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soundspeachytome · 5 months

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7 minutes in heaven - shohei ohtani au

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.

==================================

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.

#shohei ohtani au #shohei ohtani imagines #shohei ohtani #shohei ohtani pov #shohei ohtani fluff #shohei ohtani smut

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brucewaynehater101 · 25 days

Note

In my evil era. I've come to spread the misery

So I read a wingfic a while ago and I recall there being a titans tower scene where Tim tried to fly away but Jason grabbed him by the wing and his wing got fucked but don't quote me on that

So here's my idea

=======

Author decision on if anybody other than Tim has wings or other bird features and instincts, but Tim has bird traits like wings, talons, bird noises and maybe a tail if you pick

And for whatever reason, Tim hides his bird features

Who cares if binding his wings and other means of hiding it has proven time and time again to have horrific effects on one's health in studies older than him?

It's annoying how during the night—typically when he's Robin—he needs to take off the bindings and whatnot to keep himself from deteriorating too fast but it is what it is

Besides, his cape covers it up and he's trained in passing for human

It isn't until his wings are used against him in battle—like say a goon or a rogue (maybe even Jason at Titans Tower) being lucky enough to grab them and beat him black and blue due to it—does he reconsider how he views his wings

Tim Drake became Robin with a mission. A mission to restore Batman to the symbol of Justice he was withering from, one that expanded to putting everything into supporting all heroes

But more importantly his generation of Teen Titans and the Bats

His wings were just used against him, and in such a serious way that he's lucky he could nurse himself back to health

It was one time too many

He has a mission

The deadline is Death

=======

The next morning, Luthor Corp down hundreds of millions and they'll never notice until months later. Too late to recover the assets

=======

"Mind letting me in on what it is I'm guarding or even assisting you for?"

"We covered this in the contract Deathstroke; You guard this safehouse and in the future me while I take care of a very time-sensitive case. Benifits are just as negotiated.

"I will be locking myself in the room I will do my work. You are under no circumstances to enter unless told to. Rest assure, it can fufill my physical needs.

"If I open the door and I say 'Asylum,' it means I will be out of the safehouse for a time where you are to protect my room in addition to the rest of the safehouse until I return.

"If I open the door and say 'visitors' or shout it through the walls, it means we're being invaded through my room, and you have all the permission you need to kick down the door to come and assist me.

"If I open the door and say 'mission half-finished,' do so through the walls, or by passing a paper with that text, it means I've finished my mission with no loose ends, but am injured and require your assistance in my recovery.

"And if anybody ever asks; you had to take care of personal matters during your haitus, the Bats will never even come to mind when inquired on this period you're off the grid"

=======

Weeks or Months later (authors pick)

A paper slowly shifts under the door, he picks it up

Mission Half-Finished

he forced the door open to his client shivering on the floor

=======

the timeline is as goes;

Tim tells the bats he's going to be off the grid for a few months for a mission

Tim hacks LexCorp for Lex's future paychecks and assets to-be used for villanous plots

Tim contacts Deathstroke to be a glorified bodyguard + maybe physical therapist/doctor for an indefinite time

25% upfront pay. Deathstroke will only recieve the remaining pay if he fufills his duties as followed and doesn't bail or rat Tim out

Half the reason Deathstroke is being paid six figures is to stay hush

Tim isolates himself in a room that can fufill his needs for a time

Tim isn't working on a case at all. He is preforming surgery on himself to get rid of his wings, tail, and maybe other bird traits, everything short of instincts (or not, your pick lol)

After Tim is finished, he does end up needing Deathstroke's help recovering from the aftermath, but he does everything to make the mercenery believe that it was a mission that fucked him up

Tim recovers and gives Deathstroke the rest of the 75% pay

Deathstroke leaves the safehouse while Tim stays a bit longer to tie up loose ends

Loose ends tied

LexCorp learns of the stolen money and assets, tries, and fails to find where they went

extra notes

That 'Asylum' code word was meant to throw Deathstroke a false trail to follow if he ever gets curious about what Tim was getting up to during their contract

The 'visitors' was in case the safehouse did get broken into, and 'Mission Half-Finished' in the likely case Tim legit needed treating the aftermath or physical therapy after what he did

SO yeah. This could go a lot of ways

(assume when I say wings, I use it as an umbella term for all his removed bird traits)

In Tim's ideal world, he's either bury his wings where they would rapidly rot into nothing, or keep them in his house or safest, secure, and isolated place where he preserves them and looks at them to remind himself to never let anything, anything bring him down again

But he doesn't live there

Maybe the Bats find out that Tim lost his wings, and later on, that Tim did it to himself, and are promptly horrified but Tim is all like "they were pulling me back, I had to for the mission!"

Cue more horror

Esp if Jason was the one to yank Tim by the wings

Maybe whoever yanked Tim by the wings assumes it's common knowledge that Tim is birdy^2 and is confused when everyone says the Robin is human or at least has no wings

Imagine if it's not even a rogue but a goon who even has photo evidence of the Robin's wings but recent photos, he doesn't have them at all?

And word spreads a Robin literally had his wings torn from him literally and it reaches rogues and even the Bats?

All hell breaks loose

Deathstroke thinks he's safe because he was 'busy with his personal life' until he realizes the Robin they're talking about is the one that hired him and needed his help recovering from something

He is screaming, he didn't wanna be caught up in this!

Or perhaps Deathstroke gets suspicious about the possibility he's been lied to on the contract despite how squeaky clean everything seems, and gives up that 75% to confront Tim

Only to find the kid just starting or in the middle of surgically removing his wings

Or maybe Deathstroke sniffs around after Tim needs his help recovering from his mission and find's the stash of wings he's planning to dispose of or preserve

either way he's going "What the Capital F Fuck is this?"

=======

I think any conversation between people and Tim could be dumbed down to this

"Why did you remove your'e wings??!"

"They were a burden, besides, it's not like I'm becoming disabled am I? I'm just becoming more passing for human then ever"

"That's not how it works!!"

Ooh. Okay. I think, in this AU, most of the Bats don't have wings. The exception would be Duke and Babs (Cass used to as well, but they were taken from her). For Barbara, the bullet that injured her spine also went through one of her wings.

I think Cass, who would bond with Tim using their bird instincts and who's wings were forcibly taken, would be especially devastated.

You're absolutely correct that Tim would do such a fucked up thing, but gods does it hurt.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

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3terna15unshin3 · 5 months

Note

Would you ever consider writing about Matty & Este finding out their pregnant/having a baby?? Would love to read it if you’d be up for writing it!

hiiii thank u for the request, this will just be a rambly run on idea type of blurb!! fun fact - at the beginning of all this i had my heart set on them not having a baby bc este is me and i have never ever wanted kids and honestly don’t even like them very much (lol) … but it’s clearly something important to matty irl so after getting some requests (and also loving like the domestic and fluffy and sensitive ideas that it would bring on) i have reconsidered to satisfy the people🫡🫡🫡

so many authors on here write dad matty very well tho and much better than i ever could, like @yourtouchismidas’s Ruins universe / @toomuchracket's flatmate!matty dad and d word blurbs / @ughgoaway’s teacher au 💌💌💌 and so many more!!!!! i also have a pregnancy scare blurb here if u want to read that too! i hope u enjoy 🌟

tbsg masterlist // more blurbs

it happens after they get married and i think it wouldn’t necessarily be an accident, like este would pose the idea of her going off her contraceptive pill instead of switching to a different one (after her hormones start to have a bit of a hay day) and matty's up for it too. when they find out they’re over the moon. este expects to be scared or full of anxiety but it feels so right that they cry and smile and hold each other all day. it’s such a sacred moment/feeling so they decide to keep the news to themselves for the first couple of months.

everyone in their life gets suspicious that este stops ordering cocktails at dinner and is always weirdly out of breath after doing anything barely physical but nobody is concerned enough to confront them about it. she wears baggy clothes (like matty's slouchiest band tees) while out and her bump starts to grow, but at home she doesn't bother covering up. a typical 'around the house' outfit of hers is a bralette top and her favorite jeans just with the zipper down and button wide open, tummy fully on display while typing away at a review on her laptop or snuggling up to keiko on the sofa. matty likes it, since he thinks she looks sexy and a certain energy seems to be radiating off of her that he can't seem to break his attention from. este's always catching him steal glances at the bump when he thinks she isn't looking. he sets his hand on it every night and rubs his thumb back and forth at a steady rhythm while talking about whether the baby will have his curly hair or her tan skin or his musical talent or her passion for literature. all of the above, hopefully.

she’s incredibly run down at the start so she spends lots of time in bed, which she hates. she wants nothing more than to go out to the cafe down the street, that they love, and sip on a matcha while he downs a cappuccino, and they share a warm pastry; but the baby makes her unable bear the taste of green tea and the noise of the espresso machine would probably start to drive her crazy. her attention span is suddenly split in half and she gets migraines ferquently so she's trudging behind on the list of books she needs to read.

it's tough, but matty's there to help. he appreciates that she's in bed so often because she has a habit of working herself too hard anyway. because his recent album cycle is over with, he can care for her and brush her hair and learn the order of her skincare routine so he can apply it for her when she’s too tired to do it herself. sometimes matty can tell the sickness is extra bad and that este's just downplaying her pain for the sake of not bothering him so he scolds her and treats her like a princess until she can't help but smile in pure adoration. people begin to notice that she isn’t spotted much in public at all and maybe even breakup rumors swirl around the internet.

the months they spend with their little secret are so precious, but they begin telling family when the baby grows to big to hide. it’s the best news of the year. everyone close to them finding out makes it feel so real. they receive little baby grows as gifts from cate and georgia, este’s dad helps them fix up a nursery in the spare room, and denise begins buying them diapers way too early. matty and este once discuss how lucky they are that their little one will be surrounded by such a village of love and they deliriously sob together at the thought of it.

i think they’d announce it to the public by posting a cute candid taken by charli or george. it’s from the rare time este feels well enough to go out on a little doggy play date/walk through the park so the four of them do that. the pic shows matty and este sitting cross-legged on the grass with keiko in matty’s lap, her tongue sticking out (like it always does when she’s excited). este’s bump pokes out of the bottom of her jumper and they’re both mid-laugh and looking at each other with squinty eyes. the caption is something cute and casual like ‘healy x 4’ or ‘spot the newest healy’ and fans go absolutely insane. there are plenty of news outlets that use their pregnancy as headlines too but neither of them read any of the many articles written because they couldn’t care less of what journalists had to say.

in my heart matty is a girldad, so when it’s time to find out the sex, the doctor shares it with them right away. the two of them think gender reveals are stupid so they don’t have one. they begin building a little personality for her, like when este would eat something that she usually loves but now makes her sick, matty jokes and says "of course she isn’t a mushroom type of girl. i could’ve guessed that from a mile away," and este rolls her eyes. he’d call out phrases like "my girls! i’m home!" when coming back through the front door after a trip to the shops and este would pull the "you’re really outnumbered now, you know… 3-1…" card whenever they disagree about something.

they also accumulate tons of storybooks that they like to take turns reading to the bump before bed every night. because they're so pretentious they go for classics like the velveteen rabbit and corduroy and anything by shel silverstein. matty always chooses the longest ones so that he can spend as much time as possible talking to her. he brings his lips all close to make sure the baby can hear him and sometimes does silly voices. when they make este giggle, her tummy vibrates with laughter and sometimes they’ll feel her kick or shift and it’s something they look forward to every day.

throughout the whole pregnancy, every couple of weeks, matty would snap a picture of the two of them (or three, i guess) standing in the full length mirror in their bedroom. they both stand profile to show off este’s growing belly, her in front, matty’s chest pressed against her back. they hold hands and she rests her empty one on her stomach, while he uses his to take the photo with a fancy point and shoot camera. the roll of film he shoots on is full of pictures and he only takes it to get developed after the final one is taken. the last of the roll shows este, now a couple weeks postpartum, with matty still holding her from behind, but this time she cradles baby dorothy in her arms instead of her pregnant belly.

it becomes their favourite picture ever taken, so even though they’d agree to keep her identity private and barely share anything the first few months, matty and este excitedly post it on social media to at least share that she was born and what her name is. it’s a carousel with the newest picture as the cover and as you swipe you can see a couple of the previous mirror pics where her bump gets bigger and bigger over time. his caption would either be cute like ‘our baby dodes was born on the 25th of jan x’ or ‘my favourite girls in the world (este.manansala and our little dorothy)’ or something really stupid like ‘became a friend to dorothy on the 25th of january (is this a coming out post or is my daughter is named dorothy ?? guess x)’ … get it??? bc ‘friend of dorothy’ means gay man lmfao i feel like matty would be annoying like that.

dorothy florence manansala healy is her full name. it’s a mouthful but they’d love that about it and it’s also a filipino tradition to make the mother’s maiden name a second middle name for the child, so that’s where that comes from. they went through hoards of them before settling on one combination. dorothy florence comes from a hodge podge of meanings like the D initial for denise, matty's early memories of the wizard of oz, their beloved florencia, and just the fact that they found them both on baby name lists and thought they were the prettiest. they call her dodie and dodes and dodiebaby and dot and dotty and doddle and even flossie sometimes (they hope that once she’s a bit older she can pick the nickname she likes the best, so they can just call her that, instead of having to choose between them all).

and frankly, they’re completely obsessed with her. she has big brown eyes and a full head of hair and chubby rosy cheeks. matty loves that she has este’s nose and long lashes and este loves that she has his curls and pointy chin. her eyes light up whenever her mum or dad is in her view and she learns to smile whenever they call her name (or any different iteration of it). 'song for our daughter' by laura marling comes on shuffle once in a while and it makes them weep now that they have one.

being new parents takes them on a million rollercoasters of emotions all at once but they make it through the tough times together. of course their families and the guys help out a bunch, especially hann and carly who then get baby fever and maybe consider having another to give baby hann a sibling and dodie another cousin. i think matty and este would be really great though, gentle most of the time but firm when needed and they work really well as a team. matty def would not be one of those dads who slacks off or thinks it’s babysitting to watch his own kid (ofc, bc ew), like he’d be so helpful and loving and thoughtful about caring for este and any struggles she may have postpartum just as much as caring for the baby.

they try to split things as evenly as possible and all the love flows so freely and carelessly between the three of them, although i do imagine when dot is a toddler that she’s a bit of a daddy’s girl lol. maybe that’s just me being up matty’s ass but i could just imagine her always wrapping her arms around his leg when they stand together or being really excited to go pick out a birthday gift for him with este or being mesmerized by his singing voice and stuff like that.

baby dorothy quickly becomes their best friend. she’s everything they could’ve ever dreamed of.

anyway that’s all i could muster up for now, if you’re wanting more baby manansala-healy blurbs, i’d be open to write them, but i don’t really have anything specific in mind so i probably only will if i get some ideas in my ask box :)))) feel free to send some if you have any!!!

ok bye love u

#tbsg #meste blurb #matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x oc #matty healy fic #matty healy blurb #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fluff #fanfiction #fluff

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

Text

Queen of Heaven

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky x Sex Club Owner! Reader

Word Count: 4K +

A/N: This comes directly after Carnivores, Vegans, and Boy Scouts, Oh My! This is in the This Thing Of Ours AU

Warnings: As usual 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. Not Beta’d, all errors my own. Woman centered Sex club, graphic depictions of sex acts, ex-free-use Sharon Carter, voyeurism, fantasies, kinks, fetishes, choking, breath play, masturbation, bi-sexual proposition, dp, sex with multiples, Switch reader, definite dom/sub play, oral sex (m/f recieving) use of pain as pleasure, Switch Bucky, restraints, slapping, spitting, explicit talk of topping Bucky, orgasm denial, cum play, use of ‘Puppy’ pet name. Basically reader turns Bucky out, lol. This is PWP.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Two weeks after his first meeting with you, Bucky and Sharon Carter rolled up to a Tribeca hotel in a black SUV. His driver, Robbie, was also protection for his date tonight.

Robbie parked and Bucky stepped out, then went around and opened the other door for the blonde, who stepped out to reveal a black mini dress and steep black red bottoms. Bucky could tell that she wasn’t wearing anything else, and although it was intended to be alluring, it had no effect on Bucky.

But he played the game, smiling at her smirk as they headed into the lobby.

“This is way outside of your wheelhouse, isn’t it Bucky? Are you sure you are not trying to give it a go again?”

Sharon turned toward Bucky and looked up at him.

Bucky stepped back and cleared his throat, establishing a boundary.

“Sharon, we talked about ground rules before we came. No. We are not giving “it” a go again. If that is a problem for you, we don’t need to go in here. Robbie can take you home. I’ll find another way to get in.”

Bucky’s face was serious, and Sharon’s smile dropped.

Sam, Steve, and Bucky each had a go at Sharon, and it just wasn’t destined to be along term thing. But that didn’t stop her from trying to get with one, or all of them, again.

“Robbie is my boy, he’s rescued me from more than one of your Valkyrie get togethers gone wrong in the past.”

Sharon looked wistful. Bucky almost felt bad. Almost. He knew how manipulative Sharon was.

“Listen Shar. You said you wanted to be friends. We are not a thing anymore. I know you love attention. Here is your chance. If we go in here, you can have some fun, and I can get what I need for Valkyrie. There is not going to be anything happening between me and you in here. Got it?”

Sharon batted her eyes.

“You don’t even want to watch? Sam loved it when we came.”

