#Nightclub Hostess

[wdr2-rlbmut]

Please keep the tags in reposting links. Thanks.

#Michèle Morgan #Frehel #Albert Valentin #nightclub #hostess #Senza Domani #Nightclub Hostess #L'Entraîneuse #Les Films Raoul Ploquin #Universum Film #UFA #L'Alliance Cinématographique Européenne #ACE #cinema #poster #Charles Spaak #Raoul Ploquin #Günther Rittau #Georges Van Parys #Gilbert Gil #Andrex #Gisèle Préville #Arthur Devère #Georges Lannes #Catherine Fonteney #Jeanne Lion #René Génin #François Périer #Jimmy Gaillard #Monique Joyce

[kingkatsuki]

— patrol

This is very self-indulgent I’m sorry in advance💕

Bakugou hates night patrol, and you hate sleeping alone.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, Bakugou has dirty thoughts about you, sleepy sex, creampies, cockwarming. Not proof-read as always.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Bakugou hates overnight patrols.

Not only because they mess with his body clock, ensuring his usual nightly routine is out the window as he falls into bed in the early hours of the morning. But the worst Musutafu has to offer seem to come out at night.

The most depraved creeps seem to come out as the sun goes down, crime never sleeps and apparently neither does Dynamight. And night shifts manage to turn the number two Pro into a social worker— just last week he had to deal with a lost woman who had just broke up with her boyfriend, and a drunk that was trying to fall asleep in the grimy booth of a hostess club.

But the worst thing about overnight patrols? Is knowing that you’re at home sleeping soundly in your shared bed, probably wearing one of his oversized shirts as it rides up your thighs— fuck.

He shouldn’t have thought about it.

Groaning at the stiffening erection between his thighs as he run a gloved hand down the length of his face. That was definitely the worst part about these shifts, often trying to swap with one of his sidekicks so he wouldn’t have to endure them.

It was too late for him now, his cock pulsing with want as he tried to ignore the sensation. Trying to stop himself from thinking about slipping into bed behind you and resting it between the supple swell of your ass, feeling the heat radiating from between your plush thighs as he buried himself inside you.

Bakugou was half tempted to call you, even though it was almost three in the morning— the excuse of missing your voice enough to justify the means. But he knew how tired you were from work when you arrived home this evening, the fatigue evident on your features as you gave him a soft smile, practically falling into his arms as he relaxed before his night patrol.

He palmed himself through thick gloves, thankful his huge gauntlets were big enough to conceal the movement if anyone were to catch him they’d think he was just adjusting them. Stifling a groan as he imagined your smaller hands wrapping around his length to give him a teasing pump.

A shrill scream sounded along the bustling street as he caught sight of a scuffle forming outside a nightclub in his peripheral as Bakugou groaned low and deep in his throat, furrowing his brows as he tried to ignore the throb between his thighs.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

It’s hours later when Bakugou is finally making his way home to you, his underwear sticky with pre as he spent the rest of his patrol thinking about this moment. Tired limbs dropping his gauntlets at the door before shrugging off his boots, already hearing you chastising him for leaving them in the way as his lips curl into a soft smile.

God, he missed you.

He’s just grateful the shift didn’t run over, as it often does if a fight breaks out or he has to try and get someone who’s just covered his boots in vomit on the correct train home. Meaning that by the time he’s finally finished and on his way back to you, you’ve already left for work.

Bakugou’s sock clad feet padded through your home as he made his way towards your shared bedroom, tugging his vest up and over his head as he discarded it to the floor. The sight of you exactly how he imagined earlier as you lay asleep in one of his shirts, the fabric bunched around your hips as you lay on your stomach. A leg bent at the knee as he saw the pretty lace panties that you wore, cursing beneath his breath.

If he’d known you were wearing those he probably would’ve called in sick in favour of burying himself inside you to the hilt, storing this scene away in the depths of his mind for the next time he’s needy and you’re not around. Moving his hands to unbuckle his utility belt as he held the lax weight of it, dropping it to the floor gently so’s not to wake you.

He cursed the sight of the time on his phone as he lay it on top of his wireless charger. Barely an hour until you were going to be getting up for work again to leave him alone in your shared bed, wondering whether he should disable your alarm so you miss work and spend the day with him instead.

Pulling the neatly made sheets back on his side of the bed as he climbed in beside you, immediately pressing his back against your side as strong arms pulled you into him. The saccharine scent of you invading his senses as he pressed the cold tip of his nose into the curve of your neck.

He’d almost felt guilty about waking you up, almost— if you didn’t sound so adorable at the sensation. Your breath hitching in your throat as he gave you a grin, his semi-hard cock presses against your hip as he nuzzles your skin gently.

“Mmmm, missed you Katsuki.” You coo, voice laced with sleep as you turn in his grip.

Your arms wrap around his middle as his warm palm moves to the back of your thigh, hoisting it up onto his hip so he could slot himself comfortably between them. His desire pressed flush against your clothed heat as a groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He rasps, “Missed you too.”

“I can tell.” You murmur, fingertips stroking the scars littered along his muscular back, “You didn’t even shower, smelly.”

“No time,” He shrugs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You gotta get up for work soon.”

“Don’t say that,” You whined, “I like to imagine I’ve got at least another four hours.”

Bakugou smooths a large palm along your upper thigh as he cups the curve of your ass, pressing you against his hard bulge with more urgency. Your pouty lips part in a gasp as you keep your tired eyes shut, his thick fingers slip between your thighs to feel along your slit.

“Did ya touch yourself without me?” He groans when he found your panties damp, fingers disappearing beneath the fabric to trace a line through your slick.

“No,” You mumble as heat licks at your cheeks, “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What were you dreamin’ about hah, dirty girl?”

“You.” You reply earnestly, rolling your hips into his touch as a silent plea for him to touch where you need it most. Your neglected clit throbs with want as the tips of his fingers brush against it.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He groans, a deep timbery rumble to his tone as he moves the same hand to tug down his boxers, “Cause I’ve been thinkin’ about you all damn night.”

“Yeah?” You gasped as you felt the leaking tip of his cock glide through your messy folds, nudging your puffy clit before catching your fluttering hole.

“Why don’t I show you?” Bakugou grunts as he pushes forward, feeling your walls begin to suck him in as he sinks deep into your wet cunt. Stealing the air from your lungs as your nails dig crescent shaped moons into his back, not that Bakugou cared. Those were the few marks he didn’t mind receiving, a constant reminder of how much he looks after you and a trophy to display proudly in the locker rooms at his agency.

“Oh, fuck. Kats—” You trailed off into a moan as he bottoms out, the length of his cock curving towards that sweet spot inside you as he began to give soft, shallow thrusts into your tight heat.

The salacious thoughts he’d had all night were nothing compared to the feeling of you clinging to him so perfectly, as though you were made for him as he set a languid pace. Calloused fingers dipping into the fat of your ass as he moves you along his thick cock, his warm breath fans against your skin as the stench of sweat laced with smoke and ash invaded your senses. The scent was intoxicating as you found yourself disappearing in it, burying your nose into Bakugou’s chest as you inhale deeply.

“Fuck, baby.” He grunts, feeling your walls pulse around his cock in response as he continued the pace.

Creamy rings of your slick circled the base of his cock and matted into his trimmed pubic hair as Bakugou worked you towards your release. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last long, especially after all the thoughts he’d had of you tonight.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He rasps, tilting his head back slightly to try and see your face in the early morning glow, “Can feel ya squeezin’ me.”

Bakugou didn’t give you a moment to respond before he was pushing your back onto the mattress as he settles between your thighs, not once pulling out of you as the new position had him even deeper. His blonde hair pushed back with his mask as his forehead presses against yours, fucking into you with long, deep thrusts. Stealing the air from your lungs with each precise forward motion, reveling in the pretty sounds you made that were reserved all for him.

When did he get so lucky?

“I’m— oh, fuck.” You manage to choke out from between shaky breaths as he hit that spot inside you.

“Yeah? Is that right?” Bakugou grins as he presses a sultry kiss to your lips, his tongue disappearing between them as he swallows your moans.

Everything was far too intense, as you found yourself slipping from conciousness. The pleasure swirling around your mind as your thick lashes flutter, feeling the familiar sensation swirling inside you as the cog begun to tighten.

“You’re so pretty like this, you know?” He grunts, “Got the best fuckin’ pussy.”

Bakugou shifts his weight, pressing some of it on top of you comfortably as he moves his hand to where your bodies are connected. Drawing messy figure of eights against your puffy clit as he worked you towards your release, guiding you towards the edge.

“Come on, sweet girl,” He coos, teeth nipping at your cheek as he gave a particularly harsh thrust against that sweet spot inside you, “Give it to me.”

“Katsuki.” Your walls begin to pulse around his cock as you lose yourself in a toe-curling climax. Your heart rattles your ribcage as you cling to his back, certain you’re leaving deep red lines along the surface as you come undone.

“That’s my good girl,” He groans, continuing to give a few more messy thrusts into your warmth, feeling your walls clenching around him to milk him of his own release, “Good, fuckin’, girl.”

Bakugou enunciates each word with a sharp thrust as his balls tighten, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a grunt. The heavy weight of him drops onto your chest as he spills white, hot ropes of cum deep inside you.

“Feel so good.” He mumbles against your skin, his stubble tickling your neck as he stayed buried inside you. Cherishing the final few throbs of your cunt around him as he felt his eyes begin to get heavy, slowly drifting into slumber, “All mine.”

This. This is exactly what he’d been waiting for all damn night, thinking about the moment that he’d get to come home to you.

Your fingers began to stroke through his hair, your nails scratching at his damp scalp as a guttural groan reverberates from deep in his chest.

“You need to shower, baby.” You mumble tiredly, already feeling sleep begin to consume you as your breathing began to lull.

“Later.” Bakugou rasps, fully intent of falling asleep like this— with his cock still buried snug inside you.

Until your loud alarm begins to blare around the room, causing Bakugou’s grip on you to tighten as he tries to bury his face in your chest. Holding you still as you futilely try to reach for your phone.

“I gotta turn it off, Kats— please.” You blindly feel for the device as you attempt to follow the sound. Bakugou’s heavy weight on top of you made it so you could barely move as he seemed content to fall asleep with the offensive noise. Although it was probably because Bakugou was used to annoying alarms— his current choice was a clip of All Might repeatedly saying ‘I am here’ which alone was arguably worse (a fact he would contest to the death), “Katsuki, please. My alarm is so annoying.”

He grumbles as he turns his head to face it, his cheek pressed against your breast as he pulls it off the wireless charger. Blindly stabbing at the phone screen until the noise stops, before dropping the phone to the floor as though this would somehow stop you from getting ready for work.

“Baby, I need to get up,” Your attempt to wriggle beneath his weight was in vain as he tightens his grip around your waist in retaliation, “I have work in an hour and I need to shower now.”

“Call in sick.” Bakugou replied simply.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo smut

[shaymoo22]

Bui Man Seaside Eatery

Hungry? You're in good hands. We proudly make everything from scratch in our open kitchen using local ingredients and a whole lotta soul. Here, every seat in the house is a good one, and the warmth doesn't just come from our chef-graded oven. The warmth of our cooking is complemented by meticulously sourced ingredients in season from Windenburg farms and local partners. Let us make you a plate!

_____________________________________________________________

This lot is placed in Windenburg where the nightclub was originally placed!

Lot size: 30 x 20

Lot Type: Restaurant

Packs Used: Get Famous, Seasons, Get Together, Get to Work, Dine Out, Spa Day

EA ID: shaymoo22

______________________________________________________________

CC List:

Awingedllama: Boho living, Blooming Rooms (only used for some plants)

ATS4: Bistro Chair 3, Bar drinks, Advent 2020 Wine Bottles

Harrie: Brutalist Bathroom, Brownstone Collection Part 1 &2 Merged, Coastal Pt 4 (double fridge), Spoons Pt 1, 2, &3 (counters, door, table, and hostess stand)

Felixandre: Chateau Pt 1 (Brick wall and window frame), Grove (arches)

Little Dica: H&B Stores (letters used for signage)

Madame Ria: Basic Luxe (stool)

Marvell World: Lux Collection (wall slats)

Myshunosun: Garden Stories (outdoor lights), Gale (dining chair), Lottie (potted tree)

Madlen: Niels Wall (exterior wallpaper)

Peacemaker: Cane Living (Artwork)

Pierisim: Domaine Du Clos Set, MCM Set

Tuds: IND Collection

Other Bottles Seen on Shelf: Lilith Set by Taurus Design, RVSN On Cloud Nine Wine Bottles

Lighting: Syb - Life Livingroom Ceiling Lamp, Sim Man - Hedwyn Living Pendant Light, Simenapule - Set Vicky Ceiling Lamp

Thank you: @pixelglam

#sims 4 #sims 4 maxis match #sims 4 build #sims 4 custom content #sims 4 cc #sims 4 lot #ts4 lots #lots #sims 4 lots #mybuilds

[seethesin]

vampires everywhere!

pairing: Vampire!Hazel Callahan x F!Monster Hunter!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, hazel & reader are 18+, supernatural/vampire au, blood kink, heavy petting, biting, cunnilingus, teasing (18+, mdni)

a/n: based on the request by anonymous found here. i know i said i'd wait until we got closer to halloween, but this idea had a chokehold on me. gif pack/gif credit.

click here for part two!

"You came."

