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#Bowtie Bastards
cantankerouscatfish · 2 years
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hey bud, can I have my arm back? I’m rather attached to it.
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stories-and-chaos · 2 months
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Shrike: The House Always…Loses? Pt 1
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[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. This was supposed to be a one shot about how Husk sold his soul, but I couldn’t help myself.]
[Part 1/2 Word count 3142 CW: alcohol consumption, gambling, mentions of sex.]
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The house always…loses?!
The 1970’s. You could tell there was some crazy shit going on in the world of the living. Mostly because the new arrivals in Hell had some particularly messed up forms. Tom Trench, 666 News’ anchor, had ended every broadcast for the past three years in an orgy after reporting on the war on Earth as well as the local conflicts.
“Complete lack of class,” Alastor shook his head as the two of you passed a large television screen in one of Pentagram City’s plazas. It was tuned to Tom’s nightly sign off; the camera off kilter and focused on the desk at a bizarre angle. Evidently the camera operator was part of the group on top of the desk. You could hear Tom saying, “oh fuck yeah I’m gonna invade all your landmasses baby,” followed by “here comes the firebombiiiiiiiiingggguh.”
“Zut alors, he’s turned into such a disgrace.” You scowled. “He might as well just work for that uncouth moth bastard at this point.” As you described Valentino, your voice gained a rough edge and wind started to swirl around you.
Your husband gave your hand a soothing squeeze. “Now now dear, you’ll muss your hair before I even get you on the dance floor if you keep it up. Besides cher, we’ll likely encounter him and the fad chaser at this party. If we all give into our emotions we’re likely to level the whole place.”
You breathed deeply. “And I’d hate to demolish a new establishment before even giving it a chance. Zestial requested a few songs as well, I can’t ruin my voice before granting him that.”
The two of you were attending a gala of Overlords and favored subordinates. One of the newest Overlords was providing the venue at his casino. These sort of get togethers were uncommon as more than one of the Pride Ring’s leaders in the same place often resulted in considerable property damage. So this newcomer was either extremely confident or foolhardy. Typical of a gambler.
At the entrance, you and your husband gave each other a final check; you straightened his bowtie, he smoothed back an errant lock of hair for you. Inside the casino was bustling with activity. It was set up into quadrants, each designated by a card suit. One section had slot machines designed to drain money from the poor saps who fell prey to their lights and false hopes. Deeper in were tables for more sophisticated ways to lose money. An elegant bar and well stocked buffet with dining tables nearby took up another section. The last quadrant had a stage for performers, lounge chairs for audience members and a dance floor. There was currently a band playing something forgettable on stage.
There was activity mostly at the gaming tables and bar. Not many Overlords were interested in the machines, the stakes weren’t high enough to care. And while the band was good, there wasn’t a headliner on stage at the moment. Food, alcohol, and barbed conversation was a bigger draw.
“Alastor, Y/N. Good to see you both.” The voice was sultry and professional all around once. “Ah, Carmilla, always a pleasure seeing you dear. You and your daughters,” you husband replied to the graceful Overlord.
“It’s been too long, Carmilla. Odette, Clara, you both look lovely cheres.” You glanced around the opulent venue. “So was this little fais do do your idea Carmilla?”
The tall woman shrugged elegantly. “In part. The owner of this establishment wanted to garner some attention and I owed him a small favor. I merely arranged the guest list. He took care of the rest.” She gestured to one of the card tables. “He’s entertaining guests with games of chance if you’d like to meet him.”
Alastor looked to you, “Well my dear, shall we meet our newest contemporary or mingle first?”
You spotted a tall figure draped in tacky fuschia leering in your direction from the bar, along with a shorter boxy headed demon boring holes into Alastor’s back. “Looks as if there are some unsavories around the liquor. I’m always interested in making new acquaintances.”
Arm in arm, you and your husband headed to the tables, Carmilla and her girls with you. You looked at them questioningly. “Ostensibly, as the hostess, I should introduce guests to each other.”
A demon about your height was dominating at the blackjack table. He had feline features in addition to a set of wings. Whereas your wings mimicked a natural bird’s coloration, his were more fantastical, vibrantly red and black with bars and dots all over. His hair was elegantly slicked back and his crisp tuxedo completed the air of a high roller.
He spotted Carmilla and after he won the current hand excused himself from the table, saying “duty calls friends.” He tucked his cane under his arm; the body was gold and topped with a sphere containing suit symbols, dice, and chips rotating like an orrery within.
“Husk, I’d like you to meet some of our colleagues.” Carmilla began as he approached. “This is Alastor, the Radio Demon, and his wife Y/N, the Singing Shrike. Alastor, Y/N, this is Husk, proprietor of this establishment and our newest sovereign Overlord.”
Alastor released your hand to shake Husk’s. “A pleasure to meet you my good man, truly a pleasure.” You followed up with your own pleasantries adding, “A lovely venue you have here. If the food and drink are up to the decor we may need to come around again, cher.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” his voice was rough but not unwelcoming. More like someone who had smoked excessively for years. “I don’t do things by halves, so I’m sure the refreshments are up to snuff. You’re both welcome to try the tables as well, if you can buy into the pot.” He stated a number that was high, but not exclusionary. No doubt he wanted to hook his patrons to get more value later. “We’re not betting souls tonight, that’s business and tonight’s for pleasure.” He gave you both a toothy smile before heading back to the cards.
You mingled both with Alastor and on your own. Waiters weaved through pockets of activity, serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres. There wasn’t really a crowd, which was smart considering how many Overlords could barely stand to be under the same roof, much less rubbing elbows.
It was somewhat inevitable though. A couple of hotheads, one you recognized and one you didn’t, started bickering, then yelling, then throwing punches. Any longer and they might have started bringing out some powers. Except they were stopped by a barrage of black playing cards. Off balance, they were crashed to the ground when a pair of giant dice rolled snake eyes onto them. Pinned, the two could only wait as Husk stalked over, the top of his cane glowing red.
“Didn’t your mamas ever teach you dumbasses any manners?” He slammed the butt of his cane down between their heads, sending a ripple of power out. “This is my house, my rules, so I’m going to teach you instead.” His gold pupils shined as he grinned down at them. “You wanna fight? You take it outside or I make you. You wanna settle things in here? We got plenty of ways to settle matters at the tables. Now what’s it gonna be bitches?” The two remained silent and continued to glare at each other. “Outside it is.”
The dice vanished but before the hapless combatants could do more than gasp a wave of poker chips carried them out the door with bone breaking force. Husk followed the wave calmly. From the other side, you could hear thuds, explosions, and screams. It only lasted a moment. Husk returned alone. One of the casino employees brought a new tuxedo jacket; there was dust and a bit of blood on the one he was wearing. He combed his hair back and returned to the game he’d been playing.
You sipped your whiskey, amused. Confidence it was then. “It seems our new friend can hold his own,” Alastor mused as he smoothly came up beside you. He held out a morsel of food for you, speared on a tiny skewer. “These are delightful, cher.” You pulled it off with your teeth. Shrimp in a spiced breading. “Mmm, that is lovely darling, thank you. And yes, he seems quite capable…for now.”
Anything else you would have said was derailed by a tall dark form appearing next to you and your husband. “If the two of thee have formed such an opinion of yon grimalkin, his potential is indeed of note.”
“My lord Zestial!” A light shiver sent your feathers rustling but that was expected around a demon as old and powerful as Zestial. Even Alastor tensed, a bit of strain around his lips and eyes. You curtsied as Alastor gave a slight bow. “You are as perceptive as ever. He has a great deal of power and potential. If his luck continues…”
Zestial chuckled. “Thou speaketh truth Shrike. One must make thine own luck. But ‘tis far too pleasant an occasion for such musings. Will thou grace the assemblage with thy voice tonight Shrike?”
“Of course cher!” As if you’d say no. Not to such a simple request from someone like Zestial. “I don’t suppose you have any requests? Or if there’s anything you’d like to hear darling?” you asked your husband.
Zestial shook his head. “Thy voice is a gift alone, I shall not presume to dictate its flow.”
“Hmm, I’m afraid I can’t help but dictate a little ma cher. Rosie requested a dance, so something she would enjoy?”
“I’d be glad to.” Alastor kissed your hand before seeing you off. You let Carmilla and Husk both know that you were ready to take the stage; you’d arranged everything ahead of time so the band was ready for you. Spotlights highlighted your mark as the lights dimmed slightly in the rest of the casino.
There was still a tremor of nervousness in your core as you took the stage. You were glad of it; if you didn’t feel nervous, you didn’t care about the performance or the audience. So you let it fuel the passion in your voice. You started with something that would grab attention, tap some toes. The big numbers would come later. For now you wanted them to listen to you more than the alcohol roaring in their skulls.
Once you had a gathering and you could feel the upbeat vibe in the room, you went into some dance numbers. The first one was for Alastor and Rosie. Seeing those two dancing together made your heart soar. Some might have expected you to be jealous, another woman dancing with your husband right in front of you. But how could you be jealous of your partner and your friend being so joyful together?
Not to mention that after your deaths, Alastor had gotten taller while you…embarrassingly you were the same height. He could still escort you comfortably but there were some dance moves that you couldn’t do together. Rosie was the perfect height, light on her feet, and a delight to watch in her own right. Why deny her and Alastor the pleasure? Or yourself the pleasure of watching.
You sang a mix of eras, which kept the band on their toes. But you loved music from different times and hearing what you could do with various songs. Alastor and Rosie danced for most of the songs, you could see Carmilla’s daughters find partners, and Zestial with his eyes closed, head bobbing to the music. Not even glimpses of Valentino and Vox could spoil the mood.
As people got tired, you slowed things down. There was more swaying on the dance floor now; there weren’t a lot of overt couples among Overlords (at least not established permanent ones) but there were many that shared intimacy for a time. Some had followers they were particularly close to and the rest of their followers often had a special someone. So there were plenty of pairs swaying to your voice.
Your last song of the night was Alastor’s song. It was your routine to finish with that one; carried over from when you were alive. Any demons that had seen you perform before knew it was your finale and worth paying attention to. The applause after the last note felt like champagne bubbling in your glass: delightful. You had a policy of not taking encores or requests after Alastor’s song, no matter how much anyone offered.
Alastor was there as you descended, hand ready for you. “As ever, you make me glad you married me, cher. Shall we get something to eat, I’m starved.” He knew you were likely to be as well, you tended to be ravenous after a performance.
To your surprise, there was clapping still near you; Husk, pulled away from the gaming tables. “I haven’t heard a performance like that in years. I’ve got a proposition for you, Y/N. Can I have some of your time after your meal?”
You and Alastor exchanged a glance. “Why not join us? As you said, it’s a night for pleasure, so presumably it’s not too serious,” you said as Alastor nestled your hand in his arm.
“If you’re both alright with that, don’t mind if I do.” You took a seat at an empty table while Alastor prepared a plate for you. You didn’t always let him, but you had put a lot into that performance, with so many people to impress. Fortunately, neither he nor Husk took long. Vox was starting to eye you from across the room. You would have hated to get wires and grease all over Husk’s new floor.
Alastor presented your plate as smoothly as any waiter, earning a throaty chuckle from you. There were more of those lovely shrimp, prime rib, salad, a baked potato and a slice of peach pie. You ate like a bird, which meant voraciously. You had to eat close to half your body weight in a day, much like the little bird you resembled. Fortunately you weren’t a pure carnivore and the peach pie was wonderfully nostalgic.
“Well, cher,” you said while stabbing a forkful of greens, “what’s this proposition?”
Husk swallowed, wiped his lips, and leveled a golden stare at you and Alastor. “I’d like to hire you of course,” he replied, expectedly. “I don’t have a headliner here yet and watching you made me realize how much this place needs one.” He sipped his wine. “So what do you say to a couple shows a week? I’ll give top billing to an Overlord, especially with pipes like yours.”
You smirked and raised your glass in admiration. Most assumed that Alastor was the only one with power in your relationship. Despite there being multiple female Overlords, once they found out you were married they acted as if you were little more than your husband’s hanger-on. While that granted you a number of opportunities (and demons chained to you with deals) you appreciated any that had a better grasp on your marital dynamic.
“What kind of compensation are we looking at? I don’t sing for free, cher.” Not even tonight had been free; Carmilla had paid your rate. There was one being in all existence that got to hear you for free.
Husk immediately named a figure. A gambler he might be, but he was a businessman too. He gave a number higher than your usual fee. Not high enough to make him seem desperate, but enough that he respected your talent and to entice from other engagements. “Obviously any tips are yours and you both will get perks of casino employees.” Evidently he noticed your shared enjoyment of the food and drink and wanted to sweeten the deal by including Alastor.
You pretended to mull it over while chewing your prime rib. “Quite the generous offer, ma petite chat. Why not, say three nights a week?” Husk readily agreed verbally. Neither of you moved to shake hands or sign papers; you could never be too careful with Overlords, especially when you were one.
The three of you chatted lightly as you ate. Alastor and you had experience with the old guard while Husk knew a lot of the young bucks. Neither side was about to give away more than the minimum information, but you got the impression he could be a decent ally.
Or pawn.
After the meal Husk asked you for a dance. You readily agreed, looking forward to seeing how he was on his feet. Not to mention a dance partner your size would be a nice change. He wasn’t as good as Alastor (who was?) but he was quite good. He seemed surprised by a couple maneuvers that incorporated your wings, evidently he hadn’t experimented much with his.
He actually got three songs with you before thanking you and heading back to the card tables. You were just feeling warmed up and went to retrieve your husband. Only to be intercepted by none other than Vox.
“Hey there sweetheart. How about you let me show you moves?” He gave you a grin and moved to take your hand in his.
You raked him up and down with your eyes. “Oh Vox, I’ve seen all your moves. They’re not impressive.” You pinched his wandering hand between two of your talons, making sure to draw pinpricks of blood before releasing him. “Allons’y cher, best you find a partner who can slow down for you.” Alastor had arrived at your side and added, “My darling wife makes an excellent point, although I’m not sure there’s anyone who can. Better luck next time ol’ pal!”
Without further ado he swept you onto the dance floor. He gleefully kept you dancing the majority of the night. You changed up partners a couple times, him with Rosie and you with Husk. At the end of the last song of the night, a slow dance, he lifted you into a bridal carry. Your wings cupped around his shoulders as he swayed with you.
Back at home, he and you exchanged notes on the evening while going through your nightly routines. “Cher, are you certain you don’t want me to deal with Vox?” he offered yet again.
“I can handle him darling. It seems I’ll need to be more direct however. More importantly, what do you think of my new employer?”
