#it's not about the story. it's about the writing itself.
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Postmortem:
This post really blew up, but more because of an addition someone else made than for the post itself. I'm not super satisfied with this work though. I would make changes if I did it again.
The office setting made a lot of people think this was meant to be about capitalism, which it kind of isn't, really, at least not specifically. If i went back, I would change the office to a skate park. That retains the sense of fable like absurdity while divorcing it from existing preconceptions the rest might have about where the story is going.
I also don't like the last line. It editorialises too much, tells instead of shows, tries to impose the message rather than letting the audience consider their own conclusion. If I went back, I would change the last line to "for a while there, a lot less people were falling in the spike pit..." which i think gets more to the heart of what's happening there.
It's easy to blame the audience for misreading your work but I think that can hamper your communication skills. It can help to look back and consider what you could do differently if you find your intentions are regularly misread. And it's also important to distinguish being misinterpreted with being disagreed with: you can never write a statement so didactic that nobody will think you're wrong.
There's an open pit in the middle of our office plan that drops down into a bunch of very sharp spikes that kill you instantly. This is bad. People keep falling in there and dying. Someone put a sign up, the other day, all bright yellow so you can't miss it, that says "Beware!!! Spikes!!!"
The office immediately split into two factions over it. One says that if anyone falls in the spike pit it's their own fault for being so stupid and not watching where they're walking, so we should remove the sign. The other says that the sign is an insult, there shouldn't be a spike pit in our office at all, and having the sign up like that is just normalising the existence of the spike pit, so we should remove the sign.
We ended up removing the sign. Probably for the better. Still... for a while there it looked like it might have worked...
#for example: that ask i just responded to?#that guy got the point of the story perfectly#100 percent comprehension#they just disagreed with it!#this will happen.#txt
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story of my life
pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader
summary: what are you willing to do for the love of your life?
warnings: !major spoiler for obx4 final!, angst, establish relationship, nearly death experience, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language
word count: 2.8k
a/n: requested by this ask. i still haven't found the strength to watch s4, but i like to write about it. you know, after all this emotionally difficult month, all your requests help me not to go crazy. so thank you very much.
áŻâ
now playing...
one direction - story of my life
YOU HAD ALWAYS LOVED LIFE. Even through all the chaos and heartbreak, you clung to it with fierce devotion, treasuring every moment. Your greatest dream wasnât wealth or fame â it was to live boldly, to see the world in vivid color, to grow old with stories of wild adventures alongside the Pogues, the family you had found and held so dear. They were your anchor, your everything.
But life, for all its beauty, has taught you a bitter truth: it isnât always fair. More often than not, it is harsh and unrelenting, a storm that leaves you scrambling for shelter. Youâd learned to accept that, to carry on, to find joy even in the darkest corners. And you did, always.
What you never prepared for â what you could never imagine â was just how cruel it could truly be.
You werenât ready for the knife. You werenât ready for the split-second decision, the instinct that drove you to shield him, to put yourself in harmâs way without hesitation. All you cared about at that moment was that JJ would be safe. And he was.
But you?
No amount of planning or foresight could have prepared you for this â the searing pain, the hot Moroccan sand beneath you, and the endless blue sky above, eerily reminiscent of home. Youâd spent your life navigating every twist and turn, surviving every trial fate threw at you, but now your strength ebbed away with every heartbeat.
Life really was cruel.
You and the Pogues had always known that, enduring its relentless trials together, earning your scars the hard way. But this? This was different. This was a cruelty youâd never known â a cruelty you couldnât accept.
It wasnât the dying that broke you, even though your dream of growing old with stories to tell burned brightly in your chest until the very end. Death itself wasnât what hurt most. You had danced with it so many times before, always escaping, always one step ahead.
No, what shattered you was the sight of JJ Maybank, the boy who had stolen your heart and become your everything, cradling you as life slipped through your fingers. His tears fell like rain, his voice hoarse from screaming for help that wouldnât come. His hands trembled, desperately trying to hold you together, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to defy the inevitable.
That was the real cruelty. Watching his world break as yours faded.
But now, as you stared up at the endless blue sky, its hue so much like his eyes and the tranquil ocean, it didnât seem so cruel after all. Dying to save the person you loved most â it wasnât a punishment. It was a gift, wasnât it? To offer your life for the one who taught you how to love â that was a blessing.
A soft smile touched your lips as you reached out a trembling hand to his face, your fingers brushing his cheek, catching the tears that fell like rivers. His pain was unbearable to witness, but the warmth of his skin under your touch grounded you, even as the world slipped further away.
âJay,â you whispered, your voice thin and fractured, each word scraped from a well of pain you refused to show him. You had always been strong â for the Pogues, for him. You couldnât stop now. âItâs okay. Iâm okay.â
He froze, his frantic movements stilling for a moment as your words cut through his panic. You swallowed hard, pushing down the agony clawing at your chest, determined to ease the fear in his eyes, if only a little.
âThe luck had to run out eventually,â you continued, a faint chuckle escaping despite the weight crushing your lungs. âAnd, honestly? Dying in the arms of my first and only love⌠Thatâs pretty romantic, donât you think? Iâm like the main character in one of those cheesy teen dramas you hate so much.â
The effort of your laugh sent a sharp jolt of pain through your body, pulling a wet cough from your lips. The metallic tang of blood filled your mouth, and your chest burned with the force of it. You tried to hide it, but JJ saw â of course, he saw.
His face crumpled, and the desperation in his voice pierced through you like the knife had. âNo. No. No. Youâre not dying. I wonât let you die.â
His hands trembled as he held you, his grip firm yet unbearably gentle, as if afraid youâd slip away entirely if he let go. He rocked you slightly, his movements uneven and frantic, his voice cracking as he screamed for help, calling out for the others, begging the universe to give him just one more miracle.
âYou canât leave me,â he choked out, his words tumbling over one another in a broken, frantic rush. âYouâre not getting rid of me that easy, you hear me? Iâll pester you until youâre old and gray. Forever. Thatâs the deal, remember?â
His words wavered, drenched in panic and pain, as if sheer determination alone could defy the inevitable. You wanted to tell him it was okay, that heâd be okay, that you didnât regret a single thing. But the truth was, seeing him like this â the boy who was your whole world shattered and breaking â hurt more than the knife ever could.
 A soft, broken laugh escaped your lips, each tremor in your chest sending ripples of pain through your body. Breathing felt like trying to hold onto smoke â fleeting and agonizing. Why did it have to hurt so much? You drew a shallow, shaky breath, your hand brushing over JJâs tear-streaked cheek. He clung to you like you were the only solid thing left in his crumbling world, his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted with anguish. Â
Even now, even like this, he was beautiful. It wasnât fair. Â
Youâd thought it a hundred times before, over the years spent by his side. No matter the situation, no matter how disheveled or broken, JJ Maybank always carried a beauty that was effortless and infuriating. He was a contradiction â a masterpiece painted in chaos â and you could never look at him without being reminded of how deeply, unfairly he had your heart. Â
You had seen him in every state imaginable: bloodied and bruised, grinning through the pain, laughing so hard he couldnât breathe, or asleep under the stars with his face softened by peace he rarely found. Even in his worst moments, when life dragged him down to its cruelest depths, he was breathtaking. You used to joke that Aphrodite herself must have crafted him, a cruel trick of divine perfection meant to mock you. Â
But it wasnât a joke now, lying here in his arms. Because you knew youâd never see the life youâd imagined with him. Â
Youâd thought about it more times than you could admit: the way his children would carry his same irresistible charm, the way his hair might gray but his smile would never lose its boyish mischief, the way youâd both grow old together, teasing and bickering like you always did. But none of that would happen now. Â
You wouldnât be there to see it. Â
You wouldnât see the Pogues again, wouldnât see John B and Sarah raising a family, wouldnât wake up in JJâs arms to greet the sunrise and talk about life like it was endless. All those dreams, those plans â they were dissolving, fading into the hot Moroccan sand beneath you, slipping from your grasp like water through trembling fingers. Â
But at least youâd die saving him. Â
JJâs voice cracked, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. âWe should have stayed... I should have listened to you... I...â He repeated the words in a frantic, looping mantra, his tone raw with regret, his breath hitching as though saying it enough times could rewrite the moment. As though this were some nightmare he could will himself to wake from. Â
And maybe it would have been a dream â a bad one â if theyâd all just listened to you. If they hadnât chased after the crown, if theyâd let greed and desperation go. Maybe youâd be lying in the chateau right now, the sunlight warming your skin, talking about tomorrow with hope instead of fear. Â
But life didnât work like that. Â
You knew this outcome was inevitable. Youâd known something was off, a shadow lurking on the edge of this adventure. Youâd felt it in your bones. But even so, you couldnât walk away. You couldnât leave your family behind. Â
Because they wouldnât have made it without you. Â
You were the glue that held them together, the one who kept the chaos from consuming them all. You cooked when they forgot to eat, bandaged wounds when they refused to stop, made plans when they leapt without looking. You were the mother, the voice of reason, the protector. You carried their burdens as if they were your own, no matter how heavy they became. Â
And youâd never leave them in trouble. Even if it meant leaving the world behind.Â
âHey, hey, itâs not your fault,â you murmured, your voice trembling but steady enough to cut through his despair. With a shaky hand, you wiped the tears from his face, your fingers brushing against the salt trails on his skin. âI couldnât leave you. I couldnât... leave you alone.â
âBut thatâs what youâre doing now!â JJ cried, his voice cracking like a childâs. A loud, broken sob tore from his lips as he pulled you closer, holding you as if sheer force could tether you to him. The raw pain in his eyes shattered you more than the knife ever could. âYouâre leaving me! It shouldâve been me! Whyâ why did you take it all on yourself?â
âJJ...â you whispered, your fingers threading weakly through his hair, softer than youâd ever imagined. The sunlight kissed the golden strands, turning him into something otherworldly â a fragile angel, aching and broken. Your vision blurred, the world dissolving into a haze, but you clung to him, fighting to stay present. For him.
âI did it because you have to live,â you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your words. âBecause you deserve to live. You deserve a happy ending.â
Your breath hitched, and a cough wracked your body, leaving a metallic tang on your lips. A thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of your mouth, but you ignored it, your focus entirely on him. On the boy you loved more than life itself.
âYou deserve a happy life more than anyone, JJ,â you continued, the words fragile but unyielding. âYou have to go on your adventures, see the world, make your dreams come true... I...â You paused, gathering the last fragments of your strength. âAt home, under my bed, thereâs a box. It has the money left from El Dorado...â
A faint, bittersweet smile touched your lips as the truth of it all washed over you like the tide. Every decision, every moment over the last few months had led to this. Saving that money, denying yourself fleeting indulgences â it had all been for this. Deep down, maybe youâd known. Maybe youâd felt it all along, the shadow of inevitability hanging over you.
From the very beginning, when the crown became a glimmering temptation, youâd sensed it. Something about it felt wrong, like a weight in your chest that wouldnât ease. You hadnât wanted to go â youâd begged them to stay, to stop chasing after danger and live, just live. But they wouldnât have listened, not even to you.
And so youâd gone. Because they needed you.
The irony struck you now, sharp and bitter, and you almost laughed. All youâd wanted was a simple life â a reprieve from the constant running, the relentless searching, the near brushes with death. Youâd only wanted one quiet moment to breathe.
But life had never let you stop.
âTake the money,â you whispered, your voice thin but insistent. âLeave. Start over. Find your happiness, JJ. Live... for me.â
Your fingers lingered on his cheek, memorizing the warmth of him, the boy who had been your whole world. The tears falling from his eyes pooled at the edges of your smile.
Even as the edges of the world began to fade, you clung to one truth: you would give everything for him. And you had.
âDonât you dare do that,â JJ choked out, shaking his head as if denying the reality before him could rewrite it. His trembling hand brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, the tenderness in his touch breaking your heart anew. âDonât you dare say goodbye,â he sobbed, pressing a desperate kiss to your head. His arms rocked you gently, cradling you as though the rhythm alone could anchor you to him. âWeâll do it all together, you hear me? Weâll start over. Weâll visit every corner of this damn world. Weâll grow old together... I wonât â I canât let you leave me like this.â
You tried to answer, but your body betrayed you. It was slipping further out of your control, growing lighter, weightless, like a feather carried off by the wind. Still, you smiled â soft, faint, but filled with all the love you couldnât put into words.
