#imminent LOL best tag

[its-leethee]

#AND THE WRITERS POISONED THE FOOD

MK fans are FEASTING

[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!

[ryleigh130]

Hi!! OMG I LOVE your writing sm- it's so cute and your such a good writer 😭❤️

But..if you want to- I have a request

Do you think you could write some angst like Platonic!141 x reader who goes MIA for weeks-( they suddenly go radio silent on the comms and when they check their last known area they find the mic and dog tags, maybe?) And then one of the 141 members just taking a stroll around base runs into the passed out bloody and bruised body of c/n. They just crawled their way back to them lol?(GOD THIS IS SO CRINGY BUT I NEED SOME HURT/COMFORT PLATONIC FICS)

Lost but Found - - ryleigh130

Characters- cap. price, gaz, soap, and ghost Word Count: 1.7k Relationships- platonic!141 & gn! reader Warnings- profanity, gore, death, 3rd person pov, usage of c/n [code name/call sign], usage of y/n [your name], usage of l/n [last name] Note- Thank you so much for the request! I was a little unsure on how/where to take this but I hope you like it nonetheless! <33

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The air was thick with tension as the Task Force 141 prepared for their next mission. [c/n] stood among their comrades, checking their gear one last time before the briefing began. Captain Price stood at the front of the room, his gravelly voice commanding the attention of everyone present.

"We've received intel on a high-value target in the heart of enemy territory. [c/n], you'll be leading the extraction team. It's a routine mission, but stay sharp. We can't afford any mistakes."

[c/n] nodded, their heart pounding with anticipation. They were confident in their abilities, but there was always a lingering sense of uncertainty before heading into the unknown.

The mission started smoothly enough. [c/n]'s team moved through the shadows, swiftly eliminating any threats in their path with relative ease. But as they approached the target's location, things took a turn for the worse.

[c/n] led their team to the south side of the territory as instructed, but before they could settle and prepare for extraction, a squadron of what had to be 50 enemy soldiers rained down on [c/n] and their team.

“It’s an ambush! Everyone take cover! Pick them off the best you can, do NOT let the target get away!” [c/n]’s voice rings through the heavy firing of guns causing the team to fall back and go on defense.

The sudden ambush was a shock to the system, catching [c/n] and the rest of the team off guard. The air crackled with tension as enemy forces swarmed in from all directions, their weapons trained on the small team. [c/n]'s heart raced as adrenaline surged through their veins, their training kicking in as they fought for survival.

Bullets flew, filling the air with deadly intent. [c/n] moved with practiced precision, taking down enemy after enemy, but it was a losing battle. The enemy seemed to have the advantage, their numbers overwhelming the task force's defenses.

Amidst the chaos, [c/n] found themselves separated from the rest of the team. Panic threatened to consume them as they realized the gravity of the situation. Surrounded on all sides, with no backup in sight, [c/n] fought with everything they had, desperation lending strength to their limbs.

But it wasn't enough.

A hail of gunfire echoed in the narrow confines of the battlefield, each shot a reminder of the precariousness of their situation. [c/n]'s movements became more frantic as they dodged incoming fire, their senses heightened in the face of imminent danger.

The last thing [c/n] remembered was the deafening sound of gunfire ringing in their ears, the smell of gunpowder hanging heavy in the air. Then, darkness descended like a suffocating blanket, enveloping them in its embrace.

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"[c/n], come in! [c/n], do you copy?" Soap's voice crackled over the comms, the urgency and worry palpable in every word. After not hearing [c/n]’s affirmation of arriving at the extraction point, the members of the 141 quickly grew worried. Their worry only amplified when their check ups elicit no response from the young soldier. The silence was like an empty void echoing back at them; a mocking reminder of their dire situation.

Panic clawed at Ghost's chest the longer the silence continued, a suffocating grip that threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to call out once again, desperation lacing his words. "[c/n], this is Ghost. Respond, damn it!"

But still, there was nothing. The silence stretched on, an agonizing eternity filled with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. The 141's mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through their heads like shards of shattered glass.

Had [c/n] been captured? Injured? Lost in the chaos of battle? Gaz clenched his fists, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid fire.

"Come on, [y/n]," Gaz muttered under his breath, a fervent prayer to the gods of war. "Don't you dare leave us hanging like this."

But the silence remained, unyielding and absolute. And in that moment, they knew with a sinking heart that their comrade was in grave danger.

“We need to go and find them!” Soap voiced, his tone shaky with clear worry.

“We can’t and you know it Soap, I’m sorry but the mission always comes first. We can’t ignore that, even for the kid.” Price’s strong voice sounds as he authoritatively commands his men. Although they didn’t like it, they all knew he was right and they couldn’t go and find [c/n], at least not until after they successfully completed the mission.

With a new purpose, the team fought with more determination and vigor than ever before. They successfully extracted the target with relative ease, but they still haven't heard from [c/n] or their team which worried them beyond belief. Once they safely situated the target, the 141, consisting of Captain Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, raced towards [c/n]’s last known location.

What they saw shocked them.

Blood covered every inch of the location the team was sent to. Both enemy and allies alike laid dead, bodies still warm, bleeding out. The team split up, quickly scouring the bodies laid before them. They spent what felt like hours looking through the gruesome scene to find their lost teammate but no luck, until suddenly Gaz speaks up,

“Uh guys?” The three whip their heads around to face the young sergeant whose voice shakes with despair. In his hands he holds the dirty, tarnished tags of [y/n] “[c/n]” [l/n].

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Weeks passed with no sign of [c/n]. The 141 was forced to leave the site, even though they longed to search for any other signs of you. The base was consumed by a somber atmosphere as worry gnawed at the hearts of their comrades. Captain Price refused to give up hope, organizing search missions and interrogating captured enemies for any leads.

Soap paced back and forth in the barracks, his mind filled with thoughts of his missing friend. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders. If only he had been there, maybe things would have turned out differently.

A step of heavy footsteps approach Soap and a large, gentle hand finds its place on his shoulder. Turning around, Soap meets Ghost’s tired gaze,

“You’re exhausted Johnny, get some rest. You’re doing them no good by running yourself dry like this.” Soap stubbornly shakes his head,

“"Ye dinnae understand, if ah wis jist there, ah could've…" Ghost holds up his hand effectively shutting Soap up.

“Stop. This is not your fault, there is no way we could’ve predicted this would happen. I miss the kid too, it’s not the same without them but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. We will find them, but we have to keep it together too. For [c/n]” Ghost’s eyes crinkle slightly from under the mask, indicating a smile. Soap smiles back and nods determinedly,

“For [c/n]” The two head off towards the meeting room where the entirety of the base is currently situated in order to find [c/n].

A sense of urgency filled the room as the Task Force mobilized, determined to bring their missing comrade home. Every moment felt like an eternity as they scoured the countryside, following any lead that might lead them to [c/n]

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of [c/n]. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate them all.

But then, just when they were on the brink of losing hope, a miracle occurred.

It was a crisp morning when Gaz decided to take a walk to clear his head. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the landscape. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

His instincts kicked into overdrive as he scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. And then he saw it—a figure stumbling through the trees, bloodied and bruised, but unmistakably alive.

"[y/n]!" Gaz shouted, racing towards them with tears of relief streaming down his face. "What the fuck!"

[c/n] collapsed into Gaz' arms, their body trembling with exhaustion and pain. Gaz held them close, whispering words of comfort as tears of joy mingled with the blood and dirt on their cheeks.

"We thought we lost you," Gaz choked out, his voice thick with emotion. He quickly helped [c/n] get onto theri unsteady feet and led them back towards base.

[c/n] looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of their lips. "Please, you guys have no confidence in me."

As the two of you approached the base soldiers filed out of the barracks to see both [c/n] and Gaz stumble into the small clearing. A sudden shout draws their attention and before they know it, Soap is practically tackling the pair to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

“Laddie, ye're back! Whit the hell happened tae ye?” Before [c/n] could answer, two more pairs of arms joined the hug. [c/n] looks up to see the large figures of Price and Ghost embracing them in shock.

“Funny story actually. I was the last one in the team standing and there were still too many enemies for me to overpower so, I crawled into some kind of animal den. I didn’t come out until I was sure everyone was gone. My radio broke so I couldn't contact you guys, m’sorry.” [c/n] finished their sentence sadly, bowing their head and staring at their feet. A gentle hand lifted [c/n]’s face to meet their eyes. Price stared back with a soft look on his face,

“Kiddo, we’re just glad you’re ok. We’re so, so, so sorry we couldn’t find you.” [c/n] smiled softly, their eyes shown with exhaustion but pride as they embrace the men they consider family,

“It’s okay. I know you guys tried.” The others nodded vigorously causing [c/n] to let out a soft chuckle.

In that moment, as the sun rose higher in the sky, casting its warm embrace over them, they knew that everything would be okay. For they had faced the darkness together and emerged stronger than ever before.

[savoryscribbles]

*＊✿❀ genshin men who don't like talking with an s/o that loves to talk ❀✿＊*

pairings: wanderer(scara), diluc(of mondstat) x gn!reader

tags: fluff, boys who don't like talking but your the ✨exception✨

warnings: none that i can think of! lemme know if i need to add anything!

word count: 156

a/n: based on their voicelines lol. also O: i post things??? this never happens! lololol im sorry, motivation to write rarly comes and always goes D: forgot how much i love and hate formatting lmaoooo

genshin masterlist | general masterlist

wanderer(scara):

“There’s no need to exchange pleasantries. it's rather pathetic to force a conversation just to occupy silence.”

tbh i don't headcanon him actually trying to keep a conversation with you, especially if he doesn't want to.

i think he would rather listen to you talk, your voice is the only one that doesn't give him a headache.

glares at anyone who dares to interrupt you. if you stop talking because you noticed no one was listening to you, he’ll get even angrier. Will pull you aside so he can hear you better.

loves hearing about your day, just don't expect him to respond if you ask him about his.

when he saw you overheard him saying this voiceline to the traveler, he didn't think much of it… until later when you both met under a tree to watch the sunset. He was surprised you didn't imminently start talking his ear off. When he teasingly asked

“why are you so quite today? did i need to take care of anyone haha,” he did not expect you to bring up his conversation with the traveler. wasn't it clear his feelings for you were different?

While he’s not the best at consolation, he will offer you this:

“just because i say something to someone else, does not make it true for you, got that darling?”

diluc(of mondstat):

“diluc, of mondstat. not interested in idle chit-chat. if you have things you want to get done, let me know.”

i'm just imagining you sitting on a bar stool while he washes cups, silently listening to you rambling

also poor donna(no i didn't not have to go into my game just to see how her name was spelled, why would you ever think that?) she’ll try and stop and talk to diluc, only for him to offer one worded replies before purchasing flowers to give to you.

“who are these flowers for diluc?”

“hm? my partner”

everyone in mondstat envies you two, watching you both wander around town while you talk his ear off, and him with a small smile on his face 😍

if you ever overhear his voiceline, he's not afraid to reassure you. unlike scara, is fully willing to admit that he doesn't mind “idle chit-chat” if its with you.

“one of my favorite things is to hear you talk, don’t get it twisted”

[havealotonmymind]

The Ballad of the Blade

Summary: There was power to words. Of that, Laurel always believed.

Upon meeting the Blade of Frontiers, she finally finds a story of valour worth crafting. A 5 + 1 fic where Laurel tries to write five verses to Wyll’s heroic tale and Wyll outshines her with his own.

For Day 1 of @madetobezine's OC x Canon Seasons Ship Week!

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Tav/Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Poetry, Love at First Sight, Eye Trauma, Due to Volo lol, Only a mention though, Romance, Act 1 (Baldur's Gate 3), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Elf Tav (Baldur's Gate), Bard Tav (Baldur's Gate), 5 Times, 5 + 1 Fic

Also on AO3!

Storytelling had always been in Laurel’s blood. Her father often regaled her with his own accounts of how he had bested bandits, foul foes, and once, an evil dragon. He would conjure faint images to accompany these childhood bedtime tales. The memories of heroes who had long since passed on swirled about her head and around her room, much to her delight. It was hard not to dream of crafting her very own tale one day, trusty flute in hand. 

There was power to words. Of that, she always believed. When she came of age, she traveled to the bardic college of New Olamn in Waterdeep. This grand palace of complete bardic knowledge had an oral teaching tradition, though its vast library was certainly nothing to scoff at, either. It held more stories than her father could weave together in a lifetime, and Laurel absorbed them all.

