#horrible thing) and I've also found hes made comments such as

[six-seasons-andamovie]

Think I should start calling my uncle out for being a dick to me

[yinyuedijun]

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

[rubra-wav]

I had this interesting scenario where Vox one day becomes exhausted from his rivalry with Alastor after realizing that the one-sided interactions were becoming old. He later meets the reader (who can also be a part of the hotel) who starts hacking into Voxtech's database to troll the company for shits and giggles. This catches Vox's attention and he's pissed about it. You can do what you want for the rest but they continue to have this rivalry to the point where it's very well known around hell. From an outside perspective, there is just back-and-forth angry banter but there are moments where they're just;

Reader: *appears on screen* Hey Box head, guess who found some good blackmail with your name on it- Vox: *Is so close to having a breakdown, he had a bad week.* Reader: Oh shit- did something happen, are you okay? 😰

They hate each other but they don't hate hate each other. This can be taken as platonic or romantic. I sent this request to someone else but I wanted to share anyway.

Vox x troll/hacker reader: Why So Blue? (Oneshot/concept version)

Why So Blue fic Masterlist

A/N me when I get to write Vox getting utterly humiliated by a troll-y hacker demon 🫶

I changed about the order of stuff as things happen a bit and took creative liberties with this one - sorry if it's really different then the thought you originally had.

(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, THIS WAS FROM THE LAST TIME THEY WERE OPEN)

Update: This was really well-received, and several people have requested a part 2. I've decided that I will be writing it properly from the start in a proper chapter kind of way rather than in this format so it makes continuity kind of work better rather then the drabbl-y format used here.

Cw: SFW, romantic, enemy's to lovers type beat, references to one-sided radiostatic, also references to staticmoth, mildly suggestive in one part 💀, gn reader, mostly light-hearted - idk if it qualifies as quite hurt/comfort lmao

- It was just a normal morning for Vox when you first showed up.

- As usual, he booted up for the day, got changed out of his casual clothes, and made his morning coffee.

- As he walked into his computer room, absentmindedly sipping his coffee while looking at his phone, he sits down in his desk.

- Then promptly spits out his mouthful.

- When he finally looks up at the screens around him, he's mortified to see a muted video of himself passionately (and very drunkly) singing and dancing horribly from last night while he was out with Valentino and Velvette.

- Posted on Sinstagram from his own account.

- Hundreds of comments flooded in underneath it; laughing, saying it's cute, complimenting his singing, and talking about the caption underneath with curiosity.

- The caption reads; 'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here LMAO'

- Vox flips out instantly.

- It doesn't take long to take down the post, change all of his details, and post an official apology for his lack of professionalism with a hypnotising message to forget the whole incident occurred at all. He also does a massive comb over for any other breaches and changes all of his systems to be even more impenetrable to a potional attack.

- He calms down, and the incident fades away to the back of his mind.

- But then it happens again.

- Another morning, an employee is rushing into his studio as he wakes up properly, telling him this time that someone is somehow broadcasting Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to the entirety of hell at 6 am, interrupting every one of the scheduled programs.

- There's a message in big letters on the bottom of every screen in hell, under the god forsaken video and song playing, saying, "What is love~? - U" Underneath them.

- And that's how it starts, the infuriating thorn in Vox's side that is 'U'. No matter how hard he tries, you're constantly undermining his efforts to keep you out of the system and tormenting him in ways that aren't necessarily malignant but are extremely damaging to his image as the overlord of technology.

- For some reason, he's the only Vee you seem hellbent on coming after as well. Vel finds your pranks funny or cute when they don't inconvenience her, and Valentino just likes to prod Vox into getting angrier further.

- He just cannot work out what your motivations are at all. Is it truly that you just want to piss him off? He doesn't understand why someone with such clear skills would simply use them to taunt him and leave him messages to unveil as he undoes whatever you do.

- It vexes him even farther when these messages from you that you leave for him to decode start to sound borderline flirtatious, which makes him feel all the more humiliated.

- He is a grown demon, skilled businessman and entrepreneur, an overlord, and yet you insist upon calling him things like Box, Boxbabe, Boxbitch, and even babygirl of all things for some goddamn reason.

- The back and forth goes on for months, and 'U' quickly becomes a long lasting meme, several people, much to Vox's horror, shipping you two together and even partaking in ship wars as to whether Vox x 'U' is better then Vox x Val.

- Theres one day where Vox quickly puts his phone down after reading a rather concerning expert from what is certainly explicit fanfiction between the two of you, even him deciding that that's enough internet for today while just sitting staring off into space silently for a solid 10 seconds.

- Vox's sleepless nights pouring over his code to try and keep out your attacks, him glitching out whenever he finds infuriating messages left by you, etc. Begin to become routine and he just anticipates the consistent blows to his pride you give him at every turn.

- A weird, unconscious part of him deep down begins to enjoy your rivalry, almost wanting to see what punches you pull out next to disarm his constant losing battle to keep you out, but it gets squashed down the second he becomes aware of it.

- The rivalry is always at arms length, but sometimes he has to stop himself from replying with the same vaguely flirtatious tone you take on whenever he experiences a small win against you.

- He fights to make sure he doesn't have any potential of getting too into it.

- Things take a different turn, though, with the double blow of Alastor coming back and his on-off relationship with Valentino once again going up in flames.

- After stopping his usual monitoring of all things going on in hell online and in real life as picked up by his cameras, he presses his face into his hands with a long, exhausted groan as he fights crying.

- All the people he was actually interested in were as unrequited as per usual. He always tried so hard with Alastor, but as always, he never got anything but met with the clear reminder they would never be anything more.

- And, of course, any potential of anything more happening with Val was completely off the table. It would be stupid to even think about anything real with him.

- He shut his eyes, putting his screen on the desk in front of him.

- Was he just not worth it? Was that it?

- He startled when he heard the familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life around him. It was rare he ever heard your voice coming through his speakers, you usually preferring to just leave messages, however you decided to surprise him tonight apparently.

- Your blurred out face appears on the screens, only showing the lower half of your grinning face.

- "Oh Boooooxybooooy! I found some world-shattering cringey shit you did 2 months back, i-" You begin singing out, before stopping, seeing by his expression.

- Vox was trembling, looking as if he was about fall apart at any second. His monitor was dulled, red eyes half lidded with pixelated bags forming under them, his bottom lip slightly quivering around his sharp teeth.

- "What the- fuck- ....are you alright?" You asked unsurely.

- Vox finally snapped out of it, realising that you were here witnessing him in a way that was very much not something he wanted you of all people to see him in. His mask slid back on, but it was hardly convincing.

- "Of course it is. What the fuck do you wa-ant. I've got shit to do." He inwardly cursed as his voice glitched slightly. God fucking dammit why did you have to show up.

- He watched your lips on your mostly blurred out face slightly curl as you hummed, clearly not buying it.

- "You wanna stop with the lying bullshit and tell me the truth, Boxhead?" You somewhat chided him, your hand coming into sight as you leaned your cheek onto it. Vox let out a growling sound, going to spit some vitriol at you, but was cut off as you absentmindedly made your next comment.

"Felt you once again have a fit about the radio demon going online. Lights in my house and the houses out my windows started flashing and shit. Is it hi-" your brows shot up and eyes widened, this hidden behind the censorship as you watched Vox, leader of the Vees, your rival, let out a shuddering breath and actually start crying comically pixilated tears right before your eyes.

- Vox's claws gripped into his desk as he grit his teeth as he let out a gasping breath he fought to stifle. He was so goddamn exhausted that he just couldn't be assed to keep it all up anymore. It wasn't like you hadn't seen rather unsavoury things he'd been trying to hide anyways.

- "No shit it's about Alastor. It's always about him. Does it get you off knowing I can't get with the guy I have always wanted no matter how hard I try? There. Are you fucking happy now?" His voice cracks as he snarls the words out at you.

- You let out a long humming sound, as if thinking. "I mean, not really. I'd only be happy if you were this upset over me, not some old hazbin radio announcer who fell off years ago." You shrug with a slightly sad smile.

- Vox squinted at you, confused.

- "I mean, come on, I'm your rival too. Why neglect me so much in all this?" You press your bottom lip out in mock sadness, tone mocking again. Your words are true despite the joking tone however, it did bother you that he always seemed so much more ready to go running after the most obviously aroace man you think you had seen in your entire fucking life.

- Vox couldn't believe what he was hearing, hot embarrassment caused his monitor to start heating up a bit, painting animated flush over his cheeks. "Oh, stop taking the piss, U. Fuck off." He scoffed, rolling his eyes, looking to the side in irritation.

- You chuckle at him, shaking your head and causing the thing blurring your face to shake with it. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm into what we have going on here?" Your voice is still lined with the usual tone you take on with him, but much less so.

- Vox looks back at your blurred, smiling face incredulously. "Yes." He growled, blinking his tears away as he regained his composure a bit.

- You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes. "Ooookay, well, once you're done riding the coattails of a man who will never want you, come hit me up, Boxhead." You say through smiling lips, before abruptly pressing 'hang up' on the call so he didn't have time to actually respond.

- Vox sat in bewildered silence, not able to react properly as his brain felt as if it was working on low resolution comprehending what you just said.

- His face heated up the more he thought about it, heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he laughed in disbelief. No way. No fucking way.

- But you had said it.

- Despite his usual pessimistic nature, he allowed himself to actually believe it, chuckling.

- He looked over to his phone as a notification sound rang out to see a photo of himself presumably just now; flustered, eyes wide in disbelief and unfocused while staring off into space, a crooked grin on his face.

- It was captioned as follows; 'POV: local pathetic radio simp finds out other rival actually wants him'

- "FUCK." He yelled out in embarrassment, knocking out several of his monitors with a surge of electricity.

I loved writing this sm omfggg.

There's definitely part 2 potential to this one, but it would have to be in a while w all the other stuff I'm gonna get to first.

Masterlist

[flyingcakeee]

Quite frankly, I'm tired of F1 social media admins, both F1 itself and teams, as well as F1 journalists and content creators with big platforms.

Firstly, for teams and official accounts, you should NEVER be unprofessional to such an extent that you are using literal chosen ship names in your captions, weird nicknames, or be posting bashful content without reason.

You are supposed to be representing the "Pinnacle of Motorsports" yet you post shit like this for engagement. It is okay if you post funny haha clips, but this is severely unprofessional and even inappropriate at times. I want to narrow down specifically Red Bull's Threads account. It is very VERY unprofessional and I genuinely thought it was a fan account that somehow got a badge but no, it is the actual account. Posting THAT when Lance's contract was renewed is super unprofessional, it would have been 100x better if you didn't even acknowledge it, you never even acknowledged Pierre's. On top, using a driver who is known to be close to Lance for that picture? Just fucking weird.

Content creators and big name platforms have this same issue too.

I'm sure we all have heart of Rocket Powered Mohawk or whatever that man's name was or the Red Flags Podcast, both which use their platforms to shame on drivers. (Said screenshot is in reference to Lance Stroll).

Funnily enough, we ALL know about what David Coulthard said about Logan incorrectly when trying to blame him for a rather minor incident regarding a parking job when it was in fact not his car, and FEW have heard of what Crofty said about Logan. Unfortunately, Sky Sports does this a lot and constantly has a bias, in fact most F1 broadcasts do and you're safest bet is F1TV which is extremely expensive.

Or when a reporter asks a very clearly inappropriate question such as "how do you feel being the slowest driver" to a driver, that is literally so fucking unprofessional that they better be praising god they didn't get a snarky comment from the driver in response.

By the way, this goes for drivers as well, using their platforms to slam a driver.

This incident in particular not only caused many people to rally behind Lance but also caused many to support Bianca for something so tone deaf and horrible that I can never support her personally.

This doesn't go out for drivers personal accounts specifically, especially when it shows off their personality (take Tsolov's 'cringy' video which not only introduced us to him but showed us that he was a kid or take Fernando's TikTok as a whole and there's plenty more examples), but when shit like this or that happens, it is super discouraging to even be a fan of this sport. Not to mention that for everyone mentioned above, they now have free reign to shame on any driver through their likes as Twitter made it private.

I get marketing yourself or your team or your sport or whatever out to people who aren't apart of your community, but you are very much pushing them or your actual fans away a lot. You lose fans who don't want to associate themselves with you anymore because you were unprofessional. I've found and blocked many content creators because how absolutely disgusting the comments they made were, and the sad truth is, it's only a handful of drivers who receive this on most occasions, but it's not limited to any driver and EVERY driver can or will receive it.

It's harmful and disgusting and disrespectful to those individuals and yet you post things like this and wonder why some drivers don't use the internet as often.

(P.S., Lance has been interacting at fanzones a lot this year, he had to step away because he was getting hate.)

[stargirl-writes]

heal

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 3.5 k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

in which anakin skywalker chooses to run away with you before all is lost in mustafar.

tags : au, angst!!, hurt/no comfort

warnings : toxic love, dark fic, ptsd, and reader being so dependent on anakin, suicidal behavior

notes : my reader character being a healer is my self indulgent insert 😭

i've sat w this 4 so long cause i was like 'realistically, what would happen if anakin ran away?' and i think i've finally made up my mind abt it.

time is moving fast for this fic because i wanted to cover so much, so heads up for the skips!

ALSO, ear-ringing apologist perspective. if u can't handle reader being blind to faults, this is not for u haha!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

At least, it was something you want believed in.

The clone war that raged on revealed just how much people can be persuaded to do horrible things when their survival is at stake.

You underestimated that instinct yourself. The burning desperation to not lose your Anakin Skywalker. You thought, you would have killed for him, the way he would for you.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one to tell you how Anakin became irredeemable.

It was a blur how you flew to Mustafar despite it. You needed Anakin to admit to it, you needed to take him away from what he'll become.

The crimes he committed made you feel sick, septic like a festering wound.

But, whether you love what you love.

Or live in divided ceaseless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.

You've been so alone. So much so, you can only define a time with Anakin, and without him.

It was gradual. It couldn't have been some higher power that destined you to him, He had been a General of a war, and you, the Healer. It was all odds, that you fell in the right place at the wrong time.

An unwilling hero, and a glorified murderer.

He was crafted to be a tool in the war. Divinely created by the Force with the purpose of bringing balance. And in a war, that meant doing damage, killing.

Every victory he had was a stark contrast to yours.

Every life he takes, be it a droid or a separatist, is a win. And every life you lose is a name added to the long list of casualties.

You and Anakin were opposites.

So, the shock of it remains, because somehow along the way, Anakin loved you. And you loved him. You had each other to cling to.

The terror of What if it doesn't last, What if there's no one else? What happens if it goes back to being alone? persists.

And you might not belong anywhere else.

But you were his. As he is yours. Not in the manner of possession. Yours in the way of devotion.

Mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love.

You knew that Anakin's love was conditional. You were only the one in front of him. You didn't misunderstand. You let him use you anyway.

It's not like you were loving him unconditionally, it was because you were terrified to be lonely.

At least, in the beginning, you believed so.

Most days were occupied by your duties. And Anakin would love you in a way that is shaped like fingers wrapped around a throat. Incessant. Hungry. Teeth deep in possession. Making up for the little time, holding you against him as if he was bracing himself that someday you won't be around.

It felt like he was always saying goodbye.

So, though your heart was nearly breaking out of your ribs, you flew by yourself to Mustafar.

A pile of lifeless Separatist figures greeted you in horror.

It was true. Anakin had gone to the dark side. What he did with those children... 

The fear consumed you like a corrosion, but still, you stood in front of him, begging him to come back.

Anakin had carried a deep malaise when you had found him. It was almost emanating from his blood-stained robe, a coldness, a deadly assurance.

"You're not supposed to be here," Anakin says in a strangled voice. His hands firmly holding your arms.

The color of his eyes startled you. It was like looking at a ghost, and all that was left was an unending rage. You fought to not let your fear swallow you.

"Anakin, we have to go" Your lips quivered, not entirely sure what you were planning.

There will never be escaping the things he's done.

You want him to go away with you, anyway.

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. 

For a while, it was quiet. Anakin's glossy blue eyes were gazing at you, in conflict, and begging to be understood.

"I can't... Don't you see? I've restored justice to the galaxy" He abruptly lets go, and turns, concealing his face away from your sight. "The things I've done... I can't, there's no running away from it"

The guilt he feels leads him to think that the only path now is through the one he sacrificed his morality for.

"No," you struggled, voice failing to hide your anguish. "Anakin, you can't let this be your fate. Run away with me." You pleaded, eyes filled with tears.

A life of loneliness. With no one, the way it used to. 

Then, Anakin half turns. He surveys your willingness to take him as he is. Maybe, even wanting to believe it.

You have always loved Anakin, even the parts you have not understood.

Perhaps, this was the similarity that bound you together. Burning devotion. One that allows you to see past your moral code.

You gave so much to the war. You'd run yourself spent from the hours. You fought so hard to keep people from dying. You'd never taken anything but this. A chance at life. Away from it all.

"I would've done anything you asked of me" His voice reveals his devastation.

You stepped forward, "Then come with me, Leave it all behind, I need you"

You held your breath, half convinced that this may very much be the end of things.

But Anakin takes your hand, and you don't waste a minute more to take him away in your ship.

Your hands shook the entire time.

The galaxy was silent when the war ended.

Mace Windu's attempt to assassinate the Chancellor made the Jedi an enemy of the Empire.

It triggered an Order that made clone soldiers turn against their Generals. The Jedi are hunted down for treason.

You and Anakin will never find security again.

The atmosphere was thick with emotions that were strained by the abruptness of events. It was making it so much harder to breathe. To live with the truth of it.

All three years of the war are reduced to two moments; Anakin falling into Palpatine's manipulation, and Anakin choosing to run away with you.

You caught yourself slipping away. Tucked in a corner of your mind where you can feel safe.

The healer's oath replays in your mind, the cruelest reminder.

Blind to faults, blind to good. Serve to save, not to see.

As the jedi healer, you weren't allowed to deny patients. You wondered whether that played into role when you stomached all the horrible things Anakin did.  Serve to save, despite, despite, despite...

You landed in a remote place on your home planet of Hapes.

It was a secluded cabin that you used to go to when you were younger. Surrounded by a lake that stretches as far as your eyes can see. It was the first thing that came to mind when you set your ship on autopilot.

Anakin was quiet the entire time.

You, too, became paralyzed by the events that has unraveled.

For a few days, it remained like that.

Though the event has passed, your body can't quite regulate.

It still feels as though someone will find you. And take Anakin with them. You knew your hypervigilance was a consequence of your trauma, but knowing doesn't mean you can let the feeling go.

Even Anakin responds to mild stressors as if he was still in the war. He'd not let you off his sight the first few weeks.

You felt as though Anakin was trying to process everything in his mind. And you grew terrified of his growing silence. Knowing Anakin meant knowing his tendencies to vacillate violently. The reality of what he had done would set and it'd twist into something septic. An unending shame.

You were convinced that he'd have killed himself from it.

But then he'd stare at you deeply as if he was committing you to memory. He'd coddle your face in his palm. He'd hold your hand, hands that are capable of so much rage, and so much tenderness. He'd hold you tight against him in bed, the way he used to.

He can't quite communicate it through words yet, so he'd rely on his touch to let you know that he was still here. Your anxieties eased after. He needed to detangle it on his own. You'd be there whenever he is ready.

Obi-Wan Kenobi appears the next month.

It was through luck that you were the one to open the door.

You knew Obi-Wan would want Anakin to answer for the crimes he's committed.

You won't let him.

