#it is all vibes. all someone else’s vibes. and I’ve yet to find the right socket that lets me enjoy most of it

[readwing]

“Just vibes. Vibes. VIBES. Vibes. I’m so sick of vibes. Give me a riff, a hook, something other than this grim, colorless trudge.”

- Todd in the Shadows coming after my own fucking heart

[astrobydalia]

Spicy astro observations pt. II

This post is for +18 readers only🔞

work by astrobydalia

If you’re new to astrology you should know that Mars is sex drive but Venus rules desire and pleasure. In mythology, Venus was considered the goddess of erotic love and hedonistic desire. Venus in your chart also indicates how and what type of things you enjoy and find pleasure in, so this planet can be very telling of the type of vibe that gets you in the mood

Personally, my take on this is:

Mars = how you like the fucking to be

Venus = how you like the treatment to be

Venus+Mars = how you like sex overall

Pluto/Scorpio in the 12th house often times have shameful sexual experiences and/or sexual affairs that nobody will ever know about

Mutable Mars are the ones that tend to have a rather depraved or perverted sex drive. They're just down for almost anything

I've noticed your moon sign reaaaaally shines through in sex. Like, a lot. For example Aries moons love the "right here right now" kinda sex and tend to be really fond of bold and nonchalant advances. Gemini Moon like to switch. Love to be surprised and loves teasing/mindgames. Capricorn moons will dominate, etc

Not be stereotypical but… Aries Mars will fuck anyone anywhere anytime. Will really go from 0 to 100 literally anytime. They like to fuck around but are loyal in a relationship from what I’ve seen. Every single one I’ve met was the kinda person to be very nonchalant when discussing sex, will be very vocal about being horny, their experiences, etc

Scorpio mars 🤝 lowkey behaving like a sexual predator with the person they’re interested in 😭 I swear their behaviors can get creepy if they’re attracted to you. Someone i know with this placement was asked why she was still single and she jokingly replied “guess I haven’t found a prey yet”

Mercury in the 1st house/Mercury dominant/Gemini placements you guys seriously need to STOP smirking at me like that and making me laugh or else I won’t be responsible for what happens next

>>No but seriously people forget how universally attractive mercurial energy really is. Sexual arousal starts in the brain and these mf know how to charm and enchant and they just naturally have a very endearing energy to them. Many sex symbols and models have gemini placements (Marilyn Monroe, Naomi Campbell, Megan Fox, Jennifer Lopez...)

Taurus Moon/Mars/Venus enjoy slow and possessive sex. With them you can expect hickeys, lip biting, grabbing parts of your body...

Scorpio Venus/Mercury could have a degrading kink 🫢 specially when mixed with Virgo placements. They love filthiness of being treated like/treating their partner like a little hooker

Mars-Neptune people get sexually aroused by pain, but they usually like their partner inflicting pain to them, not necessarily inflict pain to their partner

Ive noticed Virgo Mars don't necessarily wish to dominate but they can tend to end up taking the lead in bed. They want to please and ‘do a good job’ so they often be like “don’t worry babe I got this"

Women with Lilith aspecting ASC/Sun = "the only kinda girl they see is a one-night or a wife". They felt like everyone wanted to touch them but nobody wanted to love them. Those suitors who did want to "love" them thought of the Lilith person as someone who needs "taming" through marriage or only saw them as a sexual trophy. Kinda like Cassie from Euphoria. This is why I've very commonly seen these women usually take a long time to actually marry or be in a serious relationship

I’ve said this before too but as per my observation Lilith women I’ve seen didn’t really have a dark and sexual look/personality to them at all, quite the opposite they all had very angelic vibe/appearance specially when younger. But underneath all this innocent energy there was always something about them that was blatantly seductive and desirable so people project this Lilith persona onto them. It’s almost like society corrupts them and only sees them as something fuckable

In my experience, when it comes to performance those with domicile or exalted mars tend to overpromise and underdeliver while those with debilitated mars are the opposite (underpromise and overdeliver). Take that as you will.

I'm gonna talk about Pisces for a second cause I'm so sick of all this feet nonsense 😭🤚🏼

Pisces venus,mars,moon are closed off sexually but will literally let you do anything if you make them feel like it’s safe to surrender to you. These natives always remind me of hentai girls and the ahegao face

Also, I've always thought Anastasia from fifty shades of grey is a great depiction of Pisces Venus (both in and out of the bedroom)

I’ve seen a lot of people saying Pisces could like to have sex while drunk or on drugs but they actually don’t need to. Sexual pleasure itself could actually make them feel “drunk” or out of it without being under the influence. They overall enjoy feeling out of control of themselves, drunk with desire

Pisces/Neptune/12th house influence on Mars/Venus/Pluto/5th house/8th house, Mars/Pluto ruling 12th house: they are actually hard to please in bed because they desire to experience otherworldly ecstasy and may go out of their way to find it through different things (drugs, alcohol, emotional intimacy, pain, spirituality, etc.), hence the previous observation. They tend push boundaries and enjoy very odd stuff similar to Aquarius but the difference here is that Pisces is not detached, they have a tendency to romanticize any sort of kink and turn it into a deeply intimate experience, all of this as an attempt to take them closer to ecstasy.