Though many of her peers took up the College of Lore, Laurel had always been drawn to stories of bold heroes and even bolder adventures. The College of Valour was her one true calling, and she would not be denied it.

By the age of twenty, she could recite her people’s poetry back to front and recall all the best epics ever written. A good bard must have a wealth of knowledge to draw from, after all. How was she to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally recreate another bard’s verses without committing all their tales to heart first?

Of course, there were only so many tales she could hear over and over again before she grew bored. Faerûn was a wild and magical place full of stories yet to be told. If she was to make her mark, Laurel knew she must venture out into it.

Her luck was not so gracious. Her trip back to the Gate was thwarted by the sudden appearance of the nautiloid. The hero’s journey over before it even began.

Escaping with several new companions in tow was no easy feat, but one she accomplished with as much grace as one could muster on an organic ship made of guts. With the tadpole threatening to upend her whole world, she and all her new friends had very little time to waste. Laurel would have to set aside her poetry and songwriting for after they were cured.

Enter the Blade of Frontiers, stage right. It took only one princely introduction, a single dashing smile, for her to fall.

Truly, the Blade of Frontiers was a tale she hoped to capture, body and soul. He cut a fine figure and appreciated a good bit of wordplay besides. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for her first bard tale to center on a prolific hero who lived up to his reputation.

The first verse she spun was a poor one:

From death he spun,

By nature true

The boldest Blade

Rapier he drew

Goblins thwarted and mad worgs slain

Through his courage, the Coast heals ‘gain.

Sloppy work. Her teachers would tut at her for such clumsy rhymes. Fresh as a seedling just beginning to sprout, this feeling was something that needed to be tended to with care. Wyll was an easygoing sort who didn’t pay much heed to her flirtations, but she didn’t mind. She wouldn’t force it upon him if he didn’t feel the same.

Besides, with a goblin invasion imminent, it wasn’t exactly the best time to gallivant. Alas, there always seemed to be something.

Fighting side-by-side with him did wonders for her inspiration. Her second verse could do with some work as well:

Twixt grove and camp the Blade patrolled

With vim and vigor, unmasked True Souls

To destroy a cult: the Absolute

Ye harried exiles, take heart, take root,

For when the Blade a-comes to call,

‘Tis fortune abound; thy heart enthralled!

Perhaps she had laid it on a bit thick. His heroics were certainly nothing to scoff at. Demanding that others revere him as she did, however, was a tad on the nose. Still, Laurel didn’t see fit to hide her affections for him. What else could stir the heart more than a touch of hinted romance?

Should her tale ever make it out of her dusty notebook, let the stuffy scholars bicker over her authorial intent. The true romantics would know in their hearts.

The third verse was perhaps the most scathing of his circumstances:

The Blade of Frontiers, a hero most grand

Inspires those ‘round him to take a stand

A-gainst foul villains and gnolls alike

His charm, grace, heroics, all will strike

So selfless is he, the sweet, knightly prince

One look should be enough to convince

A grave price he pays yet wears it well

When patron appears, he damns her to Hell.

Her was viciously underlined. Laurel never wrote at her best when she was upset. The last couplet was particularly awful. She would have to rework the entire thing when she had the time. For now, away in her notebook it went.

The Blade of Frontiers, renowned hero of the Sword Coast, now a devil? The small-minded might sneer at this new reputation. Laurel was not so. If anything, she was more enthusiastic than ever to get his tale down just right.

Her fourth verse was a much shorter one, due to Volo plucking out one of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: the phantom ache where her eye used to be, or her companions’ utter disregard for her feelings. She had trusted Volo despite her fear. Look where that got her. If not for the tadpole in her brain, Laurel would have curled up in a corner of the forest to let the moss overtake her. 

Wyll was the only one in camp that didn’t call her an idiot. Instead, he made an off-colour joke about the two of them being part of an exclusive, one-eyed club. At first, it succeeded in making her laugh, and she was glad for it despite the lingering pain. Then out of nowhere, tears began to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t mean to fluster him with her sudden outpouring, but it couldn’t be helped. Once it started, she hardly had the wherewithal to stop herself.

His strong arms around her were a comfort. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed a hug after everything. It only made her sob harder. He patted her back, muttering much-needed reassurances. So unfailingly kind, her Wyll.

Hers? No. She couldn’t think that. He would have done this for anyone.

Laurel stepped away, excusing herself as she darted back to her tent.

That night, she quickly scribbled out the shortest verse of his tale:

Devil not, the Blade demure

True to his word, his kindness endures.

The night of the tiefling party, she danced and drank and laughed with all the rest. It was refreshing to match her flute to Alfira’s ballads, to marvel at Rolan’s magic show. Her companions and all their guests were a riot of fun. The wine and food were delicious. Spirits ran high.

And yet, this party still felt incomplete. Where had Wyll gone off to?

Noble Blade, where art thou heart?

‘Tis everywhere and yet I start

To ponder if I tell thee true

My heart, I beg, do you love me, too?

Perhaps the worst part about being in love was the yearning. It was agonizing more so than it was encouraging. She had to get this feeling off her chest or she was bound to erupt.

Laurel smoothed out her long turquoise hair as best she could in her state. Never mind that Wyll had seen her utterly disheveled and covered in viscera before.

She found him standing alone by the lake, staring off into the horizon. Laurel had never seen him so melancholy before. Every day, he had a smile ready and unfaltering courage to spare.

This was a part of him she hadn’t seen. A part she suspected he didn’t let anyone see.

It occurred to her that Wyll might not need a grand epic of his sweeping good deeds. Perhaps, as all true heroes did, he merely needed a friend to lean on. For someone to understand. That always seemed to be at the core of her father’s tales. Perhaps it was time she learned something from them.

Laurel tapped him on the shoulder, smiling faintly when he turned to meet her eyes.

“Agh, hells. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

“Of course I noticed,” she said, daring to take a small step closer. “It was no party without you.”

He had helped to free the Coast of another evil. Why shouldn’t he join in the revelry?

It was a beautiful spring night. The scent of lavender and freshly overturned soil swirled in the air above the salty muck of the lake beside them.

“Really? I’m honoured. In truth, I don’t feel in a festive mood, and I didn’t want to cast a grey cloud over the night.”

He had resigned himself to his new devil visage wholeheartedly, taking others’ opinions much too close to heart. After saving the grove from an entire army charging down their front doors, why did he still think himself unwanted? It made her blood boil. Was The Blade of Frontiers nothing more to these people than a symbol to be discarded once he served his use?

“You don’t unsettle me, you know that.”

Plain, honest, true. And he thought her a saint for it.

“If only half the world had half the heart that you do. But off with you. This is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.”

Another gentle refusal. His constant self-sacrifice was infuriating. Wyll deserved to be looked after, too. He deserved kindness and love and just as much forgiveness as he gave to others, but couldn’t accept for himself.

“I want to dance with you.”

This made him laugh and she felt vindicated that he was dropping his guard at last. They talked about well into the night about life in the city. He revealed his own love for dancing, even tossing her a compliment or two on her figure and form. If she was a bit more sober, the compliments alone would have sustained her. It was only after engaging in a bit of banter did her courage decide to rear its head up.

Just as he tried to usher her back to the party once more, Laurel said, “If not a dance, then maybe a kiss.”

Bold, entirely without poetry or romance. Just a dainty question practically thrown his way.

Wyll chuckled, though not without malice. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But just the one.”

Oh. Oh, he accepted.

Laurel took an uneasy step towards him, studying how the torchlight flickered along his dark skin. He sucked in a breath like he was preparing to dive into the lake before him.

Her lips brushed against his and Laurel nearly keeled over. Her head spun. Her heart raced. It was lovely and far, far too short. A mere peck. Still, it made her incredibly happy, and really, what more could she ask for from him?

Laurel smiled and it was as though she had unlocked another secret part of him. Wyll’s own smile was far softer than she expected and he looked away. “Ah, that smile—it could light up a room. Hells, it could light up the entire Bay of Balduran.”

All her previous, secret efforts done away with two lines. And they didn’t even rhyme.

She wanted to tell him everything there and then: her feelings, the fact that she’d been outlining verse after verse of their journey together. Buried in the dizziness of her mind laid the beginnings of a tune, slow at first with whispering notes like rainfall, then growing lighter like the sun after the rain. 

Laurel had been so focused on the verses that she forgot to come up with the melody.

Wyll set a strong hand on her shoulder. “There will be another time for us.”

She hoped that was true. She hoped that time would come soon. What a joy it would be to have space to rest at last. To put her own feelings on the forefront and simply…fall in love. Hold hands. Hells, to have enough time for a single dance.

Laurel placed a hand over her lips with a faint smile. “I’m sure there will be. Good night, Wyll.”

Her head was abuzz with more than just alcohol as she wandered back to the dwindling party. Most of the tieflings had wandered back to the grove for one last night. Some still tried to stoke the fires of those remaining, but it was clear from the pockets of quiet that it wasn’t working.

Laurel bid everyone good night as she made her way to her tent, or more importantly, her notebook. One last drunken stanza managed to scribble its way out before she fell prey to dreams of him:

A stolen kiss by lakeside light

Another time to take my flight.

To you, the Blade, I dedicate

My time, my heart, to shatter fate.

[thesungod]

https://www.tumblr.com/thesungod/716135176237957120/httpswwwtumblrcomthesungod716124275151667200?source=share

WOW thank you so much!! No you didn't overwhelm me don't worry 😭 or if you did, not in a negative way at all. Thank you for reccing so many good fics, I've started one already and I love it so far

And yes I would love jasico fics! (As long as it's no trouble 😭)

sorry this is late anon! i’m sure you’ve blocked all my solangelo book tags, but let’s just say it’s been a hectic couple of days😭

let’s talk about jasicosss:

you kinda need to read Homebound. It’s 800k and pretty much considered the Jasico Bible and Canon-after-BoO by shippers. It’s the sloweeeeest burn, post-canon, them becoming best friends and falling in love through 90 chapters.

if the length scares you, i have some other stuff!!

Operation Blue Bananas by amperstellar is one of my favourites EVER. It’s about Jason having the biggest crush on Nico post-BoO (so it’s about canon lol) and asking Percy to help him win Nico over. They concoct very stupid plans. It’s hilarious and lighthearted and love exists.

No More Heroes by nikkiRA is the first Jasico fic I’ve ever read and it still holds up as one of my faves. Years after BoO, Nico starts crashing on Jason’s couch anytime he doesn’t know where to go or he’s injured. You can guess what happens next. Beautiful, sweet, love exists. Also by nikkiRA, Wingman. It’s about Jason trying to set up dates for Nico but then getting too jealous and messing them up💀

Years we lost by MermaidMarie is a super underrated one. It’s actually set years post ToA. Nico finds Jason in a cafè and he remembers nothing of his previous life, but Nico simply can’t lose him again so he helps him remember. The journey is so so so painful, but so rewarding. This fic changed my life.

North by aelescribe is about them falling in Tartarus together. Yesssss.

The Emotion and The Response and its little sequel by Betsib are lovely!! Another post-BoO get together fic. A lot of other stuff by Betsib too!! For instance, Black Coffee and Dead People is an amazing AU. Jason is investigating a serial killer and Nico is the coroner. So good. But there are others!!

(i love it when we’re) cruising together by ohmygodwhy is about them doing a road trip post-BoO so that Nico can visit Venice without the threat of imminent death again. They fall in love in the process. Lol. It’s fucking fantastic. Also, read anything Jasico by ohmygodwhy.

it was you who held me under by thelittleone. oh shit. oh shit. basically it’s a mortal AU where Jason and Nico were together, broke up, and meet again a couple of years later. so so so so good.

These are the ones I remember now. I hope you like them anon, enjoy ❤️❤️

[theelvenhaven]

Protective Ecthelion

Request: Protective Ecthelion as a request!!!! He’d make such a great protector high key— And plus I bet it feels heavenly to be in his strong arms 😍 He’d make you feel so safe, you’re his baby lol. 

A/N: Absolutely! I was happy to do this for you! I hope you enjoy anon! :)

* * * 

⫸ Ecthelion is a very responsible and logical elf, always unafraid to take charge and make sure things go smoothly and accordingly.

⫸ Everything he does is methodically planned out and Ecthelion isn’t afraid to shoulder any extra responsibility especially when that responsibility pertains to you.

⫸ You’ll find that despite all the logical things he does, when it comes to you, Ecthelion is pretty protective over you. 

⫸ Even if it might be illogical, considering you live in a very comfortable and safe space such as Gondolin. 

