#it's just... somehow hard for me to part with them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sleepynoons · 8 hours ago

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AHHHH help i need someone to pick me off the floor and bring a mop over

hi it's me again sorry for existing in the same timeline as you

anyway sooooooo many wonderful perfect amazing show-stopping things about the finale

uh first of all, kudos for the perfect break between pt 1 and pt 2 - it's incredibly seamless, and it ties all the loose strings together, and really, the thing that stuck out to me about this whole story is simply how Cohesive it is. super hard to execute that as a writer, so really, really impressed by that.

onto more specifics.

first, i so appreciate the portrayal of reader as being very sexually active, and in my mind, hypersexual. i mentioned previously about how we don't really know the full story with suo, and that applies to reader as well. we don't really how reader grew up, what her likes/dislikes are (besides sex and bad sex, respectively), what family life was like before getting kicked out, etc. not sure what you had in mind, but there's a sense i have where i truly, truly believe reader is not actually a very reliable narrator!!! i think there's some avoidance!!! some dense and forgetful behavior that is meant to elucidate and confuse us as readers!!! and funnily enough, suo helps us gain clarity.

anyway, i think hypersexuality rep is important, in general. a big part of it isn't just feeling horny 24/7. there's some very real problems with low esteem/self-respect, feelings of disgust, internalized misogyny + objectification, and more. i think this fic also treads this balance very carefully, in that it recognizes that sex work is really just a means to get by, in the most neutral sense possible. it's not always glamorous, it's not always violent. as someone who's done a ton of research and activism in sex work, especially at the intersection of sex work + immigration, i really appreciated this rep.

in terms of reader and suo's relationship, this is really where i wanna dive into it. it's very clear i love them and i love them together, but it's not just their alikeness that makes them work. it's their shared history, their leniency + strict expectations for each other, and so much more.

the specific word choices and phrases really drive this through – "being gutted by suo" "mortified" "pavlovian response" and so many more

their banter is really the cherry on top as well.

also wanna emphasize this more - despite how romantic they are with each other (in their minds), they're also so sharp and judgmental – and i mean judgmental. lowkey kinda like asian parenting LOL like reader wants the best for suo, but now that suo's become a yakuza, that's a grudge she's keeping for the rest of her life. similarly, suo wants reader to stop fucking around and actually practice more self-control, but because she doesn't listen, he's gotta take matters into his own hands and edge the living shit out of her. sexual innuendos aside, literally asian love. like fine we'll deal with it if you don't listen but just know we're holding it over your head for the rest of your goddamn life LMFAO ik it's kinda toxic to other folks who may not have grown up in such an environment - and i'm not really gonna have an opinion on whether it's valid/justifiable or not -, but as someone who grew up with tiger parents + somehow managed to be somewhat emotionally close to them, this type of love is really smth i treasure a lot.

and i think that's the whole point of the fic, for me at least. reader and suo want to take care of each other. they want to cherish the time they have together. but at the same time, it's realistically impossible not to hurt your loved ones. i think it's so easy to say certain things are dealbreakers and to just walk away, but even irl, sometimes it's also just... hard to walk away. idk maybe i have a really convoluted sense of love and romanticism, but i am 100000% convinced love is difficult and honestly not really worth the payoff sometimes, yet reader and suo kinda don't even care if the payoff's worth it. like we'll hurt, we'll love, and we'll just see how it goes bc we just care that fucking much about each other. i wonder if they'd still choose to be tgt even if they knew they were making each other incredibly unhappy... bc they're each other's person ykwim.... anyway, some more food for thought for me... heheh

also,,, sex scene had me quaking,,, i totally read the tags and saw p*ssy inspection and wasn't shocked,,, totally was prepared,,, haha,,,, ha

anyway, sooo much love and thanks again, op. i may have gone off the rails, and thought or interpreted shit you didn't even think about or agree with. point is, haven't thought so much about a fic in so long, and i really was so enraptured with every word, every cadence, every paragraph. apologies for the brief spam in your inbox, but i really hope, no matter where you go, you keep writing. thank you so so so much, truly, for sharing this with us.

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!

#cake served!

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livinghalfway · 3 days ago

Text

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events.

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!"

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side.

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway.

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer.

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him."

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time.

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-"

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!"

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!"

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind.

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least.

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-"

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief.

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind.

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce.

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all."

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this.

Damian is a twin.

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin.

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose."

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound."

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!"

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small.

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again.

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #batfam #damian and danny are twins #dc x dp prompt #dcxdpdabbles #danny phantom

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railingsofsorrow · 2 days ago

Text

Back To Normalcy

[JJ Maybank x reader]

summary: JJ often caught your unfocused gaze drifting to a random corner, lost inside your head. After Morocco, he noticed that a lot.

pairing: jj maybank x f!reader

w.c: 2.8K

warnings/content: near death experiences (flashbacks); obx4 ending is discussed (as in graphic descriptions of what happened so be aware); jj being the best whipped boyfriend; PTSD is hinted; hurt/comfort (trust me, no one dies); paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.

A/N: this is kind of a fix-it and it is set after the pogues find the blue crown. it will have discrepancies regarding canon cause I didn't watch obx4 part 2. bear with me. I'm editing this in the middle of class lol. merry christmas to those who celebrate and a happy new years!!!

navi

masterpost

obx masterlist

request me something

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“So it's like... We gotta think of everything. Yeah, we found it, but we gotta—”

“... Have a solid plan, yeah, Pope.” John B cut him off, earning a glare which made the edge of his lips quirk up in amusement. If there was one thing the Pogues had fun in doing, that thing was annoying Pope Heyward. It was just too easy. “Sorry, sorry.” The Routledge boy raised his arms, pretending to surrender but the grin in his mouth betrayed him. John B never felt the will to smile more than he did in that moment. He had his friends. His family. With him. Safe and sound. Finally. Everyone in one piece. Barely. . . And back home. What more could he ask for?

What more could any of them ask for, really?

You tuned out the conversation for the tenth time that night. You loved bonfires. Especially the ones where your friends organized, where you felt at home around their stupid jokes and drunk laughter.

But you couldn't focus tonight. Somehow you always ended up right back in the scalding sand of Morocco, blood sipping through your fingers as tried desperately to stop it. Your screams of agony even though you weren't the one stabbed echoed through your brain like you had worked hard to memorize it.

You'd rather it had been you, actually. No doubt about that.

The soft nudge in your leg made you step out of the infusion of bad memories your head had conjured up. As your eyes adjusted to the bonfire's flames, you noticed all your friends staring at you in expectancy.

“What?”

Instead of the nudge, you felt cold fingers come in contact with your thigh and you almost flinched at the coldness — that coldness — before you caught the beer bottle in his hand. With a gentle squeeze to your thigh, JJ brought you back to Earth.

“I was just tellin' them here,” he began, leaving his beer aside to scoot closer. “how I'm gonna kidnap you to South America any moment now.”

“Hey.” You forced your breathing to slow down. He didn't need you freaking out now, he needed you to be on your best sane behavior, that's what JJ needed. He needed you. “Jay? Baby, take a deep breath, it's alright.”

“He, um...” JJ's shaky hands reached yours and you shook your head when his fingers curled around your bloody ones in his stomach. “I can't— You—”

“I'm here. It's okay. It's gonna be okay, yeah? You just, you just have to keep breathing. Slowly, like me? Okay?”

Where was everybody?

“And how are you gonna do that?” You forced out, taking a long sip of your beer in a foolish attempt of drowning the memories in your head.

Sarah let out a snicker and Cleo's thick accent scolded somebody but you couldn't bring yourself to the present moment. No, you were still fucking there.

“Pope!” You bellowed now unable to control the shakiness of your hands as they tried to stop the blood. So much blood. So much blood. Why? “John B! Where is— Kiara! Baby, hey, hey!” You used one of your hands to grab his cheek, tilting his head to look at you, his half-lidded eyes showed you how weak he was. You didn't care that his pretty face was smeared with your bloody hands, you had to make him stay awake. “JJ? JJ!”

He blinked with difficulty, gazing up at you. “Hi...” And he had the decency to smile. He smiled! How can someone who has been stabbed smile and it takes your breath away the same away? You never thought you'd see his last smile and you shouldn't even be thinking of that because you both are young and have a whole life ahead of you so why would you be thinking of your boyfriend's last smile?

“Hey.” You cried out. “J, you gotta stay awake for me, okay? I'm getting help. You just have to—”

“I love you.”

Certainly, your whole body froze right at that second. That hadn't been the first time he said it, no. JJ made sure to let you know he loved you thousands of times ever since he said the three little words for the first time. And every time he said it, you felt the warmth of his arms around you, his sunbathed skin against yours and the softness of his lips curling in his favorite spot on your neck after a long day.

That's what “I love you” means when JJ says it.

Except now there was no warmth because he felt cold. Everything regarding him was cold. The kind of coldness a boy with the sun in his smile shouldn't have. There was no smile, not the same smile, at least. There was no life because your favorite boy was saying goodbye and that's what his words meant this time.

Coming back to the bonfire was almost as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed in your face. Your friends had vanished. Nobody was around but you.

“Hey.”

. . . And JJ.

You should've thought he wouldn't have left you alone.

“Hey,” you offered him a half-assed smile. “Where's everyone?”

“Inside.” He mentioned towards the house with a jerk of his head before turning back to you. His cerulean eyes studied your frame for a bit before he let out a sigh, standing up and outstretching a hand in your direction.

You stared at it and him with a raise of your brow. A question.

There was nothing JJ hated more than waiting. So, he didn't wait. He lowered fully to kiss your lips since you were sitting down, enjoying the way they parted in surprise. Stealthily, he wrapped an arm behind your back and beneath your knees and before you could react he pulled you up as if you weighted a penny.