Libra placements need to feel like they look pretty while doing it like those romantic sex scenes in movies that's why they like partners who are conventionally attractive. This doesn't necessarily mean they're vanilla but they like to perform in a way that make both parties look flattering, if they or their partner look or act too crazy/wild/messy it can actually turn them off

Also Libra/Taurus/Cancer Venus, Moon, Mars don’t like to feel disrespected!!! Doesn’t matter what they’re into sexually, they need their partner to be mindful, caring and appreciative of them and their pleasure in and out of the bedroom

Cancer placements are sooooo passionate in bed much like fire signs but only if they have feelings for you. Also, they aren't always submissive?? Yes they might want to be babied and cared for but depending on other placements they can very much dominate and take the role of care-giver and provider

People associate Neptune to porn and I don’t disagree (cause fantasies and stuff), but I’ve noticed it’s actually Mars-Uranus/Aquarius Mars and Uranus/Aquarius in the 8th house the ones who actually wanna have sex like they do in porn. That sort of more kinky, rough and emotionally detached sex

Is it just me or Sagittarius rising women are always involved in some sex scandal and constantly sexualized? I mean Kim K, Paris Hilton, Jennifer Lawrence, Scarlett Johanson… I also personally know many Sag rising women who have this “naughty girl” reputation iykwim

Venus-Moon aspects in a man’s chart is the womanizer aspect 100%. Same with men with domicile or exalted Venus and/or Moon. Their sex appeal is very charming, non-intimidating and welcoming so women easily feel soothed by their presence. If underdeveloped they will be very cringe and will tend to make inappropriate advances. I've seen this a lot in men who had a habit of objectifying women. They're horny af and don't hide it, tend to go for conventionally attractive women that can provide satisfaction to all their senses and desires

Saturn influence on Venus/Mars are VERY sensual. They like to keep the pacing very steady without losing momentum

Lilith conjunction to inner placements in synastry will always give that cat and mouse dynamics in a relationship. The Lilith person specially will want to often tease, seduce and even play mind-games to the planet person which causes a lot of sexual intrigue

If, like me, you expected fire in the the 8th house to be the most active in bed then you thought WRONG. It's the exact opposite actually. They demand to be pleased and can actually be the type to just sit back and enjoy

Aries Moon/Venus men are huge bottoms (unless chart says otherwise). They are attracted to a very bold and confident woman that can put him in his place

Earth signs are the freakiest actually. Think about it, earth rules the 3D, the tangible physical world, so it makes sense for these signs to be the most attached to sensuality and exploring physical pleasures in different ways. Honestly people with prominent earth (mars, Venus, moon specially) are always SO hot and sexy, they ooze sensuality and I've noticed they tend to be the most generous in bed, they're all about providing baby

Lilith women can be particularly fond of the cowgirl position

Idk why everyone is so hooked up on 8th house synastry for sexual matters and never talk about 12th house. I've seen this overlay a lot more in couples, specially when Mars/Venus/Moon is here. There is A LOT of unspoken tension and attraction, this house overlay is very haunting in all cases from what I've seen, specially for the house person. This person may wake up desires you didn't even know you had and will randomly loom in your memory forever

Scorpio Mars is sexually overrated I said what I said. No, they're not bad in bed but they're definitely not the sexual gods people make them out to be. What's exciting about being with these natives is the energy, anticipation and passion more than anything (also they last a reeeeaaally long time), but once they get in the act they get completely driven by their lust and desire which makes their performance a bit animalistic and reckless. They tend to be the type to go straight into the crotch area and forget any other kind foreplay and stimulation. Being with them will feel like sleeping with a very horny person that is having sex for the very first time in their lives. They're also not as freaky as people make them out to be, sure they're open to trying stuff but idk there's something about them that is low-key a bit conservative and closed off (which is fine)

Virgo, Pisces and Cancer Lilith are the type to act innocent before/during/after doing the most filthy shit

work by astrobydalia

[omgeto]

☆ GIMME, GIMME MORE — GETO SUGURU

summary: you were just a stripper who had no desire to fuck with any customers, but there was just one you couldn’t shake. once he laid his eyes on you, he wanted you. and with every little piece of you he got — he wanted more.

wc: 6.5k (my longest fic ever, lord help me) its a lot of plot with a nice chunk of smut

cw: afab!stripper!reader, angst to fluff, smutty smut, you fuck in his car, you fuck in a private room (i remembered condoms this time) so mdni sassy geto, if you squint.

an: listen to this song to feel the vibe, I love me some geto and I’ve yet to do a fic for him so I hope you enjoy this one.

the entrance to the high-end club exudes an air of opulence, with its glimmering lights and sophisticated clientele. geto suguru strolls in alongside his best friend, gojo satoru, the low hum of the music washing over them. the glances around, a mixture of boredom and detachment etched on his face. this isn't really his scene, but gojo had insisted on a night out.

as they find their way to a table, surrounded by plush seating and an atmosphere of indulgence, geto's attention wanders. the dancers on stage move with practised sensuality, but his gaze remains distant. until, that is, a change in the music's tempo signals a shift in the performance.

the spotlight illuminates the stage, revealing a figure that seems to command the room's attention effortlessly. you move with a fluid grace, your body swaying in time with the sultry rhythm. the way your hips move, the confidence in your eyes, it's as if you own the room. gojo's earlier detachment gives way to fascination he can't deny.

he couldn’t take his eyes off the way you were sliding down the pole, leaning forward in his seat to see more of you. the star shaped nipple covers and the gem encrusted thong you were wearing left nothing to the imagination. but still he couldn’t help but picture it all off of you, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a closer look. 

gojo nudges him playfully. "not bad, right?"

geto’s response is a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes remain locked on the captivating dancer. his heart races as he watches you command the stage, a magnetic presence that draws him in despite his earlier disinterest. he couldn’t help but feel that you were dancing for him, call him cocky but the way your eyes were locked on him as you threw your ass back against the pole — he knew that was just for him. he looked around the room and saw that everyone else was just as captivated by you as he was.