⫸ But before Gondolin, Ecthelion worried constantly about you going off and doing things without him, as he feared that something bad would happen to you.

⫸ So Ecthelion, not taking no for an answer, taught you how to both wield a knife and a sword.

⫸ Sword first seeing as he wanted you to be able to fight off opponents that might be bigger and more scary than you would even want to try and imagine- like Orcs in the event you run into them on your outings outside of Nevrast.

⫸ When Ecthelion was able to go with you ever was he on watch, listening to everything attentively, watching your surroundings and keeping close to you so he could be right there to keep you safe.

⫸ Though there have been times the two of you have gotten caught in an attack, and Ecthelion was quick to step in front of you and shield you from the harm that was coming right at you both.

⫸ It took him no time to dispatch those who intended to harm you, before he brought you into his arms in the aftermath to hold you close and console you.

⫸ When you two get to Gondolin, despite it’s safety Ecthelion still worries on occasion that something bad could happen to you despite knowing that you are safe and sound in it’s walls. 

⫸ He knows it is illogical, but he doesn’t relent on those feelings, simply masking them from any prying eyes and keeping it to himself.

⫸ Ecthelion, because he’s so protective over you, doesn’t do well with the rumors or ill spoken words aimed at you even if they seem harmful. 

⫸ First he will try and get to the bottom of these things and find out whose been saying such crushing words. 

⫸ He grows very stern as he hears these things from others no responsible for starting them, and advises them that it would be in their best interest to refrain from continuing to spread such lies and rumors to be hateful.

⫸ It’s not often that Ecthelion gets so stern, so when he does its enough to keep wagging tongues stilled and not keep on their gossiping.

⫸ When he finds the person that has been causing all the trouble, Ecthelion makes sure to reprimand them strongly with the promise of exposing them would be imminent if they refused to stop.

⫸ He’s an ellon true to his word and is happy to dole out his threat the moment it is broken.

⫸ You’ll always be safe and protected when you are with Ecthelion, no matter what it is that you might facing; whether it’s an orc or the ill words.

* * *

 Tags: @saviorsong​ @lilmelily​ @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101​ @celebrimbor-telperinquar​ @red-riding​ @miriel-estelwen​ @ta-ka-shi-ma​ @nerdysimpy​ @thegirlwithoutaname87​ @anunexpectedsideblog​ @spidergirla5​ @eunoiaastralwings​ @eternalabysss​ @noldorinpainter​

[ladyvaderpixetc]

Rules: List the First Line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by @theangrykimchi *SMOOOOOOCH* because she's a) lovely and b) I swear, even if it's only subconsciously, trying to tether me to thorki to make sure I don't FULLY backpedal into AE, but I promise bb, I am capable of more than fixating on One True Pairing at a time ;)

“Maybe we should talk to the town elders, I said. Maybe it’ll be best to honour their ways if we mean to secure a trade deal with them, I said. Nooo, you said. I know someone who owes me a favour. Someone who would be more than happy to help us with everything we need, you said….”

2. Loki capered down the stairs with joy surging through his veins, trying like hell to keep his excitement from his face.

3. “Don’t let go!” Loki hissed through his clenched teeth, watching the tree unfurl with relief weighing so heavily on him that he nearly tumbled to the ground, Thor’s hand his only anchor.

4. The club was a fluttering mass of pink, purple, and blue, and Thor almost rolled his eyes at it, grudgingly grateful that the lighting wasn’t all rainbows at least.

5. Loki practically skipped back to his apartment, ignoring his burning feet and aching back.

6. Thor had been holding a polite smile in place for so long that it felt like his teeth and cheekbones were about to shatter and hit the floor in shards.

7. Loki shuffled in place, cursing his long legs as the bench in front tried to invert his kneecaps for him even as his own seat seemed intent on making him numb from the asscheeks down.

8. Loki swayed with the motion of the carriage and sighed.

9. This was his father’s revenge; Loki was sure of it.

10. Laufey froze, echoes of his name still ringing in the crisp night air.

What are my patterns? lol aside from a clear leaning towards human AU's (7 human au's, 1 vamp/werewolf, 2 post-Rag canon-based ignoring IW natch) I appear to favour Loki's POV and either write him grumpy or practically walking on air when he thinks he's imminently about to get a) railed b) his own way or c) both, whereas I appear to write Thor tolerant if longsuffering if only because he's about to get everything he wants by giving Loki A, B & C, hell everything up to Z etc because the bone-deep devotion is eternal *nodnod* so yeah lol no real surprises there ;)

Am tagging @roosterbox @lolahardy @angrymadsygin @deinvatiwrites @strangegeology @thesaltofcarthage @midnottart @dls-ao3 @gracerene @tamat9 and anyone who sees this and fancies a crack at it, basically ;)

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Shostakovich-Sollertinsky letter translations- 1

Hello everyone!

so, some of you expressed interest in me sharing my translations of the letters from Dmitri Shostakovich to Ivan Sollertinsky, so I thought I’d start sharing them here! They range from 1927 to 1944 so I’m not going to Dracula Daily it and send them in real time lol, but I think I can do one a day. I’m not a native or fluent Russian speaker; just an intermediate-level learner, so while I’ve translated these to the best of my ability, I may miss out on some cultural and linguistic nuances. I researched and tried to translate idioms and cultural references as best as I could, but at the end of the day, please keep in mind my translations aren’t perfect. In addition to the published Russian letters, which my translations are based on, there’s a German-language translation that’s been published, so if you happen to speak German or Russian, I would highly recommend checking those out. I will also include footnotes as they appear in the published book when relevant, as well as some historical context from my own research when applicable. Because the first letter is very short, I will start today with the first two letters. These posts will be tagged #sollertinsky letters.

For context, Dmitri Shostakovich formally met Ivan Sollertinsky in 1927 at the home of the conductor Nikolai Malko. Sollertinsky would go on to be one of Shostakovich’s closest friends, until his untimely death in 1944 from heart complications. This first letter is undated:

"I have urgent business for you. Call me when you have 15-20 minutes to talk to me. D. Shostakovich."

Footnote- Written on the front side of the card- "Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich, 9 Marat Street, apartment 7. Telephone 496-37." Obviously, the composer wrote the note without knowing where Sollertinsky's house was. As it is only addressed "to you" (translation note: the formal form of “you," вы, which is used mainly for acquaintances and superiors, rather than the informal “ты,” which is used for close friends), this was likely the first letter from Shostakovich to Sollertinsky.

Letter 2- 20th August 1927, Detskoe Selo

My dear Ivan Ivanovich, I was extremely happy to receive your postcard. In such a small space, you combine so many needed considerations and witticisms that I am amazed. I did not write to you because I was in a bad mood. The Muzsektor [Music Sector] sent me only 500 rubles the day before yesterday for my loyal sentiments. Due to this, my mood improved, and I decided to write to you. Tomorrow I'm going to Moscow. The Muzsektor sent me a telegram for a demonstration of my revolutionary music. On my return, I will write of my summer adventures in detail. I recently received a letter from Malko, in which he warns me of an imminent break with him and, like Chamberlain [1], accuses me of such a break. Progress is being made on "The Nose," as well as my German. In my next letter, probably by Wednesday, I will begin with the words "mein lieber Iwan Iwanowitsch." Your D. Shostakovich.

1- “Chamberlain” refers to Chamberlain Ostin, a British statesman. (Footnote)

Translation note- It’s unknown how much time passed between this letter and the last one, but here, Shostakovich uses the informal ты. Between this letter and the last one, he and Sollertinsky drank a Bruderschaft, a drinking ceremony performed to commemorate friendship and switching from the formal to informal address.

Context note for letter 2- at this point, Shostakovich briefly tried to teach Sollertinsky piano, and Sollertinsky- a polyglot who spoke over 20 languages- tried to teach him German. Neither learned much.

[turboacek-blog]

Naruto Ultimate Ninja Storm Connections Roster Guesses

So they already announced Indra and Ashura as new characters for the game

And many speculate that there are going to be more characters to help justify a whole new game as they already did a collection and remaster with Storm 4 Road to Boruto

So these are just my guesses and some are hopes

Past Story mode characters

Adult Konohamaru: He’s already had a basis in storm 4 boruto story mode as he had one combo and a jutsu already programmed

Shikadai: Similar to Konohamaru has a basis, his jutsu would need balancing as its range was huge in the game

Yurui: less likely but falls into that Shikadai camp that he has a model and somewhat useable moveset

Shinobi Striker Characters:

I don't know the ins and outs of how they're connected from a technical aspect but I see a lot of similarities so I think they could “grab” stuff from SS and put it in Storm

Kawaki: the most relevant Boruto character that isn't in the game, and he's even in Shinobi Striker so there's a model out there (I think a lot of the shinobi striker models are similar to the storm models)

Baryon Mode Naruto: another shinobi striker character they can pull stuff from but a new Naruto also feels imminent (may get relegated to an awakening)

Ishiki: last unique shinobi striker character and has ties to the plot and the other characters like Baryon Mode Naruto

My hopes/picks without much backing them up

Shippudden characters

Kurotsuhi and Chojuro: these two could have arguably made the real roster since storm 3, (like we got Kushina and Iruka who have zero to reference), but I think with them being the other two Five Kage in the Boruto Era I think they deserve a roster spot and can have the custom costumes to portray their Shippudden and Boruto outfits (bonus alt skin for Darui being a Kage) plus when they were support characters they have jutsu and part of a combo they had for the support attacks

Some of the past support only characters: this included Kurotsuchi and Chojuro but there were many that got left behind, like the other Kage bodyguards and Shizune Kurenai and Anko, I don't think we're getting all of them but I think if they can make movesets for characters like the jinchuriki these are possible (personal picks of Shizune Kurenai and Anko for more girls)

Zetsu: the last Akatsuki member and I think a movement can be made despite never really fighting lol (I think he's less likely but again if they can make movements for other characters they can for Zetsu plus they had him attack in the Akatsuki Team Ultimate)

Karui and Omoi: they weren't major but they had a role around the same time as characters like Chojuro but I get why they weren't considered, but if more characters I think these could be interesting for more post pain characters another villages and maybe a unique tag team character like kiba with akamaru (plus Karui is the wife of Choji so there's some justification)(And Omoi is Darui’s bodyguard)

Boruto Era characters

I'm admittedly not caught up on Boruto so there's stuff like the Mujina Bandits arc is canon but I don't see it get talked about in comparison to Kara stuff so I won't get everybody from Boruto that might make sense

Chocho: if Shikadai gets in Chocho should too, she's arguably more important since she's Sarada's best friend

Inojin: if the other two get in he should too imo

The other classmates: I don't think all of the other 12 named characters will get in but they have some basis thanks to anime fillers and such, but of the ones I would pick : Sumire, Iwabe, and Metal Lee (Metal could lowley be a skin for pre time skip Lee)

Mirai: I think she's a unique character that can be a mix of Asuma and Kurenai and for game story purposes the baby that Kurenai had grown up when we get to Boruto time makes sense (if Kurenai gets a spot she should too)

Other villages “kids”: so there's a lot they interact with I’ll just list the ones I want: Ku, Kagura, and Shinki (plus more if able like Yodo, Araki, Tenka triplets, new seven ninja swordsmen, etc)

Kara characters: I don't know who but I guess Delta Jigen and Koji Kashin (Ishiki and Kawaki already above) (maybe skin for Jiraiya)

So yeah 6 I think have a real chance

Plus around 20 with some reasoning behind them

People speculate it'll be about 15 characters added so my guess for those:

Indra

Ashura

Kawaki

Konohamaru

Ishiki

Shikadai

Yurui

Baryon Mode Naruto

Chocho

Inojin

Delta

Kaji Koshin

Jigen

Kurotsuchi

Chojuro

[pepperpixel]

sky children of the light sketch dump!!! because... i started playing it yesterday.. and i love it... immaculate vibes. so i wanted to draw some stuff from it..