"What do you want?" You say cautiously. Stepping forward to the Jedi Master to stop him from entering your new home.

Obi-wan furrows his eyebrows at your action. He gazes at you for a moment before speaking up. "You know what he's done, [Name]"

"The Republic has fallen. The system that replaced it won't hold him to what he's done. It's the very reason for its existence, anyway"

Obi-Wan's eyebrows flashed hearing your words. It seemed as though you'd be the last person he'd expect to exhibit such... heartlessness.

"And what, do you intend to keep him here forever?"

You looked down, fiending an expression of indifference you learnt from Anakin.

"I'm more selfish than he is"

Obi-Wan sighs. There were no more Jedi Council to hold Anakin accountable. You wonder if Obi-Wan had gone looking for him out of the responsibility he felt he had. You could use that.

"If you have any love left for Anakin, You'll leave him with me" You persuaded.

Obi-Wan sharply looks at you. You knew he was being torn apart by his mind and heart.

The door swings, revealing Anakin who appears behind you.

Anakin's arm extends to put you behind him. Obi-Wan was caught, stricken by the sight of his apprentice. You held on to Anakin's forearm.

You held your breath.

Then, Obi-Wan opens his arm to hug Anakin.

Anakin froze, perhaps not expecting his Master to embrace him after...

He turns his head to look at you, then back to his Master. And he reluctantly wraps his arm around Obi-Wan.

You exhaled finally.

You saw Obi-Wan's glossy eyes as he pulled away. He may not forgive Anakin for all the things he's responsible for, but his love for him surpasses all the anger he has.

Gaining his master's acceptance, Anakin became recognizable once more.

However, Obi-Wan could not stay. Perhaps, he's grown sick of stomaching the love he had for Anakin. It was not an easy feeling to be fond of.

When Obi-Wan left, Anakin finally came to you.

It hauntingly paralleled the moment he broke down after he lost his mother. After he gave in to his rage. Only this time, he didn't hold the pose of defiance and came undone, weeping for what he'd done.

You held him and told him that what matters now is what he'll choose to do.

And in the months that come, Anakin has fought to deserve your forgiveness.

He wanted to earn your love.

As a healer, your experience with foraging natural medicine made you more equipped to build a sustainable life. In six months, you were able to make this house by the lake a place to call home.

But, Anakin is being dragged through time. He'd do his best to help, but you can feel his... silence. The weight of it, this was not the life he was groomed to have. He has always lived off the adrenaline. The absence of it makes him constantly feel as though he is at the other end of the high.

It'd worry you whenever he comes home late from a hunt. He's always been reckless, that much hasn't changed. He'd come home covered in tissue deep cuts, bruised muscles, and a dead-pan look in his eyes. It was a topic that you tried to communicate— and a topic Anakin would respond defensively to.

"It's nothing" He'd dismiss whilst you were dressing the wound.

You'd press the clean gauze over his skin, on the brink of anxiety. He'd wince and take the gauze from your hand.

And you'd stand up and leave, because your patience would have run out by then.

It upset you how he always stands on a cliff to wait for the winds to swoon him over because he won't jump, he won't make that decision himself.

Your breaths were shallow as you tried to calm down after yelling about how his passivity over danger was eating at you. You needed him to try. Because you can't save him on your own.

"I'm sorry" Anakin looks down, receding. " I just don't know how to do this" He admits, eyes wide, childlike, helpless.

And you thaw, breaths shallow as you fought to not cry from the anger.

"Anakin, if you don't..." You began, looking down at the ground as if the words would appear before you there. "if you don't want this anymore, you can go"

Because the entire year you have spent in this cabin, it felt like time has frozen. You hoped that in time, you and Anakin would find the courage to move past the war. Of course, it was futile, you can never take back what you've given to the effort.

Whatever is left of you and Anakin is all there is now. And sometimes, it feels like there is nothing. Just ghosts of who you once were. You weren't sure if being with you was making any difference at all.

You were selfish, but not enough to keep him as he wastes away. You'd let him go, even if it'd cripple you forever.

Anakin grabs both of your shoulders firmly, forcing you to look up to him.

"Why do you think I came with you?" Anakin's voice was stern. His eyes fixed, determined to imprint words to your heart.

You held on to his arm, swallowing your anguish. "I only meant that if I'm not doing you any good, you should—"

"And where would I go?" He interrupts, unrelenting.

"I don't know" You admitted. You're ruining him. You've done this to him. You should let him go.

His grip loosened, and his lips kept opening and closing as if he was eating up the words before letting it leave his mouth.

"—I'm trying, [Name]"

"I'm giving you my life, I don't have anything larger to give" His voice breaks, and his head dips. "I'm trying" he repeats.

You felt his tears warm against your clavicle. Your fingers tangling with his hair.

"I know, Ani" You coo gently. "We'll try together" You promised.

It was becoming clearer that he was alleviating his sins by trying to kill the entity that once controlled him. It was also becoming harder to see a monster when all you see is Anakin, the love you abandoned everything for.

Anakin, who was sold as a slave, and then freed, only to be chained to another lifelong servitude through the Jedi. Anakin, who was dropped in the middle of a war, and made responsible for a child whilst being a child himself.

The Jedi Order relied on his nature of winning, despite not agreeing with his tactics. He'd be patronized for his violence, which his life would soon be defined by. Anakin's worst action is murder, the same way his best action is murder. Because if he doesn't answer to the shots fired, he'd be the one receiving them.

He was never afforded any space to become anything else.

Except when he's with you.

Anakin can become cruel, the same way he is loving. Two truths can exist at the same time.

And with the months that flew by, you watched as Anakin continually chose to not let his darkness define him.

You were learning things about him that you couldn't have had during the war. The way he neatly keeps inventory of his tools. The intense focus in his eyes when he is concentrating. The way the wood creaks— the cadence of his steps. All committed to memory because no one else can know him the way you do.

He told you, you saved him. And you wept, unsure whether what you did was really an act of selflessness.

Living with him became easier. No more effort to try to gain his love. No approval, no admiration to attain. There is no role to play, no one to convince. Just, being. There was so much time, and the only thing that mattered was; how long do we have each other?

Most days, Anakin would carry his grief so well, that you'd forget it was even there. He'd work to minimize it, to live with it. However, when the dark comes, he has no control over his dreams. and the overwhelming shame and guilt seep.

It had been two years when you woke up abruptly to find the space beside you empty.

You grabbed your robe, the cold midnight air felt crisp against your skin. Finding Anakin was easy. He'd always wander towards the edge of the lake, staring at the moons.

"It's cold, Ani, come back to sleep" You urged, but Anakin's gaze was far away.

He has chopped some of his hair, and it looked the way it used to during the war. It startles you sometimes to remember how young he still was.

"I had a dream" He speaks softly, arms finding a way to snake around you so he'd press you against him. "It felt as real as you now" His gaze lands on you.

It terrified you to ask, but you did anyway.

"We had a child"

Oh.

You chuckled in surprise. Stepping back to process what he said. It just never seemed to occur to you, then. Though you have never dismissed the idea, it just felt like you were barely surviving to try to raise a child.

Anakin smiles when he realizes he made you flustered. "Good thing it was only a dream?"

You let out a breathless laugh, somehow relieved that Anakin was not seriously considering it.

"Yes," You weren't ready. You may never find it in yourself to ever be ready.

"We're not bringing a child now, not like this"

Anakin's expression melts, "Yes, the empire is growing stronger" His guilt resurfaces.

"I never imagined it to be like this for us," He thinks out loud,

"We have to make the best of what we have" You sigh.

"I've been thinking" Anakin begins, "maybe, there is still something that can be done"

You try steadying your breath, somehow bracing yourself for this moment; when he'll want to fight again.

It was everything he was made for. You knew that, you just didn't think it'd be in under a short period.

Something was screaming inside you. A fear, that you thought had gone when you ran away with Anakin. It was telling you that you were going to lose him. And you, selfishly, want to stop him. He can't... if he goes, he'll die. And you can't even begin to imagine what'll happen to you if he dies.

"How?" You asked despite yourself.

"Ahsoka mentioned something about a rebellion," He says, voice thick with something he hasn't had before. Hope.

"The galaxy needs changing" He steps forward.

You shook your head, overcome by the anxiety of it. "Anakin, I'm never going back"

He turns on his heel, eyes narrowed at your proclamation. "I didn't ask you to come back"

You tilt your head, "Of course, you weren't" Though you knew you were being unfair, just the idea of it was sending stress already.

Anakin's eyebrows knit. "I'm only thinking out loud, it's one thing to consider it but another to act on it" He defends.

Though, you know this is where it begins. And you were responding defensively because you knew where it would lead.

Anakin will forever feel as though he has to restore the galaxy to how it was before he helped destroyed it. It won't be long until he'd despise himself for choosing to stay here with you. Especially since it's been drilled into him that he's supposed to be the one to bring balance to the force.

Whether he loves you or lives in a divided ceaseless revolt against it, what he chooses to love is your fate.

His purpose or you. 

Going would give him his closure.

Going would anchor you to the hells of your biggest fear.

"Anakin, please don't go where I can't follow" Your voice broke, begging. It was selfish to want to keep him for the second time.

And you weren't sure whether your love would be enough for Anakin to stay.

Not when it only brought him here, a home by the lake, forever standing on thin ice that always threatened to break under.

You were living under the false pretense of security. All of this, the house, the lake, the isolation, are reminders that you and Anakin will never go back to normalcy, no matter how much you pretend.

A knife may dull, but its purpose remains to cut.

Anakin's expression softens and he presses his lips on the temples of your forehead.

You were slowly understanding that the entire galaxy's fate was carried inside Anakin Skywalker.

The chosen one.

Every decision he made was informed by that pressure. No matter how personal, it always builds to a path that he can't control, because it's already laid out for him.

Created by the force, to be used by the force.

So you can't find the heart to be angry when he left.

You decided it would be hopeless to try to stop him. Anakin has this view that everything in his life, he has to work to earn. To deserve.

Even this... freedom that you have.

He has to contribute to it, in this perverse grandiose action as to fight the Empire. So he can accept that you do indeed love him.

He has to seize this opportunity with Ahsoka. He is more autonomous of his power now. He is once again engaging in something that's risking his life. He can fulfill his destiny.

It didn't make it any less painful.

You had to inspire confidence in him, otherwise, he'd doubt. So, you pushed all your feelings away and smiled when you kissed him goodbye.

You never left the war. The two years you stole were only stalling the inevitable. Perhaps, two years was too generous.

"Bring him back, please" You took Ahsoka aside. Ahsoka nods uncommitedly. For, she won't promise what she can't deliver.

And once again, you have found yourself alone.

He swore he'd have done anything for you.

Just not this one.

His belief that he has no inherent right to life; and has to work to earn anything made you feel as though you were his... prize. A trophy. In which he'd fight for to retain but not value enough to take care of.

He should've stayed. It's good he left.

Because now that you have nothing, you're finally able to detangle how Anakin doesn't love you. Not in the way you thought. Anakin loves that he has you.

You have always put his wellness first, that now, when you are not so worried by walking carefully around his hurt, you are able to feel yours.

Perhaps, losing Anakin was good. You can finally put yourself first. Whilst he still seeks answers in the past

There is no going back to the way it was. You tried living 'normally' and it just became a bitter reminder that you are forever changed.

Acceptance of that and lending yourself a little more compassion might just be the beginning of your healing.

footnote

i'm obsessed with the writing style where authors strikes through the text ! it's such a smart way to imply that the character that's narrating is choosing not to allow those thoughts and so it looks like it's been scribbled out .

also, quoting ka applegate on relationships not lasting outside the war :

"wars don't end happily. not ever. often relationships that were central during war, dissolve during peace. some people who were brave and fearless in a war are unable to handle peace, feel disconnected and confused. "

[panakinthedisco]

ALL TOO WELL  ━━ Javier Peña x reader

summary: it had been two years since the last time you've seen Peña and you only wanted to reach out as a friend.

author's note: this is my first time posting in here so many apologies if you've come up some typos or wrong grammar, english is not my first language.

content warning: implied smut but just overall angst! and ohhh boy, you're in for some treat. reader is AFAB and in late twenties.

word count: 6k

It's a horrible decision, to say the least.

The purpose of reaching out is to give yourself some closure with him. Also, there's that remaining piece of yourself from two years ago – that immature woman who fell head over heels for him and agreed to be in a set-up. But then you view him as a friend, a confidant, and you keep repeating to yourself that you view him as a friend – nothing else.

You initiated a call to him one afternoon at his office. You couldn’t remember the last time you talked with him, but you know it was two years ago when Messina offered you to work with her to the office of the U.S. Embassy. There was no hesitation when you called their number, and you were surprised that you still remembered it.

“Peña speaking. Who is this?”

His voice caught you off guard, but you responded, “Hi, Javi.”

You could feel that he was also speechless when he heard you at the other end of the line. It might have been too long for both of you.

“Hey there! I haven’t heard from you in a while. Nor have I seen your pretty face around here, cariño.”

You laughed at his endearment. Peña was still a smooth talker – some things never change. For you, maybe it’s okay to relive the nostalgia of yesterday. You replied simply, still grinning, “I’ve been awfully busy with Messina, Javi. Trying to keep up with her. But overall, I’m doing well.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. You’re the only one in Colombia who can tame Messina,” he chuckled.

You laughed again, feeling a wave of warmth. “I just wanted to check on you,” you admitted. “I miss you, Javi.”

There was a pause, and then Peña's voice came through, softer. “Why don’t we meet at Bodega de Abasto this evening?”

You were taken aback. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s alright,” he assured you. “I want to see you.”

His comment made your heartbeat faster, but you shrugged it off. “Okay, after work then.”

“Perfect. See you there,” Javier replied, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“See you,” you said, hanging up the phone with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You were transported back to the days when you worked with the DEA detectives, Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. Assigned with Messina to file reports for the Pablo Escobar case, you often found yourself in the same office as the two men. Steve treated you fairly and exhibited an impressive professionalism that you admired. His dedication and focus were something you aspired to emulate.

Meanwhile, Javier was different. He was flirty and usually chatty with you, making the long hours in the office more bearable. The interactions at the office soon transitioned to casual drinks at a local bar and quick smoke breaks during lunch. These moments blurred the line between colleagues and friends.

One evening at the bar, the dim lighting and soft hum of conversations created a relaxed atmosphere. Javier was telling a story, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and you found yourself laughing more freely than you had in a long time.

"You know," you said, taking a sip of your drink, "I've never been in a serious relationship. Never even had a boyfriend."

Javier looked at you, his surprise evident. "Really? How come?"

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable. "I guess I never found the right person. Or maybe I was too focused on my work."

He nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. "You're young. You have time."

There was a moment of silence, the kind that felt charged with unspoken thoughts. You broke it, curious about him. "Have you ever had feelings for someone?"

Javier's expression turned serious. "I did, once. But I'd prefer not to talk about it."

Despite your countless conversations with Peña, he remained enigmatic. You decided not to press him further.

Out of the blue, Javier leaned closer. "Have you ever been intimate with a man?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "No, I haven't. I've always been curious about it."

Javier's eyes darkened with intensity. "What if we had a friends with benefits arrangement? No strings attached and view this as lessons."

You were taken aback by his suggestion, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your eyes. "You seem awfully confident," you laughed, trying to lighten the mood. But Javier wasn't laughing or teasing. Your smile faded as you realized his seriousness. "Are you... serious?"

"I'm being serious," he replied, his voice steady and eyes unwavering.

You stared at him, heart pounding, unsure of what to say next. You thought for a second and realized that you had always been comfortable with Javier. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to do it with the only person you recognized as a friend in the DEA. Besides, it seemed harmless.

Before you could speak, you didn't notice that Javier had already moved closer, his presence overwhelming. You could smell his masculine perfume mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes. He reached out and gently tucked an unruly strand of hair behind your ear, making you look at him. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"So, are you still interested in my offer?" he asked, his voice low and compelling.

You bit your lip, trying to think clearly, but it was hard with him so close. You didn't notice that Javier's gaze had dropped to your lips, watching your every movement.

"I’m not sure, Javi" you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Javier's eyes met yours again, his expression unwavering. "Your eyes say otherwise."

The gravity of his words hung between you, the air thick with anticipation. Your heart raced, and for a moment, you were lost in the intensity of his gaze, wondering what your answer would mean for both of you.

"I need to think about it," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

Javier leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. "Think about it all you want," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "But you won't be able to forget this."

His breath on your ear made you lose any logical reasoning, and Javier knew the effect he had on you. He was enjoying every second, watching you become flustered and shy. He knew you were always expressive and quite a spitfire, and seeing this side of you was thrilling.

"You'll forget all about the paperwork," he murmured, his lips brushing your earlobe.

You still couldn't speak, the words caught in your throat. You could feel his hand on your thigh, slowly sliding up above your knee. The tight pencil skirt you were wearing did nothing to impede his touch, making every movement even more electrifying.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked suddenly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You swallowed hard and whispered, "Yes."

"Good girl," Javier whispered, his lips grazing your neck. He kissed your skin softly, and you elicited a small moan as his teeth scraped gently along your neck, followed by the warm, wet sensation of his tongue.

You closed your eyes, your breath hitching as he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation that left you trembling. Javier's hand on your thigh moved slightly higher, and you could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of your skirt.

His lips found a particularly sensitive spot, and you couldn't help but moan softly again, your body responding to his every touch. Javier pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your body aching for more of his touch. The look in Javier's eyes was filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, knowing he had you right where he wanted.

"Just say the word, cariño" he murmured, his hand still resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "And I'll make you forget everything else when I fuck you hard on my bed." Javier's lips continued to explore your neck, sending waves of sensation through your body. You were flustered and caught off guard by the intensity of his touch and the profanity of his suggestion.

You managed to find your voice, albeit shakily. "But what if my lack of experience... disappoints you?"

Javier paused and pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. He laughed softly, a deep, warm sound that made your heart flutter. Gently, he kissed your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment.

"Don't think of it like that," he said, his voice soothing and reassuring. "Think of it as a lesson from a friend."

His words made you feel slightly more at ease, though the anticipation and nerves still thrummed beneath the surface. Javier's hand moved from your thigh, and he cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek.

"I'll take care of you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I promise."

His reassurances made you feel a mix of relief and excitement. Javier leaned in again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. You could feel the intensity behind it, a promise of what was to come.

As you kissed, his hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you close. You responded, your own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles through his shirt. The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into him, your worries and doubts fading away with each passing second.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless and slightly dizzy from the intensity of it all. Javier's eyes were dark with desire, but there was also a softness there, a gentleness that reassured you.

"Trust me," he said softly. "We'll take it slow. You'll be fine."

You nodded, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. Javier's confidence and care made you believe that maybe, just maybe, this was something you could do. Something you wanted to do.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice steadying. "I trust you."

Javier smiled, his thumb still brushing your cheek. "Good. Now, let's get out of here before I rip your skirt in here.” 

You laughed and before you knew it, you’re in his apartment and his large hands are all over your body. 

Over the next few months, you and Javier had many meet-ups, most often at his apartment. Your first time with him was sweet, slow, and passionate, making your toes curl and leaving you breathless. Javier had been patient and tender, guiding you through each moment with a softness that made you feel cherished.

But as time went on, your "lessons" became rougher, more intense. Javier pushed your boundaries, exploring new heights of pleasure. His intensity was intoxicating, and you found yourself lost in the raw passion you shared. The intensity of your sessions grew to the point where even his neighbors started complaining, a testament to the volume of your screams and the fervor of your encounters.