There's genuine relief in your target's disembodied voice as you enter the mausoleum. You look around frantically, squinting to try and adjust to the darkness. It's impossible though and suddenly, your hostess drops from the ceiling. She lands neatly on her feet, looming over you as she rocks gleefully on her heels. Startled, you back into the door.

She stands at average height with unkempt brown hair. Her skin is translucent; even in the dark, the blue plume of her veins crawls up her neck. A broad, boyish smile plays on her lips, revealing a pristine pair of fangs.

"I'm Hazel."

On instinct, you draw your silver stake. The tip presses precisely into her chest and she smirks.

"Feels like someone's happy to see me tonight."

You dig the stake deeper, watching as it tears a hole through her shirt and pierces her skin. Moments later, the scent of rotting, burning flesh fills your lungs and you cough. Droplets of blood drip from the wound and carefully, Hazel uses her middle finger to clean up the excess. She slips the digit in her mouth, sucking it clean as her skin sizzles against the silver. Her cheeks hollow sinfully and you gulp, your mouth watering.

You were disgusted with yourself. You were supposed to kill her, not fuck her.

"I'm thrilled," you respond blankly, gripping the hilt of your weapon steady. "Thrilled to dispose of another leech."

Hazel sneers, leaning back so that the tip of your stake unsheathes itself from her flesh. Moments later, the wound begins to heal itself.

"We both know that's not the reason," she singsongs, glacier-blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Okay, maybe it's not the entire reason.

Through the monster hunter grapevine, you heard of a nightclub that hosted some high-profile fiends—The Last Drop. Many of the frequent flyers had bounties on their heads and you were eager to cash in.

As you spent your nights staking the place out, there was one person that you always noticed. It was the girl currently hovering over you, wearing her smile like a gold star on her chest. Like clockwork, Hazel left every time by four in the morning. Where she went after that you didn't know. But you would be lying if you said she didn't distract you from your main mission.

Hence why you were currently in this predicament. Curiosity got the best of you tonight and you followed Hazel back to whatever this was. Her lair? Her home? Her timeshare?

A snarky comment is readied on your tongue, but it dissolves as soon as you feel her mouth on yours. Your eyes go wide as saucers and your grip on your weapon falters. The stake hits the floor with a clatter that echoes throughout the high ceiling. Hazel's tongue slips between your parted lips and you taste the iron of her blood. Her fangs graze against your lower lip, drawing blood that she laps up eagerly.

Regaining control, you rip your face away from hers. Your breathing is shallow as you stare at her, bewildered. Hazel cackles in delight, drinking the sight of your swollen and bloody lips.

"I can read your thoughts, sweetheart. Don't they teach you that in Van Helsing school?"

Blush crawls up your neck and you lean into the door, defeated. This was beyond humiliating. To be completely bested by your enemy like this was difficult to recover from. You refuse to look at her willingly, but she closes the distance between you again. Her fingers pinch your chin, tugging it up so that you're forced to look at her.

Suddenly, you're dragged up the door, caged in between Hazel's arms. Her palms are planted at each side of your head and her thigh slips in between your legs.

"Guess not," she mutters, clearly amused.

The pressure of her thigh against your cunt makes you gasp. The rough denim of her jeans brushes against pussy, making you cant your hips. You refuse to admit it out loud, but you want more.

Thankfully, Hazel doesn't need to hear you say it.

Her hands grip your hips, holding you steady as she drags you down the length of her thigh.

"Oh god," you whisper, eyes screwed shut as you dig half moons into your palms. The sensation felt too good.

"Like that?"

You go mute. Hazel huffs, pushing you back up the length of her thigh.

"Gotta use your words," she urges and your eyes shoot open into a glare. Hazel's stupid grin does not falter as she leers predatorily at you. "If you don't, you're not cumming."

You whine.

It comes out before you can filter your thoughts. Your hands fly to your mouth, glancing up at Hazel as her intimidating stare melts into something mirthful.

She begins to laugh, adding to your embarrassment.

"There she is."

Her knee remains pressed into the wall, watching you expectantly. Defeated, you roll your hips, stealing friction between the fabric of your clothing. Eagerly, Hazel leans in. Her mouth is on your skin, kissing across your jawline and down the slope of your neck. You feel her teeth graze your flesh before quickly, her fangs pierce into your skin.

You moan, reflexively jerking away before leaning back into Hazel's unnaturally cool touch. Her tongue pokes out from her mouth, lapping the blood that drools from your fresh wound. Her hands slide into yours, pinning them against the door. She removes her thigh from between your legs and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"If your blood tastes this good," she begins, removing one hand from your wrist, only for the other hand to gather them both between her fingers. She presses your wrists back into the wall as her free hand sinks down your abdomen. Her hand slides to your pants, fingers sliding up the length of your clothed cunt. Your blood roars in your ears.

"I can't imagine what your pussy tastes like."

"Then do it."

Your statement is so immediate it makes Hazel flinch. She blinks in shock, looking up at you with the same surprise you experienced minutes ago.

"Yeah?" she asks and you nod curtly.

"Don't make me change my mind, leech."

Hazel beams.

Quickly, she brings you back onto the floor. Your fingers are at your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning the fly before shoving them down your thighs. You shimmy out of them, discarding them onto the floor. Your underwear follows soon after.

Hazel stares unabashedly, pupils dilated wide as her hands are on your waist. She hoists you back up against the door, positioning you so that she's between your legs, knees hanging over her shoulders as she stands eye level with your weeping pussy.

You feel Hazel's lips on your skin, her warm breath sharply contrasting the cold grip her fingers have on your body. A string of moans pushes from your throat as you feel her kiss across your inner thighs. Her fangs pierce the soft skin, drawing blood as her tongue cleans up the mess they leave. Your fingers thread into her dark hair, tugging firmly to guide her closer to where you need her most.

She chuckles and the vibrations go straight to your throbbing clit.

"So impatient," she tuts, but concedes and follows your somatic demand.

Her tongue darts out from her lips, kitten licking the length of your slit to your clit. You sigh out, rutting your hips toward Hazel's face as she envelops her lips around your clit. She sucks sharply and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull. You're not going to last long and Hazel doesn't need to read your mind to know that too.

It's when she fucks you with her tongue that you that you finally cum. The dam in your gut shatters and a wave of pleasure washes over you. Your nails claw at Hazel's scalp, shoving her in place as you grind your cunt into her eager tongue. Her hold does not falter, keeping you steady until your labored breathing evens out. After a few moments, her head darts out from between your legs. Even in the darkness, the shine of spittle and slick glows on her chin.

"How was that?" It was your turn to be cocky and you relished every moment of it.

Hazel lowers you back onto the floor, allowing you to locate your discarded clothing. She wipes her chin, the flat of her tongue licking off the remnants on her palm.

"You tell me." She tosses the question back to you as you pull your underwear over your hips.

"Well," you start, stepping in and pulling up your pants. You meet Hazel's inquisitive gaze as you fasten the button and pull the zipper up. A shit-eating grin cracks across your face.

"You're still alive, right?"

#bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

[forestofstarlight]

Open Starter: A Silver Lining (Submissive Muses Preferred)

Loud club music plays as you walk into Silver Lining, the most well-rated and highly profitable brothel and nightclub in all of the realms. Despite the modern appearance of the interior, there were beings of all species enjoying their time inside.

A women walks up to you, her silver eyes staring through you with both calmness and power.

“Welcome to Silver Lining. I am Silver, the owner and your hostess for tonight. How may I help you?” She asks, an air of seduction in her voice.

#open starter #Silver #new starter

[ashyllum]

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr sunday #sunday #sunday x reader #yandere #honkai star rail x male reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday #hsr sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #Spotify

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 2]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

[cw: alcohol]

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you. 

wc: 6k

It was always blistering hot in that damn restaurant.

Countless patrons packed tight into booths and tables throughout the building on that busy Saturday night, and the heat that radiated off of them was near suffocating. Sweat clung to every inch of your skin, especially in your armpits, and you had never found yourself secretly so grateful to be dressed in black because at least the evidence was invisible. 

Despite your discomfort, you performed your job to the best of your ability, per usual. You weaved between tables as you led your guests to their seats, packaged at least twenty to-go orders, and only got yelled at by the waitstaff once for seating a family of five incorrectly. Really it was no different from any other night you worked. Things were always chaotic at a restaurant as successful as Sapori, which made things stressful, but your pay as a hostess was at least manageable. And they turned a blind eye when your hours started hitting over the fifty mark in a week, whereas most other places would be finding ways to get you to cut back in order to not pay you overtime. 

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you. 

Except someone was always looking out for you, which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised when you saw Row strut through the entrance with an obnoxious pirate hat on her head. Your first instinct was to grab one of the menus and hide your face as if it would disguise you among the backdrop of the crowd behind you. Row was much too perceptive for you to slip away without consequence, so you continued to stand at your station with only a slight grimace on your face as she approached. 

“Ahoy, matey,” she exclaimed, though with only half the enthusiasm you knew she could muster. 

“I don’t think Jack Sparrow ever said that throughout any of the movies,” you said. 

“Captain Jack Sparrow, mind you,” Row corrected. 

“Right, of course.” 

“I thought you would’ve remembered that better after you oh so ceremoniously dubbed me the name Sparrow after him,” she continued. 

The thing was, Row could go on for ages like that, bickering back and forth with you until one of you got sick of it and complained hard enough that the other was forced to stop. Judging by the excitement that pooled in her eyes and the playful way she kept messing with her cheap pirate hat, you knew she could go all night if she needed to. Instead, you sighed as you quickly glanced over your shoulder, ensuring things were still going smoothly behind you before you turned your attention back to Row. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned as you fiddled with the stack of menus in front of you. 

“I’m here to pick you up,” Row responded as if you should have already known the answer. 

Just as you opened your mouth to question her further, the answer smacked the back of your head. Halloween. No wonder why she wore that stupid foam hat. Earlier in the week you had agreed to go to John’s club to celebrate the stupid holiday, and then completely forgot about it. Which is why you neared hour eleven of your eight hour shift. Usually you didn’t mind the extra hours, however, if you had remembered you would have been finishing your night off in a packed nightclub during a holiday, well… you would’ve been home attempting to recharge a long time ago. 

“You’re off soon, aren’t you?” Row then asked when your silence started to stretch. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you answered as your eyes flickered to the clock on your left. Five to ten. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be good to go.” 

In reality, no amount of preparation could ever truly ready you for any sort of intense social outing, and you dreaded arriving at the club the entire ride there. You had only been to John’s club one other time previously for Row’s birthday, and that had been more than enough for you. Despite it being years ago, you could still smell the rancid alcohol and feel the bass of the music ripple through your chest as if it would turn your organs into jelly. Everything was too loud, too much, too close. 

But this was Row. 

So when the two of you stood outside of that hulking building that shook from the inside out, you tried your best not to complain. A deep throb began to gnaw at the soles of your feet from standing for so long, and a tension headache blossomed at your temples, but at least you were offered the solace of entering through the VIP section rather than the main door. Countless people stood outside in line for even the slightest chance of being admitted, which should have made you feel special being allowed through another entrance, but you knew that meant the inside was packed more than work had been. 

Except it got worse. Because it always got worse. 

You almost didn’t recognize the large figure that stood outside of the VIP entrance, but once those dark eyes landed on you, you knew it couldn’t be anyone other than Simon Riley. That odd, searing feeling that had plagued you the night you went to dinner at the Price’s quickly returned as his gaze meandered back and forth between you and Row. They were soft, inquisitive. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend why you were in a place like that. As if he knew you didn’t belong in a place like that. 

“Evenin’ ladies,” he greeted casually. 

Even if you hadn’t recognized him visually, his voice would have been more than enough to jog your memory. You could still feel his breath tickle your ear as he leaned over your back to guide your hands into place while playing pool. The sound of him  was a delicious baritone you were certain would haunt you in your sleep. 

“Stuck on guard duty tonight, Riley?” Row teased. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Simon responded. 

“Shame. Well, Chip and I-” Row continued as she put too much emphasis on your name while she threw her arm around your shoulder, “-are going to get wasted.” 

A slight smirk pulled at Simon’s lips and you couldn’t help but shake your head at Row’s triumphant claim. She could get wasted if she wished. You planned on trying to keep your wits about you best as you could in that foreboding place. 

“That so?” Simon asked. He said it as if he attempted to challenge your friend, but he still stepped to the side and gestured to the open door behind him all the same. “Cheers.” 

There wasn’t any time to glance over your shoulder before Row pressed onward, making sure to drag you along with her. Walking into John’s club was what you imagined walking into hell felt like. Thick, hot air threatened to singe your hair, and you instantly found it hard to breathe. Countless patrons surrounded the entryway, and it appeared that Row wasn’t the only one who felt festive as many of them wore masks, cheap costumes, or on the not-so-rare-occasion, straight lingerie. The cheering and chatting from the dance floor could almost be confused with the screams of the damned, and you found yourself taking deeper breaths than normal in order to supply your brain with enough oxygen to keep going. 

“Come on!” Row shouted. Even with her yelling right into your ear it was nearly impossible to hear her over the mess of music that poured through the speakers around you. “Up top! More room!” 

Despite the fact you were in the VIP section, it was still incredibly crowded. Whenever you thought of a section like that, you usually figured it would be a bit more sparse than that. Perhaps it was just that night, wild and full of insane antics, that caused the crowd to grow larger than expected, but there was slight reprieve to be found on the second floor. Though the elevation was higher, the air felt fresh as it had fewer bodies to attempt to weave through. 