“Hmm.” His staticky hum filled the room as he climbed under the bedcovers. “An interesting fellow, we’ll need to see how he does. And you being there so often will give us plenty of opportunities,” he chuckled darkly.
You matched his laugh. As you settled next to his lean form you replied, “Agreed. This should be entertaining.”
A/N: part two may take a couple days, I’m finding pre-deal Husk’s voice hard to pin down. I hope you all like my head canon for his stronger abilities. Also, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future Shrike snippets, she’s just fun to write. 💜🤍🩶🖤
@edgyboi10000 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @deafsignifcantother @whitewolfsoldat @ch3sire-blu3 @bengewatch
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call-sign-shark · 3 months
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Savage Daughter || Shelby family x You
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Summary:  When the Shelby family gathers together, chaos is never far. Yet, for once, it's not the men who bring it but you, and soon the girls join you too. (based on Ekatarina Shelehova - Savage Daughter)
Words: 1.2k
Notes:
✞ This story is linked with the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes but can be read as a stand-alone.
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Slipping your finger between your diamond choker and your skin, you took a big exhale — the expensive corset you wore for the occasion was crushing your ribcage. The sound of chatters, clinging glasses, and classical music might have been loud but all you could hear was your own pulse, beating in your temples faster and faster with each labored breathing.
Your crystal eyes scanned the room, looking for your husband but it seemed that he was also in distress, standing still behind Tommy with his gaze fixed upon an invisible spot on the wall. Arthur was nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, visibly as uncomfortable as you when surrounded by all these posh guests, and yet, he had no other choice but to keep playing the bodyguard for his younger brother.
"Mr. Shelby, what a wonderful party you're hosting here! Arrow House is wonderful, I reckon." An old, ugly gentleman, dressed in a suit more expensive than everything your parents had ever owned, said with his silly accent. If being honest, he was looking absolutely ridiculous with his ears too big and his triple chin far too fat for such a small bowtie. To play the Devil's advocate, your mocking thoughts were justified: the pig had tried to grope almost every woman he had talked with. And as if this previous fact didn't render him despicable enough, he had ignored Arthur as if he were part of the ballroom's furniture. Another sigh, louder this time, escaped from your lips at the painful sensation of the blisters behind your heels when they rubbed against your tight shoes.
When Arthur came back to you, one look at his pursed lips had been enough for you to guess that he had spent the last ten minutes keeping himself from strangling the impolite Mr. Dempsey.
"Fookin' bastard, can't even say a bloody 'hello' to me. I swore I should've cut his fucking —" Stopping mid-sentence, the lanky gangster suddenly frowned and tilted its head at the sight of you taking your high heels off, only half listening to him, "The hell you're doing, angel?"
"I'm taking my heels off, that's what I do." You replied, grunting as you undid the complicated laces that were climbing up your shinbones, "And I don't care if it ain't classy or decorous, these shoes are making my skin bleed and this damn corset is suffocating me!" Talking about the corset, you pulled on the delicate silky laces to tear them apart and free your body from this inhumane trap until all you were wearing was a thin white summer dress.
"Heaven, love," Arthur tried to interrupt as he noticed how a few outraged guests were already whispering together all the while glaring at you. Among them, Tommy Shelby's arctic iris.
"I'm dead serious: I'm trapped here among hypocrites, suffering in clothes their wives criticized when they saw me while I could be outside, peacefully enjoying the immense garden of the mansion. A garden which is, by the way, the only enjoyable feature of this golden cage. All of this only because Tom wants people to believe we're all getting along in the family, tsk." Arthur closed his mouth, unable to find something to retort to your murderous prose. Maybe that was why he looked at you silently instead, a glimmer of amusement shining in his still blue eyes. "What?" You finally asked, not comprehending why the lanky gangster was now smiling, his mustache slightly lifted on one side.
"Gimme these shits." With that being said, Arthur took your heels and corset from your hands before leaning above you and kissing your forehead with indescribable tenderness, completely obliterating the rest. "Now go," The gravel in his voice rumbled, "Go run barefoot and curse at sharp stones, I ain't going to pin your wings." Of course you felt suffocating, he thought, for he knew you didn't belong here. Just like him. But while he had to remain somewhat near to his brother for the whole evening, Arthur never wished to inflict such torment on your savage soul: you were born to dance around fires, in the curves of old bones, or look for omens in the falling of feathers. Not to sip on champagne and boast about your riches with aristocratic ladies.
"Really?" You inquired, the fierceness of your face softening at your husband's surprising —and understanding— reaction. Arthur winked at you for a sole reply before turning around and barking at those who were still observing you with a loud "The fook you're looking at me wife ay? Go back to your chit-chat!". It had been the final nail in Tommy's coffin, who pinched his nose as if to stop a dawning headache — a headache that bore your name.
Offering one shark-like and insolent smile to little King Shelby, you left the ballroom running barefoot and only stopped when you found yourself in the middle of the garden, slowly spinning on yourself. With your doll-like face facing the night sky, you relished the sensation of the fresh breeze softly grazing your skin in welcoming strokes. A cheerful giggle fell from your plump lips as rays of moonlight illuminated your dainty frame like a myriad of motherly hands ready to catch you.
"Hey! Devil! You're nothing but trouble, you know that?!" A feminine voice erupted behind you, making you stop dancing and glance from where the soft lilt was coming. What was your surprise when your gaze met Ada's cunning smile! Beside her Polly was standing, her frail arms crossed on her bosom but her ebony eyes displaying an excitement she hadn't felt in years.
"I can't help it, Ada. I'm my mother's savage daughter!" You exclaimed, opening your arms to fake a pretentious bow — a move that stirred a sincere laugh from your sister-in-law.
"Tommy's mad." She said through her grin.
"Tommy's always mad. Why don't you join me?" At your offering, Ada side-eyed her dear Aunt, not sure if she could momentarily strip from the elegant Mrs. Thorne mask and be herself for once. For fuck's sake! Can't they fucking behave?! Can't your fucking wife stop fucking everything up just once eh?! Tommy's voice was roaring from the inside of Arrow House, just what Ada and Polly needed to make up their mind.
Freeing themselves from fancy hats, oppressive clothes, and painful high heels, both Polly and Ada joined you in the middle of the garden, the two of them grabbing one of your hands to form a round dance.
We are our mother's savage daughters, you sang.
I'm not joking Arthur! Did you think about what people are going to say?!
We are our mother's savage daughters, Ada followed. Her voice swirled up to the sky, each note bringing her closer to her mom she barely knew.
We will not cut our hair! We will not lower our voice! Polly's cheered louder, and as she did she was sixteen again, walking barefoot in the mud with a horse's rein in one hand and flowers in the other.
And deep in our bones, the old songs are waking So sing them with voices of thunder and rain, the wind carried your chant away. So far away that somewhere on the road, one Romani woman, fierce and beautiful, felt the wild drums of nature beating within her as she braided the hair of her adorable little girl.
"Are you okay Mom?" She asked, concerned by her mother's sudden stop.
"Yes, Katie. Yes, I am."
Esme smiled.
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✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.
✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd
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soundspeachytome · 3 months
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7 minutes in heaven - shohei ohtani au
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summary: Y/N snoops around famous football player Shohei Ohtani’s locker in search for a scandal against his clean record but ends up in one herself.
tropes: friends with benefits, friends to lovers(?)
tw: *slight* smut, mentions of sex, oral (f receiving)
word count: 30,033K words (i'm SO sorry in advance holy shit)
hi! it's been a while. when i made this account, i vowed to write at least once a week but it had been so difficult this month juggling work, my chronic migraines, and seasonal depression (lol).
please note i did not proofread this so plsssss i apologize for grammar mistakes and inconsistencies!!
posting this on the last day of 2023, hoping to give everyone a good read before we welcome the new year. so thankful for this small space to try, linger and reset all over again. hope you had a very merry holidays with your loved ones.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Locker Lockdown
At around thirty minutes past four in the afternoon, I skimmed the clubhouse for any signs of life. It was only the quiet that prevailed. Clear. 
I tiptoed my way towards the player locker room. I only had around ten minutes to locate the correct locker and take whatever I could find. Discovering the locker area to be empty and unguarded, I felt a surge of excitement. 
Six years later, I couldn’t get my big break and decided sports journalism could catapult me into somewhere big in the industry. This is my last chance to prove myself, otherwise I’d have to reconsider going back home and write Hallmark greeting card messages again. 
Shohei Ohtani’s jersey number is the number 17. Lucky bastard, after all these years and even after going through free agency, he got to keep his famous number, even at the cost of having their senior player give it up for him when he joined the football team. 
And here you might be wondering why I’m doing this aside from my sheer desperation to get an official spot in the workplace and not eat scraps of topics editors discarded for themselves. 
Some people are privileged to a fault.
And I hate seeing him on TV. Or on social media. Or his Colgate-white smile plastered all over my favorite beer and skincare brands. 
Some would say this is the TMZ tabloid level of writing. I say this is investigative journalism. Find out if the famous favorite son-in-law has any flaws of his own and wrap around a bowtie of hidden horrors of sports documentaries. 
And where else can we find this but in the athlete hotpot: their locker room.
I found Shohei’s locker right away as it was the tidiest locker among all on display, with nothing but brand-sponsored clothing hung neatly on the rack. He also donned the top shelf with some dog-eared self-help titles and vitamin bottles. While the rest of the athletes have pictures of their girlfriends, wives and their kids, Shohei has an unreleased polaroid selfie with his dog, Dekopin, just right beside his perfume bottles. Dekopin was looking away, captured in mid-yawn, with his ears raised, and Shohei, smiling into the camera with pursed lips and a snapback on.
I got so immersed into reading the ingredients of his vitamin bottles, trying to find anything remotely related to steroids, or any form of illegal bodily enhancements, that I didn’t notice footsteps from outside the hall.
“What are you doing here?” a voice loomed behind me and I dropped the diet supplement bottle in panic.
Only the sound of the bottle rattling could be heard as I locked eyes with Shohei Ohtani, tall and all muscular. His hair was sweaty and unkempt and his eyes held mild anger and confusion. After the bottle stopped rolling and settled somewhere on the floor between us, there was only silence and the cold sweat building up at my back. 
I swallowed hard. I planned everything from studying the stadium’s entrance and exit doors but I didn’t plan on bumping into him. Not like this. Not when I’m at the lowest level of the social hierarchy right now. 
I could only be ashamed. 
Brain still befuddled at the thought of getting caught, I urged my limbs and picked up the vitamin bottle and returned it back to Shohei’s locker. The plan was not to respond at all and run as fast as I could before the rest of his team arrived. That was the only way to keep whatever dignity I have left. 
“I said, what are you doing here?” He caught my arm mid-exit and pulled me back, tightening his grip. 
“Let go of me.” I struggled to keep my balance and the way my voice wavered was no help at all. 
Shohei saw the camera slung over my shoulder and looked back at me, realization hitting him.
“Y/N, are you a sports journalist now? And were you looking through my stuff?” he said, sounding almost disappointed. 
“That’s none of your business. Let go of me.” I kept my voice steady but his grip only tightened. The sides of my eyes slowly formed tears. 
“What tabloid media do you work for? I should report you. Would you like that? What a shame you’ll be banned from all the games now, right? You nasty journalists just won’t keep your noses away from my business.” he took my camera and deleted all the photos I took of the contents of his locker. I tried to leap for it but he was obviously inches taller than I was and I was no match for that.
“I don’t write tabloid news. If I was, my name would have been all over TV by now.” I grabbed the camera from him and sighed morosely at the lost media. A day’s work is all lost.
“My boss gave me a green light to do a documentary about the team. And the star player.” I wiggled my fingers in front of him, as if to emphasize the word “star” in front of him.
“I came here assuming you and the other players would be here for an interview but no one was around yet. So I hung around a bit and took interest in your nutritional supplements.” Lie after lie after lie. I gritted my teeth and faked a smile. The most convincing lie I’ve learned on almost all my failed dates and relationships was to stroke a man’s ego and have him talk about all the things he is interested in, making him divert his attention to something else. 
“You’ve got really good, um, vitamins for muscle recovery there. Maybe that’s why you got so big and strong, right?.” He looked at me dubiously, nodding responsively to be polite. If he took the bait, then he is obviously just like any other guy I’ve ever met. 
“I mean, I guess? I’ve been doing deadlifts so–”
Approaching footsteps and faint voices were heard from the hall. Shohei pushed me toward the opposite end of the hall, where the showers were located. 
“Wha–” I started but was shut up when he pushed me further into the back of the shower room, swiping the doors closed. 
“Shut up if you don’t want to be caught.” He growled and I recoiled back into the tiled corner. On top of me was the almost rusting shower head who had seen better days, and two bottle pumps for shampoo and body wash. 
Voices and conversations were starting to fill in the locker room that was empty only a few seconds ago. The voices of men echoed through the shower rooms.  You could hear the sound of water turning on from neighboring shower stalls, laughter and tired conversation in the locker area. We were surrounded.
Shohei could be heard laughing with his mates while blocking the door to the shower room I was hiding in. 
“Are you using that, Sho? I could use a hot shower right now.” one of his teammates said. 
“Uh, no, I was just about to use this room, sorry.” he said, almost hesitating. After a few seconds, he entered the shower room and started undressing. 
I widened my eyes and shot him daggers. When he unhooked his shirt from his armholes, I was rendered speechless. 
He had the body sculpted by the gods with his wide shoulders and large pecs that glinted under the light. How could someone look handsome and beautiful at the same time? 
So when Shohei reached for the waist belt of his pants down, I didn’t know why I had choked on a silent scream. I looked away, embarrassed to have reacted like an inexperienced teenager. I have seen and have been with naked men before. This should be nothing new to me and my level. Or so I thought.
I stole a glance at Shohei, who was slowly walking towards me (or to the showerhead, where I stood under, obviously)  in only his boxers on, gazing at me in wild amusement.
We were almost inches apart from each other, foreheads almost touching, breaths almost converging, if you may. If I stand on my tiptoes, I would be almost at his eye-level and I could peck him on the lips if I wanted to. 
If I wanted to.
“Sorry, but I need to shower or someone else will try to take this stall.” His voice broke my salacious thoughts. He looked at me and turned the shower on.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m supposed to. Aren’t I? I just got off practice and I stink.” He said almost sarcastically.
“So I’m supposed to just watch you bathe and hope I get out here alive?” Water slowly dripped into my shirt, soaking my chest and exposing a bit of my underwear. 
“If you didn’t sneak in here, we wouldn’t have this problem.” He concluded and pursed his lips, not looking at me. 