“she’s the best performer here, she doesn’t do private dances, she doesn’t even do a long set,” gojo brags to geto but he’s barely listening, his eyes too focused on you, “this is as much of her as we can get.” 

as the performance reaches its climax, geto’s lips curve into a slow smile. gojo’s grin is knowing. "looks like someone's found their muse." geto’s tears his gaze away just as you exit the stage, his interest piqued.

“you’ve got a request,” your boss announces insistent and smug, cornering you immediately after you exit the stage.

“you know i don't do requests, i come here, i do a 30 minute set and i leave remember?” you retort, stepping to walk straight past him, but he stops you, standing in front of you to block your path.

“this is a request you can’t refuse,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips. your eyes narrow at his words, already feeling a sense of unease.

“oh i think i can,” your intention is clear as you step forward, intending to brush past him and continue on your way. but he remains unmoved, determined to stand in your path, his stance a physical barrier you can't easily circumvent.

“there’s a special guest tonight, someone who’s willing to pay handsomely for a private performance,” he explains, his tone implying much more than his words reveal.

you pause, folding your arms, sceptical. “how much are we talking about?”

he names a figure that makes your eyebrows shoot up. It’s a significant sum, the kind that could cover your bills for months, or even help you save for a future beyond the club. but still, you hesitate.

“like i said, i don't take request,” you conclude, brushing past your boss.

“i don’t think this particular patron will like that,” he tries to argue, following directly behind you.

“ask me if i care,” with those words, you step forward once more, your purpose clear as you attempt to carry on. but his presence remains a persistent shadow at your side, his attempts to sway you far from over. 

his argument falters momentarily, but he regains his composure quickly, his tone becoming insistent. "this particular patron isn't accustomed to denial. I don't think he'll take kindly to it."

a defiant smirk tugs at your lips, your patience waning as you find yourself driven further by your own principles. "well, here's a thought—perhaps he should learn."

with that final retort, you pivot on your heel, striding purposefully toward the locker room. the temptation of the significant sum and the vague promise of this special patron tug at the edges of your thoughts, but your determination remains resolute.

“if you don’t do it your fired.” he calls out after you, a desperate final attempt to get you to agree.

you knew you were going against your better judgement, but you turn back to face your boss and with a deep sigh you agree, “fine, i’ll do it. but you owe me.”

with simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface, you push open the door to the private room, your entrance punctuated by the subtle swish of the heavy fabric. the air within was charged, a blend of anticipation and tension, as you found geto suguru lounging on the plush sofa, his presence an unwelcome sight that intensified your irritation.

your words come out abruptly, a firm reminder to both him and yourself, “i don’t fuck clients,” you state, a touch of defensiveness in your tone. you wanted to establish your boundaries, to make it clear you wouldn’t be swayed easily.

he chuckles, catching you off guard, his amusement evident. “thats nice…” he adds, with a hint of playfulness, “i just wanted to talk anyways.”

“to talk?” you question, surprised at his request, as you knew what went on in the private rooms and talking was far from that.

“yeah, just wanna get to know you,” he explains casually, his eyes studying you.

“i don’t do time wasters,” you complain, ready to leave the room, “and i don’t have time to waste.”

“even if im paying for your time?” he bargains, raising his eyebrows, “im sure your boss told you the pretty expensive bill im footing just for your time.”

crossing your arms, you met his gaze with a steady one of your own. “look, mr…?”

“just call me suguru,” he interjected with a smile that held a hint of charm.

“alright, suguru,” you continued, your tone resolute, “i'm not here to entertain idle chit-chat. i’ll dance for you for an hour and thats it. just abide by the club rules, otherwise im out.”

“why don’t you take private requests?” he inquiries, disregarding your comments.

“because i don’t have to,” you respond nonchalantly, “why are you so persistent that you pay for my time. there’s tons of other great strippers in this club.”

“because i want you.” he shrugs.

“well too bad,” you mock, “just because you have money doesn’t mean you can buy everything.”

“everyone’s got a price,” he argues, chuckling softly, a condescending tone underling his words, “ah, but isn't that the way the world works? everything has a price, even principles.”

the audacity of his statement ignited a fire within you, your voice heated with defiance and scorn. “you think im for sale? you think i’d compromise my integrity just for a fat stack of bills? you’re delusional.”

“oh but isn’t your integrity already compromised,” he teases, raising his eyebrows, “is miss, ‘i dont do private dances,’ not in a private dance with me right now?”

“you know wha–” 

“i changed my mind. i don’t want to talk anymore,” there was a shift in his tone, amusement danced in his eyes, “strip for me.”

you were pissed. but you couldn’t actually argue – he was right. he was paying for your time and he could spend it anyway he wanted to. you’d rather have him silently watching you anyways than talking to you. 

the music blared through the speakers in the room, and you immediately straddled geto, you could feel his dick harden underneath you. the only thing separating you two was the thin layer of fabric of your thong. 

you could see him smirk at you, but you ignored him, grinding your hips down on him to the beat of the music. his starts to trail down your sides, but you give him a pointed look reminding him of the rules – no touching. he surrenders his hands placing them besides his head, content in watching you dance on his lap.

you moved off of him, using the pole that was in the room, his eyes stayed fixed on you. you wanted to put on a show for him, so you move your body expressing a mix of sensuality and power, your eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge you further, to push your boundaries even more.

the hour was eventually up, and geto didn’t say anything as he left, he just leaves a fat stack of bills on the table, and for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue, “is that it? you’re just going to leave?”