After you and Row got your drinks, the two of you made yourselves at home at a small table on an overhanging balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Surprisingly, it was quieter there than anywhere else, which you realized must have been thanks to the fact you sat behind the speakers for once rather than in front of them. Still, even with the slight break from the usual bustle, you couldn’t help but mess with the straw of your mostly full drink while your foot tapped on the floor. 

“Well?” Row asked you expectantly. She said the word as if she had given you a question to answer, but it was the first thing that had been said between the two of you since you had sat down. “How have you been? Really? I feel like we weren’t able to talk the other night with all the extra distractions.” 

“Oh. Well, you know…” you started, but the words died in your throat. 

It was never easy answering a question like that. How were you supposed to twist your life into something interesting when you were anything but? All you had done since the dinner at her house was work, and if you weren’t working then you were sleeping with whatever free time you managed to scrounge up. No, the only things worth telling her were the things you couldn’t tell her, but it wasn’t like that was anything new. You had gotten so good at lying, you could almost convince yourself that you were just a very good storyteller. 

Almost. 

“Just work, mostly,” you excused. 

“Oh, come on,” Row groaned. She took a quick sip of her drink (rum, as she made sure to point out) before overdramatically leaning back in her chair. “You always say that. It really is just work with you, huh? Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you get out? Try to talk to people?” 

You nearly laughed at her questioning. Out of anyone in the world, Row should have known about your inability to really keep friends around. After so many years of knowing one another, those questions almost made it seem like the two of you were strangers. Maybe you were, in some way. 

“I think we both know that getting out is more your thing than mine,” you said, attempting a bit of humor. 

“It could be your thing too if you didn’t ditch me half the time I invited you somewhere,” Row countered, not as humorous. As if tasting her own venom, she sighed and leaned forward, face softer. “I meant what I said the other night. You are worrying me. More than a little.” 

In order to give yourself some time to think, you raised your cup off the table to take a small sip, only to instantly regret it. Your childish, as Row put it, vodka cranberry was about nine parts vodka and one part cranberry juice. For someone who couldn’t afford to drink all that often, it tasted worse than cough medicine on your tongue, and you nearly choked. 

“What’s there to worry about?” you asked. 

“What isn’t there to worry about?” Row countered. “I mean, you’re working yourself half to death, it seems like you never do anything for you- hell, I don’t even think you’ve managed to score a boyfriend, let alone make it to first-fucking-base.” 

“I think I’m doing just fine without a partner,” you interjected. 

“My point is,” Row continued, refusing to listen to whatever petty excuses you tried to muster, “I’m terrified you’re still trying to punish yourself.” 

It was difficult to believe that a place so full of life could fall so silent, and yet the only sound you could hear was the ringing in your ears. Tinnitus, the doctors said. Normal. Typical. Absolutely plaguing. There was nothing you could say in response. Her words stunned you, because unlike usual, she saw right through you. At least she put you out of your misery and continued talking so that you didn’t have to. 

“Look, I… know we’re not really family. It’s not my place to say stuff like this, but it’s… fuck.” Row cut herself off with a chuckle and a slight shake of her head. “I know I didn’t know you before everything happened. Hell, you could have always been like this. But it’s concerning all the same. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for surviving.” 

It must have been the alcohol. Surely. Row never talked about the accident, and neither did you. After all those years, a silent rule had settled between the two of you where you would never speak of it. Not when the anniversary of it came around. Not even when the events plagued your sleep. It was easy to pretend you were quiet about it for Row’s sake rather than your own; but really, you didn’t talk about it because you were certain the guilt would choke you on its way out of your throat. 

“It’s not your fault, you know. For surviving,” Row continued. 

You swallowed. 

“I know,” you lied. 

Row raised an eyebrow at you incredulously, and you quickly forced a half smile on your face before she could chastise you for your sloppy deception. Usually you were better at lying, but she had caught you off guard in what you could only assume was quite literally a plea to get your shit together. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever not feel guilty about it, Row,” you said a bit more truthfully. “That’s the kind of stuff that stays with you. But I know it’s not my fault, and I’m not trying to self-sabotage or anything but I’ll… try harder.” 

A bittersweet smile crossed her face and you found your eyes adverting to the cup of bitter liquid in your hands in order to avoid the sight of it. She was much too caring for someone who didn’t deserve it. 

“Well, good. I know it’s more complicated than I’ll ever be able to understand, but I just want to make sure that you know you’re not alone in this. You’ll always have me, no matter what,” she finished, but the words rolled off of her tongue awkwardly. As if she had expected more of a fight from you. 

An awkward silence fell between the two of you after her strange attempt at a confession, yet everything continued to pulse around you. The music that vibrated the very air, the patrons who jumped and danced below you like a heaving pile of flesh; it all continued. The only thing that had changed was the stale scent in the air. 

“Well, what a way to ruin the fun, huh? Alright, enough sappy talk for the night, I promise,” Row chuckled as she adjusted the foam pirate hat on her head. “I’m just about empty. Wanna come with me for a refill?” 

Just like Row had claimed, she spent the rest of the evening getting wasted, and it didn’t take her long to get there. In a matter of hours her speech was so slurred her words blended into the mess of noise around you, and she could hardly hold herself steady when she brought you over to the pool table for what she promised was going to be a quick game. Her inebriation got so concerning you had all but forgotten your anxiety and discomfort in favor of paying extra close attention to your friend, lest she pass out while standing up. 

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you had something to focus on other than the prying eyes around you. Despite how late into the night it got, the club only seemed to grow more packed by the minute, and you were certain the roof of that place would pop off any moment. Row seemed completely immune to any outside forces as she sloppily leaned over the pool table and attempted to make her shot. Your pool game had gone on for at least forty minutes; half in part due to Row missing a majority of her shots, and half in part due to her not being able to shut up long enough to focus on hitting anything properly. 

“This table needs to stop leaning,” Row muttered. 

“It’s not leaning, you’re just drunk,” you corrected. 

“I know that,” she whined. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s leaning.” 

Playfully, you rolled your eyes at her just as she flubbed up another shot. She straightened herself up and attempted to adjust her crooked pirate hat, only to make it worse, though, she didn’t seem to mind all that much as a grin crossed her lips. 

“Too bad Riley isn’t here to give us some pointers, huh?” she teased. 

There was something in the tone of her voice that sent a jolt through your body, and that familiar, yet confusing, heat coursed through your body again. Your skin recalled the way Simon felt against you, how his hands so carefully guided yours, how his voice rattled your eardrum so deliciously… 

“He seems busy with work,” you excused. 

Row’s grin quickly melted into something else at your comment. It wasn’t quite malicious, yet there was something off about it. Like she knew something you didn’t. 

“Shame,” she quipped. “The two of you seemed awfully comfy the other night.” 

Of course she would bring that up. Really, you had tried to forget about that event the entire week, but to no avail. No matter how much you distracted yourself, your mind would always wander back to his words and his warmth. The odd thing was, there wasn’t even anything lustful about it. It had just been the first time a man had touched you and hadn’t made your skin crawl. 

“He was just being helpful,” you claimed. 

“You know, you should just date him,” Row said, ignoring your comment. 

For a moment, all you could do was stand there and blink. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No, I’m being serious,” she slurred. “He’s a good guy, really. Quiet, too. Bit of an arse but I think you two get on well.”

“Row, I don’t think that’s-” 

“And you need someone to look out for you at home, too. Those apartments look like they’re falling apart at the seams, you’re gonna get fucking robbed one of these days.” 

“Really, it’s-”

“He also seems to be having a much better time following us around now that you’re here. He never seems this interested when it’s just me.” 

Ice formed in your veins at her comment, and you found yourself standing there dumbfounded. Following us around? You couldn’t even bring yourself to attempt to look around for him, you were stunned and in too much disbelief to even process it that far. As for Row, her words seemed to have the exact effect she had hoped for, and she didn’t even attempt to hide her grin from you. 

“What? You mean you haven’t noticed your little shadow?” she teased as she gestured to the area behind you. 

It was only then that you braved a glance over your shoulder, and you felt your throat grow dry at the sight of Simon. He sat at one of the small round tables in a chair that obviously didn’t fit him right. Long legs stretched out to the side in order to accommodate his height, and he slouched back something fierce as if he attempted to make himself appear smaller. Luckily his attention seemed to be absorbed by his phone, which casted a dull glow on his face. You weren’t sure you could handle it if you looked back at him just to find him already staring. 

“John likes to send him as a guard dog whenever I come here, since things can get a little crazy sometimes,” Row explained. “I promise he’s not being a weirdo. Not on purpose, anyway.” 

Things only got worse after that. Her teasing, her insisting that you try to talk to him, her drinking. Her words and insinuations made your mind spin more than the small sips of alcohol you allowed in your system, and your only saving grace was that John crawled out of his office half past midnight in order to wrangle her in. It was impossible to talk sense into her, it seemed. You watched awkwardly from the sidelines as John steadied your friend by her hips, trying to keep her from swaying too much. All Row could do was giggle as she pulled at John’s shirt in an attempt to kiss him. It was a miracle that she hadn’t gathered too much attention with the scene she caused, but you still found your eyes flickering around the area as if danger lurked just beyond where the light could reach. 

Though you got severe secondhand embarrassment from it all, there was something a little endearing about it all. John’s patience with her was unmatched, and you found him grinning at her more often than he chastised her. They acted as if they were the only two people in the entire building, and you wondered what that must have felt like. To not be so on edge that you felt and saw everything at once. To be so carefree that not even the hellish cheers coming from below could distract them from one another. 

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

You hadn’t even realized Simon had approached you until his fingertips rested on the wood of the pool table in front of you. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to him, but you tried not to stare too long, lest he read every thought hiding in your mind. 

“Huh?” you asked; not because you hadn’t heard him, but because you were somewhat perplexed by his offer. 

“Thought we could give the lovebirds over here some alone time,” he chuckled. 

Everything in you screamed no. Despite his apparent kindness to you and Rows - inebriated - trust in him, you still didn’t exactly know Simon. All he really was to you was a stranger. A kind one, but something unknown all the same, and following a stranger outside always seemed like a bad idea. Still, the air in that building had suffocated you since the very moment you stepped inside, and maybe you were a little too grateful to have an excuse to leave for a little while.

Toward the back area of the VIP section, there was a heavy door that led out to a terrace that overlooked part of the alleyway and the street below. Plenty of people still mingled about, though they appeared much more laid back than the people inside. Cold autumn air chilled your feverish skin as Simon guided you underneath a canopy of lights that hung above your heads and towards a thick metal railing. 

The cold iron felt nice in the palm of your hands, and it was only then that you realized how exhausted you were. Over ten hours of your day had been spent at work, slaving away on your feet, and instead of being able to pass out once you got home, you had been stuck at that cursed club. Of course you adored Row, and you would do anything for her, but going through all that work and effort just to watch her get wasted wasn’t exactly what you’d consider a night well spent. 

“You smoke?” Simon asked as he shuffled his hand into the pocket of his jeans. 

You watched him carefully as he took out a pack of smokes and started beating the bottom of the carton against the palm of his hand. Little hints of the tattoo’s that covered his arms poked out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt, and you tried your best not to stare. 

“No,” you replied while you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“Good,” he hummed. “Don’t start.” 

It didn’t take long for him to light the thing and start puffing away. The scent of it surprisingly wasn’t as strong as you expected it to be, and he was kind in the way he ensured to blow the smoke well out of your way. 

“So, what’re you dressed up as?” he asked. 

You chuckled at his question and stared down at your work uniform. It wasn’t anything special. Just a plain black dress shirt along with matching pants. Black was always the color of choice in the serving industry. It was easier to hide stains that way, be it from food or sweat. 

“Oh uh, a Sapori hostess,” you replied humorously. “Didn’t really have time to change before getting dragged out here.” 

He hummed again. “Sapori. Heard that place is pretty fancy.” 

“It’s up there, yeah,” you concurred. 

“They pay well?”

“Sixteen.”

“Not great.”

You shrugged. “Pays the bills.” 

A sharp breath of air sounded from Simon as he inhaled another long draw from his cigarette, and it was only then that you realized that was probably the longest conversation that you had with someone that wasn’t either Row or someone from work. Not even Marco could force a conversation out of you for that long. It was odd. Foreign. Yet you didn’t want it to end. It was difficult to explain, but talking to Simon came natural, even with the insane heat he sparked inside of you. 

“What about you?” you asked. “I know you work for John, but what do you do for him?” 

“Security, mostly. And whatever odd jobs he assigns,” Simon answered. “Usually end up workin’ nights. Same as you, I imagine.” 

“Yeah, though I usually am off by midnight most nights.” You laughed as you answered his question, and you weren’t quite sure why. “I’d be in bed by now if it wasn’t for Row.” 

“Row?” Simon repeated. “What’d she do to earn a nickname like that?” 

“I could tell you, but I think I’d have to kill you afterwards,” you laughed. 

“Ah, one of those stories,” Simon chuckled. There was another pause in the conversation as Simon finished off the rest of his cigarette before tossing it onto the cement at his feet and stomping out the embers. “Alright, what about your name then, Chip?” 