“Shohei? You okay? You sound like you’re talking to someone.” a familiar voice floated into the shower room.
“It was a video on my phone that I forgot to pause, Ippei-san.” Shohei’s face turned red but recovered quickly, glaring at me. 
“Oh, well then, I thought you finally had a girl in there. I was wrong.” Ippei laughed.
Shohei started lathering body wash on his body at the slowest pace possible. His hands glided through his chest, stomach, and into the dick he’s restraining inside his boxers. Simply having this view had me almost whimpering. If it had been another day, I would have obviously enjoyed this, having a sexy man bathe in front of me, because who wouldn’t? But under my circumstances, I’m only fairly annoyed at being a flustered, hot mess and I couldn’t do anything about it. 
“Oh, fuck, now you got me wet.” I blurted a little loudly as the water splashed and got into my socks. 
Shohei’s widened and panicked eyes shot at me.
In between those short seconds, Shohei was able to respond quicker than my brain could. He had faked a laugh and said loudly, “Well, that’s awkward, the video keeps on playing on its own. Let me turn my phone off instead.” gaining laughter from outside the shower area and then reaching for the small of my neck and closed whatever space was seen between us. 
Based on what I had learned in self-defense training, my initial bodily reaction should have been this: If someone is coming at you from the front, a groin kick may deliver enough force to paralyze your attacker, making your escape possible. 1. Stabilize yourself as best you can. 2. Lift your dominant leg off the ground and begin to drive your knee upward. 3. Extend your dominant leg, drive hips forward, slightly lean back, and kick forcefully, making contact between your lower shin or ball of your foot and the attacker’s groin area.
Instead, when his lips touched mine, I felt my arms throw around his neck and pulled him closer. They say we’re all beggars for something, and this indulgence I had let myself be greedy for. 
When his lips reached mine, I parted like the Red Sea almost immediately, welcoming him and everything that he could offer: the taste of his tongue on my mouth, the smell of honey orange and apricot from his body wash seeping through my nose as I peppered kisses on his chest, and his obviously hard dick grinding against my stomach. When I palmed him, he managed a low growl and caught my wrists.
“Not here.” he groaned.
I pushed my head back inquiringly, both of us breathing too hard. 
“I have no condom,” he tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear. Under the dim bathroom light, I could see his face and chest were flushed. “Next time?”
“Well, usually when two old friends meet after a fall out in college, they just catch up and have coffee.” I said.
He laughed and said quietly, “Okay, so I owe you.”
“The coffee or the protected sex?” 
“Uh, it could go a lot of ways.” Before he could say more, I palmed him through his boxer shorts and looked up at him, trying to find his limit.
Shohei bit his own lip and tugged the roots of my hair in a bundle, pulling and tugging from the pleasure. To keep himself from making such ungodly hot sounds, he pushed his tongue down my throat and thrusted his hips back and forth against my hand.
As if to make it even, he unclasped my bra and sucked on my already soaked breasts, a satisfied groan slipped from me. We both pulled and pushed and sucked and kissed each other in the crevices the shower splatters couldn’t reach, silencing the moans before it could escape us.  
In that brief and elating moment, while we muted the noise from unsuspecting people, we smothered each other’s groans and reached our highs in the quietest, most pleasurable way possible. 
=========================================
7 minutes of heaven
It’s strange how I always find myself in the most ridiculous situations. 
The next few occasions that I’d meet Shohei would be wordless and timed interactions in enclosed spaces. We’d see each other in public and pretend we didn’t know each other but slip each other notes of the next place we’d secretly meet. It all felt strangely exhilarating to keep a secret like a fifteen year old would, with all the sneaking and running. 
We’ve explored almost every nook and cranny of the stadium, discovering hidden spots of our rendezvous. We’d meet up in a different bathroom and he’d push me on my back while he fucks me repeatedly on the bathroom sink. Pre-game preps meant I gave him blowjobs in his manager’s office hours and hours before everyone even arrived. 
Of course, when we ran out of places to hide, we’d go as far as looking for the next empty parking lot and tried to fuck each other noiselessly.
“So when can I take you out for dinner?” he had asked one day, when he dragged me out to meet with him around after midnight. I wouldn’t let him inside my apartment and I refused to do the deed in his either, so he’d bring me to places that only us knew, to fuck, to kiss, sometimes to talk, but more often, to drive each other’s pleasure and only that. 
Because god forbid we both catch feelings and lose the fun, right?
So no talking, no sharing of personal details, no anything. 
We were in an empty parking lot, away from the lampposts and streetlights. Shohei had made sure that we were well hidden in the dark. 
He had his legs spread while sitting on the driver’s seat. His hands, warm and wide, rested on my hips and thighs, lightly urging me to ride him slowly.
Soft RNB music played on the stereo, it was a quiet, still night. It was both our day off so he had wanted us to chill and take the sex slowly.
Slow meant gazing at each other’s eyes–gaze, not look–with endearment or adoration, not lust or pleasure. Slow meant thinking the unthinkable thoughts. Slow meant being vulnerable while coming undone.
And I don’t want the slow and quiet moments. I wanted the fast and rough with no time to talk, gaze or even think, just one hundred percent fun and debauchery. 
“Mmm. Maybe when you show me your photos,” I avoided the question but I also knew Shohei would never show me the photos he had taken–past and present. Even when we had been buddies for an entire semester, he had, not once, shown me his portfolio. 
“So probably never, right?” he gazed up at me with his creamy brown eyes, hands caressing my stomach lightly. 
“Probably,” I muttered and with that he had gripped my thighs tightly and moved his hips upwards to meet me. I moaned when he hit me in the right spots. Any sign of softness he had shown a few moments ago was gone, and only the roughness and unsettling disconnection remained. 
This particularly fine day, I would be standing at the mercy of his mouth. He had dragged me to an empty storage room in the east wing of the stadium, hours after practice. According to him, the area stands the exact opposite from the lockers so most people hardly come by. How he had found out about this, I had no idea. 
He was kneeling in between me, my right leg hooked on his shoulder, giving him more access and my hands tugged at the strands of his hair every time he licked my sensitive clit. 
Shohei’s tongue grazing against me had left me quivering in delight. He stands up and kisses me, giving me a taste. My fingers started unbuckling his belt when he felt his phone vibrate. 
“Oops, Ippei’s looking for me.” He pockets his phone, looking forlorn, as if telling me he didn’t really want to go yet. “See you again next time?”
“Yours or mine?” I had asked, brushing up and straightening my wrinkled dress. And when I realized what I had done, Shohei’s eyes shot up and he beamed widely. 
“I just– I- I want a proper night with sex, you know.” I explained, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s so uncomfortable having to go commando at work after you had just literally sucked the life out of my vagina, Sho.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He smiled even more.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” 
“What? Fuck off.” By this time, my face felt hot and had probably looked red like a tomato, which probably amused Shohei even more. 
“Your place, then. I’ll call you.” he gives me one last kiss then heads out first, leaving me a dazed and pulsating mess.
A shrill sound knocked me awake. It felt like seven thousand screaming hungry babies in my ear, bouncing off around my brain like a pinball. 
I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table and saw the time glinting behind the glass: 8:41 PM. I must've fallen asleep after taking a half day off from work, feeling nauseous and slightly feverish. It seemed that whatever body malaise that I have been carrying inside me earlier had sprung into a full-blown ailment.
 I pushed my body up and walked groggily to the source of my misery. 
Someone was buzzing the doorbell and repeatedly pounding on the door. Great.
“If you’re not dead or dying behind this door, you’re about to be.” I croaked harshly, throat burning; putting all my remaining energy in pulling the door open. I was greeted by an extremely tall man with frantic brown eyes, searching my face.
“Oh, thank fucking god. I’ve been knocking for half an hour.” he wrapped me in a tight hug, I almost collapsed. Partly because of the throbbing headache and overall discomfort that I already felt, but hugely because of the warm minty scent of Shohei Ohtani. 
“Jesus, you’re burning up!”
“What are you doing here?” I said, struggling in his grip, his face resting on the curve of my neck. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“You don’t text someone ‘at least i’ll die happy today knowing that my last meal was shoyu ramen’ and then not fucking reply after.” We were still standing by the entrance, his face now angled towards me, a look of concern or anger mixed in his face, I couldn’t tell. My cerebral cortex functions seemed to have shut down after witnessing this unexpected tenderness. 
“Medicine knocked me down cold.” I shrugged weakly. 
Shohei pulled me into the bedroom and tucked me back in, apologizing for his intrusion, putting down plastic bags of what seemed to be groceries on the kitchen counter, and went back to lightly scolding me for proper texting etiquette to family and friends, to anyone really. That my dark humor doesn’t translate well in messages and that I could have really died and people would think I’m joking but really, he got so scared that he went here as fast as he could.
I don’t remember much but in between fever dreams and my ibuprofen haze, I faintly remember the savory taste of rice porridge exploding in my mouth, the constant dabbing of a cold towel on my face, neck and chest, sometimes, my back, too; the smell of rubbing alcohol and a large, gentle, almost loving touch. 
I don’t remember much but in between waking up in the darkness and stone-cold silence, I remember soft forehead kisses until I drifted back to sleep; of big strong arms enclosing me into a big embrace, as if to tell me, you can put your guard down now. you are safe here. 
I don’t remember much from coming in and out of slumber, but I remember thinking: wouldn’t it be nice if this wasn’t a dream?
======================================
Reset
In the end, I quit sports media on my own volition and got into a friend’s ceramics house. I have always had a thing for ceramics and sculpting as early as college, where I had met my then-professor and now friend–who happens to be the owner of mentioned ceramics house. She had always praised me and encouraged me to join her when she first opened the shop, but as someone who had musings for writing at the time, I politely declined and pursued, you guessed it, journalism. 
I’ve always been good at writing, no doubt, from the way professors always had a good word for me, but I always seem to get into the wrong places every time. Time moves fast if you’re a journo, if you’re slow, then the news is rehashed news, it would just be a late-night recap at a midnight slot that no one is ever awake to watch. 
Here, inside her shop, it was quiet, and time moved slowly. I can get into my laziest clothes and no one bats an eye. I can finally retire my stilettos and straight cut blazers. 
It was all so going well. The customers were always mid-twenties who got interested in our social media marketing of creating your own mugs and other ceramics and always came in in groups, duos, and solos. 
Slowly, I realized that not everyone gets to the places they want. Even when you work blood and sweat for it. Not all were built like, say, Shohei Ohtani, whose talent was recognized early and afforded him an automatic slot in the big leagues.
Some are born to be big icons and some, like the rest of us, are meant for smaller, softer spaces. I get that now. It finally felt like I was in the right place and pace. 
All this positivity and good timing felt all too good to be true and been proven accurate when the scandal blew up. 
Shohei Ohtani photographed exiting his LA apartment with a woman in his arms.
Shohei Ohtani’s rumored girlfriend receives backlash from fans: READ MORE
EXCLUSIVE: More photographs of Shohei Ohtani and rumored girlfriend driving away in his Porsche
Rumored girlfriend of Shohei Ohtani: Who is She?
When I say it was everywhere, I meant it exploded right in front of our faces like a million confetti, falling and twirling fast. It was unstoppable. It was inevitable.
I felt my limbs go numb when I read the morning news. There in bold and black letters was the headline, my name and a clear photo of me holding Shohei’s arm, smiling. A certain news outlet had gotten juice of us and our secret hideouts and had spread all over social media like wildfire. You know what’s funnier? The media outlet that released this was my previous employer. The same company that asked me to snuff out a controversy. While I had failed to give them the news they wanted, I had unintentionally brought them an exclusive that wrote my entire name–and face–off the map and potentially ruined Shohei Ohtani’s clean record. 
Shohei Ohtani, despite his happy-go-lucky and passive demeanor, was a very serious and straight-laced person. I already knew this in university but I got to see more of this side of him when we had started the fucking thing. Even though I had clearly told him that I didn’t want any strings attached, it was unavoidable to give and receive bits and pieces of each other when we’re not naked. 
I  did enjoy talking to Shohei under the sheets. His ingenious ideas and the way he talked about the things he adored spilled all over him, like afternoon sunlight streaming in between curtains, making way even through the small spaces to cast his light. I basked into this warmth as much time allowed me, because who knows when I can experience the glow of his presence again after all the chaos. 
He was exactly like the golden hour: a warm afternoon orange luminescence that usually only stays for ten to fifteen minutes a day. If you wait too long to look up, he disappears quickly as he goes, leaving only the faint orange, yellow and pink hues chasing after him before the black of the night takes over you. 
Well, now the fairytale has run its course and the sun has set to announce that golden hour is over. Night has finally fallen on me and I’m feeling scared and alone.
The first thing I did was to grab as much stuff as I could and put them all in my luggage and filed for an indefinite leave. 
As if like clockwork, my phone rang and saw Shohei’s name on the caller ID. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. What could I possibly say to him? That I used him just for the clicks and the views? That after all this time we spent together, he would realize that I am still the same despicable, scathing piece of garbage who’d trample on anyone just for a few cents?
So I don’t answer. Even when he calls back again and again and leaves me twenty or more messages by the hour. I turned my phone off. The latest message from Ohtani coming up on the notifications bar read, “Where are you?” before the screen flashed to black. 
I have nothing but my pride left. I’d like to keep it that way.  In such a way, I was embarrassed, too. I thought I finally had something to brag about. A job that I actually liked and enjoyed, a peaceful mind, and the possibility of liking a guy who had shown me nothing but kindness. 
And because I couldn’t handle all of this, I handled it like I have always handled things: I ran away like a coward. 
I rode a bus without reading its destination card and let it drive me away as far as it could, to someplace where no one knew me or Shohei Ohtani, or had any idea about the news. 
The bus drove away and I never looked back. 
================================
Waiting Until My Spring Comes Again: Shohei’s POV
Just like that I lost her. She wasn’t even mine to begin with. 
When the news broke out, I was so furious that I wanted to drive to the news outlet that published the article and give them a piece of my mind. I knew my blind rage would have done more damage so I didn’t.
Instead, I looked for her and wanted to let her know that whatever happens, I won’t drop her just like that. That I’m willing to acknowledge the rumors and make it official, if she wanted to. 
I’ve always been open to the idea of taking it to the next level with her but every time I broached the subject, she would change the topic, get into a foul mood, or try to pick a fight with me. Which I found endearing. She’s so adorable when she pouts. And when she pushes her luck thinking a five foot four girl like her can withstand someone as tall as me. 
I just can’t help but laugh and feel a flutter in my stomach. She’s someone who has been adorable and held a special corner in my heart. 