“well the hours up, no?” he responds, checking his watch, “and, i’ve paid you for your time.” you couldn’t argue with that, so you remain silent watching as he turns his back on you to leave the room.

“suguru,” you call out, getting him to pause, “wait.”

“i thought you didn’t fuck clients,” he smirks, coming up from in between your thighs, “but i am not complaining”

“s-shut up,” you exhale, you’d like to believe that you didn’t expect this to happen, but you knew that was a lie. you didn’t get far out of the club, in fact you didn’t make it out of the parking lot. the back of geto’s car seemed to be perfect with the way he was eating you out. 

the feeling of geto sucking on your clit, had your head empty. his head being pressed between your thighs makes your back arch as you push up against his face. he laps against your folds, drowning in your wetness. 

“‘i don’t do private dances,’” he mocks your previous words, amused with himself, “oh if only you could see yourself now.” he enjoyed you like this, pinned under him, your pussy dripping all over his face, you were a writhing mess; no longer complaining to him about his actions, you were reduced down to moans and incoherent sentences, the only thing he could hear clearly was his name.

“suguru ah s-shit,” you curse, as he presses down on your clit, “do you always talk this much?” you tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his face closer in your pussy, his nose deep in your arousal. he was practically inhaling you, swirling his tongue deep inside, trying to taste every inch of you.

“‘m close suguru,” you whine, thrust up against his face aiming to reach your peak on your own.

“calm down princess,” he teases, pulling his lips away from your pussy, “didn’t know you were this eager.” he presses his lips down on yours, making you taste yourself as his hand goes behind your neck to hold you in place. “see how sweet you can be?” 

he takes his dick out of his pants, quickly putting on a condom, not even giving you much time to think before he’s slamming into your cunt. your eyes widen as your pussy stretches, and geto can only bite his lip as he feels you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

he was merciless, gripping his hands on your tits, as he pistons out of you. he could only focus on how your cunt tightens around him with every push. you were pushing yourself down on him, fucking him right back. you didn’t care for his praise, you just wanted to cum.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name. 

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, clawing at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“suguru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, swiftly pulling out of and leaving his cum all over your stomach. you release onto his car seats, your cum spilling out of your pussy, pooling into his car seats.

after coming down off your high, you come to your senses. “this doesn’t change anything.” you remove yourself out of his hold, pushing him off you.

“you really gonna say that after i gave you the best time of your life?” 

"'best time of my life?'" you echo, a smirk tugging at your lips as you gather your belongings, "someone's cocky."

“i'm starting to feel you like me that way,” he teases, his words a playful challenge.

you roll your eyes, not willing to engage in his banter any longer. "goodbye, suguru," you reply, opening his car door. "don't return to the club."

“oi princess,” he calls after you, “you left your thong.”

“keep it.” you wink as you step outside of the car, “think of it as a souvenir.”

“why would i need that, when im going to see you again?” you don't respond, shutting the car door with a smile on your face as part of you hoped that he did return.

geto did see you again, practically every day after that. it became a consistent routine, he’d book a private room for a couple hours, you’d fuck, you’d talk and see each other whenever he wanted. he came when he needed you – and he always needed you.

as a stripper, you’ve always had one rule ‘don’t fuck with clients,’ but the moment that geto suguru laid his eyes on you – you were his. there was something about him that made him different from all the other patrons, although they were all snobby rich guys, the way that geto carried himself made you feel like he was worth breaking your rule. or at least that's what you told yourself. 

you didn’t just fuck each other – sometimes he just wanted to talk to you, to ask you about your day, to get to know you. and you could tell he was starting to catch feelings that you weren’t prepared to deal with. however, despite him being rich, there was something endearing in knowing that he went out of his way, every day, to pay just to see you. even when you were mean and standoffish.

you always spoke for longer than you expected – longer than he even paid for. geto surprised you, he was actually interested in talking with you. as the minutes turned into an hour, the conversations flowed in unexpected directions. you found yourselves sharing stories, discussing interests, and laughing at each other’s jokes. geto’s charming demeanour and genuine interest gradually chipped away at your initial reservations.

“did you always want to be a stripper?” he asks, you had just finished fucking and he still had an hour left of paid time with you, and he was going to use it.

“do you always pillowtalk?” you retort smartly, evading his question.

“who would’ve thought you’d still be this bitchy after being fucked so good,” he jokes, pulling you into his hold that you quickly ease into, “girl just answer the question.”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, “i needed the money, i loved to dance, so being a stripper was a no brainer to me.”

“do you like working here?” 

you shift slightly in his embrace, your fingers idly trace patterns on his chest. "liking it? well, it pays the bills, if that's what you're asking."

his fingers brush against your hair in a soothing gesture. "but is that all? just a means to an end?"

you sigh, a mixture of vulnerability and honesty in your tone. "i mean, it's not like i dreamt of becoming a stripper when I was a kid. but it's a job that's allowed me some financial stability, even if it's temporary."

geto's voice was gentle, his curiosity evident. "temporary for how long?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. "i don’t know, i haven’t thought that far. i just wanna make money.”

"well, if you ever get tired of dancing, i can always buy the club for you." his response was unexpected, a mixture of humour and absurdity. “i think you’d make a good boss.”