Yet, what you loved most was the aftermath of these so-called lessons. The moments when the storm of passion had passed, and you lay in his arms, both of you breathing heavily, spent and sated. Javier was always gentle afterward, pulling you closer to him, his touch soft and reassuring.

One particular evening, you found yourselves wrapped up in each other on his bed. The room was dimly lit, the scent of sweat and sex lingering in the air. Your body still tingled from the intensity of your latest encounter, and you nestled closer to Javier, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "You make me feel amazing," you replied, your voice soft.

He chuckled softly and kissed your forehead. "I meant what I said. No strings attached, but I want you to feel good. I want you to enjoy this."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. Despite the roughness of your physical interactions, Javier's care and tenderness afterward made you feel deeply connected to him.

"I do enjoy it," you admitted. "But I think what I enjoy most is this... being close to you."

Javier's eyes softened, and he tightened his hold on you. "Me too," he murmured.

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. The passionate encounters were exhilarating, but it was the quiet, intimate moments like this that truly made your connection with Javier special.

As you lay there in his arms, wrapped in the warmth and comfort of the moment, a thought crossed your mind. You hesitated for a moment before voicing it, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Javi," you began softly, "have you been seeing other women despite our set-up?"

He looked down at you, his expression serious for a moment before he shook his head. "No, I haven't," he admitted honestly. "What about you? Have you been seeing other men?"

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "No, I haven't. My dating pool isn't that good. Besides, I think I prefer this kind of set-up. The relationship aspect isn't there, just sex. And to think about it, it's less stressful for me."

Javier laughed, a deep, hearty sound that made you smile. "You're thinking like a man," he joked.

You looked up at him, a playful glint in your eyes. "That's the best compliment I've ever gotten from you," you said before leaning in to kiss his lips for a brief, tender moment.

He smiled against your lips, his arms tightening around you. "Well, I mean it."

You rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. The simplicity and honesty of your arrangement brought you comfort. Time passed, and your relationship with Javier deepened in unexpected ways. You found yourself frequently staying at his apartment, sometimes for a day or two. His place became a second home to you, a sanctuary away from the pressures of your everyday life.

You often wore his shirts while cooking meals in his kitchen, the oversized fabric making you feel enveloped in his presence even when he wasn't around. The scent of his cologne clung to the cotton, a comforting reminder of the man who had become such an integral part of your life.

Despite the nature of your arrangement—just friends with benefits—you began to feel a deeper connection to Javier. Your physical intimacy was unparalleled, but it was the quiet moments in between that started to mean the most to you. Sharing a laugh over breakfast, watching movies together, or simply lying in bed talking about anything and everything.

However, there was always a part of Javier that felt distant. He still had walls around him, remnants of his past that he kept guarded. Sometimes, even in his arms, you felt like he was miles away. He was always near physically, but emotionally, he remained somewhat elusive.

One evening, you were wearing one of his shirts, cooking dinner while he sat at the kitchen table, watching you. The comfortable silence between you was punctuated only by the sounds of the sizzling pan and the occasional clink of utensils.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I really enjoy spending time here. It feels... peaceful."

Javier looked at you, his expression softening. "I enjoy having you here," he admitted. "You make this place feel less empty."

As Javier's words hung in the air, admitting that you made his place feel less empty, a warmth spread through you that made your cheeks flush. You quickly looked away, hoping to hide your blush, but Javier noticed the sudden change in your demeanor.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. "Is there something on your mind?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was it, the moment you had been avoiding but couldn't deny any longer.

"I... I've been meaning to tell you something," you began, your voice trembling slightly. Javier's gaze was steady on you, waiting for your words. "I... I have feelings for you."

For a moment, Javier didn't speak. His expression was unreadable, and a sinking feeling settled in your chest. You could sense that he didn't feel the same way.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off. "Forget about it," you said quickly, looking down at your hands. "It's nothing. I shouldn't have said anything."

Javier remained silent, and the weight of his unspoken response hung heavily in the air. You felt a mix of disappointment and embarrassment, wishing you could take back your words.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, feeling the need to fill the silence. "I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"No," Javier finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "It's not that."

You looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes softened, and you could see a hint of regret in them.

"I care about you," he began slowly, his words carefully chosen. "But... I think we both knew from the start that this was... different."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah, I know," you replied, forcing a small smile. "No strings attached, right?"

Javier reached out and gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and comforting. "You mean a lot to me," he said sincerely. "I don't want to lose what we have."

You nodded again, trying to hide the ache in your heart. "I understand," you said softly. "I don't want to lose it either."

Then, as the night wore on during the outing with your co-workers, the atmosphere buzzed with laughter and camaraderie. Sitting among them, you felt a pang of guilt and uncertainty gnawing at you. Finally, you decided to confide in your friends about your complicated arrangement with Javier.

"I've been sleeping with Javier for quite some time" you admitted hesitantly, taking a sip of your beer. "But lately, I've been thinking..."

Immediately, the reactions were swift and unanimous. "You should cut it off," one of your co-workers chimed in. "Friends with benefits never end well."

Another nodded in agreement. "You deserve someone who's all in, not just when it's convenient for him."

Their words resonated with you, stirring doubts you had been trying to suppress. Maybe it was time to move on, to explore something more meaningful.

As the night progressed, one of your co-workers encouraged you to mingle with other men. They introduced you to a handsome and intelligent forensic scientist from another department. He was charming, witty, and genuinely interested in getting to know you. You found yourself enjoying his company, easily connecting over shared interests and stimulating conversations.

In the weeks that followed, you began dating the forensic scientist. He was attentive, making you feel valued and appreciated in a way you hadn't felt with Javier. Your dates were filled with laughter, intellectual discussions, and a growing sense of companionship.

Despite your new relationship, thoughts of Javier lingered in the back of your mind. You hadn't been to his apartment in months, choosing instead to focus on building something with your new date. The absence of late-night visits and shared moments with Javier felt like a significant shift.

Then one day, as you scrolled through your phone, you realized something unsettling. Javier hadn't reached out to you in weeks, not even a casual text or call to check in. The realization hit you hard — he hadn't bothered to ask where you were or how you were doing. It was as if your absence didn't matter to him — and the thought that he’s seeing other women. 

The pang of hurt mixed with disappointment weighed heavily on your heart. You had hoped for some acknowledgment, some sign that maybe he cared more than he let on. But now, faced with the silence, you can't deny the truth.

You sighed, setting your phone down and taking a moment to collect your thoughts. Perhaps it was time to accept that Javier's feelings, or lack thereof, were clear. Despite the bond you had shared, it was evident that you were more invested than he was.

With a heavy heart, you knew what you had to do. It was time to prioritize your own happiness and move forward, whether that meant focusing on your new relationship or simply letting go of the ties that bound you to Javier.

But you were stubborn and wanted to see him for the last time. You came to his apartment uninvited and as you stood outside Javier's apartment door, your heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Despite trying to move on, thoughts of him had been persistent, haunting your thoughts and dreams. You couldn't deny that you still cared deeply for him, despite everything.

Raising your hand to knock, you froze. Through the thin walls, you heard a woman's voice — loud, desperate, and filled with passion. Your heart sank as realization dawned on you. You knew exactly what that sound meant.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. Without a word, you turned away from the door, your footsteps heavy and slow as you walked down the hallway. Each step felt like a weight on your chest, a crushing reminder of what you had hoped wasn't true.

Outside, the tears began to flow freely, unchecked and unashamed. You didn't care about the people passing by, their curious glances or whispered remarks. All you could feel was the ache in your chest, the betrayal of your own feelings, and the harsh reality of Javier's priorities.

How could you have been so blind? You had clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between you. But now, faced with the truth, it was clear that you had been fooling myself.

Sitting on a nearby bench, you buried your face in your hands, letting the sobs wrack your body. It wasn't just the pain of seeing him with someone else; it was the realization that you had allowed yourself to fall so deeply for someone who couldn't offer you what you needed.

Memories flooded your mind — the laughter, the passion, the quiet moments shared in his apartment. They all felt like a cruel joke now, mocking your naivety and vulnerability.

Eventually, the tears subsided, leaving you drained and hollow. You wiped your cheeks, taking a deep, shuddering breath. It was time to accept the truth and find the strength to let go.

As you walked away from Javier's building, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter, if only slightly. The pain was still raw, but somewhere amidst the heartache, you found a glimmer of resolve. You deserved more than half-hearted moments and unspoken promises. It was time to heal and rediscover your worth, far away from the echoes of his door and the echoes of your shattered heart.

As you entered the restaurant in your sleeveless red dress and black heels, the ambiance of flickering candles and soft music caught you by surprise. You scanned the room nervously until you spotted him, sitting at a table looking remarkably dapper and he’s not in his usual leather jacket. Javier's surprised expression mirrored your own as you approached, a mix of confusion and intrigue evident in his eyes.

"Hey," You greeted him with a smile, trying to hide your uncertainty. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was horrendous."

He stood up, pulling out the chair for you with a gallant gesture. "No worries at all," he reassured you, his voice warm and sincere. "I don't mind waiting a little longer, especially when my date is beautiful."

His use of the word "date" caught you off guard, sending a jolt of mixed emotions through you. Javier had never referred to your time together in such a way before. Despite your deep connection, you had always maintained a casual understanding.

"Thank you," You replied softly, sinking into the seat he offered. "This is... unexpected."

He nodded, his gaze searching for mine. "I wanted tonight to be special," he confessed, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "For us."

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of hope in your chest, a tentative excitement mingled with apprehension. As you sat there, the soft glow of the candles casting gentle shadows across his face, he’s still the attractive DEA agent. 

The ambiance of the restaurant enveloped as you sat down, ordering your meals and exchanging polite conversation. Javier's usual charm was accompanied by a touch of something more earnest tonight, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and nervous anticipation.

As we waited for your food to arrive, Javier leaned forward slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "So, how have you been?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, appreciating his genuine interest. "I've been okay," you replied honestly. "Actually, things didn't work out with the forensic scientist."

Javier raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Really? I thought you two were hitting it off."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Turns out, we weren't as compatible as I thought."

He nodded, understanding. "It happens."

Curiosity getting the better of you, you decided to ask him the question that had been lingering in your mind. "And what about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

Javier's expression turned slightly guarded, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. "No," he answered simply. "I'm not."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his response, a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Come on, Javi," You teased lightly. "I find that hard to believe. You're telling me there's no one?"

He leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It's true," he insisted. "No one."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical yet intrigued by his answer. "No one at all?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. "After our... arrangement ended," he began slowly, "I didn't go back to the brothel."

His admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. You hadn't expected such honesty from him, especially about something so personal.

An awkward silence settled between Javier and you, thick with unspoken emotions and uncertainties. Just as the tension threatened to become unbearable, the waiter arrived at your table, offering a welcome distraction.

"Good evening, are you ready to order?" the waiter asked, smiling politely.

Both of you quickly placed your orders, grateful for the brief respite from the heavy silence. Once the waiter left, you couldn't shake the feeling that reaching out to Javier tonight might have been a mistake. The ease and familiarity you once shared seemed distant, replaced by a palpable tension.

You had hoped to reconnect, to rekindle the friendship you had before things became complicated. But now, sitting across from him, you realized how much your dynamic had changed. Accepting his offer to be in a friends-with-benefits setup had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to explore without the pressure of a committed relationship. But it had only served to blur the lines and complicate your supposedly friendship with him. 

The regret gnawed at you, and you wondered if you had damaged something precious beyond repair. It was this confusion and discomfort that had driven you to accept Messina's offer to work with her at the embassy. Distance had seemed like the only way to escape the tangled web of emotions and regain some clarity.

"I've missed this," Javier said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of wistfulness. "Just talking to you."

His words tugged at your heart, reminding you of the easy camaraderie you used to share with him. "I've missed it too," you admitted, forcing a small smile. "Things just got... complicated."

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and regret. "Yeah, they did."

You took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. "I never wanted things to get so tangled between us. I value our friendship, Javi. More than anything."

He reached across the table, his hand covering yours. The warmth of his touch sent a familiar jolt through you, a reminder of the connection you once had. "I value it too," he said sincerely. "It has never been the same when you’re no longer in the apartment.” 

You couldn't help the bitter thought that crossed your mind. It stung to think about the months that followed, knowing he had started seeing other women. The memory of hearing someone else in his apartment that day was still fresh, a reminder of the emotional distance that had grown between you and him. 

It always been easy for him and that fucked you up immensely. Maybe you’re just another whore for him that he can easily bed. 

Listening to him, you maintained a neutral expression, even as your heart ached with unresolved feelings. "I looked for you," Javier continued, his tone softer. "After you left the DEA, I heard you were working with Messina. I wondered if you left because of me."

You forced a smile, trying to mask the hurt that still lingered. "Messina offered me a higher salary," you said lightly, hoping to divert the conversation from the painful truth.

Javier's eyes searched yours, as if trying to see beyond your words. "Is that all it was?" he asked quietly.

You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to lay all my emotions bare. "It was a good opportunity," you replied, your voice steady but lacking conviction. "And I needed a change."

He nodded slowly, though the doubt in his eyes remained. "I miss you," he said simply, the vulnerability in his voice making my heart clench.

You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle between us. "I miss you too," you admitted softly. "But things got so complicated."

"Complicated is an understatement," he muttered, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I never wanted to push you away."

As Javier's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you and him. Tears began to form in your eyes, and you couldn't hold them back any longer. The emotions you had tried so hard to suppress came rushing to the surface.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" You finally spoke, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid.

Javier was silent at first, his expression unreadable. The sight of tears streaming down your cheeks seemed to catch him off guard. He reached out, but hesitated, as if unsure how to bridge the distance between you and him.

Seeing your tears, he knew he had hurt you deeply. "I..." he started, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

"You should have told me how you felt," You continued, your voice breaking. "Instead, you made everything so confusing between us."

Javier's silence spoke volumes. He looked at you, regret and sorrow etched into his features. You wiped the tears from your cheek, feeling a mix of anger and sadness.

"If you had told me these things," You said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I would have stayed."

The weight of your words seemed to hit him hard. He looked away for a moment, struggling to find the right words.

Javier's eyes softened as he took a deep breath, his hand still holding yours. "I wanted to see you," he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. "No matter where I was or what I was doing, I thought about you. A year ago, I even went to the embassy to see you. I was standing outside your office, but I left before I could knock. I felt like there was nothing left to say, like I had already lost my chance."

Fighting back tears, you met his gaze. "I visited you too," you admitted, voice shaking. "It was two years ago, one afternoon. I stood outside your door, but I heard... a noise. A woman was with you. I walked away and cried, right there on the street."

Javier's expression shifted to one of shock and regret. "I had no idea," he said softly, his hand tightening around yours. "I'm so sorry."

Your frustration and annoyance boiled over, mingling with the sadness you had been holding in for so long. "You made me feel special, Javi," you said, voice rising. "You made me feel like you cared, like maybe you loved me — maybe a little bit. But it was never easy for me. While for you, it seemed so easy to find a new replacement."

His face fell, the weight of your words settling heavily on him. For a moment, he was speechless, staring at you with a mixture of pain and regret. "It was never easy for me either," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought about you every day. I cared for you more than I ever let on. I was just too scared to admit it."

You shook your head, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. "You should have told me," you said, your voice breaking. "We could have figured it out together. Instead, we just hurt each other."

Javier reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. "You're right," he admitted. "I should have told you. I should have been honest about my feelings. I was a fool for letting my fear control me."

As Javier's hand brushed against your cheek, wiping away your tears. Even after all those years, your mind and body still betray Javier's gentle touch and suddenly, you felt a rush of emotions. It was as if the feelings you had kept dormant for so long were suddenly awakening, breaking free from the cocoon you had placed them in. You reached up and gently touched his hand, slowly moving it away from your face.

"This was a mistake," You said softly, trying to steady your voice. "Calling you, coming here. It was all a mistake." You began to reach for my purse, intending to leave and escape the whirlwind of emotions.

But before you could stand, Javier grasped my wrist firmly, stopping me in my tracks. "Please," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Don't go."

You let out a mocking laugh, though more tears threatened to spill from my eyes. "Why now, Javi? Why say these things to me now?" you demanded, your voice cracking with the weight of your emotions.

He looked at your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and determination. "What's your real intent in seeing me?" he asked quietly, his grip on your wrist is gentle but unyielding.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I wanted to see my friend," I said, my voice trembling. "I missed my friend." “Bullshit.” He tells you. Fury is already evident in your already teary eyes. "If you don't believe me," you replied, "then there's no point in staying."  You pulled your hand from his grip, grabbed your purse, and left the restaurant.

As you walked down the sidewalk, the evening air cool against your flushed cheeks,  and heard rapid footsteps behind you. Before you could react, Javier caught up and stood in front of you, breathing heavily.

"You still have feelings for me," he blurted out, his eyes searching for yours.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Your ego is still the same, Javi."

"Why do you keep fighting what you truly feel?" he demanded, his tone a mix of desperation and anger.

"I'm tired, Javi," You admitted, your voice breaking. "I'm tired of running around, pretending that with every man I date, every man I sleep with, I don't think about you. But I do. Every single time. I feel like an idiot."

His expression softened, and he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "You're not an idiot," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."

"You don't get it," You replied, my voice shaking with emotion. "I needed you to be honest with me. To tell me how you felt. But instead, you let me believe that I was just another woman in your life."

Javier's eyes filled with regret, and he reached out, gently taking your hand. "I know I messed up," he said softly. "I was scared of a lot of things, so I kept my feelings to myself. But I never stopped caring about you. Never."

You looked away, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall again. "It doesn't change the fact that you hurt me," you whispered.

"I know," he replied, his voice raw with emotion. You stood on the middle of the sidewalk, the world around you a blur as your eyes stayed locked on Javier. Slowly, he walked toward you. You wanted to run, to escape the whirlwind of emotions, to escape from him but you were glued on your spot. 

Before you could think rationally, his hand was on your cheek, warm and gentle. As it felt like you’re coming home. 

"It might be too late for me," he said softly, "but when you called earlier, I thought maybe it was a sign. A second chance to make things right. I'm gambling on it now, no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as his words sank in. Javier leaned in and kissed your forehead tenderly, then wrapped his arms around you. You cried into his chest, the weight of your shared past and your unresolved feelings crashing down on you like a tidal wave. 

"Please," he murmured into your hair. "Can we start over?"

You took a shuddering breath, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. The vulnerability in his voice, the genuine regret, and the longing mirrored your own feelings.

"One step at a time," You whispered, my voice breaking. "But we have to be honest with each other."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a mixture of hope and determination. "I promise," he said. "No more hiding how we feel. We'll take it slow and figure it out together."

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, both of you could find your way back to each other. It wouldn't be easy, and it would take time, but with Javier's earnest words echoing in your heart,you felt a spark of hope that both of you could rebuild what you and Javier had lost.

"Okay," you said softly, wiping away the last of your tears. "Let's start over."

Javier smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart ache with the possibility of what could be. As both of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you felt a tentative hope blossom within you.

AVAILABLE ON AO3

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[average-mako-enjoyer]

Mass Effect LGBTQ+ representation issues and some headcanons

I've seen a few Mass Effect posts about the sexuality of the trilogy's characters, and I'd like to add my 5 cents, since none of those posts take into account the whole xenophilia aspect of canon relationships. And some of us are here for it. For the aliens. I am here for them. I'm not sorry.

Also, I have to acknowledge the fact that Bioware has made some very questionable choices, and the in-game representation is bad. Like BAD-bad.