Your eyes fluttered shut, the pull of oblivion so strong, but you forced them open again. Over and over, you fought against it, clinging to the fragile thread of life. Not for yourself â for him. For the dreams you had spun together in quiet moments, the ones you had whispered into the dark when the world felt too heavy.
You thought of those dreams now, pulling them close like a lifeline.
Youâd planned it all, written it down in the little diary you kept hidden away since you were a child. Its pages were filled with messy sketches of hearts and scrawled dreams, and in so many of them was his name â your best friend, your everything. Back then, you were too shy to confess your feelings, too scared of what losing him might mean. But that little girl, the one who poured her heart onto those pages, would be over the moon now. Sheâd never believe JJ Maybank had become hers.
How many times had you imagined the life youâd build together? Leaving Kildare behind, hand in hand, to find new adventures in the wide, open world. Finding that perfect spot by the sea â a place that felt like home. Slowly, brick by brick, youâd build a new life together, one where all the scars and broken pieces of your pasts didnât matter anymore.
You could almost see it. The day JJ would propose.
Heâd plan it for weeks, determined to make it perfect, pouring over every clichĂŠ from the romantic comedies you adored. Heâd rehearse speeches in secret, dragging John B and Pope into his schemes, pestering them to help him nail every detail. And yet, on the day itself, when he finally saw you, everything heâd practiced would vanish.
Heâd forget the rehearsed words, the plans, everything but you.
JJ would drop to one knee, his hands shaking as he pulled out a small, worn ring â the one heâd kept hidden for years, a precious piece of his motherâs legacy. Heâd hold it out to you, his voice cracking as he whispered the only words that mattered: Be mine. Forever.
And you would be. Youâd take his hand, slip on that ring, and promise him everything. Youâd become the happiest girl in the world, every piece of your soul woven into his.
Forever.
But now, forever felt impossibly far away.
âI love you, JJ Maybank,â you whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of a lifetime. Your gaze lingered on his sea-blue eyes, anchoring yourself in their depth, memorizing every detail â the way they shimmered like sunlight on water, the way they always felt like home.
âYouâve become my dream.â
The words left your lips like a prayer, soft and eternal. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the pull of exhaustion, and slowly, they closed. Darkness crept in, warm and quiet, wrapping around you like JJâs arms â steady, protective, safe. If this was death, it wasnât cruel. It was peace. And if this was how it felt to go, you thought, then you would gladly endure it a thousand times over just to feel him near.
But as the silence deepened and the void seemed to pull you further away, a voice rose above it â a sound so strong, so certain, it cut through the emptiness like a lifeline.
âI wonât leave you. Never.â
His voice was raw, desperate, but unshakably firm, as if willing the universe to bend to his promise.
And you believed him.
You fell, your body surrendering to the weightlessness, but the thought of him grounded you. You held on to his words, letting them guide you like a beacon through the dark.
Even as the void swallowed you whole, there was a certainty buried deep within your heart.
When you opened your eyes again, you knew he would be there.
thankx for reading <3
I love one direction. I love jj maybank. and I love this fic. but I don't like killing characters. I can't write about death after Liam and JJ's death, it's very hard for me, so I decided to leave the ending kinda open? for me, the reader is still alive, but if you like dramatic endings, then you can end the story on the death of the reader.
and as usual, you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3
                  â your santi đŞ
masterlist
#â santi đŞ#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank fic#jj maybank x you#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank#jj maybank x fem!reader#obx x you#obx#obx x reader
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My feelings about deleting fic stem from personal experience.
I once wrote a fic that I new was going to have niche appeal, but which ended up upsetting the entire tiny fandom. The fandom was small enough that everyone knew everyone, it was really more of a social circle. These were my friends and I'd written something that made them unhappy. They weren't angry with me or anything, but the general tone was politely disguised squick and a few "oh... uh... I did not expect that for these characters :(" comments.
So I orphaned it.
Ten years later, I deeply regret this descision. My unhappiness about the initial reception has faded and I'm proud of the fic itself, and the people who were disapointed with it at the time have moved on and it doesn't colour their feelings towards me or their perception of my more recent writing.
But I lost that fic from my profile, and I regret this.
I regret orphaning it, I wish I'd just switched it to anon to assuage my feelings at the time, but I'm very glad I orphaned instead of deleting.
In addition to my own experience here, I hear a lot of stories from people who deleted fic and then a decade or two later are angry with themselves beause the fic is now lost forever.
I hear very few stories from people who deleted fic a decade ago and still feel they made the right descision, and those stories are usually from people who were writing spitefic, spam, or other works deliberately created to disrupt the experience of readers. A few are from people who were dealing with a stalker or having massive hate campaigns launched against them, and they consider the fic itself an acceptable casualty of having to completely wipe and remake their online experience. They tend to technically regret having had to delete the fic, but the alternative was unlivable.
Almost no one who deletes fic because it isn't good enough or because they're having a mental breakdown or because they've swapped fandoms or because they got a handful of rude or disapointed comments or to get back at an annoying person who liked it or because they're embarassed of the subject matter is actually happy with their descision down the road. Nearly all of them regret deleting the fic eventually.
If you ever feel like deleting a fic, consider anoning it or putting it in an unrevealed collection until whatever your feeling blows over instead.
--
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When I first started this blog â and started reporting on transformation in general â my first report was on a strange phenomenon I called âSupernova Transformations.â Itâs where any wish made upon a certain star, an unusually bright and mysterious supernova, would be granted in a twisted, sexually charged way. I havenât talked about it in a while, since lately Iâve been focusing more on mysteries a little closer to home, but Iâd be lying through my teeth if I said I wasnât still intrigued by the seemingly magical exploding star. I think every reporter, TF or regular, has a special place in their heart for their first story, and Iâm no exception. That fondness is part of the reason why I recently decided to look further into the Supernova itself, which has led me to discover something⌠fairly strange.
I once theorized that the light from the supernova was what was granting wishes and transforming people, but new evidence Iâce found suggests that is only half right. The light is magic, and is of the power of the supernova to grant wishes comes from, but the light isnât actually what transforms people. Because the magic of the light actually travels faster than light itself.
Part of what defines magic is the fact that it does the impossible. Thatâs why when someone wishes on the mysterious supernova, the wish is granted quickly, instead of taking the years it would take for light to travel from a distant star. The magic itself travels much faster, comes to earth, and grants to wish in a sexually charged way.
But⌠that doesnât mean the light isnât also coming to earth. And while the magic is faster⌠the magic infused light is much, much more powerful. And once it reaches earth⌠Everyone will be transformed. By all the wishes made on the star, all at once. Or, in other wordsâŚ
When the light of the supernova comes to earth, everyone will be transformed into dumb, horny sex gods.
I didnât believe it at first. I mean, Iâve used a Time Machine before, Iâve been to the future! I know not everyone is transformed. But⌠after taking a closer look at my Time Machine, I realized Iâve never been that far into the future. In fact⌠it wonât take me that far. The people who gave me the Time Machine, the Douchebag Revolution, they must have programmed the machine not to go to that time period. Iâve reached out to them but theyâve been weirdly quiet about the whole thing.
The good news is we have plenty of time before the light gets here. By my calculations the light still has another 100 light years to travel. So, we have time. But⌠in about 100 years, things are going to get really crazy.
It might not last forever, and we might figure out a way to stop it from happening at all, but if we donât? The world might just end with a huge worldwide orgy.
Not the worst way to go out.
**hey everyone! Sorry this took so long! Iâve been kind of depressed lately but Iâm getting myself back in the swing of things, and getting back to writing! I hope you guys like my 100th story, and how it relates back to my first story. Stay tuned for more!**
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To each their own, of course. Everybody has their own methods for searching for something to read, and if that works for them, great! I'm not about to pretend I can change anyone's mind, nor do I believe I have the right to. But for anyone who hasn't established their own method already, or anyone who is on the fence about this, and genuinely wondering?
Please don't go by a story's stats, alone. Please?
I've seen so many amazing stories get little engagement, next to no hits, and only a few bookmarks/kudos, zero comments, etc. The fact that those fics and authors might go forever unnoticed by this sort of search method just...it breaks my heart.
It shouldn't be about the stats. It should be about the summary. The tags, if applicable. The fandom, and the pairing, if any, and the quality of the writing itself, instead. And sure, if you click into one of those low-stats stories, and the writing isn't your cup of tea, you are well within your rights to nope your way out of there, and move on.
I guess what I'm trying to say, with all of this, in my typical, rambly way, is just...please try to give those less popular stories a chance, too. Sure, there may be a reason they aren't getting the engagement some of the fandom "giants" do, but it also stands to reason that maybe that low-stat story is also a diamond, buried beneath all of the other greatness, just waiting for its time to shine.
Just because a story isn't "popular" doesn't mean it isn't worthy. And that's all I have to say about that.
Another AO3 thing Iâm curious about, how do yall decide if something is good enough to read? Usually I follow a rule of 1 kudos for every 10 hits. One because itâs easy math and two itâs yet to fail me. Thoughts? Do you just go for it and pray itâs good?
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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 âworldâ to.
They have a lot of gay moments with Jayce, I don't know why the writers call it ��familyâ. 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 âall for Jayceâ 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 Skyâ, 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 âhere he's come to the realization on his own that humanity is badâ, 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 âshut down and withdrew into himselfâ, they also tried to make him a âdeityâ, 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 readâŚ.. idk I'll read it and forget it like a bad dream.
#viktor arcane#viktor#arcane#arcane spoilers#sky young#sky arcane#machine herald#animation is nice but not the story#I'll buy the artbook and that's it#I guess....#arcane s2
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Prompt idea: đđ¤Ť
Hybrid Behavior Doctor JK v. Husky female. Husky female has behavior problems as she was abused for years and then dumped off by her owner. She doesn't like being touched and wants to be left alone. JK is a behavior specialist for hybrids so he is tasked with taking her home and trying to rehab her for adoption. He has his hands full. She destroys his furniture, scratches his door frames, doesn't clean up after herself, and leaves junk food wrappers and bags all over his house because she doesn't want to eat proper food. But he knows that what she's looking for is attention and she's acting badly to get it. So when he ignores her, it bugs her and she seeks him out. Eventually she becomes used to him, and she lets him touch her a few times. Feelings slowly grow between them. When it's time for her to be put up for adoption, he doesn't want her to leave him and he asks if she wants to stay. She agrees and he asks her on a date.
I originally pictured smut for the ending, but now that I've reached the end of my description, it kind of doesn't need it. I'll leave it up to you and how the story writes itself. If it goes in a more flirty, sexy manner, you can put the smut in at the end. If it goes more friendly to new love where it's way too early for them to have sex, then you can leave the smut out.
(hybrid+smut) part of the prompt game pairing: hybrid behaviour doctor!Jungkook x husky hybrid!female reader genre: hybrid!AU, S2L, fluff warnings: bratty reader, understanding JK, allusion to abuse, fluff word count: 1.308
a/n: I went with the 'more friendly to new love' theme, hope that's alright đ
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Jungkookâs a professional, a hybrid behaviour specialist to be exact, so why does he get frustrated?
Heâs spent years working with hybrids of all kinds, from jittery squirrels to brooding panthers, and heâs always been able to handle them. He prides himself on his calm, patient approach.
But you?
Youâre on a whole different level.
From the moment he brought you into his home, itâs been absolute chaos. Youâre a husky hybrid, all sharp fangs and attitude, with a permanent scowl etched onto your face. You donât trust him, donât trust anyone, really, and thatâs understandable, considering your background.
Your last owner didnât just neglect you; they left you broken. Abused, abandoned, and dumped off like you were nothing. It makes Jungkookâs blood boil every time he thinks about it. He knows itâs going to take time to get through to you, but heâs never met anyone so determined to make that process as difficult as possible.
You refuse to let him touch you. You destroy his sofa cushions like itâs a personal mission. Youâve scratched deep gouges into his doorframes, chewed on the corner of his coffee table, and left wrappers and empty crisp packets scattered across every available surface.
âMessy,â he mutters to himself, picking up a half-crushed bag of crisps from under the sofa.
Youâre perched in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and tail swishing in irritation as you watch him. âMaybe if your food wasnât so boring, I wouldnât have to eat crisps for dinner.â
âMy food isnât boring,â he counters, tossing the bag into the bin. âItâs healthy.â
âHealthyâs boring,â you shoot back, smirking like youâve just won some kind of argument.
He sighs. He knows this is part of the act. Youâre defiant because it gives you control, you make a mess because you want to provoke him. Heâs seen it before in other hybrids whoâve been mistreated, itâs your way of testing him, of seeing if heâll snap.