Y/N’s face was so expressive and whatever emotion she was in it would always be evident on her face. When she’s happy, a dimple on her cheek shows up. When she’s feeling sad or down, she’d look downcast and would prefer that you leave her alone. When she’s thinking about something deep, she would chew on her lower lip and always had a blank almost unfocused stare. Despite her many faces, I’m sure as hell that I love all of them. I wanted to be by her side when all this shit happened, I wanted to see which face she was making. Is she pissed like I was? Is she sad? I wouldn’t know. The moment her number didn’t connect after I had tried reaching her, I already knew that she was avoiding me. 
I lost count of how many messages I had sent her, of how many missed calls and voicemails I left her. She was unreachable. She gave me her spare key so when I tried visiting her apartment, it was empty. 
She was gone. 
And only the traces of her lingered in her apartment. Her unwashed mug with leftover stale coffee was on the kitchen counter, specks of lipstick staining the mouth. Dirty clothes hanging on her bathroom door, forgotten and unwashed. The peachy scent of her purifier that always latches on to her clothes whenever we go out. Her unread books on her coffee table, some dog eared and annotated. 
Everything that I love about her is here except for her and I miss her. 
For the next couple of days, I dodged the media and focused on training, playing and practicing. Those three over and over again. I tried to not think about her and lose sleep because of her. An athlete’s wellbeing is connected to quality sleep. 
But she was everywhere I went. Pieces of her were scattered all over the places I avoided, and it was my fault really, for bringing her to places we usually hid. For hoping that someday, the secrets we hid would be our stories to tell. Now I just let her memories rot inside my heart, where she should be. 
I thought it would be easier when you just let it slip by but the more days that passed without seeing her, the more I feel a gnawing pain in my heart. She had sucked all my sunlight and took it all away with her. 
I want her back. 
=====================================
My Answer is You
Eleven days. It took me nine days to realize running away was a bad idea. 
When I first got off the bus, I thought the place looked familiar. Turns out, I rode the bus to my hometown, to the very south and the last bus stop until it turned around to go back to the city. 
When I appeared in front of my mom–the first time in a long time–she had immediately said, “Did something in the city?”
The moment she asked, I broke down in tears. She shushed and consoled me while I cried like a little kid. Like the way I had bawled to her when my first boyfriend broke up with me, or when my love birds died from illness, the other from loneliness. 
It feels like I would die of loneliness, Mom. I had said.
Did he really say that? Did he tell you that it’s over? She cooed.
I was embarrassed to admit to my mom that no, Shohei had never told me anything because I had shut him out even before I could give him the chance. But what if that call was already the end of it all? What if answering his call meant exactly what I had thought. That would shatter me more. 
So, no, Mom, you can call your daughter a coward but in her heart, it’s all over. 
The next forty-eight hours at home was a blur. After feeding me with what feels like a day’s worth of homemade dishes, she made me wash the dishes, clean my old room, and the living room as well. And when that wasn’t enough, she made me go with her to the night market and bought whatever seafood she could find to feed me. 
Is this what you did when Dad left? I wanted to ask her. Did you go around acting as normal while nursing a wounded heart? Did you go all through that facade just to show me that you were strong for the both of us?
She had her back to me, her hands pale and creased with age, showing signs of passage of time and her hardwork to put me to school. I know she was trying to make me busy to keep my mind off of Shohei. I’m not sure if she fully understands the scandal but she was trying her best to keep my head above the water. Probably just like how she always did. 
I wish I was strong like you, Mom. 
On the fourth and fifth day, she had let me work under the sun harvesting corn. Which I absolutely despised. I had to wear sun hats and these jumpers to cover myself from the heat. 
“It’s cheap labor for letting you stay and eat my food,” she said when I complained. “Tomorrow, you’ll help me sell these at the market.”
As the days grew idly by, I’ve grown more accustomed to rising early and eating less meat and more vegetables. I willingly went out of the sun more to do housework, like hanging clothes, watering Mom’s plants, however, I was still not willing to harvest her vegetables, which she made me do a lot. When I say a lot, it means everyday since then. 
On the eleventh morning, I woke up earlier than usual and found my mom already awake. She busied herself with a cup of coffee. 
“Good morning, mom.” I yawned, grabbing my own mug. 
“After breakfast, pack your things and go back to the city.” She said quietly.
“Huh?” I’m not sure I heard her right. Is she kicking me out?
She pushed today’s newspaper into my hands and pointed at an article. An article shows a picture of Shohei smiling at the camera, behind him was a framed candid photo of me turning my head just in time when the camera clicked, I was wearing a sleeveless shirt, a shawl draped over my shoulders, and the wind blowing my hair and covering my face slightly. Just by looking at the photo, it looked like a time when Shohei and I drove to the beach. He had brought his camera and took a lot of photos. 
The article said, “Portfolio on Love: Shohei Ohtani’s Photographs Displayed for A Cause.”
“....and when the powerhouse athlete gets a day off, he plays around his camera and takes photos of anything, everywhere. He reveals Insider Today that for the first time ever, he is displaying his portfolio to the public at the Grand City Museum starting today until the 31st of the month, with the theme of “hello, love, are you there?”
“...’I don’t know how else to define love but this. I hope when the public sees this, they will instantly know that my photographs are a reflection of my love,’ he said.
“When asked if this was a confirmation to the rumors flying around recently, he just smiled sadly and said, "I'm hoping that this answers everyone’s questions, especially hers.”
“If your face is plastered on all of the newspapers, it wouldn’t make sense to stay here longer.” Mom said after a while. She had finished her breakfast and took them away to the sink.
“It doesn’t end well if you’re too afraid, my darling.” she said, not looking at me. “To love and to be hurt is to be brave. If it doesn’t work out after facing him, then by all means. Come home. My doors are always open for you. And I will feed you rice cakes while you harvest my corn.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. She wasn’t a hugger but welcomed my hug and patted me on the shoulders. “Now go, before all the chismosas wake up and corners you.”
I packed my bags and left home, my heart pieced back together. It was not wrong to go home and seek shelter. What I did wrong was leaving Shohei all alone when he took most of the fall. 
Five hours, one taxi ride, and a ten minute walk later, I arrived at the city museum, nervous, anxious, feeling a little lightheaded and hesitant. I wiped my sweaty palms and got inside. 
It was not as packed as I had expected, probably because it was a little over after lunch, though there was still a relatively big crowd overall. 
When I stepped into the hall featuring Shohei’s displays, I felt a surge of emotion. It was a collection of all the photographs of his loved ones. In a black and white collection, he had photographed his parents holding hands while walking in the snow, a photo of his dog sleeping idly on his couch, a photo of the football stadium in a wide angle shot, showing Ippei and the rest of his teammates playing a warm up game before practice. 
When I turned to a corner, that’s when I saw it. There were multiple frames hanging intricately on one side, showing all of the photos he took of me. One during university days, where I was showing him a strangely large eggplant during our photo walks at the market. There was another with me looking at him angrily for reasons I couldn’t remember, and a more recent one, in the middle, where he was holding my hand while I walked forward, back facing the camera. 
On the metal plate below were words that read in cursive: “2009–present. Moments of love that I hold dear.”
At that moment, tears had started rolling down my cheek and I couldn’t help but sob. The onlookers nearby started moving away, probably weirded out by the sudden burst of emotion over some piece of art.
They weren’t just pieces of art. These were moments when Shohei and I were together and maybe realized that it was love.
By then, someone on my left offered a handkerchief and I gingerly took it, wiping my tears-strewn face. I muttered an apology for ruining the fabric.
“This is not the first time someone cried in front of my photographs. Some were absolutely heartbroken after seeing them.” a man’s voice said. And that reeled me back as I turned around and saw Shohei standing in front me.
“I knew this would lure you back,” he said, smiling.
His face was a little gaunt and tired. He had dark circles around his eyes that I’ve never seen before. I could only look at him and he looked back. I had so many things I wanted to say to him, so many things I wanted to explain but he spoke first and said:
“Did you get a tan?” he started, raising an eyebrow.
“I-I was harvesting corn!” I said, covering my face with both hands. I didn’t even have the time to put on makeup or a swab of lipstick and that’s the first thing he notices.
He took my hands and held them tightly against his chest. “No one looks this beautiful even after harvesting corn.”
“Shut up,” I said looking away.
He tipped my chin and held my face. “Let’s start again, shall we?” 
I raised an eyebrow in question.
“Hi, my name is Shohei Ohtani. I’m an athlete and an amateur photographer sometimes. I’ve been in love with the girl in the photographs since forever.”
I managed a smile and laced my hands around his neck. “Hi, I’m a ceramics maker and sometimes, a farmer, you should see the corn I harvest. You look so familiar. I think you look like my future boyfriend.”
His eyes perked up and laughed at our silly little game. He went in for a kiss and I obliged, feeling safe and brave in his arms.
Let them take the damn photographs and write the articles all they want, but they could never take my sunshine away ever again. 
162 notes · View notes
1racoon7trenchcoats · 5 months
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The whole 'you look like that homeless guy' line in npmd is actually kinda horrifying to me
Prefacing this with I haven't paid much attention to the npmd discussion as a whole and that it's been forever since I've watched Time Bastard (I really should watch that again but holy shit)
Seeing this guy every day that you don't know is basically a fucked up version of your brother and just. Going On with your life. I don't think Ted remembered any of it but imagine also seeing your brother all the time and just not being able to know why you get the weird feeling that you know him. You ask him for change every day bc he has a bowtie so he must be rich and you feel like you've seen his face from more than just roaming around the streets and you feel like you've heard his voice but it is just a mosaic you can't think about right now because you need to find some roadkill for dinner.
And then suddenly he and his weeb are trying to pin a murder of a high school kid on you that you. Probably didn't do
186 notes · View notes
fictionalfog · 2 months
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Friendly reminder that it's completely fine to like characters who are objectively bad people. No, there isn't a "bad person" limit where it stops being okay to enjoy, be interested in, or even be attracted to a character.
When is it bad to like a character who is a bad person?
It becomes bad if you try to justify, minimize, or emulate their bad behaviour.
...That's it. That's when it's a problem. Not when you like them, not when you make content about them, not when you analyze or discuss them. It becomes an issue if, and only if, you try to convince yourself and/or others that what the character is doing is okay.
Do you like a character who gaslights people? That's cool!
Do you think gaslighting is okay when the character does it? That's less cool!
Do you think gaslighting is okay, just in general, because a character you like does it? That's not cool!
Are you going to go out and gaslight people in real life to be like your fave? You need to stop.
If you like a character who objectively sucks as a person, just own it. One of my favourite characters of all time is Bill Cipher. The child-murdering, body-possessing, face-shuffling, arsonist dorito bastard man! He's a completely and utterly horrible person, and that's why I love him! And that's okay, because I'm not running around giving deer teeth to eight-year-old megalomaniacs in my spare time. Just playing my silly little piano and drinking my silly little cocktails and wearing my silly little bowties.
TL;DR - Don't be a coward & don't be a dick. If you can manage that, then you have the right to like whatever damn characters you want. Yes, even if they should be in prison.
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timeslugarts · 1 month
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First Play
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Vox x Vera (oc)
So I wrote this just now, my first ever nsfw piece, smut and all!
Vox and Vera's first encounter meeting at Valentino's party.
And all the fun they have 😘
Also, please let me know if you like this, I'm constantly embarrassed by my writing.
No beta we die like men
God, this party sucked Vox thought as he downed his drink. He had things he could be doing right now, money he could be making! Valentino insisted he come to this event though, he needed someone there not just to look pretty but to show off the power and influence he had, and Vox was that lucky bastard. 
It was exactly the type of party you'd think Valentino would throw. Hot, sweaty, sickly sweet. The bodies in the middle ebbed and flowed with the music, everywhere he looked people were grinding, and making out and doing… more. Vox grimaced, people really had no shame, no sense of decorum. There were sex rooms RIGHT THERE for Christ's sake!
Valentino was graceful enough to give Vox a VIP space, though he was the only there and would likely be the only there until he made an expeditious retreat at a reasonable time. 
Another drink appeared at his table, he took it and downed it in one go. He could feel the headache start to form with each boom of the bass. You think Valentino would at least grace Vox with his presence considering he was here for him after all. Vox could see Val at the other end of the room, surrounded by his whores, making out with one while his hand was suspiciously hidden under another's clothes. Vox couldn't say he was jealous, but he definitely wasn't pleased. He was still glaring at Val when someone interrupted his line of sight. A woman walked in front of Val, her hips swaying with every step, bright blue flames danced around her neck gently, her hair a matching flame that licked upward. She was a beacon amidst the darkness of the crowd, and she was heading… straight for him.
Quickly Vox straightened his coat, fixed his bowtie, and checked his breath. Surely she was just like everyone else in this club, looking for whatever money and power she could get her grubby little hands on. He could at least have a little fun with it though, use her up and toss her out later. 
They made eye contact and Vox laid on his most charming smile, and then she walked right past him. His grin dropped, what the FUCK did she not realize who he was!? This was not gonna fly. He stood up looking for the little blue flames, she was over by the bar talking to some lowly sinner, who was also ugly, and short, and ugly. 
Vox had to play it cool though, show her what she could have. He walked to the bartender and asked him to get her another of what she was drinking. The bartender set to work and as he handed the woman her drink he pointed down the way at Vox, who plastered another charming smile on his face and gave her a cool two fingered wave. His little blue flame looked at him unimpressed, but waved back. She resumed her conversation with the sinner as if nothing had happened. 
Vox growled. 
He enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse, and he was nothing if not patient. He sat at the bar idly watching until the sinner and her talk, growing more bored by the second. He looked back at the bartender waving his glass, signaling that he wanted another one, a fresh glass was placed in front of him. He looked back over to where his prey sat …and she was gone. He panicked, eyes going wide looking for his little blue flame.
"You know, if you wanted to talk to me all you had to do was ask." She was leaning on the counter on his other side. He jumped, knocking the glass and its contents across the slick surface. 
"Shit." He hissed looking for the napkins or something to clean the mess up. 
"Don't worry, Nen's got it." She waved at the bartender who waved back. "Come on." She took his hand. He couldn't deny, this bitch was bold and it was turning him on. Her voice was silky and watching her ass in that tight black dress was a show. He could tell where she was leading him, one of the "private" rooms in the back of the club. 
Vox was salivating. Maybe this party wasn't so bad. 
His little blue flame produced a key from her cleavage and pushed the door open, beckoning him in. He was thrilled, he'd only been sleeping with Val recently, too lazy and tired to actually pursue someone that really interested him. So to have one fall in his lap felt exhilarating. 