I.E.(this list is going to be looong):

All Male Shepard/Kaidan Alenko dialog for ME1 and ME2 was written and fully voiced, but NOT INCLUDED in the final version of the game. And I know that the same thing happened to FemShep/Ashley, but that a bit different because...

The only "gay" romances in ME1 and ME2 are for femShep, and either with a female-representing human-like aliens (who like to dress in tight clothes that emphasize the size of their breasts), or with the equally feminine Kelly Chambers in ME2. Because, you know, guys who buy this game will be more tolerant of two "hot chicks making out" (insert a bunch of mods that make your femShep wear only lingerie and look like a TikTok e-girl) than a more realistic same-sex romance.

Especially when this romance is between two guys. Because ew. Right, Bioware? But you also wanted to sell your games to LGBTQ+ folks, so you installed a…

… so-called "gay button" into your games.

Before ME3, no one except for "hot chicks asari" states their sexuality. You can go through two entire games as a straight character completely surrounded by other completely straight characters. Oh, maybe Kelly likes aliens a little too much, but "who doesn't like asari", right? Even asexual salarians are into them. Sure, a straight woman like femShep…

"Hot chicks making out" really sells those game copies, I guess.

If you think ME3 is better, think again. The only two gay characters in the game are Cortez and Traynor, and they are both supporting characters, who are not even in your squad!

Cortez and his whole "I lost my husband" drama is conveniently placed on the lowest deck of the ship, so if this story offends your bigoted sensibilities, you can just ignore him along with the "dumb jock" Vega who is really unpopular with the players. Is it because he's really friendly with an openly gay character? Oh, who knows?

Meanwhile, Traynor is either mocked (oh, she found EDI voice hot and commented on that! what a shame! awkward lesbians, amirite?) or fetishized (don't get me wrong, Donnelly is funny, but his remarks about Traynor are even more yucky than the way he talks about EDI and lube).

But don't get mad about all this, because all the women in the trilogy are fetishized and heavily sexualized. The best example of this is Samara, whose character design is a war crime.

Bioware made Benezia look horrible (she tried to make Saren change his ways not with her power or wits but with those giant bazooms and the cleavage, I guess), and then they doubled down in ME2 and gave a warrior samurai nun a boob window. A FUCKING BOOB WINDOW. Because boys buy games, and they love boobs, y'know.

Oh, and any inappropriate remarks made by NPCs in the game are directed only at the femShep. Just like the MShenko romance, the male version of the dialog is fully voiced, but conveniently excluded from the game. Because guys can't tell other guys that they look hot in "that soldier getup". That can make bigots uncomfortable.

And let's talk about bi representation, because Bioware apparently hates bisexuals as much as straights and some queers do (trust me, as a bisexual I've experienced both types of hatred, and it's ugly). The only bisexual characters in the game are Kaidan and Diana Allers.

If you're a bigot playing as the maleShep, you can "safely" kill Kaidan on Virmire in the middle of the first game and not have to deal with his uncomfortable love confession at all!

So, yeah, Bigots: 1, Representation: 0. The bisexual is successfully killed, congratulations!

If you play as femShep, you won't even know that Kaidan is/was bi. Because who wants a bisexual guy who is comfortable with his sexuality? You can't sell that kind of romance to the good ladies who buy this game.

Diana Allers romance, meanwhile, is laugh-worthy. If you play as maleShep, you won't even know that she's bi. And if you're femShep, this romance is as insignificant as the one with Kelly, you won't even get an achievement for it! You can also kick her out of your ship without any consequences, so she will be KIA offscreen. You will find about it via fucking email. Bigots: 2, Representation: 0. Both of dirty bisexuals are successfully killed, congratulations!

The bi-xenophile Kelly suffers the same fate: no achievement for her romance, you cannot continue the romance after ME2, and she will either take a poison pill and die or be killed in the Collector's Base/Citadel offscreen in ME3. If she survives both the base and the Cerberus attack, you won't even get to say goodbye to her before the final battle of the game. Bigots: 3, Representation: 0

9. And I almost forgot about Omega DLC that kills the only female turian in the game. Who's also into asari. God, they did her dirty.

"Those were different times," you might say, but all of this could have been fixed in 2019, when the Limited Edition was released. Instead, we just have fellow modders changing the design of Benezia and Samara, restoring MShenko (one of the most healthy, respectful, and mature romances in the entire trilogy) and other gay romances in the game, making all NPCs flirt with your character, adding female turians and krogans to the environment, etc., etc.

Still, I think these games are great. The characters, the cinematics, some aspects of the writing, great! I love that canon. But the LGBTQ+ representation in those games sucks. Big time. But that doesn't stop me from having a bunch of headcanons. For the sake of convenience, I'm going to separate out all the characters for the games in which they debut.

Mass Effect:

MaleShep/FemShep: Both are canonically bi. Both don't mind the alien physiology thing and polyamory. Both are "married to your job" type, so they were okay with casual sex and one-night stands, and only mellowed out while in charge of the Normandy crew. Because of convenience, both had more hetero than same-sex hookups.

Ashley: Straight as a plank and xenophobic, but not homophobic. She's definitely into maleShep, but more into the idea of him as a sole survivor/war hero/butcher of Torfan than an actual person.

Garrus: He likes turian and quarian women. And both fem and maleShep. But with maleShep, he's more busy with the whole "flirt him to death" aspect of their bromance, so there's really no time to get on the floor and get dirty.

I also feel that turian society in the game is very patriarchal, so Garrus has a bias towards femShep and feels less restricted by her rank. With mShep, I think he would have only acted if mShep had specifically pursued that relationship. But mShep is also more interested in just flirting with Garrus.

Kaidan: Canonically bisexual (more into women) and demi. Not into aliens, but not xenophobic. Not a stranger to casual sex, but would really prefer to go steady because #introverted and has enough problems already. "How can you flirt with all these people, Shepard, it's exhausting…"

Liara: She's into both versions of Shepard. And maybe a bit into one drell. Classic demi/asexual. Also, imo, all asari are agender and Liara is not an exception.

Tali: Is a mess and can definitely go cross-species (her romance with Garrus is canon, after all). She's also a massive nerd and a bit kinky. I think she's into human/turian/quarian males, but maybe this femShep really is THAT SPECIAL.

Wrex: Krogan women - that's his sexual orientation. Real bros with mShep, more cautious with femShep because bias. Another "married to his job" character.

Joker: Straight and nerdy. #Irony. Too cool for homophobia.

Chakwas: More married to her job than anyone on this list. Cool lesbian aunt.

And this post is already so long that I'll make a separate one for ME2 and 3.

[bldhrry]

A Court of Passion and Daydreams

Chapter Twelve | Cornelia Street Azriel x OC!Reader Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Series Masterlist | General Masterlist

word count: 8.3k

warnings: blood, smut (18+, minors DNI), cursing, death

author's note: next chapter will be the last part of this series! i've had so much fun writing this n thank u guys for the likes, reblogs, n comments; it's meant a lot to me 🩷🩷 i will def still be writing when this series is done so stay tuned for that :P

Azriel was having a hard time waking up.  His eyes felt like they were glued shut and his attempts to open them failed each time.  His body felt heavy and he knew he was bruised everywhere; his muscles and bones hurt and his head throbbed and he could feel and hear his heartbeat throughout his entire body.

He could also hear muffled noises around him.  He couldn't make it out but it was loud and nearby and his heart began to race thinking of all the possible things it could be.  Was he in a fight?  Was his court being killed?  And what about Celestia; was she facing the wrath of the King?

He felt himself being shaken and someone yelling at him and he finally was able to open his eyes slightly, the act itself causing him immense pain.  The face before him was Cassian; he looked horrible with bloodshot eyes and a look on his face that was pure pain.

“Azriel!”  Cassian shook him again so hard his entire body jerked side to side.

Azriel blinked up at him, unable to move or speak.  His hearing was returning and the muffled noise around him was screaming.  He tried to turn his head towards the noise but he grimaced at the pain and instead looked back at Cassian with a confused expression.

“You need to wake up brother.”  He sounded desperate and his voice was cracking.

He felt a slight pressure on his arm and when he glanced down he saw Elain and Lucien, both on their knees looking at him.  They both looked like Cassian; red, puffy eyes and they also had smoke on their faces and clothes like they'd been in a fire.

Elain squeezed his arm and bit her lip, tearing streaking her cheek.  “Azriel,” her voice broke.  “You need to get up.  We have to leave.”

He, again, looked at her confused.  Where was Celestia?  Why was everyone but her here?

He mustered the courage to fight through the pain and slowly turned his head towards the screaming and right beside him was Rhysand, on his knees holding something—no, someone.  He was holding them to his chest, sobbing and rocking back and forth, unintelligible words leaving his mouth.  The body was limp and blood covered them and Rhysand.  Feyre, Nesta, and Amren sat around Rhysand, the look on their faces were difficult to look at.  Pain, despair, grief, and sadness floated in their eyes and Nesta’s body was shaking with sobs.

Rhysand pulled the body from his chest, cupping the person’s cheek and let out a wail.  “Celestia,” he moaned her name, pressing his forehead against hers.  “Wake up.”  He clutched her body again and let out a sob so broken that the entire group also let out a sob.

Realization hit Azriel and he gasped, jerking back.  

The last thing he remembered was seeing the dagger and looking at her.  How was it possible that their roles had been reversed?  His eyes looked over her mangled body and he became sick, vomiting all over himself and Cassian.  Cassian was barely phased, his attention on the scenM in front of him.

Azriel made a move to get up but he stumbled and Elain, Lucien, and Cassian held him down.  He struggled against them, his eyes never leaving Celestia’s body.  He searched for the bond, trying to reach her, but he couldn't find it.  He began to panic; where was it?  Azriel was growing frustrated from all the questions he had and the lack of answers.

He tried the bond again, searching for its golden thread but he found nothing, just a dark and empty space.

He choked out a sound that was a mixture of a sob and a gasp and the rest of the group looked at him.  Their faces held pity but he saw anger flash throughout Rhysand’s features as he rocked Celestia back and forth.

“What happened?”  Azriel asked.

The second Celestia hit the floor, Rhysand was at her side shaking her, begging her to wake up.  This had to be some sort of sick nightmare.  There was no way she had given her life for Azriel's.  There was no way she was dead.

He alternated between shaking her and holding her, crying into her neck.  His sister was unrecognizable; her body was a mangled mess of blood and broken bones and he couldn't even think of where to begin to fix her.  The group's powers combined wouldn't be able to help her and he knew the only group of people who could would be the High Lords but they were too far away and he wasn't sure he could convince them all to save her.

Feyre knelt beside him and squeezed his shoulder but he barely registered her presence.  He was too consumed by his grief.  His beautiful baby sister was lifeless as he rocked her back and forth like a babe, like he'd done so many years ago when she first came to Windhaven.  The same baby sister who would dance with him by putting her feet on his and laughing as he twirled around the ballroom.  The same baby sister who would cry when he left for training until he begrudgingly allowed her to come.  The same baby sister who would sneak in his bed, crying from a nightmare, seeking his comfort.  The memories made him howl, the entire castle shaking and the group was silent; nobody knew what to say or do.

Azriel had woken up by this point and he had figured out she was dead, but not how it had happened.  When Rhysand looked at him he was angry; this was his fault.  Had he stayed away she would have never known they were mates and she would never have felt this obligation to him.  He clutched Celestia closer to him, shutting his eyes, his body racking with his cries and pleas to the Mother for his sister’s return.

It was Amren who spoke after minutes of silence.  Her voice was soft and quiet, trying not to cry again.  “The cauldron,” she started and cleared her throat, “we can put her in the cauldron.”

The entire group looked at her in shock.  

“We don't know what will happen if we do.”  Nesta snapped.  Her best friend was dead and she was so angry she was shaking.

“I know.  But it's worth a try.”  Amren looked at her friend and shed a tear.  

Rhysand looked between Amren and his sister.  The cauldron was unpredictable and anything could happen to her if she went in, but Nesta and Elain had been Made and nothing bad had happened to them, but then again one of the Human Queens had become a withering hag.  On the other hand, the cauldron had reacted positively to the Archeron sisters and Amren, allowing them to move it across the room and almost out of the castle.

He nodded slowly, brushing a curl away from Celestia's face.  “Okay,” he got up, cradling her body against him.  Without another word he sprinted out of the room.

The sisters and Amren followed, leaving Azriel, Lucien, and Cassian behind and Azriel called out to Celestia, not knowing or caring who else to speak to.  

He still couldn't make sense of it.  He was supposed to be dead but instead the light and love of his life, his mate was dead.

Lucien and Cassian gave him an empathetic look and helped him up.  They weren't going to tell him what had transpired, not yet at least.  So, instead they helped Azriel out of the throne room and towards where the rest of the group had gone.

Azriel sucked in a breath as they exited the room.  He saw all the charred and burned bodies and the two halves of the King that were on opposite sides of the room.  He took note of the broken windows and burned furniture and he shuddered in Cassian and Lucien's grasp.  

The cauldron had moved to its original place in the room and its insides still bubbled and simmered.  The group made their way slowly towards it with Rhysand leading them.  He clutched Celestia and prayed that this would work.  He had other people in his family, in his support system, but despite having a mate his sister was unlike anyone in the group.  She had always marched to her beat and had an infectious laugh.  Her jokes never missed and she cared more than anyone on the planet, knowing how you were feeling before you even knew.  He cried as he neared the cauldron; this had to work.

Amren let out a shaky breath and looked inside of it.  The cauldron was calm now and she had a good feeling that it would show mercy on her.  They were not using it for nefarious reasons.  They didn't want to take power from it; they simply wanted to bring their friend back.

“So what do we do?”  Elain asked softly.  She loved Celestia.  She was the only person to give her space when she was Made and was able to bring her out of her shell through helping her garden and bake.  She loved their piano lessons and talks about nothing in particular.  Sure they weren't as close as the other members of the Inner Court, but she cherished her nonetheless and her death left a hole in her heart.

“We put her in.”  Nesta’s face was hard and though she had been crying, the rage she felt inside overtook her sadness.

Rhysand swallowed and nodded, going up the stairs.  He held Celestia’s body over the cauldron and he closed his eyes and prayed to the cauldron.

Bring her back to us whole and we will take no more from you.

And then he placed her inside and watched as she sank.

Celestia was swimming.  The water was not too hot but not too cold, it was exactly how she liked it.  She loved swimming; it was her favorite thing to do as a child and then one of the only things she did when she lived at the Summer Court.  There was something about the tranquility and silence it brought to her body that made her feel at home.  Her body was always filled with thoughts and emotions and when she was in the water it was the only time when all of that went away and she was just Celestia.

It was dark in the water and she couldn't see ahead of her but it didn't bother her.  She had swam with water wraiths before and if she was able to do that then surely some dark water wasn't going to scare her.  She swam forward, looking around her but she found no vegetation or wildlife.  That was weird.

She stopped and tread the water.  She laughed at the way her hair flowed in her face and tickled her cheeks and much to her surprise she found she could breathe.  She laughed even harder at this; she had always wanted to breathe underwater and it was the one talent that Tarquin and Varian had that she envied.

She twirled and rolled in the water at her new found talent and blew water rings, watching as they floated in front of her.  She couldn't wait to show Azriel.

The thought made her stop.  Where was he?  And now that she thought about it she couldn't remember how she got in the water.  She turned, a puzzled look in her face, and surveyed the water around her.  It was endless and dark and had no indicators of where to go.  Below her was dark and above her she could faintly make out sunlight.  Despite the light, she didn't want to get out yet.  She wanted to explore.

She swam down, curious as to what was at the ocean floor.  The water grew colder and she felt her ears pop with the pressure.  She swam for what felt like forever and still she couldn't see or feel the bottom.  How deep did the ocean go?

She grunted and stopped swimming and looked around her once more.  Everything looked the same: dark water that stretched for miles, a bottomless pit at her feet, and a small light filtering through the waves up top.  Much to her surprise she felt like she hadn't really moved at all.  She figured the sunlight would have moved to some degree as she swam to the left, but it stayed in the same position.  And when she swam down, it seemed that it didn't grow farther away.

As she studied her surroundings, she felt shock waves from her sides and it vibrated through her.  Her breathing quickened and she tried to look for its source but she couldn't find it.  The shock waves grew stronger, tossing her around and she fought against the current.

The shock waves came now with a voice that sounded all around her but also in her head.  

“It’s time to get out!”

Fear struck through her heart.  The voice was loud and raspy, with a twinge of desperation.  She still couldn't find its source and it was scaring her. 

She looked up and the sunlight was still there, bright and clear and inviting.  The voice wasn't coming from there.  She looked down and the expansive but intimidating bottom called out to her.  It wasn't as inviting as the surface but it piqued her interest; she was curious to find out what lay at the bottom.  

The voice and shock waves were coming from her sides and she realized she had two options to escape the voice that yelled at her: swim up and get out or swim down and explore.

She decided to swim down.

She could get out another time.  She just needed to see what was down there and once she did she would come up and tell everybody.  She thought of Azriel again.  Would he want to come with her and see?  She started to feel bad.  What if he wanted to explore with her?  Her gut tried to tug her upwards, the bond flickering slightly and she frowned.  She so desperately wanted to see it. 

“Get out!”  The voice screamed again and the shock waves were so strong now that she was flung through the water and hit something hard.  Her back stung with the pain and she touched behind her; it was cool, rough rock and as she felt it another shock wave rang through her and that's when she realized it was pounding.  There were no shock waves, no, someone was pounding on the wall.  But who was telling her to get out?

“Celestia!”  This voice was different.  It was raspy too but also very broken, like it was exhausted with something she couldn't quite place.  It was also familiar.

A strange feeling made her stomach flip and she felt like she was being watched.  She glanced down and felt the hair rise on the back of her neck and she decided to swim up.  She would get Azriel and they would go together.  

As she swam up, the bond glowed brighter the farther she swam and she realized it wasn't just in her gut like usual.  As she neared the surface, she saw a thread swaying in the water.  It was exactly how she pictured the bond; thin but sturdy and gold with glitter dust falling around it.  She laughed and reached for it.  It was beautiful and as she grabbed on to it to admire it, it yanked her upwards.  

She held onto it and pulled her weight down.  She wasn't done looking at it.  The thread came down with her and she held it in front of her face turning it in her hands.  Yes, this was the bond that existed for Azriel and she blushed, the fire that existed solely for him spreading through her body.  It was the same gold that was speckled throughout his eyes and she sighed at the thought.  She loved his eyes and she wanted to see it again. 

Almost like the bond knew what she wanted, it pulled her up again.  It wasn't as forceful this time so she swam alongside it, holding it gently so it didn't break. She kicked her feet faster and the surface was so close and the sunlight was growing so bright she had to squint her eyes and when she looked at the thread again she realized it wasn't the bond, it was an arm and she was holding its hand.  The arm was decorated with tattoos and the hand was beautiful and delicate as it held hers and she took note of the burn scars that covered it. 

It was Azriel’s hand that held hers and was pulling her out of the water.

She yelped with joy and smiled so wide her teeth showed and her cheeks hurt and she kicked her feet faster, trying to reach the surface and go back to him.  She broke the surface with a gasp at the cold air that attacked her skin and she felt herself being dragged over what felt like the wall inside the water.  She fell to the floor and onto something hard but soft at the same time and very warm.

She hoisted herself up and panted.  She looked around and saw all her friends and the person she was sitting on was Azriel who looked at her with bewildered eyes.