But he wonât, ever.Â
âSuit yourself,â he mutters, brushing past you to grab his laptop off the counter. He makes a note about your eating habits, not that theyâre habits, really. More like disasters waiting to happen at this point.
You narrow your eyes at him. âYouâre not going to tell me off?â
âNope.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause youâre looking for attention,â he says casually, not even glancing up.
Your ears twitch, and he knows heâs hit a nerve. âIâm not,â you grumble.Â
âSure youâre not,â he replies, biting back a smile. He knows ignoring you drives you mad, but itâs all part of the plan. If he reacts to your antics, itâll only reinforce them. If he doesnât⌠well, eventually, youâll come to him on your own.
Itâs already starting to work.
You storm off in a huff, probably to destroy something else, but Jungkook doesnât follow. He knows youâll be back.
And you are.
Later that evening, you poke your head into his office, pretending youâre just passing by. Your ears are pinned back slightly, a telltale sign that youâre unsure, and Jungkook hides a smirk behind his laptop.
âNeed something?â he asks, keeping his tone as natural as possible.Â
You shrug, leaning against the doorframe. âWhat are you working on?â
âNotes,â he states simply.
You frown, clearly expecting more of a reaction. âNotes about me?â
âMaybe.â
âAm I doing that badly?â
He glances up at you then. âYouâre not doing badly,â he admits, and he means every word. âYouâre just⌠figuring things out.â
You huff again, but you donât leave. Instead, you wander further into the room, pretending to examine the books on his shelf. Jungkook knows better than to push you, so he lets you roam in silence.
After a while, you plop down on the floor right beside him, your tail curling around your legs. âI donât like it here,â you mutter.
He raises an eyebrow. âWhy not?â
âItâs too quiet,â you pick at a loose threat on the carpet. âAnd youâre boring.â
Jungkook bites back a laugh. âBoring, am I?â
âYeah.â You glance up at him, your eyes unusually serious. âBut⌠I donât hate it as much as I thought I would.â
Itâs the closest thing to a compliment youâve ever given him, and Jungkook feels a small beam of hope. Maybe heâs starting to get through to you.
đ
The weeks pass, and slowly, things begin to change.
You still have your moments, like when you chewed through one of his shoelaces because he refused to let you eat biscuits for breakfast, but theyâre less frequent. Youâve stopped trashing the place quite so often, and sometimes, you even sit with him on the sofa without scowling the whole time.
You let him brush your tail once, and though you complained the entire time, Jungkook could tell you didnât truly hate it.
And then there are the smaller moments that mean so much more. The way you hover in the kitchen while he cooks, pretending youâre not interested in what heâs making. The way you roam in his office, curling up on the floor like you just want to be near someone. The way youâve started calling him by his name instead of âDoctor Boringâ.
Itâs these moments that make Jungkook realise somethingâs finally shifted, not just in you, but in him, too.
Because, he doesnât want you to leave.
It hits him square in the face one evening as heâs watching you sprawl across the sofa, your legs dangling off the back and your ears twitching as you flick through the channels. The thought of you going to a new home, with someone else, feels incredibly wrong to him.
The day heâs supposed to start your adoption process, Jungkook canât focus. Youâre in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards for God-knows-what, and heâs sitting at the table with his laptop, staring at the blank application form.
âYouâre quiet,â you observe, glancing over your shoulder. âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing,â he lies, though itâs in vain.
You narrow your eyes at him, and he knows heâs been caught. Youâre sharper than you let on, and itâs one of the things heâs come to admire about you.
âSpit it out.â
He takes a deep breath, deciding to just go for it. âI was supposed to start your adoption paperwork today.â
Your ears perk up slightly, but you donât say anything.
âAnd I realisedâŚâ He hesitates, his heart pounding out of his mouth. âI donât want you to go.â
Your cock your brows at that, nearly touching your hairline, and for a moment, you just stare at him. âWhat are you saying?â
âIâm sayingâŚâ He stands up, crossing the room until heâs standing in front of you. âI want you to stay. Here. With me.â
You blink up at him. âAre you serious?â
âCompletely, but only if you want to.â
Thereâs a long pause, and then, to his relief, you smile. Itâs small and shy, but itâs unmistakable.
âI want to,â you nod softly.
Jungkookâs chest feels like itâs going to burst. âGood. Because I was really hoping youâd say that.â
You look away, but thereâs a warmth in your eyes heâs never seen before.
âSo, what now?â you ask with big eyes, turning and tilting your head.
âNowâŚâ He hesitates, suddenly feeling like a nervous teenager. âNow I ask you on a date.â
âA date?â You giggle.
âYeah,I mean, if weâre going to live together, we might as well see if we can survive a dinner out.â
You pretend to think about it, your tail swishing behind you. âAlright. But only if I get to pick the restaurant.â
âDeal.â
Before he can second-guess himself, Jungkook leans down and presses a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead. Itâs brief, but the way you look up at him afterwards, ears twitching and cheeks flushed, tells him everything he needs to know.
Youâre home.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
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Darkness and You | h.s
summery: a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.
wc: 5.3k || đđđđ Masterlist đđđđ
WARNING â ď¸ sexual references, mention of unprotected sex. MINORS DNI! youâre responsible for your own consumption, donât blame me later. Itâs your own choice.
Posted on: November 25th, 2024
Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 || TAGLIST IS OPEN!
Surprise lovelies! The first part from serial-killer!Harry series is here and I really hope you enjoy it. đ let me know how was it and if you have any ideas for other parts, I just might post some more this week itself. this is my first ever try at writing 18+ stuff tho itâs not really much so I hope it didnât suckđ¤đł REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
You donât do this. Any of this. You donât pick up hitchhikers in the middle of the night. Especially men.
Youâve seen a lot of horror movies and youâve heard a ton of news stories.
Youâre not five. You know what you should and what you shouldnât do. But youâve made an array of bad choices tonight so why not continue it?
You donât know what it was but something compelled you to pull over.
The boy with the curls and those deep green eyes, gets into the passenger seat, a grateful smile on his face. He looks sweet, to be honest.
âOh, thank you so so much. Iâve been out here for so long. My car just gave out on me and thereâs no signal in this shithole.â He says, his English accent very evident as he adjusts his seatbelt. âMay I know my saviourâs name?â He asks with a smiles that shows a pair of dimples.
The air is thick with the quiet hum of the engine, and your fingers clench the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. Youâre not sure if itâs the cold seeping into the car or the nervous energy building in your chest. Something about this feels surreal, like stepping into a scene youâd only watch from the safety of your couch. Yet, here you are, with a stranger in the passenger seat and an unspoken weight hanging between you.
âUh, YN,â you reply, your voice more hesitant than youâd like. His accent catches you off guard again, so polished and charming it almost makes you forget the unease simmering below the surface. Almost.
âYN,â he repeats, letting your name roll off his tongue like heâs testing its sound. âThatâs a lovely name. Iâm Harry.â
Harry. It suits him somehow. Still, you canât help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His curls are messy, probably from standing in the cold too long, and his coat looks worn, but thereâs a warmth to him. Those green eyes, so striking, carry a sense of easeâlike heâs the last person in the world you should be afraid of.
Still, youâre not stupid. Sweet smiles and dimples donât guarantee safety.
âSo⌠where are you headed?â you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral while silently calculating how far you are from the nearest gas station or town. Somewhere with people. Witnesses.
He exhales, the sound almost a laugh. âHonestly? Just anywhere away from here.â He runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head. âMy car decided to betray me in the middle of nowhere. Tried to call for help, but of course, thereâs no signal. Classic, right?â
You manage a small laugh, though it feels forced. Your instincts are at warâone side whispering that this guy is harmless, the other screaming at you for stopping in the first place.
âWell,â you say, trying to sound composed, âyou got lucky I came by. Not a lot of cars out tonight.â
âNot a lot of kind people either,â Harry adds, his voice softer now. âI was starting to think Iâd be out there all night.â
His words linger in the air, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. Maybe heâs just another unlucky soul, stranded and hoping for a break. Maybe youâre overthinking this. Or maybe this is exactly how every cautionary tale starts.
âSo, YN,â Harry says, breaking the silence again. His tone is light, conversational, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. âWhatâs a girl like you doing out here at this hour? Donât tell me youâre running away from something, too.â
The question catches you off guard, and your grip on the wheel tightens. âNo,â you reply quickly, a little too defensively. âJust⌠a long drive. Needed to clear my head.â
He hums in acknowledgment, not pushing further, and you feel a flicker of relief. He leans back in his seat, letting his head rest against the window. For a moment, you think heâs going to drift off, but then he glances at you again, his eyes almost piercing in their intensity.
âYouâve got this look,â he says, his voice quieter now. âLike youâre carrying the weight of the world.â
You donât respond right away, unsure how to take that. âYouâve known me for all of five minutes,â you finally say, trying to deflect with a weak smile. âBit of a bold assumption, donât you think?â
He chuckles softly. âMaybe. But Iâm pretty good at reading people.â
The car falls into a strange silence again, and you can feel his gaze shift back to the window. Thereâs something about himâsomething you canât quite put your finger on. Itâs not just the way he talks or the way he looks at you. Itâs the way he feels out of place, like he belongs in a story that hasnât been written yet.
And for reasons you canât explain, you let yourself keep driving.
There was some reason he canât take his eyes off of you, almost as if youâre a rare piece of art he couldnât help but admire.
âYou always pick up handsome strangers in the middle of the night?â He teases with a cheeky smirk on his features.
You glance over at him, briefly, before focusing back on the road. The way his smirk lingers, paired with those dimples, feels both disarming and maddeningly charming. âNot usually,â you reply, your tone even, though youâre acutely aware of his gaze on you. âJust the ones who look like theyâve had a rough night.â
He laughs at that, the sound soft and warm, filling the small space of the car. âLucky me, then,â he says, his accent turning the words into something smoother, like they carry more weight than they should. âAlthough, I think the luck might be yours. How often do you get to share a car with a proper English gentleman?â
You roll your eyes but canât help the small smile tugging at your lips. âEnglish gentleman, huh? You sound like a guy who gives himself that title. Let me guess, you also drink tea at every opportunity and say âcheerioâ unironically?â
His hand flies to his chest in mock offense, and he lets out a dramatic gasp. âCheerio? Absolutely not. What do you take me for, a walking British stereotype?â
âMaybe,â you shoot back, your tone playful now. âI mean, you did say your car âgave out,â and who even says that anymore?â
He chuckles again, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. âFair enough. But for the record, Iâm more of a coffee guy. And I donât say âcheerio.ââ His smirk returns, softer this time, as he adds, âI think you might be the first person to question my gentleman status, though. Most people just take one look at me and assume Iâm⌠irresistible.â
You snort, trying to stifle your laugh. âIrresistible? You really do think highly of yourself, donât you?â
âCan you blame me?â he quips, his voice teasing but not cocky. His gaze lingers again, softer now, almost contemplative. âBut Iâm serious. Youâve got this⌠way about you. Like youâre completely unimpressed by people like me, and I canât decide if itâs refreshing or terrifying.â
That catches you off guard, and you shift in your seat, the smile slipping from your face just a little. âPeople like you?â
He shrugs, the smirk still lingering but now tinged with something deeper. âYou know, the ones who talk too much, crack jokes, try to charm their way through life. The ones who should be lucky just to share the same space as someone like you.â
Your stomach flips at his words, a mix of unease and flattery youâre not quite sure how to handle. You keep your eyes on the road, focusing on the distant glow of headlights in the distance. âYouâve got a lot of opinions for someone who just met me.â
âMaybe,â he admits, leaning back in his seat and letting his gaze wander out the window. âBut you can tell a lot about someone in five minutes. Like how youâve got this look in your eyes, like youâre constantly bracing for something to go wrong.â
You freeze for just a moment, his words hitting closer to home than youâd like. âYouâre imagining things,â you say quickly, brushing it off with a casualness you donât really feel.
âMaybe I am,â he replies, his voice low and calm, like he doesnât quite believe you but wonât push. After a moment, he adds, almost to himself, âBut for some reason, I canât stop looking at you. Itâs like⌠youâre a puzzle, and I canât figure out the edges.â
You donât know what to say to that, so you settle for silence, the tension in the car shifting to something strange and unspoken. Outside, the road stretches endlessly ahead, the darkness pressing in on both sides. And for the first time since picking him up, you wonder if youâre the one being read, the layers of your carefully built armor peeling away under the weight of those deep green eyes.