Bucky paused at that bit of information, but just decided to ignore it.

“Nope. You’re free as a bird.”

Sharon cleared her throat and smoothed her dress.

“Good. You won’t cramp my style then.”

“Right.”

Bucky took Sharon’s arm and steered her to the right, into the closed-for-the-private-function restaurant.

There was a tall man, dressed all in black, who was making sure of the identities of all who entered. After checking Bucky and Sharon in, he waved a long arm around the corner into the restaurant, where people, all dressed in black, are mingling, enjoying cocktails, and talking amongst themselves.

Sharon ordered a prosecco and walked over to a table while Bucky ordered bourbon. She picked up a card.

“This is the ice-breaker mixer portion of the evening. I’m off to find someone with a different eye color than I came with.”

She looked up at Bucky and into his blue eyes.

“See you later, Alligator.”

She smiled and glided away to a beautiful young lady with long dark hair and alabaster skin.

Bucky reconsidered what Sharon said about watching as a short redhead sidled up to him. He put on a tight smile and answered the question that she read from the card.

“Ummmm. Reverse cowgirl,” he said absentmindedly, trying to be polite while scanning the place for you.

After about 45 minutes of awkward mingling on Bucky’s part, the host called everyone’s attention and gave some ground rules detailing what was to be allowed in the clubhouse, which was not far away. The number one rule was that only women could extend invitations for sex acts. Men were free to accept or decline, or offer to watch, but nothing else.

Sharon drifted back over to Bucky. When the information was disseminated, the host, who said his name was Utu, led everyone to the club which was just down the block. Bucky and Sharon walked in silence, each contemplating the possibilities.

Inside the club was dark and drenched in red lights. There was one angel, you, dressed in all-white.

Bucky’s took you in. Your hair, which was pulled back the first time he saw you, was now a huge halo around your head, and your white leather corset was covered in buckles and bows. The garment seemed to be pulled tight to gather the soft looking globes of your breasts up nearer your face, which glowed with a light he didn’t see before.

Those eyes of yours were glowing, and those lips. How he wanted to experience them. His eyes moved lower to the bodice of your dress, which was cut so low cut that Bucky could swear that he could see a hint of your areolas. That fact made him shift his stance and attempt to will down a sudden change in how his pants fit.

Bucky licked his lips as his eyes flowed down your body. Your dress fit your waist and then flared into a short train in the back, while the front hem curved upward and showed your generous thighs made more prominent and muscular by your high platform open toed shoes. Bucky stared at your white painted toenails and discovered at that moment that he had a toe fetish.

“Welcome to Queen of Heaven, Ladies, and guests.”

Everyone was mesmerized by you. Your eyes scanned the crowd and faces, hesitated when you saw Bucky, but then continued with what you were saying.

“I am Inanna.”

Your eyes came back to Bucky, your eyes meeting when you gave that name, knowing that he knew it wasn’t the truth.

“I hope that tonight you begin to understand, and give way to your desires, whether with others, or on an individual journey to your true self.”

You locked eyes with Bucky and an electricity zapped between you again. Sharon’s head was on a swivel, watching this thing play out with you two. She cleared her throat, and that snapped you out of it. You smiled, and stepped aside for everyone to enter.

“Enjoy!”

Utu stood between you and the guests as they filed past, prohibiting anyone from coming near you. Bucky wanted to stop, but the eagerness of those around him compelled him into the club.

By the time Utu brought up the rear, you were nowhere in sight.

“Do you know her?”

“What?”

Bucky’s brain was scrambled; he’d forgotten his mission and could only think to explore his desires with you. Honestly, he’d forgotten that Sharon was there.

“Inanna?”

Bucky looked down at Sharon without registering her features.

“I don’t know anyone named Inanna.”

Bucky’s face gave away nothing, but Sharon was a smart woman.

“Right.”

Bucky could tell that she didn’t believe him.

“I’m going to go explore.”

Bucky gave her his practiced smile.

“Have fun.”

“Oh. I will.”

Sharon winked at Bucky and then disappeared.

30 minutes later, after low-key searching for you throughout the club to no avail, Bucky had gotten an eyeful of women who were seeking out their pleasures, be it by just watching, pleasuring themselves, light to heavy petting, and various sex acts with one or more partners of all genders and sexes.

Every time Bucky came upon a man restrained in any way, his heart beat staccato.

He thought of your suggestion to explore his desires. Normally, Bucky was the initiator in sex. It came with the territory because of his chosen livelihood. As a mobster, it was expected that Bucky would just take what he wanted.

But what if he just wanted to be taken? The moment that thought registered, Bucky’s world was rocked.

Bucky stopped to watch a woman ride a man, her hand around his throat, while another woman watched. The two women kissed as the man panted for air and smiled wide, blushing and flushed with pleasure.

“Would you like to join us?”

Bucky looked down at the small brunette beside him, the same one that Sharon spoke to at the restaurant, and at the huge dirty blonde male who was with her. She was nestled in the crook of his arm as his hands roamed her body.

“We would like someone who wants to experience both of us. And us them. Are you interested?”

Bucky looked from the man to the woman.

“I’m flattered, but I am still exploring. Individually at the moment.”

The brunette tsked as she eyed Bucky.

“A shame. Maybe next time.”

Bucky hadn’t considered that there would be a next time. He was just here to confront you and to use the information for leverage to get you to sign the contract, but now…

A passing waiter stopped and Bucky reached for a drink.

“Do you need anything, Sir?”

“Inanna. What does she do at the club? Does she participate? Where is she?”

The young male looked at ease in the black leather straps that comprised his uniform. His codpiece was large and Bucky wondered if he were on the menu for the female members as well. He wondered if you had broken him in. He wondered if the waiter gave you pleasure. He wondered what your kink was….

Bucky’s mind started to spiral as the waiter answered with a velvet voice that Bucky found oddly appealing. He wondered if there were anything in his drink or if it was the club.

“Inanna is everywhere. I’ve never seen her participate, or been invited to her space, but there are stories. She mostly just watches.”

He indicated upwards and Bucky looked up to see cut out rectangles near the warehouse high black ceilings. He saw a flash of white and immediately understood.

You were up there. Watching everything.

When he looked back down, the waiter had disappeared.

Bucky took a drink and scanned the clubhouse. His eyes paused momentarily at the image of Sharon on a huge red bed engaged in double penetration with two muscle-bound males, one blonde, one brunette, while she sucked off another brown skinned adonis.

“Hmph? Who would have thought?” Bucky said below his breath as he headed back toward the entrance.

He explored the welcome area more closely, and found a panel in the wall. He looked around to ensure that no one was watching, and opened it to find a flight of stairs, black but illuminated from below by red lights. He gulped as he looked up the staircase.

Your heart was beating wildly. Bucky was finally making his way up to you, and the anticipation had you wet. You would have thought that he would have figured it out before now, but you underestimated his curiosity.

The way Bucky paused to watch people doing everything you wanted to do with him made you thrill. But he was taking too long, and you didn’t want to touch yourself tonight. You wanted him.

So you sent Paolo over with drinks to give him a nudge.

Ever since the encounter in your office, you felt things you hadn’t in years, if ever.

Your mind would not stop creating made up scenarios of playtime with James Bucky Barnes. There was something about him that made you want to let down your walls.

The moment Bucky saw you upstairs, he knew it was over for him. Your scent enveloped him and pulled him closer to you. He took in your form, and all of his bodily systems ramped up.

You’d removed the train to your dress, which showcased your legs and as he stared at them, he decided he wanted to experience them close-up.

You watched James Barnes enter your space and stand there, sex on legs in a black and leather suit. His eyes roamed your body with possession and you watched him greet you, not with words, but with a full body expression of lust. You noticed his tongue absentmindedly poking around in his cheek; you decided that he must be thinking hard.

You decided to forgo the formalities.

“Why are you here, Mr. Barnes?”

His eyes finally met yours.

“Call me Bucky.”

You scoffed.

“I most certainly will not. What the hell is a Bucky?”

Bucky chuckled, then came closer to you, taking note of your reactions. Your eyes told a story your demeanor did not.

“I am here to ask you to sign the contract again. This little enterprise of yours would be very interesting information for some people. I’ll keep your secret, and offer the club protection, if you join our organization.”

Bucky circled you as if you were prey, and he couldn’t know how much that turned you on. You craved the primal, pure emotion of desire. He was taking you there.

“The terms of your contract are untenable. I am not a fool, Mr. Barnes.”

“Everything is negotiable. Inanna?”

He questioned your alias as he stared at your ass, which was a delicacy that he had to taste. You turned your head as he lingered behind you.

“See something you like, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky circled back around to face you and licked his lips, that tongue snaking out and almost destroying your soul.

“As a matter of fact… I do.”

You moved forward, as if into his arms, but just as he was about to raise them, you brushed past him and seemingly floated to a bar in the corner of the room.

“Take off your jacket, Mr. Barnes, and we’ll talk.”

You indicated a yellow couch. Bucky looked at his phone and saw a text that Robbie was taking Sharon home, and Bucky was pleased at that. He took off his jacket and sat down, eyes scanning the room to view the toys displayed on the walls.

You brought him his drink and sat down beside him.

“What do you know about sex play? Kinks? Fetishes? BDSM?”

Bucky took another drink.

“I know the basics. What all those are. Safe words. But I’ve never really…not seriously…beyond the occasional girl with a Daddy kink… Never really used a lot of toys. Well. Not like these. My sex life has been pretty straightforward.”

Bucky indicated your room and you looked around. And then back at him.

“My sex life is pretty straight forward, Mr. Barnes. I either relinquish control, or I gain it from my partner. I am a Switch. Which means that I can be dominant.”

You stared at him and he flashed back to the meeting in your office.

“Or submissive. Sometimes it depends on the day, the mood I’m in. Or sometimes I can be both within a matter of minutes.”

Bucky started breathing hard. He felt intoxicated, but he could usually hold his liquor and this was only his third drink.

Must have been you.

Bucky stood up, if only to maintain control.

You noticed the bulge in his pants and smiled into your drink. You watched as he examined the toys that were on your walls, and the equipment built in taking the opportunity to roam away from you. He stopped at the restraints. He sipped his drink and looked up to see how it was connected to a track in the ceiling. You observed his curiosity. You could read him like a book.

“These look like they can move anywhere you want them in the room.”

His voice was plaintive, soft, and wistful.

“They can. They come in very handy in some scenes. Do you want to see how they work? Do you want to play with me?”

You put your drink down, walked over to the wall and raised your arms very slowly and deliberately. The invitation was unmistakable. Bucky almost fell to his knees, but instead took another drink and moved closer to you. He looked in your eyes and then up at the restraints, leaning close to pull one down. The crank of gears was a satisfying sensation that helped set the mood as he lengthened the chain to which they were attached.

Bucky opened the latch and enclosed your wrist in his large hand, caressing you with his thumb. This tenderness was unexpected and you normally wouldn’t have allowed it, but James Barnes was proving to be your weakness.

He looked into your eyes again and then fastened your arm into place. The way you sighed and settled into being restrained made his cock even harder. He fastned the other wrist and witnessed a distinct change in your demeanor. You were definitely more relaxed. You looked up at him and he was under your spell.

Those eyes had a hold on him.

“Thank you, Sir. My words are simple: green for good, yellow for caution, nearing my limit, and red for stop immediately.”

You looked up at him. And Bucky understood that he was responsible for you now.

“Good girl.”

You trembled and bit your lip.

“Would you like for me to show you the range of the restraints?”

“Yes.”

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, Bucky walked backwards, not wanting to take his eyes off you. You walked around the perimeter of the room and Bucky stopped to watch you, observing your legs, your ass and your breasts which were slipping out of the leather bodice.

Bucky stood in the center of the room. He pointed to a spot in front of him.

“Come here.”

You did as he asked and stood, waiting for a command.

Bucky reached for your bodice and pulled the cups down, letting your breasts fully spill out.

“Be still.”

Your body thrilled as Bucky lowered his mouth and licked each of your nipples, making them pebble against the air of the room. Then, he straightened and watched your face as he twisted your nipples with increasing intensity.

“What is your word?”

“Green, Sir. I’m used to clamps.”

Bucky slapped your breasts and pulled on your nipples, making you bite your lip and fluids leak down your thighs.

“I didn’t ask for all that information.”

You cast your eyes down, pleased at how this was going. Bucky jerked your chin up, then kissed you, mouth bruising your lips. Then he pulled back and his hand traveled down to your waist and around, squeezing your ass, and then back round to finger your folds through the leather. His fingers found snaps.

“Eyes on me.”

Bucky slid down to his knees and carefully freed your lower body from the leather. Bucky looked up at you as he placed one thigh on his shoulder. Then he gazed at your most intimate physical part.

“I’ve wondered how you would look, feel, and taste down here.”

You bit your lip, but did not respond as his fingers reached up to feel your wet folds, and to dip into your heat. His eyes dropped with the pleasure of anticipation, then he looked straight at you.

“You are going to give me an orgasm, when I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes Sir.”

You whispered it. You’d never been this overwhelmed.

Bucky pinched your clit.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Ah! Yes, Sir!”

You screamed it into the room and creamed on his fingers. He was fucking you with them now, and the only thing holding you up was Bucky’s strong hand.

Irrationally, you dreamed of running your hands through Bucky’s hair as his face moved into your creamy center. But you were restrained. And it was for your good.

It would not do to fall for James Barnes.

Bucky maintained eye contact as he began eating you out. You tasted like pomegranates and the feel of your velvet innermost parts on his tongue was sublime. He could only imagine how you would feel wrapped around him. He wanted to take his cock out right then for some relief, but he decided to focus on you.

You watched, heard, and felt him lick, slurp and suckle your labia, cunt, and clit, and you gave him what he wanted quckly. And all over him.

Bucky stood up, taking off his drenched shirt, eyes on fire.

“Good girl.”

He reached for you and kissed you again, giving you a taste of you. He unbuckled his belt and you trembled, but he didn’t do what you were expecting.

“My turn.”

He was leading you back to the wall.

“Can you let me experience the other side, Inanna?”

You didn’t imagine that he would assent so quickly.

“Oh, Yes, Sir.”

You smiled at him as he unfastened you. You stepped away from the wall and flexed your wrists, testing your flexibility. Bucky reached for your hands to soothe them and you shoved him against the wall, much like you did at your first meeting. Your forearm was against his throat, but your breasts were pressed against his chest.

“Did I give you permission to touch me?”

Bucky grinned.

“No, Inanna.”

“Then don’t. Unless I order you to.”

“Yes, Inanna.”

“What are your words.”

“Same as yours, Inanna, Red, Yellow, Green.”

He was inordinately happy.

You slapped Bucky’s face, and you saw that tongue poking the cheek you’d just reddened.

“Wipe that fucking smile off your face.”

Bucky just stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

You pressed your forearm harder, and watched as Bucky gasped for breath. You released him and you could tell he was suppressing a smile.

“Hands up, Mr. Barnes.”

You stayed where you were, your breasts brushing against his chest and driving him crazy as you fastened him in. He craved you already and even though you were right there. Even though he was fastened to the wall, Bucky felt free.

This was the best feeling ever.

You pulled Bucky’s zipper down and reached into his pants, finding more than suitable. You looked down and smile.

“Oh, Mr. Barnes. Looks like you’ve made a mess of yourself. Am I always going to have to clean you up?” Bucky stopped himself from nodding vehemently at the promise of more.

You dropped his pants around his ankles, hemming him up not only by his arms, but by his ankles as well.

You kneeled down and rubbed him from tip to balls, and extended your fingers behind, ghosting over his hole.

“Hmmmm. About nine inches. And thick too.”

You looked up at Bucky, almost giving him a heart attack.

“I am pleased.”

You licked him all over, collecting all of the fluid on his cock, then you deep throat him, causing a low rumbling moan in his throat. You proceeded to give him the filthiest pep talk he ever had between your slurps and gags. Your fingers teased him to the point of delirium. He’d never felt like this before.

“Why do I want fuck you with my strap, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky pulsed in your hands involuntarily at that. It was unexpected. You stood up and pulled his mouth open, spitting on his tongue.

“Swallow.”

He did as he was told and pulsed for you again, mouth falling open for you to kiss him.

“You like that idea, hunh? Getting as good as you give?”

You began to tug on his cock, stroking him for dear life as he whimpered under your control.

“Don’t worry. We’ll start with 6 inches. I’d bet you’d cum all over the place.”

Bucky buried his head in your shoulder as you jacked him mercilessly, afraid of his feelings about the situation.

“I’d go easy on you. At first. We could start with a plug. I’d have you, ass up on my bed, legs wide, while I lick that special hole of yours, and then push it in slowly. Then, I’d turn you over and then ride your cock into the sunset.”

You were stroking his cock and grasping his neck, feeling his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“D’you think you could you fuck me well enough? Do you have it in you to put it in me? Do you want to be my Puppy?”

This time, Bucky nodded.

You slapped him again.

“Can I use your cock for my pleasure? Any time I want?”

Bucky’s pupils were blown, and his mouth was open and gasping for breath.

HIs tongue came out and moistened his lips, his eyes on the point where your hard nipples were pressing into his chest as you stroked him.

“I’m going to fit you to my throat again. And you better not cum.”

Those words almost made Bucky cum on the spot and when he saw you on your knees, he wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge.