“ha, if you did that i’d know that you’re truly obsessed with me,” you chuckle, his words catching you off guard. “i know you enjoy this place, but that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"maybe, but you're worth it." he grins, his playful demeanour unwavering. "you're more than what you do here, you know."

a soft, ironic chuckle escapes your lips. "funny, coming from someone who's always here."

his grip on you tightens slightly, his voice holding a trace of seriousness. "perhaps I come here because I want to be around you. not just the dancer."

it was as if his presence had chipped away at the walls you had erected, leaving you exposed to a whirlwind of feelings you hadn't anticipated.his gaze, unwavering and intense, held yours as if searching for a sign—a spark of recognition that you too were experiencing this undeniable pull.

"suguru," you begin, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the distance between you, "this... whatever it is between us, it can't be as simple as you wanting to be around me."

he smiles softly, a gentle curve of his lips that holds both understanding and patience. "you're right, it's not simple. but isn't that what makes it worth exploring?" his words were a delicate melody, an invitation to step beyond the boundaries you had created.

you met his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. the weight of his presence was undeniable, a force that had drawn you in and left you yearning for more. but your insecurities whispered caution, reminding you of the differences that set you apart.

"suguru," you admit, your voice softer now, "i've never let anyone get this close. it's complicated, and I don't even know where this could lead."

“it doesn’t matter where it will leads,” he says, “what matters is that you like me? right?”

his words hung in the air, a direct question that pierced through the layers of uncertainty and vulnerability that surrounded you. the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his question settling like a delicate veil over the intimate space you shared.

your breath caught, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause. the truth, the raw honesty that had eluded you, stood before you—bold and unyielding. you looked into his eyes, his gaze unwavering and patient, as if he was giving you the space to find your own truth within the question.

your voice, soft and tinged with a mixture of trepidation and longing, finally found its way to the surface. "i..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. but in the depth of his gaze, you found a strange sense of comfort, an assurance that you could be honest without judgement.

"maybe," you admit, your voice a whisper that carries the weight of your emotions. "maybe i do like you, suguru." the admission felt like a release, letting go of the barriers you had constructed to protect yourself.

a slow smile curved his lips, a genuine expression that lit up his features. it was as if your honesty had unlocked a door, allowing both of you to step closer to a truth that had been waiting to surface. he replies with deep content, "maybe is a good start," 

the room felt charged with an energy you couldn't quite define, a tension that simmered beneath the surface. your eyes held his, a silent conversation that spoke volumes—an acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had grown between you.

as you lay there, cocooned in the aftermath of both physical intimacy and heartfelt conversation, an internal struggle brewed within you. your heart was stirred by the sincerity of geto's words, by the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every interaction. yet, amidst the warmth and comfort, a sense of bittersweet uncertainty gnawed at you.

the boundary you had set, the rule you had vowed to uphold, wavered under the weight of emotions you hadn't anticipated. you were drawn to geto, but a tangle of reservations held you back.

in the embrace of the night, you found yourself torn between the allure of a connection you had come to cherish and the lingering fear of what being with him might entail. 

“you’re here early,” you comment, seeing geto in his usual seat. at this point, you were practically excited to see him, happy to go to work knowing that he’d show up.

“i guess i thought i’d change things up a bit,” he mutters his tone of voice off, “we’ve got to make this quick, though” he starts to undo his belt, “i’ve only got an hour till my next meeting.”

“wow no talking today?” you ask amused. geto usually is the one that likes to take his time, he always says he prefers to stimulate your mind before anything else, but today was different.

he gives you a pointed look, not bothering to respond so you continue to say, “an hour?” smirking as you straddle his lap, freeing his dick, “i think that’s more than enough time.” 

“new outfit?” he muses, pulling at the straps of the lingerie you were wearing. you nod, focusing on stroking his dick, “red’s your colour, i like it. but i’d rather see it off you.” suddenly, he rips off your bra and forces you up to take off your panties. you bend down to take off your heels, but he pauses you, “keep those on.”                 

“get my fingers wet for me,” he commands, dragging you back onto his lap. you happily comply, taking in two fingers into your warm, pouty mouth. he caresses your jaw as you greedily nibble on his fingers. 

he pulls them out thoroughly coated with your saliva and shoves them into your pussy. you gasp at the contact, and crumble into his side but he forces your head up with his hand pressing a rough kiss to your lips. 

“w-whats with you today?” you query, as you see the look on geto’s face – something was off with him. although you couldn’t deny the pleasure you were getting from his current roughness, you were used to a gentler geto.

“nothing,” he dismisses you, slipping in another finger into your soaking pussy. his thumb rubs against your clit as his fingers easily glide in and out of you. you felt like you cum off of his fingers alone, you grind down hard against his fingers aiding yourself in reaching your climax. but just as you were nearing, he swiftly removes his fingers landing a fat smack against your clit, “i know i said i had to make it quick, but i didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

geto swiftly puts on a condom, raises you up slightly before slamming you down on his dick. he smiles as your legs wrap around his back, pleased by the sound of your heels clacking together. you shudder as he immediately fills you, your pussy stretching, taking all of him. 

he thrusts into you hard, and you try to meet his pace and fuck him back as hard as he was doing to you – but you were no match for him. you were practically a ragdoll as he hammered into you, your arms flinging around his neck to hold yourself up.

“f-fuck,” you moan, clawing at his back, “im gonna cum.”