You opened your mouth to answer him, only for your lips to instantly seal shut. Really, the story of your nickname was probably more embarrassing than Row’s, or maybe it only felt that way because it was tied to you. Like every little thing about you was pathetic and something to be hidden. 

“A while back, Row’s grandma invited us over for tea. The cup she gave me was broken just a little bit on the rim. I was too… I don’t know, nervous I guess, to ask for another cup so I drank out of the broken one the entire time. When Row found out she laughed so hard and said it was like that little teacup from Beauty and the Beast, Chip. She’s called me that ever since.” 

A quiet hum escaped Simon as he fully turned to face you. Without the cigarette between his fingers to distract him, he was able to give you his complete and undivided attention. The way he looked at you was strange, and you weren’t sure what to make of the odd churning in your stomach. It wasn’t sickening, nor skin crawling, but it made your insides feel as if they were on fire.

“Cute,” he commented. 

“Riley!” 

Both you and Simon turned at the calling of his name, and it didn’t take long for either of you to find the source. John marched out onto the terrace with Row stumbling behind him. She had somehow managed to lose her hat since you last saw her, though she didn’t seem too heartbroken about it as she threw her arms around you the moment you were within reach. 

“I missed you,” she slurred, rum heavy on her breath. 

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” you laughed. 

“Too long.”

“Riley,” John repeated again, ignoring his wife’s antics, “would you take the girls home for me? Don’t want them trying to head home alone when she’s this drunk. Take the car, since I’m sure you probably took your bike here, yeah?” 

The man fished a set of keys out of his pocket before handing them to Simon, who shook them around a bit as if he liked the sound of the jingle. “I’ll take care of ‘em.” 

Getting Row into her car proved to be a difficult task, though it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching Simon struggle into his seat. The poor man proved to be significantly taller than Row was, and he managed to bash the side of his head on the roof of the car. After some quiet cursing from him, and merciless giggles from Row, he managed to move the seat back far enough that he wasn’t completely scrunched over, and he took off once he ensured both you and Row were buckled in the back seat. 

“This is what you get for being so tall,” Row teased. “I mean, really. There is no reason for anyone to be that tall.” 

“You know, your husband is only a bit shorter than me,” Simon retorted. 

“Yeah, but he puts his inches somewhere more important than height,” she muttered, just low enough for only you to hear. 

By the time you had pulled into the driveway, Row had managed to sober up, but only slightly. Still, Simon made sure to step out of the driver's seat and walk around to the back side of the car in order to help her out. Once she was steady on her own feet, Row turned around to look at you, where she pointed her finger at you as if in warning. 

“Stay,” she ordered.

Confused, you glanced at Simon awkwardly before looking back at her. “Aye, aye, captain.” 

Once you gave your confirmation, she slammed the door shut behind her and allowed Simon to lead her inside of the house. It only took her about three failed attempts to get the keys in the lock so that they could enter the dark and quiet house. Simon was going to leave then, as she had gotten into the house plenty fine. He knew that Row was more than capable of taking care of herself for the night, despite her state, but before he could even turn around, she turned to face him with her hands on her hips. 

“Chip,” she spoke, “I want you to keep an eye on her.” 

Dumbfounded, Simon raised a brow as he crossed his arms in the doorway. “Of course.” 

“I don’t just mean tonight,” Row corrected. “I mean, even after tonight. Every day or so if you can manage it.” 

Now, that request truly did confuse him. He had only met you two times, and you seemed plenty capable of taking care of yourself. You were a grown woman, after all, yet Row attempted to make it seem like you were some helpless creature. Then again, he had only met you two times; there wasn’t a whole lot he knew about you, and Row wasn’t one to be overly dramatic. If there was something about you that worried her, it was worth at least hearing her out. 

“She alright?” he questioned. 

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Row sighed. She rubbed at her eyes as if she could remove the drunken haze that clogged her vision. “It’s difficult to tell with her. She’s really good at keeping things hidden, but I just know something’s wrong. I’d just… feel a lot better if you were able to look out for her.” 

Keeping an eye on what was essentially his boss’s wife’s sister wasn’t exactly how Simon imagined spending his time, but you seemed like a nice enough girl. Nodding his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets as he glanced behind his shoulder at the car you sat in. After all, there were only two things Simon Riley was good at doing; fighting, and protecting. 

“Consider it done.” 

Once Simon was done dropping Row off, his next objective was ensuring you got home. The drive to your apartment was much quieter than you had expected, but with it nearing two in the morning you were too tired to say anything coherent. Simon seemed to read this, and instead turned up the volume on whatever radio station Row had been listening to when she picked you up from work. 

You must have nodded off during the drive, because the next thing you knew, your door opened up and Simon stood with his hand stretched out for you to take. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you took his hand and allowed him to help you out of your seat before you started digging through your uniform for your keys. 

“Thank you for the ride, Simon,” you said once you had them in hand. 

“No problem,” he replied, though he didn’t look like he was getting ready to leave. It wasn’t until he glanced at the old, somewhat dilapidating, building that you realized he intended to walk you to your door, just like he had done with Row. “Which floor do you live on?” 

Each step that you took up to the third floor was grueling, and you would have taken the lift had it not been out of order for the last two months. Your feet throbbed with every movement, and by the time you made it to your door you were ready to pass out. Your keys slid into the lock with ease, and with a simple turn of the knob the door swung open to reveal your studio apartment. A few dim lamps were the only light source for the area, but it was more than enough for you to function in to get ready for bed. 

As you turned to face Simon, ready to dismiss him so you could get some well earned sleep, you noticed his  attention had been drawn to your door. Everything in that building was near ancient, but your door and windows were probably the worst. Peeling paint, and rusting brass plagued the door, but he seemed more interested in the plating on the frame. 

“Find something interesting?” you questioned. 

“More concernin’ than anythin’ else,” he muttered in response. His fingers brushed against the old metal plating, and his nails scraped at the screws holding it in place. “How long ago were these replaced?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve no idea.” 

“I’ll get you new hardware,” he said as he straightened himself up. “Someone could sneeze on the damn thing and it would fall over.”

There were a million words that flooded into your mind on why he didn’t need to do that, and you were certain they would have left your mouth had you not been so exhausted. Instead of trying to deny his words, all you could do was yawn as you glanced towards your bed, which had been shoved into the far corner of the room. You were about ready to pass out in the spot you stood in. 

“Get some rest, yeah?” he prompted as he placed his hand on the doorknob. 

You turned to face him with a smile, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. The light of the hallway casted a dark shadow on his face, and yet his look of quiet concern still appeared so soft. A small smile graced your lips before you were able to stop it, and you gave him a curt nod. 

“I will. Goodnight, Simon,” you said, voice nearly at a whisper. 

Even though he was a tall and intimidating man, you did not feel the least bit of fear as you watched him stand in your doorway. Any other time, you most likely would have felt trapped if a large man blocked you from exiting your home, yet there was nothing insidious about Simon. Especially not the small smile that managed to tug at his lips as he began to shut the door. 

“Sweet dreams, love.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader

[rani-ki]

pov: you're a hostess at a nightclub but your patrons forgot about you 🥂

#kazumaji #fanart #art #artist on tumblr #rani-ki #rani__ki #rgg #yakuza #ryugagotoku #majima goro #kiryu kazuma

[jimmy-dipthong]

Really good anime translation: コタローは一人暮らし

I complained in a post a while ago about how I mostly think english translations of anime aren’t very good, and @japanwords asked me if there were any anime I know of that have good translations. I don’t actually watch that much anime so I didn’t have a good answer, but recently I found one that really fit the bill: 『コタローは一人暮らし』or “Kotaro lives alone”

For those who haven’t seen it, it’s a show about a 5 year old kid who lives alone without any parents or guardians, and makes friends with his neighbours in the apartment complex (a lazy manga artist, a woman who’s a hostess at a local nightclub, and a scary yakuza who finds Kotaro unbelievably cute). These friends end up helping Kotaro when he needs someone to act as a guardian, such as when he enrols at the local kindergarten.

The other thing you have to know about Kotaro is he speaks like a Japanese feudal lord.

This really is the crux of what makes the translation so good, because how the hell do you translate that?! The way they chose to do it is by using archaic english phrases. He kinda speaks like a Victorian era gentleman, and he sometimes even verges on sounding like a stereotypical medieval knight. This works perfectly, because Kotaro is actually imitating a character from his favourite cartoon: a samurai hero/feudal lord. Let’s look at some examples:

「放すである」 "Unhand me!"

A simple example to start with, I thought it might be interesting to compare how a 5 year old might actually say this, and how I would translate that:

「放してー！😭"」 "Let goooo! 😭"

Even though the japanese uses the same verb (放す), the english translation is completely different. The choice here to make it “unhand me” (much more evocative of a time period) instead of just “let go of me” (simply a longer way of saying it) is a perfect example of the care this anime puts into its translation.

狩野：「美月さん、アイス食べます？…… あれ？」 “Hey, Mizuki. Would you like an ice cream cone? …… Hello?” 美月：「アイスをもらうけど私、狩野くん誘ってないんだよなぁ」 “While I appreciate the ice cream, you know you weren’t actually invited, Karino.” コタロー：「お邪魔である」 “Interloper.”

邪魔 is a notoriously difficult word to translate, and the natural-sounding corresponding english phrase will vary quite wildly depending on the situation. In non-feudal lord speech, it usually gets translated to something like “you’re getting in my way” or “get out of here” or even “you’re a burden” (my least favourite).

Here, it’s creatively translated as “interloper”! A great way of sneaking in some archaic english while deftly handling a classically difficult-to-translate word.

コタロー：「わらわは写真が大の苦手なのだ」 “I am ill-disposed to having my picture taken!”

Here we have a slightly longer sentence which shows us a bit more of Kotaro’s unusual speech pattern. He uses the archaic first-person pronoun わらわ（妾）and often ends his sentences in なのだ. なのだ is not a particularly odd grammar structure to use, but it is unusual to use it unabbreviated (i.e. not shortening it to なんだ and/or adding よ to the end) especially when using it in speech rather than in writing. Not abbreviating it (as would be expected in a formal situation), but immediately contrasting that formality with the informal だ rather than です causes the speech to sound archaic without actually using any archaic vocabulary.

Now, if this show only translated the old-timey speech pattern well, I’d still call it a good translation. But the attention to detail and focus on natural sounding language extends to the other characters too!

Let’s take a look at an example of Karino’s speech. This is from ep 3; we already know a fair bit about who he is - a manga artist who doesn’t leave the house much (mostly works from home), usually wears comfortable clothes around, leaves things til the last minute and is generally a pretty lazy guy. I say this because the following translation doesn’t “work” (that is, the english and japanese wouldn’t mean the same thing) if it was spoken by a different kind of character.

phone rings 狩野：「担当さんかー」 “Oh great, it’s my editor” 狩野：「お疲れ様です、狩野です。… はい … 今日原稿を？はい、わかりました。じゃあ、後で」 “Hello, this is Karino. How may I help you? … Yes … Wait. Now, now? … Uh-huh, yes. Okay, thank you, I’ll be there soon.” コタロー：「どこか行くのか？」 “Do you need to go somewhere?” 狩野：「仕事。出版社に行く。今回もダメ出しされんのかな？」 “Yeah, I gotta go to work. There goes my day. … I’m sure he’ll just rip it apart like he always does.” 狩野：「あの人結構グサグサ刺さる事言うんだよなぁ」 “The way he criticises, it’s actually pretty hurtful.”

I really like this translation, it feels very clever and results in very natural sounding english. I said this wouldn’t work for a different character, but I think even for the same character, this translation wouldn’t work on ep 1 - the audience wouldn’t have the context for the translation to omit the specific words it does and get away with it.

For example, the line 「今日原稿を？」 directly refers to a manga draft, but the draft isn’t directly referred to in the english. But it ends up being ok, because we can infer that he’s handing in some sort of draft for review from a later line (”I’m sure he’ll just rip it apart…”). Also, 「出版社に行く」 directly states that he’s going to the publishing house, but the english simply refers to it as “work”. But we can infer this too - he’s going to see his editor, and since most of his work is drawing and writing, which he does at home, we know that when he says he’s “going to work”, he’s actually going to the publishing offices.

Prioritising the natural sound of the script over the specific details is a bold choice that really pays off, imo. This is some of the most natural english I’ve ever seen in an anime translation. I recommend checking it out if you’re interested!

#langblr #japanese #japanese language #language #translation #learning japanese #essay #jimmy blogthong

[yutahoes]

Polarity

Teaser -Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four

characters: mafia boss! Yuta Nakamoto x innocent! florist! reader

summary: While running away, you seemed to be moving closer to the man you were avoiding. Are you even heading to the right direction?

chapter word count: 2.5 k words

chapter genre: suggestive, a little fluff, a little angst

chapter warning: descriptive dirty thoughts (MC is down bad), alcohol, nightclub, a little jealousy? (but you didn't hear it from me)

a/n: Posting early because of the Yuta cover from Cut Magazine. I don't know where this is going but I hope you'll like this chapter.

There are a lot of triggers that don't sit well with minors so please keep in mind that some scenes are disturbing and purely fictional. Inspired by Koi to Dangan.

taglist: @sourirensoleille @kyuprincess @nuoyipeach @anonjyxd @a-bts-world @a-place-filled-with-random @smolbeanieee @yumilovesavocado @imnotsureokay @dhaly-g @spicyryujin @doodoodove @blueeyedlove-blog1 @kosmoreads @joepomonerof @calipsou @yutadae @juungvely @hangyeomcult @cherrphoenix @itsyntt

“Y/N,”

He whispered against your ear causing the hairs behind your neck to rise up in goosebumps. His lips hovering above you, his breathing hot and rugged. “Y/N…” You didn’t know your name could sound that erotic.