The minute Rhysand put Celestia in the cauldron, Cassian, Lucien and Azriel came into the room.

“No,” Azriel rasped.  “What did you do?”

“It's the only way.”  Rhysand kept his eyes on the water, his voice flat.

Lucien and Cassian dragged Azriel to the cauldron and he peered inside.  The raw power that was emitted from it stung his eyes and he cringed away slightly but at the same time he couldn't make himself look away.

“What happens now?”  Feyre asked, looking at the group.

“We wait,” replied Amren.  Her voice was curt but she was scared.  She didn't know what would happen.  For all she knew Celestia would emerge as a lesser fae or a mortal or not at all.  The thought made her heart sink.  She just might've killed this girl again.

Celestia was in the cauldron for an hour and the group was becoming antsy.  Nesta and Elain had been in for minutes, but again they were tossed out.  While Celestia had been dunked in like they were, she was dead unlike Nesta and Cassian who were alive. Nobody thought it was a good idea to bring her out in case it was too early.

“Fuck it,” Neata grumbled.  She stomped to the cauldron and banged on it, screaming into it.  “It’s time to get out!”  

The group held their breath and waited for something, anything to happen.  When it didn't, Nesta tried again.

She took a deep breath and balled her fists at her sides.  “Get out!”

They waited again and Azriel limped to the cauldron and Nesta supported his weight as he looked inside.  The water wasn't bubbling and simmering like it had before.  It had calmed the moment Celestia went in and had not moved since.

He took a deep breath, wheezing at the pain in his chest and shouted into the water.  “Celestia!”

They waited a couple minutes and when nothing happened everyone released the breath they had been holding.  Everyone knew it; she wasn't going to come out.  They had lost her entirely.

But Rhysand, Nesta, and Azriel held out onto their hope and together they stood at the cauldron's brim waiting for her to come out.

Nobody bothered to say the truth for the wrath those three would inflict would be worse than anything in the world, so they kept quiet, waiting for them to realize the truth.

“Maybe she needs help.”  Azriel muttered after another ten minutes.  “Maybe she doesn't know which way to go.”

Rhysand hummed and nodded, his arms crossed.  He looked at Nesta, the only one out of the group who had experience with it.

“Did you see a way out when you were there?”

She shook her head.  “No.  It was dark and cold.”

Azriel nodded absentmindedly and started to roll his sleeve up.

“What are you doing?”  Cassian was getting up.  There was no way Azriel was going to do what he thought he was going to do.

“I’m going to help her.  She needs to come home.”  

And so Azriel stuck his arm in the water and groaned at the energy that enveloped his arm.  He didn't pull back, instead pushing his arm even further.  He didn't dare rest against the cauldron itself, so Rhysand, Nesta, and Cassian held him back.

It took a couple of minutes until Azriel’s hand was yanked down and he yelped in surprise and let out a crazed laugh.  He pulled his arm up and Cassian, Nesta, and Rhysand pulled him backwards, but then they all lurched forward as Azriel’s hand was pulled downward.

“No, no, no,” he muttered.  

The group held him tighter and waited.  Then there was a tug on his hand and he smiled and slowly he pulled his arm up and the group pulled him back until his elbow emerged, then his forearm, and then his hand and clasped to it was Celestia’s hand, free from blood and cuts and broken bone.  The group gasped and rushed forward, everyone starting to cry. 

Azriel couldn't cry yet.  He needed to see her and then he would.  He would cry and chastise her for doing this, but most of all he would hold her and squeeze her ensuring that she was in fact real and with him again.  

They pulled her out and she fell on top of Azriel and when she lifted herself up she looked at everyone and then at him and gave him the biggest, most beautiful smile he'd ever seen.

There was no time for explanations or celebrations once Celestia emerged from the cauldron.  They needed to get out and do it quickly before anybody came looking for them or saw the massacre in the throne room.

The Archeron sisters and Amren restarted their spells and made another promise to the cauldron that they would not take it and this time the cauldron was cooperative, allowing them to drag it without struggling.  They made it outside of the castle and they winnowed to the House of Wind, where, in the dead of night, they hid the cauldron at the bottom of the library.  With wards and spells he had learned from Helion, Rhysand masked its energy and power and forbade it from moving from where it stood in the shadows.

By the time they made it back to the living room upstairs, Celestia and Azriel had remembered everything.  She remembered the way Azriel’s mangled body was tortured and his throat cut and the way she killed the King and burned his people alive and she remembered the way she put his pieces back together by giving him her body and she remembered the way she died.  Azriel remembered being dragged before the King and thrown about the room and the way his bones cracked and broke and the way the dagger felt cold against his skin as it sliced his neck open and he remembered waking up and seeing Celestia’s lifeless body beside him.

They all sat in silence and Celestia was gripping Azriel’s hand as the rest of the group told him of what she'd done to the throne room. Celestia looked down in shame, but Azriel squeezed her hand in reassurment; he would've done the same thing.

There was no way all of that happened and they both lived to tell the tale.  She looked at Azriel, longing and disbelief dancing in her lilac eyes, and she started to cry.  He looked as beautiful as the moment she lost him and she couldn’t help but trace his features; everything was where it should be.  Azriel hadn’t cried yet, he was still in shock.  She had given her life to him; she had given every perfect part of her to him. She had given him life.

“Why?”  He whispered to her.

“I couldn’t bear you not being here anymore.”  She toyed with his fingers, not meeting his eyes.

“But you died.”

She gave him a sad smile, tears lining her water line.  “I was willing to die for you when I was 22 years old.”  She sniffled.  “I was glad to do it 500 years later.”

And that’s when Azriel started to cry.  And it wasn’t a pretty cry, it was ugly and loud and he could do nothing but bury his head in her neck and hold her.  He bawled and howled at her confession and she cried too, rubbing his back.

She had meant it and she would do it again if she needed to.  She would kill herself over and over and over again to ensure he lived and was happy and at peace even if it wasn’t with her.  He deserved the world and she would carry it and let it crush her.

His sobs rocked through her body and she closed her eyes, gripping his shirt and basking in his scent.  He always smelled like fresh linen like his clothes had just been washed and dried.  She loved it and it made her feel at home and at peace; she had never known anything like it.

Azriel didn’t know what to say.  How could he ever express his gratitude?  How could he ever thank her and repay her?  He didn’t know how and he didn’t think a simple ‘thank you’ and a kiss would suffice for saving his life.  He held on to her for what seemed like hours until he memorized the way she felt in his touch and the way her hair tickled his face and the way she molded into him like she was made perfectly for him.

He pulled away and looked at her and she gave him a small, but very tired smile.  He savored it and the way her eyes had nothing but devotion shining through them.  He relished in the warmth her hands radiated as they held his and when he looked down he saw how their hands fit together, like two perfect pieces of a puzzle.  Hers were devoid of imperfections and his had nothing but imperfections but yet she loved him all the same and so much that she absorbed his pain until it took her and another cry escaped his lips and he couldn’t look her in the eye.

She didn’t say anything.  Not only did she not know what to say, but she was tired.  Her entire body sagged and she couldn’t feel any of her powers.  She was still High Fae, but she was worried that the cauldron took her powers in exchange for her life, but she tried not to let the fear take over.  She had Azriel back and that was all that mattered.

She sent a strong wave of love and gratitude through the bond and he finally looked at her.  Her love consumed his body, making his ears ring and his heart soar.  His shadows circled him slowly and he watched as they moved to her, gliding in and out of her hair and down her arms, twirling around their hands.  She let out a small giggle as they continued to dance on her skin and he huffed a laugh as he too watched it.  He had never seen his shadows leave his body but here they were nuzzling her like they had missed her.

He cupped her face, rubbing her check with her thumb and she sighed as she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes.  Her breathing was heavy and he could sense the sleep that threatened to take her.  He was scared that if she slept she wouldn’t wake up again and as she began to doze off, he gently shook her and she woke up, groggy eyes meeting his.  He sighed in relief and gave her a smile, kissing her forehead.  Despite being unbroken, he was bruised all over and it took everything in him not to cry from the pain, but he couldn’t be selfish; he was alive and if that meant being bruised for the next few weeks he would gladly take it.  He took her head and nodded towards his room, sending an image of them in bed together and she hummed, standing up and grimacing.  She too was bruised all over, but like Azriel she was not going to take it for granted.

The rest of the group had left them hours ago, promising to talk everything over tomorrow.  Rhysand had hugged her the longest, his fingers lost in her hair and his body racked with quiet cries and he held her so tight she felt like she couldn’t breathe but she let him hold her.  The hour without her had been excruciating for Rhysand and his body shook with the fear that the cauldron would not produce her back to how she was before.  If he had to wish just one thing his entire life, it would be for his sister to live by any means necessary.  He pulled back and looked at her, marveling at her beauty and grace and the way life filled her features and he started to cry again, bringing her back into his chest.  She let out a small laugh and pressed herself further into his chest, breathing him in.

Feyre was able to coax him off of her and he wiped his face and gave her a long kiss on her forehead before departing to Madja’s to get Nyx and then to the Manor where he would have a sleepless night worrying about Celestia’s future.

The rest of the group gave her and Azriel hugs and went their own ways, astonished at all the events that transpired but grateful nonetheless.

Celestia and Azriel went to bed, but neither slept.  Instead they laid in bed and stared at each other in silence, sharing small touches and kisses here and there.  They were together and alive and that was all that mattered and that night they made a bargain: we will be together no matter what; for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death do them part.

The next morning everyone convened in the dining room,  Rhysand and Feyre at the head of the table and everyone filling in next to them.  Azriel and Celestia sat next to each other, hands held so tight that part of them feared that their hands would fall off but they couldn’t let go for they feared the moment they did everything would dissolve and it would show itself as a dream with one of them still dead.

Celestia told them of being inside the cauldron and how she swam, but never really moved, and how she only came up because she felt like she was being watched and the yelling was starting to scare her.

Nesta smirked at her.  “You were playing in there for too long.  I was starting to miss you.”  Cassian sucked his teeth at her but Celestia just laughed, everyone relaxing at the sound.

“I was having fun.”  She announced, shrugging.

Azriel tightened his grip on her hand and she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles.  “I really wanted to go to the bottom and see it but I thought about Azriel,” she looked at him and smiled, “and how he would probably want to see it with me.  So I went to go get him and that’s when I came out.  I thought the thread I saw was the bond because it looked exactly how I pictured it and the closer I got the more I felt it in me but when I was being pulled up I saw it was your hand.”  She put her other hand on their intertwined fingers and smiled, tears building her eyes.  “You got me out.”

Azriel bit his lip and swallowed a sob.

“It was different than Nesta and I,” Elain piped up.  “It was cold and angry.  I don’t think it wanted us to be in there.”

Nesta shook her head.  “Definitely not.  It was forced to do that, but you,” she clicked her tongue, “I think it was okay with it because Rhysand asked and promised that it would be the last time.”

Everyone hummed and Celestia just tilted her head  “It wasn’t cold, but it also wasn’t warm.  It was like the beaches at the Summer Court; that’s why I stayed because I like to swim and it felt nice.”

Another hum was heard throughout the group and heads were nodded, primarily from Rhysand.

Azriel’s shadows alternated from moving around Celestia and Azriel and she laughed every time they moved around her neck.  They were so warm and they kept tickling her.  Azriel had never seen anything like it.  They spoke to him and reacted to his mood, but they were playing with her.

“Can you feel your powers?”  Rhysand asked softly.

The room stilled and Celestia regarded Rhysand with an inquisitive stare.  “I don’t know,” she admitted.  She was worried about it, but she felt so tired she hadn’t even thought to think long and hard about it and attempt to reach it.  “I feel the bond, but that’s it.”

“You used so much yesterday, it may take time to come back.”  Amren mused.  “You gave everything to Azriel. I would assume you feel like you got hit with faebane.”

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Celestia’s head and she nodded vigorously.  “I feel exactly like that.”  She remembered the days after she had been hit with the faebane arrow and pursed her lips and spoke again.  “I was really tired after it even with the antidote and I couldn’t do much for a week.”

The hope for the return of his sister’s abilities sparked in Rhysand's chest and he could only pray that it was this exact scenario that led to her diminished powers.

They ate lunch and Azriel and Celestia ate like they’d never eaten before.  She was starving and couldn’t get enough of the ribs and mashed potatoes that the House kept putting in front of her.  She slept for hours after lunch and only woke up to eat dinner.  She devoured three plates of vegetables and roast chicken before sleeping again until late morning the next day.

This was their routine for the following weeks: eating, sleeping, and talking.  Celestia and Azriel felt like their relationship had restarted and they needed to relearn everything about each other all over again.  They hadn’t forgotten anything, but they couldn’t get enough of each other.  They had almost lost one another, so now they vowed to never not see each other, touch each other, or talk to one another.

The news spread fast that Hybern was no longer a threat and the attention was now turned to the Autumn and Spring Courts who had been secretly aligned with Hybern’s interests including Koschei and the Human Queens; Beron was now in control of the alliance which meant he was going to be much more unpredictable than Hybern especially now that the cauldron was missing.

The rest of the High Lords wrote to Rhysand and congratulated him on the King’s demise but Rhysand was quick to correct them and name Celestia as the victor in that endeavor.  Thesan wrote back immediately stating, “I knew that little minx was insane.”  Celestia had laughed when she read it.              

Her powers did restore to their full capacity and she nearly cried when she felt it under her skin, begging to be released and when she did and saw it fill the room she did begin to cry, waking Azriel.

“Look,” she whispered, staring at her dark purple shadows.  The room was humming and the walls were shaking slightly with the amount of energy being released and she laughed as it rushed towards her and enveloped her in a hug and she welcomed the power that radiated through her and made her eyes dark.  Her wings were back too and she flared them during breakfast, earning a mumbled “fuck you” from Cassian and a laugh from Nesta.  

Her and Azriel had fully recovered after a month and went back into the ring for training.  War was coming and they needed to be ready.  Nesta, Emorie, and Gwyn never stopped theirs and while Azriel and Celestia were indisposed, Cassian continued with the three females and Priestesses.  Gwyn frowned when Celestia and Azriel entered the ring, their mating scent bouncing off the walls.

It was months before there were any credible developments in the war until the Winter Solstice dinner at the House of Wind where Rhysand invited Eris.

Eris arrived in regular Autumn Court colors, but he kept it casual like he was visiting friends and not his own secret allies.  The group was tense at dinner, torn between interacting with him and keeping Mor’s history in mind.  Eris didn’t seem to mind the tension as he happily ate his duck and green beans.

“So,” Celestia trailed off, picking at her mashed potatoes, “any news on your father and this whole debacle?”  She quickly put a spoonful in her mouth and looked at Eris.

He sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his wine.  “He’s paranoid about what you all will do with the cauldron.  He has the entire court on lockdown.  I’m only out because he doesn’t know and I have some men loyal to me.”

Celestia just nodded, throwing a quick glance to Rhysand.

Help me out here.  It’s awkward.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and looked at Eris.  “Do you think he’ll attack?”

“You?”  Eris scoffed.  “I doubt it.  He’s not that stupid.”  He tilted his head and looked up, deep in thought.  “But maybe he will.  Right now he’s erratic, trying to show force with the rest of them.”

The group stilled for a moment, the idea of Velaris and the Hewn City being attacked flashing through their minds.  Celestia gripped Azriel’s thigh under the table and he sent a wave of calm through the bond.  We’ll be fine.

“Rhysand tells me you went in the cauldron.”  Eris pointed his fork at Celestia and grinned.

Celestia sent a glare at Rhysand and he gave her an apologetic look.  I have to be honest with him.

“And what about it?”  She raised an eyebrow at him.

He laughed.  “You went in dead and came out alive.  You don’t wonder what that means for you?”

“Not really.”

“Bullshit.”

She clenched her jaw.  She did wonder; actually, she wondered all the time.  The cauldron took mercy on her but why?  She didn’t feel any different so she knew she hadn’t taken anything or been given anything, but she knew there had to have been a catch.  Something had to give for her to be here.

“I don’t think about it because I don’t know.  I died and came back and feel the same as I did before and until something shows me otherwise then I’m not going to worry about it.”  Her tone was sharp, telling him to drop the subject and he did, throwing his hands up.

“I didn’t mean to upset you; it’s just that it’s never happened before.  It made sense for you two,” he pointed to Nesta and Elain who narrowed their eyes at him, “to come out Made, but to go in dead and come back alive without any repercussions is intriguing and alarming and,” he trailed off shrugging.  “I’m just curious.”

Celestia nodded and plopped another spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.  It was a curious thing but she was too scared to ask questions and get answers she wasn’t ready for.

The next night after was the Winter Solstice ball at the Court of Nightmares and Eris accompanied them, standing on the opposite side of Mor who sent everyone death glares.

The Inner Court walked in, Feyre and Rhysand, who was holding Nyx, in the front, Celestia behind them flanked on either side by Azriel and Cassian, and then Nesta, Elain, and Lucien in the back.  There was a slight gasp at the introduction of the heir for nobody had seen him in the two years.  Nyx had grown considerably and unlike the rest of the Court who kept up the facade of being indifferent and cruel, Nyx babbled and laughed and reached for everyone to be held.  Everyone found it difficult to not laugh and reach for him.

Unlike the previous ball where Celestia stood next to the throne, she now stood at the end of the stairs, again flanked by Azriel and Cassian.  Azriel couldn’t help but place his hand at the base of Celestia’s back, ensuring everyone in the room knew he was her mate.  They received stares at the unpredictable pairing; the cherished, but feared Princess of the Night Court and the diabolical and deranged Shadowsinger.  She smirked at the crowd; yes, that was her mate and yes, she was proud of it.

Eris asked for a dance and Celestia obliged and gave Azriel a look when he tried to hold on to her by the back of her dress.

Eris was an incredible dancer.  His movements were fluid and confident and he led her through the dance which was a surprise as she was usually the one to do so.

“You and the Shadowsinger?”  He smirked at her as he twirled her.

She rolled her eyes.  “Yes.  Jealous?”

He scoffed and then looked down at her.  “Yes actually.”

She tripped over her feet slightly and he lifted her up by the small of her back.  “You’re a dick.”

He shrugged.  “Just being honest.”

She scowled at him and then looked over at Azriel whose face said he was thinking of every way he could kill Eris.  She flashed him a smile and sent it through the bond and he relaxed slightly, but hardened his gaze again when Eris did the same.

“Stop pissing him off.”  She snapped.

“It’s fun.  He’s usually so,” he lifted his arm so she could move under it and gripped her waist, “indifferent.”  He murmured the word against her ear and she felt a chill run down her spine.

“Keep this up and the alliance will be over because you'll be fucking dead."

He laughed, making the other dancers turn their heads.  “I'd like to see him try.”

The dance came to an end and they bowed and she shot him glare.  “Mind yourself Eris.  You should be thankful we’re helping you achieve your end.”

“And so should you.”  And with that he left, nearly bumping into Azriel.  He greeted him and stepped around him, heading for the throne where Feyre sat with Nyx and Rhysand leaned against the armrest.

Azriel was quick to sweep her back onto the dance floor as the next song started.  Azriel was a good dancer, nearly as graceful as Eris, but he was aggressive in his hold on her and his steps.

“What did he say?”  He asked through gritted teeth.

“Nothing.”  She replied simply.  “He was just being arrogant.”

He squeezed her waist, nearly making her yelp.  She looked up at him and he wasn’t looking at her but instead behind her at Eris.