Harry leans back in his seat, one hand resting casually on his knee as he studies you. His gaze, though soft, feels weightedâlike heâs trying to peel back layers you didnât even know you were wearing. After a beat of silence, he speaks, his voice low and curious.
âCan I ask you something, YN?â he says, his tone gentle, almost disarming.
You glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. âSure,â you reply, though the way he says your name sends a faint chill up your spine.
âArenât you scared?â he asks, tilting his head slightly. âPicking up a male stranger in the middle of the night? Alone? I mean, you said it yourselfâthis isnât exactly normal behavior.â
You bite the inside of your cheek, his words triggering the voice of reason thatâs been screaming at you ever since you stopped the car. Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and you force a small laugh. âA little,â you admit, though your voice wavers slightly. âBut you donât seem like the scary type.â
Harryâs lips curl into a smile, one thatâs almost too perfectâdimples and all. âWell, I promise you, Iâm not some sort of serial killer,â he says lightly, his tone almost playful. âScoutâs honor.â
Something about his phrasing makes you laugh, and the tension in your chest easesâif only slightly. âIsnât that exactly what all serial killers say in the movies?â you tease, glancing at him briefly with a raised brow.
Harryâs smile widens, but thereâs a flicker of something behind his eyesâa shadow of a thought you canât quite catch. âTouchĂŠ,â he says, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze never leaves you, as though heâs memorizing every detail of your face. âI suppose it would be the perfect cover, wouldnât it? A smile, a little charm⌠make yourself seem harmless enough, and no one suspects a thing.â
The way he says it sends a ripple of unease through you, and the playful smirk he wears only deepens the strange knot in your stomach. You force yourself to stay calm, trying to brush it off. âThatâs⌠a little creepy, donât you think?â you reply, half-joking.
Harry chuckles softly, the sound low and almost hypnotic. âMaybe. But if I were a killer, wouldnât I have already done something by now? Youâve got me here, alone, no witnesses. Seems like the perfect opportunity, doesnât it?â
Your heart skips a beat, and your hands grip the wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening. His voice is still light, teasing, but thereâs an undercurrent to his words that you canât quite place. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge whether heâs just messing with you or if thereâs something darker lurking beneath the surface.
âAnd yet,â he continues, his tone softening again, âhere I am, just a guy stranded on the side of the road, grateful for the kindness of a beautiful stranger.â
Your throat feels dry as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to respond. âWell, for your sakeâand mineâI hope youâre telling the truth.â
He lets out another soft laugh, leaning back against the seat again. âOf course I am,â he says smoothly. But thereâs something about the way he says itâlike he knows more than heâs letting on. Like heâs enjoying this moment a little too much.
The road stretches on in front of you, the darkness pressing in from all sides, and for the first time, you start to wonder if stopping for Harry was the worst decision youâve ever made. Because while his smile is charming and his voice is calm, thereâs something about him that feels off. Like the quiet before a storm.
Harry shifts in his seat, his gaze flicking to you every so often, like heâs studying the curve of your profile, the way your fingers tap the wheel, the faint crease in your brow as you concentrate on the dark road ahead. The hum of the engine and the soft patter of the tires on asphalt are the only sounds filling the car now, a strange kind of peace settling between you two.
âHow farâs the city?â he asks casually, breaking the quiet, his voice smooth and easy, though thereâs a strange undertone to itâlike he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.
You glance at the dashboard clock before replying, âProbably around three hours. Give or take.â
Harry lets out a soft hum, leaning back in his seat, his head tilting toward you as though drawn by some invisible force. Three hours. Three uninterrupted hours with you. Itâs enough to make his heart race.
He lets the silence return, but his thoughts are anything but quiet. His mind is a storm of emotions and desiresâchaotic, consuming, and entirely focused on you. Thereâs something about you thatâs different. Itâs not just the way you look, though your beauty feels like something out of a dream. Itâs the way you hold yourself, the sharpness in your wit, the vulnerability you try to mask but canât fully hide. Youâre magnetic in a way he canât explain, and the more he sits beside you, the deeper his obsession grows.
He watches the soft glow of the dashboard lights reflect off your face, highlighting your cheekbones and the curve of your jaw. He wonders what it would feel like to trace that line with his fingers. To know the softness of your skin. To see you look at him not with the occasional suspicion that flashes in your eyes but with trust. Admiration. Love.
His thoughts spiral, wild and untamed, as his gaze lingers on you. What would it take for you to see him the way he already sees you? Would you ever understand how special you are? How perfect this moment is? You were meant to find him tonightâheâs sure of it. The universe wouldnât have aligned so perfectly otherwise.
His fingers twitch, his desire to reach out, to touch you, almost overwhelming. But no, not yet. He has time. Three hours to savor this moment, to bask in the glow of your presence, to solidify the bond heâs convinced youâre destined to share.
Youâre unaware of the storm raging in his mind, the way his chest tightens with every glance at you. You think the silence is peaceful, and in a way, it isâfor you. For Harry, itâs intoxicating. Maddening.
He forces himself to take a steady breath, his fingers curling into his palms as he tries to calm the fire within him. He doesnât want to scare you, not yet. Youâre like a delicate thread, and if he pulls too hard, you might snap.
So, he keeps his voice soft, his demeanor calm, though his thoughts are anything but. He smiles to himself, a small, secret smile, as he stares out the window at the endless darkness. You have no idea, he thinks, how utterly and completely youâve captured him.
And he plans to make sure you never get away.
As the silence stretches between you, Harry's mind spirals further into chaos. He shifts again in his seat, the seatbelt digging into his chest as his thoughts race uncontrollably. His green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and then to the empty backseat, a dark thought taking hold of him. It's ridiculous, he knows, but the image is vivid, almost too vivid to push away-the two of you tangled together in the small space, your back arching against the leather as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place.
The idea sends a heat rushing through him, and he clenches his jaw, forcing his gaze back to the road ahead. But it's no use. His thoughts keep circling back, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. The way your lips curve as you speak, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the faint scent of your perfume that fills the carâit's driving him mad. You're so close, yet just out of reach, and it's enough to make him want to explode.
He imagines it so clearly: the way you'd look beneath him, your head thrown back, your lips parted in a gasp as he claims you. The sound of his name spilling from your mouth, a mix of moans and screams that would echo in his ears forever. The thought of marking you, leaving his fingerprints, his bruises, his everything on you-it consumes him. He wants you to be his, entirely his, in every possible way. To make sure no one else could ever have you, touch you, or even think of you the way he does.
His breathing becomes shallow as the lust builds inside him, threatening to take over. His hands clench into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as he fights to regain control. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. You're driving, unaware of the wildfire burning inside him, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this perfect moment.
But his eyes betray him, flicking back to the rearview mirror, imagining again how easy it would be. The backseat seems like it was made for this-for you. He could pull you back there, coax you into his arms, and let his hands explore every inch of you. He'd take his time, memorizing the feel of your skin, the way your body reacts to his touch. You'd look so beautiful, so utterly perfect, with your cheeks flushed and your voice breaking as you beg for more.
Harry exhales sharply, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He turns his head slightly, stealing another glance at you, and it only makes things worse. The way your lips press together in concentration as you drive, the way your fingers drum softly against the steering wheel-it's enough to make him want to lose control.
He shifts again, trying to adjust himself discreetly, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. His lustful thoughts are a storm, loud and demanding, drowning out every ounce of reason he has left. He's trying to distract himself, to think of anything else, but it's no use. Every thought keeps looping back to you-your voice, your scent, your body, your everything.
You glance at him briefly, catching the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his eyes, but you brush it off as nothing. To you, he's still the stranded, grateful stranger, polite and charming, sitting quietly beside you.
But Harry's chest tightens as he fights the urge to act on the consuming need inside him. His teeth graze his bottom lip, his mind racing. He's never felt like this beforeâ this overwhelming obsession, this uncontrollable desire. And it terrifies him. But it also excites him, in a way he can't even begin to describe.
For now, he forces himself to stay still, to keep his hands in his lap and his voice calm. But his thoughts? His thoughts are far from calm. They're filled with you, with every possible way he wants to have you. And the longer he sits beside you, the harder it becomes to stop himself from making you his. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably his.
Harryâs voice cuts through the silence, a casual curiosity in his tone that makes you glance at him briefly. âYou donât have a boyfriend yet, do you?â
You raise an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. You keep your eyes on the road, trying to process his words. âHow did you know?â you ask, voice light, though you canât quite place the reason why it feels like an oddly personal question.
Harry shrugs slightly, a devil-may-care smile curling on his lips. âJust a guess,â he says nonchalantly. âNo man in his right mind would let a gorgeous girl like you be alone at night for this long. Either that or youâve got a terrible taste in men.â
His words hit you with an unexpected warmth. You laugh, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, trying to hide the flutter of something that rises in your chest. It feels like heâs teasing you, and yet thereâs a charm in his tone, something alluring and carefree that makes it hard not to feel a little⌠flattered.
âTerrible taste, huh?â you reply, half-joking, your eyes flickering back to him. âWell, maybe Iâve just been too picky.â
Harryâs smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his green eyes. He leans forward slightly, his voice low, as if sharing a secret. âMaybe I can be your new boyfriend,â he suggests, his tone playful but with a teasing undertone that makes your pulse quicken. âSave you from your bad taste?â
You laugh again, this time more freely, the sound light and natural. âOh really?â you reply, shaking your head with a mock skeptical smile. âYou think you could do a better job?â
Harryâs gaze flickers to you, a knowing glint in his eyes, as if heâs sure heâs exactly what you need, even though youâre not quite sure how to respond. âI mean,â he says, his smile widening, âyou wouldnât know until you tried, would you?â
The playful banter between the two of you continues, the tension that had briefly been present starting to dissipate, replaced by a light-hearted connection that feels easy and natural. But beneath the surface of the conversation, Harryâs thoughts still swirl with that same obsessive desire. Heâs enjoying the game, enjoying the way you laugh, the way your eyes twinkle when you tease him back. But deep down, heâs already picturing what it would look like if he were your boyfriend. How it would feel to have you close, to make you hisâcompletely, entirely, and without question.
For now, though, he lets the teasing continue, enjoying the playfulness between you, and the undeniable pull he feels toward you. But he knows, deep down, that this is only the beginning. This is just the start of whatâs to come. And heâs more than willing to wait for the moment when youâll be his.
Harryâs smirk widens as you teasingly reply, âMaybe.â He canât help it; his pulse quickens at your words. Heâs always been good at reading people, but with you, everything feels like an exciting gameâone heâs eager to win.
He leans in a little, his arm stretching out to rest on the console between you, positioning himself closer. His breath hitches slightly as he catches the scent of your perfume again, the warmth of your presence filling the car. Heâs trying to remain casual, but he canât help it; his thoughts are moving too fast, pulling him deeper into the haze of attraction.
âGive me some hope at least, moon flower,â he says, his voice softer now, almost intimate. âLet me know Iâve got a shot.â
His eyes never leave you as he waits for your response, and when you tease him back, saying, âOkay, you do. You have a shot at it,â Harryâs grin stretches across his face, almost too excited for his own good. Itâs as if heâs won something. Something he canât quite put into words yet, but it feels like a step toward getting closer to you.
He sits up straighter, a surge of confidence overtaking him. His gaze moves over your figure with a deliberation that makes your stomach flutter. The way his eyes drink in the details of your face, your body, makes you feel⌠noticed. Seen.
âThatâs one hell of a boost for my ego,â Harry says, his voice dripping with a mix of playful arrogance and genuine admiration. âIâve got a chance with the most beautiful girl Iâve ever laid my eyes on.â
The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze. Itâs flattering, but thereâs something else in his lookâsomething deeper, something more consuming than mere compliments. Itâs as if heâs claiming you in some unspoken way. His eyes linger a little too long, and though heâs trying to be playful, thereâs a certain hunger there that catches you off guard.
A part of you wants to laugh it off, but another part of you⌠well, another part of you canât quite deny the effect his words have on you. The way his confidence oozes, the way he seems to have you completely captivated even when heâs just speaking casually.
You force your gaze back to the road, but the tension between you both feels different now. Itâs charged, electricâfilled with unspoken possibilities. Harry, however, doesnât let up. His eyes keep studying you, as if trying to decipher every little detail about you. His lips curl into a smile thatâs both triumphant and knowing.