He walked past her, giving her a smirk on the way inside. She followed behind, shutting the door and leaning against it. 
"So what did you want to talk about?" Her silky voice purred, an eyebrow delicately raised. 
He towered over her, placing a clawed hand on either side of her small frame. 
"Oh I think you know." Vox said lowly dipping his screen so it's more level with her head. 
Her small hands started undoing his bowtie, "I'm not sure what you're talking about." She batted her pretty lashes up at him. 
He trailed one clawed hand from her cheek down her neck and rested it on her clavicle. She shivered and he grinned at the effect he had on her. 
"Stop playing games, doll." She had swiftly undone his bowtie and the first couple of buttons on his dress shirt. The feel of her warm hands against his skin made him hiss. 
"I don't play games… doll." She gripped his collar and pulled his screen into a heated kiss. 
Vox gripped her shoulders pulling her closer to him. She moaned at the contact allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. She groaned feeling the subtle shocks from his tongue and fingers.
"Oh you're spicy." She gasped for breath, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. She ran her hands down his chest and he gasped at the contact. She pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side. 
She pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top, grinding her hips against the ever growing tent in his pants. "You're one to talk." He huffed out, letting out a low groan. 
He bucked his hips into her making her fall forward, hands landing on either side of his screen. He ran his hands up her sides groping at her breasts, squeezing and kneading the tender flesh. 
He swallowed her moan with another fiery kiss.
Lucifer, was she soft.
Small sparks danced across her body as his fingers gripped her body tighter.
"Careful honey, this is an expensive dress." She laughed. 
"I can work around that." Vox said quietly, working his claws down to the delightfully skimpy thong she was wearing underneath. He pressed one claw against her heat and in one swift motion he tore her undertakings to shreds. "Impatient are we?" She asked, grinding her bare wet pussy against his cock. 
"You have no idea." He groaned.
"Show me." She whispered. With that she shimmied down his body and began undoing his pants with deft hands. When his dick finally sprang free, he hissed feeling the cold air hit it. That feeling was quickly replaced with the warm wetness of her mouth. 
Vox could only make a strangled noise as her tongue swirled around his head. He gripped at her ponytail and bucked his hips into her mouth, she gagged, but accepted him. Her hand squeezed his shaft as she bobbed her head around him. His free hand clutched the pillow tightly, he was certain something tore, but he couldn't give a shit about it right now. Not when her mouth felt so damn good.
Too good. 
"Shit, stop." He whipped her head up by the pony, her mouth coming off his cock with a tasty pop. 
She grinned up at him, "had enough?" She licked her lips and he felt himself glitch. God she was hot and she knew it. 
"We're done when I say we're done." He growled pulling her back up to him kissing her and tasting himself on her lips. 
He grabbed her hips and flipped her on to her back. She was beautiful, sprawled out beneath him. Lips glistening, chest heaving, and her little blue flames dancing around the two of them. 
He wrapped his hand around himself, pressing his cock against her wet folds, covering himself in her slick. He tried to keep his breathing even, but fuck was he excited. He couldn't wait any longer. 
Vox pushed himself into her, the moan she let out was so lewd. He could feel the sweat on his back, it was taking all his concentration not to come here and now. Before he had even settled in she started to move, how was she so good? Val could never.
He began to move with her hips, slow languid thrusts, enjoying her tightness and the view in front of him. Her hands trailed up and down his body, nails scratching at the skin. He snapped his hips when she pinched his nipple. 
"Ah- fFf-uck." The smile she wore was sultry, she had him wrapped around her long gray fingers. He snapped his hips again and she moaned. He sped up, he could handle it, besides the way her breasts bounced with every thrust had him mesmerized. 
He continued at the rough pace, she had wrapped her legs around his hips. He was so close, the way she smelled, the alcohol in him, he knew he wasn't going to last.
He wasn't going to finish before her though. He placed his thumb harshly on her clit, she moaned, gripping the sheets. He circled the bundle of nerves until she was gasping, mouth open wide. He took his other hand and pressed into the sides of her throat, she made a choked sound. 
Drool started to trail down from her mouth to his hand. Vox grinned as he continued to fuck her hard. Before he knew it, her back arched and her walls clenched around him sucking his cock into her. 
"Fuck!" She screamed, muscles taught. 
That was his cue, thank Satan, he wasn't sure he could keep going. He pulled out and came onto the floor. Val would pay the bill, whatever, he didn't care.
He fell on the bed next to her panting and sweating. 
Her little flames danced around his head as he looked lazily at them. One of them even flew to turn the room light off. 
Vox stuck his fingers out and a flame dipped in between them. It felt warm, not hot, but just a gentle heat. "What are these things?" 
"Mmm, I'll tell you later." She said quietly, eyes already closed. She snuggled up into his side breathing gently. 
Did he want this? He wasn't sure, but maybe he could pretend to be a normal nobody with a beautiful woman for a night. He dropped his arm around her and slowly powered down. Listening to the crackle of her small flames, and the soft sound of her breathing. He was out before he knew it.
BZZ BZZ
"Fuck!" He reached around for his phone before finding it and throwing it across the room, before placing it back on the bed which had grown cold. He snapped his head up, no one was there. 
Fuck.
He looked around, she was gone. 
Fuck. He pulled his pants up and put his shirt on. Fuck fuck fuck. 
Vox dashed out of the room, it was morning and he was entirely alone. He checked his pockets, his wallet was gone. 
What a fucking idiot. He got conned! Played for a sucker!
He slammed the door open to Valentino's room, "who was she!?" Vox growled darkly. 
Valentino in a robe with a face mask on looked over at Vox uninterested in whatever he was saying. 
"Who was who darling?" 
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bullet-prooflove · 6 months
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You Send Me - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader
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Tagging:  @crazy4chickennuggets  @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @anime-weeb-4-life @chaoticqueenie98 @fanfic-n-tabulous @wakeama @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @msjava1972 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @darqchilddaydreamz @ankhmutes @goblinenby @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @crimeshowjunkie @theeyesofthestag @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @justreblogginfics
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Chibs doesn’t plan to attend the charity event at City Hall, at least not initially. However, it’s been a busy couple of months, with Galen’s death and the club’s transition out of the gun game, the fact you orchestrated it without any casualties…
It’s just another example of you going above and beyond for the club. Your intervention prevented a war, one that would have ended with bloodshed on both sides. He knows what it cost you to make that deal. He knows the victory is bittersweet. It’s another reason that he loves you, like him you make the hard decisions, the ones that benefit everybody.
The two of you are a power couple, Bobby had remarked last night, but it’s always on your terms.
Chibs hadn’t realised that until the other man mentioned it. He’s right, of course, he always is. You’ve been there for the club and for him, so now it’s his turn to be there for you.
He turns a few heads as he walks through the foyer. He cleans up well, he knows he wears the fuck out of this tuxedo, his beard is neatly trimmed, and his hair slicked back. That’s not the reason they’re looking at him though. He knows he has a reputation. Never in a million years, does he belong here with these people, but you do and that’s why he’s here tonight.
He didn’t get to see you before he left, he’d been tied up in Stockton but when he lays eyes on you right now, he can’t help but remember why he first fell in love with you.
You’re a fucking vision.
You’re wearing a nude-coloured dress that hugs your curves, the sleeves beaded with silver crystals that fall across your bicep, your hair is coiffed like a movie star from the fifties. You’re holding court like a queen, a glass of champagne in your hand as you discuss one of your cases. You’re in your element, your expression animated as you engage the three older men. He can tell the one on the left is attracted to you, it’s in the way he lingers in your proximity. When the other two drift back to the bar, he leans in close as he says something to you, and you give him a look that could freeze the devil in the very depths of hell.
It’s then that Chibs feels the urge to intervene, he knows how much you hate people in your personal space, it’s worse now since Galen and the fact the other man is crossing that boundary… It ignites something violent inside of him. He has no doubt that you can handle yourself but that protective instinct, it surges through every single one of his nerve endings. He strides towards you with purpose, his palm coming to rest on your lower back as his lips brush lightly over your temple.
“I’m sorry I’m late love.” He says in his thick Scottish lilt before he meets the other man’s gaze with ire.
His demeanour changes instantly. His eyes stray to the scars embedded in Chib’s skin before he swallows hard. He knows who he is, everyone here does. He may not be wearing his kutte or have his tattoos on display, but they know. You don’t keep your relationship a secret.
“My partner, Filip Telford.” You introduce him.
Chibs narrows his eyes just a little and the other man retreats, tugging at his bowtie as he disappears towards the bar.
“And thank you for scaring off that asshole.” You say, tilting your head up towards him.
That fucking smile. It gets him every time.
It’s like seeing the sun blossom over the horizon for the very first time. His thumb chases over the blush of your cheek, his lips brushing over yours. The kiss is heated and soft, filled with a tenderness that he reserves only for you.
“I know I haven’t been much of a partner recently; I’m trying to work on that.” He says gruffly as his forehead comes to rest upon yours.  
“I know how it is.” You tell him, your fingertips trailing along the back of his neck as he holds you close. “You’ve been managing a very volatile situation.”
The two of you are at the edge of the dance floor. The music shifts into Sam Cook’s ‘You Send Me’ and you find yourself swaying in time with it. It feels like you’re the only two people in the world right now, this moment, the sensation of being with Filip, it’s perfect.
“You’re the most important thing in the world to me love.” He tells you, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t you ever doubt that.”
Love Chibs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Can't get enough of Chibs? Check out his Masterlist here!
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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
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staticsketchbook · 2 months
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@velen-is-full-of-mud
Ted sat on the sidewalk in front of Beanie's, just  down the street from CCRP. It had been fifteen years since he worked there. Fifteen years since he stepped through the temporal rift in his office. Fifteen years since he became stranded in time.
He shivered, pulling his faded coat closer around him. He tried not to think about the past these days. Instead, he focused on simply surviving. He heard a bell ring behind him, meaning someone had just stepped out of Beanie's. He stood up, his hands outstretched. "Spare change for the homeless?"
He met eyes with a teenage boy clutching a coffee cup. "Oh, um, sorry. I don't have anything."
Ted's eyes went wide. "Petey?"
It was Peter. His kid brother. He looked just as he did before he messed with time. The same big glasses, the same bowtie and suspenders he used to tease him about. He noted the cup in his hands. Petey always did like the hot chocolate at Beanie's. It helped with his low blood sugar.
Peter froze. To him, this man was a complete stranger. "Excuse me?"
"Petey!" He grinned. "It's you, it's really you!"
His eyes darted to the side, slowly backing away from Ted. "Okay, you're freaking me out- hey!" Ted suddenly grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. "Let go!" Peter yelled, dropping his hot chocolate to the ground. He yanked his arm back, but couldn't pull himself loose from Ted's grasp.
"Petey, listen to me-"
"Hey, asshole, back off!" Another figure rushed onto the scene. Ted was suddenly shoved to the pavement. Peter stumbled backwards, rubbing his wrist while he took cover behind the newcomer.
Ted looked up to see himself, fifteen years younger and pissed off. He blinked up at him. It was a bizarre thing, to see himself from a different time. He remembered when he wore those same clean clothes, the same neat hair. But that wasn't him anymore.
The younger Ted scowled down at the homeless man. He raised a fist. "Scram, buddy! Before someone really gets hurt!"
Ted shot one last look at Pete. He was visibly shaking, looking to his brother for guidance. He felt a pang in his chest. Then he scrambled to his feet and ran off.
The younger Ted let out a relieved sigh. He turned to Peter, placing his hands on his shoulders and looking him over. "You okay? Did he hurt you?"
"No," he said, absentmindedly rubbing his wrist. "He just scared me, that's all."
"Good, good." He quickly pulled him into a hug. Peter hugged him back. Ted looked over his shoulder, just catching the homeless man duck into an alley a few blocks away. He scowled. "Fuckin' bastard."
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manicpixiefelix · 2 months
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The Cattons and Reader were definitely in attendance for the wedding in Crazy Rich Asians 💍
Ooft the absolute role reversal tho, because I love the Cattons, but I don't think they're important enough outside of the UK to warrant an invite. Like yes they have land and a title, but the guest list includes billionaires and Princesses of entire countries, you know? Elspeth, James, and Venetia unfortunately do not get an invite, but are well aware of the event, of course.
Farleigh gets an invite because I believe that he genuinely became friends with Colin (the groom) and Araminta (the bride) during Oxford (despite his well known crush on Nick Young), and because of his tangential attachment to the reader. Felix gets an invite for a similar reason, but mostly because they want to skip the formality/possibly insult of just assuming he would be the reader's plus one. because the Reader is The Big Name to get invited from their Group. The kind of invite that makes their parents call them and tell them "if you don't go your grandfather will be rolling in his GRAVE" when they literally don't even call at holidays or birthdays.
Farleigh showing his own weird selfish kind of caring as he advises Reader and Felix not to bring Oliver along - "you think our family is bad? They will eat him fucking alive, and leave you lovesick bastards with only bones; if you love Oliver as much as you claim, you won't subject him to Colin and Araminta's wedding festivities bullshit" (Oliver is Right There when he says this btw; he's also very offended, you've all been together for ten years, he knows how to handle rich people bullshit by now)
Manifesting Farleigh & Rachel Chu friendship btw. He absolutely fucking adores her and does tell her about his crush on Nick from 10 years ago, but is genuinely so happy for them and stands with her against all the over the top Rich People bullshit and mind games.
Also Farleigh, Cousin Oliver, and Peik Lin power trio.
(also Cousin Oliver ends up l rather enamored with Your Oliver, thinks he's so charming and cute and novel. Everyone here calls your Oliver 'Ollie' to distinguish.)
Also this got SO MUCH LONGER than I intended holy shit I love this and I just wanted to talk about you and Ollie and Felix and the Crazy Rich Asians AU, so it's under the cut;
But again I just want to see that role reversal of absolutely everyone who's anyone who's part of the wedding knowing who Reader is but no-one knowing either of the boys on their arms (very occasionally someone will recognise Felix, but it's so rare). You prepare for parties back home, and often abroad if you have to, but you have always shrunk away from any kind of spotlight or acknowledgement of your true status. Felix has seen it once or twice when you were still teenagers, but it wasn't at big events. Never on this scale.
"Oh, surprised to see this," Cousin Oliver, with Rachel Chu's arm tucked in his by the bar in the Young's home, Farleigh practically draped over his shoulder while they're both drinking martinis and giving Rachel the family gossip, has spotted you, Felix, and Ollie. Farleigh snorts. Rachel, confused, asks what's surprising, "didn't think they'd show their face...s here."