“Jesse James Maybank!”

Oh, he was well aware he was in deep shit when you say that but hell, he missed having a reaction from you that was something other than forced smiles and blank stares.

JJ often caught your unfocused gaze drifting to a random corner, lost inside your head. After Morocco, he noticed that a lot.

“Not the government name, babe.”

“Dude, put me down.”

A gasp. “And now I've been called dude what has this world become!”

He halted near the water, after walking across the beach for a few long minutes with you in his arms. You just stopped fighting, slapping his butt at every step he took.

“You think it's the drums or somethin'?”

“Could be.”

As he sent a look of disapproval your way once he placed you down on your feet, it pulled a laugh out of you.

His fingers — no longer cold — cupped your cheeks and brought you closer. “Do it again.”

“Do what?”

His eyes carried that glint of pure joy mixed with the ocean blue that would get you hypnotized. You just didn't know why this time.

“Your laugh. Haven't heard it in so long.”

Oh.

“That's not true.” You held his wrists just to feel the warmth of his skin when he began caressing your cheeks.

JJ hummed, the sound a gentle protest against your claim. He's come a long way to know your little tells, so he wasn't not easily fooled. With a glance in your way, he knew the hidden meanings.

“Uh, yeah. It is, babe.”

You pulled your hair behind your ears, burying your toes in the sand as you racked your brain to seek an excuse that would work to get you out of that conversation. Any excuse would do, really. But you feared you used all of them since you came back from Morocco. And he knew that.

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed down with difficulty.

“Are you?”

“That's not what I asked.”

You finally glanced up, finding him staring forward at the waves, almost distracted. No, not almost. The look in his eyes, you recognize in yourself when drifted back to two weeks ago and the horror took over your mind. It didn't only happen to the two of you, you remember that every time you caught John B outside in the middle of the night, arms behind his head as he stared at nowhere in particular. Or Sarah, when she would crawl up into your bed saying she missed you but you knew exactly what she meant by that. Or Cleo. Oftentimes you needed to force something out of her given everything she went through otherwise she would shove it all in and then never share. Or Pope, because he lost a lot and yes he would never say he hated the whole chasing gold adventure or Poguelandia but he missed safety and a time when you didn't have to worry about danger at your every corner. He's getting used to peace a little more now. Or Kiara, the girl who was a fighter through and through and would choose her friends over anyone in the world, but she needed reassurance once in a while and you all would coddle her a little when you knew it was time for it.

The look.

They all had it. They all suffered through stuff that made them carry it.

And not talking about it made it worse, you told Cleo that once, but since when did you ever take your own advice?

“Yeah, well, Jayj.” You begin, crossing your arms over your chest as the wind picked up. “It happened to you, not to me. It's you who should be ready to talk about it, not me.”

“I remember the blood in your hands, my blood,” JJ still didn't look at you. He was ready to talk about it, not ready-ready but he could accept what happened. That he almost wasn't here. “I remember your voice asking—pleading for me to not close my eyes—”

“Stop.”

JJ finally turned to you, his lips tugging downwards with sadness. “See? It's you who can't talk about it.”

“You almost died in my arms and you expect me to just accept that as if it was a common occurrence?!” It came out as an accusation but in reality you didn't really blame him. He had no fault whatsoever in being stabbed and almost dying. The fault relayed only on the person who caused this torture on all of you. “I can't...” Your voice cracked with newfound emotion. “I can't imagine living in a world where you're not in it, JJ.”

Before he could speak, you cut him off. The dam had broke and now everything you had been hold it in was going to be unleashed.

“You told me you loved me and then you... You stopped breathing.”

He blinked, brows furrowing in thought. JJ knew there was some things he couldn't entirely recall that day, but he didn't remember that.

“I love you.”

If his heartbeat was faint before, now it was non-existent and if felt like the weight of the world had crumbled down on you.

“Open your eyes,” you begged, grabbing his cheeks as a cry of pain left your lips. He was cold. His eyelids shut as if he was sleeping. He was calm. “JJ, open your eyes!” And that's when you felt something touch your shoulder, different hands and voices beside you. All you could focus was on him. “No, c'mon. Jay. Jay? I didn't—” you held his head to your chest, fully sobbing. It was like your heart was being ripped apart. “I didn't say it back.”

Even if she had told him she loved him as many times before, she hadn't say it one last time in time.

You flinched slightly when you were pulled into a pair of arms, fingers reaching the back of your neck to gently press you against a chest. A beating heart welcomed your ears and you didn't realize you were crying until the sobs must've echoed the entire beach.

“I'm sorry, I don't— I don't remember that.”

Your cries were muffled by his shirt. “It wasn't your fault,” you said, your chest tight. “I wish it hadn't gotten to that point cause it was... Fuck.”

JJ tightened his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into your neck. He was still clearly shaken up by what happened, reasonably so. But seeing you like that... He would've take back every decision he made that took your group to that moment just so you wouldn't have to go through that.

He complained when you pulled back a little, drying your tears to glance up at him. Your lips stretching into a timid smile. A real one.

“I'm glad you're okay.” You said with a nod, exhaling as the fog diminished significantly. “I'm happy. But I'm so deeply sorry that I couldn't do more. That I almost let you—”

“Hey, no, no.” JJ was quick to interrupt your train of thought, grabbing your shoulders. “Do not even go there, alright? Absolutely not. Don't even— babe.” He leaned down to connect your foreheads. “You saved my life. All of you. You really think I'd be fine with going... wherever that I wouldn't be able to annoy the shit out of you? I mean— ow!”

You glared at him after punching his forearm though you weren't upset as soon as he gave you his disarming grin that turned your legs to Jell-O.

“You told me you can't imagine living in a world where I'm not in it, right? Well.” JJ brought your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles as his blue eyes full of life studied you in a serious manner. “I happen to absolutely not want to live in a world without in it either...” He tugged you closer. “It would be boring as hell and that's why I would probably, I don't know, crawl out of whatever grave I was in to tickle your feet during the night.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned with a laugh and he shut you up with a kiss, his hand crawling up on your back to press your closer.

“I can't live without your sounds,” he kissed the edge of your mouth, then moved towards your jaw. “Any of them. I can't live without your smile or seeing your lashes fluttering before you wake up. Or without seeing you when you're pissed at me and you pout the entire time, it just makes me want to kiss you but I know it would earn me a punch in the neck.”

“Yeah it would.”

He chuckled, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his middle. He held the back of your thighs, thumbs running through your smooth skin.

“Hey.” He said softly, bumping his nose with yours as the waves crashed a few feet away, butting in on your moment. “I love you. And I'm gonna stay in your life for as long as you let me. There will be no stupid rushed goodbyes or near-death experiences that will stop that, alright?” He smiled when you nodded, pressing your lips to his. “Yeah.” He started kissing your whole face then just to listen to the inevitable sound of your laugh again. He could never get tired of it. JJ would crawl out of hell just to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

“And about that South America trip—”

“I'm in.” You said, resting your chin on his shoulder, fingertips scratching his scalp as you stared at the sea. “You can kidnap me to wherever you want.”

His excited laughter echoed in your ears like your favourite song chiming in during a stormy night.

“Oh we're gonna have so much fun.” JJ started rambling on his way back to the house, you in his arms because he refused to put you down. “I'm finally teaching you how to surf! And we can visit all the beaches in Brazil, 'm gonna show you some pictures, it'll be amazin', baby, you'll see.”

“I can't wait.” You mumbled with a kiss to his temple. “Are you just gonna carry me around or...”

“Yes.” He pecked your lips, hands squeezing your waist lightly which earned a proper curse out of you and his usual untamed laugh that you were crazy about. “Just stay put and look pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping both arms around his neck and didn't complain. Why would you? You had your favorite boy holding you in his arms, rambling about your future plans to South America on his way to your place. You had nothing to complain about.

You just had to get used to getting back to normalcy.

━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @hoeshissworld

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x fem!reader #outer banks fanfiction #obx season 4 #outer banks imagine #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fanfiction

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meazalykov · 14 hours ago

Text

livestream

jule brand x gamer!reader

summary: a mistake will force the both of you to admit something.

the familiar hum of your dual monitors fills the room as you settle into your gaming chair, adjusting your headset and taking a sip of water.

your fingers tap against the desk rhythmically, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside you as the stream countdown ends. the chat is already alive, scrolling at a speed that’s hard to keep up with. you catch glimpses of messages—“hi y/n!” “top streamer is back (kai wishes)”—and giggle to yourself.

your audience is loyal, supportive, and somehow manages to make you feel connected even though you’ve been living halfway across the world from your home country of the united states for almost a year now.

“hey, everyone!” you greet, voice warm and cheerful. you lean forward, adjusting the mic closer to your mouth.

“how’s it going? what’s everyone been up to today?”

a flurry of replies fills the screen. some talk about work or school, others ask what game you’ll be playing, and a few just spam emotes in excitement.

“okay, okay,” you say with a laugh, waving a hand at the camera as if to calm them down.

“before we jump into a game, let me give you a quick rundown of my day since some people in the chat are asking. it’s been a busy one, not gonna lie.”

someone gifts you a sub, the notification popping up on the screen. you grin, glancing at the message:

“how was your day, y/n?”

“see! my day? it was good!” you say, leaning back in your chair.

“a little hectic, though. i went out for breakfast this morning at this cute little café downtown in wolfsburg—you know the one i mentioned last week? their cappuccinos are insane. afterwards i had to run around and grab some last-minute christmas gifts for my family back in the states. classic procrastination on my part.”

you laugh softly, pausing briefly as you think about the rest of your day. you’re so comfortable, so used to chatting openly with your audience, that the words come out without much thought.