You worked and kneaded his balls firmly, careful not to hurt him, but just on the edge of pain. It was so much pleasure.

“Mmmmmm. A cock ring. That is what you need to control yourself. Right Puppy?” Bucky would have agreed to anything at this moment.

You stroked him over your breasts, his tip rubbing your nipples and then you licked him from root to tip, plunging your mouth around him as you deep throated him again. Your tongue and throat were magic, Bucky went to stroke your hair, but his hands were restrained and he almost lost it.

The feeling was indescribable. He whined.

“Love to hear your cute little sounds, Puppy. So adorable.”

You spit on his cock and took him in your mouth again, pulling suction on his member and pushing him down your throat to make him dangerously close. Then you stopped.

Bucky’s whines and sounds were getting to you. You needed to get off again.

You peeled off your garment and lay down in front of him.

“I’m going to get off Puppy. You watch and you better not cum. Pay attention.”

Your eyes watched his jumping cock as Bucky’s eyes were plastered to your hands, which pulled at your nipples and circled your clit in tight, insistent, fast circles. You saw his balls draw up and his cock jack higher.

“Careful, Puppy. You don’t want to cum all over me right now. Don’t do it.”

You started inserting your fingers and all of a sudden your back arched and you squeezed your breast and your orgasm began. Unfortunately, so did Bucky’s.

“Fuuuuccckkkkk!”

Bucky roared. He had never come so hard before, untouched, and all over everywhere.

“Oh no… Puppy. You didn’t….”

You sounded disappointed as you played in his cum and Bucky pumped more spend on you.

You got up and walked into the adjacent room to take a 5 minute shower to clean up while leaving Bucky restrained.

While apart, both of you contemplated what just happened. You thought of ways to pump the brakes and Bucky was scheming on how to make you his. Both of you knew you were doomed.

You came out in a white robe and your hair tied up. You looked more beautiful than ever, and relaxed.

You smiled at him as you released him from the restraints and handed him a warm towel.

“Clean up. You are welcome to use my shower. Unfortunately, because you did not follow my instructions, you will need to leave. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Before Bucky could respond, you were gone through another door, leaving Bucky to quickly shower and dress, and make his way down the stairs.

He found himself out on the street, hearing the door latch behind him. He wanted to turn back around and pound on the door for you, but he just texted Robbie.

Halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge, a message appeared on his phone from an unknown number.

Let’s do business, I have some contingencies, but I’ll sign the contract. Call me tomorrow to set up a meeting. – Inanna

Bucky saved the number and smiled.

Sharon texted a moment later.

“Well? Did you get what you wanted, Bucky?”

Bucky ignored the text and asked himself, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

#this thing of ours au #mob boss! bucky barnes x reader #mob boss!steve #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss! Steve Rogers #mob boss bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob boss! Sam Wilson #sharon carter #mob boss! avengers #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x black female reader #mob boss Bucky x black reader

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ryuichirou · 15 days

Text

Replies

A bunch of replies todayyy! Sorry for the wait!

Anonymous asked:

Wha…what is with all the gaslighting discourse?

A waste of our precious time, Anon.

It started with some Anon being frustrated with me talking about Jade being a gaslighter in a hc post about twst boys being horrible to their lovers, and then them calling Rook a gaslighter instead. I was confused about this ask and replied half-jokingly, but the Anon came back trying to explain themselves once more. So I wrote another reply where I stated my position loudly and clearly: I do not agree with that Anon, I will continue drawing and writing Rook and Jade as I please, and I do not like how the Anon approached this topic by basically telling me that because it upsets them personally, I should reconsider how I view the characters. I find this type of rhetoric manipulative and unfair not only to us, but to the rest of people here: I can’t prioritise one person’s trauma over others’. I also really don’t like it when someone tries to assess my personal views on things by the type of fiction that I like and the way I see and portray certain characters. This is literally why we shoo away everyone who acts disgusted because of some of our ships, and this situation is no different to me. “I really don’t like it = this is dangerous” is manipulative, no matter how you cut it.

Anyways, then there was that Anon to whom I replied yesterday! And it was a nice ask, I had fun thinking about what to write. They actually sent their ask a month ago, just as this whole thing was happening, but I took my time because I was busy, but wanted to reply properly. Just like I said before, I love talking about characters a lot, and even if I disagree with someone, as long as they aren’t trying to force their point of view on me or imply that I don’t get it or I am stupid, I like hearing different interpretations of characters. Even if it feels completely off to how I view it, I can appreciate or at least respect it if they respect the way I do things. And don’t imply that I don’t get it or I am stupid.

So yeah, this is everything I have to say about this lol But you can read more on this topic; I believe there are plenty of other posts on this site, apparently this discussion has been going on for years. I really have no idea what there is to even discuss though.

Anonymous asked:

I know you haven’t talked about twst cast being parents for awhile, but I couldn’t help but come up with an azuide kid scenario. Imagine the kid is constantly feeling so much pressure from Azul’s expectations that when they fail a test after enrolling into NRC, the kid just SNAPS, overbloting and having a complete breakdown. And Ortho gives Azul and Idia a look that screams “See? I TOLD you so!”

It really has been a while! We don’t really think about family topics all that often though, so I guess it’s not very surprising lol

Thank god AzuIde kid has Ortho around because these two aren’t at all helpful with Idia hiding in his room for the majority of time and Azul almost being the second Riddle’s mom lol If it takes less time for them to overblot than it did for poor Riddle, it’s going to be very impressive. ESPECIALLY if the kid has Shroud blood, which means that they shouldn’t be able to overblot easily, if at all…

This is some great parenting right here.

Anonymous asked:

How do you think diasomnia would celebrate silver's birthday :)? I feel like Lilia would end up doing the least most birthdays,,, where he just ends up having sex, doing what he wanted anyway while barely being nicer to him than usual. Silver would be so grateful still lol

Anon, I am so sorry because I didn’t reply in time I completely missed the time when it would be perfect…. Sweet Silver, my precious fellow Taurus, I have failed you. 😔 But it’s better late than never!

I feel like Silver mentioned that they celebrate it together every year and take a picture together, and to be honest, I think Lilia actually cares a lot about making Silver’s birthday feel special. Even thinking back on how he made sure Silver would experience trick-or-treating on Halloween despite not having any neighbours, Lilia seems like someone who likes doing this type of thing. Silver himself doesn’t really care much though.

This doesn’t mean that Silver wouldn’t be very grateful even for a bare minimum of course, I think he gets this feeling of “there’s more?” every year after only receiving this “doing the least” level of attention from Lilia at first. Maybe Lilia would try to prank him as if he forgot about his birthday, but… Silver himself wouldn’t remember, so this isn’t much of a prank :(

Also ALSO! When it comes to sex, you are right; Lilia would present it as something special for Silver only, but he would ABSOLUTELY end up just going whatever he himself wanted to do lol

Anonymous asked:

Have you heard how horny Rollo is for the bell tho? Now that's a paraphilia if I've ever seen one. No clue how it would even work but mark my words, that boy will either fuck the bell or get fucked by the bell one way or another

Anonymous asked:

Rollo anon here, Malleus sneaks into the belltower to get railed by the gargoyles and comes face to face with Rollo getting off to the bell

Anon THIS PIECE OF ROLLO LORE IS SUCH A TREASURE (in the most unhinged horny unholy way possible). Just as with Gargoyles (both with Rollo and with Malleus), this is something that’s been on the back of my mind since we’ve heard this information lol There has to be a way… The bell is magical for a reason…

God Rollo would absolutely hate being interrupted and SEEN by Malleus of all people. Wait until he hears about the reasons why Malleus is even there, heheh.

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

True, Sebek is too hard on (pun intended) for Malleus to slip up unless he's REALLY distracted. Also can you two imagine...Lilia physically shows Sebek how to move using Silver as the example and then letting Sebek try right after, guiding Sebek's hips every once in a while to correct his rhythm and or movements he gets to stick it in.

(this is related to this post)

I’ll be honest, this is so stupidly easy to imagine that I don’t know if we should judge ourselves or Lilia for this LOL

He just wants to ensure that he has taught these boys everything that they need to know… This is a very important part of their training. Sebek is becoming a man. 🥹

Anonymous asked:

Yes yes, Jack has a knot, does that mean Leona and Che'nya have barbs? Is Ruggie's grandma packing? Twins in merform with no balls? Followup question: Who would be most into all the different kind of dicks?

Yes yes yes and yes. Someone also mentioned a possibility of Malleus having two dicks lol I always forget about all that stuff when it matters (i.e. when I actually draw it), and it sucks; we need more beastboy dicks! And Ruggie’s grandma too I guess… powerful woman :(

Now that I think about it, I really don’t draw balls when I draw Twins in their merform. But with merman in general, in our case it’s usually something that makes no sense biologically lol but at least it’s fun! And very hot.

As for the follow-up question, damn it I feel like the only correct answer here is Rook fucking Hunt, but since we don’t really see him on the receiving end of things, he is just here to appreciate.

Also you know, wild card? Riddle. He just isn’t aware of it yet. Also Idia because he has no choice and he’s seen too much weird porn.

#replies

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astrologanize · 9 months

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how do you make them feel? (platonic/romantic)

*please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are most drawn towards*

🍏 pile 1:

whoever you are inquiring about - you make this person reflect on things that bring up certain fears, you make this person feel like they don’t know what to do, you make this person feel more reserved and held back (in a positive and/or negative way), you make this person reconsider and reevaluate. when it comes to this connection you need to make sure you are also being self-reflective, you need to make sure that you aren’t assuming this connection is better than it actually is or treating this connection too lightly, it does seem like this connection is meant to teach both of you about something and in order to learn you need to get out of your ego and do some soul searching

🍎 pile 2:

whoever you are inquiring about - if this person is someone you don’t know very well then it’s definitely showing up that they’re neutral towards you, if this person is someone you are acquainted with that is in your life then you make them feel like it’s a more informal connection because i’m not seeing that you make this person feel much, if this person is someone from the past who is no longer in your life then you make them feel like there may have been some things left unsaid/that your connection was a defeat for them in some way but ultimately they feel like they are moving on and don’t want to rehash anything. when it comes to this connection you either need to change things up and challenge your maturity level or you need to think long & hard about this connection and what you can take away from it so that you can grow as a person

🍐 pile 3:

whoever you are inquiring about - you make this person feel comfortable, this person feels like you two have a routine or a very laid out dynamic with each other, you make them feel like there’s a reliability within your connection. when it comes to this connection it seems incredibly cyclic and you need to be wary of repeating the same experiences/lessons over and over with this person, either you need to avoid leaving too much open ended when it comes to this person because they can be/get a little too comfortable in this connection and feel like they don’t have to properly attend to your connection or the case is that you need to try to work on your own bad habits within this connection because this person overlooks a lot/is overly generous towards you

🍊 pile 4:

whoever you are inquiring about - you make this person feel challenged in a positive way, you make this person feel like they have to branch out more, you make this person utilize their wits and capabilities more, orrrr if this is someone you have beef or had beef with then you make this person feel uncomfortable and they have some shit to say about you lol. when it comes to this connection you need to make sure you’re invested and open to it because this isn’t a connection to brush off/close yourself off to, try to avoid reading into things and making snap judgments, try to give the benefit of the doubt, try to appreciate the connection, try to see the possibilities of what could be, try to take your time with it

🍋 pile 5:

whoever you are inquiring about - you make this person feel more focused on themselves, you may give this person an ego boost somehow. when it comes to this connection you shouldn’t be putting too much energy and effort towards it, this seems like a connection that is what it is so try to be easygoing, avoid trying to make strides towards this person or having aspirations for this connection, try to avoid being confrontational or getting your hackles up because it’s not worth it

🍉 pile 6:

whoever you are inquiring about - me no likey this pile. you make this person feel like they have the control and like they can do what they want with that so i am seeing a poor power dynamic. when it comes to this connection you need to grow a backbone and love yourself

#pick a card

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universitypenguin · 1 year

Text

Reissued Post - Backstory

Author's Note: Because Tumblr was having issues when I posted the original version of this, some of my followers are having trouble accessing it. I'm reissuing a few of my side piece stories so everyone can read them.

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,132

Masterlist

When do you think Lloyd realized he cared and had feelings for princess? I recall in the story that the guys would give Lloyd a hard time when princess finally found a boyfriend that Lloyd would be devastated (poor thing 😭) I also kinda wanna know how he felt while she was dating Aiden. Obviously we know he didn’t like Aiden at ALL lol but did Lloyd ever feel hurt in a way watching princess go on dates with him and when she talked about him?

Learning about Aiden

“Why are you being such a space case?”

You jumped at Lloyd’s question, startled out of your own little world. Scrambling, you shut your screen and re-focused.

“Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?”

Lloyd’s sharp blue eyes narrowed.

“Who are you texting?”

“Uh… no one?”

He leaned back in his desk chair and looked at you steadily. You curled tighter into the couch on the other side of his office, looking down at the floor.

“I still have that report to do… maybe I should go work in my office. I don’t want to distract you.”

“I’m already distracted, Princess. What’s the big secret?”

“I met a guy. You know that alumni mixer I went to a few weeks ago?”

Lloyd grunted. “Yeah.”

“His name is Aiden LeDoux. He moved in similar circles to me during college. We kind of hit it off.”

“That’s LeDoux, spelled like the country singer? What state does he live in?” Lloyd asked.

He typed the name into a search engine with the word, ‘Virginia’ to filter the results.

“Twenty-six, graduated three years ago, and works for AVT security?”

“That’s him. What did you find out?”

Lloyd glanced over. “You haven’t run a background check on him?”

“No. That’s for when I’m deciding whether to go on a date with him. But I’m curious.”

“Ah. Let’s do this.”

Lloyd cracked his knuckles and leaned over his computer. Your phone dinged with a message from Aiden, which you responded to as Lloyd typed.

“No speeding tickets, no parking tickets. His academic record was less than stellar. Apparently he subscribes to the philosophy that C’s get degrees.”

“Not everyone is academically inclined,” you said.

“But you are. What will you guys talk about on a date if you have nothing in common?”

“I don’t know. Football?”

Lloyd snorted. “Doesn’t start until September.”

“Oh. That’s why you’re not showering me with long winded descriptions of the athletic accomplishments of people I don’t know.”

“You could always mention how happy you were that the Atlanta Braves won the Superbowl.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I know that’s wrong, but I’m not sure which part.”

Lloyd snickered. “If you have to comment, just say that you’re a fan of anyone who isn’t the New England Patriots.”

“Noted. Anything else on Aiden? Slaps on the wrist from university institutions, or other authorities?”

“Ah-ha. He has three parking tickets at the university. And a complaint for under age drinking. You should reconsider the date. He’s clearly an alcoholic who steals parking spots. One of these tickets was for him parking over the line. Disgusting.”

You laughed. “Terrible. He was probably drunk when he parked. Maybe even high.”

Lloyd toggled over to a different page, one that Jake had set up for him. He typed in Aiden’s information and was surprised to see several security clearances. He checked out the company he worked for and found they had several Department of Defense contracts.

Lloyd memorized the contracts and filed the information away for future use.

Just in case.

Date # 1

You were wearing a short black dress with tights and a blazer. He’d noticed the hemline was shorter than usual, but the jet black tights made it work appropriate. The color only served to highlight the shape of your legs. Lloyd had tried not to be distracted. He failed miserably.

It didn’t help that the cut of the dress perfectly flattered your figure. He caught a glimpse of a spaghetti strap underneath your jacket and the image circulated in the back of his head for the rest of the day.

Fuck. He needed to get laid.

You were his friend and he needed to put aside this nonsense. The chemistry between you would never be realized and that was for the best. He sometimes wondered if the chemistry he felt was all one sided. Maybe you only saw him as a friend and a coworker, not a man.

“Has Y/N mentioned that she has a date tonight?” Jake asked.

Lloyd stiffened. “No. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

He tried to brush off the irritation, but it bubbled up throughout the day.

You had a date. That was fine. It was what single people did, right? They went on dates. He could arrange a date of his own, if he liked. With an age appropriate woman and not someone who was starting on soft foods when he was choosing a college. Lloyd’s eye twitched.

He glanced at the clock. If he wanted an update on the insurance investigation reports he needed to catch you before you head out. Reluctantly, he set off down the hall for your office.

Your door was closed, so he knocked.

“Just a sec!”

Did you sound breathless? When you opened the door, he saw why. The black tights were gone. In their place was a different kind of tights, made of mesh with a floral pattern that wound around your legs making them look long and sexy. The blazer was gone and your dress was held up by the thinnest of straps connected to a tight fitting bodice.

Your height was different, which prompted him to look down.

Fuck me heels. That’s what they’d called shoes like that when he was young. As the saying went, ‘you can’t walk in them, but you can wear them in bed.’

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Is this a first date?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any concerns about breaking an ankle? Or perhaps an entire leg?”

The shoes bothered him more than the dress.

You laughed and turned to the mirror you’d hung on the far wall of your office. He watched as you applied a fresh coat of red lip lacquer. The shiny finish made him think it wasn't lipstick, but at the same time, it had more color than lipgloss. He wondered if it was one of those fancy products with the no transfer formulas. The kind women usually wore when they planned on kissing a man.

A vibrant image of you on your knees with your lips around his dick came to mind. Lloyd shook his head to dislodge the image.

“Okay, now what do you think?”

“You look beautiful.”