[exeggcute]

gonna be a pessimist for a second but I honestly think some of these posts about how all this is spelling out "the beginning of the end" for tumblr are missing the bigger picture. partly (and here comes a fleeting moment of optimism) because I actually do not think this signals any kind of imminent "end" for tumblr specifically—even in a worst-case scenario where these new rules don't change, iOS users should be able to bypass 95% of the restrictions by using a (non-safari?) web browser instead of the mobile app. you can still look at the #girl tag—but more than that, because I think this is way less about tumblr at all than it is about the how the internet as a whole is getting choked to death by a variety of (mostly corporate) forces.

like, I don't think tumblr is gonna become literally unusable sooner than any other social media site is gonna become unusable, but I also don't think "the entire internet is a heavily sanitized hyper-monetized, desolate wasteland that everybody hates" is all that far off. if anything it's been happening for a long, long time now, and so if this is your first taste of the digital walls closing in then I (gently) encourage you take this a wake-up call to learn more about the way digital technologies are evolving and who controls the internet and what exactly is at stake for all the players in this big stupid game!

and the way the internet's evolved in recent years and the evolutionary pressures driving these changes are part of a whole other Big Fucking Thing that I could go on and on about at length but you do not want me to get into that unless you wanna learn all about the intricacies of supply-side advertising lol. this is actually something I spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about, thanks to both my line of work and the kinds of shit I've been reading voraciously since I was like twelve. but I don't think you need to fully grasp the way that, idk, engagement-based profit models work to notice how basically every website these days has an infinite scrolling interface (and that these things, like so many others, are innately connected).

I actually don't know where I'm going with this lol. ironically, tumblr itself is probably not the best place to even have these conversations because I feel like everyone on twitter these days spends all their time bemoaning so-called "web3" and how it's gonna be a fucking nightmare for everyone who isn't a member of jack dorsey's pilates class and meanwhile on tumblr people are posting about like, supernatural, I guess. but if you're really fired up about this and feel like you've been blindsided by an internet that suddenly feels hostile, it's not just you. and it's certainly not just tumblr. go pop onto the homepage of wired.com every now and then and read a couple articles. (use an incognito tab if you run out of free ones, lol.) follow cory doctorow and some open-source guys with beards on twitter. keep an ear out for shit. this isn't the first time shit like this has happened (to any website you use regularly, not even tumblr specifically), and it's certainly not gonna be the last...

[cowboy-turtle]

Show Me

Part 9 of the La Parca series

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Words: 6.8k

Tags: Smut: semi-public sex, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), disrespect of business clothes (lol), tie-yoinking (!!!); food mention; alcohol; brief mention of a minor character death

A/N: Happy holidays everyone! Here's another part I've had percolating for a while, there's nothing I want to do more when I see Javi in a suit than to yoink his tie in for a kiss. This entire chapter is based off that desire 😌 hope you enjoy!

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

gif by @nicolethered

It happens late one evening. You’re about to call it at night, clicking the last desk lamp off in the study lounge when you’re called into an office instead. Your advisor ushers you to take a seat.

“The committee just ended their meeting,” she tells you and you freeze, unable to sink down into the awaiting armchair.

“And?”

“You’re not supposed to find out until tomorrow but,” she tries to hide a smile, “congratulations.”

You don’t believe her, not at first. She tells you you’ll get the official acceptance letter and all of the corresponding paperwork tomorrow. The work will begin then, along with all the doors you can already feel opening for you, a future uncharted in its potential now. But for tonight, your professor advises, just enjoy the excitement.

“And one more thing,” she adds when you head for the door. “A few of us have been invited to speak with the education board in Bogotá.”

She can’t help the pride that colors her voice. “The committee chair thinks it would be good for you to join us. And I agree.”

You could honestly pull her up into a hug right now but opt instead for an exuberant confirmation, hastily scrawling this Thursday morning’s train platform number to meet them for the departing journey. It’s the first thing you can’t wait to tell Javi when you’re practically bounding up the steps to your apartment. Can you believe it! your insides scream. Me! I did it!

Not even Trujillo’s tired voice could deter your joyfully overflowing words.

“Can I speak to Ja–Agent Peña?”

“He is unavailable.”

“Okay, when will he be available?”

“He is away on business for the remainder of the week.”

That stops you for only a moment. “Do you know where?”

Trujillo’s sigh crackles across the call. “That’s classified, but I’ll let him know you called when he returns.”

That’s good enough for you, wishing him a good night and running to try and compile the best business outfit from the depths of your closet. You’re at the train station at 08:00AM sharp to meet the rest of the group; the committee chair, your advisor, and another professor quickly greet you before introducing you to the two other students who will be joining you as well. You’re nervously excited at the prospect of hopefully making friends with them, filing into the train after them to their animated whispers.

It’s nice, then, how easily you slip into a rapport with everyone. As the conductor announces your imminent arrival into Bogotá, the conversation switches into the purpose of your visit and what key issues were to be discussed, the mood jovial as everyone agrees easily with which points of topic were most important. It was nice to exist for a moment in this in-between space of the cramped cabin car, to remember that the world kept turning in spite of the pace of violence you were reminded of every time you opened a newspaper.

That feeling stutters slightly in your meeting with the education board, discussing in so many words why more help was needed for children who were at risk of being recruited. Recruited into what you were careful to avoid by name, in case any on the board were sympathetic to the opposing party.

But it all ends well, the lead committee members clapping each other on the back as you make your way to the rented van. They’re buzzing with good energy as they ease into the dance of the capital’s traffic, weaving past speeding motorbikes and hoards of pedestrians on lunch break. You guess that’s why the committee chair is talking animatedly into the portable phone attached to his briefcase, yelling to the driver a moment later to turn around.

“Please,” he insists. “We have another stop!”

The driver squints at him in the rearview mirror, but starts circling the wheel towards the left-turn lane at his request. He passes a paper up to the front with the new address and then announces, “I just heard that we have thirty minutes with the American ambassador.”

He pauses for the various reactions. “The board put in a good word for us, and he wants to meet for a photo op.” He smiles at you then, nodding towards the other students seated to your right. “He’d like to welcome the scholars that will be visiting America next year.”

The group disintegrates into hushed, excited chatter and you lean forwards to address the back of your professor’s headrest.

“Why is this more exciting than meeting the education board? It’s just for a photo.”

She turns towards you and inclines her head towards the man who just spoke. “He sees this as an opportunity to really speak about our issues and concerns.”

You dart a skeptic glance away. “He wants to do that in thirty minutes?”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” she looks at you then. “If they can funnel money and resources into extraditing our youth into their prisons, maybe they can extend some of it to make sure they don’t wind up in those situations in the first place.”

You have to give her that, nodding your head and keeping quiet for the rest of the ride and up the foreboding polished steps of the U.S. embassy.

As your group is being led down the halls to your conference room, double doors in front of you burst open to the sound of hurried footsteps. Two men in business suits emerge in the middle of conversation, speaking rapid-fire English to each other as they near your group. The blonde man you vaguely recall in the back of your mind, but his companion in a navy suit makes your feet lurch into a stumbled recognition.

“Cut the bullshit, Murphy.”

“I’m serious.” This ‘Murphy’ taps the manila folder in his hand against his companion’s chest for emphasis. “They think it’s the biggest safehouse bust we’ve hit this entire year. I can already hear Messina buying us a bottle.”

They reach their crossroads with your group and you can’t stop staring, admiring the proud smile he’s sharing with the floor. If you had any doubt this was him, this closer look all but proves it, the top button of his dress shirt undone even underneath his tie. His pace slows just as yours does, glancing over your shoulder as he almost comes to a stop.

“Where in the hell did you even get this intel?” An oblivious Murphy asks his partner who is no longer in stride with him.

Javier turns around, his unbelieving eyes sparking intrigue into yours. He gives you a once-over then stops, slowly crawling up your conventional heels and pantyhose, taking in the tight curves of your pencil skirt and blouse that’s open enough to show a peek of cleavage, before glancing back up to your face. His eyes darken, thumb brushing against his puckered lower lip and it’s tragic how quickly you could combust from that one look.

“Jav?” Murphy’s reached the end of the corridor, looking towards the enraptured man who takes a step backwards, slowly departing from you.

“I have a little bird,” he responds, smiling at you before turning to catch up to a barely concealed snort.

“Well, they’re one hell of a C.I.”

Before you can watch him leave in hopes of one more glance, your name is called from inside the conference room and you have to rush in, ready for the next serendipitous moment.

After a quick volley of introductions, though, Ambassador Crosby proves to only be a caricature of the smarmy American politician you’ve only seen in cartoons, spewing empty oaths and skin-deep promises. The practiced lines fall easily from his mouth with an insincere sincerity.

“When we say no child left behind, we don’t just mean in America,” he announces with an artificial smile between flashbulbs of the camera. “We want to help raise all the children in the world to become upstanding citizens.”

You and your advisor exchange a glance. She angles herself towards the ambassador.

“Right,” she begins. “So—”

“And the children of Colombia,” he blows out a breath, looking to her, “could really use our help most of all.”

She’s momentarily too stunned to speak, appalled mouth half-open, so he continues.

“I mean, I don’t know if any of you can even imagine the type of violence that happens on your streets. But that’s why we’re here, to help clean up the mess.”

With that, he pats the back of the person to his left, giving a thumbs up to the photographer as he starts departing for the door.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says with thinly veiled relief, “I have a busy afternoon.”

“Wait, sir,” the urgency in the chairman’s voice stills the ambassador as he looks back, the rest of your group looking to him as well. “That’s actually why some of us are here.” His eyes meet yours and a ripple of panic sets in.

“Go on,” he urges, “tell him what happened to your brother.”

In that one moment, it feels like the air’s socked out of your lungs in a gut punch. The idea that the personal information you shared in your interview would stay confidential suddenly felt naive, the airy high-ceilinged room claustrophobic as everyone awaits your response.

Especially the ambassador, who’s now fully turned away from the door to stare at you. “What happened?” he coaxes with a slightly impatient tone.

You search for an out, flickering across the faces of the others as fingernails dig into the clammy palms of your hands. But no one comes to your aid, not even the apologetic frown of your professor barely visible over the resolute stare of the chairman growing colder with each second of your silence.

The ambassador is about to leave when your mouth shoots open.

“Well,” you attempt to harden your voice, but it comes out like a warble. “My brother…was very young when he became involved with narcos. My parents didn’t know…but he did it to help support the family.”

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, dulled from the years you hadn’t talked about him but clawing up now with a vengeance. “His recruiter thought he was trading information with their rivals for more cash, so…”

“They killed him,” the ambassador finishes for you.

“Yes.”

The admission hangs heavy for a moment, then–

“I’m sorry for your loss,” his disingenuous voice offers, “Do you know who did it?”

“I think I do.” You look back over at your advisor, steering this unwanted trip down memory lane back into present day. “That’s why I decided to go into social work. So that kids like him don’t feel helpless enough to resort to that.”

The ambassador nods thoughtfully, then motions to the meeting table. “Why don’t we discuss how we can help? I think I have a few minutes.” He looks to his aide for a quick nod then sits at the head of the table, already engrossed as the chairman launches into a rehearsed routine. Your advisor squeezes the meat of your arm when you sit beside her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “I had no idea he’d—”

“It’s fine.” You glance away from her and towards the other end of the table, where the two other students are whispering together, heads bent until they catch your stare and avert their eyes. They choose not to talk to you when you file out of the conference room together.

The burn of rejection brands deep into your chest, already feeling like you’ve been outcasted before you were given a chance. To think you were wanted here purely based on merit, on the potential of where your future could go and not just from how your past connected to it, made you realize how foolish your wide-eyed optimism was. It didn’t matter if the rest of the world saw people like the chairman and the ambassador as the good guys, they were still going to use you to get what they wanted.

You can’t wait to throw in the towel, not talk to anyone else on the train ride home. That is, until you remember the other chance encounter you had today.

You only have to wait a few moments for the embassy operator to patch your call to him.

“So I’m your little bird, huh?” you smile into the pay phone when he answers.

“Cariño,” Javier murmurs into his receiver. “Are you going to tell me what you were doing in the embassy today?”

You’re calling him from the back hallway of a small restaurant, the rest of the team getting a late afternoon coffee before the train departs.

“It was a part of the research fellowship.” Your newfound shame battles with the excitement still lingering beneath. “I, um, I got it.”

His smile can be felt through the telephone line. “Of course you did, they’d be idiots not to pick you.” You look down to hide the delight creeping on your face, shifting your weight to one heeled foot.

“We should celebrate,” he continues.

“Yeah,” you agree, though you wonder when that might even be, “I’d like that.”

A brief silence falls over the line, but you can just barely gather his quiet breathing to let you know he’s here. He’s with you.

I missed you, you want to whisper, quiet enough that maybe he won’t hear but just enough for it to leave your chest.

“I felt so out of place,” you admit instead. The arch of your foot pangs in agreement after wearing painful heels all day. “I never get dressed up like this.”

“No, you looked…” a short breath, then a lowered voice, “you looked good, cariño.”