“then, my girlfriend jul—”

you freeze. your heart skips a beat as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

“uh, i mean, my friend jule and i went out for lunch before her training session,” you say quickly, stumbling over the words as you try to backtrack. but it’s too late.

the chat explodes.

“DID SHE JUST SAY GIRLFRIEND???”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT.”

“i KNEW IT WAS JULE.”

“not lynn wilms????”

you can feel your face heat up as you glance at the chat. it’s moving so fast that you can barely make out individual messages, but the general vibe is clear: they caught your slip-up, and there’s no taking it back.

“uh…” you laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “i… yeah, i fucked up, didn’t i? shit the stream hasn’t even really started yet ha ha” you mumble, more to yourself than to the chat, but of course, they hear it.

the chat continues to erupt with a mix of excitement, shock, and jokes. some viewers are celebrating, others are teasing you, and a few are still trying to piece everything together.

“okay, okay, calm down, everyone!” you say, holding up your hands as if that could somehow stop the chaos. “look, i think that’s enough excitement for one stream. i’m gonna go, even though i just got on, before i dig myself into an even deeper hole. i’ll see you all tomorrow, okay? have a good night!”

with a click, you end the stream, the screen going black as you sit back in your chair with a heavy sigh.

“oh my god,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands. your phone buzzes on the desk, and you already know who it’s from.

sure enough, it’s lynn.

lynn: I watched the stream. uh oh..

you groan, typing back quickly: yeah… i think i just outed me and jule to the entire internet.

your phone buzzes again almost immediately, but this time it’s not a text. it’s jule calling. your stomach flips as you stare at her name on the screen, hesitating for a moment before answering.

“hey…” you say cautiously, your voice small.

“so… did you do what i think you did?” jule asks, her tone calm but with a hint of curiosity.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt out, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“it just slipped out! i was talking about my day, and i wasn’t thinking, and then—”

“y/n,” jule interrupts, her voice steady.

“breathe. it’s okay.”

“but we agreed to keep it private for at least a year, and now—”

“y/n,” she says again, a little more firmly this time.

“it’s okay. i know you didn’t mean to. honestly, people were going to figure it out eventually.”

you fall silent, guilt still gnawing at you.

“are you sure you’re not mad? because i feel awful, jule. like, seriously awful.”

“i’m not mad,” she reassures you, her voice softening.

“i promise. if anything, it’s kind of funny. you tried so hard to cover it up, but your chat is way too smart for that.”

you let out a small, reluctant laugh.

“yeah, they’re too smart for their own good but still, i feel like i messed up.”

“you didn’t,” she says firmly.

“it’s fine. really. now stop beating yourself up about it, okay?”

“okay,” you mumble, though the guilt still lingers.

the week that follows is a blur. the initial frenzy around your slip-up starts to die down, but the topic still pops up in your community and on social media. jule keeps things normal between you two, never bringing it up unless you do, which helps ease some of your worry.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you let her down.

then, one afternoon, your phone buzzes with a notification from jule’s instagram story. curious, you open it, and your heart skips a beat.

there, on her story, is a picture of you two from a few weeks ago.

(pretend this is jule and you of course)

your jaw drops as you stare at the post, reading and rereading the words.

quickly calling jule, your voice a mix of shock and amusement.

“you really just hard-launched us like that?”

“well, people already knew, didn’t they?” she teases.

“might as well...”

the taller blond gets cut off as you laugh, the sound finally free of the guilt that’s been weighing you down all week.

“you’re amazing, you know that?”

“i do,” she says, her tone playful.

“and so are you. now, can we move on from this?”

“yeah,” you say, and this time, you mean it.

masterlist

#jule brand #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #vfl wolfsburg women #lynn wilms

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starburstminibot · 2 days ago

Note

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

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shiny-jr · 3 days ago

Note

Dear author, I’m so sorry that someone plagiarised your work especially since you work so hard on your stories 💔😞

We want to help the plagiarised book get taken down so can you please share the link?

If enough people report, the fanfiction site admins will finally listen and take down the plagiarised book, instead of the plagiarism claim being buried.

I hope this issue gets resolved quickly and I hope you have a better day.

UPDATE! Based on this and that and also this.

Thank you, anon. I appreciate your words, but as I stated in one of my previous posts, Wattpad reports are finicky. I believe at this point, we're at day thirteen of dealing with this plagiarizer and day four of it being public and yet despite it all, the plagiarizer has still yet to budge.

So, I thought I'd give another update and give the information we discovered in our findings. As to what we know is copied and from who. Keep in mind, one of these four copies stories has already been taken down and done with. I'll specify which in a moment.

Before I proceed, if you happen to be one of the original writers mentioned in this post and you want your portion removed from this post for whatever reason, let me know. I do not want to upset anyone, except the plagiarizer. At this point in time, I care little for their feelings on the matter when they've had plenty of time to make things right.

The plagiarizer: Kristynaka1

FIRST.

Obviously, the first story that was discovered was mine, with all the information linked in the posts at the very top. I was made aware of this by the inbox from a kind reader. Ever since then, I've been dealing with this plagiarizer.

My mutuals and I found it weird that somehow, the plagiarizer had relatively good grammar with few mistakes in the story. Yet every little note or message they sent, had many spelling mistakes and was sometimes difficult to read. It was inconsistent and strange, and we couldn't make sense of it until we had a theory which some readers in the comments here have already suggested. We theorize that the plagiarizer began to use AI.

Of course, we can't prove this but how else would a user who can't format and type proper messages be able to write whole paragraphs that are actually legible and understandable?

ChatGPT was available to the public sometime in 2022. Before 2022, many of their "stories" were copy and pastes from Tumblr. After 2022, there were differences in the copied stories that made it harder to find the original story and connect it to the original writer. Differences in writing that I doubt the plagiarizer wrote themselves if we go by their messages like:

So yeah. Onto the evidence.

SECOND.

After a few days, one of my mutuals began to suggest searching for the origins of other stories as they doubted any of the posts belonged to the plagiarizer. Low and behold, we found three others. The first of which belonged to @monst and their post. Just by comparing the first paragraph was enough to confirm that.

I won't go into too much detail as the links pretty much say all you need when you actually look at the evidence.

THIRD.

Not even an hour later, we found the second copied story from that oneshot book. Thankfully, there were only two stories there, so there aren't any more copied parts from that series they claim is theirs. The original is @ppsycho and their post. This one again looks like a direct copy, even the image is the same.

FOURTH.

This is the one that was already deleted, thankfully. So there is not many good screenshots I can present, except one before it was gone. So the original writer is @mint-yooxgi and their post.

Here is the only screenshot I have of the wattpad version, just to showcase that it did in fact exist, and it was copied.

So yeah, that's everything for now. If you check out the plagiarizer's profile and recognize the other stories I did not name, please let me know. We thought we found one of them on Quotev, but it wasn't.

Please continue commenting discouragements and reporting the account!

I think I'll leave this off with something I typed last night in a chat:

In whatever way this ends, know that it will end badly for the plagiarizer. They can choose to ignore, but that won't make everything go away. People will remember, I will remember. If they go radio silent and try to forget everything but keep the stories up, comments will still be there. If they try to delete the comments, new comments will just be made. The comments will serve as warnings to others that might stumble across their account, and it will immediately make them click off the account or story because no one wants to read a plagiarized story. The account we see now will just be empty of real readers, so it will remain a miserable little place where each comment will serve as a reminder as to why plagiarism is bad.

Even if they do decide to delete and make another account yet again, whether they decide to copy the same stories they did before or pick entirely new writers to prey upon, it doesn't matter. Readers will either recognize them from before or new readers will notice the plagiarism taking place. It doesn't matter what they do. They will be found and dealt with in some way, shape, or form.

I hope those two or so years of small internet fame were worth it while they lasted.

#shiny speaks #plagarism #probably important

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felassan · 3 days ago

Text

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 3. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two]

Ran out of characters or something in post 2. :)

User: "I LOVE the line "a raw, strangling fear, struck somewhere deep past the heart". It's beautiful and it resonates with me since I myself struggle with anxiety. Now for the questions! 1) Can you talk more about the banter between Emmrich and Harding after we start romancing him? What is her motivation behind it? Is she critical of their relationship or is she worried about Emmrich? 2) I love the argument Rook and Emmrich have before Tearstone Island, it gives nice depth to their relationship. But what did Emmrich think he would accomplish with that conversation? Did he want to break up with Rook because he thought it would be easier for him if something happened to Rook? 3) Not a question but I love Hezenkoss. Such a dedicated hater lol. -- Sylvia Feketekuty: "That was one of the first lines where I started to feel I had a handle on his voice in the first draft, so that means a lot to hear. (And thank you for noting the team effort, I got a lot of great feeback from the other writers and the editors on Emmrich. He wouldn't be as good without them.) On to questions: 1) My personal take: I think Harding is worried because she's very perceptively noticed how hard Emmrich's fallen for Rook, and that he's a man of large emotions. (And because they become pretty good friends over the course of the game.) 2) I think Emmrich let his anxieties run away with him, afraid that this romance wasn't, couldn't possibly be the One True Love he so wanted, and that's how his fear expressed itself. (Did he WANT to break up? No, but he was bracing himself in case Rook did think it was only a fling and so on and so forth, they should get it out in the open, and so on.) 3) Thank you! I loved writing her. She will always be a hater until her (un)dying day."" [source, two, three, four, five, six] -- John Epler: "someday we'll get the Hezenkoss/Anaris reluctant team-up the world deserves" [source] -- Sylvia: "Somehow, in the realm of pure imagination, they're already trying to strangle each other." [source] -- User: "Very important question- would Anaris finger gun? (Finger crossbow?)" -- John: "as a man defined primarily by his tremendous insecurities Anaris also takes himself incredibly seriously and unconsciously mirrors Elgar'nan, an elf he both loathes and desperately wishes he were so the real question is, would Elgar'nan finger gun?" [source]