He genuinely meant it.

“Really?” You tilted your head. “What’s missing? Please, just tell me.”

“Well… maybe it’s the context, but you don’t look like you in this outfit. It’s probably just me. I usually l see you in office wear.”

You flashed him a smile. “That’s perfect. I’m going more for attention than authenticity, you know?”

He didn’t, and couldn’t untangle the concept behind your statement. The authentic you was a far better version than this glamorous photo shoot ready version of you. With a quick peck on his cheek, you skirted by him and down the hall to the elevator.

Lloyd stood there, confused, disgruntled, and irritated that he hadn’t even asked about the insurance investigation he’d planned to bring up. He rubbed a hand over his face.

Fucking hell.

When he stepped into your office to lock the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. An imprint of red lipstick was on his right cheek. He stared at it for a long moment before he rubbed it away with his thumb.

Lloyd returned to his office in a much better mood than he’d left it.

Date #3

Jake had informed him of your last date, but this time it was Zach who let him know you were going on your third date with Aiden.

Lloyd ground his teeth.

“Careful there. Don’t crack a molar.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Would I do a thing like that?” Zach asked.

He was grinning like a little boy with a sadistic streak and a magnifying glass on a bright summer day.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Heck yeah, I am. Have you met the dude?”

Lloyd’s head swiveled. “No. Have you?”

“Yep. I waited outside, pretending to be on a call, so I could catch a glimpse.”

“That’s creepy.”

“No, it’s being nosy. I’m a private investigator. Being nosy is literally my job.”

“Well?” Lloyd said.

“He’s six foot three and probably weighs one forty. It’s like looking at a baby colt - all arms and legs, no substance.”

This was great news. If you weren’t attracted to him this would probably be over quickly.

“Did you to talk to him?”

Zach smirked. “I texted her that you needed an update on the insurance case and cornered him in the lobby.”

“She’s going to kill you when she finds out.”

“I bought him a coffee and did a twenty minute interrogation. He didn’t even know what I was doing. He thought I was just being friendly.”

Friendly wasn’t a word often applied to Zach Hightower. Lloyd got along with the Texan because they shared a devious streak and could lose themselves in the hunt; especially when the prey was other human beings.

“Give me your impression.”

“He’s squirrely. I don’t like him one bit.”

Lloyd focused completely on Zach.

“In what way?”

“He used the phrase ‘I was in a mood,’ and not ‘my mood was.’ Stuff like that. Princess got pretty annoyed when she found me getting cozy with her boyfriend.”

“She probably thought I sicced you on him.”

“She asked me what I thought of him this morning and I had to dodge the question,” Zach said. “Landon noticed I didn’t answer and asked what was up. When I told him about interviewing Aiden, he said the mood thing is a sign of a personality problem.”

“What kind?”

Zach shrugged. “The kind that makes you an asshole.”

“She’s going out with him tonight?”

“I guess so.” Zach said.

A long moment passed as Zach stared at Lloyd, expectant.

“Well?”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to say something to her?” Zach asked.

“You’re the one who thinks her boy toy has a personality problem. You say something.”

“Landon said that, not me. I can tell he’s the kind of guy things just ‘happen’ to. The kind that doesn’t realize they’re responsible for how they act.”

“I’m not going to disturb her relationship.”

Zach sighed. “You’re such a bitchy little girl.”

Lloyd sneered. “And you’re a nosy old woman.”

“It’s my job, asshole.”

Date #5

Lloyd should’ve been suspicious when Zach brought him to a bar that didn’t have chandeliers made of antlers.

Obstensivey, this outing was to distract him from your date tonight. When he found himself sitting at a table on the mezzanine of a place called “Club Violet,” questions should have come up.

Jake sat to his left and Zach across from him. When Zach’s eyes began to stray around the room, Lloyd mimicked the behavior, almost out of habit. The lower area held the majority of the crowd. Its large dance floor pulsed with activity and the bar was packed.

Then, he saw what Zach was looking for. You were perched on a barstool, your arms twined around Aiden’s neck. He was standing in front of you, his hands caressing your hips, straying lower than they ought to.

Lloyd’s breath hissed. “Jake, if I throw Zach head first over this railing, do you think he’ll die?”

“Huh?” Jake’s head snapped up from his phone. He stared. “What?”

“I could just snap his neck with my bare hands.” Lloyd’s tone was conversational.

Jake looked between them and then back to his phone. “Landon will be here any minute.”

“Off topic, boy wonder,” Lloyd grumbled.

“It’s relevant. We need two of us to break you up.”

“He’s been waylaid,” Zach said.

Lloyd glanced down and saw that your position had changed. You’d let go of your boyfriend to speak with a newcomer. Even from a distance in dim lighting, he could identify Landon’s fade haircut and the military straight posture.

“Damn it.”

He snarled at Zach, who returned a Cheshire cat grin.

“Well, well, well… look who's coming up the steps.”

Lloyd didn’t need to look. He knew you’d be on your way over. He covered his eyes and groaned.

“I’m blaming you for everything. Everything.”

“Why are you guys playing the role of protective older brothers?” Jake asked.

“Because Aiden’s a squirrely little punk,” Zach said. “See? He isn’t even coming with her.”

Lloyd uncovered his eyes and frowned when he saw Zach was right. Aiden was still at the bar. He’d turned to a girl with raven’s wing hair and was chattering away, looking suspiciously like he was trying to pick her up. His eyes narrowed as something cold moved in his chest.

You arrived on the second level with Landon and were rapidly approaching.

“What’s our cover story?” Jake asked.

“No cover story,” Zach said.

At least Zach was being straightforward, even if he was obnoxious. Lloyd tossed back half of his bourbon and hoped some liquid courage would take the edge off.

Your eyes cut to Zach when you stopped at the head of the table.

“What are you? The Gladys Kravits of Bishop & Howard?”

The big, blond Texan flashed a smile.

“Why thank you, sweetheart. In my profession, that’s the highest compliment one could hope to achieve.”

With an exasperated groan, you dropped into the chair beside Zach, and turned to Lloyd with an expectant expression.

“Can’t you collar him?”

“I’ve tried. Shock collars, choke chains… Nothing has worked.”

Zach slung an arm around the back of Princess’ chair.

“Your boyfriend is an asshole. Landon? You talked to him.”

“Just for ten seconds.”

You shared a look with the dark haired man and slanted Zach a sidelong glance.

“You’re paranoid. I think you should see someone about that.”

He laughed. “I have. They can’t fix me.”

It was annoying that Zach’s arm had moved forward on your chair and was now pressed against your back. Did he think he was your best friend, rather than Lloyd? He had the urge to kick the other man under the table.

You turned to Jake.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re right. These two,” he gestured to the older men, “are crazy. I think it’s age.”

“Shut up, punk. I can kick your ass any day of the week,” Zach said.

It was pretty much true. Zach only had two inches in height on the young man, but it was the solid 60 pounds of muscle that made him an immovable force. You couldn’t see the weight until he took off his jacket and even then, there was only a hint of the musculature. Zach never wore clothing that drew attention to his physique. He let it come as a nasty surprise to anyone stupid enough to mess with him.

You were bantering with the Texan about him being your nanny. Lloyd watched closely and all he could see in Zach’s behavior was a paternal kind of affection. He knew a thing or two about Zach and because of that, he doubted there were any hidden motivations behind his actions.

What about Aiden had triggered Zach’s instincts? The way he talked. The lack of ownership of behavior. Lloyd tried to evaluate that on its own, treating it as fact. He could see the issue Zach was insisting was such a problem. Sitting there with the others bantering around the table, Lloyd turned his thoughts inward, pretending to present as he ran through the logic in his mind.

He was paying enough attention to the conversation to notice you were gently trying to soothe Zach’s nerves. It seemed to be working, too. Landon was watching you closely and asking questions from interrogation school 101. By the time you left the table, pausing to hug Zach and reassure him that you were totally fine and had listened to all of his red flags, Lloyd had come to a decision.

“What do you think?” Zach asked Landon when you were gone.

“I’m not sure. He seems insecure but hey, some guys of his age just are.”

Zach groaned and shook his head. He picked up his beer and tilted it at Lloyd in a salute.

“Look at the benefits of being nosy. I talked some sense into her.”

Lloyd grunted. He waited for the right moment to corner Landon alone. He caught his shoulder and turned him away from the bar, where he’d been heading.

“Come on. You don’t need another beer.”

“Excuse me?” Landon demanded.

“I want to talk to this Aiden kid. If Zach’s this worried about him, we need to check him out.”

“When did this become ‘we,’ rather than just you,” Landon asked.

“Hurry up, we’re losing him.”

Aiden was heading toward the door and the crowd prevented them from following as closely as they would have preferred. By the time they hit the sidewalk, Aiden was out of sight. Lloyd spun around, scanning the area.

“Shit. We lost him.”

“Is that him?” Landon asked.

Lloyd whirled.

He searched the crowd for a tall, thin man but didn’t find him.

“Where?”

“With the blonde.”

Lloyd’s eyes narrowed on the silhouette of a couple standing in the shadow of a street lamp.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“No,” Landon said.

Lloyd was almost ready to approach when the couple turned and began walking away.

Landon grabbed his elbow.

“Come on. Let’s not be weird. If you have something to say about Princess’ relationship, say it to her.”

“What, exactly, am I supposed to tell her that Zach hasn’t already?”

Landon snorted.

“You know he’s only saying it because he knows you won’t.”

Lloyd paused. “He is?”

“Yeah. We were expecting you to meet him at least before date number three. But she said you didn’t seem interested, so she wasn’t going to bother.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because we talked about it-”

“We? We, as in who?”

“Everyone. Except for you and Princess.”

Lloyd grunted. “Which is why Zach decided to get nosy.”

Landon shrugged. “He’s your best friend and you’re her best friend. It balances out. We get why you don’t want to step in, and that’s why Zach did.”

They were nearly at the entrance of the club again, when Lloyd stopped short.

“Should I be worried about this guy?”

Landon grunted, rocking back on his heels. The look on his face was all the answer Lloyd needed.

“Right. I’ll look into it.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Masterlist

#series: the princess & the lawyer #the princess & the lawyer #the princess and the lawyer #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen au #chris evans characters #chris evans characters fanfic #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem! reader #the princess and the lawyer: ask #the princess & the lawyer: ask

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intermundia · 2 years

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hello! my name is will :)

what to expect here: it’s like half aesthetic posts and half star wars, specifically obi-wan and anakin, aka the team, with romantic obikin. i also post about ancient greece a bit, and applied my classics degree pointing out some cultural history of obikin dynamics.

i made edits of obi-wan saying “anakin” and anakin saying “master” at each other and a combo. i love to read about star wars and talk about it, esp. the revenge of the sith novel. sometimes i write meta about it all. i also collect star wars books too (more than 300 so far!)

i've also officially published more than 50 obikin stories! if you are interested in checking out what i have written, here are links and short descriptions of all my works, from novels to PWPs. i'm really proud to have reached this milestone (750k words! whew). thank you guys for all your support along the way <3

Novel-length stories:

Lex Talionis: COMPLETE Plotty, smutty, Sith AU. It’s my take on how Obi-Wan and Anakin could fall to the dark side, weaving in as much lore as I can. Force dyad, Sith’ari, Zygerria, etc. Obi-Wan and Anakin go through.. character development.. and it is dramatized in the changing way they have sex. I poured in all of my theories about metaphysics and the Force, all my knowledge about Augustus and how a Republic dies, all of my opinions about consent and agency. It has rough sex in it and some uncomfortable power dynamics that get resolved, so it is not for everyone, just a heads up. It is complete, and yes, there is a happy ending lol. War Drums: IN PROGRESS Darth Vader dies at the end of Return of the Jedi full of regret and wakes up in his 10-yr-old body after the events of the Phantom Menace. Young Obi-Wan struggles to acclimate to the death of Qui-Gon and the discovery that the boy he swore to train grew up into a Sith. Vader tries to use his knowledge to fix the galaxy and Obi-Wan uses his training to make sure they do it the right way. Anakin underwent his rite and is now an adult, galaxy beware. Murder Puppy: IN PROGRESS Obi-Wan’s decision to do more than flirt with the enemy ends up accidentally acquiring a clingy Sith acolyte, and he is tasked with holding his leash while they work together to end the war. This will probably end up around 40k so a bit shorter than the other two, which are chunkier

Core Oneshots: (my argument for the ship, basically)

Symposium: The story that started it all for me haha. I put Plato's Symposium in a word document and transformed it into a scene where Obi-Wan is forced to reconsider his relationship with Anakin, while dosed with an aphrodisiac, which leads to lines being crossed back in their hotel room. It suggests the erastēs/erōmenos dynamic that appears in much of my work. Unwrap, Wrap: Obi-Wan needs emotional hurt/comfort. This story has him fall apart, and Anakin help put him back together, after a traumatic battle late in the clone wars. Dramatizes the way that the war has muddied their roles and how much their lives are entangled. Obi-Wan gets a handjob in the shower, also, if that is relevant.

Longer Canon AUs: (8k+ words, AUs that take place in the GFFA)

Nostos: Technically a sequel to Symposium. It explores would happen if you took the dynamic established in Symposium and then put the characters in the canon end of Attack of the Clones. How would their behavior be impacted? How would the Jedi react to their decisions? Suckerpunch: Set during the Clovis arc, after Anakin had his jealous fight. Obi-Wan checks on him, and learns about both his marriage and the Tuskens. He doesn't want to lose his apprentice to the dark side, or a Senator. Ready Stance: Anakin is bored during a hyperspace journey during the clone wars, so he asks Obi-Wan to spar. Obi-Wan watches him warm up, they spar, and things escalate. This fic explores more core facets of their relationship, like the legacy teaching dynamic. Found, Fixed: Post-Zygerria Obi-Wan hurt/comfort. It’s similar to Unwrap, Wrap, except it’s told from Anakin’s POV and is much more explicit. It’s one of my rare bottom!Obi-Wan fic, he gets taken care of and comforted from being whumped so hard by the show. Anakin Sucks: Anakin has an oral fixation and it drives Obi-Wan to distraction over the course of the Clone Wars, 5+1 crack taken very seriously lol Make War: show!era Obi-Wan after fighting Vader on Mapuzo shares a dream with him while suspended in bacta. Warning for noncon!! Now with a second chapter set after their near miss on Jabiim. Third chapter based on the kenobi show finale hopefully will be out soon!

A/B/O Stories: (AUs that have this squicky trope, all set in GFFA)

Warm Blood: A/B/O fic that people seem to enjoy. Features omega Anakin having a suppressant failure on the battlefield and going into heat. Alpha Obi-Wan has to fight his way to him, and then tries to resist his instincts—until Anakin confesses his true feelings. Run Away With Me: A/B/O sequel to Warm Blood, tells the story of what happened after the mating, how they left the Jedi and what they’ve been doing. Anakin is preparing to go into heat, and Obi-Wan is helping him nest. Set during Revenge of the Sith, though they don’t know what’s happening in their isolation. Temporary Like Achilles: A/B/O fic. Alpha Obi-Wan is drugged by Dathomirian Nightsisters into a feral state, omega Anakin finds and rescues him. It's a fuck or die with feelings and ultimately a happy ending. Heat Haze: A/B/O fic. Alpha Obi-Wan is living alone on Tatooine, 10yrs post Mustafar. Omega Anakin is about to go into his first heat, and is searching for his mother during the Attack of the Clones. The Force shifts Anakin into the future, bringing the two together in time for Anakin’s heat to begin. Heat Shimmer: A/B/O fic. Alpha Obi-Wan is on Geonosis during Attack of the Clones, investigating. Preheat omega Darth Vader is on Geonosis 13 years later, and the Force decides to move him back in time for his heat. They fight, but it's impossible to fight some insticts. Give Up, Give In: A/B/O fic. Qui-Gon lived AU. Omega Obi-Wan is dosed with a heat inducer during a mission. Alpha Anakin who has loved the older Knight forever doesn’t handle that very well. Ends with Service Top Anakin, a favorite of mine

Longer Modern AUs: (8k+ words, developed AUs that attempt to model the canon dynamic in everyday life)

My Anankē: Classics AU is built on the premise that Obi-Wan would never break the rules re: teacher/student fraternization. He would rather endure years of mutual pining than act inappropriately. Once Anakin’s graduated though, that’s a different story. These are oneshots telling the story of their relationship. It is not told in chronological order, so each one basically opens up another window into their lives. Soulbound: Obi-Wan is a bossy lawyer who plays World of Warcraft. Anakin is an insecure veteran who is in Obi-Wan’s guild and drives him insane. They meet randomly in a bar, and Obi-Wan realizes that Anakin acts the way he does because he likes to be bossed around—so he bosses him around. Zone of Truth: Obi-Wan basically helped raise Anakin through being his Big Brother mentor through a local gaming shop, eventually teaching him to drive and getting him an internship etc. Anakin graduates college and Obi-Wan turns into a ghost, for very good reasons, it turns out. Anakin’s betrayed him, and he’s betrayed himself.