Your stomach does a little flip at the slight groan behind his words.

“You didn’t look too shabby yourself, Peña.”

His laugh is interrupted by the automated voice signalling you have thirty seconds left on the call unless more change is added.

“Are you still in Bogotá?” Javier asks suddenly.

“Yes,” you glance at the others around the table. “Our train leaves in an hour.”

“Stay. I’ll take you back.”

“What?”

“Stay for dinner. Can you meet me back at the embassy?”

“I…” you laugh in disbelief. “Sure. Yes, okay.”

“Great. I want you to—”

The rest of his sentence is cut off, a triple toned beep to signal the end of the call before it’s a dead line. But you hang the phone back up smiling, stepping away to alert the group you won’t be leaving with them after all.

When you finally make your way back up those polished steps from before, a majority of the workforce has already left for the day. A night security guard escorts you to a lone receptionist, who takes you to a long, narrow office at the end of a quiet hall. She asks if you need anything before she heads out, but you’re content perusing the space Javier occupies while you wait for him. The bookshelves are bare of any personal trinkets or photographs, the low-lit small room having as much personality as if inhabited by a ghost. The only indicators of his existence here are the crystal decanter set of amber liquid between two beige armchairs, and a lone picture frame underneath his desk lamp.

You sink into his desk chair, leather squeaking under your skirt as you lean for a closer look. It’s a simple black-and-white photo of a young couple standing on a porch with arms around each other’s waists, the woman’s other hand reaching down to hold the pudgy fist of a toddler who’s squinting at the camera from beneath his bowl-cut fringe. Neat handwriting in the bottom right corner inscribes the scene as “Laredo - 1960”. The little boy must be Javier, you realize, though it’s weird to imagine what he must’ve been like as a small child. You wonder what his voice sounded like back then.

“Making yourself comfortable?”

The gravelly, smoke-tinged lull from the doorway is at odds with the cherubic face peering at you. You look up, abandoning this glimpse into his past to appreciate the vision of him now before you. He’s discarded his suit jacket, tie hung loose on his neck and shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, showing enough of his golden skin for you to enjoy as he brings the last of his spent cigarette between his upturned lips.

“Agent Peña,” you greet him with a nod. The last of his smokey exhale stutters out in a chuckle as he nears, snuffing the remains in an ashtray along the way.

“Candy,” he addresses you. He braces his hands against the edge of the desk, leaning down to brazenly crawl his eyes up your body. You shake your head at how unashamed he is, but a shiver still runs up your spine as a smirk quirks a dimple into his cheek. “So nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too.” You tilt your head up in invitation and his lips connect to yours in an instant, a small sigh escaping from your mouth when he pulls away.

“I heard you met with the ambassador,” he says, gaze drawing up from your lips to your eyes. “How did it go?”

You look away before he can catch your grimace and his brows draw together.

“What’s wrong?” he presses, hand skimming over yours.

“It’s just…” Where to even begin? “He didn’t actually listen to us, we were just charity cases to him.”

“I’m sorry.” Javi’s soft, genuine voice tells you he means it. “The guy’s a shithead, he’s a politician. Don’t let him get to you.”

If only it were that easy. The small tremble in your lip betrays you and Javier abandons his post against the desk’s edge, opting to plant a knee on the ground to get eye-level with you. He squeezes your wrist for attention.

“Cariño,” he whispers until you look at him. “Trust me, you don’t need saving.”

His words quiet the storm enough for you to huff a short breath. “No, I don’t.”

He brings your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles as you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he attempts again, “then tell me what you need.”

“I just, I don’t know,” you sigh. “I just need to forget, I need to stop thinking. I need–”

“A distraction?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

“I can do that for you.”

His eyes dip back down for a moment, but when he reaches forward it’s only to grab the folder sitting atop his desk.

“Just let me drop this off first,” he murmurs, “I’ll be right back.”

You nod slowly and stand as he does, watching as he hustles out of the room once more. A sip of something to numb today sounds nice, a small pour into one of his glasses busying your hands and quieting the static in your brain when you take the first gulp. You’re almost finished when he returns, the hand reaching up for his jacket on the coat rack stalling before it goes for the doorknob instead. The soft click of the lock echoes louder in the quiet room before he’s reaching for the remains of your drink you offer to him, finishing it with a tip of his wrist while you squint at him playfully.

“I thought we were leaving?” you ask when he sets the glass down beside you, smoothing his hands up your waist as he crowds you against the desk.

“We will,” he promises quietly, “just let me look at you first.”

You roll your eyes but it doesn’t stop the heat that’s creeping up your chest in time with his hands exploring the curves of your body.

“How could anyone pay attention when you looked like this, cariño?” he groans, gripping the front of your skirt and tugging you towards him. You swallow a gasp at the evidence of his arousal hardening against your thigh. He ducks his head to your neck, lips brushing your hot skin. “All I could think about today was you.”

“Yeah?” is all you can breathlessly manage as his kisses press up towards your jaw.

“Of course,” his breath fans across the shell of your ear. “You look sexy like this.”

Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze against your earlobe and tug gently.

“T-thanks,” you aim to move closer but your feet protest, visibly wincing as you shift your weight. “These heels are killing me though.”

“Oh?” You can feel Javier’s devilish smile as his hands rub over the swell of your ass across the tight fabric of your skirt, stopping at the top of your thighs. “I can fix that.”

He hoists you up onto his desk, your sudden gasp quieted by his chuckle as he steps between the shallow opening of your legs the tight confines of your skirt allow. His fingers slip down the smooth sheen of your nylons, bringing your knee up for him to reach the hard plastic of your high heel. He eases it off, clattering it to the ground before he makes quick work for the other shoe to drop.

This does little to deter the onslaught of his hands rubbing up your legs, teasing your pantyhose against your fevered skin. You can feel the reaction to his touch pooling at your center, and with a sharp breath he brushes a knuckle against it.

“Cariño,” he tuts, pressing in harder, “you’re already ruining these, they’re soaked through.”

“Hm,” is all you can shudder out when his thumb replaces his knuckle, rubbing against your clit. You take a hesitant breath. “Guess I have to get rid of them.”

His hand retreats just enough for a noise of disapproval to sigh out of you, canting your hips for more. He edges to your inner thigh instead, rubbing the sheer fabric of your stockings between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“You don’t need these?” he asks.

You give him a questioning look. “I guess not…?”

You jolt when his hands suddenly grip the material on either side of your pussy, the fabric protesting until he yanks down and apart, ripping them at the seams. He steals your gasp in a quick, consuming kiss.

“Good.”

He tugs the ruins of your hosiery away from the apex of your legs, drawing his hand back inwards when a sharp inhale is sucked through his nose.

“You’re not wearing any underwear?” he growls, his other hand gripping the soft give of your thigh.

“N-no,” you whimper. “Couldn’t wear them without it showing in the skirt.”

He groans, large hand cupping your cunt to press against your slick folds, just enough to make you impulsively grind into the heel of his palm. You can feel his grin on your slackening jaw when you tense around his teasing finger edging you.

“Is this what you need?” he asks and you let out a pitiful whine, chasing his hand with a press forward of your hips when he moves away. You level your gaze with his dark eyes.

“Answer me, cariño.”

Your hand traces up his dress shirt, fingers circling his tie until they close around the fabric just under the knot. You watch his glance dip down to your mouth for just a moment before you’re yanking him forward by his tie, capturing his groan between your lips.

All resolve crumbles after that, his hands tugging your legs further apart to the ripping disapproval of your ruined tights. A finger slips inside you, then two, pushing and curling as he swallows your moans down his tongue licking inside your mouth. You’re fumbling for his belt when he pushes your hands away, gripping the front of your blouse to tug it from your skirt and hoist it over your breasts.

He bends, smothering his face in your chest for a moment to bite the swell of your breast before dropping to his knees, kisses descending down your stomach. You’re fumbling to help him heave your tight pencil skirt any higher, the bite of his impatient nips to your inner thighs trapped in the barrier of shredded nylon still clinging to your skin.

“Javi!” His name flows from your lips in an unknown beg – Javi not here, Javi please faster – but the next mention of his name catches in your throat when his velvet lips meet the soft plush of your exposed skin.

He groans, his grip digging into your inner knees as his tongue licks inside you, your head tipping back as he voices his desire into your cunt. The sound is obscene, his lips smacking as he presses in deeper, his prominent nose grinding your clit with every push and flick of his tongue. The feeling sparks pleasure up through your core, jittering through your trembling legs and making you grasp for the desk’s edge, other hand gripping the soft curls of his hair, mussing up the neat way he styled it for the office. He hums his approval at the way you pull lightly on his hair, guiding his mouth up until his wet lips suction around your clit.

You cry out, hips jutting forward and the vibrations of his response only intensify the feeling coiling deeper and tighter with each sloppy kiss and lick. A quick sound of irritation rumbles in his chest and his hands slide down under your thighs, a quick pull to the edge of the desk for him to dive further into you.

Your toes curl, knee jerking when his fingers push back inside, scissoring and curling and coaxing the jumbling whimpers of his name barely coherent over the sound of his tongue lapping at you. You peer down to see if you can even see him under the confines of your skirt, only to meet his blown-out pupils watching you as his jaw tenses and moves with each pass of his mouth.

It’s the way he moans into you, sucking your clit in between his lips just as his fingertips press into that perfect spot that has you seeing stars, tensing your body up until pleasure explodes in waves through your body. You shake as he works you through it, concentration only slowing as you squeeze the hair threaded through your fingers, whispering a quiet–

“Javi, please.”

He’s up in an instant, slick mouth appeasing your begging lips with desperate kisses as his hands work quickly on his belt. You can feel yourself dripping onto his desk as you tug him closer, closer, his dress pants finally slipping open as he lines himself up to you. He pulls you towards him and you groan in unison, the blunt head pressing into your entrance before his length slides into you in a single, sudden thrust. You clutch at his cheeks, his jaw, his neck when he starts moving, hot breath panting against each other with each push deeper. Everything feels tighter, the ruined seams of your stockings hardly holding together strong enough to fight the way Javier presses into you, until he grips both legs and wrenches them further apart with another satisfying rip of nylon. You cry out, louder this time, and he shushes you with his mouth covering your moans, the thrum of his desperation beating just under the skin barely concealed in the tightening grip of his hands on your thighs.

His tie is quickly flung over his shoulder, dress shirt bunched up to salvage it from the mess you’re now making at the base of him. The wet slap of him meeting you over and over fill the small room of his office, matching the tempo of your whimpers of oh–oh fuck Javi. The air is thick with the smell of your sex, the unforgiving pummel of his hips back and forth, back and forth knocking you further up the desk. He grips you tighter to him, practically hoisting you off the desk to meet the drive of his cock. His belt buckle smacks into the flesh of your ass with each thrust, but the scrape of pain is barely perceived with each yelp of pleasure falling from your lips.

A sweaty curl falls onto Javier’s forehead from his quickly-disheveling hair, matching the unraveling of your own composure as he starts fucking you harder. The creak of his ancient desk threatening to give out under you only adds to how much you’re desperately flirting with danger right now, the evening still early enough for a stray passerby to wander down the hall and hear you.

But that somehow only adds to the frenzied excitement, your bodies working in tandem intuitively, rocking your hips forward in time with his thrusts as you push each other closer to release.

“J-Javi,” you whimper, curling your hand into the nape of his neck.

“Tell me what you need.” The deep register of his voice sends a tremble up your spine. Your eyes cinch shut, a pant of breath barely escaping.

“I need…more.”

With that he reaches behind you and sweeps the contents of his desk, papers scattering to the floor as he pushes you down the cleared desktop. The curve of your neck almost hangs off the edge, threatening to push you even further with each punch of his cock. He tilts your pelvis just so, and with the next thrust his name wails out of your throat. His hand clamps down over your mouth, soft pleading sounds to keep quiet, baby, I know it’s—f-fuck, I know, I know, just like that as your whimpers are caught in the cup of his palm.

You angle your jaw and capture his thumb between your lips, sucking it into your mouth to the deep, guttural groan tumbling from the depth of his throat. He swirls it in time with your insistent tongue and pops it out, a string of saliva following it down as he brings it to press against the peak of your sex. His slick finger flicking across your clit bucks your hips up harder as Javier grips your knee for leverage, hoisting it up until it’s pressed to your chest and kept there by his steady grasp.

“Is this what you needed?” he pants into the crook of your neck, the slap slap slap of him meeting you over and over again just as loud as the moans you’re trying in vain to bite down. “Needed to be fucked so hard you forget your own name?”