User: "On my 1st run I thought some choices felt like the 'bad' ones and avoided them - Lich Emmerich, Harding's Anger, Qunari Taash etc. But on my 2nd run I was so pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn't the case! None of the companion choices feel right or wrong, just different, and that's fantastic." / Sylvia: "Thanks! We tried to make either choice compelling, to have something for different players either way. So I'm so glad to hear that." [source]

User, on Manfred winning a character award: "Congrats Manfred we knew you had it in you!" / Sylvia: "He did it! My little skeleton pal did it! (Especial thanks to the animators and voice actor, Matt Mercer, because like 90% of his personality lives in those gangly limbs and his hissing)" [source]

User: "I just wanted to say that Emmerich and Josephine are so interesting and well-written" / Sylvia: "I feel very lucky I got to bring them into DA, with teams that went for them 100%." [source]

User: "I enjoyed Emmrich's addendum to the codex about Templars in Nevarra: are they primarily there as backup if something goes profoundly wrong? Would they ever get someone who just wants to help down in the Necropolis, pretty please? (also <3 Vorgoth, they're great)" / Sylvia: ""are they primarily there as backup if something goes profoundly wrong?" That was my own take. You don't NOT want Templars, in case some ritual gets disrupted in an utterly disastrous fashion. But other times...the Mortalitasi flex their clout. "Would they ever get someone who just wants to help down in the Necropolis, pretty please?" Some Watchers might not be immune to flattery. I think a few templars could be all right under some circumstances, but that they'd be assigned a mage. (A bit of a reverse of the southern mage-templar pairs.) "(also <3 Vorgoth, they're great)" Thank you! I was so pumped when I saw the final art for them, everything I'd dreamed. (And their voice actor, Brent Mukai, was amazing.)" [source, two, three]

User: "I wanted to ask you what you think nevarran wedding attire might look like? or if you’ve considered it? asking for science." / Sylvia: "Geeze, that's a good question. I imagine the couple would exchange some custom-made grave gold pieces to mark the occasion, given how important it is in Nevarra. But other than that, you should let your imagination run wild." [source]

User: "Is seeing Josephine as Asexual or part of the Ace Spectrum a valid interpretation of her character?" / Sylvia: "Totally, if that's how you want to see the character and relationship. (My policy is generally that if it's not directly contradicted in the game, you can take that kind of thing as a valid read of the character.)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'll say this (spoiler free): there's a scene in "Walking the Graves" where I felt Emmrich's voice finally click for me on the first draft, so that one's special to me." [source]

User: "I remembered some questions I had about Emmrich.. Can he play any instruments? I always invision him playing a pipe organ or maybe violin! If not, are there any he would like to learn? 😊 Also, I was curious, can he ice skate? out on that frozen Nevarran lake in winter" / Sylvia: "Those are interesting questions. Because they're something I never considered or wrote, there's no real canon there yet. I see Emmrich as more an appreciator of music than a musician, but can't rule it out. As for ice-skating, I'm not even sure we've shown that in Thedas. I think Emmrich would enjoy it though. UPDATE: a friend reminded me about this tidbit from World of Thedas 2: "Ice skating – during the winter in Nevarra, people often skate on the frozen over Minanter river." So it's canon now. Emmrich ice-skates. He instantly manifests a scarf when doing so. (I fall on my sword for forgetting this.)" [source, two, three]

User: "about Josephine: what would her ideal/dream wedding be? I was tickled when I read about that in her letter to her Inquisitor I just have to know" / Sylvia: "what a delightful question in turn! I think she'd want a big, flower-filled, no-holds barred wedding at her family's estate. All her relatives, friends she made in the Inquisition, the Inquisitor's relatives (if they have any/keep in touch.) She'd begin planning 16 months in advance." [source]

Sylvia: "Aw thank you! (On behalf of me, and the rest of the team, so many people worked so hard on our eccentric necromancer man.)" [source]

Sylvia: "The Mourn Watch and Emmrich are a bit eccentric, but I really wanted their reverence for the dead (and the living) to feel genuine." [source]

User: "As someone who himself gets awful pangs about the thought of death and nothingness, it was really refreshing to see a character have those same thoughts as me, especially as he also happens to be a Necromancer who is around death daily." / Sylvia: "You're welcome, and thanks for the kind words. It's a familiar thing for me too, so I really wanted to talk about it. I suspect it's far more common than we might think." [source]

User: "My HOF was a spirit healer, very kind & very curious, & for years I've considered how that special connection to spirits might lend itself to an interest in Thedan necromancy & puzzling out where spirits & souls begin & end. Emmrich, Manfred/Curiosity and the wisps gave me so much to think about!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much! And that's interesting about your HOF. They may've found some kindred spirits if they ever ventured further north." [source]

User: "No questions other than thank you and the team for Emmrich and Nevarra / The Mourn Watch. Seeing death treated with such kindness, empathy and as beautiful renewal rather than grim end is so refreshing and personal to me, it was a great experience to have!" / Sylvia: "That's one of the things I really wanted to express in Emmrich's arc, so I'm so glad you felt that way." [source]

User: "I feel that my Rook would want to learn more about the Mourn Watch after saving the world." / Sylvia: "Emmrich and the Watchers would love that. Emmrich probably has like, five lectures he could rattle off without preparation for your Rook already, haha." [source]

User: "do you have any favorite tidbits about Audric or Myrna that you can share?" / Sylvia: "As for tidbits, hrm. I did post something on what Audric's up to these days. Nothing surprising, but he's doing well! And I never wrote it in-game, so it lives in the hazy world of "only canon in my head": while Emmrich doesn't come from nobility, Myrna does-the Van Markham branch. She had the finest education, even before the Watchers. She doesn't play it up much, though. Her real passion's her work. And the theater. (I did a small bit about her love of theater here [link or see Post Two]. I think she's a regular attendee.)" [source, two, three]

Sylvia: "I also really wanted to explore more of the Necropolis ever since I first read about it. I'm very lucky the team and I finally got to show everyone the crypts..." [source]

User: "he stories, the worldbuilding, the characters, the locations, I loved it all so much I played my MW Rook twice" / Sylvia: "Nice. The Mourn Watch appreciates your studious interest in the hallowed art of necromancy." [source]

Sylvia: "thank you on behalf of the whole team, as you've surmised there were a lot of people bringing him to life. (Especial props to Nick Borraine, his VA, who's wonderful in the role.)" [source]

Sylvia: "It always makes me happy when people mention the short stories, and glad you enjoyed meeting (and perhaps romancing...) Emmrich." [source]

Sylvia, on Vorgoth: "I'm afraid I deliberately left our cloak-shrouded Watcher a mystery. But I'll say this: I'm sure they'd show your Rook in that picture their art collection, an honor Vorgoth bestows only on those they like or trust." [source]

User: "does the watch have any rules in regards to courtship/marriage between fellow watchers? An does Emmrich lecture at the Necropolis or at the College of Magi in Cumberland?" / Sylvia: "1) I actually got into that a little here [link or see Post Two]. Short story, it's not forbidden for mages within Circles to court or marry, so no particular rules there I think. 2) That is a very good question. Full disclosure, I am answering on the fly with what I think makes most sense. I can see Emmrich doing a bit of both in his younger days. But as he grew older, more specialized in his field, and had more MW responsibilities, he probably worked more out of the Necropolis. (And prefers it anyhow.) By the time DAV starts, it's probably been years since he was in Cumberland." [source, two, three]

User: "Thank you for your moving portrayal of thanatophobia. While most people have some fear of death, it was amazing to see the thanatophobic panic attacks etc portrayed so accurately." / Sylvia: "Thanks - they're not an unfamiliar phenomenon to me, I wanted Emmrich to try to get across that helplessness and wretched terror. (I suspect more people are affected by them than we commonly talk about.)" [source]

User: "whoever decided “DA liches are immortal protectors and not always evil?” Chef’s kiss. It’s all I’ve ever wanted!" / Sylvia: "Thanks again! It was in Emmrich's first draft. The other writers and editors gave me good feeback on lichdom and the philosophy behind it especially" [source]

User: "I wonder, did you prefer writing for either lich Emmrich or mortal? I would imagine it's a bit different." / Sylvia: "I wouldn't say I had a favorite, but it was fun to try to figure out what approach to take in scenes that had split lich/mortal lines. I didn't want Emmrich to be unrecognizable as a lich, but I did want him to occasionally be a little different, slowly absorbing what he'd become. We see him at the start of this new stage of his existence, so I think even by the end of Veilguard he's still just at the very start of adjusting to, and exploring, what he is now. I liked giving him that wonder!" [source, two]

Sylvia: "The Memorial Gardens were the heart of the Necropolis to me, the level artists and level designer and our audio team worked so much magic there. (And the lighting team! First time I saw it properly lit I think I clapped.)" [source]

User: "Also wanted to know if you wrote Josephine’s letter to Inquisitor if romanced?" / Sylvia: "I did write that letter, thanks! It was a joy to return to Josephine, even in a codex sent to her dearest Inquisitor." [source]

Sylvia on where Emmrich sleeps: "As to his sleeping arrangements, I gave a tantalizing (non) answer here [[link] or see [Post Two]]. (Though I think he'd prefer a proper bed, whatever form it takes. Emmrich's too old to be sleeping on cots like a student anymore.)" [source]

Sylvia: "So glad the team and I got to crack open the ancient doors of the Grand Necopolis, I've been curious about it too ever since reading about it eons ago. (And very glad you're liking MW Rook, I really wanted things to feel different when chatting with Emmrich as a Watcher yourself!)" [source]