Shorter Smutty AUs: (shorter stories, canon + AUs)

Snap, Crackle, Pop: Padawan Anakin gets braid tugging and spanking after behaving very badly during the Battle of Muunilinst early in the Clone Wars. Tilted: Anakin wakes up after Mortis in a female body and hides, struggling to come to terms with the change. Obi-Wan comes to check on him and reassure him, smut ensues. Make Your Siren’s Call: show!era Obi-Wan struggles to fall asleep in the cave from the photoshoot, and dreams about his old apprentice, full of guilt, angst, and smut Stress Relief: Sith-like/Dom!Obi-Wan is rough on eager!Anakin in their Temple apartment, plays on Master/Padawan dynamic. Unperishing Glory: Homeric AU, Anakin is Achilles-type Chosen One and Obi-Wan is his Patroclus-type mentor-friend, angsty sex Murder Puppy: Playful!Obi-Wan seduces raisedSith!Anakin during a duel, bringing him back to the light during sex. People seem to really like this one, it is one of the things I get the most asks about. I have plans for a short story to expand, it’s on the WIP list I promise. Unwelcome Guest: An AU where Obi-Wan couldn't strike Anakin down on Mustafar. Suitless!Vader comes to find him on Tatooine, and wants to be punished for mistakes, there is spanking involved. Rosetta Stone: Based on the Mummy, an AU where Obi-Wan is a librarian and Anakin is a former soldier, and they defeated a mummy together. Obi-Wan is oblivious and repressed, so Anakin has to be very forward. Safe as Houses: Based on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Anakin is the slayer and Obi-Wan is his Giles-like librarian watcher. Anakin seeks Obi-Wan out in crisis and Obi-Wan takes care of him. The Outlander: Obi-Wan fell to the dark on Naboo AU, so Qui-Gon is Anakin’s Master instead. Anakin sneaks out of the Temple to a club to meet possessive Obi-Wan, there is smut against a wall outside, and Anakin falls to the dark side. Please, Daddy?: Daddy kink fic. Features a bratty Anakin, sex pheromones, spanking and just general daddy!filth. A New Hope: Anakin never left Tatooine AU. He becomes a Han Solo-type pilot who helps a rebel!Obi-Wan escape the Empire. He’s a touch starved, praise starved, virgin who’s insecure about his missing hand. Obi-Wan takes good care of him. Communication, What Communication: Organized Crime AU with collegeStudent!Anakin and accidentalSugarDaddy!Obi-Wan, gratitude kink haha. This fic has been picked up and turned into the phenomenal multichapter story Recoil and Ricochet by @wernnaa.

Potidaea, 432BC: Alcibiades!Anakin and his tutor Socrates!Obi-Wan fight together in the phalanx. Armor kink and period-accurate intercrural sex ensue lol. Minikin and Tiny-Wan: Fluff and crack based on the premise that there are tiny figurines of the Jedi that are alive (kind of like the little dragons in the goblet of fire). Obi-Wan and Anakin each get one, and their Tinys enjoy each other’s company, leading to an awkward but useful conversation. #BinGate: Great British Bake Off AU, Anakin is a contestant who lost his temper and destroyed his bake, Obi-Wan is a judge who enjoys scolding Anakin. Let Me, Master: Padawan Obi-Wan, shy demisexual Master Anakin, Obi-Wan throws caution to the wind and finally seduces his clueless Master, smut ensues with bottom Obi-Wan. Anakin, Duke of Vader, Prince of Coruscant: Anakin is a bratty, troubled prince and Obi-Wan is his unimpressed knight bodyguard. Anakin cries, showing true vulnerability, and Obi-Wan realizes he has a kink for that lmao Sic Transit Gloria Mundi: Sexually frustrated after sparring with his Master, Anakin decides to visit the glory hole in the locker room. Little does he know, he’s not the only one. Boy Toy: Obi-Wan is a fashion designer and Anakin is a first time model. They’ve just finished a boytoy themed photoshoot and get trapped together in an elevator Brotherhood: Anakin is a college student in a spiral after the death of his mother, and his father Qui-Gon left for a trip, leaving his much older step-brother Obi-Wan, who he doesn't know very well, in charge. Obi-Wan picks Anakin up from jail, and the argument goes places. Hard Racing: Anakin is a Formula 1 driver and Obi-Wan is his team principal. After an accident at the Azerbaijan Grand Prix where he ran into his teammate, he is sore, tired, and afraid of getting demoted from his spot. Obi-Wan comes to his hotel to reassure him of his value to him and the team. Beer and Paint: Obi-Wan and Anakin are both apprentices to famous artist Qui-Gon. Anakin has tattoos/piercings/blue streak in his hair, and Obi-Wan is obsessed. Sloppy art and drunk sex ensue.

Smutty +F fic AUs: (short fics that includes Padmé or Ventress)

Très Lecherous: Padmé and Obi-Wan agree to share subby!Anakin, this fic is all three together, and includes DP if that is your jam. Blue Shadow Virus: continuation of above AU, Padmé almost died on Naboo and Anakin doesn’t take it well. Obi-Wan and Padmé dom him into relaxing Post-Revenge: Set after the episode of TCW where Ventress rescues Obi-Wan from Maul and Savage. This is only Ventress/Obi-Wan, but Anakin is extremely present in the fact that Ventress uses Obi-Wan's secret feelings for Anakin to incite him into hate sex. Plus Anakin Makes 3: Sort of a sequel to the Post-Revenge fic, Anakin discovers Obi-Wan and Ventress having a tryst, decides to participate rather than freak out, so more DP haha.

Collaborations: (stories i co-authored with friends)

Apartment Story: Post-Deception arc reconciliation fic, where Obi-Wan is drunk and Anakin is angry. Feelings are revealed, and comfort, understanding and smut ensues. Written with my friend @whohatessandas a RP and adapted into a story. Satellite Mind: What would happen if Obi-Wan could hear Anakin’s thoughts? Spoiler: it does not go well. Set during the last few days of the clone wars, and tracks how their relationship combusted over Anakin’s secrets. Written with @theseptemberist.

#thanks for stopping by <3

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redheadloverr · 8 months

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Asking them to be flings!

continuation to this post!

gn!reader x ayato, childe (texting version for the busy men <3) !

quick A/N for my followers! i’ve had the worst writers block for months but im hoping i can continue & finish this mini series soon!

ayato

ayato was taken aback by what you had said. his first words were “Pardon?” which made you spiral. though the two of you were flirtatious, you never knew if it was just friendly banter or anything serious. ayato was and always has been flirty towards you which often led you to have mixed signals and you were tired of it! maybe the way you went about it wasn’t the best idea but it was an idea!

you quickly say it was a joke, and that you just wanted to see his reaction after getting a little embarrassed over him not seeming to have reciprocated your feelings. he simply responds with a little “:(“ before you quickly throw your phone at a wall and start quietly screaming over what he meant. you pick your phone back up to see another message from him.

“I didn’t expect you to say such a thing, y/n. if you wanted to ‘see my reaction’ then i would’ve gladly expected your invitation. now will you reconsider it being a ‘joke’?” you threw your phone and once again screamed harder into your pillow. was this really happening? you had to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. yup. you surely weren’t after how hard you pinched yourself, you even left a little bruise. you gathered up all your courage to send a message back. a quick, straight to the point, response.

except you didn’t know how to entirely convey how you truly felt. you thought the easiest way to respond was to just spill your guts. so you gave it your all and told him everything. you told him how you could never tell if the flirtatious banter had real meaning behind it and how you wished he’d see you the way you see him. you send the text, not even looking to see if you made any grammatical errors, and throw your phone anxiously waiting for him to respond.

you hear the ‘ding!’ and rush to grab your phone. you read the text with anticipation. “So with that I’m guessing your little ‘joke’ wasn’t such a joke, right? For the record, I was in the same boat as you, y/n. Our flirtatious banter was all serious to me. If your little joke is still up for grabs however, i’d love to set up a dinner date before we consider such a possibility. :)” you blush a little as you respond back with a quick little “i’d love to go out to dinner, ayato.”

childe

when you originally send the text to childe, you thought he’d take it as a joke. a part of you was waiting for him to just laugh at you and go back to your old conversation. so it was a shock to you when he sent a text saying “are you serious? this doesn’t sound like you, y/n?”

“lol, what do you mean? of course i’m serious..” you reply back trying to get his authentic response back.

“y/n are you drunk? what do you mean you want to be ‘flings’? do you even know what that is?” he responds frantically. “is someone there with you? are you being held captive? do you need me to come help you?”

“childe, i’m not being held captive. you don’t have to come rescue me. i was just curious about having a friends with benefits relationship. i wanted to ask you since i feel like we had good chemistry but if you don’t feel the same that’s completely fine, i’ll find someone else.” you thought you’d had possibly hit a subject that even childe thought was outrageous, something so unlike you it made him a little stunned.

“wait!” you see a message appear just as you set your phone down. “don’t look for someone else! if you want a friends with benefits please don’t looks for someone else.” you were a little stunned by childes new messages, you thought he was looking almost down at you for even suggesting such a thing and now he’s telling you not to look for someone to do just that? “what do you mean, childe?” you send a quick message back, ready for the worst.

“i’ll do it, if it’s purely physical what you’re looking for, please don’t look for it in someone else.” he came off almost jealous, which only made you more confused. as if you didn’t already stumble across so many plot twist, childe’s next message really sent you down a loophole.

“y/n, i don’t won’t you looking for anyone else. in fact, if we do become friends with benefits, i hope i can be the only one to see this side of you.” his words hit you like a brick, and although you didn’t know if he meant his words the way you took them, you decided this was as good of a chance as any to tell childe the real reason you asked him of all people.

you take a deep breath as you send a message to childe, short and straight to the point. “listen, childe. i actually asked you to be friends with benefits because i’ve actually liked you for a really long time now.” you send it and anxiously wait for childe’s response.

you hear a buzz as you check your phone. sure enough, it was childe. “i didn’t know you felt that way, y/n. i’m honored, maybe we should talk about this more in person however. i’d hate to start a relationship over text. :)”

bonus : you and childe agree to meet, childe offers to take you out to dinner and go for a walk on the beach afterwards. while on a walk at beach, you feel childe stop behind you, you turn to look at him in the dimly night sky as his eyes gaze upon you. “y/n, now that we’re here in person i’d like to formally ask you this.” childe takes out a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back, “will you be my partner, y/n?”

bonus A/N; sorry for the bonus only on childe’s part but i’ve had the biggest brainrot for him and just had to make his a little more extra, i hope you’ve enjoyed <3 (also sorry for not doing xingqiu, i felt weird even trying to make him one of these)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact ayato #genshin ayato #kamisato ayato #ayato kamisato #kamisato ayato genshin impact #genshin impact childe #genshin childe #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin tartagalia #genshin tartaglia x reader

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unicyclehippo · 10 months

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Lol, team issylra questioner here. I can't wait to read your thoughts on the matter (that's why I hit you up!). I recognize that out of universe the reason it matters is because the players want it to matter but what I'm really interested is in the character perspective because I'm just sitting through the intense conversations trying and failing to feel the difference.

here is the very beginning of what is honestly becoming an essay:

in some ways, i actually completely agree with this (your take on the situation)! initially, i felt like it wasn't quite so traumatic as was being expressed. but it is stated to have been very traumatic so to me, i like to take that as? sort of a challenge? i like to reconsider events & factors & arrange them so that i can view them through a characters lens & understand why. Why do the players feel like that? Why do the characters feel like that? it has been canonically shown that team issylra felt like their journey was unsettling, upsetting, traumatising & after some consideration, i agree. for me, it comes down to two factors—uncertainty & betrayal—& how those factors challenge & change these particular characters.

i am up to 2.5k now & just made myself a coffee, hoping to belt out all the rest today. the deeper i get into it, the more i want to rewatch & get specifics to back up my claims but i truly dont ahve the time lmaooo. maybe i will read through the transcripts...

#you can ignore this

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obstinaterixatrix · 2 months

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also went on a paddle boat with sister, it was fun I haven’t done it in like 7 years. we stopped by a book store, and

1) there’s a physical copy of A Hero in the Demon King’s Castle which was surprising to me because syohei(/inutoki)’s got really off-beat style so I’ve figured they’d be too niche to be licensed, plus it had a dust jacket WITH author/artist bio AND the extra comics on the actual cover… I didn’t get it because I’m not quite ride or die for it, but I am reconsidering because syohei’s art is just really fun. plus it’s just a well-printed book, how often do you see manga printed in eng with dust jackets? I’ll probably reread it and see if I Really Do Want It. if anyone wants a bit of a wacky read with interesting art, give it a look. I actually… really like inutoki & syohei’s other anthology more because I really like the love interest of the main oneshot but it also has one oneshot that’s pretty vicious to the point I’m not sure I’d actually get a physical copy lol

2) speaking of pretty vicious, a physical copy of one of asada nemui’s works was there which I think is pretty cool, her art is sooo interesting to look at. it’s not as crazy as syohei’s, but it just feels… direct? impactful? just an appealing style. I wouldn’t buy a physical copy of that one, but I’d get one of sleeping dead… I’d consider getting the anthology but she really paired two of my favorite oneshots while having the main story have My Hardline Exclusion Criteria 😞 I’d get the other anthology tho, no hard no’s in that one. where was I going with this? well, if you like strange morose rancid toxic romances, definitely look up asada nemui and also a list of content warnings

3) on that note, it made sense to list manga alphabetically by title back when it’d take up a single shelf max, but I think book stores really need to rethink manga shelving, especially since more bl with smut/het with smut/yuri with smut is getting licensed and distributed

3a) by the way there were quite a few yuri titles, which is a cool change! I already had the one I liked

3b) buy ‘5 seconds before a witch falls in love’ it’s so good. I LOVE the main story. I am lukewarm on the other oneshot. the main story is SOOOO fun, zeniko sumiya has kind of a more shounen-esque art style and she usually draws bl so you need to treasure her fun & dumb witch/witch hunter shenanigans

3c) I mistyped shenanigans as shenanigals lmao that kinda fits still

3a) and the other ~15 I’ve read and dropped because I wasn’t interested in them (I showed sister the cover of SHWD—like, I also want muscular women but I cannot get over some of the anatomy, those are beach balls attached to her chest? like it’s not the aesthetic of Anime Titty Jiggle Physics but I really cannot get over it) but I’m glad there’s more yuri. mostly. I hate that the gamer one is there, the art and writing is so weirdly uncomfortably… H for something that is a SFW slice of life, and I didn’t like a few of the other series that sister pointed out because they were really. too long with not enough sense of direction/momentum to have satisfying character/relationship progression. BUT IT’S GOOD THAT MORE YURI IS BEING LICENSED.

3) anyway I was thinking that there should probably be more a delineation between either genres or age of audience, but at the same time, that’s tricky—having an 18+ section could make it uncomfortable for folks who enjoy being able to browse without a glaring neon sign that indicates they’re looking at smut, dividing by genre can make it tough for folks who want to take a look at gay romances/lgbtq autobio more surreptitiously,

3d) well, I would imagine it’s less of a huge deal now than it was ~15 years ago, but homophobia still is a thing

3) so in the end I have no defined conclusion to my thoughts on manga shelving in english-speaking countries

4) I saw several copies of nagisa furuya’s works! I might go back for number call, that was the first one of hers I’ve read and it’s really cute. I was telling sister, this might sound bad but I like how… standard her art & writing is, it’s very clean and pleasant, her low(ish)-stakes slice of life fluff is really good. also nice to have sfw options for introducing folks to bl

5) this is completely unrelated to this bookstore trip but a couple of weeks ago I saw an m/f romance and was like. do I know this artist from bl??? but I looked up the artist and didn’t see anything I would recognize, it’s just… the way older men is drawn is so…

5) like I know I’m stupid biased because I read an inadvisable amount of bl but he looks like a guy straight out of my miserable office worker bls. I feel like I should know him from bl. I guess I just forget that m/f fans also like older men because all the josei romances I’m involuntarily exposed to are very (…) Like That

5a) mangaplanet REALLY needs to reorganize its genre divisions. hardcore josei smut shouldn’t be lumped with shoujo. hentai should not be lumped with shounen. guys what is going on there

5) but I’ve been thinking of reading it because even by style alone it looks like it’ll at least be unique m/f (though, if I’m gonna read m/f, my preference would be for a miserable older office lady and kinda punk-ish younger guy, but oh well…) it’s just, the cognitive dissonance of squinting at this guy and being like. you belong in a bl.

6) I need to get back out of the habit of reading bls to pass out at 2am 😔 for a while I finally dragged myself back to sleeping at 1am with my baby leash (screen lock) but I’m back in my bad habits. I could at least look at the unhinged horror m/f racher’s been begging me to read just to diversify what I’m pouring into my brain. oh, also sister gave me night is short walk on girl to read and the writer really did deserve all his awards, his character voice is extremely arresting

#my ramblings

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troutfur · 7 months

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Oh I ended up missing the first window! The preference for female characters has made me realize how the (permanent) members of Thunderclan's Augur den in Augur!Frostfour AU is a no boys zone between Frostflower, Yellowfang, Brightheart and Cinderstream LOL. Moth Flight must be rooting for them somewhere in Starclan.

So the prompt: A light-hearted scene where Brightpaw tells her mom Cloudpaw will be her future husband. Frostflower's frustrated while Brightpaw is in her rebellious 'no one understands me MOM' phase. Set pre-dog attack.

Hope that fits the bill as a recursive AU of To Aaron and his sons! I've also been trying to put together a prompt for the Tanistry AU but canon WC leadership is so male dominated this guy is struggling.

Hi, hi, hi! Glad to see you back!