The atmosphere in the car shifts. The lightness of the teasing still hangs in the air, but thereâs a deeper layer nowâone that feels almost like a promise. Harryâs made it clear: heâs not here for just a simple ride. Heâs here to win your attention, your affection, to make sure you know exactly how much he wants you. And as he watches you, he knows heâs already made his mark on you in some way, whether you realize it yet or not.
The air between you thickens, charged with the energy of his words. Harry's voice lowers, almost like a secret. "This might sound crazy since I hardly know you," he says, his gaze flickering from your face to your lips, then back to your eyes. "But I really, really want to kiss you."
The intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, sends a rush of heat to your chest.
Your heart skips a beat, then races faster than before. You know it's reckless, impulsive, but it's as if something deep inside you is responding to him, telling you to act, to do something. But before you can process the surge of emotions, your foot slams down on the brake pedal without warning.
Harry's eyes widen, his body thrown forward by the sudden stop. His hands instinctively grip the console as he stumbles against the force of the car halting.
"Jesus!" he exclaims, his voice laced with shock, his pulse spiking.
You breathe shakily, your hands still gripping the steering wheel as the car finally comes to a stop. The silence in the car is thick with anticipation. Harry's heart is racing, not just from the sudden stop, but from the way you're looking at him now-there's something different in your eyes. Something that mirrors the craving he's been feeling.
When the shock of the stop wears off, Harry turns to you, his breath coming in quick bursts. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you.
"Why the hell did you stop the car like that, love?" he asks, his voice rough, his brows furrowed in both confusion and curiosity.
Your eyes lock with his, and something shifts. The walls you'd both been playing behind-teasing, joking-begin to crumble. His question hangs in the air between you like a challenge. But then, without saying another word, you lean toward him. A glint of something darker passes over your face.
"Because I wanted to do this," you whisper, and without waiting for any further hesitation, your lips crash into his.
The kiss is immediate and intense, born out of the tension that's been building ever since he first got into the car. His lips are soft but urgent, pulling you closer. There's no room for uncertainty anymore; only the heat of the moment, the heat of his body pressing against yours, the heat of desire crackling between you both.
Harry responds eagerly, his hand reaching to cup your jaw, fingers threading into your hair as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a pulse of warmth straight to your core. His kiss is fierce, as if he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you. His tongue brushes against yours, a soft, tantalizing pressure that makes you lose yourself in the sensation.
For a brief moment, nothing else matters-the world outside the car, the consequences, the lingering doubt. All of it fades away as you both succumb to the pull of each other, driven by something stronger than logic or reason. The kiss feels like a release, the pent-up tension from the entire ride coming to fruition in one passionate, desperate embrace.
When you finally break away, your breaths are ragged, both of you still close, your foreheads resting against each other. Your pulse is wild, your heart pounding in your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way he looks at you now-his eyes dark with desire, filled with a hunger that matches your own.
Harry grins, a satisfied, almost predatory look crossing his face. "Well... I guess I got what I wanted," he murmurs, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks.
But you know this isn't over. The tension between you both is only just beginning, and neither of you can walk away from it now.
âGod, youâre so hot,â Harry mutters against your lips, the hand not on your face sneaking down to your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing the flesh through your jeans. Heâs getting drunk on you, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. Heâs never before felt this way, itâs like something in him has snapped in half, the primal and possessive side of him awakening. He doesnât want to let you go.
The kiss gets more heated, the sweet gestures replaced by desperate and hungry ones. Harryâs fingers dig into your thigh almost possessively, his head tilting to deepen the kiss even more.
His tongue runs over your lower lip, begging for entrance.
As soon as you grant him access his tongue immediately pushes inside your mouth, exploring every inch of your wet cavern hungrily. Itâs as if he wants to devour you. His hand moves up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer, trying to get the most possible body contact.
âYouâre driving me insane, princessâŚâ Harry mumbles against your lips, one hand now gently gripping your chin, holding you in place. Heâs practically addicted to the way your mouth feels on his, youâve unleashed something primal in him, something he has trouble controlling.
âYour car is like.. a perfect spot for this, love,â Harry comments, his lips moving off of yours, down to your jawline. He begins kissing the skin there as he speaks, âPlenty of space⌠dark, private⌠you should park somewhere. I bet your backseats are really comfortable.â
There was no denying that he get want he wants and youâre now his⌠and this is just the beginning
#harry styles#harry edward styles#one direction#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles story#minors dni#minors do not interact#harry styles fiction#harry styles writing#harry styles imagine#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles au#harryssyndrome#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles imagines
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Free yourself of your ego so you can put your nose to the grindstone and do the real work.
I see so many writers who seem to think that they're supposed to get it 100% right on the first try, and that's just not how storycraft works. Most of the books in publication today have several rounds of drafts where the manuscript is passed back and forth between the editing team and author. If your fave author needed an editing team, you're allowed to have a shitty first draft.
If it fails to meet your expectations, use it as a learning opportunity. Open the document side by side with a copy of itself and make changes on the new copy. Learn from what disappoints you.
& it's never about "failing to do the story justice", it's more often than not about a ton of other preconceived notions about writing or self-esteem/self-imposed limitations. It's often about protecting one's inner perfectionist and/or gifted kid who will feel an earth-shattering pain if something they put into the world reflects poorly upon them.
But you have to allow yourself to draft. You have to spend time with the work and form a relationship with it. You have to be willing to learn your bad habits and edit your own words. You must learn to wait a day to fix issues before you post. Leave your worries at the door. Turn your focus toward improving the skill of writing.
If you'd accept, "Oh, right, you can't paint a Rembrandt when you're just starting out - that's a really crazy expectation to have on a beginner painter", then that same understanding and grace can and should be applied to storycraft.
It's also just not that serious. The edit button exists for a reason - I went back and edited the first 115k of Long Time Running earlier this year and am about to go back and edit more, because my skill grew and I keep noticing little things I can improve.
This is not a zero-sum game: the story is something you build toward over time, not something that happens immediately.
The most frustrating experience as a writer is having a clear vision in your mind of the story you want to tell but being too afraid to put pen to paper for fear of failing to do the story justice. Iâm so scared that my actual execution will fail to meet my expectations that Iâm paralysed to even start.
#writeblr#mental health#long time running#if this sounds harsh just know that I have done a LOT of work on my ego/mental health and I was OP. I know what that feels like#I also know what it feels like to realize my story didn't meet my expectations#But I didn't let it stop me from learning from why it didn't meet my expectations
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thank you
most people on earth look forward to and enjoy the hell out of their birthdays. for a few years now, i haven't been part of that group. when i close my eyes and think about birthdays, i always picture someone else blowing out the candles, or eating overly frosted cake, or getting well-thought-out presents. it's "other people stuff", the same way i thought about kissing with tongue when i was twelve or the way i now think about having kids. it's stuff other people get to do.
last friday, however, i got a collaborative gift from many people in this fandom. some of them i've spoken to and chatted with a hundred times over the years since i joined this online space, but others were complete strangers! people whose usernames i recognize from ao3 comments or twitter screenshots or fanartâthey took the time to write me messages and participate in this beautiful gift out of the kindness of their hearts.
though i sometimes lurk and watch from afar, i am not active on here anymore, but i felt the need to address any of those people that might be reading this: thank you. not just for this gift, but for taking the time to read my stories. writing is such a lonely craft. it takes so, so long to complete a single project. and yet things like this (people like this) are a reminder of why we all do it.
i have read every single message. i wish i could give you a 1:1 reply, or that there was a way in which i could repay that kindness, but i don't think there's much i can do or say other than thank you again and again and again.
it hasn't been a year since i finished posting my last fic, but these months have been incredibly lonely for me. as i said, writing often is. to think there is someone out thereâanyone, reallyâthat to this day sometimes, even in quick passing, thinks about anything i have ever written . . . that is the greatest gift. i look back at 2020 and remember all of its awfulness, its insanity, its loss. but i also remember how much it gave me back, all the friends i made, and the way it dusted off not only writing itself, but other hopes, too.
all of this to say: thank you. i hope I can repay you soon with new stories to read.
and a special thank you to lilium, who was the one that made it happen! a friend, through and through, always.
#hiuh#wtsioa#captive prince fandom in general#i'll be back soon with something new#ngl when i got the gift that justin bieber song started playing in my head#the âLIFE IS WORTH LIVINGGGGâ one#and it's got me finishing my first draft so honestly ......... thank u
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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 firmâs anniversary party one night. While there, Higuruma Hiromi and Nanami Kento, your bosses and the two sexy attorneys youâre secretly attracted to, help you celebrate your final grades and receiving a brand new position at their firmâŚ.just not in the way that they should. But who cares about whatâs 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!
Writerâs Note: Iâve had this idea rolling around in my head for DAYS now. Iâm so happy Iâm finally able to share it after finally writing it. I hope yâall enjoy! KISSES!! đđ -Jazz
**********
You know that a second glass of champagne probably isnât logical or practical.
But if you have to listen to your fellow intern and total preppy asshole drone on about his vacation stories, youâll 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. Youâve known these people for months now and while you like some, there are others than youâd gladly avoid.
Like the preppy exchange student from Upstate New York who came to Japan to study abroad. Of course, heâs standing beside you in his Armani student, buzzed off of his second beer and oozing arrogance and ignorance. âMy friends wanted to go to Bora Bora again, but I always found Bora Bora to be sooo overhyped,â he groans. âThatâs why we went to Hawaii. It was cheaper.â
He takes a sip of his beer, dripping some down his tie. You donât warn him. âI heard Hawaiians didnât want tourists anymore,â Yuki points out, standing next to you. âSomething about them pushing natives out of their homes because of construction.â
She sips on her champagne and eyes you as she does it. You fight the urge to smile. âWell, that didnât kick me out,â the exchange student chuckles. âI had a ball! Lotta beer on the beach and a lot of girls too.â He turns to you now, your worst fear coming true. âYou ever been to Hawaii, Y/N?â
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. âNo, but I prefer Costa Rica. The water is prettier. Excuse me, Iâm gonna fill myself up.â
Quickly, you excuse yourself from the group and walk over to the alcohol table located on the other side of the gorgeous ballroom. âOh, pass me another beer if they got one,â the jock suggests. âWe can share, if you want. I know you like a good beer too.â He gives you a lopsided smile thatâs supposed to get you hot and bothered like it has to all of the other girls heâs screwed.
You stifle the urge to vomit and give him a tight lipped smile before quickly walking offâŚor 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 youâve 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 eyesâŚ.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. Youâve 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 thatâs 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. âThey picked you out from ten other candidates,â she gushed to you over the phone. âTheyâre so impressed with your resume and our interview notes.â
You smile to yourself as you take another glass of champagne. You canât 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. âHe likes you,â she giggles. You roll your eyes beneath your full lashes. âI could give less of a fuck,â you mutter. âI felt like shovinâ a cupcake in his mouth to shut him up.â Yuki laughs despite your deadass statement. âSo whereâs your date tonight?â she asks. âSince preppy white jocks donât float your boat.â
No man floats your boat nowadays, it seems. Not when youâre in law school. What guy would want a girl who stresses over essays and exams every other week? âWell, my roomie has a cold and couldnât come,â you explain. âI wanted to stay, but she forced me to put on this dress and come.â
âAnd itâs a damn good thing she did!â Yuki scoffs. âYou look amazing!â You smile shyly, feeling your cheeks flush. âAnd Iâd rather you be here celebrating the 10th year of the firm with me than at home. Intern or not, youâre a part of this team too, Y/N.â
Though Yukiâs words are sweet, youâd 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, youâre waiting for two guests in particular to show up. Your bossesâŚor 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 donât 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 arenât 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. âBut remember to rest,â Nanami always tells you. âBurnout is a killer.â 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 youâre 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 isnât a surprise to you that the entire firm has their eyes on them as handsome as they areâsoft-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 Higurumaâs nose and stroking Nanamiâs cheekbones with your fingers.
As far as you know, theyâre single and unmarried, but things can change. Not to mention that youâre their intern! There is a very clear line that you donât 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.
âWell, I can tutor you for the tests,â Higuruma said, taking a peak at your guide. âClearly, you need someone to break this shit down for you and test you.â
âAnd make sure you donât completely blow your top over your grammar,â Nanami added, referring to your paper. âI was a 4.0 in Harvard, donât you know?â 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 werenât even planning to attend the firmâs 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. âWell, cheers to that,â you giggle and clink your glass with hers. âYouâre sweet, Yuki. Definitely makes this whole environment worth it.â 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 theyâve finally arrived. But when you see that itâs your Canvas notification, your stomach drops.