User: "I enjoyed Johanna IMMENSELY and she is most definitely my favourite villain of all time now, so thank you for her as well!" / Sylvia: "She was a treat to write. (And Hezenkoss would 100% applaud you on your fine judgement and obvious taste.)" [source]

Sylvia on Emmrich's fear: "I'm not unfamiliar with that fear either, and it means a great deal to hear getting to know Emmrich helped you out even a little. (And happy to hear you dug Manfred!)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm especially glad you liked the battle theme. Our music director instantly got the tone of Emmrich's arc, he and the audio team spun off so many great tracks from that core theme." [source]

User on Emmrich: "He's a brilliant character and everyone involved in his creation should be very proud!" / Sylvia: "There were a lot of people working on him, I was lucky so many people got onboard right away with our professor of necromancy. And I loved writing him chatting with Bellara, the mentor/student relationship was fun to hash out with her writer." [source]

User: "(1/2) Hello Sylvia! Like everyone else, I love Emmrich, but I also wanted to say thank you for your work in DAI. Josie was my first romance in DA and I love her a lot. My question had to do with her codex entry in Veilguard for a romanced Inquisitor: (2/2) Her letter in Veilguard implies she hasn't married yet, 10 years later. Josie is so image-conscious in how she conducts herself, so I was surprised she would put off marriage for that long as the first born noble of her house. Curious what the idea behind it was if you can share." / Sylvia: "Thank you! I'm honored to hear Josepine was your first DA romance. Re: marriage, you're right, that is a big time gap. I basically didn't want to surprise returning players with a marriage that had already happened to their Inquisitor offscreen. I'm sure Josephine has kept busy with world affairs, and so has the Inquisitor, which isn't a bad reason it's taken so long. But I thought it'd be more engaging for players to imagine the proposal, how they'd react, what the wedding would be like, as something good happening to them in the future." [source, two]

User: "I wanted to ask about banter I saw online; why does Taash say Emmrich smells like potash? Isn't that a bad smell, like rotten eggs? He doesn't strike me as a smelly person outside of being around the dead. Maybe Trick would know too" / Trick Weekes: "IIRC, I based it on residual scents that would come from chemicals -- can't remember whether it was what you'd get from working with embalming liquids or something used to style hair. That said, Taash comments on scents non-adaari can't detect, so it's not like he smells bad to normal people." [source] / Sylvia: "Chiming in late, but what Trick said. Taash has an incredible sense of smell, but they're detecting the tiny residuals. (Which is why poor Taash can smell that burial Emmrich helped with, even though he scrubbed down thoroughly afterwards. Gotta keep hygienic!)" [source]

User: "I wish more games had Romances like this, he was just simply perfect. [Emmrich] believably cares for Rook." / Sylvia: "I'm glad that part felt heartfelt, it was one of the cores of his romance for me." [source]

User: "What inspired you to want to go into writing for games? Or just writing in general?" / Sylvia: "I've played games since I was about 5 years old and that's what really did it. I fell in love at once with these cool, weird little worlds you could visit as someone else. As for writing in general, it feels goofy (or ominous) to call it a Calling, but it's just something I've always enjoyed doing. It's also probably what I'm best at, which means I'm unfathomably lucky I ended up at BioWare. I don't think I would've been happy until I was doing game writing somewhere, somehow!" [source, two]

User: "I have two questions about his and Johanna's childhood. 1. How and when did he and her(johanna) meet? 2. What was the story between him and her back then? Sorry if it's too long a question. Thank you! Oh I'm so sorry, how could I forget another important question😭😓 3. How tall do you think he is👀 He's almost as tall as Taash!" / Sylvia: "I have not forgotten the other two questions, I'll get to them later (it's just getting late here) but this one's a little easier. I THINK he's about 6 foot 2 inches without his boots, so about 6 foot 3 with them on. (A character artist would have to confirm or deny if I'm remembering right.)" [source]

Sylvia on her time at BioWare: "So I gt a 5 year award statue that looked like a glass disc, and then we swapped over the to the BioWare Character award statues so I got Wrex as my 10th one. (I think I remember people who'd been around earlier than me with those clocks on their desks!)" [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #lgbtq #mass effect #dragon age: tevinter nights

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thedevilinmybrain · 3 days ago

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First off, I love your fics, always have, and always will :)

Rut or Heat aftercare. The rut or heat has ended, and Harry or Louis cares for the other. Feeding, cuddling, and keeping them happy while they rest after an eventful few days. Feel free to choose who just had the rut or heat

Oh you are too sweet. Thank you so much. Hope you like this:

"There ya go, love. Easy now." Louis' hand is firm, steady under Harry's arm as he helps lower him into the warm water. There is a fizzling bathbomb in the corner, turning the water an aquamarine colored blue with gold glitter in it. "Feels nice, right?" "You used the Lush one," Harry murmurs, leaning his head back against the inflatable seashell pillow suction cupped to the back of the clawfoot. "'Course I did," Louis waits until he's sure Harry is settled before he lets go of him, wants to make sure he's comfortable. "Ocean bath for my favorite mermaid." "You're cute." Harry cracks one eye open, grins enough to hint at the dimples in his cheeks. "Just love you." Louis can feel his own body aching, legs and back aching, but he can deal with that later. Harry is a mess of bruises, little stains all over his chest, his thighs, his back. Louis had felt bad the first time they went through this, chastised the alpha inside of him that had found them claiming and too rough. Now, nearly a decade after they started, it feels somehow right. The more Harry, heat delirious and presenting, had begged for them - the more Louis gave. And after, when Louis would catch him in the mirror pressing on them with that look in his eye - well, it felt like permission. "You need anything else, darling?" Louis asks, flicks his lighter and ignites the last pillar candle carefully placed on the bathroom vanity. "Will you sit with me? Just for a little?" Harry isn't asleep, but by looking at him, it'd be hard to tell. He's got all of his hair piled up in a ringlet bun on the top of his head, eyes closed, lips barely parted. The glass of red wine on the tile floor is half empty. "No need to ask." Louis stretches out his back for a few minutes, twists back and forth, before he snags a towel off the rack and sinks to the floor. He's put himself at the other end of the tub, can see Harry's pretty face and his little sigh when Louis reaches into the water, snags a hand around his ankle and squeezes. When Harry asks for the time, he doesn't always need Louis to engage with him. He's happy to sit in silence, to be doing their own thing, to just spend time. It just sweetens it more when Louis will casually touch him, will linger nearby with their shoulders brushing or passing back with a kiss to the top of his head. If that's all Harry needs to feel safe and loved, well, it's a price Louis doesn't mind paying.

#flashfic friday #fuckfest friday

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postingjustwhatever · 2 days ago

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Spoilers for Sonic 3. This is just a rant. I just really want to get my thoughts out there and everything off my chest because I am just so upset, like really really upset. I am shocked I have heard nothing but praise for this movie. It really got my hopes up. I really didn't like the other ones. I'm not a big fan of the live action plus animated characters combo, The characters still look super uncanny and weird to me. I also really don't like Jim Carrey, I realllllly reallly don't like him. I don't find him funny at all. He's got kind of that millennial humor where it seems he thinks making weird faces and acting goofy is the peak of humor. Idk if younger kids find that funny, I feel like I wouldn't even as a kid. But I especially don't like it now, I'm just old man, I'm tired. I really wanted this movie to be a little more mature. Shadow Generations did such a good job. Dark Beginnings was amazing. I wish this movie could have felt more like that.

These movies just don't feel like Sonic at all. I know everyone gets sick of people complaining about Sonic's personality in these. But I think those are valid complaints. He just doesn't act or feel like Sonic and I don't think anything they do can make me view him as Sonic.

I just can't get over the whole Sonic the other characters being aliens from a different planet thing. It makes it hard to introduce other characters. And it completely changed who Sonic is. And now it's changed who Shadow is. Shadow is now just Sonic but edgy. He's just Sonic but if he got caught and put in a lab instead of living by himself and later getting adopted by humans. They took the Shadow being a darker version of Sonic thing literally. They changed everything about his backstory all while talking about how they wanted to do his backstory right.

It just hurts so much. I know I shouldn't be so affected by this. But I have been a fan of the Sonic franchise for so long and Shadow has always been one of my favorite characters of all time. And it hurts to have had my hopes up for this movie even a little bit thinking it would at least be better than the others and be so so disappointed. Maybe I don't have a right to complain because I didn't actually finish watching it. I started crying and ended up leaving around 45 mins in. Really embarrassing. I just couldn't enjoy it. I really really didn't like the Jim Carrey parts, they were painful. I was willing to sit though them because I wanted to see Shadow's backstory brought to screen in a big movie. But then then they explain his backstory and it's nothing like the games.

He crashed to earth in a comet. He wasn't created by Gerald. Maria wasn't sick. They didn't live on Space Colony Ark. I was so confused. I never even considered that they would change any of this. I thought the gun commander was just lying to Sonic about where Shadow came from so Sonic would work for them or something. But then they show the flashback with Maria and it's still the same. I ended up quickly looking up on my phone it they changed his backstory for this movie and they did. I just don't get why. I've seen people say because it wouldn't make sense in the movie universe because in the movies Sonic and friends are aliens. So they decide to just make Shadow an alien just like them?? I feel like they could have made his backstory work somehow. They didn't even try. Now he's just a literal dark parallel to Sonic. He's always been so but not like this. Do they think the most important part of his backstory is that he was in a lab, there was a professor and also a little girl he was friends with that gets killed.