Oooh, I love this. This is gonna be good. I don't have much prologue today so let's jump right in!

(I still very much am in need of prompts, so if you wanna help me get to November 30th, read my guidelines and give me one.)

“Brightpaw,” Frostflower said with a heavy sigh as she turned away from the piles Cinderpaw and her had been hunched over sorting and towards her other daughter.

Time had seemed oportune to discuss her daughters’ future when during the middle of an herb sorting session Brightpaw had come in complaining about sore pads. With Thornpaw and Brackenpaw taking care of ThunderClan’s foreign relations and a deputy old enough to have been Cinderpaw’s mentor, the rare opportunity had been presented for them to take a tom as a mate just because they fancied them. But having heard the name that’d just come out of her warrior apprentice daughter’s mouth she was now more than ever understanding why matriarchs and patriarchs often had to be the ones arranging the matches.

“I urge you to reconsider,” she continued. “I really want to believe you can be trusted with the priviledge to choose your own mate instead of leaving me to arrange it for you. It would be a shame that you let this opportunity go to waste due to a fleeting attraction to a troublemaker.”

“It’s not like that,” Brightpaw insisted. “Cloudpaw is not just a troublemaker. What’s your problem with him anyway? Weren’t you on Fireheart’s side when he brought him into the Clan?”

“That was before he gave me a reason to regret it,” she replied. “He’s rude, barely shows the bare minimum of piety, speaks out of turn all the time, he even betrayed the Clan once already! I really would think that whatever you find charming of him would be greatly eclipsed. He’s not even got an attractive pelt for you to be so set on him.”

“He came back to us,” Brightheart countered. “He’s hard working, he’s talented, he’s brave, and the deputy’s son. So what if he is not afraid to speak his mind? If you listened to him you’d know he’s right sometimes. And with an attitude like that he would make a great deputy to Firestar.”

“There is such a thing as impertinence, Brightpaw,” Frostflower said. “And from the looks of it, it’s rubbing off on you. For all their virtues Fireheart and Cloudpaw share this flaw. And it’d be a shame for you to embarass our great lineage by emulating that kind of kittypet behavior.”

“Why do you have to be so hard on them all the time?” Brightpaw said. “Don’t you see how much work Fireheart puts into running the Clan? He’s more of a leader than Bluestar at this point!”

Frostflower looked down at Cinderpaw’s twisted leg. Although her anger with Fireheart had mostly subsided it was still hard to accept how quickly her trust in him had resulted in this. Cinderpaw gave a glare at her mother as she caught her staring. Ever since that argument moons ago that even Bluestar had to get involved in she really couldn’t voice her thoughts on the situation without her daughter turning defensive of her former mentor.

“I need to be a harsh critic of them if they’re going to overcome their natural tendencies and become great ThunderClan warriors,” Frostflower settled on as her response. “I’m not asking that you stop being Cloudpaw’s friend or that you stop being fond of him. Only StarClan knows when Bluestar will allow you and your sister to swap positions again so you will likely end up being denmates for a while longer. I just ask you to consider your choice of mate better.”

“Cloudpaw is my choice,” Brightpaw insisted.

“Why don’t you try and get closer to Ashpaw instead?” she suggested. “I know he can be a little reserved and quiet but surely that just means he’d be more amenable to listening to you. Don’t you think that would be a better quality to look in the father of the next generation of patricians?”

“If you’re not going to listen to me I’m leaving,” Brightpaw declared as she turned around back into camp.

Frostflower gave a deep and prolonged sigh before turning towards Cinderpaw. It was a cold comfort, but at least with Brightpaw set on taking Cloudpaw as a mate she was sure her other daughter could not pick anyone worse. And with the tense atmosphere in the air still hanging between them they set out to continue their work.

#warrior cats #wc #warrior cats au #augur au #frostfur #brightheart #cinderpelt #cloudtail #fireheart

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pinktom · 9 months

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this is for that random character asks post you reblogged, but SPECIFICALLY for tom, harry, and the twins from lover's spit! 13, 17, 19, 24, 50

I've held onto this ask like a little treat for a special occasion. Thanks for asking, anon! These are really interesting questions.🐍💚

This is for the real ones, so it's going beneath a 'keep reading' cut. x)

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Twins

OK. They've definitely smoked nutmeg, and tripped so badly, they were running naked, sweating, crying. (For those who don't know: never smoke nutmeg lmao. It's notorious for the most vivid and horrific hallucinations, as well as painful side effects afterward.)

Harry

Can't you just see him doing some Mission Impossible nonsense and tearing down the entire banister? Or causing a small but highly damaging fire in the kitchen?

However, it will be outdone in coming chapters. Rest assured of that.

Tom

Well. Okay, aside from the obvious. He's definitely that kid who won't just take your word for it; he has to touch the hotplate to know it burns. Has to feel the blade to know it's sharp. A lot of going stone cold silent as his father yells and his nan quietly looks for a bandage.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

Twins

I absolutely love the music of Bloodhound Gang, and I think many of their songs capture their whimsical, chaotic, silly energy. Let's go with "A Lap Dance Is So Much Better When The Stripper Is Crying."

Harry

Cavetown dominates my playlists for Harry — top picks being "Meteor Shower," "Lemon Boy," "Advice," "This is Home," and "Sweet Tooth." And most of all, "Talk to Me":

It's so dark outside tonight Build a fire warm and bright And the wind it howls and bites Bite it back with all your might

His beautiful hoarse adolescent voice fits perfectly, as well as the understated purity and warmth of his lyrics.

Tom

Perhaps I'll hold on to the top song -- as it will surface in the penultimate chapter. :D

I'm also very fond of listening to "Icicles" by The Scary Jokes to get in the LS!Tom mindset. Every lyric fits, particularly:

Icicles don't soften when they die They sharpen into sabers, and they stab you in the eye

The tone from light-hearted and self-confident, to freaking out like a teenage girl - it's perfect.

19. Vices/bad habits

Twins

Smoking cigarettes, making bombs, dealing drugs. Probably watch a lot of porn (not together; or at least I hope not).

Harry

He is quite saintly. He often distracts himself from his problems by exhausting himself physically, so perhaps that.

The porn is getting a bit out of hand for him too, though.

Tom

He not only hyper-fixates on the person he loves, but also, on the many people he hates. Like, Cedric has clearly been living in his head rent free lol.

24. Most annoying habit

Twins

I can just hear them smacking their food. No manners, these two.

Harry

I think, if you asked his parents or friends, it would be his inexplicable mood swings.

But readers spend a lot of time in his head, so I think it seems a lot more understandable from that angle, lol.

Tom

He requires you to clarify yourself, literally, if he takes issue with anything you've said or otherwise wants you to reconsider.

It's probably not always purposeful; I do think he can struggle with subtext. Sometimes it is purposeful, and he's being difficult on purpose. Perhaps it's a lingering habit from childhood, where he usually could not pick up on subtext at all.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

Twins

Hey, they have no recollection of tying Ron to that lamppost during the winter storm. He probably did that himself, the little squealer.

Harry

He has—with above-average success—ignored many memories relating to his gay attraction LMAO.

When he says (I think in Ch. 4?) that he's quite sure he isn't gay, let me be cleary: he is eyeball deep in denial.

He does know he's gay by that point. He knew it for years. He's just masterful at repressing that little voice inside his head.

Tom

His memory is extremely sharp, '99th percentile' sort of sharp. But I still think he manages to block out quite a bit of ages 10-13 alsjdlfkj 💀

I think he can remember it all if he wants, but he does have some very selective blockers covering up to months of time: portions of his trial, his nan and aunties crying, several of the mandatory therapy sessions he went to, the works.

Most of all, I think he really blocks out any memory of Harry during this time, to the extent he can barely remember him being at the trial at all.

I would argue this is where he varies the most from canon!Voldemort. For me, it's not the limitless twinkiness, nor even the capacity for romantic obsession, that makes LS!Tom fundamentally different from Voldemort. It is his ability to compartmentalize, and move on.

If anyone made it to the end of this, I love you - simple as that.

#lover’s spit #ask game

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witchersmistress · 1 year

Text

Heads You Lose

Hello my darlings!! here is part two to Tails you win. https://www.tumblr.com/witchersmistress/716840196299276288/tails-you-win?source=share

Ive linked part 1 for those who have missed it or havent read it.

Warning: Blood, violence, death and gun shot wounds.

Word count: 9.8k

my usual warning, you do not have my permission to copy or use my work in anyway, if you do ill haunt you for the rest of your days!!

Propbably gramatical errors and typos but i type to fast for my own good lol

Name pronounciatuion for the FMC : her given name is Saorise, Sheer-sha, in Irish-Gaelic means freedom

Her nickname, gifted to her at a young age by Syverson: Louhi, Lo-hee, Finnish origin, she is the goddess of Death and Disease.

“People like you and me don’t get to love…”

Those are the words that play on repeat inside my head as I stagger to my feet, blood seeping from the bullet wound just below my right shoulder and mixing with the drying blood already covering my body. I don’t feel the pain from it. On the contrary, I’m numb to everything bar Saoirse’s words. People like you and me…

Don’t get to love…

Don’t. Get. To. Love…

She’s right in a way, but not entirely. It’s true that the likes of us don’t get to love without fear. When you mix with the people we do, you gain enemies. Even the friends you think you have can turn against you on a penny if the price is right. Look at the King - he was ‘friends’ with Carter, but he took the opportunity to take him out the moment it was offered.

I took out my boss without a second thought.

Granted it was to protect the woman I love from her very own dad, but she doesn’t know that, and I can’t tell her.

Not yet, anyway. But one thing I do know with absolute certainty is that I do get to love. And I never thought that was possible for me. Yeah, it’s dangerous to love when it can be held against you, but it doesn’t make it any less true. If I know anything about myself, it’s this: I won’t give up on our love. I refuse to, because what the fuck kind of man would I be to turn my back on something so fundamental to my very existence? A fucking pussy, that’s what, and if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a pussy.

I won’t give up on our love. Not now, not ever.

Lifting my head, I meet Saoirse’s hard stare with that promise burning in my veins. But right now, no matter what I say, I know it won’t make a difference. Saoirse might love me, but Louhi has to make a stand. We both know that. Shooting me was her only choice given the circumstances. Closing herself off, shutting down, was her only option. I don’t fight it, I can’t fight it, but most importantly, I won’t. “Get. Out!” she snarls, the slightest flicker of regret in her eyes the only sign that beneath the pain, betrayal and disappointment, she still cares for me.

That Saoirse is still there inside of Louhi, who stands before me now. “I said, get the fuck out!” I ignore Rodriguez’s laugh. I ignore the King’s smirk. I ignore Dom asking Saoirse to reconsider. Instead, I lower my head in acquiesce. I raise my hand and place it over my heart, over the tattoo of her handprint embedded in my skin and vow to myself that I will find a way to protect her from afar, no matter what. With one last look at Saoirse that I hope conveys all the love and affection I feel for her, I twist on my feet and stagger towards the exit, my gaze falling to Dom as I reach the door.

“Take care of her,” I bite out through gritted teeth, fighting the darkness that’s threatening to drag me under. He nods. “You can count on me, Sy.”

*Hours later*

“Fuck me sideways!” Connall exclaims as I blink back the heavy fog of sleep and try to get my bearings. “Where am I?” I ask, groaning as I try to sit up. Bright white light pricks my eyes like a bullet straight to my brain, and I lift my hand to my head, feeling my scalp where Derby whacked me, hissing when I feel the tender skin and the stitches there.

“Joey’s place. He’s fixed you up. Got you on a drip as soon as we arrived and gave you a couple pints of blood. There was a moment I thought we’d lose you.” “I’m hard to lose,” I reply, giving him a weak smile. “But man, do I feel like shit.” “You look like shit too,” Joey says, stepping into his makeshift operating theater and giving me a toothy grin, antiseptic and the scent of car oil following him into the room. The amount of times I’ve been in the back of his garage getting fixed up is crazy, though to be fair, he keeps this room spotless. I mean, I haven’t died of my injuries or a nasty infection yet. That’s got to count for something, right? Thank god for old ranger buddies. “Thanks, old man,” I reply, easing myself upright on the gurney. It creaks under my weight, and I feel every single bit of pain now that the adrenaline has worn off.

Damn, I could up chuck. Swallowing back the queasiness, I wait for the room to stop spinning. “What’s the damage?” Connall asks, frowning as he stares at me. I have a vague recollection of calling him for help, but other than that I remember nothing after stepping outside of the club. He’s a good man, one I can count on.

The fucking best. “Couple broken ribs, lots of bruising,” Joey says, drawing some clear liquid from a vial into a needle. He pulls it free, presses the plunger to get rid of any air bubbles, then stabs me in the bicep with it, dispensing the liquid. “I fucking hope that’s painkillers,” I say, trying to laugh but failing. He nods, pulling the needle free before throwing it in the medical waste bin. “I got you, pal.” “What else?” Connall urges impatiently.

“The gash to his head was pretty fucking deep. I’ve sewn it up but you’ll need to keep an eye on him over the next few days. He was concussed pretty badly, and there’s always a danger of bleeding into the skull or swelling on the brain, but I think we’re good where that’s concerned.”

Connall swipes a hand through his hair. “You think?” “Well, short of getting Sy into the hospital for a CT scan, I can’t say any better than that.”

“No hospitals,” I say firmly. “Don’t need the law on my ass for offing Carter-fucking-Davidson.”

“You what?!” Connall exclaims, looking from me to Joey. “Did you know about this?” “First I’ve heard,” Joey says, casting a look my way. He knows I had my suspicions about Carter and his relationship with the King, so I imagine he’s putting two and two together and coming up with a pretty good assumption about what went down. “Jesus fuck, Syverson! What the hell happened last night?” “Last night?” I have a question. “How long have I been out?” “Ten hours, but stop avoiding the fucking question. Spill. I need to know so that I can give the family a head’s up. If a war is coming, they’ll want to back you.” “There’ll be no war. We’re leaving.”

“You and Louhi?” Joey asks, even though I’m pretty fucking sure it’s a trick question given she ain’t here and he’s not fucking stupid. “No.” I shake my head, ignoring the pain in my chest that isn’t coming from my bullet wound, but is most definitely coming from my heart. I look at Connall. “When I said we, I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.” “Me? Go where, exactly? And what about Louhi?” “Saoirse was the one who shot me,” I explained, leaning my head back against the gurney. Joey whistles and Connall’s mouth drops open in shock. “Wait, back the fuck up a minute,” he says scraping a hand over his face. “You killed Carter Davidson and Louhi shot you for it?”

“Pretty much,” I replied.

“But she’s in love with you,” he counters.

“He’s her dad, Connall.”

“And clearly a prick given you killed him. You don’t need to tell me what he’s done for me to know you’d only ever off your boss because he’s done something unforgivable. So, I’ll ask again. Why would Louhi shoot you when we all know that girl is head over heels in love with you?”

I heave out a sigh. “I wish I could say that was still true.” “Are you still in love with her?” Joey asks me pointedly.

“Yes.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! She shot you, Logan. Are you gone in the head?” Connall yells, shaking his head in frustration. “You know what, don’t fucking answer that.” “So you’re running?” Joey asks, moving the conversation along. “It’s complicated.” “So UN-complicate it for us because as much as I like Louhi, I don’t like the fact she nearly killed you and you’re leaving like a beat-down dog.” “Number fucking one, I’m not a beat-down dog!

Number fucking two, if she wanted me dead, I’d be dead. We were five feet apart, there is no way she would’ve missed from that distance. No fucking way,” I say, pointing to my bandaged shoulder. “He’s right. Even if she wasn’t a trained markswoman, which I understand that she is, there’d be no missing. So do you want to tell us why you killed Carter?” Joey asks. “Because the cunt was going to use her to pay off his debts to the King.” “The fuck you say?!” Connall yells. “You heard me. Carter got into a lot of trouble fucking his way around the escorts at The Crib Club, not to mention racking up a substantial gambling debt. I found out about his plans and made the King a better offer.”

Drawing in a deep breath to fend off the queasiness, I continue, “I would kill Carter if he backed the fuck off from Saoirse. He agreed, providing I stay quiet about his involvement, and he could remain a silent partner in the club.”

“The conniving bastard. Why didn’t you just kill the cunt as well?” Connall asks. “Because, as you well know, he’s powerful. Much more powerful than me on my jack jones and far more powerful than one woman with a dead dad. She needs him… For now.” “And you’re okay with that?” Joey asks this time. “Of course I’m not, but equally she’s backed into a corner. The King has a forty-eight percent share in the club, he has a big army behind him and lots of fucking connections.

She can’t go up against him. This way she keeps his protection and a share in the club whilst she establishes herself, and we find a way out of this mess.” “And you believe he won’t go back on his word the minute you're gone, and take her for himself?” “I know he won’t. Saoirse shooting me proved she’s tough enough to run the club. Besides, the King doesn’t want a woman who’ll fucking shoot him when he tries to raise a hand to her. Saoirse is too much of a handful, and one he ain’t willing to mess with, thank fuck.”

“So let me get this straight,” Connall tries to rationalize, pacing up and down as he gets all the information straight in his head. “Carter was in debt so he goes to the King for a loan, the payment of which is his own fucking daughter and a share in the club.” “Yes,” I say, the pain in my head, shoulder and ribs easing a little now the medication is doing its job. Doesn’t stop the ache in my heart though, or the constant feeling of nausea when I’m reminded of how Saoirse had looked at me as though I’d broken her heart as surely as her banishing me had broken mine. She had to do it, I don’t fucking blame her for it, but it still fucking hurts.