His scent engulfs your senses: the mixture of musky cologne, sweat, and the pungent smell of blood. The feel of his tongue on the side of your neck ignited a fire inside of you. His fingertips against your skin feel so hot that it burns where he touches you.

“Y/N, I want you.” 

You opened your eyes followed by a loud gasp as if your breathing was knocked out of you. You feel feverishly hot, sweat soaking your body. What was that about? You breathed heavily at the vivid image of the mafia boss from your dreams. His black hair, his piercing eyes, his red lips, his tongue. Wait, hold up. Do not think of that last thing, Y/N. 

But it feels so real. 

You glanced at the spot on the back of your hand, the spot where he licked the salt from before, and felt it pulsating. Why does your skin still remember how soft his tongue is? 

And when you close your eyes, you can see his smile and hear his laugh. The ringing of his voice calling your name kept repeating in your ear as if it were an illusion.  

This is so crazy. He’s making you crazy. 

This is bad.  So bad.

“You look bad,” You stared at Sophie in surprise. Is it that obvious that you had a sleepless night because of Yuta? You sighed, maybe it is. “Are you not comfortable with working in the club?”  

Frantically, you shook your head. It was the opposite, rather. You were never that close with a lot of girls before. The waitresses were so kind to you, always complimenting and saying that you’re doing a great job. The hostesses were also friendly to you, except for Lexi who seemed to hate you so much. But then, like what Aeri claims, she does hate everyone. “I’m just too occupied lately.“

“Is it a guy?” Yes. “A customer in the club?” Yes. And he’s a mafia boss. “Don’t tell me it’s your dad again.” 

You smiled then nodded. Another white lie. Ever since you met Yuta, you have been lying a lot.

And you were reminded of him once again. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you shook your head, trying to focus and desperately staying away from the thought of him. 

You might have the power of attraction. First, when you considered selling yourself, you were almost kidnapped and sold. Second, when you needed a high-paying job, you found Sophie’s friend which is Aeri. 

Then, there’s Yuta Nakamoto. 

You were so guilty of the dirty intrusive thoughts forming in your mind that you cannot look him in the eye. Why is he even here today? Normally Mark will accompany the young girl or the kind middle-aged lady who you saw with her back in the mansion. Why is the mafia boss with her today? 

Sophie was the one entertaining them and you were just standing by the counter, trying your very best to not look at him. 

But how can you do that when he’s wearing an all-black ensemble with his leather jacket and a tight-fit shirt that highlights his chest? How can he look so good in those clothes?  

He’s just a typical customer, Y/N. He’s not the guy you were dreaming about. 

But you’re having a hard time convincing yourself when he turned to you holding jasmines and lavenders. It’s not the clothes, you thought. He does look good. Too good. 

Focus, Y/N. 

Your eyes wandered to the little girl looking at you with a beaming smile on her face. If only you can speak to her. Immediately, you took a piece of paper and wrote ‘Hi, do you want to pack the flowers with me?’ and then showed it to her. You noticed that during the first three times she entered the shop, she watched you carefully pack the flowers she ordered. The next time, with the help of Mark, she was resting her elbows on the counter where you were working. 

The young girl looked at the man she was with then smiled when he nodded at her. Excitedly, she ran to your side and you prepared a small chair for her to stand on. You didn’t actually know her name but it would be weird to ask for it. All of them, Mark and the older woman who sometimes come with her, just refer to her as ‘young lady’. So maybe you’ll just settle on that. Besides, you’re not in the position to ask about it anyways. 

You gestured at the wrapping papers, wanting to ask for her choice of color but she only gave you a confused look. It would be nice if you speak the same language. Quickly, you scribbled on the paper asking her what color she wanted for the paper and the ribbon. She chose a light pink wrapping paper and white ribbon which perfectly compliments the combination of violet and white flowers they chose. A smile escaped your lips as you watched her little fingers put the ribbon around the bouquet. These are very fragrant flowers and the color fits so well with her white dress. 

“You look so pretty.” You pat the top of her head gently, smiling at her. A wide smile can be seen on her lips and you were reminded of how much she looked like Yuta when smiling. You blinked in realization. They always address her as ‘young lady’ and she looked like Yuta. She must be Yuta’s child. Then that means he is married. Why are you thinking erotically of a married man? 

Your eyes diverted to Yuta’s fingers. If he truly is married, there should be a ring on his finger. But there were multiple rings on his finger that made you gulp. How would those cold metal feel against your skin as he touches you? 

“Y/N.” Sophie called that snapped you back to your senses. Your eyes went to Yuta’s who was looking at his fingers and then at you while cocking his head to the side, an eyebrow raised as if asking you a question. He caught you staring at him. This is bad. “Are you still sleepy?” 

You shook your head then started the cash register, telling Yuta the price of the flowers. He handed you a black card and you marveled at the veins along the back of his hand and his dark leather watch. The visual looks so good that you can just imagine him touching you roughly. You want that leather watch on his wrist as he touches the sensitive parts of your body.  “Are you working tonight?” Once again, your senses came back. You should really stop daydreaming like this. You only nodded, not fully understanding his question, before returning his card. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

The young girl waved her hands excitedly as the two left the shop and you were just as dumbfounded as earlier. “What was that?” Sophie asked as you let out a heavy sigh. What is wrong with you? It’s affecting your job. You wouldn’t be surprised that Sophie will be mad that you messed up this customer’s order. “You and Mr. Nakamoto…” Wait, she knows him? “Are you together?” 

What? “No.” 

“Then what was that? 'I’ll see you tonight'? Do you know each other?” 

Maybe this is your chance to come clean to your friend. A chance to lessen the white lies you have been saying to others. So you shared how your father owed money to him and that it was the reason why you asked to work in the club. You even shared that he’s a VVIP in the club and that he saw you there once. Although you missed a few details, it felt good that you somewhat told someone about this. 

“Then why is he looking at you like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“He looks at you like he wants you.” 

You shrugged. “He wants to kill me, that’s why.” 

Sophie chuckled. “No, Y/N.” She started with a haughty smile. “From the way he looks at you, I think he wants you. Period.”

No. You shook your head. That is impossible. 

Yuta is a married man. Yuta has a child. He frequents the club which even earned him the VVIP status. He’s a player. And most of all, Yuta is a mafia boss. 

Why would someone like him want someone like you? 

You laughed at the idea. That was so stupid. The funniest thing you heard in your life. 

Then why are you so disappointed that the VIP room where you’re assigned is for a different customer? He isn’t that bad. A businessman who often travels abroad and is just looking for someone to brag about his journeys to. His story of how pristine the waters are in the Maldives and how majestic the mountains of the Alps make you want to travel the world as well. But for now, you’ll settle on just listening to stories of actual people who can afford to go to those places. 

You desperately try to listen to his stories and laugh at his jokes. But all that was running through your mind is the term 'I’ll see you tonight'. Why would he say that if he wouldn’t come tonight? Is he here already? Maybe in the special VIP room? And with his favorite hostess, Lexi. 

Should you consider being a hostess and charm Yuta? 

The assigned hostess came to your customer and he thanked you for keeping him company, giving you some cash while tapping your shoulder. To your surprise, Mama greeted you outside the hallway. “Mr. Nakamoto is requesting for you.” You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling too wide. “And he requested the special room with the comfiest bed as well.” What? The statement made you blink in surprise. Why would he do that? 

Mama was just smiling as she walked you to the VIP room. She gently knocked on the door and came Yuta’s voice telling her to come in. “Good luck, Y/N. You’ll need it.” 

Your palms felt sweaty as you greeted the mafia boss who was seated on the couch. His leather jacket from early the day was discarded on the handrest beside him and you gaped at the black muscle tee he is wearing. “Please sit down.” He gestured for the space beside him. “Busy night?” 

You shook your head. It’s still kind of early so the customers aren’t coming in yet. “Mama said it’s the comfiest bed. Take a rest if you need to.” Take a rest? Why? “Earlier, your boss said that you’re sleepy. You should sleep now.” 

Wait, that’s why he asked for the comfiest bed? Of course, Y/N, what were you thinking? Are you expecting for something more? “I’m fine. I’m still clocked in for work so I can’t…” 

“If you’re worried about Mama, I can assure you that she won't get mad at you.” He claimed then drank some of the liquid in his glass. From the looks of it, he settled on Brandy tonight. “Besides, it’s me who requested that you rest.” 

But you didn't need to. You didn’t want to. You wanted to spend some more time with him. “I’m fine, really.” 

He leaned on the couch, giving you a side glance. “Suit yourself.” He finished the remaining of his drink and you were quick to refill it with the liquid he was drinking. “How was the job here? Is it tiring?” You wondered why he’s curious about that. And what exactly are you going to say to him? That you are getting paid to listen to those men who wanted to brag about themselves? 

You only shook your head then smiled. “It is a nice experience,” you mumbled, “I’ve always thought of hostesses and what they do in a negative light but I realize how important they are. They’re like therapists.” You grinned then remembered what Aeri told you, “Half-naked therapists.” A chuckle can be heard beside you, the side of Yuta’s lips curled up. “They’re really cool in that aspect.” 

“So you wanted to be one?” 

You shook your head, laughing. “I’m not fit to be a hostess. Have you seen how pretty they are? Lexi even looks like a Greecian Goddess…”   

Yuta snorted which made you look at him. What was that reaction? “Every girl is pretty in their own way, Y/N.” You noticed how he reached for the glass using his right hand then hissed before quickly changing it to his left hand. “Every girl is pretty half-naked.” 

But you didn’t even hear that statement and reached out for his right hand. Earlier, he was wearing the leather watch on that wrist but now it's gone. “What happened to your wrist?” It looks so swollen that it's almost purple in color. You took a block of ice from the bucket before placing it on his right wrist. It looks so painful. 

“A wrong punch to someone’s face.” You hissed. That must really hurt a lot. “It’s nothing, Y/N.” 

“Did you at least let Jaehyun see this? You should ask him to check…”  

“Do you like Jaehyun?” 

You looked up in surprise but were startled that you were almost near his face. His eyes were sparkling. It must be the lights. His eyes are normally piercing, deadly. But why does it look so soft as he looks at you? 

You lightly coughed, feeling the cold ice melting on your fingertips. “Jaehyun?” You laughed then shook your head, removing the melted ice and replacing it with another block of ice. “He knows the right words to say, I’m convinced he’s a playboy.” Yuta drank the brandy in his glass in one shot, not reacting to what you said. “And my dad would kill me if I ever get associated with the mafia.” You stopped, realizing what you just said. That is so offensive that you quickly regret spewing those words. 

“Of course,” Yuta claimed in a soft voice, “Fathers don’t want their daughters to be associated with the mafia.”  

Your mind was swirling. Yuta is married. Yuta is a dad. Yuta is a mafia boss. His daughter is associated with the mafia. 

You just stepped way beyond the line. “Could you check if Lexi is done with her VIP?” You just angered the mafia boss. You only nodded, stood up then bowed at him. 

Why are you so stupid, Y/N?  

The Greecian Goddess came in her tight-fitting black mini dress and red stilettos. Lexi really looked so pretty. She fits so well with Yuta. “You’re becoming Mr. Nakamoto’s favorite,” she claimed. You just stared at her. What should you even tell her? “But I should warn you that Yuta is always like that to newbies.” Of course. It’s not like you’re expecting for more. 

Right? 

“Besides, he had never moved on from his first love.” 

The door opened and you got a glimpse of the piercing look from Yuta. 

Yuta is married. Yuta is a dad. Yuta might be cheating on his wife with Lexi. Yuta is a playboy. Yuta is a dangerous man. There are a lot of red flags that you can associate with the man. 

But the reddest of all red flags is him being the mafia leader. 

Chapter Five

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #mafia yuta #nct yuta #nct yuta nakamoto #nct 127 yuta #nakamoto yuta #polarity

[foolsocracy]

I love felicia. Why is she written like that. How is she so badly and well written simultaneously. I hate it. I hate her. Its bad. Its good. Why did they make her sleep with noir. Why is she reduced to an object. She's so much more than this and I know it. She's more than her relationships with men. But also they're so vital to her in ways no one understands. I'm crazy about her.

felica is unknowable. she is an enigma but ive been itching to talk about her.

There's a lot about her that I do really like! She has great bones for a complex character and if there was more source material I feel like she could have had more time to be understood and explored.

I really really wish that there was another woman present she could have riffed with. Spider noir is a man-fest which makes her really man-centric because thats all she's got to work with. Its a huge disservice! I do understand that nightclub life and working with powerful NY politicians and criminals will lend itself towards men, but come on now. Easy spot to throw Gwen into (fanfics love to do it lol), or even swapping the gender of someone else like they did with Jean DeWolfe.

I love that she runs a speakeasy which lets her get right in the middle of soo much information. And historically this can pull really well from 1920s hostesses.