It just kills me that they changed everything about Maria. She's not sick??? I guess if she's not sick it makes no sense for Gerald to have been researching a way to cure her or anything. I hate it so much. Shadow being just an alien takes away so much depth from all of their characters. Maria is the reason Shadow exists in the first place. She was so important. Their relationship was so important. It feel so much more meaningful for Shadow to have been created by her grandfather to cure her, than him just being some alien she was friends with. Her being sick but also so kind and hopeful was so important. She gets killed by the government when they raided a place that was trying to find a cure for her and she still tells Shadow to protect the people of earth. Maria was so important but now she's just some kid he was friends with I guess. I hate that they took away her sickness and her disability. I loved that the journal that came with Sonic x Shadow Generations portrayed that more. I loved that they showed it actually affecting her. I loved them showing her in the wheelchair hooked up to the iv bag but she was still smiling. She was still strong and hopeful despite everything and she still wanted Shadow to protect the earth despite what happened. And this movie took all that away from her character. I hate it.

Them just living on earth on some base makes me so upset. I was excited to see them on the Space Colony Ark. I wanted to see them looking out the window of the ark at the earth but instead I get them laying in the grass looking at the stars. Maria was so tragic because she loved the earth so much but she couldn't be there because she was sick. They took all of those parts of her character away.

I don't know how Professor Gerald was portrayed all I've seen of him was what was in the trailers and the brief glimpse I got before I left and I've hated everything I've seen. Gerald has never been as silly a character as Eggman. But it seems like Jim Carrey was playing him exactly the same. I assume he changes and acts different towards the end but my impression of him was already ruined. What's the point of him if he didn't create Shadow as a way to cure his granddaughter. It takes away so much from his character. He was also a tragic character. Him trying to do good with his research but then using his creation, Shadow as a weapon against humanity after his granddaughter is killed even after his death is ruined. He's still alive and he didn't create Shadow. I hate it so much. It's not as tragic with him still being alive. Did they have him still be alive so Jim Carrey could play double the annoying wacky roles. Gerald Robotnik is supposed to be a sad tragic old man but all I got was Jim Carrey in goofy looking prosthetic makeup.

Look I know it's a kids movie but couldn't they at least of made it a little less silly. The games were also kids games. Shadow Generation was also a kids game but it did a way better job with handling these characters. Maria and Gerald were Shadow's family. Gerald was his dad, sort of, I hate that they changed that. I guess Maria was still like family with him in this (idk what his relationship with Gerald was I didn't watch that far) but it's not the same.

I loved the Space Colony Ark, I loved it being some research lab up in space. What about artificial chaos, the biolizard, emerl??? None of that is a thing in these movies. It just sucks sooo much. Everything I love about the games is not in this movie. I couldn't finish watching it because I was so upset about the changes. It was bothering me so much it made Jim Carrey so much more insufferable. I am wondering if Shadow still has some connection to the Black Arms because he did fall to earth in a suspicious looking comet. I don't know if I even care because they already took away all the most important parts of his backstory.

Shadow's backstory being changed also kind of ruined the whole Sonic and his powers being sort of a natural force of nature thing and Shadow and his power being a man made thing. Like Shadow is always claiming to be the ultimate life form but he almost can't live up to Sonic's natural talent. It makes their rivalry so much more interesting. I also hate them having such similar backstories here. Sonic is supposed to be unburdened, free as the wind, living in the present, we don't even know what his backstory is. While Shadow is nothing but backstory, haunted by the past and burdened with tragedy.

Movie Sonic is nothing like game Sonic. There is very little that I love about game Sonic present in movie Sonic. I hate that since movie Sonic has a backstory they decided to take most of Shadow's backstory away so he would parallel Sonic. They really just made him Sonic but not nice.

I've just wanted to see a fully animated Sonic movie for years. I've especially wanted to see Sonic Adventure 2 adapted as an animated movie. These movies ruined my chance of seeing that. I thought this movie would be as close as I'd ever get to seeing SA2 in movie form. But there was nothing about it that was similar. Shadow may have the right personality but he has none of his backstory. Sonic isn't anything like Sonic. Tails is Tails I guess. I don't really care much about Knuckles but he doesn't even feel similar to his game counterpart.

I really hate everything they are doing with this movies. It's fine if people like them. I'm not trying to change anyone's opinion. I just really wanted to write how I feel about them because this one really upset me. I've cried a lot because of it. Which is silly I know. Shadow's character was important to me and so was Maria and it hurts so see so much changed about it. I had a dream a couple nights ago that I was watching this movie in theaters. In the dream there was some kind of change I didn't like and the movie was really short and I was really disappointed about it. I remember being upset about it because it sucked so bad. And the same thing happened when I actually saw the movie. They changed a lot and it was short because I left early. I just usually don't get excited for things because they usually disappoint me. I was kinda looking forward to this one and the good reviews didn't help. I was probably more excited than I realized because I did dream about it multiple times. I was disappointed in every dream. Usually when I am looking forward to something I have dreams about the thing where it sucks. I never been this thoroughly disappointed though. I think this is going to ruin my enjoyment of the Sonic franchise, everytime I see anything Sonic I think this movie and the disappointment that came with it is going to pop into my head.

Something that really bothers me is this quote from the director.

They didn't want too many characters so they could get Shadow's backstory right??? They got nothing about it right. I wish they wouldn't have added Gerald in the movie. He felt unnecessary. I would have much rather have had Rouge than another Jim Carrey. Rouge is important to Shadow's character. She was introduced in the same game. I hate that she was just sidelined like that. Them talking about how they wanted to do Shadow's backstory right just got my hopes up too much.

The lead up to the movie made me more excited than I should have been I guess. I preordered Sonic x Shadow Generations when it was announced. I played it when it came out, it had everything I loved about Shadow's character in it. I went to the Sonic Symphony this November. I felt like this movie, even if it wasn't great would at least be a fun way to end all of that. But it really just left me feeling awful.

I'm sure these movies have been great for the Sonic franchise. The money made from them probably helps them make better games. They've probably introduced a more people and kids to the Sonic franchise. I just kinda hate that this is the version they are introduced to.

I'm just so upset but I keep thinking something's wrong with me because everyone else seems to be enjoying it but I just can't. I don't think I am going to be watching any more of these movies, this one killed any interest.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie #sonic #sonic 3 #sonic movie 3 #sonic movie spoilers #spoiles #sonic movie 3 spoilers #shadow the hedgehog #rant #maria robotnik #jim carrey #gerald robotnik

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cheshiresense · 17 hours ago

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Your latest time-travel verse made me rewatch Kyoraku vs Starrk battle over Fake Katakura.

I have to say, over the years, I have forgotten how sad that battle is. The way Starrk mourns even Barragan's death and loses his (already small to begin with) desire to fight after it... The only reason the guy followed Aizen was because Aizen gave him... friends😭 A pack. The only reason he fought was to protect that pack. Doesn't matter if that pack consisted of some shady individuals. It was his. The first and only one he got in all his 1000+ years of existence. He had no desire to strike down his enemies - didn't kill Ukitake, proposed Love and Rose to retreat with their lives... In a way, he and Ichigo are very much alike in that sense.

Starrk was too honorable and naive and paid for that.

And Shunsui killed Lilynette😭 It is so heartrending when Starrk calls out to her with no answer...

Shunsui's philosophy, on the contrary, allows him "to be evil" in order to win. Yes, he does not like war, just like Starrk, but IMHO, "as soon as the war starts both sides are at fault" does not mean Shunsui is saying that both sides are wrong in the war and to not fight till you completely disable / kill your opponent. I think, to paraphrase, it means: "As soon as the war start, to win, both sides *will* have to be evil / There are no good people in a war because winning a war requires one to do evil things, so someone who were maybe a good person will have to become evil to win". This philosophy, basically, is "to unbound his hands" (as we say in our language, meaning when something is used to make a person free to act), a workaround that allows him to be ruthless to his opponents, despite his pacifistic nature.

Anyway, emotional rant over. I guess I just wanted to share my pain🥲 I just hope Shunsui killing a part of Starrk's soul and the only family he had will somehow be addressed between them in the future in your fic's universe. I think it's just too huge to leave out. And the only way I can see Starrk never saying anything at all to his Shunsui in TYBW timeline - is because he is THAT much of a sucker for pain and/or THAT much desperate for a genuine connection with somebody.

Starrk is just a really tragic character with a really tragic arc, canonically he was never meant to be saved or have a chance at something better.

I don't know if I'd call him particularly honourable, if only because that doesn't seem like the sort of thing he'd really think about and adhere to as a Hollow who'd spent his whole life in a place like Hueco Mundo, not in the same way a Shinigami would. I think it was more that he just didn't want to kill anyone when he'd already killed so many without ever having a choice in the matter, and now that he did, he didn't want to keep doing that if he didn't absolutely have to. He was definitely a bit naive about it because it was war, and he was up against one of the most powerful and ruthless Shinigami in existence. The moment he decided to hold back, he was destined to lose.

For Shunsui, I agree, he believes that to win a war, people have to get their hands dirty, and you can't do that and still remain "good". I also think he thinks that it's disrespectful to not do everything in his power to win, because even if that means throwing away his honour, to do anything less means risking the lives of those he's fighting that war for.

Which ties into why I personally think Starrk doesn't really blame Shunsui for Lilynette's death. I think Starrk is smart enough and similar enough to Shunsui to understand him. And why blame Shunsui when he can blame himself? He's the one who held back from the start, he didn't fight as hard as he could, he even had the chance to kill Shunsui if he'd just gone down to finish the job after shooting him instead of just backing off after disabling him, or he could've even shot him somewhere more leathal like the back of the head instead of the shoulder/chest, because at their level, which Shinigami or Hollow wouldn't survive a simple injury like that? He would've also been able to sense full well that Shunsui's reiatsu signature hadn't disappeared. So that choice is on him, and he paid for it with Lilynette's life.