Suddenly, the champagne tastes sour and all of the sounds of the party sound muffled like youâre 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 youâre about to faint. Oh, where are Nanami and Higuruma when you need them?
ââŚY/N?â You turn to Yuki as if you just realized that sheâs standing there. âSorry, what?â You dumbly ask.
âThey finally brought out the chocolate fountain!â She announces, pointing excitedly at the fountain bubbling chocolate fondue just a few feet away. âLetâs get some before we have to fight off the entire party.â You force a smile and wave her off, trying to hide your oncoming anxiety attack the best you can. âYou go ahead. I need to powder my nose first.â
Itâs enough to make Yuki agree, telling her that sheâll get you a plate. Once sheâs 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 friendâs contact at the same time. By the time you reach the bathroom, you feel like youâre 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. âPick up, pick up, pick up,â you mutter. Finally, your friend does, coughing into the phone. âWhatâs up, babe?â she crokes out. âDid your lawyer baes come yet?â
âNo, but my grades just came back and Iâm in the bathroom so I donât have a panic attack, but I am having a panic attack.â 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.
âOkay, relax,â your bestie soothingly says. Only she knows the stress youâve been under for three years. âBreathe. Tell yourself your affirmations. I already know you did amazing, Y/N. You already know that too. You studied your ass off, remember?â
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. âYeah,â 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 youâre ready. âHere I goâŚIâm opening them now.â
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. âOh, my God,â you gasp.
âWhat?â your friend urges. âWhatâd you get?â
You nearly drop your phone as your body trembles from excitement and relief. âI passed,â you whisper. Then again, louder this time: âI passed!â you squeal. âI fucking passed!â You feel tears prick your eyes and you have to rapidly blink to keep from ruining your mascara.
You canât believe it. Youâre done! Youâre going to graduate law school next spring! âCongratulations, girl!â your friend cheers. âI knew you could do it! Now go out there, turn the fuck up, and celebrate with your lawyer baes.â
You scoff, taking some tissue to tab at your cheeks and temple. âFor the last time, theyâre not my baes or boos or boyfriends.â She swears that Higuruma and Nanami are your future husbands. âNot yet!â she argues. âYou just wait till they see you lookinâ fine as fuck in your dress and next thing you know, youâre going home with one of âemâŚor both!â
âGoodbye, you perv,â you giggle. âThank you. I love you.â 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 youâre the sun and the moon. You feel sexy, exuberant, and like youâre on top of the fucking world. Nothing and nobody can get in your way.
You suddenly bump right into someoneâs back, causing you to stumble. âOh, excuse me!â you gasp. âIâm sorry, I didnâtâŚâ 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. âMs. L/N,â he says in his smooth, eargasmic voice. âI didnât expect to bump into you so early tonight.â
You gape at him, unable to speak. Youâre 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. âOh, there you are. We were actually looking for you.â
His tired-looking brown eyes scale down your outfit. âThatâsâŚsome dress. You look nice.â 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.
âT-Thank you,â you stammer, finally finding your voice. You spot a passing waiter on your left with a tray and snatch a glass from it. Youâll need it. You clear your throat, conjuring that bad bitch from the bathroom. âU-Um, Iâm actually glad youâre both here. I was looking for you too.â
The lawyersâ brows raise expectantly. âOh?â Higuruma asks. âWhy is that?â You break out into a smile, unable to contain your joy. âI got my grades back for my exams!â you excitedly announce. âAll As and Bs!â You fish your phone out of your clutch and shove the screen into your bossesâ faces. âSee for yourselves,â 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. âLet me see,â 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. âWell, damn,â he huffs. âThis is impressive, Y/N. You really locked in as the kids say these days.â
âYouâre not that old, Higuruma,â Nanami scoffs, snatching your phone back and handing it to you. âNice job, Ms. L/N. Weâll have to celebrate.â The two lawyers smile at you like youâre 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. âA toast to good grades and an even better future.â 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.
âThank you,â you happily sigh. âI wouldnât have been able to do it without your help with the studying. I really appreciate you both for doing that.â The lawyers look happy hearing that kind of praise and gratitude from you. âWell, you can thank us by helping us make it through this party,â Higuruma sighs. âAfter all, we need to show our law school graduate around to all of these fine, fun folk.â
He looks around the room, looking like heâs thinking anything but nice things about the guests. You snort to yourself. âDonât we, Nanami?â he asks, smirking at the blonde. Nanami sighs to himself, looking absolutely done with being here. âI barely even want to be here. I almost want to be back in traffic.â
He turns to you now, a small smile playing on his lips. âBut hearing about your grades makes it worth it all.â 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. âW-Well, maybe next spring when I graduate, you both can come to the ceremony,â you nervously suggest. âItâs only right since youâre my bosses and mentors.â 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. âMentors?â Higuruma parrots. âWeâre your mentors?â
Immediately, your confidence slips. âWell, you did help me study and youâve shown me so much about the legal system. I look up to the both of you.â You bite your bottom lip, feeling as if youâve said too much. Youâre moving too fast. Youâre overdoing it! âI-Iâm sorry I assumedââ
âDonât apologize,â Nanami firmly interrupts. His eyes are all aglow with a quiet passion youâve never seen before. âWeâd be honored to be your mentorsâŚif thatâs what you want.â 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. âThen Iâd be honored to call you my mentors,â you giggle. âLetâs toast to that too!â 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.
âOh, there they are!â someone announces. You turn, finding one of the firmâs oldest lawyers walking over to Nanami and Higuruma. âWeâve been looking everywhere for you two! Câmon, the chairman wants to see you.â 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. Itâs 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. âOh, Y/N!â she exclaims, taking your hand. âThere you are! Come here, you have to try these white chocolate raspberry bars before theyâre gone!â 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 otherâs. You watch as they chat with chairmen and CEOs; attorneys and paralegals; city officials and policemen. Itâs honestly annoyingâŚprobably because of the champagne you drink.
With every passing minute, you sip a bit more, feeling even lighter and riskier than your first glass. Youâre pretty sure youâre on about four ½ glasses at this point, so much so that you start seeing things. You believe you feel Nanamiâs eyes on your ass from across the room or Higurumaâs 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 doesnât 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.
âThatâs the easiest thing Iâve made all night!â the bartender exclaims, making you laugh. âGod bless you!â After they finish whipping up your drink, youâre 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. âYour Nanami and Higurumaâs paralegal, right?â he asks. You shake your head. âIntern. Not a paralegalâŚyet.â
He nods, chuckling at your humor. âI donât think Iâve seen you around the office before. I wouldâve remembered a face like yours.â His tone is flirtatious and you pick up on it immediately. Usually, youâd disregard and ignore this, but tonight? You may just play along.
âPossibly,â you reply, lowering your soda. âI have one of those faces.â Feeling particularly chatty, you put a hand out for a shake. âIâm Y/N,â you blurt. âIâm an intern for the law firm on the sixth floor.â The man races to shake your hand, hanging on for longer than necessary. His palm is sweaty. âAh, yes, the law interns,â he chuckles. âIâm Mark, an associate for an accounting firm. Iâm up on the eighth.â
He flashes a pearly white smile that is probably supposed to make you swoon. âThat explains why we havenât seen each other,â you giggle. He laughs with you and you decide that heâs cute enough to waste time on at the party.
âMaybe this party is good for something then,â he flirtatiously says, his smile turning suggestive. âI was planninâ on leaving soon âcause this crowd is dead, but you just might make me wanna stay.â And just like that, he pops the bubble on your fantasy plan. âOhâ is all you can say.
No doubt he is trying to get into your pantsâŚor rather under your dress. You turn to sip your water in silence, trying to think of something to say to let him down easy. âAre you here with someone?â he asks and his hand goes crawling to yours again.
Now you really need to think of something fast. âUmâ is all you can get out before a shadow descends upon you and him. You both turn to find Nanami standing there. âOh, sorry, am I interrupting, Mark?â he asks. He sounds apologetic, but you can tell he isnât by the firm set of his lips.
The attorney beside you gives your boss a lop-sided smile. âJust my drink,â he jokes as the bartender passes him a whiskey. âTo what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Nanami?â He cocks his head to the side, drunk and cocky. âSorry to cut in, but I need to steal Y/N away for a moment,â Nanami explains before turning to you. âWe hate to do this now, but since youâre here, weâd like to plan out the schedule ahead of the holidays.â
âOh!â you exclaim, your brain already switching into work mode. âUmâŚyeah, sure, of course.â You turn to Mark who looks less than pleased about being cockblocked. âIt was nice meeting you, Mark. Iâll see you on the seventh floor one day.â 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 arenât too sure why he and Higuruma are doing this now during a party, but youâll 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 cologneâspicy and musky like cinnamon. It makes your body react in very nasty ways.
âYou wonât be seeing him,â he says. You blink, your fuzzy brain almost not catching that. âWhat?â you ask.
He turns to you, his eyes firm. âYou wonât be seeing him,â he repeats. âNot to gossip, but the man is known to stick his dick where he makes his business. Heâs slept with half of his department and a lot of his clients.â
You almost forget who the hell he is talking about until you remember (of course!) Mark. âDamn,â you scoff. âWell, thank you for the saveâŚnot that I was planning on sleeping with him or anything. Heâs not my type.â You immediately flush, hot with shame and embarrassment. You shouldnât have said any of that. âFuck that champagne,â 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. Nanamiâs office consists of tan furniture, a plush couch where you often do your work, and his book collection while Higurumaâs 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. âTook you two long enough,â he grumbles. Nanamiâs office is dark, only lit by the full moon coating the floor in silver and illuminating Higurumaâs manly, handsome features.
Suddenly, your heart begins to pound. âS-So whereâs the schedule?â you stammer. Nanami shuts the door behind you and walks up to stand beside Higuruma. âThere is no schedule,â he confesses. âSorry to bring you up here so randomly, but we didnât want to do this in front of everyone.â
You scowl, confused. âDo what?â you ask, looking between them. The two give each other a look before Higuruma provides you with an envelope from under his suit jacket. âTo give you this.â
You stare at the envelope, even more confused. Tentatively, you take it and look at them, unsure. âOpen it,â 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. âOn 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. SignedâŚâ Your eyes grow big at the signatures. âKento Nanami and Hiyomi Higuruma,â you exhale.
The two handsome men standing before you smile while youâre busy trying to resist the urge to pinch yourself. You have to be dreaming! Youâve gotta be! âY-Youâre offering me a job?â you softly ask. Higuruma smirks. âYou donât miss much, do you?â
Nanami nudges his partner in the arm. âWeâve noticed the work youâve been putting in for us all these twelve months. Donât think your hard work went unappreciated, Y/N. Youâve helped us a lot, even without us telling you, and for that, this is what we have to offer.â His gaze is soft, intimate. âThis is just to get your foot in the door. Of course, you donât have to stay forever and weâll help you study for the BAR if you want to take it.â
Higuruma doesnât add on, but he doesnât 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. âIâŚ.I donât know what to say.â Higurumaâs smirk widens. âSay youâll take the job.â
Finally, you break into a humongous smile and you jump up and down. âYes!â you squeal. âYes, yes, Iâll take it! Thank you both so much!â 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. âCareful!â he exclaims, catching you. âThat wouldâve been nasty.â 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 donât. 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 likesâŚwants 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 itâs 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. âWhoa,â he exhales.
Yes, whoa. Whoa, that was the best kiss youâve ever had. Whoa, you just kissed your boss. Immediately, you jump back as if burned and over your mouth. âOh, God,â you gasp. âI-Iâm so sorry. IâŚoh, God.â 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. âY/N,â he softly says. You quickly side-step him and step away from Higurumaâs touch. âI have to go,â you sob. âI canât be here. I shouldnât be here.â You begin to panic, dropping the job acceptance letter in the process. You donât try to pick it up.
âWait, Y/N,â Nanami pleads. âStay. Itâs okay.â He walks toward you like youâre a wounded animal, gingerly and slowly. âNo, itâs not!â you whimper. âI canât believe I did this! Iâm gonna ruin everything now! I-Iââ
A hand grasps yours and pulls you close into his big, warm body. âSweetheart, calm down,â Nanami soothingly says. âItâs okay.â 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. âItâs okay,â 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 donât 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. Nanamiâs 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. âH-Hang on,â you stutter.
He stops, his hands still on you. Questions flare in his hooded, brown eyes. âTell us what you want, Y/N,â he says, his voice strained. âTell us to stop and we swear to God, weâll stop.â Nanami pauses too, slight pants leaving his lips. You want to apologize, to tell them that this isnât right or proper or appropriate to do. This is so, so wrong.
