wanted to! Is that not enough WORK because it's the wrong project for him to do? You can be disappointed, sure, if you were looking forward to more BIG sanders sides videos instead of the shorter ones. I am too! But that is NOT a reason to be as horrible as a lot of people are being. He is a type of creator who deserves your hate the LEAST. It is FREE, it is completely accessible. If you have his patreon, you can LEAVE. All of this bitterness towards him is so sad to see.

[a-couple-of-notes]

What are your thoughts on poly coven and if you do have have any what would the dynamic be?

You folks really want that Agatha All Along fic about all the different dynamics, don't you? 😂😂😂 (Referencing this ask--although I suppose I have no way of knowing whether this is the same anon. Thank you for the ask regardless!)

I enjoy poly coven, although I haven't read much of it! In my mind, there are two general ways to approach this: one where Billy functions as their non-romantic glue (the Billy-has-seven-moms approach) and one (more interesting imo) where we nix Billy altogether and let it be a true dumpster fire.

Billy Has Seven Moms:

The single thing they all agree on (no one believes Agatha when she equivocates, and Rio doesn't snarl about it, which is as close to agreement as they'll get) is that the kid comes first.

Agatha and Jen both provide a practical kind of mentorship: technical magical study, potion-making, spells. They snark at each other during lessons ("What happened to 'presenting a united front'?" says Agatha) and if Jen doesn't back off, Alice, Billy, or Lilia step in to stop it from going all the way downhill. Agatha and Jen fuck it out later.

Lilia mentors Billy in history, tarot, and witch culture--all the soft skills that Agatha and Jen aren't proficient in. She enjoys the quiet respect that all of the coven, but especially Billy and Alice, holds for her. She and Alice trade off nights cooking; Lilia's go-to recipes are old Sicilian favorites.

Alice is Billy's Normal Stable Person (TM), a fact that at one point sends Alice into a panic spiral that Agatha and Jen have to drag her out of. She's the one Billy comes to when he needs someone who understands what it's like to be a kid on your own--when he's having a tough time with someone else in the coven, when he's feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of mothers in his life. Alice teaches him guitar, and then, very hesitantly, protection spells passed down to her from Lorna.

Rio mopes around like a disgruntled housecat, never quite looking at Billy. The only time she does is when Billy announces he wants to make a Sharon Davis memorial garden. She doesn't help, of course, not in any way that Billy sees. But she does watch.

Of course, this well-oiled mentorship program works only as long as Billy is with them on the timeshare schedule. As soon as he's gone, it's like a ghost house with five roommates who hate each other's guts. If they still have separate places of residence, they all leave (except for the times when Jen is so annoyed with Agatha they bang first). If they actually do live in the same house, they all go into their separate rooms.

Then they seek each other out in pairs or trios, depending on what they want. Alice and Jen seek each other out when they want a normal date night; Rio seeks Lilia when she wants to talk shop about the old days; Agatha seeks Alice when it's been a hard day and she wants someone to be quiet about it. (Although let's be real: if Agatha's seeking someone out, it's also usually to fuck.)

Sometimes these pairs have a good time together; other times it turns into a fight that someone else cleans up. Lilia keeps count.

The only time the whole coven joins together sans Billy is when there's a threat. Usually to Agatha. Sometimes (futilely) to Rio. It always ends in massive property damage and murder, and there's an 80% chance the five of them have messy wow-we're-all-still-our-version-of-alive-sex afterward.

Agatha makes lots of divorce jokes.

No Billy, Just Chaos:

It's worse.

You know, I'm not even gonna bulletpoint this out because it's slowly growing into its own fic idea, but--in a poly coven where there's no Billy, everything happens a lot quicker and dirtier. (This is also because it veers wildly off-canon, and we're dealing with these characters before they've arced out. You know, the nasty, messy versions of them.)

Of course there's still got to be something forcing them together--soulmarks! Billy dies in episode 4 and leaves them in a crumbling Road illusion! The Salem Seven invade Westview and they all pick the same hiding spot!--but the thing keeping them together would not then be a kid. It would not be someone with a good heart they all care about. It would be one of Agatha's freakishly charismatic cons, utter fear, or a combination of both. Thus, everyone would spiral toward their most feral selves fast.

To wit: Jen and Agatha skip straight to the hate sex, Rio gets amused and jealous and jumps in. Alice, having no kid to protect, focuses her efforts on Lilia (the coven's elder) and Agatha (the coven's leader). This brings Alice directly into the snare that is Rio/Agatha/Jen, becoming--if we're being kind--their right hand and--if we're being truthful--their pet. Lilia considers herself above this weird fucked-up power tangle, but she and Rio have centuries of history, and Rio is almost as good as Agatha at annoying people into making bad decisions. It would be terrible. It would be glorious.