I also think Starrk didn't have much conviction or resolve, I mean I don't think most of the Espada really believed in Aizen's cause, they just followed him for more power or because Aizen tricked them or forced them, and prob with a side of hypnosis to pave the way. So Starrk didn't even have anything concrete to believe in and fight for aside from a debt he felt he had to repay, and that was quickly wearing away when he saw how Aizen didn't give a shit about them.

So overall, he went into battle against Shunsui without any desire to fight or kill because he thought he didn't really have anything he wanted enough to fight for, right up until he lost Lilynette and realized that yeah he did have something precious to lose after all. In contrast, Shunsui was fighting for Soul Society and to protect his fellow Shinigami, and at the time, he definitely understood that far better than Starrk did.

If Starrk had survived, I think he would've understood that too, plus he just doesn't have the kind of temper that lashes out and casts blame on others due to excess emotion; rather, he has the sort of analytical mind to comprehend the cause and effect of things pretty instantly. That would all play a big part in why he wouldn't blame Shunsui for doing what he had to do to take Starrk out. He and Lilynette were one, Shunsui would've had to kill both of them sooner or later, otherwise he might as well lie down and give up, Starrk wasn't exactly an opponent he could take it easy with.

In the time travel verse here, Idk if I'd make it a particularly huge thing, because for Starrk it's been like 10+ years, I imagine he's laid that ghost to rest a long time ago even if the loss still hurts sometimes, plus it's not TBTP!Shunsui who killed her, and i think he would've hashed out the issue with TYBW!Shunsui already at the beginning. Of course, TBTP!Shunsui is bound to find out about it eventually, which could be interesting to poke at.

But in Take What's Broken (Make It Whole), it'll definitely come up sooner or later. Even if Starrk doesn't bring it up first, Shunsui will, and even if there's no blame, I imagine they would at least have to talk about it going forward.

#coyote starrk #bleach #kyouraku shunsui #shunstarrk #ichigo & starrk time travel verse #meta

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yourgentlegirlfriend · 20 hours ago

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The space between

Chapter One: The Cameron’s

AN; Hi! I haven’t posted in forever but, I’m writing this new series, I posted it on wattpad first, but decided to just post it here as well, I hope everyone enjoys! No warnings for the first chapter.

Moving across the United States solely for her fathers selfish intent was definitely not enjoyable.

She had tried everything, asking to stay with her aunt, her godmother, getting her own apartment.

Yet her father had a good point. She couldn’t afford to live alone in California- they already struggled as a family, what made her think she could somehow push it alone?

The central valley, the farming area of California, not the sunny, beachy, enjoyable part. More like constant cow shit smell, allergies from shaken trees and lots of traffic.

Her dad was a hard working man. Always trying to keep the family up, and so was her mom. Growing up a farmers daughter wasn’t easy. Handed down clothes, same shoes for all four years of high school. Yet she had everything she ever wanted and more, what could she complain about?

The front door swung open, her father basically chasing after her as she threw her bag on the ground and stomped into the kitchen to see her mom cooking.

“You are allowing this?”

Eve yelled, her moms eyes growing a bit wide as she set the knife down to turn to her husband who stood next to her daughter out of breath from chasing her up the long driveway.

“It’s not in my hands.”

Eves mother shrugged as she picked the silver knife back up, chopping at the carrots.

Eve let out a laugh as she rubbed her forehead then looked at her dad.

“North Carolina? That’s across the country dad.”

Eves dad, Carlos, frowned, his hands gripping at his cap that he now held in his hands, his facial hair growing grayer by the day.

“Sweetheart, it’s too much to live here- farms not doing good, we don’t sell like we did when you were a baby. I got a great opportunity over there.”

Suddenly, Eve felt guilty for acting like she did, her heart rate slowing drastically as her lips turned downwards. She quickly stepped forward, her arms wrapping around her dad as she squeezed him, nodding her head as her chin rested on his shoulder.

“Alright.”

It all happened so quickly after that.

Some wealthy family bought out their land in a matter of days, giving them just the perfect amount of money to make that horrid trip.

It felt like months but in reality it only took two days to get to their new house. The main problem was, they weren’t really able to see the house they bought till they arrived.

It wasn't horrible, simple three bedroom house, the neighbors were pretty quiet too. Everything was to quiet. Seeing her dad happy like he was is what made the move worth it.

That new house feeling is always hard to shake off. Eve sat on the front porch, writing in her journal when she heard the sound of tires against the gravel of the driveway. Her eyes shot up to see a truck pulling in, her thumb clicking at her pen as she tilted her head back towards the kitchen window.

“Dad! Somebody’s here!”

Her dad usually replied fast but she got silence, rolling her eyes as she closed her journal and stood up, hearing somebody walk up the steps, The creaking making her head snap back almost instantly as she set her stuff down on the chair.

“Can I help you?”

A tall man, he looked clean, like he was from the bay area where she was from but she knew that probably couldn’t be true. The nice plaid shirt he wore tucked into his jeans, his facial hair gruff yet cleaned up. He probably had the most perfect teeth she’d ever seen.

“Carlos here?”

The older man asked as he pulled off his sunglasses, his blue eyes squinting as she looked him up and down, a concerned look on her face.

“Who’s asking?”

His chuckle made her upper lip curl slightly, about to introduce himself before her dad swung the front door open, wiping the oil off his hands.

“Mr.Cameron, So sorry I was over in the garage.”

“Please, Just call me Ward.”

Eve felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she grabbed her journal and pens and went to walk past her dad who gripped at her shoulder.

“This is my daughter Eve.”

Eve let out a quiet sigh, looking at her dad and tucking her journal under her arm before she turned around and put on a smile, her arm extending as she shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasures mine- I wanted to formally invite you to dinner at my house tonight, thought we could discuss some of the things we talked about over the phone?”

Ward spoke as Eve pushed past her dad and turned the corner, staying against the wall to listen to their conversation.

“I can bring my family?”

Carlos asked as he set his gloves down on the small shelf by the front door.

“Of course please, bring everyone.”

Ward laughed, patting Carlos’ shoulder before he began to walk down the steps of the porch.

“Seven pm okay? I’ll make sure I send you the address!”

As soon as her dad shut the door she turned from the corner, ready to protest but Carlos put his hand up and went to walk down the hallway.

“You’re going- I don’t wanna hear it.”

He spoke sternly as he washed his hands in the kitchen, Looking over as Eve leaned against the doorframe.

“I don’t even have nice clothes.”

Carlos rolled his eyes, drying his hands with a towel before digging into his back pocket and pulling out a crisp fifty dollar bill.

“Don’t tell your mom.”

Eve couldn’t help but smile as she grabbed the bill from his hand, kissing his cheek softly and grabbing the keys from the shelf and walking down the driveway.

Her first time going into town and she looked like.. shit. Her shorts torn up, and the one shirt she had on. She shrugged as she slipped on her sunglasses, starting up her dads truck.

No clue where she was going, she pulled up to a curb at the start of a strip of stores. Living this close to the water would definitely have to be something she would need to get use to. She shoved the trucks keys into her pocket and tugged at the door to make sure it was locked.

The sunglasses pulled the strands of her hair back as she slipped them over her head when she stepped into a store, Thankfully it was the perfect time of year for dresses, Eves hands separated the hangers looking for her size, not looking up when she heard the jingle of the bell again. She pulled one of the hangers off the rack looking at a beautiful solid black dress, her fingers digging for the tag. A huff of air leaving her as she saw the price, quickly putting it back.

Almost literally jumping out of her skin as one of the employees suddenly showed up right beside her, her body having a physical reaction as she jumped back and almost fell into the rack of jackets behind her.

“Need help finding something?”

She could hear her heart beating in her ears, but she shook her head with a slight laugh.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

Eve nodded as she started looking at the dresses again, side eyeing the employee who stood in the same exact place.

“If I have any questions I of course would let you know.”

Eve spoke awkwardly, not sure what her reasoning was for just standing there. Eve cleared her throat and stepped back with one of the dresses, the employee's hand reaching out to reorganize the rack.

“That’s a seventy five dollar dress.”

The woman laughed slightly as Eve looked at the mirror holding it up to her frame, her eyebrows frowning as she looked over at her.

“Okay?”

She couldn’t help but scoff as she held the hanger in her hand still, what was she trying to say? She was having a really hard time grasping exactly what she meant- if she even had a point.

“I think you should go.”

The woman pulled the dress from Eves hands, making her laugh in disbelief, right when she was about to speak, another girl from behind her spoke

“And what If she had the money to pay for it? You want that dress? I’ll buy it for you, If it’s really that serious.”

The girl looked just as agitated as Eve, her head tilted as the employee rolled her eyes and handed the girl the dress.

“Sure Sarah.”

Sarah.

Eve turned the Sarah who was putting the dress back on the rack, her head tilting towards the door.

“There’s a better place down the street trust me, don’t give them your money.”

“I’m Eve by the way.”

Sarah nodded as she walked out the door. Eve followed cautiously, looking behind her with squinted eyes as she tried to see if there was a number she could call to complain.

Sarah noticed, shaking her head as her and Eve walked side by side.

“This strip doesn’t really have corporate numbers- they probably mistreat people all the time because of pogue status you know.”

What? Eve looked at Sarah confused as they walked into the new shop.

“What’s a pogue?”

Sarah was already ahead of her, flipping through racks with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times. “You’ve got to try this one,” she said, holding up a sleek black dress that clung to her fingers.

Eve shook her head quickly. “I don’t think black’s my color.”

Sarah rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, instead pulling another gown off the rack. This one was a soft lavender, the fabric so light it seemed to look almost see through. “What about this? It’s subtle but stunning. Perfect for you.”

Eve hesitated, glancing at the price tag. Her stomach dropped. “Sarah, I can’t afford this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.

Sarah waved her off, tossing the dress into Eve’s arms. “Don’t worry about it. My dad’s got a tab here. Just try it on.”