“hold it,” he demands, continuing to give you strong, relentless strokes. your head falls into his shoulder in submission, you were already gushing all over him, but he keeps going, hard and fast. he lifts up your head, and presses a soft peck against your lips before saying, “cum.”

geto movements turn sloppy as he finishes into the condom. you release all over his dick, shuddering as you feel your peak surge through you. he presses one more kiss to your neck, before you move off of him. 

“are you good?” you finally ask him, as you put back on your outfit, “you seemed a little out of it tonight.”

he shifts on his feet, his restlessness palpable as he watches you. "yeah," he mumbles, looking around the room at everything but you, his fingers fumbling with his belt as if seeking something to anchor himself. "i'm alright."

"you sure?" you persist, a touch of concern pushing you to press further. usually, you wouldn't challenge him this way – because whatever he says goes in the time that he pays for. but the stark contrast to his usual demeanour gnaws at your thoughts. "i just want to make sure that you're okay–"

"didn't I say I was alright," he sneers, a defensive edge entering his tone, "it's like you don't listen or something."

“see, there is definitely something wrong with you,” you snap, screwing your face up at his tone, “since the usual geto that walks up in here knows that he’ll have my heel shoved up his asshole before he can talk to me like that.”

your words hang in the air, the charged tension growing thicker as you each hold your ground. he shifts his weight, his gaze flickering toward you briefly before skittering away. the air seems heavy with unspoken words, a tangible unease settling between you.

"i've actually been wondering how long we're going to be doing this for," he finally says, his voice low, almost as if he's reluctant to voice the thought.

“this?” you question, a confused look appears upon your face as you fold your arms. you knew what he was getting at – you just wanted to hear him say it, “you mean my job.”

his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "oh, I didn't know it was your job to fuck the customers here. I thought you were just a stripper… not a prostitute." 

his words hit like a jolt, a rush of emotion flooding your senses as you absorb their implications. your jaw tightens, a surge of frustration warring with a pang of hurt. "don't be condescending."

he chuckles, the sound a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. "why not? you seem to be a pro at it."

“fuck you.”

“y’know, i’ve figured a lot about you in these times we’ve spent together – despite the fact that you don’t talk much,” he starts to say, his grin getting wider with every word, “i’ve worked out that you liked to be chased, you like the fact that I was intrigued enough to make you break your dumb ass rule, you like the fact that even after I managed to break down your pussy walls, I still wanna take your rude ass to dinner.”

his words cut deep, the truth laced with a mocking tone. you glare at him, the mixture of attraction and anger churning within you. he was right in a way – you did like the chase, the thrill of his attention. 

"you really have it all figured out, don't you?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. his observations stung because they hit too close to the mark. but there was a small part of you that reminded yourself that he was just like the rest of the rich assholes that strolled through the club – and he was proving you right in this very moment.

“well suguru, i’ve worked some things about you.” you sneer, “you’re not the first wealthy lame that has walked into this club demanding more from me than a lap dance and some ego stroking–”

“but i’m the first to get it though aren’t i,” he interrupts, his tone teasing, “what does that say about me?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms defensively. "it says that you're just like the rest of them, thinking you're different, thinking you're special."

his gaze narrows, the spark of something more intense gleaming in his eyes. "oh, I never said I was different. but I am special, darling, and you know it.” you huff defiantly, sitting back down on the couch – this was an argument you couldn’t. because although he was cocky, he was right.

geto joins you, his hand coming gripping your thigh to get your attention, “look i don't want to be doing this with you, all i want is to spend time out with you outside these four walls,” he says as you gnaw on your lip, considering it, “it would be nice to see you with some clothes on for a change.”

he holds your gaze, his fingers tightening slightly on your thigh as if trying to anchor himself in the midst of the storm of emotions you've stirred. his vulnerability is a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes, and it catches you off guard. for a moment, you're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings – his words tugging at something deep within you that you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

but then, you remember the rules you've set for yourself, the boundaries you've fought so hard to maintain. no matter how much he may want to blur those lines, you can't afford to give in.

without giving him a direct answer, you shift slightly, his hand sliding off your thigh as you put some distance between you. your gaze flickers away from him, focusing on some distant point in the room as you compose yourself.

"well, hour's over," you finally say, your tone a touch colder than before. "leave the money where you usually do."

his face falls, the vulnerability replaced by a mixture of disappointment and frustration. he opens his mouth, as if he wants to protest or say something more, but the words seem to die on his lips. the atmosphere between you turns tense once again, the unspoken words and desires hanging heavily in the air. 

you don't meet his gaze as you move to gather your things, your actions brisk and efficient. you've mastered the art of detachment, of creating a barrier between yourself and the clients who come and go, no matter how they may affect you.

as you head toward the exit, your heart beats a little faster, a mix of regret and longing that you refuse to entertain. this is how it has to be – business, no matter how much your heart might argue otherwise.

behind you, you hear him sigh, a sound heavy with frustration and resignation. the door clicks shut behind you, the echo of the room's tension lingering in the silence.

he never returned after that. days turned into weeks, and still, geto's presence remained absent from the club. while you hadn't expected him to return, a small part of you had held onto a glimmer of hope that he might. but the weeks turned into months, and the emptiness left by his absence lingered.

life settled back into its routine – the dimly lit stage, the rhythmic music, you danced, you entertained, you put on a show. yet, there was an ache within you, a void that refused to be filled.

as time went on, you found yourself replaying memories of his presence in your mind – the teasing glint in his eyes, the genuine concern in his voice, the way his smile could light up a room. the connection you had shared, brief as it was, had left an indelible mark on your heart.