"Who are they?" Rachel asks directly this time, watching Eleanor, Nick's mother approach you, and you give her a warm smile, which she barely returns with her handshake, though it's more than Rachel feels like she got.
"A representative of one of the family's oldest international friends and business partners, and our second biggest controversy of the events to come, of course behind you snagging the crown prince, dear," Oliver says with a wry smile, taking another sip of his drink before he pats Rachel's hand.
Across the way, all three of them watch Ollie grab Felix's attention to fix his bowtie, and both of them appear to talk quietly together for a moment, Felix's hand on Ollie's arm, who rests his free hand atop that in a fond familiarity. Every so often they glance at you, the way you're glowing with confidence as you speak so easily to the icy matriarch, both of them with such adoration and pride in their eyes.
"Tell me you're kidding," Farleigh rolls his eyes, finishing his own drink, but Cousin Oliver's insistent.
"The elusive sole heir to the Y/L/N multi-national media and technology empire? Who has managed to evade real publicity for decades until now," Oliver turns his head just barely to raise an expectant eyebrow at Farleigh's disbelief, "bringing two little boyfriends to the biggest event in our part of the world in recent history?"
Farleigh orders another, much stronger drink after that. Least of all because he's never in his life heard his cousin referred to so dismissively as the 'little boyfriend' of anyone.
Yeah.... Honestly apart from Elspeth and Sir James, obviously, you'd never made it entirely clear Exactly how big of a deal your family is.
So its the first proper time Farleigh, Felix, or Ollie has seen you embrace your true status and all that comes with it, allowing yourself to be confident and eye catching and flex your status and well honed event preparatory skills on a whole other level.
They got a little taste of it in the week before you all left, as you had pulled all three of them in at various times to talk about their wardrobe for the time that they were there. You'd hired a tailor to come to the house and ordered not only custom suits, but even tailored casual wear, an entire wardrobes worth of clothes for every single one of them that would be sent directly to the hotels you'd be staying at while there. They barely needed to pack a thing. Not only were the clothes of expensive material and quality, and fit perfectly, but you'd absolutely nailed each and every one of their styles and requests. The fact that you hadn't even mentioned money, simply said that all the clothes were theirs, for the event and forever if they wanted them, and Elspeth and Sir James seemed a little startled by the gesture when Farleigh and Felix told them, that gives a hint of not only what you're worth, but the expectations and eyes that will be on you at the event.
And they are. Everyone's eyes are on you, and you meet each and every gaze without flinching. You know everyone and their business. You are truly a sight to behold. This is the first time Felix genuinely understands what people mean when they say he's like the sun; the effortless charm and warmth and confidence you exude at all these events is Oxford!Felix but tenfold.
(however it does take a toll on you; after a lot of the big events you tend to get incredibly clingy and can become semi- or even entirely nonverbal, sometimes shutting down altogether. do I low-key headcanon the reader as neurodivergent because I am and can't really write neurotypical characters? YES. the point is Ollie and Felix learn very quickly that the minute other people can't see you all, usually once you're all in the car on the way back to the hotel, you'll be clinging to one or both of them. they understand how much this is effecting you, but very quietly are endeared and a bit amused by how much you clearly hate being seen as The Sun, the Most Important One in their relationship dynamic)
(also to make up for this, on days when you can just chill out and go sight seeing, or spend time with Nick and Rachel, or Colin and Araminta, in ways that are far more low-key, your real dynamic shines through. Felix and Oliver will take the lead (Oliver's grown much more confident and comfortable within your relationship and his place in this rich people's world to interact and form genuine bonds and connections with the people around you and Felix) and you're happy to just relax and trust them and enjoy genuine conversations.)
(Rachel Chu was incredibly intimidated by you when she first met you, but is shocked to meet you again in a low-key environment, and realises she enjoys your company far more there. Also she and Oliver have a weird fondness for each other. No-one quite knows how they get along so well despite their "common" upbringings, which are otherwise vastly different.)
But also the reader being able to properly let go and not give a shit about their reputation or how they're meant to act at Colin's bachelor party. Them being so ready to lose their mind, and them being so grateful to Nick's cousin Eddie for throwing it all together (and unfortunately not noticing that Colin and Nick aren't having a great time... But they get to have their little helicopter chill bros getaway, Ollie, Felix, and Reader get to enjoy the party barge with everyone else). Cousin Eddie being a creep but Reader matching his energy -
Eddie, drunk and definitely high: you guys actually all get freaky together? you gonna fuck on the party barge or what?
Reader, also drunk and definitely high, half draped on Felix who has an arm around them, his cheeky smile pressed against the crook of their neck, they also have one leg on the ground and the other kicked out over Ollie's lap, both his hands holding their thigh, giggling to himself: (faux offended) EDDIE! ... We obviously already have!
Ollie, leaning forward to grin conspiratorially, and pull your other leg into his lap: this is just an intermission, my man.
[reader and Felix burst into giggly laughter alongside Ollie but also the three of them are quickly becoming possibly too handsy for how many people are around..... Tho there's very few sober people, and even less who really care, anyways....]
cousin Eddie learning that the controversial threesome of the event is getting fucked up and kinky with each other on his party barge:
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lmfao why do I think Cousin Eddie is unironically their biggest supporter. He's a little creep but he's not judgemental of them, that's for sure.
Also, for the record, Farleigh too is having the time of his life on the party barge. Good for him.
Oh my god how could I forget Astrid tho omg. Astrid is the other #1 Felix/Reader/Ollie champion. Also in the past decade she's kept in touch and genuinely very close with them, so she is well aware how much this is all overwhelming the reader. As much as they love Ollie and Felix, because of the stark difference in their standings, they have to constantly be On around the boys in these social settings, because it's what's expected of them. Astrid is the only person the reader feels like they can, for lack of a better phrase, hide behind in these settings, because she occupies a very similar space to them in the social hierarchy, but is so clearly more comfortable in her role within it. Well it's close enough that the reader tends to go semi-verbal around Astrid and defers to her if they're in a conversation together with other people. Ollie and Felix know it's a coping mechanism but they still feel kind of weird about it.
There's literal press outside of the wedding; flashing cameras, news reporters, paparazzi and everything. You kind of feel like you're going to be sick when they call your name. Your full name. Your only solace is that it's not your dead name. People desperate for your attention. People desperate to seperate you from Ollie and Felix - nobodies to them; lessers. But you hold your ground, even if your heads spinning and everything feels a bit too loud and fuzzy and bright -
"You don't print my name without theirs; you don't print my image alone," your voice holds firm, "Felix Catton and Oliver Quick." Oh fuck you're definitely on the verge of throwing up. There's so many faces and names around you that you know, that you've memorised in case it came to this; it seemed unnecessary at the time, but you were the heir to a multi-national media empire, you wanted to know local faces and talent could be linked back to you and your family.
"So you're making a statement?" a particularly nosy journalist with a cameraman in tow shoves a microphone into your face. Before making the statement, you confirm who she was filming for. Felix and Oliver both try defending you against the smug journalist, but she focuses back on you, hoping to have caught you in a moment of weakness, "so you and your family are happy with -"
"The fact that I love two people? That I have for years? Yes;" the sudden firmness of your voice genuinely surprises her, but before she can go, tail between her legs, you reach out for the microphone, "we're less happy with the thirty-two percent decrease in your viewership in the last quarter since your defamation lawsuit settled out of court. You have a prime-time spot; where's your damn integrity?"
The journalist looks like you kicked her dog in front of her. As you take both Ollie and Felix's hands and head inside, you hear her sulkily demand the camera turn off, that they're done for the day.
But oh man, the wedding itself -
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Reader, Felix, Ollie, and Farleigh all sit in the back row, and are just awestruck by everything about the event. Because Christ it's beautiful. Also you all know there's been some upset with the Youngs surrounding Rachel Chu, but she shows up looking so beautiful, and she gives you all a warm smile when she glances back from her bold seat beside the princess to smile at you all.
"This what our wedding's going to be like?" Ollie whispers as you're all asked to rise for Araminta's entrance, and water begins to ripple down the aisle while you're all holding up the delicate firefly props you'd been given before the ceremony. Felix, on your other side, laughs softly, having caught the question, and you can't help but grin.
Also one last thing; please imagine the three of you slow dancing at the reception, but it's so stupid and cheesy, because it's all three of you at once, well aware that you all look silly, just swaying back and forth and trying not to step on each other's toes. Ollie is in the middle. None of you can stop giggling and talking about how lovely the wedding was.
"They look so happy together," Rachel murmurs, genuinely endeared by the sight of you three on the dance floor, despite others disparaging looks that you're clearly ignoring, to Farleigh, having run into him for just a moment.
Farleigh sighs, and bites back every single snide comment that rushes through his head at once, rolling his eyes, though Rachel doesn't see.
"They are."
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dabletrablee · 2 months
Text
⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL S1 EP8⚠️
HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I THOUGHT I LOST MY FAVORITE SILLY GUY FOR A DAMN MINUTE!
Okay, chris aside, lemme break down Sir Pentious’ “death”.
So upon realizing that Adam directly needed to be defeated to stop the war with Heaven, and stop the extermination, Pentious KNEW he would probably die…
SO HE KISSED CHERRI BOMB AND TOLD HER TO REMEMBER HIM, THAT CORNY ASS BASTARD the way I would have done the same with my crush if I had one.
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AND IN THE SCENE FOLLOWING, YOU CAN JUST TELL HE MEANS BUSINESS! My baby’s all grown up🥹
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AND THEN ADAM JUST WIPES OUT PENIOUS’ WHOLE SHIP WITH A FLICK OF THE WRIST
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AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS IT, MY PRECIOUS LITTLE GUY, MY SILLY, MY SNAKE BOI, WAS GONE FOR GOOD! I wasn’t alone, right?
AND THEN HE SHOWS UP IN HEAVEN, BEING THE FIRST SUCCESS OF CHARLIE’S REHABILITATION PROJECT, AND “LIVING” ON!
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LIKE HOLY FUCK!
Also, Sera and Emily’s reactions, stop—
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They both recognize Pentious from the meeting in episode 6, and when they see him—
Emily looks THRILLED, Charlie managed to get a truly good person in Heaven. Sera looks HORRIFIED, Charlie managed to get a SINNER past the pearly gates!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I also wanna compare Sir Pentious’ sinner and redeemed look.
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Right of the bat the most obvious difference (other then the obvious color change) is his hood. It previously had a rounded edge, the closest thing to slits being the black coloring at the edge forming triangle shapes. In his new design the end of the hood has triangular edges. More on his hood, the eyes inside are gone, as are all the eyes on his tail too, however his hood does have several pink spots to resemble his eyes he had their before.
His googles have also been swapped for a nice pair of heart glasses. His hat changed too, the mouth on it appears to be gone (though that could just be the angle), and the hat itself looks less aggressive. Not to mention the halo. And the bowtie used to have an eye in the middle, now having a heart. The shirt under his suit jacket is also different now.
Now look, I don’t wanna be the basic bitch pointing out color changes, but there are some I find interesting, other then the black and grey of his clothes being white now.
His eyes were previously solid pink with black pupils, now the sclera is yellow with pink pupils, the same goes for his hat and even his goggles. Also I would like to point out all the black is gone from his appearance, not just his clothes, but his skin which used to be a dark grey/black is now purple looking.
Main point of this post, I’m glad my silly is alive (kinda) and redeemed!
Probably gonna make more posts for Hazbin soon.
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multi-fan-dom-madness · 6 months
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Midnight Masquerade - Echo
Chapter Summary: Echo is the lucky bastard who gets to fuck you—or maybe you're the lucky one.
Chapter Warnings: siren!Echo x gn!reader; kinks: formal wear + voice kink. unprotected penetrative sex (can be read as PiV or PiA), cum as lube, Echo has hair because I say so, this one's a little more tame on the 'monster'fucker front but I hope it ticks some boxes for y'all regardless; if I missed any warnings please lmk!
Word Count: 2.6k
Read the intro here! | Suggested listening
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...Echo. 
A round of wolf-whistles rises from the rest of the table (quite literally, in Hunter’s case). Echo jostles you with his elbow, a good-natured grin gracing his features. Quirking an eyebrow at him, you drink in the sight of him sitting next to you. His perfectly tailored suit hugs his body in all the right places, thighs straining against the fine material; the silken red bowtie at his neck draws your eye appreciatively down the strong column of his throat. His hair has grown back in a fuzzy nest of brown curls that he’s slicked back. In short, he looks positively mouth-watering. That’s exactly what happens as you rake your gaze over him.
“Get a room, you two,” Fives jeers, playfully tossing a balled up napkin at you. 
It bounces harmlessly off your face. You flash him a rude gesture before rising to your feet, offering your hand to Echo.
“Shall we?”
He takes your hand. Against your skin, his satin glove is smooth and warm, the strength of his grip belied by the entrapment. You suppress a shiver as you step away from the table, Echo trailing you, fingers laced through yours. 
As you begin to wind your way through the crowd, you shoot a glance over your shoulder to Echo. He smirks at you, one eyebrow raised as if in question. In the strobing, multicolored lights, he looks near ethereal, a vision stepped straight out of one of those high-end Coruscanti model holos. You bite your lip. 
His smirk deepens. Tugging you back against his chest, he wraps his scomp arm around your middle to hold you against his chest. He carefully presses his cheek to the side of your head, mindful of his headpiece, and inhales your scent.
“Care for a dance, cyare?” he asks.
A delightful, full-body tingle shivers through you at the way his voice rumbles against your ear. “You read my mind.” 
He hums, the sound sending another frisson of exhilaration cascading through all your nerves. Not releasing his hold on you, your hands still entwined where he brings them to rest on your hip, he finds the rhythm of the song, a deep, bassy, sexy beat that vibrates your bones. Gently, giving you enough leeway in case you decide you want to pull away, he guides your hips to the music. 
It’s all the encouragement you need. Circling your hips, you grind your ass against his crotch, earning a low, groaning chuckle. Snaking your hand free up and back, you thread your fingers through his curls. Echo turns his head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point just below your jaw.
A gasp escapes you, lost in the consuming bass of the music. He laves at that spot, nipping playfully. 
Emboldened by the shifting, partial lighting and his lips on your neck, you grind against him again as you draw his hand up your chest. A moan tumbles from you as the half-hard definition of his cock presses against you through layers of clothing. His fingers dance over your chest, tweaking a nipple through your shirt.
“Feel what you do to me, pretty thing?” he murmurs, voice sliding like honey over your ears. “Drive me kriffin’ crazy.”