But Eve didn’t believe in luck like that, especially considering she has no plans on leaving her house just like she did back at home. The town truthfully was beautiful though, riding with her windows down gave her a feeling she hadn’t felt once in her life.

Once she got back home, she walked into the house seeing her mom curling her hair, yelling at her younger sister, making her quietly step into her room to get ready.

The dress fit her perfectly, the dark purple fabric going down to her shins, knowing if it had went any higher her mom would’ve thrown a fit about modesty. She walked out the kitchen, seeing her dad trying to clip his watch on his own, her heels clicking as she stepped over to him and grabbed the watch from his wrist, carefully clipping it on for him.

“My beautiful.”

Her dad smiled as he kissed her forehead, making her smile as she fixed his collar for him.

“Please be good, Mr.Cameron is a good man, with lots of money. We need this.”

Eve looked up at her dad and nodded her head as she held the necklace he had made for her in her hand.

“I wouldn’t mess up anything for you, I don’t have it In me.”

The drive to Cameron's house felt longer than it should’ve. Watching the houses go from one to two stories, to green lawns to gated communities definitely made her rethink where they stayed.

Seeing her dad pull into the curved driveway, her eyes probably sparkling as she stared at the large house it led up to. That's why he dressed like he did. Of course they had to sit in the car and listen to her dads seven minute pep talk about what they can and cannot say, by the time it was time to go inside all her anxiety had bubbled up to a point she was scared she was going to really say something stupid now.

Carlos reached for the handle on the door and knocked, listening to the rhythm echo through the huge home in front of them. Eve fixed her posture as the door swung open, the man from earlier today having a wide smile on his face as he shook her dads hand and greeted her mom and sisters.

Forcing her smile once again as she greeted him, thanking him for inviting them to her home. The thank you wasn’t forced though, the house was huge. Probably the biggest place she’s ever been- in her life. Her eyes ran up the staircase that was right in front of the front door, her heels clicking against their floor as the adults quickly made their way into the kitchen area, already rambling on about the drive across the country and old farmland.

Eve walked into the living room area, the lights off and the moon shining through the windows. She walked closer to the large frames, looking out to see the breathtaking view, her hands resting at her sides as she heard the muffled conversation from the room over.

What could somebody possibly do for a job to be able to live like this? Her gaze switched from the window to the beautiful pottery on the small tables in the room, her fingers grazing over the table, way too scared to touch the pots in fear they would somehow crumble beneath her finger tips.

“Eve?”

Eves head turned instantly at the familiar voice, smiling slightly to see the girl she had met earlier today, in a beautiful orange dress, her hair curled as she smiled back at her.

“Sarah-“

She hurried over to her, laughing in confusion as she looked her up and down.

“You look- beautiful.”

Sarah smiled, tipping her head slightly as her hands pushed out to clap slightly.

“I mean look at you, I picked out the perfect dress right? This was the dinner you mentioned?”

Eve nodded awkwardly as she rubbed her arm, was this her family's house? How embarrassing she didn’t even know or remember their last name when she was asked about it earlier in the day.

“Ward is your dad?”

Eve asked as they started to walk to the dining room area.

“Yep. Sarah Cameron, that’s me.”

How awkward. Eve couldn’t help but admire the life that Sarah had laid in front of her, yet she was still so kind. Lost in her own thoughts, Eve was taken aback when Sarah grabbed her arm and stopped her just short of the dining room entrance.

“There’s this thing going on tonight, at my boyfriend's house. You should come. You can meet some people.”

Yeah, she was way too nice. Eve stared at her for a few seconds before she looked into the dining hall to see Ward and her dad laughing, Rose and her mom admiring each other's outfits.

“I don’t know.. my dad he’s super strict, never lets me leave the house.”

Sarah gave her an exasperated look, but before Eve could finish her protest, Sarah swept into the room.

“Where is Rafe?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough to catch Ward’s attention.

Ward looked up from the conversation he was having with Carlos, his brow furrowing slightly before waving a dismissive hand. “You know how he is,” he said with a chuckle, returning to the discussion about farmland and markets.

Eve shrugged, hoping that would be the end of it. Sarah shook her head and grabbed both of her arms.

“I’ll tell them that we met earlier today and we instantly clicked, you’re telling me your dad doesn’t want you making friends?”

“Who’s Rafe?”

The girl asked as a course was set in front of them, her stomach grumbling as she realized she really hadn’t eaten a single thing today.

Ward cut off Sarah as she went to speak.

“My son, told him we were having guests but unfortunately he missed your family's wonderful presence.”

Eve laughed as she took a bite of the food, her eyebrows frowning as she looked down at the plate, her hand covering her mouth.

“What is this? That’s delicious.”

The table laughed at her sincere reaction, silence lingering as everyone ate before Sarah chimed in.

“Dad, could Eve stay the night? I know it seems like we just met twenty minutes ago but we met earlier today down at the strip.”

Ward was a bit too enthusiastic to say yes, looking over at Carlos who was staring at Eve. Knowing he hated it when he was put on the spot for things like this.

“I have no problem with it all.”

What a horrible liar. Eve couldn’t help but smile as she looked over at Sarah, taking another bite of her food as she winked at her.

——————————————————————

“Don’t fall though”

Sarah gasped as Eve climbed down through the window holding onto the frame, the two laughing as they ran across the yard holding their shoes in their hands.

Once they got to the actual street, Sarah said it wasn’t far to her boyfriends house so the two walked down the sidewalk, the crickets almost as loud as them.

The walk was pretty silent, Sarah must’ve noticed Eve admiring all the big houses, her gaze constantly away from the road.

“You’re quiet,” she finally said, glancing over.

Eve shrugged, her eyes still fixed on the street ahead. “Just… admiring how different this place is from where I grew up.”

Sarah laughed, a sound as light as the breeze. “Yeah, it’s pretty here, I guess. But after a while, it all just feels… the same. You’ll see what I mean.”

Once the two showed up, Sarah tugged her through the crowd of people and let go of her, running over to a boy and jumping on his back, her mood quickly shifted once she jumped off his back and smacked the arm of another boy across from her, even though eve was far from the scene she could tell they were arguing.

Eve stepped forward, smiling slightly as she cleared her throat. Sarah’s gaze went from the boy back to her, sighing as she grabbed Eves shoulder.

“This is Eve,” Sarah said, her tone slightly clipped. “Her family just moved here. Her dad’s working with ours. Eve, this is Rafe.”

Rafe turned to her then, his blue eyes piercing as they met hers. For a moment, the noise around them faded, and all Eve could hear was her own heartbeat, he was tall, and he seemed slightly out of it, his eyes hazy and a lazy smirk on his face.

“Rafe,” he said, his voice low and smooth as he extended his hand.

“Eve,” she replied, slipping her hand into his. His grip was firm, his hand warm against hers, and the contact sent a strange jolt up her arm.

"She's from California," Sarah added quickly, her tone sharp as she stood next to Topper, who offered a casual nod and introduced himself without much enthusiasm.

"So, you're full Kook, huh? Must be expensive out there," Topper quipped with a smug grin, swirling the drink in his hand.

Eve furrowed her brows, confused. Kook? What was that supposed to mean?

"What's a Kook?" she asked, glancing between them.

Rafe chuckled low, his smirk growing as he took a deliberate sip of his drink. The way his blue eyes lingered on her made her feel like the punchline to an inside joke she wasn’t in on.

"Just... don’t worry about it," Sarah sighed, clearly exasperated as she stepped over to a small drink station. She poured a glass and handed it to Eve.

"Yeah," Rafe drawled, leaning against the wall with casual confidence. "Don’t trouble yourself with the losers down there in the Cut." His tone was smooth, but there was a distinct edge, as though he relished the jab.

Eve accepted the drink from Sarah, still trying to piece together what was going on. "The Cut? What’s that supposed to mean?"

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered under her breath, "Oh God, here we go..." before shooting a warning glance at Rafe.

"It means," Rafe said, stepping closer, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, "you’re better off sticking with the right crowd. You wouldn’t want to end up on the wrong side of town."

Eve narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the glass. The way he said it left a sour taste in her mouth, but before she could respond, Sarah cut in.

“Let me show you the view, it's insane.”

Sarah grabbed her arm, looking back at Rafe and Topper with a warning glance before she dragged Eve away.

Her grip on the drink tightened as a wave of embarrassment crept in. What did he mean by “the wrong side of town?” Was it obvious that she didn’t belong here?

Sarah’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s... complicated.”

Eve forced a smile, nodding even though she wasn’t sure what to say. “Complicated” was putting it lightly. She could still feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze, as if he’d peeled back a layer of her she wasn’t ready to share.

Sarah leaned against the railing of the porch, the wind blowing through her hair.

“Please really don’t take what Rafe, or what anybody says. A lot of them are pretty.. well dumb.”

Sarah and Eve laughed together, Sarah frowning slightly to see Eve swirl her drink around in her hand.

“I’ll be honest my dad had to drag me here, I left my whole life behind to be here.”

Eve spoke with a nod as she took a sip of the nasty mixed drink, licking her lips as Sarah nodded.

“I get it. You’re feeling out of place but it takes time, I promise you.”

Eve went to speak again but was cut off by the door swinging open. “

Sarah,” Rafe spoke with a sigh, his tone casual but somehow charged, “Kelce’s looking for you. Something about needing help with the keg.”

Sarah groaned, rubbing her forehead. “He’s a grown man; he can figure it out.”

“Yeah, well,” Rafe drawled, “he’s not doing a great job of proving that right now.”

Sarah gave Eve a small smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let him scare you.”

Eve tried to laugh, but it came out more as a nervous chuckle. As Sarah disappeared into the house, Eve found herself alone with Rafe.

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