you missed the daily banter, the way he would surprise you with his insights, the simple pleasure of knowing he was there. the club felt different now, as if it had lost a part of its vibrancy. the nights were quieter, the laughter more subdued, and the glamour that once surrounded your performances felt somewhat dimmed.

despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the longing that had settled within you. you had a taste of something more with him, a glimpse of a world beyond the club's confines. and now, as you danced under the neon lights, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find that connection again.

the longing in your heart grew with each passing day, a constant reminder of what had been and what might have been. yet, even as you missed him, you were grateful for the moments you had shared – moments that had shown you a different side of life, a side you had almost forgotten was possible.

as you stepped into the club again to start your shift, an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach. the club, which was typically alive with the pulsating beat of music and the murmurs of patrons, was eerily quiet. it was as if the very essence of the place had been stripped away, leaving behind an empty void.

confusion crept into your mind as you glanced around, searching for any sign of movement or life. your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the sound feeling unusually loud against the backdrop of silence. what was going on? had something happened that you weren't aware of?

just as you were about to turn and leave, the sense of unease growing stronger, your eyes land on a figure sitting on the main stage. your heart skipps a beat, a mix of surprise and a rush of emotions flooding over you. it was him – geto. he was here, his presence filling the void that had gripped the club.

he sat there, as if he belonged on that stage, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense as he watches you. the familiar, cocky smirk was ever present on his lips, and despite the confusion that clouds your mind, a warmth spreads through your chest at the sight of him.

as you draw closer, his smirk softens into a genuine smile, a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. the air was thick with tension, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty hanging between you. your heart races in your chest, the space between you charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"suguru," you finally breathe his name, your voice a mere whisper in the stillness.

he stands, his movements fluid and confident, as he closes the distance between you. "hey," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that echoed through the empty club.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, your voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“let’s just say there’s new management here” 

“you bought the club.” you interrogate, “why?”

“i don’t know, im a guy with a lot of money, so i bought a business.” he shrugs blatantly lying, “that’s what guys like me do…”

"you missed me," you conclude, with a grin.

he nods, "I guess I missed you...or whatever," his facade drops immediately. "it's just after you rejected me, i was pissed. all i wanted to do was to show you that i actually cared about you, for you to give me a chance.”

“and buying the club was the most logical way for you to show me that you care?” you argue. “you didn’t have to do that,” emotions swirled within you – a mixture of surprise, hope, and a spark of something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time. before you could respond, he took a step closer, his fingers gently brushing against yours. it was a simple touch, but it held a promise, a connection that went beyond words.

"why do you always have to be so difficult?” he questions fiercely, “why can’t you just let me show you that i do care about you?”

the weight of his words hung in the air, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw the vulnerability, the sincerity that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. “why do you care?” you retort, almost childishly. you knew that he cared, you knew why he cared – you just had an affinity for making things difficult. 

he rolls his eyes at your hard front “if it was anybody else, he would’ve given up a long time ago. but for some reason you were worth it. “because i see you for more than just the standoffish dancer who doesn’t let anyone get to her, im sure you know this by now.” he pulls you closer to him, into a strong hold. “now will you stop fronting and let me have you – all of you?”

you nod with mock reluctance, practically melting in his arms, “but what about my job? I’m not gonna stop being a stripper just because of you.”

“and i wouldn’t even ask you too,” he says quick with reassurance, “besides i find it hot that everyone gets to see you this way but they just can’t have you like i do.” he starts to work your top off your body, unhooking your bra, exposing your tits, “like just imagine, a crowd full of people watching me fuck the shit out of you — wanting you so badly, but not getting to touch.”

“we can’t do this here,” you gasp out as his fingers start to toy with your hard nipples, pinching and twisting them.

“why not?” he smirks, “you’re the boss aren’t you?”

“me, but i thought you bought the club.”

“you’re the one who said if i bought it you’d know that im truly obsessed with you,” he reasons, his lips pressing a kiss under your ear as he whispers, “do you get the picture now?”

“like I said you really d-didn’t have to do that,” you say, “i was the one that fucked things up here. you didn’t have to buy a whole business for get me to tell you that i like you.”

“oh so you do like me,” he comments sarcastically, “who would’ve thought.”

“shut up,” you grumble, swatting at his chest as he laughs, “i am sorry though. i don’t know why i pulled you into my little game, i knew i liked you a long time ago — but I just couldn't bring myself to admitting it. and I'm sorry for that .”

“it’s fine,” he reassures, “i knew dealing with you would be a challenge — granted i didn’t think it would be this hard — but i knew in the end it would be worth it.” his hands lower down your body, shimmying your pants off of you, “so now you gonna show me how sorry you truly are?”

AN: um so this was A LOT my longest fic ever, please lemme know what you thought since I am SOOOO UNSURE ABOU THIS ONE. thank you to my baessss @kazushawty @satoruhour for beta reading (I owe you two my life) also ur boss was pissed asf to find out that the club he owned was bought and given to you when he was the one that basically got you and geto together in the first place. ill make a part two where gojo comes back to the club to see the pretty little stripper who's got all of his besties attention looool jk

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

sweet dreams

pairing: james sunderland x reader? (written in third person pov, v ambiguous description of nameless woman)

cws/tags: smut, p in v, cheating? or is it?, not proofread, weird vibes and a little dark ig, but it's just the mood of the game

summary: james re-enters heaven's night and finds a woman who seems to remember him. he does not remember her. basically if maria successfully seduced him except it's not maria?

a/n: what is going on in this fic? idk

wc: 1.4k

Mary’s body lies cold in the backseat despite the blanket covering her. He will not find her in the gardens, the old apartment, or any hotel room. Only in a videotape in which she turns to static before it ends. 