A high whine pitches out of your throat, pressure building inside you again and he chuckles lowly.

“Yeah? What’s your fucking name then, baby girl?”

Your head tips back, voice gone no matter how much you pant and gasp and you need him, all of him, your hand snaking to the back of his slacks and squeezing him tighter to you. He’s caught off guard, a quick, stumbling grunt as he stutters inside you and you’re gone, orgasm washing over your body just as he comes undone. You feel the heavy, hot spurt of him deep inside you as you tense and convulse, something akin to a cry escaping your lips when he mouths at the curve of your neck, concealing his own loud, finishing response.

The office quiets to a standstill again, save for your panting breaths fighting for air as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. You card your fingers through his hair once more and he shifts up to look at you, a blissed out grin curving his mouth before he summons enough energy to move up and kiss you, wet mustache tickling against your upper lip. You share another quiet kiss, a thank you in your smile when you both jump at the trill of the phone at the corner of his desk.

Javier groans, easing out of you and leaning to answer it with a haggard expression.

“Peña.”

He says it with such a steeled composure, like he didn’t just fuck your brains out all over his desk, the scattered papers still settling on the carpet beneath you. You watch his face change at the drawl of quick, English words barking out through the receiver.

“Alright Murphy, I get it.” He gives you an exaggerated eye-roll before hanging up. “We’re late to dinner.”

Your tardiness doesn’t stop him from helping you get cleaned up, helping you out of your ripped pantyhose before disappearing to return with a pair of simple flats for you to try on.

“Colleen always keeps them in her drawer,” he explains. “Are they your size?”

You slide them onto your feet and thank whoever this Colleen is, the sensible shoes providing much needed support after wearing your heels all day. You’re impressed he’s noticed such a small action in what you assume is a normally busy office.

“Does anything get past you, Agent Peña?” you ask as he gathers his coat by the door. He gestures to the exit to let you go first, just for his hand to swat playfully at your ass when you pass.

“Only when I want it to,” he smirks, reaching into his coat pocket for a smoke.

Javier walks you to a nearby restaurant, the interior bustling with busy tables until he points out a lone, exasperated man sitting in the back corner.

“Sorry we’re late,” Javier says by means of explanation once you draw near to him. “Messina was on my ass to get that report in tonight.”

The blonde man briefly glances at your wrinkled skirt. “Right.”

Javier pulls a chair over for you, gesturing to the man who’s extending a hand. “This is Steve Murphy, my work partner. And this is—”

“Candy.” You finish for him, catching the look on Javier’s face before he takes his own seat. Though you shake Steve’s hand with a friendly smile, you’re unsure how many personal details you’re ready to share with him. Getting comfortable with one DEA agent was more than enough for you right now.

“Candy? As in the Candy?” Steve’s brows shoot into his hairline as he holds your handshake a moment longer before glancing at Javier. “So you’re the one he won’t shut up about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Javier responds gruffly, but the glare he gives Steve is met with a shit-eating grin.

“Well, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Candy. How did you meet our Javier?”

You exchange a quick glance with Javier, trying to find the right words in English.

“We…like the same song.”

Javier barks out a laugh, failing to conceal it behind a cough as he signals the waiter. Steve peers between the two of you, unsure whether to believe you or not, but is quickly distracted when someone comes by to take your order.

Steve asks you easy questions throughout dinner, the drawl of his voice that of a practiced gentleman with only the hints of an interrogating agent around the edges. He seems comfortable in the presence of a woman, and it’s unsurprising to find his ring finger occupied. When you ask about his wife a warm smile crawls across his face, unbothered by the subtle eye roll from Javier when he starts talking about his marriage. He only deflates when he mentions she’s back in the States now, and you can only imagine how hard that distance might be in the way he sighs.

Javier goes to settle the check as Steve finishes the last of his drink, looking at you over the rim’s edge.

“So, music brought you two together?” he tries again and you shrug, smiling.

“Well, I like dancing.”

“Dancing?” Steve looks up at a returning Javier as he asks. “You ever take your girl dancing, Jav?”

You take Javier’s outstretched hand to help you out of your seat. “Just the kind you’re not good at, Murphy.” His wink is met with a quick middle finger as Steve follows you out on the street.

A slight shiver at the oncoming night’s chill is met with Javier’s jacket gracing your shoulders, a commotion the next street over causing the two agents to slow and listen. They look to one another before stepping towards the noise.

But when they round the corner, it’s not what they would usually suspect. Instead they’re surprised to find a makeshift street band set up on the sidewalk. They're playing in front of the colorful advertisements of a worn-down pharmacy, the neighborhood out on the street dancing and laughing. It feels like you’ve stumbled into a folkloric fairytale, the magic of their bright joy contagious in the bubble they’ve created amidst the stark architecture of the capital city. You watch with amusement on the outskirts of the growing crowd until Steve nudges into Javier, nodding towards the dancing couples.

“C’mon,” he urges, “dance with your lady.”

Javier sends you a questioning glance, and before the offer can even form you’re pulling him out on the street. You loop his arms around you with a laugh and he begrudgingly accepts with a lopsided smirk, muttering how he doesn’t dance. But you’re unsurprised to find him a good dancer with the way his hips move in time with yours, and you tease him as such, squeezing the ticklish spot in his side until he’s chuckling into a smile at you.

A camera shutters to your left and you turn to Steve just as the bulb flashes.

“Never thought I’d see this,” he explains as he cranks the camera roll to the next frame. Javier flips him off and guides you away from the laughing man towards the center of the makeshift dance area.

“Cariño,” Javier murmurs into your ear to grab your attention back towards him. “Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?”

You shake your head and he pulls you closer to him, hand smoothing up your back.

“Stay the night,” he asks. “I have a place here.”

"Really?"

He nods and you seal his offering with a kiss, the crowd erupting around you in cheers at the energetic end of the song. The band bows and sets up for the next arrangement that you don’t stay to hear.

You step into the cool air of Javier’s government-issued apartment once he’s driven you there, taking in the decor you assume some poor secretary was assigned to pick haphazardly.

“So this is Casa de Peña,” you tease, laughing at the photos of two nondescript dogs you know he doesn’t own. “The pinnacle of a bachelor’s pad.”

Javier remains at the front entryway, leaning against the archway to watch you tour the room and get to know his personal space with a small smile. He pushes up when your eyes meet his, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“What do you have?”

You hear the fridge clink open. “Water or…whiskey.” You laugh, accepting the latter with a clink of your glasses together before he’s reaching for you again.

“You’re insatiable,” you sigh, and yet you find yourself already playing with the top button of his loosened dress shirt.

“Well, what I wanted wasn’t here. Can you blame me?”

“No,” your eyes close as he finds that spot on your neck. “I guess not.”

He’s quiet, lips pressed to your throat. Then, quietly, an “I missed you,” is whispered into your skin, only brazen enough for this jolt of vulnerability now that he isn’t looking at you. You bring his face back up towards you, breathing together for a moment.

“Then show me,” you beg softly. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

He groans into a kiss, guiding you into a tour of his bedroom.

The next day, late into the morning when you could finally drag yourselves out of the shared warmth of his bed, you’re lounging in a small cafe together for breakfast. His eyes are scanning the local newspaper as you admire the weak sunlight across his face when his name is shouted from the entrance behind you. He looks up and grins immediately, jumping from your table to clap his hand enthusiastically into the waiting grasp of an approaching man, turning to introduce him to you as Colonel Horacio Carrillo, who’s joined by his trailing wife.

“You’re looking at the man that’s going to kill Escobar,” Javier says with a touch of pride, but Carrillo’s wife glances nervously at the declaration. Carrillo only pats him on the shoulder with a good-natured grin.

“That’s almost true,” he corrects. “We’re going to take him down together.”

He excuses you back to breakfast with the hope that he’ll see you again soon, and you look to Javier to find his attention back on you.

“Do you know how you’re getting back to Medellín?”

You shrug, swallowing another bite of your pastry. You assume you’ll take the train again, once you leave for the station to buy a ticket. Javier’s grin tells you otherwise.

“Have you ever ridden in a helicopter before?”

++

Taglist: @1800-fight-me @microsoftcraint @thisgirl-knm @dobbyjen @arahxdjarin @triggerhappyflygirl @phandoz @queen0fchaos @sunnshineeexoxo @mrsudontknowme @rosethornxs @wyofabdoms @mandosmistress @thirddeadlysin @kissasith @cmc1014 @morenhoe

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Prominence [Chronological Order Masterlist]

Social Media AU ; Idol AU ; Added Unit AU

Genre: Slice of Life(ish), Comedy, Light Angst in Some Parts

Pairing: NCT x Idol!Reader, Later Park Seonghwa x Reader

S1 Summary: NCT ANiMA has just been introduced! The addition of the four member female unit has officially made the group Co-Ed and has allowed for the innovative group to explore new concepts. This story primarily follows Jung (Y/N), NCT ANiMA’s main rapper, as she navigates through the life of stardom through means of fake Twitter Threads including, but not limited to, Live Translations, Official Updates, Koreaboo Updates, Menpas, etc.

S2 Summary: Newly single and about to start up one of your most time-intensive schedules yet, but, the life of an idol isn’t an easy one, luckily, you seem to know how to choose the right friends. This story primarily follows Jung (Y/N), NCT ANiMA’s main rapper, as she navigates through the life of stardom through means of fake Twitter Threads including, but not limited to, Live Translations, Official Updates, Koreaboo Updates, Menpas, etc.

Y/N Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

[NCT Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Main Prominence Masterlist] | [Prominence S2 Masterlist] | [S1 Extras Masterlist] | [S2 Extras Masterlist]

Note new additions will be preceded by an asterisk (*)

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Last Updated: 6 November 2022

Status: Incomplete

Timeline Order

WCh. 49 | 190817 Yangyang hears about the imminent debut of the new NCT Subunit ANiMA

Teaser 1 | 191017 Koreaboo Tweet on NCT ANiMA w/ Netizen Reactions

WCh. 50 | 200923 First NCT U meeting about NCThree

WCh. 22 | 201007 We Got Married Preparations + Netizen reactions to the First Episode

Part 1 | 201207 Yangyang Instagram Live translation thread ft. (Y/N)

Part 2 | 201208 (Y/N) VLive translation thread ft. Mark and Yangyang

Part 3 | 201216 Koreaboo + Soompi Tweet on NCT U Comeback ‘Photograph’ w/ NCTzen Reactions

Part 4 | 201216 ‘Photograph’ MV Explained (mainly for context for the previous part lol)

Part 5 | 210101 NCT ANiMA New Year’s Bubble Updates

Part 6 | 210101 Dispatch Reveals that Jung (Y/N) and Park Seonghwa Have Been Dating for Four Months w/ Netizen Reactions

Part 7 | 210118 Koreaboo Tweet on a Surprising Connection Between P1Harmony’s Keeho and NCT ANiMA’s (Y/N)

Part 8 | Texts With P1Harmony’s Keeho After the Release of the Koreaboo Article

Part 9 | 210131 NCT ANiMA Official Twitter Account Update on the Mark Awards

Part 10 | Texts With NCThree and Johnny When Seonghwa Comes Over to Deliver the Best ATINY Award to (Y/N)

Part 11 | Bonus Idol Twitter Thread Discussing Leather Couches

♀︎ Scenario - Cakes and Vacations | {Prominence AU ; Idol AU ; NCT Added Unit AU} (Seonghwa x Reader) [F]

Part 16 | 210218 Twitter thread after a video of (Y/N) at the SuperM concert comes out

Part 12 | 210218 #YNYouAreLoved Twitter Thread Amidst Growing and Unnecessary Hate for the Idol

Part 13 | 210326 Koreaboo Tweet on Jung (Y/N)’s Old Twitter Account Getting Exposed w/ Netizen Reactions

Part 14 | Texts With NCThree and WayV and their reaction to the previous part where (Y/N)’s old stan acct gets exposed

Part 17 | Texts With NCThree and their reaction to the #TitsOutForMarkLee tag on Twitter

MUPart 15 | 210404 (Y/N) Instagram Update where she goes the the 7Dream Café

MUPart 18 | Texts with (Y/N) and Yangyang in which he tells her to read [How To Keep A Promise] and waits for her reaction

Part 19 | 210418 (Y/N) Instagram Live translation thread

MUPart 20 | {Slightly NSFW} Texts With NCThree Yangyang’s being disruptive and (Y/N) tells him to knock it off