In fact, one of the most highly developed skills of nightclub hostesses in New York was their ability to fleece unsuspecting customers. Trained by their bosses "to get as much information as possible from prospective suckers regarding their bank accounts and business," hostesses come on to male patrons with the express goal of "mounting the check." "After enough money is spent," one hostess recounted [...], the goal is to get "the sucker drunk and the works [will] follow." (Dry Manhattan)

[at high end speakeasies] these hostesses earned tips and commissions on the checks they mounted, often as much as one-third of the total, which could bring them from $150 to $400 a week. (Dry Manhattan)

And this was during a time when the average yearly income was $3,269.40. I could totally see her finding her way like that in the early 20s before opening up a place for herself w/ all that money. The only shitty part is it makes her an accessory to men, plus w most of the story being told from Peter's POV we aren't privy to her thoughts. I think because she's basically the only woman with agency that her narrative relationship with men is so bad tasting.

Her character has so much beneath the surface. She knows everything about everyone!! and we never get to see it because she's jaded and secretive and doesn't trust anyone like that, especially not a dumbass teenager with a death wish.

AND HER RELATIONSHIP WITH PETER. don't even get me started. 1) WHY? They didn't have to go there. I know I know its a noir trope. As per the BBC the first rule of Film Noir is "A Dame With a Past and a Hero With No Future." And the Spiderman Noir team committed to it. If only they didn't commit so hard to Felica making multiple comments about how much of a kid Peter was after she was introduced as his mentor's ex. There has to be at least like 15yrs of an age difference between them.

but theres also the flip side that the noirverse is obviously fucked. Media doesn't have to be 100% moral and whatnot (especially in a noir setting), but it doesn't mean i have to root for pete and felica as a romantic couple LMFAO. Ive seen people rewrite their relationship as the strangest, oddest, most fucked up dysfunctional family and you know what i'll take that.

even having that aspect of her character being something where its telling of her past/present, where she doesn't know how to separate pete, a (frankly) dangerous person she needs to keep tabs on and know his secrets, from everyone else she works with. She's been so deeply enveloped by her need to keep herself one step ahead, to have physical power over another in any way (the only way) she knows how, that this is the means she resorts to. but of course we dont know any of that because they didn't bother delving into her more. it does make for a dimensional character at the very least. now if only she wasn't the only main woman.. so that character arc doesn't seem so sexist. and if only pete wasnt so fucking young my gooodddd. but thats what we're working with. such is life

#she makes me crazzyy whyyyy #there is so much in my head i dont know how to get the words out tho #and before anyone raises an eyebrow im not defending her lmfao im just trying to piece together what we're already working with #tw age gap #felicia hardy #asks #anon #yeah if anyone wants to rationalize felica w me hmu im down to hash it out #thanks for the ask!

[nyxrev]

Details

Just some stuff I noticed, from small to serious.

旦那 (dan'na)

K so I found it funny Black Sperm calls Saitama “dan'na” bc the term can mean different by its context, eg. an honorific for husband, patron, or master, etc. I believe it's translated to English as “Boss” which is most fit but when I first read it I automatically associated it with “master” of the more softer nuances and not the rougher casual “hey boss” sort of vibe, so I was surprised like, huh BS is unusually deferential to Saitama, esp. bc the rest of his speech pattern is fairly casual. But, makes sense bc he's seen enough to know. Also makes sense bc on one hand, rn he has to pretend to be a benign, goofy “monkey” …idk how ppl see a black teletubby n just believe it's monkey but s'ok, story logic… to get by heroes, hence the casual goofy monkey speech, but on the other, he absolutely does not want to cross Saitama, so he chooses to refer to him politely.

master (of a house, shop, etc.)​

husband​: can be used to refer to your own, or smb else's husband (add honorifics). Some other ways of address: 夫 otto, 主人 shujin,

sir; boss; master; governor​: used to address a male patron, customer, or person of high status

patron of a mistress, geisha, bar or nightclub hostess; sugar daddy ​(パトロン)

alms; almsgiver:​ Buddhism, usually written as 檀那 for Buddhist context

As you can see, a non-exhaustive list of what it can mean. With automatic association to house -hold and patronage nuances, my mental image got mildly confused for a moment. Like can you really see an obeisant, nice little BS who humbly serves Saitama with utmost formality??

I feel myself make an uneasy face I cannot quite describe.

Also it was good to see him ask about Manako, but I do want to know if she's alive and safe.

Homewrecker? No it's (unlicensed) Demolition. Opennenoorn Get Out

^after the scene when Forte got hit, Fubuki told Saitama to go with her and said:

あなたの住処を破壊した張本人に会わせてあげる

Basically the reason she gave for their excursion was, “I'll let you meet the person responsible for the destruction of your residence.”

Whom I thought was Psykos bc at the moment, we saw parallel scenes of Tsukuyomi guy at her cell and Tatsumaki had not arrived, but Saitama doesn't know Psykos yet, so when Fubuki made her speech, Saitama confused without so much as context to who all the ppl on scene are, then Tatsumaki arrives most destructively, he must have thought it could be absolutely no other than the “chibi” who threw Genos on a wall.

Which is why Saitama went “I see, the one who destroyed my home was…(Tatsumaki) ಠ ◡ ಠ##”

But I had to wonder who did Fubuki really mean to refer to with “the person who destroyed your place”? If Fubuki meant Psykos how would Saitama react?

Fortress Haven or Death Maze?

Hige Coffee: lit. Beard Coffee (lol)

Well it's good to see Max and Shadow on break, but an emergency call cuts it short, and amidst the commotion, one of them (I assume it's Max) laments the place is so big it's easy to get lost.

What can I say, it's almost like the new HQ, with its concentrated yet puzzled pyramid structure, complete with a moat of self-isolation, remotely omniscient surveillance, a manufactured façade of paradise with luxury security atop seven hells of hidden disasters eager to be released, and so on…almost like it's a direct visual representation of HA's operation hierarchy: centralized system of power and economic monopoly, yet rife with office politics, factions at tension, dysfunctional management, corrupt unstable foundation, and unsavoury secrets to hide.

Cohesively staffed, an impregnable fortress. Yet improperly managed, an exit-less death maze.

And I say it bc the place is not only complicated and spacious but also uniform. Its grand Jenga-Lego stack of cluster structures look so similar, if not literally the same, from every angle, if you rotated it on a turntable, I couldn't tell the sides from each other nor which faced NESW at first.

Of course, part of why they got lost is, it's newly built, heroes just moved to residency, obviously, it's not out of expectation for heroes, or anyone who's never step foot there for the matter, to be unfamiliar with exact floor plan details of such a vast, complex structure, its design sleek at best and dystopian at worst.

But I must wonder, for I feel like it will become a problem later, HQ's isolated vast complexity… If it doesn't fall apart from its core first, what with overpowered resident, destructive visitors, and let's not forget the basement full of a nasty little monstrosity of pets the corrupt executives keep for cash flow they don't use to pay heroes.

Air and Blue Fire: Cyborg Surgery?

On a scale of beneficial to suspicious, question.

Notice the text right next to Air? It's an SFX.

キュイーン kyui—n (onomatopoeia): like a whirr sound effect, low sounds of machinery at work, usually small technical ones which contract or spin. For example, camera lens… how ominous, don't you think?

While Forte is eager to get out of bed and make a quick work of the noisy monsters who disturb his already bad day, blow off convenient steam, it looks like Air can't even emote natural, human facial expressions, and it unsettles me so!

If you look long enough it almost looks like he is controlled like a puppet Σ(-᷅_-᷄⁉︎)

As for BlueFire, I can't tell if it's an empty sleeve or a prosthetic arm but hopefully he got an arm with extra spicy flamethrower fingers so he can be extra terribly efficient. He'd probably max his specs to roast evildoers out of spite. I sense one step to Genos. Same age, similar personality.

Bonus: List of Every Hero Present

aka. faces you see the last moments of your life, if you happen to be a mischievous monster at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Top panel: Golden Ball, Spring Mustachio, Red Muffler, Funeral Suspenders, D-pad, bottom L hat prolly Gun Gun, Shooter, Smile Man, Skunk-Boy Gasmask, top L corner Eyelashes, Mohawk Hacker, Brass Knuckles guy, Great Philosopher, Magic Trick Man, Darkness Blade, Bones, prolly Blue Fire's back (front of Bones), All Back Man? (didn't he quit?), Butterfly DX, Kusari-Gama, Mushroom, Horse-Bone, Twin Tails, can't tell who the mop of dark hair next to her is but prolly Blizzard member, Tank-Top Al-Dente, Tank-Top Rockabilly, another two Blizzards by the suit,

Bottom: Eyelashes, Brass Knuckle, Spiked Club Blizzard, L- Max, Genji, Stinger, Tank-Top Mask, Tank-Top Racer, Crescent Eyebroll, Green, Wild Horn, Skunk Boy Gasmask, Tank-Top Al-Dente, Tank-Top Rockabilly, a sliver of Darkness Blade, Heavy Kong.

Fubuki Group? More like Mafia?

Look at how they stand. Look at how they walk. Look at their formation. If each of them were as strong as Needle Star got, fought as well as the support team cooperated, if equally valued and given opportunity to contribute their expertise, they truly would be formidable, fearsome foes, and reliable allies Fubuki can trust to hold their own and not constantly worry about. Of course part of the problem is Fubuki's own insecurities but we know she has the potential to be a great leader if she put her focus on the right path and used her power to maximum beneficial strategy

Counted around 33 members without Fubuki or Saitama. Rowdy Suit Gang. Mountain Ape n Lily stand out and you can see them from far away.

Extra Bonus: Spot the Spy 6-6

Nah cuz I really need to talk about the cursed Tsukuyomi guys. I brewed some praises n some toasty roasty jokes. I need to cook some wacky, juicy conspiracy about them. Just a little gentle speculation.

#opm #one punch man #opm manga #hero association #thoughts #saitama #overgrown rover #black sperm #tatsumaki #fubuki #forte #air #cyborg #body modification #organization #suspicious #blizzard group #traitors #among us

[hexpea]

Ch. 18 - A Mother's Relief

Kabuki-cho, the entertainment district best known for its host/hostess clubs was also a prime spot for restaurants, bars, and nightclubs. After the day's events, you were emotionally spent. You wanted to drink your sorrows away, something you hadn't done since your college days, before marriage even.

With the sun gone, you meandered the streets alone dressed in your best. Though things had been going poorly for you, to say the least, you had to admit that you felt...sexy. Here you were, still young, single, and quite beautiful. Dare you say, you felt tasty. There was a particular bar you had in mind, one from your college days that you used to spend your Friday nights with friends...and Masaru. The bartender there knew you by name and remembered your favorite drink. It felt good to reminisce on better times, the alcohol flooding your veins with a warm sensation. It didn't take very long for you to begin to see double. 

After a while, you felt the need to use the restroom. You turned on your bar stool and placed your feet firmly on the ground, double checking to make sure your heels had made it before looking up. That was when you saw...him. Toji's tall, dark figure stood against the bar. He was drinking what looked to be just soda while looking up at a television playing a rerun of a baseball game. He looked just as he did five years prior, scar prominent on his lip and defined muscles hidden beneath a black t-shirt. 

"Toji?" You asked, nearly slurring his name, as you stopped next to him. He stayed facing the television, taking another sip from his glass. "Toji Fushiguro?" You repeated, this time catching his attention.

He slowly turned toward you with a smirk, holding a cocky expression though his thoughts were filled with surprise to see you...and to see you so dolled up, especially considering it was the middle of the week. 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/N," he smiled through low lids, one arm propped on the bar top. 

"Toji," you shook your head in disbelief, seeing two of him through your liquor induced conscience, "where have you been?"

He remained silent and didn't answer with a flat expression, instead opting for a question of his own. "What brings you out to the red light this late on a Tuesday?"

You frowned deeply, already forgetting about your question. Your emotions poured like a flood, sudden tears flowing down your cheeks; you hardly worried about your mascara smudging down your cheeks. 

"Whoa, whoa," he chuckled, his voice low, "what's going on?"

You sighed to capture yourself, turning toward the bar to stand beside him. "Masaru took Tsumiki," your voice cracked as you held your closed fists on top of the bar. 

"That scumbag took her?" Toji asked for more clarification.

"He...came to the estate. In front of Naobito and with government officials. He served me custody papers saying the the Zenin estate was too dangerous for Tsumiki."

"And Megumi?" He asked a bit urgently.

"He's still there, I'm still taking care of him," you took a deep breath and looked over at Toji, your dark makeup surprisingly holding itself through your tears. "He should be asleep, he was when I left at least," you hiccuped. "The attendants there can help if he wakes up."

"So it sounds like Naobito paid them off because if it's 'too dangerous' for Tsumiki then it'd be 'too dangerous' for Megumi," he muttered, keeping his focus on you. His piercing gaze made your heart race just as it had those years ago. 

You felt your bottom lip quiver at the sudden realization. You didn't know why you hadn't thought of it earlier. It only made sense, why else would they be okay leaving an even younger child stay under your care at the so-called dangerous estate?

"I feel so stupid," you let your head fall into your hands as your body leaned on the bar.

"Come on," Toji removed himself from the bar and gently grabbed your wrist in the process to pull you along.

"Where are we going?" You asked, stumbling along with him, nearly rolling your ankle in the process. "I have to go to the bathroom!" You drunkenly whined. 

Toji remained silent as he guided you through the dimly lit, bustling streets of Kabuki-cho. "Don't worry, we'll get you to the bathroom in a minute. But first, I think you need something to eat and sober up a bit. Knowing you, you'd go to squat and fall right on your ass."