You’ve never realized it before, but stars, you could listen to Echo talk all day. He could read a damn dictionary and you’d be enthralled. Turning your head, you peer up into his eyes, mere pinpricks of shine in the green-tinted lights flashing around you. Dropping your gaze to his lips, your eyelashes flutter. 
“What d’you want, cyare, hm? Tell me,” he urges, eyes fixated on your parted lips.
“I want,” you begin, voice tremulous, “I want to kiss you.” 
“You wanna kiss me?” he repeats, a dangerous smirk curling over his face.
Gulping, you nod. You don’t trust your voice now to not reveal the intensity of the fire scorching through your veins. 
With a contented sigh, Echo tips his head forward and captures your lips in a heated kiss. His scomp tugs you tighter against his chest as he practically ruts his hardness against your ass, When he tugs again at your nipple, you whimper into his mouth. Electricity sparks where he touches you. But he doesn’t relent, kissing you until you’re dizzy with want. Arousal pools hot and tight in your belly.
“Kriff,” you gasp as you pull away from his mouth, “kriff, Echo, stars.” 
He chuckles. His gaze sweeps over the crowd around you—but no one seems to be paying you any mind. “What’s the matter, sweetness?”
“Want you,” you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.
“Want me to what?”
His voice has dropped an octave, positively dripping with sex, and you shudder in his grasp. How can one person’s voice be so alluring, so enticing? 
Rather than using your words, you extricate yourself from his embrace and, crooking one finger with a coy smile, urge him to follow you again. A bemused smile graces his features; he slips his hand into his pocket as he steps after you.
You lead him towards the back hallway you’d caught sight of earlier, down a series of blind turns, and pick a door at random. Within, there’s a simple bed with silk sheets; dozens of candles, strewn on every available surface, cast the room in a cheery, cozy glow. Echo moves past you, surveying the room with a curious expression.
“This works,” you say, shutting the door. 
You take another moment to really, fully appreciate the specimen of a man before you. Echo gives you an indulgent smile. Backlit by the flickering candlelight, he looks divine; the crisp lines of his black suit outline his silhouette in exquisite fashion. Up close, you realize that the fabric isn’t solid black, but rather one shade of black embroidered with another, darker hue. Tracing one of the repeating designs, you reach with tentative fingers to unbutton the matching vest.
Only to gasp in surprise when his hand catches your wrist.
“You never answered my question,” he says. His gaze holds your own, deep and soulful and burning. Have his eyes always been that golden?
“Everything,” you say, the answer falling from your lips without a second thought. “I want you to do everything to me.”
His eyes fall to half-lidded, a sultry twist to his mouth. “Everything, cyare? That’s awfully broad. How am I supposed to pick?” 
Another shiver dances up your spine as goosebumps erupt all over your skin at his voice. Echo’s eyebrows twitch at your physiological response. 
“D’you like the sound of my voice, pretty little thing?” he asks, inflecting the words down, deeper, hotter.
Nodding, a more concrete idea of what you want crystallizes in your mind. “Love your voice, Echo. Can you— can you make me cum just by talking to me?”
He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. “Kriff, yeah, baby. Whatever you want. Want to get off from me telling you everything I want to do to your gorgeous body?”
You whine, pleasurable heat pulsing through your core.
“Alright, baby.” He gestures toward the bed. “Get undressed and get comfy.” 
“What about you?” you ask. You’re already shucking your clothes, but pause when he fixes you with an inscrutable look.
“Oh no,” he says, “you asked for my voice. The suit stays on. Fitting, that you’d ask me to whisper filth to you, when I’m dressed as a siren.”
Inhaling a short breath in surprise, you merely blink at him. He chucks you under your chin with a wink, then glances down at your state of half-undress. Swallowing, you hurry to strip out of the rest of the now-too tight garments and clamber up onto the silky smooth sheets. You prop yourself up with a number of plush pillows. 
“Good,” Echo murmurs. He perches on the edge of the bed, one thick thigh crossed under the other, his hand supporting the way he leans. “Such a good listener.” 
The praise coils through your ears and settles in your lower belly, simmering with an intense, acute heat. You can only nod, at a loss for words.
“Sit on your hands for me, baby,” he instructs. “Can’t have you cheating, now can we?” 
Your chest heaves with anticipation as you shift, sliding your hands beneath your butt to trap them there. Echo’s eyes flicker a brighter gold. For a moment, he lets you sit there, core aching, skin flushed and sweat beginning to dew. At the apex of your thighs, your arousal throbs, demanding to be touched.
“Bet you feel so soft,” he says. The way he murmurs the words makes you think it’s more a thought that slipped out than an intentional statement, but the effect is the same: your nipples pebble as if inviting him to touch. He clears his throat and continues. “Nearly lost my mind out there when you pushed your ass against my dick. Nearly took you right there on the dancefloor.” 
“F-Fuck,” you grit out. His voice caresses your skin, a physical presence. “W-Why didn’t you?”
“Didn’t want to put my vod’e to shame.” He chuckles. “Wanted you all to myself. Wanted to feel how you fall apart, just for me. Is that what you want, cyare? Gonna squirm for me?” 
As if by his request, you push your hips in his direction, silently begging. 
“Thought so,” he says. “Mm. So needy. I’m gonna make you cum just like this, and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk after, how’s that sound, gorgeous?”
“Yes, yes please, just keep talking,” you whine. The aching need in your core grows with each word he speaks, a spell weaving in the air around you, drawing your nerves along for the ride. 
“You felt so good against me out there,” he continues. “Warm and pliant and body fucking begging me to take you. Gonna make you feel so good, cyare. I’m gonna suck my mark into your neck, show everyone who makes you feel this good. Make sure they know whose cock was buried in you. Fuck, I bet you’re tight, bet you need a good fucking to loosen you up. That what you need, baby? Need to be fucked out?” 
You’re writhing at this point, hips jerking as if his words are physically touching you. “Y-Yes, stars, please!”
“Yeah, I know you need that.” 
You have enough awareness to catch movement in his lap—he’s fucking palming himself through his pants, and the sight draws a raw, cracking moan from your chest. His eyes bore into yours for a moment, an intense, glowing gold, and a jolt of pleasure rocks through you. 
“First I’d make you suck me off, get my dick all nice and wet. Your lips will look so good wrapped around me, kark. Don’t worry, I’d put my mouth on you, too. Tease you with my tongue until you’re begging for me to fuck you. 
“And then I’d slip into your tight hole—ngh, kriff—” He shudders, palm stilling over his crotch for a moment. “Make you scream for me, make you moan until your voice gives out. Then I’d make you cum again, all over my cock. Fuck, you’ll look so pretty when I fuck you like that, takin’ everything I give you.” 
Pleasure mounts in your body with every new word. The rough, raw edge to his voice only serves to rake tingling ecstasy over your entire body. In your belly, the knot of desire pulls tighter, tighter, tighter—you’re teetering on the precipice, ready to shatter at any moment. 
A sob wracks through your form. “Echo, please, need to cum!”
“I know, baby, I know you do,” he coos. “You wanna cum? Cum for me, pretty thing. Cum and then I’ll fuck you just like you need me to.” 
“Oh fuck—” Your moan chokes off into a strangled gasp as his command washes over you. All at once, the knotted core of need in your center snaps and unravels. Your back arches off the bed, hands scrabbling at the silk sheets for purchase as you cum, shouting incoherent praise to the room. Wave after wave breaks over you, each one drowning you in fresh pleasure.
Through it all, Echo murmurs sweet praise in your ear, his fingers finding purchase at your heated core. “That’s it, baby. Just like that, you’re doing so well. See? Promised you I’d make you cum, and now I’m gonna fuck you, okay, baby?”
Dimly, you register his words. Nodding, you think you beg for it—or maybe you’re just begging for the orgasm to keep going, for your body to keep convulsing and shuddering. Somewhere in the haze that begins to settle over your mind, you feel Echo’s hand grip your hip, holding your lower body still, and then he’s pushing into you, his cock slick with spit and your release.
You groan simultaneously. Walls fluttering around his thick length, you suck in lungfuls of air to steady yourself, the stretch a little painful but nevertheless immaculate. He’s so big; he’s everywhere, stuffed into your tight heat and filling your vision and caressing your flushed skin. 
“Kark,” he bites out. “Not gonna last long, cyare.” 
“S’okay,” you pant. “Please fuck me.” 
You don’t need to tell him twice. Snapping his hips against you, his balls slap your ass with every thrust, the erotic sound echoing in the small room. Gripping one of your thighs to his chest, he squeezes it as he drives his cock into you mercilessly, his jacket discarded and the rest of his clothes disheveled. All you can do is lie there and take it, keening brokenly. His cock grazes against that one spot deep in your heat that makes stars burst across your vision. Whining, you fist the sheets to ground yourself. 
“W-Where—” 
“Paint me,” you gasp. “Want your cum on me.”
He pulls out immediately, his cock throbbing. Ribbons of hot, white cum splatter over your chest and tummy. Eyes locked together, you have to fight to keep your own open to catch the way that his face twists with bliss as he cums. But he makes it difficult, working his hand over your center to draw out your second orgasm.
You spasm under his touch, weakly pushing his hand away in overstimulation. Core locked up with tight pleasure, it takes you several long moments to drift back down. Heart pounding, chest heaving, you glance up at Echo with a tired grin. 
He chuckles. “Holy kriff.” 
“You can say that again,” you say, huffing a laugh.
His cum has begun to dry on your skin; you glance around for a towel. Echo retrieves his jacket where he must have tossed it on the other end of the bed and gently wipes your skin clean.
“Thanks,” you murmur, too blissed out to care that he’s ruining a perfectly good suit. 
He shrugs out of the other garments then collapses on the bed next to you. Tangling your fingers together, you smile lazily at one another. Distantly, the music of the party reaches you, but you’re in no rush. 
“So,” you murmur. 
“So,” he echoes. His voice has returned to its normal gruff timbre—still incredibly sexy, but no longer magically enhanced. 
You study his eyes for a moment, also returned to their normal state. With a teasing hum, you nudge him. “What happened to all the other things you mentioned? Marking me, going down on me?” 
He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got...impatient.”
You laugh, a genuine, belly laugh that makes him chuckle, too. 
“Maybe...” You trail off, biting your lip. “Maybe we can get dinner sometime, and then we can try those.” 
Humming, he nuzzles your neck. “I’d love that.”
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Ragu list: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @originalcollectionartistry @imarvelatthestars (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)
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kumori-suwan · 11 months
Text
Time Heals and Love Blooms (Sequel)
Pro! Katsuki Bakugou x Pro! Fem! Reader
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The night had finally arrived, the annual Pro Hero Gala had begun and press and fans littered the streets eager to see the Pros that helped protect their homes. You just arrived, Katsuki happily provided a limo to drop you and Shika off while he took an emergency mission. You used his blazer as a cover for your gorgeous burgundy dress while Shika walked hand in hand with you in his handsome red and black suit and bowtie.
“Khanavora over here! Look this way please! Miss Khanavora who are you wearing tonight? This way please!”, the press was hungry for photos of you, Shika did his best to smile for the cameras but you knew his nervous cues, you smiled and pulled away from the cameras once you’d deemed it enough.
Momo and several of your old classmates had already arrived and greeted you once you walked away from the press. Izuku and Ochako were excited to see you and welcomed you back with open arms.
“Hi there you must be Shika, Kacchan talks about you all the time on patrol.”, Izuku cheered and kneeled down to shake your son’s hand.
Shika smiled nervously but hid behind your legs, Izuku waited until your son was confident enough to shake his hand. With a small pat on his head, Shika stepped towards your old friend and shook his hand, Izuku beamed at your little boy’s fearlessness. That’s when you heard the familiar booms of the explosions you’d come to love, you stared up at the sky and watched as Katsuki landed perfectly on the red carpet. He was still buttoning up his red dress shirt when his piercing crimson eyes met yours, his smile nearly silenced the crowd as he made his way to your side.
“Hey there beautiful, have we met?”, he teased with a playful grin.
You smiled back up at him and shrugged off his blazer, “I don’t think so. You can entertain me until my date gets here though.”
The press went wild watching you both interact, nobody had ever seen Dynamight so relaxed by a woman’s side. He was a whole new person and the sudden father role he’d taken towards Shika made so many more women swoon for him. He lifted Shika up onto his shoulders and wrapped an around around your back, this way everyone saw that you were his and he was yours.
“Mr. Dynamight! A word for our viewers, who is Khanavora to you? Are you two currently seeking a relationship together?!”, one nosy news anchor asked without hesitation.
Katsuki smiled, walking up to the young reporter with Shika on his shoulders and stole her mic to announce you to the world.
“She’s my soulmate, and none of you bastards can have her now that she’s back in my arms!”, Katsuki chuckled darkly, flashing a smug toothy grin at the camera before making his way back to you.
You facepalmed at his announcement and groaned as more reporters rushed at you for answers, just to add the icing to the cake Katsuki let Shika down just so he could lean you back and kiss you straight on the lips on public television. Feeling your cheeks heat up against his when your lips met was a sensation Katsuki would never get tired of.
The rest of the Gala was a huge hit, you we’re reunited with all your old classmates and friends and Shika began making friends with their children in turn. Katsuki couldn’t help but smile seeing you so happy, he imagined that this is how his life would be with you by his side. You’d already stolen his heart after months of stubbornly denying his affection, and now all he could think about was a life with you.
Shika showed off his horns to Mina’s daughter and they ran around giggling and cheering with the other kids.
“Shika be careful honey!”, you yelled, Katsuki made his way to your side and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“Don’t stress to much, this is the most fun he’s had in a while. He’ll be fine.”, Katsuki whispered against your ear.
You sighed and nodded accepting that Katsuki was right, “Yo Dunceface, watch my kid for a bit. If anything happens to him I’m plastering your ass on U.A.’s front gates.”
You gave his arm a playful smack as if to scold him but he simply smiled and took your hand as he pulled you outside for a bit of fresh air. He spun you just once into his arms, his arms finding home at your hips, and yours around his neck.
“You look breathtaking tonight, didn’t know you could be even more gorgeous than you already were.”, Katsuki chuckled against your ear. You smiled back at him, staining his neck in your lipstick color.
He loved the expression on your face, so many emotions showed and yet all Katsuki could focus on was how happy you were. To think that he had missed so many years of this all because of one single mistake he made all those years ago, he was even aware he’d begun to cry until you were brushing away his tears.
“Kats what’s wrong?”, you asked sweetly.