But as you stand here in the dark sandwiched between your bosses, youâve also never felt more right. âKeep going,â 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 youâre making them feelâŚand have made them feel for months now.
âWe wanted this for so long,â Higuruma whispers into your neck. âYou have no fuckinâ idea, Y/N.â His thick lips press down your spine, peppering your skin in wet kisses. âYou donât know how many times I wanted to pull your ass aside and do this to you.â
âSo many times,â Nanami growls, his hands sliding up to your hips to indulge in them. âYou make it so hard to control myself, darling.â Youâre 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.
âTake it off,â you whisper and motion to your dress. The lawyers share a surprised look with each other that quickly melts into lust and need. âYou tell us if you want us to stop, you understand?â Higuruma sternly asks. You nod, but that isnât enough. âWords,â he states. âGive me your words. Speak up.â
Your nipples harden at his firm tone, loving how he puts you so effortlessly in your place. âYes, sir,â 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.
âShit,â Nanami exhales while Higuruma chuckles. âSo thatâs why that ass looked so good tonight,â he murmurs, taking a handful of it for himself. âYou should be forbidden from wearinâ dresses and pencil skirts around us, yâknow. You make it very hard to concentrate on much.â
One of his big hands glides down your asscheeks to slide between your inner thighs. âBut you know that, donât you?â 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. âOh, fuck,â you moan, tilting your head back at their ministrations.
âNaughty little thing,â Higuruma tuts, still rubbing you. âYouâre so fuckinâ wet. You mustâve needed this from us, hm?â He presses his fingers up, rubbing your clit in circular motions. Your moans grow louder, leading Nanami to capture them with his mouth.
âYou need to quiet down, baby,â Higuruma says, humored. âYouâll have the entire party cominâ up to see why our good little intern is makinâ so much noise.â Nanami pulls away to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him. âI bet she wants that,â he whispers. âBet she wants everyone to know what sheâs doing to us.â
âIâm sure they do,â Higuruma chuckles. âThis ainât the first time weâve walked around the office hard as rocks for her.â He rubs you a little harder, making you bite your lip at the sensations. Jealous, Nanami glares at his partner. âThatâs enough, Hiromi,â he growls. âYou need to share. Youâre not the only one here.â
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. âI wanna taste you,â he confesses. âI wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?â 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.
âNow look whoâs beinâ fuckinâ greedy,â Higuruma growls, impatient. âI need a taste too. Scoot over.â âWeâre both gonna tongue fuck that pussy now,â he whispers. âWhen you need to cum, you let yourself do it, got it?â
Once again, you gush at the tone of his voice, much to Nanamiâs enjoyment. âY-Yes, sir,â 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. âOh, shiiiit!â you groan, grasping Nanamiâs head and Higurumaâs hand on your hip just to hold onto something.
You feel as if youâre 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 Higurumaâs hands on your ass holding you steady; every lap of Nanamiâs tongue against your clit. Higuruma is busy sliding his tongue along your slit, his nose rubbing against your assâŚwhich 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 Nanamiâs 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 theyâre both starving for you.
You donât realize how loud you are until you hear yourself moaning throughout the empty office. âO-Oh, fuck!â you wail. âIâm gonna cum! Youâre gonna make meââ
âWait,â 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. âI hear footsteps.â 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. âLetâs get her on the desk,â he suggests, his gaze lustful. âShe needs somethinâ for that mouth if she wonât shut the fuck up.â
A smile that youâve never seen before grows on Nanamiâs 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 youâre 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. âOpen your mouth for me, baby,â he demands, taking off his suit jacket. âPut those pretty lips on me.â 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 smilesâŚand he barely does that, so you must be doing a good job. âThatâs it,â he groans. âSuch a fuckinâ slut for me.â 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 Nanamiâs 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 Higurumaâs cock as you get close. âCum for me, darling,â Nanami groans into your pussy. âDo as youâre told. Cum all over my fuckinâ face right now.â
With a high-pitched squeal, you do, leaking and creaming all over Nanamiâs tongue. He greedily laps you up as you write and shake on his desk, much to Higurumaâs 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. âDonât be greedy, Nanami,â he growls. âGive me some.â
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 âthingâ going on, but then again, you wouldnât think youâd 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. âLook at this naughty girl gettinâ off to us,â he snorts. âYou wonât go tellinâ people about us, right, baby?â 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. âI canât fuckinâ take much more,â he huffs. âI need to fuck you now or Iâll lose my mind.â He begins toying with your tits, massaging one while Higuruma plays with the other. âTell me you want that too. Tell me what you want, Y/N.â
Higuruma pinches one of your nipples, causing your mouth to open wide on a gasp and his big cock to slip out. âNeed you,â you gasp out. âBoth of you. I donât care how! Please just fuck me!â Youâve never been so fucking horny in your life. You feel as if youâll die if you donât cum again now.
The two lawyers look at each other, both contemplating how to maneuver this as if youâre a case they canât quite figure out how to win. âYou go first,â Higuruma suggests. âI wanna fuck her throat a little more.â Nanami doesnât need to be told twice, his eyes molten with lust. âBend over,â he demands and you do, assuming the position.
The two groan at the sight of your plump ass exposed over Nanamiâs desk, your heels still on. They both give your ass an open-palmed smack, making you gasp at the pleasurable sting. âSo good at taking orders,â Nanami murmurs in your ear. âI like that. Thatâs what good girls do.â 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 youâre 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. âFuck!â you loudly moan. âOh, my God, yes!â
Another cock slaps against your mouth and slides in, not stopping until it is in your throat. âUh-uh, baby,â Higuruma chuckles. âToo loud. Little slut just canât help herself, can she, Nanami?â His partner is too busy ramming your cunt to answer, doing his best to hold back his moans and gasps.
Higuruma snorts. âNeither can you, apparently.â Nanami glares at him, silently telling him to fuck off as he presses his front into your back, pushing himself deeper. âPush back on me, darling. Fuck me back.â You do as he orders, tossing your ass back into him and pushing yourself farther onto his wonderful cock. âGood girl!â he moans. âNeeded this for so long. Needed you so bad.â
He murmurs and babbles into your shoulder, suckling on it as he pounds into your wet heat over and over again. It doesnât take you long for you to feel the urge to cum again as Nanamiâs balls slap against your needy clit, stimulating you further. âMâcwumming!â you whine around Higurumaâs cock just as that second intense wave washes over you.
âGood girl,â Nanami grunts, holding your shaking body close as your pussy walls grip and stroke him. âSuch a good, good girl for me.â 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 theyâre not done yet.
âLetâs switch,â Nanami tells Higuruma. âI need to feel her mouth.â 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.
âShit, baby,â Higuruma hisses, gripping your hips in his big, calloused hands. âYouâre so fuckinâ wet. I can get so deep.â His hand wraps around your throat while Nanami fucks it, groaning at its tightness. âYou want it deeper, donât you?â he teasingly asks. âYou want me to fuck this pussy till it cums again?â
âMmm-hmm!â 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 dutiesâsucking and fucking them when they are stressed at work. Wouldnât that be so nice? Your body certainly thinks so.
Higurumaâs heavy balls slap against your clit as he pistons into you, making the desk shake. âFuck, baby!âhe grunts. âYouâre gonna make me cum soon.â Nanami lets out an agreeable moan, fucking your throat. âM-Me too,â he stammers. âYouâre gonna be our good little assistant and take our cum for us, darling?â
Before you can even think about answering or trying to, you hear something. Knock, knock, knock. âUmâŚMr. Higuruma?â someone calls outside the door. âMr. Nanamin, are you in there? Itâs Itadori!â Instantly, the two lawyers grow still and anxiety pushes your hormones out the door.
âShit!â Higuruma hisses. He clears his throat, doing his best to sound like he wasnât just pumping you full of his cock. âY-Yes, weâre in here,â he calls. âDo you need something, Itadori?â
Yuji Itadori is by far one of the cutest and sweetest interns in the firm, so you donât feel too angry about being interrupted. Just extremely sexually frustrated. âOne of the lawyers sent me up here to fetch you,â Itadori explains. âTheyâre about to start the anniversary speech in about fifteen minutes!â
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. âWeâll be down soon,â Nanami replies. âThank you, Itadori.â
âYou betcha!â Itadori chirps. âOh, and if you see Y/N, tell her that the cake is out! I saved her a slice!â Then off he goes, his footsteps disappearing down the hall and the ding of the elevator slicing through the silence. Once heâs gone, you all breathe a collective sigh of relief.
âNow then,â Higuruma growls, âletâs make this little slut cum before we get caught.â
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. âCum for me,â he urges you. âGive it to me, baby. Cum on that dick now.â
Maybe itâs the way he talks you through it or how Nanami sounds fucking your face or the fact that youâre 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 Nanamiâs cock as your cunt massages and strokes Higuruma off.
âFuck!â he grunts. âIâm about to cum too. Where you want it, baby? Tell me now before I make the decision for you.â
âO-On me!â you gasp out, still in the throes of your orgasm. âDo it on me! Anywhere you want!â
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. âOf course, it is, you slut!â you critically think. âYou just fucked your fucking bosses!â
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. âWell, thatâs one way to celebrate a job offer,â 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. âYes, it is,â Nanami chuckles, eyes and cheeks aglow. âYou were amazing, darling.â His pet name and the praise makes your stomach flutter like a school girlâs when she sees her crush.
âHope you donât go givinâ that to any other employer in your future,â Higuruma chuckles, his body and forehead glistening in sweat. Your eyes drink in his body, committing his and Nanamiâs to memory.
Your stomach flips, glad to see that things arenât awkward or weird anymore. You move to sit up on Nanamiâs desk, facing both of your bosses. âOh, trust meâŚI wonât. I doubt Iâd have any employers as sexy as you two.â 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.
âThe feeling is mutual,â Higuruma sighs. âYou have no idea how long weâve wanted to do that with you.â Nanami hums in response, gently moving a strand of hair behind your ear, but itâs really just an excuse to touch you. Despite the tenderness, you canât keep denying the pink elephant in the room. âSoâŚwhat now?â you ask.
The two lawyers stare at you blankly, obviously not quite getting what you mean. Higuruma laughs, already buttoning up his shirt. âWell, if you mean in the present tense, I suggest we all get cleaned up and go back to the party before someone comes lookinâ for us again.â
Nanami pulls his pants up, fastening his belt. You watch, doing your best to swallow that lump in your throat. That isnât what you meantâŚ.but what else could you mean? Surely, you donât 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. âOhâŚyes, of course,â you softly say. âWe definitely should. UhâŚcan one of you help me with my dress?â
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 donât want them to see you cry if you do. You canât tell what youâll do off of the BrĂźte champagne. After you finish dressing and checking your hair to make sure it doesnât look too suspicious, the lawyers first check the hall to see if itâs 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 wouldnât 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, youâre 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.
âIf you meant âwhat nowâ as in what about us, I hope you realize that this isnât just a fling for us,â Higuruma says, his deep voice filling the tight space. âIt can be if you want it to be, but if youâd like this to be more official, I wouldnât be opposed to that.â Your mouth falls agap as you gape at him. He stares back, his eyes intense and unmoving.
âMe either,â Nanami adds. âExcuse my language and call me a selfish motherfucker, but I canât say the idea of seeing you with another man other than my partner doesnât tick me off.â 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. âIâd like that too,â you shyly admit. âBut maybe we can keep this on the low for now? Just until I start my new job, at least.â
Ding the elevator goes as you finally arrive to the lobby. Nanami smiles, running his thumb along your knuckles. âIf thatâs what you want, Ms. L/N,â he teases. âSee you after the speech.â 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. âThere you are!â she announces. âLook, Yujiâs cute ass left you some cake! Where the hell have you been?â
You give her a smile and take the plate from her, needing something sweet to end your night off right. âI just got a job offer.â
THE END.
#higuruma x black!reader#black fanfic writer#smutty smut#black coded reader#black writers#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#nanami x black!reader#my works#my one shots
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So what are you favorite fics, recommend please
Folie a Deux - By @prael, my favorite fic series of all time, god fucking dammit its actually a masterpiece, every binge read of this fic reveals more stuff for me to think about more about the characters, stories, interaction and everything in between, Whenever the next chapter will come out you could bet i would read it as soon as i can
Two Hands - By @msafterhours, one of the few fics that made me ugly cry from fluff and the wholesome vibes, the smut itself is also great, could not reccomend it enough for the people who believe in Girlfriend Nana Propaganda
The Echo of three - by @faebled-stories, read it only today and i cant say i was not enamored by the writing and the dynamic, only been introduced to Cuckquean through Prael's Day 11 of Kinktember (also read this one as well, amazing fic) And this fic is not different, also helping me learn more about the Kink and also as an Overall great fic.