Part 21 | 210429 ATEEZ Wooyoung VLive ft. Seonghwa and (Y/N) translation thread

[2:16am] | {Idol!AU/Prominence AU} (Seonghwa x Reader) [F]

Part 23 | 210506 Koreaboo Article about how (Y/N) reopens her Twitter account + Netizen Reactions

Part 24 | Some of (Y/N)’s tweets [bonus tweet on Jeno’s Diggity appearance here]

[1:31am] | {Idol!AU/Prominence AU} (Seonghwa x Reader) [F]

MUPart 26 | 210509 (Y/N) Bubble Update for Mother’s Day

Part 25 | NCThree Group Chat on NCT Hollywood

MUPart 27 | 210510 (Y/N) Instagram Story Update promoting NCT Dream’s comeback Hot Sauce

WCh. 28 | 210511 (Y/N) and Yangyang get mobbed while playing Pokémon Go

Part 29 | 210515 NCThree moments that don’t feel real Twitter Thread

Part 30 | 210523 Jung (Y/N) Menpa on Twitter

Part 31 | 210529 Jung (Y/N) Reactions to Ep. 9 Kingdom Stages on Twitter

[3:27am] | {Idol!AU/Prominence AU} (Seonghwa x Reader) [F]

Part 32 | 210712 Jung (Y/N) and Park Seonghwa adopt a dog + Fans Reactions

♀︎ Scenario - Idol!Reader sneaks in her dog Mars to Schedule, but he escapes and runs to Seonghwa | {Prominence AU ; Idol AU ; NCT Added Unit AU} (Seonghwa x Reader) [F]

MUPart 33 (it says Part 5? on the post so ignore it) | Johnny catching a few NCT members playing DND in the dorm storage rooms

Part 34 | 210818 Lee Mark Instagram Live translation thread

MUPart 36 | 210818 Text Convo Between Yangyang and YN during the events of Pt. 19 of the main story

MUPart 35 (it says Part 7 on the post so ignore it) | 210920 (Y/N) Twitter Update + Text Conversation with Keeho

WCh. 37 | 210923 (Y/N) and Seonghwa’s Anniversary Special Travel Vlog

WCh. 46 | 210923 (Y/N) and Seonghwa’s Anniversary Dinner

WCh. 61 | 211001 (Y/N) has dinner with her friends from Uni

Part 38 | 211001 Foreign Swaggers Group Chat

Part 39 | 211001 Foreign Swagger Group Chat (Cont.)

Part 40 | 211008 Text Convo w/ Yangyang about *that* bubble update

MUPart 41 (it says Part 9 on the post so ignore it) | 211010 (Y/N) Instagram Story for Yangyang’s Birthday

Part 42 | 211017 Jung (Y/N) Bubble Update about showing Xiaojun Teen Beach Movie

Part 44 | 211028 NCT Group Chat on Halloween

Part 43 | 211031 Jung (Y/N) Instagram Live translation thread

Part 45 | 211031 NCT Group Chat during Halloween Event

WCh. 47 | 211110 Yangyang’s Dogsitting Mars and it doesn’t go as planned

MUPart 48 | 211112 Texts between Yangyang and Seonghwa

WCh. 51 | 211122 Seonghwa and (Y/N)’s interrupted stay at home date night

Part 52 | 211124 Jung (Y/N) Bubble Update and Park Seonghwa Universe Update

Part 53 | 211126 Yangyang asks who the true hot friend of NCThree is

Part 56 | 211126 Twitter reaction to Pt. 53

WCh. 54 | 211203 Yangyang has a crisis

WCh. 55 | 211203 (Y/N) returns the cardigan

Part 57 | 211205 (Y/N)’s Twitter Reaction to Seonghwa’s Fever Epilogue Teaser

MUPart 58 | 211210 (Y/N) comments on Yangyang’s mint hair

Part 59 | 211211 (Y/N) on Universe

Part 68 | 211215 Twitter Reactions to NCT ANiMA on NCT Universe album

WCh. 60 | 211221 Yangyang continues to have a crisis

Part 62 | 211227 Tiktoker reveals he used to date Jung (Y/N) in college

Part 63 | 211228 Twt user updates a photo of Jung (Y/N) with the Tiktoker from the previous part

WCh. 64 | 211228 Yangyang has a crisis + (Y/N)’s reaction to her sudden scandal

WCh. 65 | 211228 Seonghwa’s POV to WCh. 64

WCh. 69 | 211228 (Y/N) and Yangyang go to dinner to clear her mind of the scandal and relax

WCh. 70 | 211229 Prominence reaches a turning point

WCh. 71 | 211229 Prominence reaches a turning point Pt. 2 

WCh. 76 | 211229 The First Meeting of the YNSH Investigation Team Convenes

WCh. 75 | 211231 (Y/N) Rationalizes the Events of WCh. 69-71

WCh. 77 | 211231 Seonghwa has a crisis

MUPart78 | 211231 (Y/N) Instagram Update

WCh. 79 | 211231 Yangyang’s crisis continues

WCh. 80 | 211221 Doyoung’s New Year’s Eve Party

Part 66 | 220101 ANiMA Year’s Updates

MUPart 67 | 220102 (Y/N) clowns Yangyang for syncing his tiktok wrong

Part 72 | 220110 Koreaboo Article on YNSH’s Breakup

WCh. 2.2 | 220112 Seonghwa tries to make things right before ATEEZ's World Tour

*WCh. 2.36 | 220112 Pt. 2 to Ch. 2 I just forgot to post it I’m so sorry

Part 73 | 220112 KQ Ent. Announces the YNSH Breakup; (Y/N) confirms this on her Twitter

Part 74 | 220113 SM Announces the NCThree Mini Album ‘Echoes’

Teaser 2.2 | 220122 NCThree make preparations for their comeback stage

WCh. 2.4 | 220122 NCThree make preparations for their comeback stage

Pt. 2.1 | 220202 Mark 'Come and Go Cafe' Instagram Live ft. NCThree

Pt. 2.15 | 220204 Mark asks NCThree to wait for him to come home to watch 'Child' together

MUPt. 2.3 | 220204 (Y/N) Instagram Story promoting 'Child' w/ Mark's mention

Pt. 2.6 | 220207 (Y/N) Twitter Update about how she takes NCThree's 'The' Photos

Teaser 2.1 | 220208 Title Track Info for NCThree's new EP 'Echoes'

WCh. 2.7 | 220208 NCThree prepare for their Inkigayo stage

MUPt. 2.8 | 220209 Yangyang and (Y/N) Instagram Updates

WCh. 2.9 | 220209 Yangyang and (Y/N) go out for dinner

Pt. 2.10 | 220209 Jaehyun snitches and the Investigation team chat goes wild

Pt. 2.11 | 220209 Continuation of Pt. 2.10

WCh. 19 | 220209 What has Seonghwa been up to this whole season?

MUPt. 2.5 | 220211 Tracklist Info for NCThree's new EP 'Echoes'

WCh. 2.12 | 220214 Valentine's Day Update

Pt. 2.13 | 220214 Twitter Thread discussion what (Y/N)'s Universal title is

Pt. 2.14 | 220214 (Y/N) tells her Twitter followers to have a Happy Valentine's Day

Pt 2.16 | 220216 NCT ANiMA Group Chat upon Saeron and Jihyun revealing that they spent Valentine's Together

WCh. 2.28 | 220216 (Y/N) has a crisis

Pt. 2.31 | 220217 Twitter thread about how Mars is now a divorce child dog

Pt. 2.18 | 220218 (Y/N) Fansign for NCT Universe

Pt. 2.29 | 220218 (Y/N) gets a sketchy text

Pt. 2.30 | 220218 (Y/N) gets a sketchy text (Pt. 2)

WCh. 2.37 | 220219 (Y/N) and Yeseul go visit (Y/N)’s Uni friends to apologize for the events of season 1

Pt. 2.38 | 220219 (Y/N) texts the NCThree group chat (continuation of the previous chapter)

WCh. 2.40 | 220219 (Y/N) concludes things with her Uni friends and consults NCThree about her newfound problem and the upcoming resolution of one (continuation of the previous chapter)

WCh. 2.41 | 220219 Yangyang's crisis comes to an end.

MUPt. 2.42 | 220220 the ANiMA Girls send (Y/N) some words of encouragement

WCh. 2.43 | 220220 (Y/N) and Seonghwa meet at the Sky Café

WCh. 2.44 | 220220 (Y/N) and Seonghwa talk things out (finally)

WCh. 2.46 | 220220 Continuation of WCh. 2.44

Pt. 21 | 220221 More (Y/N) Fansign content for NCT Universe

Pt. 22 | 220221 (Y/N) and Yangyang upload their own fansign tweets.

WCh. 17 | 220221 NCThree 'Echoes' MV Teaser + Netizens Reactions

Pt. 2.45 | 220221 Twitter thread commenting about Yeseul not being on the Let's Play Ball lineup

Pt. 2.47 | 220221 NCThree Groupchat bickerings + (Y/N) receives another strange message

Pt. 2.48 | 220221 Texts between Seonghwa and (Y/N) ft. San

Pt. 20 | 220222 NCThree 'Echoes' Comeback and Netizen Reactions to the mini-album

WCh. 2.54 | 220223 NCThree wrap up music show recordings at Music Bank

Pt. 2.55 | 220224 Texts between (Y/N) and Wooyoung, (Y/N) and Yeonjun, and NCThree

WCh. 2.60 | 220224 (Y/N) has a crisis

WCh. 2.64 | 220224 Some new characters you will want to know

*Pt. 2.69 | 220224 NCT Stylist Group Chat concerning missing items ft. an NCThree chat at the end

WCh. 2.61 | 220225 Seonghwa Reflects (lol)

WCh. 2.62 | 220225 Jeno and (Y/N) hang out

Pt. 2.63 | 220225 Twitter Drama following the previous chapter

WCh. 2.65 | 220225 (Y/N) goes to her aunt's restaurant and meets an unlikely person there

WCh. 2.68 | 220226 Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequence of (Y/N)'s own actions

WCh. 2.70 | 220226 What's popping with Mark and Yangyang?

Pt. 2.71 | 220228 Twitter thread TL;DR of all of (Y/N)'s current rumors

WCh. 2.73 | 220311 (Y/N) gets grounded but fuck it we ball and goes on a date

*WCh. 2.75 | 220312 The finale of NCThree’s schedules

*WCh. 2.76 | 220312 Except it’s Seonghwa’s pov

*Pt. 2.77 | 220314 Soompi article on (Y/N)’s stalker scandal

*WCh. 2.78 | 220321 (Y/N) gets her phone back

*Pt. 2.79 | 220321 Jung Sibling’s Group Chat

*WCh. 2.80 | 220321 Prominence reaches it’s climax

WCh. 2.52 | 220328 Ten and Xiaojun recap the events of Season 1 to Winwin, who’s been out of the loop

Pt 2.32 | 220401 Pt. 1 April Fools’ Mayhem Twitter thread

Pt 2.33 | 220401 Pt. 2 April Fools’ Mayhem text convo in the NCThree group chat and ANiMA group chat

Pt 2.34 | 220401 Pt. 3 April Fools’ Mayhem Twitter thread for the big reveal

Pt. 2.35 | 220401 Pt. 4(ish) April Fools’ Mayhem the Investigation Team group chat reacting to NCThree’s April Fools’ joke

MU 2.39 | 220408 Quick (Y/N) Twitter update for NCT’s 6th anniversary

Pt. 2.51 | 220411 Texts between “Yang-Money” and (Y/N)

Pt. 2.57 | 220418 (Y/N) and Yangyang Instagram Updates

Pt. 2.50 | 220428 Keeho and (Y/N)’s prom story revealed via Twitter thread

Pt. 2.53 | 220429 (Y/N)’s Twitter response to Keeho revealing the details of the prom story

Pt. 2.49 | 220502 Texts between Yangyang and (Y/N)

Pt. 2.56 | 220519 Twitter reaction to NCT Field Day

Pt. 2.58 | 220611 Mark and (Y/N) react to Yangyang getting his license

Pt. 2.59 | 220619 Father’s Day Update

MUPt. 2.66 | 220915 Twitter thread on (Y/N)'s reaction to 2 Baddies

Pt. 2.67 | 220916 Twitter threads on Yangyang's daughter-ransom scam call

Pt. 2.72 | 221009 Yangyang's B-Day Bbl Updates

Pt 2.74 | 221106 Official NCT ANiMA account update for seasons' greetings

See Other Prominence Updates That aren't on the timeline (such as small posts, reblogs, asks, and amms) on the [Main Prominence Masterlist], [Prominence S2 Masterlist], and the [Extras Masterlist]

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Mid-Year Reading Update

tagged by @asexualbookbird eh heh heh many thank!!