You watched the grown man sniffle like a child, brushing away his own tears before staring at you once more, “I’m sorry, I-I just…fuck…I just love you so fucking much. I miss you so much and I don’t get it, I have you right here but I could’ve had you ages ago if I wasn’t such a fucking idiot.”, Katsuki confessed through choked sobs and a cracking voice. You were shocked by his words, it sounded dumb but you realized Katsuki had regrets about the past but in your opinion those mistakes were worth it all.
“If we had actually worked out…I don’t think we would’ve been as happy as we are now. I know we wasted a lot of time pining after one another once I got back and that I was a total bitch when we did first meet again but…I wouldn’t change anything.”, you watched his eyes glaze over to your words and all he could do was smile.
“If we had gotten together, we wouldn’t have Shika. Those kids that I saved in Africa wouldn’t have ever gotten home, and you…you wouldn’t have gotten as far as you have as a pro. I would’ve held you back…I know I would’ve, but look at everything we’ve both accomplished.”, you smiled, Katsuki couldn’t help but chuckle at your grin.
He leaned down and stole a kiss from your lips once more, relishing the sensation your plump wet lips left against his, he’d never get tired of this.
“I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress.”, he blurted his thoughts out loud and you couldn’t help but laugh at his embarrassment.
His face was flushed red but still you laughed, “Rushing things aren’t we.”, you teased.
Bakugou gently bit down on your cheek in an attempt to silence you but it only made you laugh more. With one final peck to your lips, you both headed back inside to enjoy the festivities but you still had one little surprise left in store.
~~~~~~~~~~
Katsuki couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good night’s sleep. He wasn’t even aware that he was late for work but it was all part of your plan. You knocked on the door alerting the sleepy hero that you’d be coming in and sure enough. You were allowed in by a grumbly Katsuki who was still in bed. A tray of breakfast and a gift rested in your hands and you looked down at Shika with the signal to open the door. You both barged in, seeing Katsuki half asleep, and began to sing.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Katsuki, happy birthday to you!~”, you both cheered watching Katsuki melt to the sight before him.
“What’s all this?”, he yawned, ruffling Shika’s hair and pulling him up onto the bed.
You smiled and set the tray down just next to his lap and pressed a kiss to his lips, “Good morning sleepy man, enjoying your hangover?”, you teased recalling all the drunken shenanigans he’d been involved in last night.
Katsuki rolled his eyes and began eating his breakfast, sharing some pancakes with Shika every few bites.
“Baby what’s the box for?”, Katsuki asked sharing a strawberry with you.
You hummed and took the velvet box off his his tray and got down on one knee before him.
“I thought about what you said last night and well I thought it was time. Katsuki Bakugou, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me.”, you hummed, opening the box to show him the wedding ring you’d gotten him.
You watched Katsuki break down immediately, handing the tray to Shika before tackling you to the floor. His chapped lips scattered kisses all over your face and you couldn’t help but giggle at the warm trail that each kiss left against your skin.
“You suck! How dare you ask first!”, he complained, opening the drawer just next to his side of the bed to grab the box that held your wedding ring in it.
He showed you the ring and you didn’t even let him ask, you simply held out your hand and watched him place the ring on your finger, kissing the diamond as soon as you had it on.
“Happy birthday Mr. Bakugou.”, you teased, smothering his face in kisses.
He chuckled holding your hips gently and kissed your lips, “I love you so fucking much, Mrs.Bakugou.”
“Does this make me a Bakugou too?”
Katsuki couldn’t help but smile at his little boy, he scooped Shika up and hugged him close, “Course it does buddy, you are my son after all.”
Shika beamed, his horns and wagging tail appearing out of glee for what he’d just been told. You were a family now, years of loneliness, after months of pining, you were all finally a family. This had to be the best birthday Katsuki had ever had.
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reginalusus · 7 months
Text
Spamton and Swatch's relationship is minor, but interesting.
I saw a post the other day compiling some of Swatch's more passive aggressive dialogue. I was gonna reblog it with these thoughts but I forgor. Oh well.
Anyway.
I think the relationship between Spamton and Swatch is kind of a fucking punch to the gut. With studs on the knuckles. It seems that, once, they were both on relatively good terms. Swatch has said something along the lines of, "to think he was once a valued customer," and Spamton has said that Swatch was a shoulder to cry on (interpreted from the Sweepstakes' dialogue).
Yes, Swatch was playing the typical 'bartender who listens to your woes' kind of thing, but clearly they didn't mind it. The stuff that Swatch knows about Spamton's darker part of his psyche is probably astronomical and a bit terrifying. I'd love to know what Swatch knows about him. Like, I'm sure we can all guess in certain regards...
In any case, I think this would have led a younger, unstable, frightened, newly-famous Spamton to think of Swatch as a genuine friend.
But what kills me is that fact that Swatch is kind of a cold bastard? Lmao, on one hand you can't really blame them. Swatch is the personification of Delatrune's equivalent of an art tool, of MS Paint or something. They serve Lightners that way, and that's why they're rightfully a bit pissed about Spamton wanting to steal the NEO body and use it. But they're also loyal to Queen and they definitely have a no-nonsense attitude. That's Swatch's job. You can't blame them.
But, to think that Swatch and Spamton had some kind of friendship going on - maybe not friendship, but certainly *something* - and that they dropped him like everyone else as soon as he was no longer benefiting Cyber City's economy, is fucking tragic.
Like, people jab fun at the fact that Swatch resells some of Spamton's old merchandise, but this fucking kills me? The fact that Spamton's 'Big Shot Bowtie' has the brand label cut off in the Colour Cafe's shop section is just sort of harrowing? Because then you realise that the rest of Cyber City is like this. Those cars that litter the streets are probably Spamton's cungadero cars? All Spamton's posters and ads have been cheaply covered up by Queen's posters?
The whole damn city was profiting off Spamton's work and image, and when he's of no use to them anymore, they continue to do that, they just slap a different coat of paint on it. Swatch is no exception to this.
Jesus Christ, could you imagine being in Spamton's position, just watching a whole city that you used to have under your thumb suddenly erase you, but still use your products? Sure, he had help, but still...
And, of course, you can't wholly blame the residents of Cyber City for doing this, because as 'normal' parts of a computer, seeing a corrupted Addison/piece of malware's products suddenly not do what they're supposed to anymore is probably a bit scary.
I obviously have Spamton bias so forgive me, but that shit must be fucking *agonizing* to watch. Like, he just had to sit there and observe from Trash Zone as the city slowly erased him, yet continued to profit off him.
Looping back to Swatch, you could only imagine the interaction they and Spamton must have had when Spamton tried to break into the mansion as a last-ditch attempt to get to the NEO body. Do you think Spamton pleaded with Swatch? Tried to bring up the fact that they used to be close? Do you think Swatch was a bit shocked to see what Spamton had basically become? How vastly different he looked - going from some well-dressed, confident salesman to a glitchy, stuttering mess that was dressed in a disguise to look like the Swatchlings? Maybe.
It's just harrowing to think about, at least to me. Swatch is a more obvious piece in Spamton's lore that details his slow descent into irrelevancy and deeper madness.
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IM GONNA GO ON A RAMBLE ABOUT BARNABY BECAUSE I FUCUCUCIDUUDIDUD ARE UP IR LOVE GIM
OK
So
IM BEING SO FR BARNABY IS THE BEST BBU CHARACTER AND I HAVE VALID REASONING
HE HAS A CASTLE/MANOR LIKE BUDDYS RICH AF FOR THAT HE GOT FUCKING CUSTOM COFFIN WINDOWS AND EVERYTHING HUBBA HUBBA 😍(BIG J I DONT SIMP FOR HIM)
HE GOES BY ALL PRONOUNS LIKE A BADDIE LIKE HES A OARTY PLANNER HE DOESNT HAVE TIME FOR PRONOUNS YOU WOKE BASTARDS
AUTISTIC KING😝😝😝
HIS LAUGH IS MADE OF SILLY LITTLE OWL HOOTS ITS SO CUTE
HE WEARS PINK. AND I MEAN A BEAUTIFUL SHADE OF PINK LIKE LOOK
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ITS SO PRETTY I CANT😭🙏
6. HES PLAYED BY ALASTORS OLD SINGING VOICE AND HAS A SUPER WIDE VOCAL RANGE BECAUSE HES A THESPIAN
7. TRAUMA🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶
8. HIS MOUTH AND EYES ARE INSPIRED BY JACK-O-LANTERNS AND ITS SO COOL
9. HIS SONG IS DTRAIGHT FIRE IM LISTENING TO IT AS I TYPE THIS 🔥🔥
10. No seriously listen to it its called “a million gruesome ways to die” its on Spotify an dyoutube
11. HE’LL KILL YOU FREE OF CHARGE LIKE ZAMN HONEY I CAN STAY IN YOUR CASTLE FOR THE LOW PRICE OF MY MORTALITY AWOOGA 😘😘😘😘
12. HE USED TO BE OBSESSED WITH CHEMISTRY AND SCIENCE AND FANCY CHEESES AND ITS SO CUTE
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FUCK HES SO SILLY OK OK MOVING ON
13. HE HAS THESE LITTLE ASSISTANTS CALLED BARNABOOS AND IM GONNA FUCKING KILL MYSELF BECASUE THAT NAME IS BOMB DIGGITY🤭🤭🤭
14. HE LOOKS LIKE A HARPY EAGLE LOWKEY EVEN THOUGH HES AN OWL SO THATS TWO OF MY FAV BIRDS IN ONE WTFFFFF
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^ fullscreen to see what i mean
15. MY HANDS ARE STARTKNG TO CRAMP DO THISLL BE THE LAST ONE BUT HIS BOWTIE IN-GAME LOOKS LIKE MINNIE MOUSES LOWKEY
OK BYE
EDIT: MY HANDS FEEL BETTER AND I HAVE MORE
16: HE CAN HOLD HIS TRUSTY KNIFE WITH HIS FEET LIKE A GIRLBOSS BECAUSE ITS HARD TO HOLD THINGS WITH HIS WINGS IG
17. HE CAN STRETCH HIS LIMBS AND NECK LIKE ELASTAGIRL OR WHATEVER HER NAME IS
18. I LOVE HALLOWEEN AND HIS ENTIRE THEME IS HALLOWEEN AND THATS SO CUTE IMO
19. THERES A VIDEO ON THE OFFICAL BBU CHANNEL OF HIM BEING A JUDGE AND SCREAMS “SHUT UP!” TO THE JURY OF HIS BARNABOOS AND ITS SO SILLY
20. I LIKE TALL MEN AND BUDDYS PROBABLY OVER 60 FEET TALL
21. HIS VOICE IS SO CUTE
22. HERES A DRAWING OF HIM I MADE TO SHOW HOW BESUTIFUL HE IS (his face is right side up on purpose btw)
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OK THATS ALL FOR NOW, DEUCES‼️
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Tell me why two barnaby rp accounts liked this post
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@an-theduckin i remember you saying you wnated me to tag you in my rambles so here you go
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alex-rambles · 1 year
Note
HII can I request a yandere bill cipher x reader oneshot when its weirdmageddon and the reader is kidnapped and just more of what they're doing in their pyramid. Sorry if it's a little confusing I tried to word it as best as I could 😅
YES. I GOT DRAGGED BACK INTO MY BILL SIMP PHASE.
He's pissed, you can tell.
The question is, what about? Did you do something? No, that's impossible, you've been stuck in one room for... how long, now? A few days, at least.
He finally appears in 'your' room, muttering to himself as he floats above 'your' bed.
"Sunspot, help me out. How does one go about breaking someone like Sixer?"
You do your best to ignore him.
"Are you deaf? I asked you a question!"
Bill rolls his eye and pokes you repeatedly. "Answer. Me."
"Shut up," you finally hiss at him. "I'm not an all-knowing demon. Breaking people is your department, not mine!"
"You're lucky I like you."
"Am I? I'd rather be a piece of stone on your throne than where I am!"
"Oh, no, no, no. If I didn't like you, I'd tear you apart, atom by atom. I digress, how does one break that man? He won't respond to torture! And I need that equation, sunspot! Then we can rule the world!"
You scoff. "What if I don't want to rule the world? Did you ever think of that?"
He probably didn't. He's too caught up in his little fantasy world to consider what the object of his obsession even wants.
His answer surprises you. "Of course I did! But you underestimate the way power gets to the head! Sureeee, you aren't interested now, but give it a bit, once you get a taste of real power-"
"For an all-knowing entity, you're a fool."
His eye narrows. He messes with his bowtie, clearly doing his best to restrain himself. "Is that so?"
"Absolutely! You're a selfish prick! You claim to love me, but you obviously don't even know how to treat the one you love! You're stuck in your stupid power fantasy! Get over yourself!"
Bill actually appears... hurt. That's new. You've thrown many, many insults at him, but he always laughed it off.
"Can you cut it out? I'm trying, you know that? I've done everything to make you comfortable! Keep your fragile human body functioning! Make you happy!"
"No! You're not! You're isolating me! I'm the opposite of happy! You're trying to force me into what I don't want!"
You scowl at him. "I hate you! I hope that Ford kills you! I hope that you have to watch everything you worked for get ripped away!"
For the first time, his voice turns quiet.
"Well, sunspot... Didn't know ya felt that way. I'm trying to make you happy. I promise, you'll learn to like it."
"I will kill myself before that," you spit.
With that, he crumbles.
"Nononono, you can't do that! I will not allow that! If you die, what will I have?"
"What, is world domination not enough? You're not just selfish, you're a greedy fuck."
You haven't really let your emotions run loose yet. But in this moment, something inside you just snapped. Whether it was the isolation, or just Bill being Bill, you don't know.
All you know is that Bill is upset, and it brings you some twisted form of joy.
"All humans die, Bill! I'd die eventually even if I don't off myself purposely!"
Well clearly, that's something he didn't want to even consider.
"NO! You won't die...! I won't let that happen...!"
You sneer and place your finger on his middle area. "Oh, I very much will. And I'll be the happiest person alive. Free from you and your madness."
Bill regains his composure. "You won't. I will absolutely never let you die. I like you too much to let you die. You're the only fleshbag I can genuinely say I like, and I refuse to lose that."
"Selfish bastard."
"Stop calling me names, you hear me? I hate that!"
"Oh my god! I hate being stuck with you, but I evidently can't do jack shit about it...! Sometimes, we just have to roll with what happens!"
Bill merely clasps his hands behind his back. "Clearly we both need space," he says calmly, as if his previous freakout didn't happen. "I'll give you a day, then we'll talk."
You collapse onto 'your' bed as he warps out of the room.
Absolutely unbearable.
P2
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