The Comeback of a Lifetime - by @k-dgn, Another fairly recent fic that i have enjoy reading a lot mostly for the pure horny this fic oozes, good setup, amazing writing on the seducing and the sex itself was just...wow, one of my favorite Pure horny smuts
Cheeky Icy Thong - by @ggidolsmuts, Always a sucker for an Established relationship, but then have it go in such a wild direction with how needy both Sieun and MC are for each other, and the fact this is one of the FEW smuts that Sieun has and its that good? cant ask for more
Handcuffed - by @erospandemos, Yeah i wanna be a Sub for Chaehyun, yes i requested this fic from him, i appreciate it so much and is always a reread for me whenever i am feeling down, honestly read all of Eros's masterlist its honestly so good
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Alternate plot idea: Doofenshmirtz as a child always got blamed for something the family poltergeist did (could've been an actual poltergeist or some other more mundane cause), so he's building some kind of ghostbustinator that makes ghosts and spirits visible (Perry is a bit early and mostly just sits to the side with a cup of tea until Doof is done). Kira, who's on visit in the Tri-State Area for some reason, happens to learn about this in a way that makes him assume that Doofenshmirtz is in contact with L and/or is specifically building the device to unveil Ryuk. Cue a variety of shenanigans involving Doof's name as mentioned by og, possibly involving Doofenshmirtz getting the idea that Kira is a LOVEMUFFIN exchange student intern assistant or something.
While Kira goes on his final incriminating rant and/or has a meltdown due to all the shenanigans, Doof activates the now-finished inator without noticing, revealing Ryuk while he isn't looking and consequently assuming that Ryuk is there to pick up the exchange student intern assistant. The inator falls apart / explodes a moment later due to one of Kira's earlier attempts at sabotage, distracting Doof as Perry arrests the guy and drags him away. The only thing left is the notebook on the floor to be picked up by Doof.
The episode ends with Doof leaving whatever place he'd built the inator in, presumably somewhere with some kind of ghost rumor, and coming across the P&F squad; P&F have been trying to communicate with the dead for Isabelle's seance badge or something today and have been trying and failing to help the resident ghost move on into the afterlife (either having failed to communicate entirely and been running from an angry poltergeist for most of the episode, or only just got to the moral-of-the-story part about how sometimes someone's personal issue can't be solved in a day and needs to resolve itself in its own time). Cue Doof who had been researching some ghost catcher stuff to build his inator and pulls out the notebook he found because letting a ghost write into a notebook was one of the things the people in those internet videos do a lot. The ghost writes their name in the notebook, summoning Ryuk to take them to the afterlife and causing the Death Note to self-immolate due to some technicality about writing your own name in it. Doof wonders if that's where his inator's self-destruct button went.
Five seconds of slightly awkward silence and staring at a small pile of ashes later, Candace runs into screen yelling at her mom about P&F communicating with a terrifying ghost. Linda looks at Doof for a moment before chastising Candace about not calling someone that to their face and dragging her away again while muttering something about the difference between a pharmacist's coat and a bedsheet.
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It has been a bit over a month since the first time I watched Dead Boy Detectives and I now have watched it from start to finish four times. Oops. I don't know how that happenedâI certainly wasn't prepared for this level of love for a series.
Since I haven't really been in any fandoms or tumblr in, like... ten years or whatever, I wanted to write about why I fell in love with Dead Boy Detectives when I saw the series for the first time. I don't know if anyone's interested in reading a long-ish post, but in case you are, buckle up because this is going to be pure love and positivity from start to finish. It's mainly about Edwin and Charles, though.
I started watching the show without any background information and never having seen the Sandman either. I rotate streaming services and it was Netflix's turn. I read queer fiction quite a lot and watch queer movies and series as a hobby, and remembered someone mentioning Dead Boy Detectives.
The beginning on the series was intriguing enough already, but it was during this scene that I knew I was going to watch the entire thing:
This leads me to the reason I love the series so much: the carrying force of the story is the love Edwin and Charles have for each other, be it platonic or romantic. I'm a sucker for themes like found family and being loved as your authentic self because that's something I crave. I have always been more or less lonely because of social anxiety and struggling with social situations. Perhaps that's why stories containing those themes have such a profound effect on me each time.
Of course, the way the series combines elements of horror and comedy with heartwarming and wholesome sweetness is delightfully refreshing in itself. Dead Boy Detectives kept me glued to the screen so that I finished it in a day the first time I watched it. However, the characters are what makes the show so brilliant. I think the cast in general is phenomenal, but it's the love between Edwin and Charles that I felt most while watching.
This obviously is where I have to praise George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri for their acting. I think it's largely thanks to them that I love Edwin and Charles so much. Their characters' chemistry and the fond way Edwin and Charles interact with each other in the series is something I felt viscerally right from the beginning. It's obviously ingrained in the overall plot, but the love can also be felt in the smallest gestures. How many shows do you have where your favorite character dying is one of your favorite moments in the series because it's so sweet? (I'm sure you can deduce my favorite character from this...)
Personally, I also think that George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri's acting is particularly spellbinding during the moments their characters break down and show raw emotion. In an odd way the characters' suffering is what makes episodes like The Case of the Devlin House and The Case of the Very Long Stairway so brilliant. The characters' emotions during their most vulnerable moments are so tangible.
I know there has been talk about how season two would look like if the series was revived, and honestly, I think there's one crucial thing that should be kept as it is or the entire thing would be ruined: the carrying force of the show being that Edwin and Charles are willing to do anything to not to get separated.
I can't see any universe where someone becomes more important to the two main characters than what they're to each other. Charles says that Edwin is the only person he'd go to Hell for. We know how Edwin feels. The love is there already. If either of them had a long-lasting romance with someone else, the love interest would get two with the price of one. Equally important? Wellâpossibly. Love isn't finite. More important? Never.
I'd like to see Edwin and Charles get together, though. They're like an old married couple already and I can't imagine them being together with anyone else in the long run. At least the first season left things open enough for interpretation, with the cancellation and all.
Last but not least, it's a bit crazy that I only saw the show for the first time a bit over a month ago and was ready to splurge on a cameo. It was my birthday during the gameoden week and I got a birthday message! It was very sweet and has cheered me up ever since. I'm not sharing it here because I feel it's a bit personal with my birthday and all, but I loved it.
In case you ended up reading all this, thanks for reading my love letter for the show and the characters and the actors!
#dead boy detectives#dbda#save dead boy detectives#edwin payne#charles rowland#george rexstrew#jayden revri#this series has me in a chokehold
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Im just gonna say it: the exact same argument about series 11 having a woman playing the Doctor but w/ inconsistent politic & fake activism applies to series 14 & a lil of RTD2 in general but in Black. Respectability politics & flimsy anti racism all over the shop
It thinks futuristic racism corrects racism "being a thing of the past" but then actively erases said racism of Britain's past. Twice. Not only that but it glorifies the 60s & regency period. Does "powerful" white supremacy commentary then slaps a regency wig on 15's head đ
It should go without saying that 1960s & 1800s Britain wasnt some post racial utopia. The show would rather make these periods more progressive than they really were instead of telling the stories of the POC living there or hell, show us history outside of 'the West'
It treats the dehumanisation of Black people as an inevitable part of future society. Fifteen has to be a perfect non violent victim of racism but can fridge the goblin king & the chuldur easy. Racism can/must exist but fighting back or having any reaction to ur oppressor can't.
The gag is RTD understands racial oppression when it affects *him* tho. The oppression of the Welsh is acknowledged in present day Earth bc it's a real part of history. Its addressed again in 2046 bc it's still relevent in the future. & did Ruby save Roger? No she got him gone!
It sanitises its own history. The Doctor has called out racial supremacy, human or not since day. And no they didn't always save *everyone*. Against the establishment to begging it & partying with it too apparently. Rosa has issues but at least it was hopeful...
It treats Fifteen as a white character made Black which has weird implications for a non human being from a "post racial" society. Thirteen wasn't a "human woman" but she still had the agency to call out every misogynist she met. Lawd forbid she cried over Jack Robertson đ
Despite having a Black Doctor they're written for a white audience. 'It's not about Black people, its about white people' sealed the deal. It treats their Blackness as circumstantial & not something they'll have to deal with regardless of time period playing it safe & palatable
This 1 should be self explanatory. If Donna's seen the Doctor's mind then she knows Fugitive Doctor exists so yes the Doctor comes in a range of different colours đ¤Şđ¤Ş And again if he's not a human Black man but an alien then why is it a surprise that he can change race? Ugh...
Isaac Newton wasn't that deep bc he's only there for the mavity gag but it opened a fuck ton of racism towards Nathaniel Curtis & antiblackness bc the racists camping the tag thought he was Black. 'Owning the right đ¤Ş' at the expense of POC in the show & fandom. Great job there..
RTD made the point of the Toymaker being racist then keeps him anyway? Takes a jab about cultural appropriation in Pyramids of Mars then based the finale on it anyway w/ Sutekh? Not even entertaining the Black Guardian ting. Like what's the point of any of this? It feels so fake.
Carla's not as egregious as the previous but apart from RTD copying & posting her name from Clyde's mum in SJA, she doesn't get a lot to do outside supporting Ruby's storyline. S14 then ends with Ruby calling her bio mum her "real" mum so her serving role didn't mean much anyway
The Giggle was the 1st flag bc it conflated all political related anger as bad bc it's anger instead of love đŤâđťwithout *single* look at why the current political climate is the way that it is. Pandemic, genocides, climate change & govt corruption yh ppl will be angry Russell đĽ´
Series 11 at least gets to gas itself up for having women write for the 1st female Doctor and having Black and South Asian writers for the first time in the show's history (which isn't a great achievement but ah well)
Series 14 doesn't have that to its credit.
Black woman who only exists to boost white characters stories, racism stories that don't give their Black characters full agency & 0 follow up of their experiences only this time w/ no Black writers. Same tings different font. What improvement was made exactly?
Tl;Dr - We have the 1st Black Doctor in the main lineup but this series handles race and racism poorly. There's barely any improvement from how race was handled in RTD1 and his handling of Black characters in Years & Years and It's a Sin hasn't been brought over. đĽ´
#doctor who#fandom racism#fandom antiblackness#antiblackness#racism#show analysis#doctor who analysis#rtd2 era#rtd2#rtd critical#anti rtd#rtd#chibnall era#performative activism#wild blue yonder#73 yards#the giggle#dot and bubble#rogue
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!PLEASE CLICK ON THE IMAGES FOR BETTER QUALITY!
âDo not be ashamed, it is difficult to keep the mind in its place here,â Mnemosyne tells him as she picks up their plates and brings them to the sink. He watches in complete bewilderment as she turns on the water and begins to wash them. âAre those plates even real?â Charles asks and Mnemosyne laughs. âNo, but I find the act to be calming. Would you like to dry?â
~ To Memory Now I Can't Recall by engineering_madonna on ao3
Notes on the story and the illustration itself under the cut.
THE STORY: I read this fic a little while ago and was utterly enchanted. Just about everything about it resonated with me: the gorgeous writing, Charles as the main character, the mystery around Edwin's amnesia, the amazing character studies. I am not exaggerating when I say that the way this story goes back into and expands on existing canon is something I have never seen before. I laughed, I cried, I was utterly satisfied by the resolution.
Please, do yourself a favour and check it out!
THE ILLUSTRATION: This moment in particular stuck with me. I won't spoil the story, but as soon as I read it I knew I had to draw it. Thank you so much @engineeratheart3 for giving me permission to do so. I had such a blast getting to stretch my wings and going for a full illustration in this style I've never tried. This piece truly was A Process, but I am happy to have tried my hand at interpreting this moment and figuring out all the little details to include (special thanks to @at-heart-a-gentleman @anxiousturtel and everyone else who replied to my post a couple weaks ago when I was asking for ideas for drawings to feature here!) I included two versions, one whose colouring is a little closer to my more moody, original sketch and one where I leaned into the dreamy vibe a little more. Do let me know which one is your favourite!!
#dead boy detectives#dbda#charles rowland#dbda fanart#digital art#fanart#fic illustration#smoll smule#smoll smule art
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