You stumbled along with him, feeling a mix of emotions and alcohol coursing through your veins. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn't believe you were sharing this moment with Toji after all of these years. Toji led you to a nearby ramen shop, one of those tiny places tucked away in a narrow alley. The fragrant steam from the bowls of ramen wafted through the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation. The cozy atmosphere and the smell of food were a welcome distraction from the turmoil in your life. He ordered a couple of bowls of ramen for both of you, and you sat down at the counter, still trying to process everything. As you slurped the delicious noodles and sipped on the savory broth, Toji watched you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Y/N," he said after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. "We need to figure out what to do about Tsumiki, for the sake of her and Megumi. This is more than just your ex messing with your life."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again. "I just don't understand why Naobito would do this. He's been so...supportive, in his own way, since you stopped coming around."

Toji leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "It's not real, Y/N. He does whatever he thinks is best for himself, even if it means hurting others; including those in his own clan. If he's willing to pay off the cops because Masaru became an inconvenience, I can only imagine what the future would mean for Megumi if he stays there. Not to mention...you."

You looked at him, seeing a depth of understanding in his eyes that surprised you. To you, especially after being abandoned, he was still a killer set in his ways. Your outings those years ago did nothing to change him, so why the concern now? "Toji, why did you leave?"

He shrugged, a hint of a smirk returning to his face. "I'm a man with a job. I have to make money one way or another." Something behind his eyes told you he was lying, but you didn't want to pry too far -- at least not yet.

You couldn't help but smile at his cocky attitude. It was both infuriating and strangely comforting. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

Toji chuckled, his smile devilish. "Some things never change."

After you finished your ramen, you finally used the restroom. When you returned, you felt slightly more sober and composed. The tears had stopped, and you were ready to face the situation with a clearer mind.

"Toji, thank you for being here," you said as you sat back down at the counter. 

He stayed quiet, his facial expression dropping. He abandoned you, so why were you thanking him? "Right, sure," he finally responded. "How are you feeling?" He wanted to make sure you were sobering up properly. 

"Fine," you nodded with a small smile, your composure easily returning to you. "As good as I can be."

"Good," he said sternly, "because I need you to know that I'm going to kill them. Kill them both."

#toji fushiguro x y/n #fushiguro toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[kankuroplease]

What are the uchihas night clubs like

Depends on which one you go to and what night

The main bar and lounge the Uchiha meet at would lool like this; luxury and clean. They have live Jazz bands and singers (such as Chiha). Not just anyone is walking into this one, and that’s what Fugaku and Mikoto love about it. Owned by Izuna but it’s co-owner/manager is Itachi

Then you have the more party scene nightclubs that is extremely popular. It’s loud, lively, themes change, and you can definitely get your hands on some drugs here. Owned by Itachi

Shisui’s resort purchase came with a nice swim up bar and also host night parties and looks something like this. Madara typically pays for Mito’s girl trips here when he’s made her mad. Obito likes it here too because it’s family friendly lmao

The hostess club where Madara use to frequent and ended up becoming a dad would look something like this. It’s expensive and they’re selective over who gets in. Oddly enough, this is the easiest place to find Izuna as he works out of the back office here

Itachi has a 24 hour cat cafe too. It’s a very hushed thing and where you can find Sasuke. Not a club but they do offer VIP members special rooms with their preferred cat.

#ask #tattoo shop au #tw drug mention #tsau: uchiha shisui #tsau: uchiha izuna #tsau: uchiha itachi #kpz tsau ℹ️

[ghostly-gifts]

🎃🌹 Trick or treat!!! 🏍️🎃

On this haunting Halloween night, @technicallyverycowboy has been haunted by the spooky ghost @justanothervariant, and they've left behind a treat!

A Different Game

by @justanothervariant

When Gun first asked him to keep an eye on Porsche, Vegas’s thoughts naturally turned to seduction. He’d used his attractiveness many times to gain an advantage, ferret out information or bring someone over to the minor family. Besides, Porsche was a handsome guy; this time, it might even be fun. 

Destiny seemed to be favouring him; on his next visit to the major family compound, Vegas spotted Porsche alone and struggling with his lighter. Vegas stepped up to his side, smoothly lit the cigarette and began his well-honed routine of smiles and flirtation. But instead of smiling back or blushing, Porsche looked distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn’t until Vegas dialled it down a notch that Porsche seemed to relax; an alarm tripped in the back of Vegas’s mind, and he realised that he might need to rethink his tactics. That evening he called on his main family informant, and within the hour he had a copy of their comprehensive dossier on Porsche Pachara Kittisawasd.

Vegas skimmed over the details of Porsche’s martial arts training, his family background, his educational history. His attention snagged on a note that Porsche had worked for years at a local nightclub called Hum Bar. The staff and regulars would be able to tell Vegas far more about Porsche than any dossier, so he put on his favourite shirt and went to see it for himself. 

The owner, resplendent in sequins and leather, welcomed him with a wide smile and literal open arms. “Welcome, welcome, always nice to have such stylish guests!” she beamed. “My name is Yok, your hostess for the evening. This is your first time here, I’m sure - I’d remember that handsome face for certain.”

Vegas smiled, immune to the flattery. “Actually, I’m here because one of my friends told me about a bartender that works here - Porsche, is it?”

“Ah, sorry khun, Porsche isn’t working tonight,” Yok said, with a regretful cluck of her tongue. “But we have many other talented servers to help you. I’ll introduce you to Mo, he’s a genius with cocktails.” She signalled to one of the bartenders and said, “Mo, this gentleman is an honoured guest this evening, be sure to serve him well.” 

“Of course. What can I get you, khun?” asked Mo.

Vegas slid a folded 1,000 baht note across the bar and asked, “Can you tell me any more about this Porsche? I’d really love to meet him.”

Mo’s eyes locked onto the money, but he said regretfully, “Oh, well…sorry, khun, but Porsche is my friend. I don’t think I should tell you anything without asking him first.”

Vegas nodded to hide his irritation, then added a second note. “I see. Well, at least tell me this - is it even likely that he’d be interested in me, or are his tastes more…conventional?” 

The bartender glanced around, then snatched up the money and said, “I’ve only ever seen him leave with female guests, so sorry.”

Vegas turned away, the man already dismissed in his mind. His informant had seemed sure that there was some interest between Kinn and Porsche, but perhaps it was only on his cousin’s side. Perhaps Porsche was straight, or closeted, or had just never experimented with a man before. Whatever the truth, Vegas realised that going into full seduction mode was more likely to spook him than win him over. Malicious delight shivered through him as he imagined Kinn’s graceless attempts to woo Porsche, the possessiveness and entitlement that would be so off-putting to a guy with no experience. Vegas smiled to himself, a new plan already settling into place.

To win Porsche over, first Vegas would have to become his friend.

* * *

Vegas was used to getting quick results. Whoever he put his mind to pursuing - Kinn’s exes, Gun’s business contacts, random strangers in clubs - sooner rather than later, they gave in to him. It made his slow, subtle wooing of Porsche a novelty, but one he found himself enjoying immensely.

When Gun next visited his brother for lunch, Vegas went to say hello to the bodyguards but didn’t linger. He made small talk, tried to appear genuinely interested in their responses, and didn’t focus on Porsche more than anyone else. Kinn and Tankhun both gave him suspicious glares but he smiled and shrugged it off, noting Porsche’s frown at Kinn’s possessiveness.

At the diamond auction, he delighted in the palpable awkwardness between Porsche and Kinn; his cousin looked out of his depth, despite his pretty friend’s attempts to encourage him. When Kinn smiled at Porsche like he was suffering from indigestion, Vegas could hardly believe his good fortune. To capitalise on the weirdness between the two of them, Vegas gave specifically worded instructions to his mole on the bar staff then collected a small glass of clean water and took it to Porsche.

When Porsche was reluctant to take it, Vegas said, “I know you’re on duty and don’t have much time for breaks, that’s all. But no problem, I’ll take it back.”

“No, wait,” Porsche said, his face betraying all of his emotions as he wavered before finally taking the drink. He downed it hastily, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Thanks.”

Vegas nodded. “We’re not so harsh with our people in the minor family. Standing around all night, you’ll get thirsty. You should be able to go and grab a drink.”

Porsche’s smile was quick, reluctant. He gestured to his earpiece and said, “I get shouted at for not standing up straight enough, never mind leaving my position.”

“My cousin always was more of a stickler for conformity,” Vegas said, adding a note of regret to his tone. “But to me, you’re a person first and a bodyguard second.”

Vegas saw the moment his words snagged in Porsche’s brain, the hint of surprise and gratitude. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you focus,” Vegas said, briefly laying a hand on Porsche’s shoulder. “Remember, though, that your own needs are as important as anyone else’s.”

“Yeah, okay,” Porsche nodded.

Later, sitting in his booth surveying the crowd of rich idiots and bootlickers, he saw Porsche staggering from the room and nodded to his men to follow. They knew what to do, where to take Porsche. A word from his inside man would send Kinn up to the Imperial Suite, where he’d find Porsche passed out ‘drunk’ on duty. Repercussions would follow, punishment guaranteed, the wedge between Kinn and Porsche driven ever deeper.

Vegas allowed himself a smile as he settled back and sipped his champagne; so far, his plan was working beautifully.

* * *

A couple of days later, once the dust had settled, Vegas messaged his informant for an update. It was a surprise when, instead of just replying, Ken showed up at the compound to give a report in person. 

Vegas took Ken into his office, shut the door and asked, “What’s so important that you had to risk coming here yourself?”

“I thought you’d have questions,” Ken replied, his gaze dipping to Vegas’s lips.

Vegas sighed; this was a complication he didn’t need. “I see. Go ahead, then.”

“Porsche was right where you said he’d be,” Ken said, grinning. “Kinn looked like he’d been slapped when he saw him, sprawled out and snoring on that big fancy bed. He made us leave while he sobered Porsche up.”

“And he believed that Porsche had wandered in there and passed out drunk?”

“Yes, I said I saw him drinking earlier. Khun Korn was furious, so Kinn gave him to me and Big for his punishment,” Ken said, malicious delight glinting in his eyes.

“I’m sure you didn’t make it pleasant,” Vegas said wryly.

“It was brutal,” Ken said with relish. “I fucking loved it.” His spiteful glee was almost charming, but marred by his obvious, pathetic hunger for praise. 

Ken went on to give a full report of the main family’s business for the last few days, Vegas interrupting a few times for clarification or more details. When they were done, Vegas said, “Thanks for all the intel. We really do appreciate it. And remember, if Porsche goes out anywhere without Kinn, call me immediately.”

“I will, khun,” Ken said, hovering despite the dismissal.

“Was there something else?” Vegas asked, disquiet stirring.

Ken licked his lips. “It’s just…I’m off duty tonight, so I thought we could - ”

“No,” Vegas interrupted. “Not tonight, I have too much to do.”

“You said that last time,” Ken said, a hint of a whine in his voice, then in English. “It’s been ages, Vegas. I miss you.”

Vegas managed, somehow, not to roll his eyes. Instead he reached out to run his thumb across Ken’s pouting lower lip. “I know. I miss this mouth, believe me. But Pa has given me a very important task, and I need to focus. It won’t be much longer, I promise.”

Ken’s tongue darted out to lick Vegas’s thumb. “Maybe I could just blow you, then? I’ll get you off real fast, I swear.”

His bratty eagerness was tempting, but Vegas shook his head. “I said no. Do we need to do some more discipline training?”

“No,” Ken said immediately. “Fine, not tonight. But soon, right?”

“Do you think I’m a liar, Ken?”

Ken swallowed. “No, Khun Vegas.”

Vegas smiled. “Good boy,” he said, knowing it would make Ken shudder, viciously delighted when it did. “Now run along. I have a lot of thinking to do.”

* * *

When Vegas got the call from Ken, he dropped everything and drove over to Hum Bar. As he’d predicted, Porsche was awed by his new motorbike and needed only a little prodding to take it for a drive.

“Where shall we go?” Porsche called back to him as they sped down the floodlit roads.

“Anywhere you want,” Vegas replied, wrapping his arms around Porsche and leaning into the warmth of his back.

It was exhilarating, riding with Porsche. He drove fast and took risks, but handled the bike deftly enough that Vegas could relax and enjoy it. Vegas reminded himself that this was just part of a plan, but it was hard not to get caught up in Porsche’s enthusiasm, in the freedom of driving into the night not knowing where he was going. Elation bubbled up in his chest, dizzyingly bright, and he raised a fist and a cry into the night sky. He caught Porsche’s grin, couldn’t help laughing; he didn’t feel like himself, suddenly, in an oddly comforting way.

Eventually Porsche pulled into a small parking lot down beside the river. The surrounding businesses were shut and there was nobody around as they settled onto a bench overlooking the river. The breeze was fresh, lifting Vegas’s hair gently. The water lapped below them, its soft susurration calming and kind. Lights twinkled in the water, a string of headlights streaming across the bridge nearby, but here it was dark and quiet with only a little light to show him Porsche’s face.

He looked happy, at first, his cheeks pink and his smile wide. It was disarming, genuine and honest, aimed at Vegas without intent or agenda. Vegas told himself that it was a weakness; his heart sang a different song.

But then the smile dipped, and his head dropped, and Vegas knew he’d been right; softness always meant weakness. 

Vegas played his opening gambit. “Tankhun looked wasted, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that. I take it you had a good night?”