“Azriel,” she snaked her hand up to his neck, playing with the collar of his button up.  “You’re hurting me.”

He jolted and let go of her waist and looked down at her, his eyes soft and almost sad.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.  He resumed his position and she leaned against his chest.

She decided to be honest with him and as she rested her head on his chest as she told him of the conversion.  She felt his heart begin to beat in his chest with one angry thump after another. 

“It’s not that big of a deal.  He just wanted to rile you,” he dipped her and he looked down the top of her dress.  “My eyes are up here asshole.”

He laughed and spun her around, her back to his chest and he swayed them for a moment.  “You remember the last time we were here?”

She smiled at the memory, closing her eyes.  “Yes.”

He sent the memory of her dancing with Cassian down the bond and how jealous he was that Cassian had the courage to ask and how beautiful she looked in her dress and how her laugh seemed to light up the room.  He showed her the way she looked at him when they danced together and his heartbreak when she nearly ran away afterwards.  Then he showed her the memory of him watching her walk in front of him and his mental commentary of how good her ass looked in the dress.

She swatted his chest and laughed.  “You’re disgusting.”  

He didn’t respond, instead just giving her a big kiss, his own laugh bubbling in his chest.

The night came to an end and they all departed to their own rooms after scheduling meets with Keir and Eris tomorrow morning.

Upon their arrival to her room, Azriel helped her get her dress off, carefully undoing the ties in the back.  He did it slowly, admiring the way the strings fell and her corset becoming looser and looser.  She was holding her hair up for him, both of them in front of the mirror.  He was watching her as she stared at the floor, her chest rising ever so slightly quicker than normal.  He was at the last tie when he placed a small kiss to her neck and then to the bottom of her ear and she sighed quietly, shutting her eyes.

He grinned against her skin and bit it lightly and she turned her head, giving him more access to her.  Her dress fell at her feet and along with it her corset and with her eyes closed and head resting against his shoulder he admired her.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and his eyes trailed down her body, taking in every scar and stretch mark and mole; her breast were full and round and her waist sloped in and then out, leading to her thighs which were thick and toned and he let his hands wander down to trace her perfections.  She sighed and shifted her hips on to him and he kissed her neck again, moving his hands back up her body.  He held her breast and she arched her neck, silently asking for more.  He smiled and kissed her cheek and then turned her around slowly and kissed her mouth.  Her eyes were dark, her usual lavender eyes, similar now to Rhysand’s violet and he pulled at her bottom lip with his teeth.

He didn’t mean to tease her, but he just wanted to look at her and appreciate her.  They had laid together too many times to count since the night at Hybern’s castle, but he hadn’t taken the time to take in his mate since and allow himself to feel everything he felt for her.  While this did have a sexual energy, it also had an energy of immense devotion and affection.

“You know I love you right?”  He mumbled against her lips.

She opened her eyes slowly and gave him a puzzled look.  “Yes, why?”

He pulled on a curl, his eyes filling with tears.  “I wanted to tell you.  I don’t think I say it enough.  You’ve done more for me than I could ever do for you.”

She gave him a small smile and played with the buttons on his shirt.  “You’ve given me love unlike any I’ve ever experienced or thought I’d experience.”  She lifted her eyes to his.  “That’s enough for me.”

He hummed, his heart growing ten fold.  He kissed her deeply and she opened her mouth for him and he let her swallow his gratitude.  Slowly his clothes came off and they fell on to the bed and she stayed on top of him; they shared kisses and moans and mumbled “I love you’s” until she was riding him, slow and steady, their gaze deep and unwavering.

This time, their sex was different.  Before it was either rushed, or rough, or sensual, but this was passionate and hungry at the same time.  They were chest to chest, her hair creating a shield around his face so she saw nothing but him and he saw nothing but her.  He guided her movements, up and down and up and down, and he ate her moans and she drank his praises until she was gripping the sheets beside his bed and his name was falling from her lips in quiet cries.  She wasn’t the only one who cried out; he groaned her name over and over, telling her he loved her and appreciated her and would do anything for her until nothing but unintelligible mumbles coated her ears and he came with a small roar and she groaned into the mattress.

She whined when he pulled out and she rolled beside him, her head on his shoulder and her leg hiked up on his lower stomach.  He held her knee and they basked in the silence for what seemed like hours until he turned and looked at her.  She was almost asleep when he lifted her chin and her eyes, heavy as ever, looked up at him and she smiled.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

“Hi.”

She sighed and kissed his shoulder and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head, sighing alongside her.

They fell asleep that night holding each other tighter than they had ever before, grateful to be alive and together.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello, make a part 2 of "Outside the Village". Reader encourages to go Donna to a mall. When they get to the shopping mall, Donna is fascinated by how big the building is. Reader said that you can buy so many things here which surprises Donna even more. It felt amazing to her to see such structure Reader thought her how to shop. They even go to the grocery store to find ingredients for Donna to use as recipe. Donna really enjoyed the grocery part. Reader is just happy to see her lover enjoying herself even after what happened to her in the village.

Note: Make it wholesome

Yesss!!! Thank you for you request!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes!!!!

Outside the house

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, BSAA agent! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: 3,529

Summary: It's time for Donna to know more things about the modern world...

N/A: This is a second part of this one!!! Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

It seemed unlikely, and after everything that had happened, you were beginning to doubt that you could actually be calm again. That mission in Eastern Europe was anything but routine and not only did you achieve your goal, but you found something much better, love.

After the former Lord, Donna Beneviento, left everything behind to go with you, your life only got better. You liked the action, but of course anything that involved separating yourself from Donna sounded horrible, so much so that you begged the BSAA to give you a clerical position at their New York headquarters. After all, you were one of the best soldiers. You didn't have to beg too much.

Donna was… Fine, that was the right word. After everything that happened in the village, you couldn't ask for miracles, for her to adapt to the busy life and customs of the modern world, but she tried, she really tried.

Everything you show to Donna was fascinating to her, and also, although she didn't say it, it scared her. Fortunately, having that devilish doll Angie with you made things much easier for her.

“What are you doing, honey?” You asked, leaning on the couch and kissing the brunette's cheek. She was looking at the television screen with a grimace of disgust.

“That guy is... An idiot,” Donna muttered, frowning and pointing at the screen.

You looked at it and laughed amused, jumping off the couch to sit next to her.

“Oh, yeah, well, he’s a politician,” you mumbled. “Generally, politicians are idiots.”

She looked at you and smiled curiously, nodding.

“I prefer Mrs. Moira,” she said, changing the channel, looking for that adorable woman who spent all her time making recipes.

“Yes, yes... But I still haven't seen you make any of her recipes...” You whispered, feigning indifference.

Donna looked at you with an amused expression, and she reached for something between the cushions, pulling it out and showing it to you.

“Look, I've written them all down,” she told you enthusiastically, turning the pages of a small notebook you gave to her. You raised your eyebrows. You never imagined that a notebook with the BSAA seal contained something as innocent as cooking recipes.

“Oh, wow...” You nodded, reading that elegant handwriting. Donna had such a beautiful handwriting, she was beautiful. “I definitely want to try this…”

Donna leaned over to look at the pointed page and smiled tenderly.

“The cake with three chocolates and raspberry filling?” She asked, taking the notebook and reading the ingredients. You nodded profusely.

“I love chocolate,” you commented amused, stealing a quick kiss on her lips, to which Donna laughed shyly. “Do you think you can make it?”

“Of course I can, it's easy,” she replied, sure of herself. She may have been an insecure, shy and sick woman, but certainly, when it came to cooking, she had a lot of confidence.

“Everything seems easy to you,” you sighed, leaning on her shoulder.

“Cooking is easy, you just have to try doing it,” Donna murmured. You separated, feigning a terrible offense.

“Do I notice a certain tone of irony?” You asked with a dark voice. She looked at you and shook her head, with a smile that gave away her true response.

“No, I'm just saying that I've never seen you cook,” Donna murmured, avoiding your gaze. You crossed your arms, frowning.

“As far as I know, yesterday I brought you an exquisite delicacy. Fresh out of the oven… Bar’s oven, of course,” you said shyly, jokingly, giving her a nudge. She sighed with her mouth half open and left the notebook on the couch in a somewhat abrupt manner.

“Do you mean that greasy thing with plastic cheese?” She asked, with a face that told you that perhaps it was not an exquisite delicacy for her.

“People usually call it pizza,” you answered, leaning back on the couch. Donna laughed, offended, but the smile didn’t disappear from her face.

“No, no, no, (Y/N), call it whatever you want, but don't you dare to call it pizza,” she said, emphasizing her annoyance with her hands.

You rolled your eyes and laughed amused.

“Surely you can make a better one, huh?” You ironized, making her face become serious, accepting the challenge.

“Sure,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Well, come on, make it. I'll wait for you here,” you encouraged, pushing Donna off the couch, causing her to almost trip.

“Very well, what do you want?” She asked, crossing her arms and feigning impatience.

“Well, I don't know...” You sighed, also getting up and walking towards the small kitchen. “I'm going to see what's in the refrigerator.”

“Surprise, loser!” Angie doll squealed just as you opened the door.

“Yiahh!” You screamed, closing the door immediately and breathing deeply to calm yourself. “Damn… Angie!”

You opened the refrigerator again and the puppet came out of that place, laughing triumphantly, despite yourself.

“What the hell were you doing in there?” You asked with a growl, humiliated at having been scared by the doll, again.

The puppet jumped into the arms of her owner who looked at her with an annoyed expression.

“Did you see how scared she was, Donna? You've seen?” The doll asked her owner, who couldn't help but laugh at your confused expression.

“Angie...” The brunette sighed, lowering the doll to the floor.

“Oh, well... I guess there's not much to choose from here,” You mumbled, ignoring the incident with the doll and looking at your almost empty refrigerator. “Okay, Donna, I think the pizza will have to wait until we do the shopping.”

“Fine, but don't be late, okay? I don't like being alone,” she said, with a slightly sad tone, with the trembling of her hands revealing her fear of being alone in that place so unknown.

“Did you not hear me? I said, let's do it, I think it could be a good plan for a Saturday, don't you think?” You said, getting a little closer to her and holding her hand so she would stop shaking.

“I... I prefer, I prefer to stay, (Y/N)” she said shyly, moving away from your hold and lowering her head. You sighed and rolled your eyes again, placing your hands on her shoulders.

“Come on, Donna... You have to leave the house,” you said, continuing with your relaxing massage. “Besides, I think you might like to go to the mall.”

“Mall…? What?” She asked, shaking her head and turning around, looking at you curiously.

“Oh, of course, yes, um... Well, it's a building where you can buy everything you want, food, clothes, appliances... It's the paradise of consumerism,”  you explained, amused. Her expression remained the same.

“Consumerism?” She asked, scratching the back of her neck, uncomfortable for not understanding your jokes about modern life.

“Yes, well... You know what? You better see it for yourself,” you said excitedly, placing a strand of black hair behind her ear. She shook her head, but curiosity still dominated her expression. “Plus, it's a good excuse to wear the blouse I bought you.”

“I... Well... I... Okay, (Y/N),” Donna finally said with a somewhat unsure smile. You smiled even more, stealing another kiss from her.

“Don't worry, if you get nervous, afraid, or think you're going to have a crisis, tell me and we'll go home, okay?” You said, cupping her face in your hands as she nodded, still not very convinced by your proposal.

“It's okay...” She sighed, closing her eye to enjoy your caresses and turning away to go to the bedroom and get dressed.

“Yes, Yes! Excursion!” Angie squealed, jumping on the couch excitedly. You growled, ready to put an end to her fun.

“Ah, no, Angie, you're not coming,” you said, pushing the puppet so she fell on the couch. As expected, she didn't react very well.

“What? Why? Why?” Angie asked with a nervous voice, irritating as always, demanding as ever.

“The nice people of New York are not used to seeing living dolls, you understand?” You explained to which her arms shook even more.

“I want to go! Take me to that moll!” She screeched, drawing the attention of Donna, who looked out to listen to the argument.

“Mall, Angie, and no, you're not coming,” you repeated, stopping the doll's attempts to bite you, something she already achieved once. “Donna, say something!”

After struggling with the doll, and dressing yourself too, you went to the car. Poor Donna was scared. Since she arrived to New York she had not left the house. Everything scared and fascinated her at the same time. A feeling that became palpable as you drove.

The brunette looked out the window at those huge buildings, those huge numbers of people walking. All the sounds, everything she saw, heard, was new to her. You didn't want to interrupt her. The truth was that her serene beauty was a sight worth seeing.

“How close we are, idiot?!”

Of course, there was always something that made all those quiet moments disappear. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, narrowing your eyes.

“Angie... Shut up,” you growled. Yes, the doll got her way and would go with you, hidden in a backpack, of course, something that wouldn't be funny. It was like a little revenge you were looking forward to enjoying.

Donna protested putting back on that black blouse you had bought her. She was beautiful with it, she really was.

“What's wrong?” You asked, ignoring the doll's screams and taunts as you did best and learned from your nephews, turning up the volume of the radio.

“These clothes are... Uncomfortable,” Donna said, with a marked accent emphasizing her discomfort.

“Nonsense, you look beautiful, Donna. If they told me I was going to see you wearing jeans, I probably wouldn't believe it,” you joked.

She looked at you and sighed, now playing with the seat belt.

“And this thing is...” She complained, making you laugh, enjoying her innocence.

“That's to save your life,” you explained. She looked at you and nodded, huffing amusedly. “If by chance, that porcelain demon makes me want to crash the car into a tree that would prevent us from flying out.

“Oh, I see,” she murmured, turning to look at the doll, “Angie, please behave.”

After a trip, too long for you, you arrived at the mall. Donna got out of the car with her eye fixed on that huge building. You were trying to put Angie in the backpack.

“Quiet now, huh?” You joked, closing the zipper and leaving that demon locked up, just like you wanted.

“It's… It's… Huge,” Donna murmured, when you approached her, placing the backpack on your shoulders.

“Yes, well, but it's not the biggest mall in the area,” you said, smiling and gently holding her hand to stop it from shaking.

“Are there any bigger ones?” Donna asked, walking slowly towards the entrance.

“Oh, yes,” you said, nodding and entering the building.

Donna's face at that moment was worthy of framing. Her eye widened in surprise and her hands began to sweat. All those stores, all those people. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to bring her with you, or maybe it had, because after a few moments of shock, her face broke into a smile.

“Can you buy things in all those places?” She asked, stopping at each of the shop windows, almost dragging you along in the process.

“Yes,” you said amused, looking at a dress store.

“Look, (Y/N), that dress is beautiful,” Donna told you, pointing to a dark and sad black dress. You faked a shudder. “Can you buy it for me?”

“Do you want to look like Morticia Addams?” You joked, pulling her away from that window.

No, you didn't want everything to go back to the way it was for her. You didn't want black dresses, darkness… You wanted her whole world to be bright, so she could forget everything that happened in the village. A difficult task, but when you saw her face, it didn't seem impossible to you.

“Who?” She asked, surprised. You shook your head, stopping for a moment to kiss her. You couldn't go long without doing it. Her innocent kisses were almost addictive.

“It doesn't matter,” you sighed, letting yourself be carried away again by her enthusiasm towards another window display.

“What is this?” Donna asked, pointing to a video game store.

“Well, it's to play,” you explained, taking a good look at the month's news. You were a soldier, yes, but you were also a big fan of video game consoles.

“Play?” She asked curiously, looking at all those colors and all the signs that said “buy me.”

“Yes, on a TV,” you said amused, to which she nodded, looking around her, observing all those people, all that commotion. “Hey, honey, are you okay? You need a break?” You asked, rubbing her back affectionately. She shook her head and smiled enthusiastically.

“I have never seen anything like this, (Y/N), so many people, so many things to buy...” She sighed melancholy. No, no horrible memories. Out of the corner of your eye you looked at the dress that caught her attention that much.

“Hey, do you still want that dress?” You whispered affectionately. She nodded enthusiastically.

Apart from that black dress, there weren't many other strange purchases.

Donna was fascinated, she asked about everything she saw, she went almost unnoticed among people, exploring that new world, that world that was foreign to her since she was born.

“Hey, let me out, I want to see it too!” Angie protested, with her devilish voice muffled by the fabric of your backpack.

“Okay, and this... is the supermarket,” you said, ignoring the doll's protests and pointing to the entrance to that other temple of unbridled consumerism. “Here you can buy everything, but normally what you buy is food.”

“What kind of food?” Donna asked, looking at the shelves overflowing with fruit in the place. You laughed as you grabbed a shopping cart.

“Well...All the food you want, Donna,” you said, pulling her arm so she wouldn't walk away from you.

“All the food I want?” She asked excitedly, following you slowly, wanting to look at each of the products.

“Yes,” you stated again, pulling her harder. “Hey, honey, don't walk away, okay? In these places to get lost is very easy.”

“I'm sorry,” she apologized, standing next to you with her head down.

"Don't apologize, I myself got lost in a mall when I was 5 years old,” you commented amused, to which she looked at you with a distrustful face.

“Oh, really?” Donna asked. “You seem to know these places well, I find curious that you got lost,” she whispered, without stopping looking everywhere. “Oh, look, there's the... The flour...”

Her shoulders fell when you reached that hallway, where piles and piles of flour seemed to confuse poor Donna, who looked at all those brands and colors a bit scared.

“Didn't you want flour?” You asked, breaking her out of her thoughts. She nodded, blinking repeatedly.

“Yes, yes but... Is all of this flour?” She asked confused, pointing to the shelf.

“Sure,” you said amused, getting a little closer to the products.

“I... I don't know which one to take, there are... There are too many...” She said nervously, putting a hand on her forehead.

“Take any one, like this one,” you said, grabbing a random package and leading Donna out of that overwhelming hallway.

“What now?” Donna asked, looking at the package of flour in the cart. “Have we already bought it?”

“No, no... We still have a lot of shopping to do,” you said, to which she nodded, probably mulling over the whole million different types of flour. “I'll explain how it works. We fill the car with everything we need and then we go to the checkout where some friendly cashiers will tell us how much we have to pay.”

“Oh, okay...” The brunette sighed, nodding, being drawn to a refrigerator that stores fresh herbs of all kinds. “Look, (Y/N), they have everything… Even if it's not season…”

“Hey, Donna, how did you buy the things you needed? You know, in the village,” you asked cautiously. It was true that you didn't want to bring up her past, but there were things you still wanted to know.

“I asked the Duke for them. I gave him the dolls I made and he brought me flour, vegetables... Everything I could need,” she explained, probably not remembering the village in a horrible way, since she was completely distracted by everything she had around.

“I understand,” you sighed interested, nodding as Donna filled the cart with some vegetables.

“But this is... Much better, there is everything here, all the time...” She murmured excitedly, turning to see a shelf that seemed curious to her. “What’s that?”

“Pre-cooked food, my favorite,” you sighed, grabbing her from behind and leaning on her shoulder.

“Pre-cooked?” She asked curiously, observing those boxes of frozen pizza with horror. “I didn't know there were kitchens here.”

“No, no, it's...” You said, shaking your head. “They make them in a factory and then freeze them and bring them here. They don't spoil because they contain a lot of preservatives and artificial things.”

“That doesn't sound healthy,” Donna commented, walking slowly between the freezers.

“It's not, but hey, people are sometimes in a hurry and... It's not bad once in a while...” You said quietly, embarrassed by the truth in her innocent words. Donna laughed sheepishly.

“You just said it was your favorite,” she said in a mocking tone, making you blush. You huffed in defeat.