“You find out and cut another deal with the King,” Connall continues, “You kill Carter and the King backs off from Louhi, acting as what, a silent partner in the club?” “Precisely, he’s also got connections with some of the best clubs in the world. He can bring in the fighters. She’s smart, she’ll grow the business, and won’t throw it down the drain alongside whisky and stripper cum like her dad did.” Connall raises his brow at that. We both know Carter wasn’t the type of man who cared about a woman’s pleasure over his own. “Turn of phrase,” I mumble.

“So the King gets to sit back and reap the benefits whilst you take the blame for killing Carter, am I close?” “I don’t know about that part. That all depends on what happens now, but I’m not sticking around to find out whether Saoirse grasses on me. Though I wouldn’t fucking blame her if she did.” “She won’t,” Joey says, sounding far more certain than I feel. “And you know how?” Connall asks. “As you well know, there are rules we all live by, unspoken ones, but ones we all obey. No fucking police. However Louhi chooses to deal with this is up to her, but that girl has grown up in this life and she won’t be pulling the police in unless they’re bent and she’s using them to cover her back.”

“Fair point,” Connall concedes, leaning back against the counter as he regards me. “And your big plan is to slope off with your tail between your legs, heart fucking broken, whilst there are a fuck load of snakes and sharks out there who are more than willing to take a bite out of your woman?”

“I’m not sloping off,” I growl, “And I’m not willing to let anyone do any such thing. I trust Dom to keep an eye on her, and I believe the King will have her back whilst it suits him. Right now keeping her safe, and more importantly the business safe, is in his best interests.”

“So what’s the plan, and why do you want me tagging along for the ride?” Connall asks. “For your charm and wit, of course,” I reply, deadly fucking serious. He laughs. I don’t. “Okay spill.” “I’m gonna find her an army of the best men and women money, charm and connections can buy, and you’re going to help me.” “Well, when you put it like that, how can a man say no?” Connalls replies, grinning. “And what do you need me to do?” Joey asks. “Keep your ear to the ground and let me know the second you hear anything about the King that should concern me. Better still, ingratiate yourself with Louhi. Get in on the business. She’ll need someone to fix up her men after they’ve been in the cage. Make sure that man is you.” Joey nods.

“You got it.” “So where to go first?” Connall asks me as my eyes begin to drift shut. “Italy. Romeo Ricci, remember that crazy bastard, he has some contacts out there I’d like to explore…” “Italy it is,” Connall replies, with a shake of his head as exhaustion and a heavy dose of painkiller pull me under.

*2 years later*

Sy’s POV

It’s been almost two years since I left. Two long motherfucking years where I’ve watched over Saoirse from afar. My Princess. My woman. My heart. She turns twenty in a week. And I’m back to tell her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me fucking God.

I owe her an explanation, my apologies and my love. But more than that, I owe her my life. Saoirse isn’t a crap shot, and no one misses major organs when they’re firing a bullet from a few feet away without purposefully intending to miss. She shot me that night in the cage, banishing me from her life and sending out a message to the criminal underworld. No one fucks with Louhi. Not even the ones she loves. It was her saving grace, because when she pulled the trigger she proved herself a Davidson more than worthy of standing in Carter’s shoes, and she’s been proving herself ever since, building a business and an army that she can be proud of. Unofficially she’s been running the club from the moment Carter was murdered by yours truly, officially just a few short weeks since his will was read and her name replaced his as the owner of the club. Either way, she’s gained respect and a reputation.

According to Dom, who’s been my inside man this whole time, despite the King still having involvement in the club, he’s backed off and allowed her to make a name for herself whilst he reaped the benefits. It won’t be long before she buys him out, or better yet kills the cunt, but all in good time. For now, she’s running the most lucrative fight club in all of Europe. Two months after the refurbishment, the old club mysteriously burnt to the ground and she moved premises to a larger, more discrete site where the club has also become more commonly known as Louhi’s Fight Club. As it should be. She’s a badass, and I’m so fucking proud of her. Two weeks ago, Dom called me to let me know that Carter’s will had finally been read, after his funeral took place a couple weeks before that.

A funeral that, by all accounts, was attended by every fucking lowlife criminal you could think of. None of them were there for Carter, and even less to pay their respects to Saoirse. Like vultures around a rotting carcass, they wanted to see what they could get out of the situation because up until three months ago, Carter was deemed a missing person. And a missing person is still a threat, but a dead man? Not so much. What they hadn’t counted on was the woman they met at the funeral. A woman who, according to Dom, single-handedly laid out three men and shot a fourth in the kneecap for even trying to disrespect her. They also hadn’t counted on the soldiers she’s acquired or the loyalty of mercenaries with a big enough reputation to scare even the most hardened criminal off. Like I said, she’s been building an army. It’s also common knowledge that the remains of Carter’s skull was found in a shallow grave in Hampstead Heath, and that he was identified by his teeth.

It’s not common knowledge that the police were tipped-off with where to find Carter’s remains, or the fact that the rest of his body was fed to pigs who have long since been butchered too. Both calculated decisions that were made by Saoirse herself. Of course, speculation had been rife in the criminal underworld, and according to Dom, Saoirse endured weeks of police interrogations, interviews and accusations. But she never wavered from her story, and she never once ratted me out. Carter’s cause of death was deemed suspicious, but given there was very little left of Carter’s body and no other evidence to be found given the old club is now nothing but a pile of ash, the case ran cold.

Though I’m more than fucking positive that there was a handout to the police chief and a few people higher up the chain of command to nip any further investigations in the bud. Like I said, Saoirse has come into her own. Or should I say Louhi has come into her own, because there isn’t one person now who’ll call her Saoirse. She won’t allow it. The last person who tried was beaten by her men so badly that he can’t even remember his own name, let alone hers, or so I’m told. Saoirse has well and truly shredded her skin and stepped into the role of Louhi completely. It’s a heavy burden to know that I’m part of the reason for that.

That my actions, my half-truths and my lies to keep her safe, forced her into a persona she couldn’t escape from. Honestly, I’m not certain she would even want to now. But I’m not back to change her in any way, I’m back because I can’t stay away a moment longer. There’s so much I need to fix and I’m not self-centred enough to believe I’ll be successful, but I’ve got to fucking try. I blow out a steady breath, swiping at the mist covering the mirror from the shower I’ve just taken, and stare at my reflection. I look much the same as I did when I left.

I’m still a bulky fucker, probably bigger than I was given I’ve spent a lot of my time training in gyms around the world, but it didn’t matter where I was, there was no sunshine without her. My happiness wasn’t a focus, her safety was, still is. I haven’t been complacent in my time away. I’ve made alliances, acquaintances and friends with powerful men and women. And I’ve done it all for Saoirse, for Louhi. I’ve been standing by her side this whole fucking time we’ve been apart. I never stopped working to build her army. Never stopped loving her. Never stopped dreaming about her every fucking night, and thinking about her every minute of every day. I’m surprised my dick hasn’t dropped off from the amount of times I’ve abused it whilst thinking of her.

That night in her bedroom where she’d spread herself for me and finger-fucked herself so perfectly has been on repeat in my head for the last two years. Even now, after all this time, thoughts of her make me hard. That won’t ever change. Scraping a hand over my face, I mentally psych myself up, because if I was nervous about telling Saoirse about my feelings back in my tattoo shop two years ago, that’s nothing to how I’m feeling now. I ain’t shitting a brick. I’m shitting a goddamn mountain. Dom has made it perfectly clear that she’s not the same person I left behind, but then again neither am I. Truth be known, being away has changed me. I was never a spiritual man, and I won’t pretend that I am now, but a few months back I accompanied Connall on a trip to Ireland to visit his family and met a lad who has this uncanny ability to uncover a man’s secrets and capitalize on them. The little fucker got me talking about personal shit that I would never share with anyone. I can’t even blame my loose mouth on the pints of Guinness I knocked back, given I only had two. Pretty sure he pulled some voodoo shit on me. All I know is if anyone has the heart of a criminal, the soul of a thief and the mind of a genius, it’s Arden Dálaigh, and I have no doubts we’ll meet again when he’s grown a few more chest hairs. But that’s a concern for another day.

With a shake of my head, my gaze falls to Saoirse’s handprint tattooed on my chest, the outline of which is now completely filled with black ink. From there my eyes track across to the puckered scar that sits just beneath my right collar bone where Saoirse shot me. Both are a prominent reminder of the woman I love, and I will wear them with pride until the day I fucking die. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Connall asks, the second I slide into the passenger seat beside him. I gave him a look. “Not in the fucking slightest, but it’s time.” “She might actually kill you this time.” “She might, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I reply, drumming my fingers against my knee in agitation.

The fucker of course notices. He’s been a good friend to me and I owe him so much more than I could ever repay. Connall has been my right-hand man through all of my travels around the world. “Listen, mate, I love you, you know that right?” I laugh. “If you’re about to tell me to run away with you—”

“We’ve been there, done that already,” he cuts in with a smirk, breaking sharply and swearing at a kid that suddenly dashes out into the road in front of us. She slams her fist against the bonnet, before giving us the middle finger. Beneath her hood I can see bright blue hair and a scowl that would rival the many Saoirse has given me in the past. “Watch where you’re going, asswipe!” she yells, then pelts it across the street chucking a spray can at the car for good measure.

“The little fucker!” Connall exclaims as we both watch her leg it down the street and disappear down an alleyway a little further up. “That one’s gonna cause someone a heap of shit in a few years.” “Looks like she’s already causing a heap of shit,” I remark, as Connall puts the car in drive and moves on. We both laugh, the tension easing a little. Ten minutes later Connall pulls up outside a gated industrial estate, manned by a security guard who looks very familiar.

Mark.

The last time I saw him, he was in the crowd at the club whilst I was getting the shit kicked out of me by Derby. Connall gives me a look. “Is he gonna give us trouble?” “I guess you’d better roll your window down so we can find out.”

Mark steps out of the little hut he’s sitting in and strolls over to the car, ducking down to look through the now open window. It takes him less than a second to lock eyes with me. “Well, fuck! Dom said you were back, but I didn’t believe it. Syverson, as I live and breathe. How are you, mate?” Not quite the reception I was expecting, but okay. I grin. “I’m good, you?” “Head of security here these days,” he says with a wink, tapping on the walkie-talkie attached to his chest. “That uniform looks good on you,” Connall says, jerking his chin towards Mark’s outfit. He looks like a cross between a copper and a bouncer in his deep blue shirt and trousers.

The fact he’s got a handgun strapped to his hip and a knife slotted next to it just adds to the whole don’t fuck with me vibe he’s got going on. “Louhi likes her soldiers dressing smart. Things have changed around here since…” His voice trails off and neither of us fill in the silence. Mark was at the club the night I fought Derby, but he wasn’t there when I killed Carter. I found out later he was dragging a fuming Hudson Freed home.

Though he couldn’t keep him away according to Dom, who’s been my inside man this whole time. Hudson came back an hour after I left and is as deep in this pile of shit as the rest of us in attendance that night. Honestly, I expected to hear that Saoirse and him had got together after I’d gone, but to my surprise they’re still just friends and have remained close. I guess I owe him a thank you for looking out for my girl too, even if it pisses me off that he got to spend time with her and I didn’t. I should be grateful, I am grateful, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to beat the shit out of him for having her time and attention though.

Never thought I’d be a jealous man, but here we are. “Sy is here to see Louhi. Is that gonna be a problem?” Connall asks, before I’m able to even clear my head enough to do the same. For a beat Mark looks between us, his expression serious. We were friends once, and the thought of having to knock the fucker out so I can get inside the gates doesn’t sit well with me, but I’ll do it if I have to. “A few weeks back I would’ve seen you on your way,” he admits with a wry grin. “And today?” I ask, my stomach churning at the thought that just on the other side of this gate is the woman I love. “Today you’re allowed in.” Connall grins. “Excellent, want to get the gate open then?”

Mark’s smile drops. “Sorry, Connall. Sy goes in alone. Orders of the Boss.” Connall looks affronted, glancing at me. “Why is she pissed at me? I ain’t done nothing wrong. Surely, she has missed my Irish charm?” I laugh, and Mark grins. “Couldn’t tell you. All I’ve been told is if Logan turns up he comes in alone.” “Not a problem,” I say, unclipping my seat belt. “Follow me then,” Mark replies, bumping fists with a put-out Connall, before striding back to the gate. “Seriously, Sy, are you sure you wanna do this? We both know that Louhi has quite the reputation these days.” “I’m sure. Go home. I’ll call you later.” Connall nods, blowing out a breath.

“Well, don’t let me tell you I told you so when you end up in the coroner's office with a bullet in your brain.” “Pretty sure I’ll be incapable of listening or responding at that point,” I say with a laugh, before jumping out of the car and striding through the open gate.

Two minutes later I’m pushing open the door into the warehouse Mark pointed me towards, and stepping into a cornered off wire cage with wrap around curtains and a locked door opposite. In the corner of the space is a table and a sign that says:

Remove all weapons or entry will be denied.

I grin. Saoirse is way smarter than her father. Security is clearly a priority, as it should be. Glancing around the space, my attention is caught by a tiny red light flashing in the top right hand corner of the cage. I stare up at the camera and wait, a smile pulling up my lips. “Weapons on the table,” a familiar female voice barks through the intercom. It’s been a long time since I heard her voice and for a moment I’m taken aback. Struck fucking dumb, actually, though my dick doesn’t seem to have the same problem. It jerks at her voice, standing to fucking attention. “Jesus fuck,” I mutter. “Weapons on the table, Syverson. You’ll get them back when you leave.”

Syverson. Call me a fool, call me whatever the fuck you like, but the sheer fact she’s addressing me by my real name is a good fucking sign. I hear the sass buried deep beneath the coolness, and it fires my fucking blood like nothing else. Maybe there’s hope. “I have no weapons. I come in peace,” I reply, grinning, unable to help myself.

For long moments there’s just silence, then the intercom makes a clicking noise and her voice follows shortly after. “Prove it. Strip.” “Sure thing, Princess,” I reply without hesitation, more than happy to oblige. I hear the sound of the intercom clicking once more and wait, but there’s nothing but static. Maybe it’s too early to be calling her Princess again so I follow my reply up with a statement that I hope she takes as truthfully as it’s meant. “Ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Her scoff comes through the intercom clear as fuck then. “Just get on with it.” I stare up at the camera and nod. If she wants me naked, then I’ll get naked.

She can see how my cock is growing for her too. I don’t fucking care. She can take her fill. Removing my jacket and boots first, I throw the former onto the table and kick the latter across the concrete floor. There isn’t one moment when my gaze isn’t focussed on the camera, and I’m hoping she can feel the intensity of my stare, because I sure as fuck can feel hers. Next, my t-shirt, jeans and socks come off and I stand in my boxers with a raging hard on that would rival any of those other fuckers that she might’ve invited into her bed. I sure hope I get the chance to erase any bastard cock that has had the pleasure of her attention these past couple years. It fucking kills

I know that someone else has taken what was always supposed to be mine, but I can’t blame her for it. I won’t do that. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking gut me though, or that I won’t off the fucker who took it from me. Just saying. “Do you need me to remove my boxers too, because you know I will, Princess,” I say unabashedly. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured our reunion, but I get the psychology behind it. She wants to show me who’s boss, what she doesn’t realize is that I never wanted to be hers.

Every action I took came from a place of love, and the need to protect her. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just glad to see me?” a familiar male voice says, followed by a burst of laughter that has my cock deflating quicker than you can say gonorrhea. Across the other side of the space the curtain surrounding the cage is pulled back and Dom is smiling at me. “Fucking hell, Syverson, I can see that cock of yours is still a lethal weapon.” I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “You prick!”

“Nope, you’re definitely the prick.”

“Good to see you, Dom,” I reply, my smile fading as I give him a look that I hope he interprets as gratefulness. Without him keeping an eye on Saoirse, and letting me know how she’s been doing, I would’ve been even more of a fucking mess. “Get dressed. Louie's waiting for you in her office,” he gives me a knowing look, then punches a number into a keypad on his side of the cage and pulls the door open. He waits for me to put my clothes back on, and with one last glance at the camera, I follow Dom into the lioness’s den.

Saoirse’s POV

I stare at the screen, at the man who stole my heart and made me an orphan. He looks the same as I remember and different in a way that’s difficult to pinpoint. There are lines around his eyes, and a tightness around his mouth that I have the sudden urge to soothe. He’s more muscular, if that’s even possible. His hair is a little longer on top and he’s clean shaven. If I weren’t already sitting down, I’d need to.

There’s no doubt that he’s grown even more handsome, and despite my head telling me not to get drawn in, my foolish heart is beating wildly. Don’t even ask me about my pussy because she’s already forgiven him and is about ready to throw herself at his cock and beg for oblivion. “Fuck!” I swear, my gaze roving over every inch of his face as he stares up at the camera.