Amount of books you’ve read so far: 22 and unhappy about it, given the precarious nature of the tbr looming beside my lamp, currently. if you hear a bookalanche from somewhere in the suburbs orbited by cornfields, know it’s just me, crushed under the weight of everything i really am excited to read. please send an excavator.

Best book you’ve read so far in 2022: *cries Ezra why are we excluding Murderbot because it was a reread* okay but New Books Read i’m gonna have to say....GALLANT, based on the combo of how i goodreads rated it and how quickly i devoured it? i’ve read other excellent things but they have been Slow.

Best sequel you’ve read so far in 2022: y’all are reading sequels?? aside from ARTIFICIAL CONDITION (see: reread caveat above), the only proper sequelish thing i’ve read was WHERE THE DROWNED GIRLS GO by seanan mcguire and it was excellent!!

New release you haven’t read yet but want to: for someone who preordered both SEASONAL FEARS and PORTRAIT OF A THIEF literal months in advance, i’ve done a smashing job of absolutely not reading them, even though they’re on my Very Imminent TBR.

Most anticipated release for the second half of the year: i’m also absolutely team NONA THE NINTH on this one.

Biggest surprise favorite new author (debut or new to you): okay biggest SURPRISE was how much i enjoyed george saunders’ A SWIM IN THE POND IN THE RAIN, because i definitely started out thinking he was a prick but he really grew on me?? and it was nonfic, so that was nice and surprising?? anyway i thought of him very fondly by the end, enough that i put some of his fiction on my tbr to investigate!

Newest fictional crush: lol answering this as my teenage!aroace-without-the-language-for-it would have, as “a crush is when you’re not sure if you want to be someone or you want that someone to be your best friend because they’re just supremely cool, right?? haha yeah that’s toootally a crush, i get those all the time just like everybody else~~”. anyway: juniper, from THE ONCE AND FUTURE WITCHES, is my biggest ~crush~, and i love her with my whole heart.

Book that made you cry: NETWORK EFFECT fucked me up. again. my eyes got liquidy but i also don’t tend to Cry, over books or over any irl things either lol. NE made me closest so here it goes.

Book that made you happy: *sweats in Murderbot* listen i know i said i’ve read 22 books, but fully six (6) of those were my Murderbot reread, and most of the others haven’t been....Happy.......but gosh also bot makes me SO HAPPY.

Most beautiful book you’ve bought so far this year (or received): oooh, tough one. WHAT WE HARVEST by ann fraistat is Very Pretty. i’ve also been delighted by PEOPLE FROM MY NEIGHBORHOOD, recently, and of course GALLANT is gorgeous!

What books do you need to read by the end of the year? *cries harder* So Many. i want to read Everything and i feel like i have no time. NONA, of course, but i’ve recently been trying to match my fiction reading to my fiction writing, so i want to reread MIDDLEGAME and read SEASONAL FEARS for driscoll purposes. i’d also like to read STEERING THE CRAFT by ursula le guin!!

i nominate @sixofravens-reads and @gaywinemommarianhawke, if this is a thing you’re interested in!! reading buddies, sound off!!

[ceterisparibus116]

With Karen, I think the inconsistencies with her character to do with different writers having different needs for her (remember that Daredevil went through a showrunner a season 🤔). And some of it's also for plot convenience (like the inquisitive Karen not grilling Matt on the spot when she finds Elektra in Matt's bed because it would be inconvenient for the script if she learned Matt was Daredevil with five episodes to go in season 2, because she likely wouldn't involve herself so closely in Frank's story).

On to Karen Page! Ah, Karen.

Disclaimer: I have seen, like, two episodes of The Punisher and then a handful of random scenes, so I’m not qualified to opine on her consistency within that show, let alone her consistency between The Punisher and Daredevil. So I’ll just be talking about Karen in Daredevil and The Defenders.

Tagging @ladymaigrey again because we've discussed this in...literally so much depth, lol.

We’re introduced to Karen as someone in over her head but determined to continue Doing The Right Thing at all costs. She’s also hyper-aware, at least in the first episode, of the ways her presence could endanger other people (“I cannot have anyone else die because of me”) and is willing to lie (e.g. about whether she kept the file) either to protect the people around her or because she thinks she’s the best person to deal with that knowledge, or both. Similarly, she’s rash and reckless (as demonstrated in the very first episode by her willingness to sneak back into her apartment in the middle of the night). In all of these ways, she is incredibly like Matt. (This is very important and will come up later.) However, she seems better equipped at navigating conflict, as demonstrated by her attempts to mediate between Matt and Foggy after they break apart.

One main difference between Karen and Matt seems to be their core priority. Though both want to Do The Right Thing and Help People, Matt seems more concerned with thwarting imminent dangers, whereas Karen seems more concerned with systemic issues and discovering Truth. The difference is most clearly evidenced in their approaches to the Castle trial. Matt wants to save Frank’s life, but he doesn’t seem as personally affronted by or concerned about Reyes’ tactics, and he’s easily distracted by the larger and more immediate threat of the Hand. Karen, however, will find no peace unless she both stops Reyes from using the justice system as her personal weapon and uncovers the Truth about who Frank really is and what made him this way.

Karen is also, at least in Season 1, a little naïve. We see this immediately when she tells Matt and Foggy she’ll go back to her apartment for the night, despite having just told them that she knows Union Allied has eyes everywhere. I think the show intentionally highlights her naiveté by paring her with Ben, who is by far the most mature and experienced character on our team of good guys. At the same time, her intelligence, intuitiveness, and research skills are some of her greatest strengths.

So basically, the above paragraphs illustrate what I believe are Karen’s primary attributes. She’s “inconsistent,” then, to the extent that she acts without those attributes.

Although it breaks my heart that her decisions led (or at least contributed) to Ben’s death, I find that very consistent with Season 1 Karen’s recklessness, dishonesty, and naiveté. Where it becomes inconsistent, in my opinion, is how, despite her emotional reaction to Ben’s death, she didn’t seem to actually learn from it. In Season 2, she continues to be reckless and dishonest about the extent of her adventuring with Frank. Obviously, Frank can take care of himself, so it wasn’t like Karen was dragging him into danger, but she should have realized that by poking the metaphorical hornet’s nest without anything hiding her identity, she was endangering Matt and Foggy (and later Ellison). She never seems to realize that.

And then in Season 3, she does the same kind of thing. She’s so eager to try to trick Fisk into blowing up that she doesn’t stop to think that Fisk might lash out at Foggy or Matt instead. In a sense, she’s very lucky that Fisk focused all his rage on her—although that still ended up endangering an entire church full of people, and killing Father Lantom. Not that staying at the church was her idea (good going, Maggie), and I get that for plot reasons the writers needed to keep Karen in Hell’s Kitchen…I just wish she’d shown a modicum of self-awareness about how she continually endangers those around her. And by self-awareness, I mean I need more than her to just express guilt; I need her to actually reevaluate her behavior and make concrete changes. Technically I suppose it could be said that her behavior is actually very consistent with Season 1 since she’s basically doing the same things—except that though Karen might’ve been presented as naïve, but also highly intelligent and intuitive. Her inability to learn from her mistakes therefore seems inconsistent. In fact, that’s probably one of the top two biggest inconsistencies in my mind.

The other biggest inconsistency, to me, is how she handles her relationship with Matt, mostly because I contrast how she treated Matt with how she treated Frank. With Frank, she went to extreme lengths to understand him, and to understand his perspective, even when everyone else (including, at times, Frank himself) was trying to present Frank in a different way. But Karen didn’t care about all that; she cared about Truth, and she wouldn’t let anyone (even Frank) stand between her and Truth.

And yet with Matt…she was initially very patient with him. She knew he wasn’t telling her the truth, but she said she was willing to let him tell her what was “really going on” when he was ready. That’s maybe inconsistent, but not a big deal; really, I respect her approach. My issue is that once she realized he was Daredevil, she didn’t seem to put together all the underlying Truths. Like why Matt became Daredevil in the first place. Or why he kept Daredevil a secret, no matter how much pain it caused everyone (including him). Or why he continued trying to live both lives. Or why he could never stop being Daredevil. If she’d stopped for a second to figure out the answer to these questions, she would’ve realized how much of what Matt does is driven by fear (of not being good enough, of people getting hurt, of his friends getting hurt because of him, of becoming so lost in Daredevil that he loses the other parts of himself, etc.). If she’d recognized those things in Matt, I think she would have had a totally different response to realizing that he’d let her think he was dead. She would’ve been hurt, sure, but she also would’ve understood that Matt wasn’t doing it because he didn’t care about her and Foggy—he was doing it because he cared about her and Foggy. And the crucial part is, it shouldn’t have been hard at all for her to see these things in Matt because she thinks about things the same exact way.

Or…maybe she did understand all that, but she was too angry to be moved by Matt’s flawed expression of care? And here is my best explanation for why she treated Matt and Frank differently (sorry, Kastle shippers): although she loved Frank in one way, she loved Matt in a deeper way and wanted more with Matt. As such, his treatment of her cut deeper, inciting an emotional reaction that overrode her patience, compassion, Truth-seeking, etc. She also had to face the fact that she wanted a partnership with Matt, but he wanted to put her on a pedestal in, like, a bomb shelter for her safety. She wanted equality, and he wanted something to protect and worship. Part of her liked how he saw the best in her (“You always treated me like I was innocent”), but ultimately, she knew a relationship between them would never work as long as he was treating her that way.

That being said, another possible explanation for why she treated Frank and Matt so differently is arguably that, despite Frank’s flaws, he: a) was not dishonest with her (except kinda indirectly, like when he used her as bait, but I think she could overlook that because he also…) b) treated her like an equal, a partner. At least, more than Matt did for most of Matt and Karen’s interactions. So maybe the way Frank treated her earned him better treatment in return?

I just…personally don’t agree that theory, at least not as a theory that fully explains the differences between how Karen treated Matt and Frank, because that undermines one of Karen’s core attributes: valuing Truth for Truth’s sake. To me, it would be incredibly inconsistent of Karen to invest in figuring out Frank’s Truth because she liked how he treated her but refuse to invest in figuring out Matt’s Truth because she didn’t like how he treated her. That is just not the Karen the show created.

Also: I know one area you, breckstonevailskier, have found to be particularly inconsistent is Karen’s refusal to grill Matt on the spot when she saw Elektra in Matt’s bed, and Stick hanging out in the living room. Personally, I don’t mind that she didn’t grill him right there and then—maybe she didn’t want to grill him in front of two strangers (especially because their conflict was so personal). I’m more frustrated that she never circled around to it later. But I can also understand that in that because Matt committed at least one of the ultimate sins in her mind (dishonesty), and that he did it while trying to have a romantic relationship with her, and that he did it after she’d done what I’m sure she thought was everything in her power to show him that she was worthy of his trust…I can totally empathize with her decision to just throw her hands up and walk away (especially while in the middle of the firm’s most stressful trial). Yes, one of her core attributes is the pursuit of Truth, but I think Season 2 stacked so many layers (upon layers upon layers) of hurt and tension and exhaustion on poor Karen that I don’t actually find her behavior inconsistent. We all have core values, but those values can also get shaken when life becomes chaotic enough.

I also want to say that her Season 2 and Season 3 behavior makes more sense if we factor in another attribute: pride, or at least self-respect. We didn’t see as much of it in Season 1 which is why I’m hesitant to mention it (I think good writing illustrates a character’s main attributes early on; otherwise it feels like the writers are just adding attributes for plot purposes). But it’s very apparent in Season 2 and Season 3. You can only push Karen so far before she’ll put up walls because she feels disrespected. And for the most part, I find it refreshing to see a female character prioritizing her own well-being and dignity over a male character’s issues. (Except when her “dignity” or whatever leads her to pull a gun on a group of young Black men. Yikes. No.) In fact, I kind of take issue with Maggie telling her that when someone pushes you away, that’s when you have to hold on tighter. Like…no? Sometimes when someone pushes you away, you have to let them go for your own sake, even if it hurts. But I digress.

Anyway. Overall, I actually think Karen was written more consistently than Foggy (at least in Daredevil, if not in The Punisher). But maybe that’s just because I relate more to Karen and Matt than to Foggy, so I could be projecting rationales onto her that the writers never intended.

What do you all think?