“Well... The truth is that spicy pepperoni pizza isn't that bad at all,” you murmured, looking away.

“I can make you a better one,” she said determinedly, looking at the strange ingredients in that cardboard box. “Besides, pepperoni is not even Italian, it’s just a crude and aberrant…”

“Shhh,” you said amused, putting a finger between her lips. “Oki gnocchi, Donna, I get it. Pepperoni is wrong, but delicious…”

She smiled with a frown, accepting her indisputable victory with a slightly proud walk.

Little by little, the cart was filled with ingredients, or things that Donna found curious or interesting. The woman was... Happy, excited, fascinated by everything she was discovering. You explained things to her in the funniest way possible, and tried to resolve all of her doubts.

Everything was going perfect. You even already had everything you needed, including the ingredients for that delicious chocolate cake that was to come. You couldn't wait to get home, but as you passed a hallway filled with toys, Donna stopped, walking slowly toward a shelf where there were dolls.

The brunette reached out her hand to take one of them, examining it with a slightly more serious, sad face. All your senses went on alert, even Angie, who had somehow managed to open the zipper, gestured for you to go to her side.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You whispered affectionately in her ear. She sobbed, but nodded, returning the toy to its place.

“Yes, it's just that...”

“You miss your dolls, your home,” you said with a soft voice, speaking for her, expressing the feelings that she didn’t feel able to express. “Do you?”

She nodded, letting herself be embraced by you, with an even more melancholic look.

“All this, this new world is... fascinating, (Y/N), I’m very happy to be here with you, and when you teach me all these things...”

“Mm,” you murmured, letting her speak.

“It's just that sometimes I look back and think, I don't know... I liked making my dolls. It comforted me. It reminded me of my family...”

“Oh,” you sighed, thinking that perhaps her thoughts implied a desire to return to that place. Apparently, that wasn't the case, and you could only be glad for that. “Well, you can continue making them if you want.”

“I don't think I can, (Y/N), I had everything I needed there and...” Donna murmured, shaking her head, something you prevented with another stolen kiss.

“Have you forgotten where we are? Come on, let's pay for the food and get everything you need, okay?”

Donna's eyes widened and she nodded with a tender smile, with that smile that made you fall more and more in love with her.

“Could I really?”

“Of course, in addition, you did an almost masterful job. I’m convinced that you could sell them online and make a lot of money.

“Online?” She asked, confused again. Oh yeah, you hadn't mentioned internet to her yet.

“Yes, well... That requires more than a day of explanation...” You joked, putting your arms around her shoulders.

“Hey, (Y/N), I would like to tell you something,” she said, interrupting your steps. “I love you.”

You smiled when you heard those words in her voice, ones you hadn't heard since that incident in the village. You could only nod, and kiss her again.

“I love you too, Donna. So, so much...” You sighed, to which she smiled happily, truly happy. “Come on, come on, you still have to make me a delicious cake, or a pizza, or both…”

[woman-of-many-fandoms]

Honestly though, it must be so weird to work with some people for a few years of your life and for years, decades, later people are shipping you with your co worker.

I'm obviously all for shipping fictional characters, but this is the actors job. Where they get a paycheck. They are literally being paid to act like found family.

Like imagine you worked in an office with some people for 3 years in 2004-2007 and in 2030 people are making clips of you and how in love you look while eating lunch with Carol or saying hi as you both arrived in the parking lot.

I've seen this in pretty much every fandom I've been in. Star Trek, good omens, X men, Marvel. I do not think RDJ has any emotional attachment to Chris Evens or that Shanter really cared about and enjoyed spending time with Nimoy. I'm positive for David Tennant, Good Omens is just his next job and Michael Sheen only likes it because it made him much more well known in the acting world and it'll be easier to get his next gig. Yes Pine and Quinto look like they are actual friends outside of the movies but that is an exception.

Anyway, just my thoughts since I just saw a post of some Trek actors in I'm assuming the late 80s or 90s and people were saying 'how could he not be bi saying stuff like this'. Money, the answer is always money.

edit: OK let me address some of what is in the comments. Do actors say they are friends, sure, and if you want to take that at face value then you are right, they are friends. I personally don't think it counts if you are being paid to do so. And before anyone says anything, no not directly. But they have a whole 'image' to uphold that their income is tied to.

I don't know much about the entertainment industry and don't know why people would want that life but it's .... well, different, is the nice way to say it. My sister's career is considered part of the entertainment industry though she is behind the scenes. (And, side note, even being behind the scenes I've still found photoshopped images someone made of her in her in sexy lingerie ... )

TBF we don't talk that often but I've heard some stories (apparently Bill Nye is more then a bit of a jerk behind closed doors) She's lived in Hollywood 12 years now and there is the face people put out in the public and who they truly are. Yes, we all have a self that we hide (I'm autistic so I know all about masking) but it seems that is pushed to extremes.

I've seen her act like many people's best friends (house parties and giving favors and gifts that I question) and promoting their good name in public then she'll tell me in private some horrible things that person has done to others and how it's just how it works. She house/cat sat for a guy (and sent me views from his balcony, my god it was nice) who I think a lot of people would recognize from TV but their relationship was built on respect for each other careers.

Sure, you can tell me not to base the examples off my sisters stories and, ok fair. But I'd also want to point out - the part of RDJ buying evens a car, I did some math. He has 300 million net worth according to google. I have a salary, not net worth (or a negative one cause of student loans I guess), but it is the equivalent of me buying my co worker a $32 gift assuming the car was 150k. I met a guy who performed in Vegas shows and told me how they've had dinner with (I honestly don't remember if it was Penn or Teller) at their house with their spouses. And private chats ... doesn't really tell me much.

I'm currently seeing a bunch of clips of the main actors for the new Wicked movie saying how each other changed each others lives and it just comes off as more acting to promote the movie to me.

And even with Pine and Quinto , I only gave that one a pass because they said knew each other and got along before being in Trek and even then, eh..

Again, just how I interpret things. I know friend can mean different things to different people and a lot of what I see I don't interpret as friend, I see it as networking. I would absolutely be 'friends' with someone if it helped me make and maintain my multi millions .

[on-partiality]

Okay, so I'm absolutely curious:

I don't know if you've been asked this already, but how would you rank the Founding Fathers (from the ones you like the most to the ones you really don't)?

Sorry for taking forever I got sick and then I had school camp but here's how I'd rank them:

1, Alexander Hamilton: I've studied him the most out of the main founding fathers so I've grown rather attached to him. I still acknowlege his flaws like the fact that the trading charter he worked for when he was younger also sold slaves, the fact that he was sexist just like the typical 18th century man and that he did cheat on his wife. But even with all of those, he's my favourite of the bunch.

2. James Madison: when creating this tier list type thing I realised that I really don't know much about Madison that's why he's higher in the list (because I've studied him so little compared to the others, I don't know as much about his flaws and problematic actions as I do the rest of the bunch) I've read a lot about him doing silly things and supposedly being a good husband but the fact that he got along so well with Jefferson throws me off because I really don't like Jefferson. So yeah, I'd say I'm pretty neutral with Madison.

3. John Adams: I haven't studied him as much as the other founders (still more than Madison though) so I find it difficult to have too strong an opinion on him. I like his stance on slavery and the fact that he never owned any, however, I don't like his thoughts on women and men without property (and just generally the requirements he wanted to make on who should and shouldn't be allowed to vote) and I don't believe he was a very good father from what I've read about how he treated his oldest son, I also don't like his personality.

4. Benjamin Franklin: I know that no one is going to agree with me on this one but something about him just grosses me out, probably because I'm semi-sex-repulsed and hearing about the way he was with so many women makes me want to gag. Additionally, the comment he made about old women being the same in the dark grossed me out heaps. I get that he technically wasn't that bad and he freed his slaves and invented so many things but his personal life throws m

5. George Washington: Look, he did some HORRIBLE things, he owned many slaves, his treatment of Native Americans was terrible and I completely disagree with most of his political views... But I really like him as a military commander and a soldier and I like his personality a lot and that's why he ranks higher than the next person on this tier list, I don't agree with most of his actions. I don't support racism or genocide. But also I have far more fun studying Washington than I do the next founding father on this list.

6. Thomas Jefferson: child rapist, owned more slaves than any of the other people on this list (I think) and was really weird with his pets. He advocated for religious freedom and he was smart, I'll give him that but I don't like his personality, I don't like his political views and he was very hypocritical. Really, with his views, he wouldn't have even liked himself and he didn't do enough to make me like him. He's still interesting to study but I find it far harder to empathise with him than I do the men listed above because I really just can't see him as anything but vile.

Bonus!: I would put Aaron Burr between Adams and Madison because while I agree with most of his views and he's really fun to study, I like Hamilton a little bit too much to rank the man that killed him higher than 3rd.

(note: I wrote this on like an hour of sleep, this may be the worst amrev take ever)

Edited, 24th of February: Got reminded of this post's existence thanks to a comment by @c0ckmuncher pointing out how inaccurate one of these takes was and checked it again and safe to say I'm never posting anything late night ever again, the rankings have now been changed to better suit what I actually think of these men

[rose-riot-johnson]

Hi my Tumblr Peeps😃 I have been thinking about this for a while and I decided to write a fanfic pertaining a certain character from The Seven Deadly Sins... So, I figured why not try writing a fanfic about Ban, as the staring character🤔💡😃👍 It's honestly not because of a fanfic or 2 of the fanfics pertaining Ban I have rebloged, though I am really inspired to actually write a fanfic about him, when I did (or when I am), however the real reason for writing about him is actually because I'm seeing why people like Ban and The Seven Deadly Sins anime😁👍

*This fanfic contains 1 or more long paragraphs😅

🍓I Loved You, Eversince The First Time I Had Ever Laid Eyes On You🍓(Ban x Female Reader)

Genres: Angst, Comfort, Smut (And sex), and Possible Mutual Confession (Warning +18⚠️: Alcohol Use, Language, Sexual comments, Nudity, mentions of virginity loss, praise kink, and sexual contact (including oral sex (both recieving), ass grabbing, nipple pulling, and vaginal penitration))

When Ban first met you, you were one of the customers of the Boar Hat tavern. He did have a crush on you, however you had a boyfriend, so ofcourse he's not going to overstep your relationship with (character or boyfriend or random name of reader's choice). While your boyfriend at the time seemed nice, considering that he always goes with you, whenever you go there, however Ban couldn't help that something felt off about the boyfriend you were with.

One night when the other sins including, Meliodas went to rest, Ban was the only one who stayed up and filled in for Meliodas, to see, if Boar Hat will have any customers for that night. The next thing that happened was that you showed up, as he assumes you're one of the customers, however the boyfriend you were with never came with you, which made Ban wonder why he didn't come with you, as he always did. Ban was confused as he then said, "I'm surprised you came without this boyfriend of yours. Did something happen for him to be unable to come or do you prefer not to talk about it?".

As Ban decided to let you have, as much as (creamy alcoholic beverage of reader's choice), you feel you needed to have for free, since you come here alot and you asked him for that particular alcoholic beverage you always ordered at Boar Hat, you answered, "Well Ban, between you and me... (character or boyfriend or random name of reader's choice) has been accusing me of cheating on him... You have to believe me when I tell you this... I never cheated on him once... He had always been jealous, I guess... This is why he was going everywhere I went... I did repressed and was deep down in denial that I had a crush on youand despite this, I have never flirted with anyone, especially you, Ban... Unfortunately he caught onthat I've been blushing everytime he mentions about you, even tough he complains that you're in the Boar Hat tavern everytime he and I come there and he just instantly accuses me of cheating on him for you... He thinks having a crush on someone and cheating are the exact same thing... I mean I barely looked at anyone else except him, so I know that I didn't even flirt with anyone else and he still accuses me of the cheating I never committed... It's also unfortunate that earlier this morning, I woke up and I was looking for him, then I found a note saying that I should find another place to live and other horrible stuff he wrote, especially wanting to break up with me, hinting that he wants me to leave the place he and I were living in together and never comeback or else...", as you were trying to hold your emotions in, while drinking your favorite creamy alcoholic beverage. Ban then asked, "Did you take the note with you, if you don't mind me asking, (Female Reader Name)?". You nodded your head, yes before handing the note to him.

While Ban was reading the break up note (character or boyfriend or random name of reader's choice) wrote to you, he has noticed that you were right when you told him that (character or boyfriend or random name), who is now your ex has written horrible stuff and it was much worser than he thought. Ban began to notice that your now ex boyfriend wrote was not only written out of jealousy, however it was also written out of dissing you, especially calling you nasty names in the note and Ban also notices that your now ex has written on how you will never find anyone better than him and he will find someone much better than you even in bed. This has really not only shocked Ban badly, however he felt sad for you, while pissed off for what (character or boyfriend or random name) has written in the note about you.

Ban then decided to invite you to camp out with him in a forest for the rest of the night, since he notices that you're trying to hide the fact your self confidence has been hurt, which you accepted his invite, so he decided to close up Boar Hat for the rest of the night, so he help you with your confidence that your now ex had tooken from you possibly the whole time you were with him (and the break up note made your confidence even worse). Once the both of you picked out a spot in a forest to camp in, he asked, "Why did this guy wrote in the note that you will never find anyone better than him and why the fuck did he write that he will find someone in bed better than you? Don't you think that there's something wrong with him and not you?".

You had to think for a minute about Ban's questions before answering, "I think it's because maybe it's true, considering, everyone I have dated has left me due to me being myself, so I thought trying to change for my now ex would help the relationship I did have with him, however nothing can or ever will change the fact that I'm unlovable... I thought forcing myself to have it with him would make him happier... It's just that I unfortunately had horrible luck at love... I guess whatever he says is true...". Ban was shocked to hear your answer, as he then replied, "I see... Your self-confidence is worse than I thought... Regardless if he was aware of your abandonment issues or not, he is basically a scumbag for everything he has been doing to you... I get you cared for him and all, however I just knew something was off about him, since the first time meeting you and he's wrong for every horrible thing he did and said to you... You're also wrong on something... You're not unlovable... If you don't believe me, I can prove it to you... Forcing yourself to do anything you don't want, especially sexual, is not going to help your well-being... I'm telling you this, because I loved you, eversince the first time I had ever laid eyes on you... I just never said anything earlier, considering I have respect for the relationship you had with him and I definitely have respect for you... Tonight is the night of me giving you any form of intimacy you want... It doesn't have to be sexual, if you don't want... It can be cuddling and other forms of intimacy... However if you want to go sexual then I can do that, only IF you want to...", before he took off his jacket, becoming shirtless. "Well, Ban... I wish I did lose my virginity to you, instead my now ex, honestly... You definitely have alot of respect for me and stuff... You may have a point... I get I maybe rushing things with you, however you are always kind to me, which I always appreciate it...", you replied back before taking your clothes off.

After you took your clothes completely off, Ban blushed and smiled, trying to hide his smile, as he said, "Are you one hundred percent sure you want to have sex with me? I just wanted to makesure before we do this, because you did mention forcing yourself with your now ex when you were with him and as much as I like to have sex with you, I don't want you to force yourself just because of me...". You answered, "I'm sure, Ban... I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't sure... I honestly felt ready... It's just I only have been ready for you...". Once Ban took the hint that you're certain about it, he letted you pull his pants down, as you began to notice his bare hard cock.

The next thing that happened was Ban laid down for you to get on top of him and suck on his cock. Meanwhile he was holding your ass right before eating out your pussy. He knew he would get his enjoyment out of getting his cock sucked on by you and eating your pussy, however he was really surprised to be spoiled and spoiling you, especially like this. After he got done eating your pussy Ban whisperered to you in groans and praised, "I definitely don't know what your ex sees in writing negative stuff about you in the note he wrote for you... You're doing amazing job with sucking on my cock and eating your pussy makes me feel like I'm in heaven... Your ex seriously doesn't know what he's talking about...". Once you got done sucking on his dick, he continued, "If you want, I'm willing to let you ride on this hard cock of mine, that you did an amazing job sucking on, my princess...".

You knew you wanted to try riding on Ban's cock, despite of what your now ex has written about you in the note he has written for you. When you finally start riding on Ban's hard cock, your pussy also began to tighten around his cock. The both of you groaned from the feeling of his cock inside of your pussy. As he was moving his hands from your assto your sides, then your tits, he looked into your eyes, trying to hold his moans (like you're trying to hold your moans), as he cooed and praised, "You're doing amazing riding on my dick, (Female Reader Name)... Your pussy is definitely taking my cock well... Your whole body is nice, just like you in general...". The both of you gave eachother sloppy kisses (trying to quiet down eachother's moans), while he was pulling on your nipples, as you continue to ride on his cock.

After you cummed around Ban's cock and he emptied himself inside of your pussy, you began to lay on top of him and luckily for the both of you, he brought a blanket with him, which that same blanket he brought with him, he had that blanket laying next to both you and him, so he would be able to cover both you and himself up with that blanket. Once he wraps both of his arms around you, he whispered, "We both know I enjoyed what we were doing together... However, did you enjoyed everything we were doing together, my sweet angel?". You smiled at him and replied, "Ofcourse I did, Ban... It's just I also enjoyed your company, honestly...". Ban then smiled at you back, as he replied back, "I enjoy your company too, my strawberry cupcake...", proceeded to hold you tighter before the both of you fell asleep, while snuggling for the rest of the night. After that night the both of you had an official relationship together, since then...

🍓The End🍓

I hope you enjoyed this fanfic my Tumblr Peeps😁👍Anyways my Tumblr Peeps... I did plan on writing a smut fanfic for Ban with writing this fanfic, however I decided to take this Ban smut I have written in a (somewhat if not a completely) different approach, so if there are any errors in grammar or anything else in the fanfic or other parts of this post this fanfic is in, it's more of figuring out ways to write this particular fanfic about Ban😅 I honestly have been secretly keen on him for a while, however recently in my personal life, me being keen on him was no longer a secret, and I haven't talked about my husby as often as I used to in my posts on Tumblr, however he was the 1st person to catch on that I was trying repress the fact I was keen on him, which my husby found cute that Ban is 1 of the characters I'm a fan of, needless to say😅😃👍I just really wanted to give writing a fanfic about Ban, a try😃👍Anyways my Tumblr Peeps, I hope this fanfic makes your day and/or night🌞☀️🌝🌕

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 5 thoughts:

Young lady, is your team about to make a deal with Nazis? What have I told you about making a deal with Nazis? Don't do it! That's what I've told you.

The school meeting was probably the hardest chapter to read so far. Do not want. Give me more horrible cape shit instead.

Also, Alan can die in a fire. Alan can get resurrected and die in another fire. Twice. Alan is absolutely a 3 fire asshole.

So many good wolfspider moments!! AHHHH! Taylor runs into the building to rescue Rachel. Rachel comes back to rescue Taylor. Rachel's dogs defend Taylor when Rachel isn't there. Taylor tells them to stay back so they won't get hurt!! RACHEL GIVES TAYLOR HER JACKET!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Taylor fucking rocked during the whole fight, I couldn't be more proud of her. Figuring out how to deal with Oni Lee, desperately working to save Newter, the shit she pulled on Lung? Beating him a second time? Giving orders to everyone, keeping people focused, and sharing money at the end to earn goodwill? God damn that is some top notch shit.

Seriously, the Oni Lee fight was crazy. That man is scary but Taylor found a way to lock him down.

Coil’s sniper!!!! I had heard about him with no context before, so I got super excited when I realized this was the scene that birthed him! Fuck ya you Clint Barton motherfucker, I love you.