This was a bad fucking idea. I can’t be weak for this man, I can’t. Flicking my gaze to my phone, I consider calling Mark to come get his arse and chuck him out, but I hesitate. My stomach churns with anxiety, and I grab my packet of cigarettes from the table, lighting one and dragging in a deep lungful. The tip sizzles, and when I blow out a stream of blue-grey smoke, some of the anxiety lifts. Narrowing my eyes at him I make a decision, then lean back in my chair and press the intercom button. “Weapons on the table,” I say, keeping my voice steady, cold. He stiffens, his muscles locking tight as he blinks back up at the camera. He wasn’t expecting to hear my voice. Good, let him feel as fucked in the head as I do. I take another drag of my cigarette, enjoying the power shift as he chews on his lip. There’s no doubt that he’s nervous. Well that makes two of us.

“Weapons on the table, Syverson. You’ll get them back when you leave.” I can’t help but grin at the surprise in his eyes when I call him by his real name. Before, when I used to call him Syverson, it was to wind him up, to get a rise out of him. Now, I just want to remind him that I can call him whatever the fuck I want and he can’t do a damn thing about it. It takes him a beat to reply, but when he does he gives me a grin that almost makes me forget what he did. Almost. “I have no weapons. I come in peace,” he says. I take another pull of my cigarette.

There’s nothing about his body language that tells me he’s being anything other than truthful, and despite everything, I believe he isn’t carrying. Not that it would matter if he was, because my soldiers would have him disarmed and on his knees with a gun cocked at his head before he could even blink. Syverson might be the best fighter in the cage, but he’s no match for the combined force of the mercenaries I’ve gathered over the two years since he’s been gone. Every single one of them walked into the club as a fighter and stayed as my soldier, and I took full advantage of the universe bringing them to me.

We eyeball each other through the screen, and deciding that he needs to be knocked down a peg, or five thousand, I test his willingness to follow my orders because there is no way I’ll even entertain talking to him if he thinks he can just waltz back in here and pick up where we left off. I don’t care how fucking sexy he is, or how much he still makes my legs go weak and my pussy wet. “Prove it. Strip,” I demand, smirking as I lean back in my chair and wait. I don’t have to wait for long. “Sure thing, Princess,” he replies then begins to remove his clothes. I press down on the intercom about ready to tell him to fuck off for calling me Princess, but then he says something else that stills my heart and immediately puts me back in the headspace of the girl who was utterly in love with him. “Ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” I blink at the screen, at his sincerity. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Swallowing hard and pushing those feelings deep down, I scoff, then say; “Just get on with it.”

Then I click off the intercom so that I don’t do something fucking stupid like ask him to do everything I’ve dreamed of in the privacy of my bedroom these past couple years since he’s been gone. Dragging in another hit of my cigarette, I watch him undress, my mouth dropping open as I stare at the screen, transfixed. He strips right down to his boxers and there’s no denying that his almost naked form is as stunningly attractive as it ever was, but it isn’t his defined muscles or his broad shoulders

and strong thighs that leave me breathless. It isn’t even the intimidating size of his erection. It’s my handprint that’s completely filled in and resting over his heart in a permanent tattoo that sucks all the oxygen from the room and has my own heart pounding so loud that I barely hear my phone ringing. “Shit! Fuck!” I exclaim, picking it up. “What?” I snap into the mouthpiece. “He’s about to take his fucking pants off. Are you still convinced he’s packing?” Dom asks me, undeniable laughter in his voice. He’s certainly packing, I think, my gaze trailing to his boxers and the bulge there.

“Bring him to me,” I ordered. “Sure thing… And boss?” “Yes?” “He’s a good guy.” I snort. “Tell that to Carter.” By the time Dom knocks on my door five minutes later, I’ve shrugged off the girl who was in love with Syverson and firmly stepped into the role of Louhi. I promised myself I would listen to him, and I will, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to take him back no matter what he has to say. “Come in,” I called out, arms folded across my chest in defense mode that I quickly uncrossed because letting him know I’m feeling out of sorts by his sudden appearance today isn’t what Louhi would do. She is strong, unfazed by anyone, and it’s her grit I funnel as Dom opens the door and Syverson steps past him into my office.

I glance at Syverson quickly, willing my heart to stop racing and ignoring the very real need to just go to him, then give a tight smile to Dom. “Need me to stay?” he asks. “No. Get home to Nancy. I’ll see you back here tomorrow night for Ziggy’s fight.” “Sure thing.” He nods once, flicks his gaze to the back of Syverson’s head and smirks, shutting the door behind him. “I should shoot you dead now,” I state, my fingers running over the Glock resting on my desk, internally wincing at the opposing emotions fucking with my head. I just want to go to him, wrap my arms around him, but I can’t. I fucking can’t. “I wouldn’t stop you,” he replies evenly. “Do you have a death wish?” I ask, genuinely interested, and trying hard to focus on being Louhi and not the girl who’s still in love with him. He holds his hands out, palms up. “The only wish I have is for the chance to talk. That’s it. That’s all.” We stare at each other for long moments, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t want to throw caution to the wind and forgive him instantly for everything. But I can’t do that.

I won’t do that. “Drink?” I ask instead, if only because I need something to do with my hands. Without waiting for him to reply, I push back from the table and stride over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room, pouring us both a three-fingered shot of bourbon. I take my time, letting him get his fill of my fitted shirt, tight leather skirt, bare legs, and stiletto ankle boots. I know for a fact my knee-length skirt hugs my arse, and the slit at the back gives glimpses of my thighs. He’s not the only one who’s kept themselves fit these past couple years. I spar three times a week with Dom and Mark and train with Cleveland, one of the mercenaries, twice a week too. I keep up with pole dancing as much as I can with Nancy and Matty as well. Exercise has helped to keep my mind focused, sharp. What no one knows is that on my nights off I indulge in copious amounts of junk food to ease the pain in my chest whilst sitting in my threadbare pyjamas, feeling lonely as fuck. There has to be balance, right? With his eyes on me, I grab the drinks and return to my seat, sliding one across the table to him. “Sit.” Syverson nods, watching me carefully as he pulls out the chair and takes a seat opposite me. I will my cheeks not to flush at the intense way he stares at me,but rather than looking away I stare right back, not willing to let him see how affected I am by him. Taking a sip of the bourbon, I wait.

“Saoirse…” Syverson begins, his Texan accent causing a sharp pang in my chest, “Louhi,” I retort firmly. “Louhi,” he corrects, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on the table, completely ignoring the glass of bourbon. My gaze trails over his thick fingers and the veins protruding on the back of his hands before I slowly lift my eyes to meet his. I’m pretty sure he was just checking out my tits too. Can’t say I blame him, they’ve filled out some since he left. I guess I’m what you call a late bloomer. “You’ve got five minutes. Speak,” I demand, so fucking grateful my voice remains steady. “You look good,” he remarks, the sound of lust in his voice like a wet dream come true. There’s no denying the need in his eyes and for a second I allow myself to bask in it. To let his words wash over me like a sweet caress. Then I pull my shit together.

“If you’re just here to compliment me on my looks then you can get your arse up out of that chair and fuck right off. I don’t need your compliments, Syverson. I get enough of them as it is.” His eyes flash with possession, and a whole dose of jealousy, but he shuts both down and nods, clearing his throat. “I’m sure you do.” We fall silent again, and I pick up another cigarette, lighting it. He looks surprised but instead of questioning why I’ve taken up smoking, he nods towards the cigarette packet. “May I?” “You may,” I say, inwardly smiling at the way he seems to shift uncomfortably in his seat. I wonder if he still has a boner. The sheer fact he got hard because he knew I was watching him strip makes me feel all kinds of ways.

Mostly horny, but also wanted, desired. Yeah, I’ve had plenty men want to fuck me, but the way Syverson is looking at me now, it’s different. It’s more. As he leans forward and reaches across the table, his loose fitting, v-neck shirt gapes a little, revealing the top of the handprint tattoo. Now it’s me who’s staring as I remember the day he took me to his tattoo shop and stole my breath with his actions and his promises.

“I like what you’ve done with the club,” he interrupts my reminiscing. I rip my gaze upwards and watch him place a cigarette between his lips before lighting it.

“You’ve been busy building quite an empire since I’ve been gone.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No. I never doubted you.”

Blue-grey smoke curls up out of his mouth as he speaks and I can’t help but notice the note of pride in his voice. I don’t need a man’s validation, but surprisingly getting this recognition from Syverson means more to me than it probably should. “Yeah, you’re right. I have been building an empire since I banished you,” I reply, forcing all those warm feelings I have no business entertaining deep into the pit of my stomach. Anger is by far a safer emotion right now, and I’m clinging onto it with everything I have. “I’ll rephrase that. You’ve been building quite an empire since you banished me.” There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes that warms a part of me that turned cold a long time ago, and it’s that feeling and not his flirty smile that has me reacting the way I do.

I. Can’t. Let. Him. In.

I Can’t.

“Get out!” I snap. Stubbing out my cigarette, I push up from my desk and stride towards the door. “Now!” He twists in his seat, frowning as he watches me yank open the door . “What?” “I said, get the fuck out!” My voice is low, dripping with fury. “Woah, Louhi,�� he retorts, stubbing his own cigarette into the ashtray before getting to his feet.

“Calm down darlin.”

“Calm down? Calm-fucking-down! No. You don’t get to patronize me.”

“I wasn’t! Shit! Fuck, that’s not what I was doing!”

I bark out a laugh, feeling a lot less Louhi and way more Saoirse than I have in a very long time. Saoirse is the one who flies off the handle at the drop of a hat, who’s emotional. Louhi is nothing like that and a large part of me resents that he still has the ability to pull her out of me.

“Did you honestly think you could waltz in here, flash me a smile, give me flirty fuck-me eyes and think I would fall at your feet like some lovesick teenager?”

“Well, I—” he smiles again in that infuriating way that makes my heart squeeze. “Don’t you dare!”

I hiss, slamming the door shut in anger instead of slamming my fist into his cocky face. “Don’t make this into a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, let me start again,” he begins, scraping a hand over his face.

“Fuck, I knew I’d balls this up.”

“I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not someone you can flirt with and charm, who begs for your attention. I won’t just roll over and forgive you for everything just because you’re back.”

“I don’t expect you to do any of that,” he replies earnestly as he steps towards me. “I misjudged the situation. I guess I thought—I hoped—that because you hadn’t already shot me dead that we were on better terms than we actually are. I was wrong. I apologize.”

“The only terms we’re on is me giving you a chance to shoot your shot before I decide whether to shoot you dead for good this time!” I bite back.

“That’s fair,” he replies, holding his hands aloft as he approaches me guardedly. “I’m just asking you to listen to what I have to say. Will you?”

“So now you want my obedience?” I shake my head. “Nothing’s changed there then.”

“You were never obedient,” he retorts, moving closer still. “As I recall, you did nothing but cause me shit. I’ve missed that.”

This time his smile isn’t flirty, it’s pitted with regret and the barely stitched together wounds in my chest rip open at that. He missed me. God, I missed him too. So fucking much. But I don’t admit it.

“And you were nothing but a tease and a heartbreaker!” I retort, hating the fact that I’m losing my cool so spectacularly, that somehow I’ve moved towards him instead of putting more space between us. “I’m sorry it felt that way.”

“Are you?”

“Saoirse,” he says, then slams his mouth shut when I give him a glare that ordinarily would end in someone getting kneecapped.

“Louhi,” he repeats, still stepping towards me.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did. And that girl you made an orphan? She’s gone now.”

“I understand,” he acknowledges, stopping a few inches from me.

“You don’t understand though,” I reply. “You don’t understand anything.”

“Then explain it to me. What’s going on in your head, Princess?”

I look up at him unable, or perhaps unwilling, to drag my gaze away. I don’t even pull him up for calling me Princess again because, fuck, I’ve missed him so much. I ache to step into his arms. It’s physically painful to keep this distance between us, but I have a reputation to uphold and letting him back in would ruin mine. No one knows for certain that he killed Carter, but speculation has been rife since his body, or what was left of it, was found. The fact Syverson disappeared the same night my dad did but has turned up alive and well two years later is a big fucking red flag.

Not to mention that he did actually kill my dad. It’s just as well I’ve got the police chief in my pocket, otherwise Sy would’ve been pulled in for questioning the second he stepped back in town. He knows that just as much as I do. “You lost the right to ask those kinds of questions two years ago, Syverson.”

“You’re right, I did, and it guts me to know that.” He sighs, tracing my features with his gaze. “There’s so much I need to say to you, but all I can think about right now is taking you in my arms and loving you until you understand that I’m sorry.”

“Syverson,” I warn, but he ignores me and brushes his knuckles against my cheek, and just for a moment I’m caught in his pull, in the chemistry and the attraction we’ve always shared. It’s as strong as it ever was. It’s intoxicating.

“Fuck, Louhi. Fuck,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my lips.

“Syverson,” I say, trying and failing not to lean into his hold as his palm presses against my cheek and his fingers massage the shaven hair behind my ear. I can feel myself giving in, feel my heart calling out to his whilst my brain screams at me to stop, to think, to step the fuck away from him. “We belong together, you and me,” he murmurs as I struggle internally, wanting to let him in, knowing that I shouldn’t.

He lowers his head slowly towards mine, and in the short time it takes for him to lean closer, Louhi comes back fighting. I shove at his chest, taking a step back and putting space between us. “I don’t belong to anyone, Syverson. I don’t need to be loved by you. I do just fine without that bullshit in my life!” I lie, my chest heaving as we stare at one another. “We both know that isn’t true, because this thing we have, this connection, it ain’t going away. We’re inevitable, you and me…” And he’s right. We are. A part of me, a desperately needy, lonely part that has missed him, has yearned for him, wants him to take charge and pull me into his arms and kiss me stupid. The other part sighs in relief when he backs up.

“But right now we can’t explore ourselves until you know the truth, and I’m here to give it to you.” “And what truth is that?” I ask, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand. The look in his eyes is enough to make me withdraw emotionally, locking my feelings down, hardening up. Whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to be good. “That I killed Carter not because he wanted me dead for loving you, although that’s reason enough in my book, but because he drew up a contract with the King selling you to that asshole in exchange for paying off his debts.”

Stunned doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. I’m fucking stupified, a sudden ringing in my ear drowning out every other sound. It takes me a few moments to gather my thoughts and I have to blink back my shock. “What?” I eventually choke out, the floor tipping beneath my feet as I try to make sense of what he’s just said. “That’s a fucking lie!”

“I wish it was.” Sy blows out a sharp breath, my reaction to the truth hurting him as much as the truth hurts me. “I made a new deal with the King as soon as I found out what your dad had planned. I would kill Carter and the King would back off from you, remaining a silent partner in the club. I did it so that I could give you time to build an army so that one day, when the time was right, you could take out the motherfucker yourself.”

“He was going to sell me to the King?” I ask, disbelief quickly dissolving into rage that fires my blood and makes me wish Carter was still alive so that I could drive the motherfucking knife into his back, just like Sy did that night. “Yeah, he was,” Sy confirms, giving me a look of such deep sorrow that I almost, almost stepped into his arms. Instead, I tip up my chin, straighten my spine and funnel some Louhi energy. Maybe my dad had a hand in bringing her to life, but it was always Logan who fuelled her strength. “Tell me why I should believe you?” I ask, not because I don’t believe him—the truth is, I do—but because I need a moment to gather my thoughts. To figure out what the fuck I should do now.

“You don’t have to believe me, but if you want to corroborate my story you just need to check the accounts at The Crib Club,” Sy says. “And how do you propose I do that?” “You managed to shut down the case investigating Carter’s murder. I’m sure you’ll find a way,” he says, knowingly. “Yeah,” I retort, already knowing exactly who to go to for help in that department. “Carter was a bastard, and he deserved to die,” he continues, “And what’s more, I’d do it all again to keep you safe.”

I swallow hard, trying to form the words that just won’t come, because even though I believe him, I have to know for sure he’s telling the truth. When I don’t respond, he swipes a hand through his hair then says: “The only mistake I made was not telling you everything at the time. You weren’t wrong when you said that you didn’t need a man to make decisions for you. I can see just how capable you are, have always been. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of what you’ve built and I’m truly sorry for not giving you the respect you deserved and coming to you with what I found out.” My chest swells with conflicting emotions and it takes a great deal of strength not to fucking buckle, but I stand my ground and remain calm on the surface, even though beneath it all I’m struggling to make sense of everything. I stare at him for a long long time, my throat dry, my pulse racing, my stomach churning and my heart trying its very best to punch a hole through my chest. But I have to keep my head. First I need to check out his story, and then I need to decide what I do with that information. Eventually, I swallow hard and nod.

“I appreciate you coming here and telling me.” “It’s the least you deserve.” “I have a lot to think about,” I admit. “Yeah, I imagine you do,” he acknowledges. “What are you going to do about the King?” “I don’t know yet.” “Well, when you figure that out, I’ve got your back, no strings attached,” he says, giving me a tight smile before heading towards the door and pulling it open. “Syverson!” I call out before I can stop myself, swallowing back the fucking neediness in my voice. He stills, glancing over his shoulder at me, his eyes flickering with hope.

“Yeah?” “Are you still fighting?” “Not since I fought against Derby, why?” “Next weekend I’m holding a contest at the club to celebrate my birthday. Anyone can fight.” “Is that an invitation?” “The winner gets to become one of my soldiers. Are you still a beast, Syverson?” I ask, picking up the glass of bourbon I poured for him and knocking it back in one gulp, relishing the burn. We both know that this is a test, but it’s also an olive branch. The question is, will he take it? “I’ll be here,” he replies, then steps out into the hallway and leaves.

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