Porsche shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You guess so? You know you smell like perfume, right?” Vegas asked, grinning.

“Oh. Yeah. I met a woman at the bar and we went outside but…” Porsche sighed, tilted his head back. The moonlight silvered his bronze skin; he looked, Vegas thought, beautiful. “My head wasn’t in the right place, I s’pose. It’s not usually a problem for me, I can switch off my brain when I’m with someone, but since that thing with Kinn - ” At that he stopped dead, eyes widening before he looked away.

A cool, vicious thrill spiked in Vegas’s gut. As he’d hoped, maybe even expected, Kinn had overplayed his hand, and Vegas was ready to reap the benefits.

Vegas laid a gentle hand on Porsche’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Porsche said, something raw in his voice and his eyes. “I’m really confused, and I feel like I don’t know myself any more, and I’m making all these stupid choices and I don’t even know why. Do you ever feel like that?” He glanced over at Vegas, and shook his head. “No, of course you don’t. You always know what you’re doing, right?”

Vegas blinked, covered his surprise. “I like to have a plan, if that’s what you mean. Doesn’t mean I always know what I’m doing.”

“But you’re so…put-together all the time,” Porsche said, tilting his head in an alarmingly endearing way. “Your clothes, and your hair - your amazing bike over there…not like me, I just stumble from one disaster to the next. Runs in the family, I guess.”

Vegas took a moment to think, unsettled and uncertain. “I don’t think that’s true,” he eventually said. “You seem to be doing fine to me. Being a bodyguard is a tough job, I couldn’t do it. But you look like you’re fitting right into it.”

“Fuck, don’t say that,” Porsche exclaimed. “I’m only here to protect my brother, this isn’t who I want to be. The dumb thing is, if he knew what I was doing he’d be so ashamed.” His tone was plaintive and vulnerable; it called to the predator in Vegas. 

“Surely he’d appreciate you taking care of him?” Vegas asked.

“I don’t know about that.” Porsche slumped back on the bench, his long legs sprawling out in front of him. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had to be more of a parent than a brother, and it sucks. I don’t know how to be his dad, y’know? But our uncle is useless and just brings trouble into our home. I do my best to shield Chay, I don’t want him to have to do the same ugly shit that I’ve done just to survive. Thing is, he’s almost 18 and suddenly thinks he knows it all, but when I look at him I still see that miserable little kid who kept asking where our parents had gone.” He swiped the back of his hand across his nose, glanced over at Vegas and said, “But you know what that’s like, right? You look out for Macau, I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Vegas said, thrown. That instinct to pounce on Porsche’s vulnerability was ebbing, replaced by a sense of empathy, connection. “My father wants him to start getting more involved with our family business, but I’ve been shielding him from it as much as I can. I can’t do it forever, though.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Porsche nodded, nudging Vegas with his elbow. “I knew you’d get it.”

Vegas smiled, unable to resist. “But do the little shits appreciate it?”

Porsche laughed, sudden and irresistible. “No, they definitely do not.”

The silence stretched, and Vegas let it expand comfortably between them. He knew that Porsche’s life was filled with noise and busyness, commands and directions; he needed to be different, a safe place for Porsche. 

“Why does Kinn hate you so much?” Porsche asked eventually. “You’re family, right? But he keeps telling me not to trust you, and I don’t get it at all. You’ve been so kind to me - like tonight.”

Against all odds, a weird swirling sense of regret kicked up in Vegas’s gut. But he smiled softly and said, “We’re family, yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything. He sees me as a rival, not a cousin. That’s the way we’ve been raised - I know it might not make sense to an outsider but that’s how it’s always been.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Porsche said bluntly. “Family is everything. You should all support each other, not fight over everything.” He looked at Vegas, completely without obfuscation. “Did you never get on, then? With any of them?”

Vegas was all set to use the opening, say something to undermine Kinn and build sympathy for himself. But then, out of nowhere, he was hit with a memory of playing in the park with Kinn while their mothers sat chatting in the sunshine. He hadn’t thought about that for a long time, and to his horror he felt his throat thicken and burn. He was about to shrug it off, get back to his plan, until he saw what looked like sympathy in Porsche’s expressive eyes and the words began to flow.

“We used to play together - Kinn and I, I mean. Our mothers would arrange it, when our fathers were busy. Sometimes we’d picnic in the park, or go to our favourite sweet shop, or drive out along the coast and spend the day by the sea.”

“That sounds nice,” Porsche said. 

“It was,” Vegas said. “But then Pa found out and he…he put a stop to it.” 

“Oh,” Porsche said; just that, oh, but it was soft and understanding, and Vegas had to clench his jaw against the tears that prickled behind his eyes.

The silence swept back in and Vegas fought for control of himself; he was off-plan, unprepared. 

“I suppose,” Porsche said slowly, “that it’s hard for you to make friends in your position. But maybe, if it’s not too weird or, like, against the rules…maybe you could think of me as your friend.”

Vegas laughed; he’d prepared a line just like that to use on Porsche, and the ridiculous coincidence struck him as hilarious. 

Porsche frowned, sat up straighter. “Okay, I get it, you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like me.”

“No, Porsche,” Vegas said, unthinkingly reaching out to grasp Porsche’s arm. “It’s not that - of course I want to be friends with you. It’s just…nobody’s ever said anything like that to me. Everyone’s scared of me, or hates me, or wants to use me.” He stopped himself, honesty swelling too close to the surface.

“I’m not scared of you,” Porsche said with a big grin, knocking his elbow into Vegas’s ribs again. “I think you’re a much nicer guy than anyone realises.”

Painful as it was, Vegas managed to smile. “You’re sweet, Porsche. But you’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Porsche insisted. “I know these things. I’m good at reading people.”

It was almost funny, how wrong Porsche was; how much Vegas wished he was right.

“We should be getting back,” Vegas said, his reluctance less of an act than it should have been. “Kinn will be thinking I’ve kidnapped you.”

“I don’t really give a flying fuck what Kinn thinks,” Porsche said expansively, but he stood when Vegas did. “Thanks for tonight, though. I needed to get away for a while.”

“You can always reach out to me,” Vegas said, his hand resting on Porsche’s arm for a long moment.

Porsche’s expression, for once, was hard to read as he studied Vegas’s face. “You too,” he said. “The only good thing to come out of this mess so far…is you.”

Vegas had no answer to that. He let Porsche drive home, smiled and demurred at Porsche’s gratitude. When Porsche hugged him, tight and close and sincere, Vegas closed his eyes and squeezed back just as hard. It was foolish, and childish, but for a moment he let himself pretend that they could actually be friends.

* * *

Vegas smoothed back his hair as he waited for Porsche to answer the bell. Behind him in the darkness stood a group of men, waiting as instructed.

The gate creaked open and Porsche said, “Vegas? What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn you,” Vegas said, adding a little fear to his tone. “One of our informants told me that there’s a plot to kidnap Kinn - is he here yet?”

“No,” Porsche frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“Pa called Uncle Korn to tell him what we’d heard, and he mentioned you had this week off. Apparently your roommate said Kinn was planning to come here to see you.”

Porsche’s expression melted from confusion to annoyance. “To drag me back, probably. Asshole.”

Porsche’s eye roll made Vegas smile, until he caught and hid it. “I brought some men with me to protect you, you should come with me now,” he said. “Uncle Korn is going to call Kinn back home.”

“So much for my week off,” Porsche sighed, “but you didn’t have to come all the way out here yourself, you could have called me.”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe,” Vegas said, a lie but also not.

Porsche smiled and gestured Vegas inside. “Well, come in for a second while I explain to my friends.”

“And Porchay? He needs to leave too,” Vegas said, following Porsche across the lawn.

Porsche smiled over his shoulder. “It’s okay, he’s away at camp. Thank you, though.”

Guilt tugged at Vegas’s belly. “Sure. I have a younger brother too, remember?”

Two men were sitting at the garden table, the air thick with the smell of pork frying. One smiled at Vegas, the other narrowed his eyes and blatantly looked Vegas up and down.

“This is Jom, and Tem,” Porsche told Vegas, then said to his friends, “Sorry, but you need to go home. I have to leave now.”

“Oh? Emergency booty call?” asked Jom, waggling his eyebrows.

“Some men are on their way here who you really don’t want to meet,” Vegas said, noting subtly how Porsche blushed at Jom’s words. “I’m sorry to break up your evening, gentlemen, but believe me that it’s for your own good.”

When they looked at him sceptically, Porsche added, “He’s not kidding - clear off home, now!”

“Ugh, fine,” Jom grumbled, stuffing his mouth as he stood. 

“Will you be okay?” Tem asked Porsche.

“Sure, Vegas will take care of me,” Porsche said.

Vegas froze as Porsche’s words thudded into his skin like bullets. His trust in Vegas, instinctual and freely given, felt like a burden and a blessing all at once. It was new, but not unwelcome, and made Vegas feel like scum.

As they all hurried across the lawn, Kinn stepped in through the open gate. “Porsche?” he said, his puzzled frown turning into a sneer as he added, “Vegas? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you get the call from your father?” Vegas asked, striving to keep the triumph locked down inside. “Donna Giulietta has sent some men after you, they’re probably tailing you right now. I came here to warn Porsche that you might be bringing danger to his door.”

“You fucking snake,” Kinn growled, moving towards Vegas, but Porsche stepped in between them to everyone’s surprise.

“Look, we all have to leave before those thugs arrive,” Porsche said, glaring at Kinn. “Vegas is here to help me, and I trust him. I’m not sure why you’re here, though.”

A flash of hurt surprise crossed Kinn’s face, before he schooled it back to his habitual scowl. “Well, how convenient. How do you know he didn’t bring them here?”

“If he was behind this, would he really have called your father to warn him, and then come here to help me?” Porsche snapped back. 

“Porsche,” Vegas said, taking Porsche’s arm, “we don’t have time, they could be here any minute.”

As if on cue, a white van screeched around the corner. Vegas barked orders for his men to get Kinn to safety, then hurried Porsche across to his bike. As Porsche gunned the engine and Vegas climbed on behind him, he was unable to resist a grin back at Kinn before they sped away.

* * *

Vegas directed Porsche to his family’s safehouse. The Italians weren’t aware of it, Kinn had never been there, and it was probably the safest place for them to be. It was also peaceful, serene, beautiful without being showy; a contrast to the opulence of the main compound, and hopefully a place where Porsche would feel relaxed.

“Wow,” Porsche breathed, strolling out along a pier to a small summerhouse sitting over the lake. “This is gorgeous.”

Vegas leaned on the railing beside him, watching the stars swimming in the black water. “Yeah. I’d live here all the time, if I could.”

“Why can’t you?” Porsche asked, glancing over at him. “It’s not that far out of the city.”

“Macau needs to be near his school, he couldn’t live here, and I wouldn’t leave him,” Vegas said. “And anyway, Pa would never agree. He wants me close, so he can keep an eye on me.”

Porsche turned to face Vegas, one elbow on the wooden railing. “Hey, thanks for getting me out of there. That was a pretty close call.”

“Sure,” Vegas said, and smiled. “I told you before, I’m here when you need me.”

The words were like bile in his mouth. Somehow, lying to Porsche wasn’t the same as lying to Tawan. His secret lover was also a liar and a cheat, but gobbled up every word of praise, every platitude, every false declaration; it was easy, unsatisfying. But Porsche was earnest and genuine, sincere, kind. Lying to him made Vegas feel the weight of every label that had ever been pinned to his chest, made him long to be a different man.

Without warning, Porsche leaned forward and kissed him. Vegas was stunned, caught in a moment of hesitation. This was the perfect outcome, the fruition of his plan, the best possible way to hurt and weaken Kinn. Why, then, was he reluctant to pounce on it?

Porsche pulled back, brows drawing down. “Sorry, you don’t seem…I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” Vegas said, grasping Porsche’s hand. “That was just sudden - I didn’t know you were interested in me that way.”

Porsche’s smile was a light in the darkness. “Well, I am,” he said playfully. “What are you going to do about it?”

This was what he’d wanted, what he’d planned and worked and manoeuvred for; but again, the flirty response stuck in Vegas’s mouth. 

“Vegas?” Porsche asked, a touch of hurt in his tone but his thumb stroking gently over Vegas’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Vegas said, summoning a smile. “Tonight’s just been…a lot.”

Porsche’s free hand lifted to rest on Vegas’s cheek, butterfly-light. “I know. But we’re safe now.” He leaned in, watching Vegas’s mouth, and kissed him again.

Vegas closed his eyes and kissed Porsche back, a hand on his hip to pull him closer. He felt exhilarated and sick, aroused and disgusted, until it was too much and he had to draw back again.

“I can’t, Porsche,” he gasped, adrenalin making him shaky. “It’s not fair, you don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I can make my own decisions, Vegas - I’ve had enough of other people deciding what I need.”

“No, listen to me -  I’m not the man you think I am,” Vegas said, a sense of desperation creeping over him; he couldn’t bear to imagine that soft glow in Porsche’s eyes turning to loathing when he realised he’d been played.

“I don’t care,” Porsche persisted. “I know you’ve done bad things, probably even worse than I know, but I still want you, Vegas. You’re the only thing that makes sense to me any more.”

When Porsche kissed him again, Vegas was too weak to resist.

#kinnporsche #gift exchange #fanfiction #ghost: JustAnotherVariant #haunted: technicallyverycowboy