“I made his crotch rot off. Accidentally.” Fucking amazing line.

Holy shit though, she just fucking cut out Lung's eyes without a second thought. God damn. Fuck girl. And you still think you want to be a hero? Child villainy clearly runs in your fucking blood!

It looks like the Nazi survived, that's really too bad.

I love Newter he is fun. Taylor made some comment about him being attractive "if you looked past the odd appearance" and I'm just sitting here going "the odd appearance is what makes him attractive!!"

Labyrinth is super fascinating and I want to know more about her.

Taylor, child, have you put any thought into the fact that you've defeated Lung twice, Oni Lee once, and Bakuda once? That basically the entire leadership of the ABB is going to have it out for you forever? Not that you could have prevented all of that (I mean, if you hadn't blindly attacked Lung on your first outing you could have but we're ignoring that), you had to defend yourself, but are you going to plan for the future? Or just hope that Lung never escapes again and the other two forget you?

Interlude thoughts - There is that unethical parahuman testing I've been waiting for. I knew it had to show up sometime. Why leave all your subjects tattooed though? The people running this are either kinda dumb, or the tattooing thing is part of an elaborate scheme and they want people to look into it. I really hope Gregor the Snail and Newter figure out what they want though.

[rubra-wav]

Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Pentious, Alastor, and Lucifer x a concerningly unstable, younger reader

@pandaquick

A/N : reader is still written to be 18ish

I took creative liberties with this, so I'm sorry if I've taken that a bit in the wrong direction w this one!

The song 'Mama's Boy' came on while I was deciding where I'll take this one and kinda made me start feeling some type of way/lh

You didn't really specify what type of unstable they are, so I went with depression type presentations for that

Cw: SFW, very slight references to past self-destructive behaviour, gn!reader, platonic, hurt/comfort, found family-ish (in all these except for Alastor's)

Charlie

- When you show up at the hotel, she's absolutely elated to have a new resident! Especially one who's new to hell and thus hasn't built up sky-high walls to everyone due to the harsh climate.

- When you disclose why you ended up here, she's utterly horrified.

- The idea someone could be condemned to this place which reeks of burning flesh at all times for something so stupid is truly exasperating.

- She almost has doubt creep into her mind about her dream when she hears the truth about your being in hell, but quickly flips it into positivity as it means you're easy to redeem.

- As you become closer and start opening up after feeling more comfortable, Charlie quickly becomes very concerned for your well-being.

- Sweeps you into her arms while trying (and failing) to not cry as she hears about the kinds of horrible thoughts going on often for you.

- From then on, if she ever notices you becoming withdrawn or particularly sensitive/unstable she will try to convince you to talk it out with her.

- If that's not something you're into? She just tries to distract you and sweep you along with her as she discusses possible activities for the hotel and other random stuff.

- At some point she starts becoming a caretaker to you emotionally and doesn't really even notice herself start to step into essentially becoming motherly towards you.

- She's just really afraid for you at times and wants to take care of you!

- You're also a fair bit younger than the people around you (including her), so even with you being an adult technically yourself she still slips into that kind of attitude.

Vaggie

- When you show up she can tell something is up under everything pretty quickly.

- She's dealt with a fair lot of mental anguish over the years so she can see the cracks in your mental state even before you feel comfortable openly discussing it.

- Will not approach it with you, but will do indirect things for you to try help you practically like making extra food for you as she cooks or reminding you to drink water if those are things you seem to struggling.

- Vaggie isn't the emotionally supportive type, so when she tries to be it seems awkward. She is genuine about it, though.

- Openly face palms when she hears that you got sent here for something so little. 'Classic heaven.' She'd grumble under her breath before apologising for you being sent to hell for something so stupid. (Confusing you and making her start sweating a bit because she's meant to be a demon not an angel-)

- As you start opening up more and more, she becomes even more practical in helping you out upon actually knowing what exactly you need.

- Feels incredibly concerned upon hearing the true extent to your instability and probably has some angst over not being emotionally warm as she would like to be.

- You two bond over mutual terrible experiences, and she essentially becomes a mentor-like figure to you.

- This turns more personal, though, as Charlie starts mothering you.

- Eventually you're essentially adopted by Vaggie and Charlie - they both work together to try to help you manage stuff and stay stable.

Angel

- Initially he'd be neutral to you most likely, just making the same sarcastic comments (albeit not suggestive. Even he has limits from what he's comfortable doing with his persona)

- When he hears how you got here, he just squints at you with a humourless laugh.

- The idea of someone being mostly non-sinful outside of ONE tiny, idiotic reason ending up in this shithole around people who are horrid abusers, to murderers, to every horrible thing possible is fucked.

- After discovering this, he'd be slightly inclined to be protective of you. Only slightly though initially. He can hardly support himself with his own baggage.

- This changes, though, after he learns of your history of self destruction and overall fragility as a demon.

- It's hard for him. He sees so much of himself in you - especially after just getting to hell.

- Despite his more logical thoughts of not trying to care for you, he does genuinely become extremely protective.

- You're the exact type of person who would be taken advantage of here, and he just wouldn't be able to sleep at night if he didn't even try to divert that from happening.

- He's not really the emotional support type, but he'd try to take your mind off of things with other activities. (Watch this man stumble trying to figure out age-appropriate activities for someone he sees as a kid in comparison to himself even if you're technically a legal adult.)

- In the streets, you have him armed to the teeth next to you at most times. It's funny to think about Angel trying to be scary dog privilege, but he actually is when he wants to be.

- Doesn't mother you or act as a guidance figure to you - god knows he is no good example - but he is gonna take out everyone in this bitch if anything happens to you.

Husk

- The second he meets you, he can see what's going on under everything, but he doesn't approach it at all.

- He's been a bartender collecting sob stories for years. He knows how to spot someone who is cracking under the surface or itching to tell their story or problems.

- He almost feels a prickle of empathy for your situation. Someone so young falling into hell of all places, clearly troubled, is a terrible situation. It's squashed the second he realises that you surely are sinful enough to have ended up here.

- As you reveal that your 'sin' was actually tiny however he curses as he actually now feels bad for you. I mean, come on, you're barely an adult, and you’ve been condemned for your whole afterlife for something so utterly small? He's losing the no heart impression he puts out.

- It scares him a bit honestly, so he avoids you like the plague. He'd rather ignore the pain someone like you being here brings him.

- Unfortunately, that doesn't work out as you come to him after a long day and break down at the counter of his bar. As he offers you an ear, he truly is annoyed at himself.

- Because oh god, he cannot take care of you, but he wants to help you.

- He tries to keep you at arms length as he eventually gives in to his want to try and help you out. Key word: tries.

- He's very rough around the edges in his approach, but he essentially steps in like a kind of really done, grumpy uncle who's always fretting over your wellbeing.

- He hates that he actually gives a shit but he would be incredibly restless if he didn't try to help or make sure you're okay.

- Ironically, he'd be telling you not to drink your problems away. Would be awkwardly giving examples of other coping mechanisms he'd learnt from Charlie's speeches about addiction.

- He's a hypocrite, but he doesn't care. It makes his bitter heart heavy to think of you getting into the vices he uses to cope.

- Also another one who is incredibly protective. Treats you like you're made of glass honestly.

Pentious

- He finds you strange mostly and is probably the most obviously curious out of everyone here about you and how you came to be here.

- Is asking the most questions even if they are tone deaf as it gets. How did you end up here? How did you die? Why are you moderately normal as compared to the other residents? (A comment which gets him a giant 'fuck you' and 'have you looked at yourself?' From everyone else around)

- He prods you into divulging information and is immediately protective of you from the second he learns that not only are you not really a sinner at all, but you are also quite fragile mentally.

- Someone like you should not be allowed to be tainted by hell's climate. He hides it behind him 'looking out for princess Charlie's dream', but he is truly afraid for you, and it's embarrassing to him.

- Is constantly all up in your business and trying to make sure you are well and okay.

- He's so paranoid that you're not alright that checking in on you almost becomes a compulsion for him. You've gotta end up reassuring him that you're just fine and that he doesn't need to be so worried.

- Absolutely a practical caretaker but is also big on physical touch as comfort.

- If you're ever crying or not feeling good, he will get you stuff and then he just straight up wraps his tail around you and pats your hair while telling you it's going to be okay.

- If you're ever out and he's with you, his immediate instinct is to try throw hands with anyone who looks at you mildly wrong. Due to not having his weapons anymore, he gets his ass beat doing this.

- When he's unable to be around you, he's going to have his eggs with you to help you out if you need anything.

- Really does turn into a worried mother over being like a father more than anything.

Alastor

- Unlike the others, he would see you solely as an opportunity.

- There's no cute found-family part here. He will use you.

- It would be so easy to convince you to enter into a deal with him as someone vulnerable and inexperienced with hell. He can see how fragile you are under the surface the second you get to the hotel more then just about everyone there.

- Everyone else would be pulling you away from him because it's so obvious you are nothing but easy pickings for him that it's not even funny.

- Would be very genuinely interested in how someone like you ended up in hell though.

- He got here by murdering and exploiting people in every way possible for his own entertainment. How could someone so seemingly innocent get here?

- Openly laughs when he hears your story of sin. He truly pities you getting sent down into hell with people him.

- You avoid him because you can see his intentions on your own, just as much as the people around you are telling you to stay away.

- He, of course, doesn't let that happen. He just likes to show up and watch you fumble through hell like you're prime entertainment.

- He may sometimes help you, but it's only because he just thinks the sight of you struggling is that pathetic to him.

- It may slowly become more of a fondness for you and your company, but the underlying reason for his kind behaviours to you is nothing good.

- He just wants to own you like an item, see how long it takes for someone so pure as a demon to break, and become just as bad as the rest of them.

Lucifer

- Unlike everyone else who are concerned for you, he sees you and instantly slips into dadTM mode with you, and this only deepens the more he learns about you.

- You almost remind him of how he is with how different you are from all of the other demons, and he feels genuine guilt that someone like you has ended up here.

- If he had never done what he did, you would be up in heaven and not condemned to this hell-hole. He doesn't think you should be down here at all for such a tiny mistake you made in your life.

- When he realises you are also really unstable and vulnerable he's going to be terrified for you.

- Especially with someone like Alastor looming over you at all times.

- He was already getting his shit back together when he began to mend things with Charlie, but he straightens up even more when he meets you and starts growing attached quickly.

- He's initially a bit distant despite his want to try care for you because he's already mending things with Charlie, but Charlie actually encourages him to reach out to you.

- She's essentially your unofficial mum in the hotel, but she's far from perfect at that, so she would like it if he would help however he could.

- Very emotionally supportive with you after he gets to be openly caretaking to you.

- He's still a bit awkward as he's essentially there getting his shit together alongside trying to help you out, but he tries to help wherever he can.

- Will absolutely love it if Charlie, Vaggie, you and him could do activities together for fun.

- He's also scary dog privilege 100%. His worry for you would likely come off as him seeming like he's going to absolutely drop demons and scare the living shit out of them.

Masterlist

[forgottenspring]

Mild rant on Alastor bc I'm tired.

*takes deep breath*

I was going to stay out of this so rip to my inbox.

Does anybody remember the whole ace doxing list on here? The whole discussion of not shipping gay characters with the opposite gender? The rep for pan/bi representation and the steps to do it right? Does anybody remember when ppl on here discussed how aros and aces aren't a part of the queer community bc they're not 'gay enough' in a way? Bc I do. That was about a decade ago. And I remember when Alastor was first introduced in the pilot and ppl not accepting he was aroace back then.

It doesn't matter if Alastor is entirely aroace and if he's capable of dating or not.

What matters is we still have so little ace representation and acceptance, especially aroace rep, that a few years ago when a real person Jaiden Animations came out as aroace, ppl tried to destroy her, bc even with a perfect valid explanation of her just saying aroaces are their own thing and she just doesn't want to date, ppl treated it like she was lying or was trying to sneak into the queer community and was straight or all the other horrible things yall might remember "fans" did to her.

Alastor being aroace isn't about being the rep of "Aroaces can feel attraction!!!" bc be real honest.

How many aroace popular characters can ppl list that a regular person on the street is going to know? Bc I've heard all their arguments to invalidate their representation.

Jughead? Oh you mean Cole Sprouse who made out and got it on with Lili Reinhart playing Betty bc he found her sexy? Oh but in the old comics he's a gay character whose in denial. Yelena Boleva? Who? Oh that woman? She's hot she's just traumatized and needs to find the right person. Charlie Weasley? Oh he was only in the books? He was confirmed as aroace through a passive comment most ppl didn't know about from the author that never used the term? Luffy? You mean one of the most shipped characters in One Piece? No he's just an idiot/childish so he doesn't understand girls are pretty. Caduceus Clay? Sorry I didn't watch Critical Role whose that? Are you sure he's aroace? He feels gay to me.

I can list more ppl, but I'm sure most ppl couldn't.

I remember the whole discussion of the pan/bi representation argument of "Yes! We know pan/bi ppl can date the opposite gender. But straight ppl don't know about pan/bi nearly at all or don't accept it," so showing it as gay, who know the term more, until it's shown clearly the character is queer and not "confused straights" they then can have opposite gender attraction. Bc sooooo many pan/bi characters end up "straight" at the end of their show/book. Bc I remember when ppl refused to accept that Deadpool is pan bc of his wife and started freaking out when he dated a nonbinary person in the comics or helped that one genderqueer person he knew.

Representation is about showing to ppl what they're not understanding about the identity in the plainest sense of the words of the identity, then when there's enough rep to show they're not all the same, then you can have the ones that break the rules.

Alastor whether or not he wants to date doesn't matter. What matters is this whole situation blew out of proportion bc ppl refused to accept that some ppl don't feel comfy shipping him. Bc they see themselves in him and don't want that. BUT! Also ppl under the aro and ace umbrella also have no rep and wanted to see him breaking the stereotype they probs have yelled at them of "You can't have a partner you're aroace I forbid it" and wanted to see thru their own experiences how that would be done.

Here's the problem.... As someone who has read a lot of aroace headcanon fanfics as an aroace....... A lot of ppl who are allo don't realize aroace "crushes" are missing emotions... That's why they're aroace. And they'll write them like they're the same just "muted" or "needs to warm up" kinda thing. Or make the character's love "childish" to explain the lack of romance/sex. Which is messed up. And that's the problem here.

Alastor didn't need to be this blown out of proportion of a situation. The problem is ppl found him sexy and the classic "But aroace hot, they can't be aroace bc why hot?" discussion got brought back up without the gentle post format discussions and instead it was a lot of shippers on tiktok with tiny word counts arguing a complex issue.

Ppl should be allowed to ship whatever (except problematic I know yall too well), especially if they see themselves in the characters and especially if they have the same identity and want to explore that!!

The truth of the matter is this is such a huge issue that just keeps happening bc ppl are too used to fandom queer spheres where ppl already know aroace means "off the table" and so they want to play with qprs or grayromantics/sexuals not knowing what that entails bc there's sooooo lil aroace rep that actually explores being aroace and a lot of ppl don't know the basics, and even how very different aroace "off the table" is when you aren't the classic "uwu I'm just innocent and have no friends or importance to the plot so just ignore me and have me be adopted by one of the main couples as a 'kid' figure."

Not to mention that a lot of ppl still think ace means aroace. That aces can't date bc there's ppl who don't know that romantic and sexual attraction are different!

I'm just.... So tired. So very tired of having ppl shout at me what it means to be aroace and being unable to look up the lil aroace rep we have bc of this issue I've seen a million times is all.

[tgrailwar-zero]

With the match starting, the two fighters lunged at each other, before they both realized that the ground under them had vanished- opening up into a massive, dark pit..

MUSASHI: "Ah."

PRETENDER: "Huh."

BOTH: "Aaaaaaahhhh--!!"

They both fell downwards, before suddenly their fall into a pit transition into falling from the sky.. You watched PRETENDER's cape billow outward as he drifted with the wind, floating away from MUSASHI as she fell straight downwards. She tried to slow her fall, whipping out one of her swords and jamming it into a wall. It scraped into the brick, making a horrible sound.

MUSASHI: "Agh-- no good!"

As she winced at the sound her sword made scraping against the wall, eventually hitting the ground with a less than graceful landing.

The screen flickered, going back to the two Ptolemaic Pharaohs.

CLEOPATRA: "We can't provide much color commentary- that's the job of the pussycat and the priest, but for those new to our Bout, behold! It's gone under some renovations, but the arena once lovingly crafted by Pharaoh Ozymandias, Keeper Ptolemaios, Beastmaster Tezcatlipoca, and Freyr Sigurd is back in full force!"

The Keeper seemed distracted, eyes widening.

PTOLEMAIOS: "That swordsman..."

Cleopatra glanced towards him, before speaking up suddenly.

CLEOPATRA: "Oh? Do you have an eye for our Samurai, Keeper? She's certainly beautiful, but can't hold a candle to me, and I've also heard that she's quite the heartbreaker."

PTOLEMAIOS: "...Mm? Ah, you jest, Pharaoh Cleopatra. And isn't it rather unprofessional to make comments like that about the contestants?"

CLEOPATRA: "Come now, everything I do is professional. Still, let's see if her skills are as refined as her looks!"

The screen flickered back to MUSASHI as she dusted herself off, looking around.

The priest's voice echoed, coming from nowhere in particular.

PRIEST: 'I do apologize, fighters. I forgot to mention that the terrain changes per round. This was once a training simulator for the illustrious Servants of the Sun, after all. It does a surface-level mental scan, and randomly picks locations from the participant's memories to use as a battleground. Also don't dawdle. If things start taking too long, we might have to… give some incentive, let's say.'

MUSASHI: "That's super ominous! And also… tell us these things beforehand! Where are you so I can stab-- ah, I mean, so I can thank you for the advice!"

PRIEST: 'Apologies, did you just say you were going stab me, Miss Zero?'

MUSASHI: "Hm? You're hearing things. Forgetful and mishearing, are you sure you're fit to be doing this job, Father? …Also, is it just me, or did my title get slightly less respectable?"

From where you were, you heard some the muffled sound of crowd laughter- and heard JAGUAR MAN laugh behind you, crossing her arms.

JAGUAR MAN: "She's taking to this pretty well. Sometimes you get good fighters that don't have good 'stage presence', but she's so bold that I think she can handle both. I didn't have much time to sit down and have a meeting about people's 'characters'… she'll just have to improvise. I guess if you want to feed her lines, that works too."

Looking back at the screen, you saw MUSASHI walking down the street, folding her arms.

MUSASHI: "Well, if I were a flouncy nobleman, where would I hide… it seems like this turf was designed from, uh, 'Jeran's mind. Seems pretty dreary. Is this somewhere in Britain? And how big is this arena anyways?"

She trailed off, going quiet. You assumed she was giving you a chance to give some advice.

JAGUAR MAN: "The screen here is locked on situations from your Saber's POV, by the way. Can't have you cheating and rigging the match. Best to take a seat, and think. But keep it quick, that Priest might start pushing buttons if he gets bored, and he's a real fickle one."

Then, the JAGUAR MAN found a seat and sat down, kicking her feet up.

Looking around, you see a few potential paths. Straight onward seemed to lead to a seaport, while heading to the left seemed to lead to an alleyway that was pretty constantly emitting fog. However... to the right, you heard the sound of music.

MUSASHI'S STATS:

(When her Endurance reaches 1, she'll go unconscious! Different choices will have a differing effect on her Endurance!):

ENDURANCE GAUGE: [X/X/X/X/X/X]

MANA CHARGES: [X]