The only warmth he has is the jacket he wears. Until he returns to Heaven’s Night. A certain familiarity struck him when he entered the building for the first time. Maybe it’s the stench of liquor, drawing him toward another reality, one void of grief. Maybe it’s the neon lights, the metal pole, a discarded bra. Maybe he’s been here before. The woman sitting at the bar looks at him as if he has. 

“James,” she says with an inviting smile. 

“How do you know my name?” he asks, taking cautious, yet steady steps in her direction. 

“How does anyone know anyone else’s name?” 

“Is that a riddle?”

“No, that was just a question. I’m not trying to trick you, James. I learned your name when you introduced yourself to me.”

“I don’t remember doing that. I don’t remember meeting you at all.”

“You’ve forgotten me already?” Her expression drops, every part of her face is disappointed. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just going through a lot right now. Don’t take it personally.” He finds himself reaching out his hand and placing it on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. 

“Let’s start over,” he suggests. 

She nods and pulls herself together. 

He holds out his hand, and she takes it into her own. Her hands are soft minus the sharp tips of her acrylic nails that tickle his skin. 

“You’re cold,” she remarks, and he cannot decide if her pout pities or mocks him. 

“No, I’m James,” he says, forcing the creases of his lips to turn upwards into something resembling a smile. “Remember?”

“Of course,” she says with a breathy giggle. 

“Now, how about you tell me your name?”

“You know people like me don’t give out our real names, don’t you?”

People like you… it takes him a moment to realize what she means: sex workers. 

“Oh. That’s right. But I’m guessing you have an alias or something.”

“I’ve been called many names. ‘Angel’ when I’m here at Heaven’s Night, ‘Kitty’ at The Catwalk, ‘Jade’ at Jewels, ‘Baby’ by some former lovers. Call me whatever you like.”

Choosing someone else’s name was not something he’d prepared for and it leaves him stumped for a moment. 

“Don’t overthink it,” she says cupping his cheek with her hand. “As long as it’s not Mary…” 

“Why not Mary?” He flinches at the sound of her name. 

She pretends like she didn’t hear him, and pays no mind to his nerves, shrugging them off as she leads him to a seat in front of the stage. 

He follows her, eyes stuck on her curves. He startles when she pushes him onto the loveseat. 

“James, baby,” she says, her voice softer, but just as sultry. “Why are you so nervous? You want this, don’t you?”

“I just feel like I shouldn’t, that’s all.”

“Your mind is playing tricks on you, then. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see what a woman has to offer. It’s like window shopping, there’s no harm in looking.”

Before he can say anything else she finds a boombox in the corner and sets it up - in doing so, she leans over and reveals a tiny strip of lace underneath her skirt. 

James tries to quickly adjust his pants as she’s turned away from him, but she must know he’s hard. What’s the point in pretending?

When she steps onto the stage, she needs no introduction, only the opening synth of Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) to lead her up the short set of stairs before she walks around the pole, prepared to do tricks that James’ imagination couldn’t conjure up even if he begged it to. But despite his amazement at the way her body bends, even more so when her clothes begin to disappear, it’s the moment she sits at the front of the stage and spreads her legs, giving him a better view of the red lace thong he got a peek at earlier, that really gets him going. 

He didn’t know he was hungry until he was starving. 

The music doesn’t stop, the cassette runs its course. The scantily-clad woman straddles James’ lap, just hovering but close enough to feel the warmth emanate from her body. 

“I know I said it’s just looking, but there wouldn’t really be any harm in touching me, would there?” 

She takes his hands in hers and places them on her chest. 

He can feel her tits, her skin, her heartbeat. She’s so warm, and real, and alive. There is the childlike urge to squeeze them, to hold and let go, make them bounce in front of his eyes, but instead, he slides his hands down her waist to her hips, sitting her firmly in his lap. 

“You’re so warm,” he says without thinking. 

“I’ll be cold soon if you leave me like this,” she says. Then, leans down to whisper in his ear, “Take off your clothes.”

When he asks, “are you sure?” it stumbles out of his mouth and lands with a groan as she peppers kisses down his neck.  

She only hums in response. He removes his jacket and unbuttons his shirt so her mouth can reach further – to his collarbone, while her hands travel to his poorly-hidden erection. 

She looks up at him and bats her eyelashes before going any further. It’s her way of asking permission. 

“I guess… as long as we don’t go too far…”

“We’ll just get naked, maybe even kiss, nothing more,” she says. 

So, he helps her get his pants off and she slips off her barely-there panties. 

He feels alive for the first time in years when her warm body touches his, skin-to-skin. 

He doesn’t protest when she kisses him, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel something other than dread for once. 

She surely feels his need prodding at her core, but she must feel his guilt as well because she assures him, “If it slips in by accident, then, it’s nobody’s fault, right?”

“Right,” he says, completely under her spell, nodding along. 

Of course there are no accidents. This is a mistake, not an accident. James knows this, but when she repositions her hips, he lets her wet heat envelope his cock. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” she says, a tiny grin peeking through her faux-apology. 

“It’s okay, I’ll just pull out,” he says. And slowly, with a grunt, he does. 

He keeps a tight grip on her hips so he can guide her back to him. “You can sit back down now,” he says, with his cock ready to enter her again. 

“We’ll do better this time,” she says, rubbing her folds teasingly along his shaft before gripping it and sliding it inside her. 

“Sorry, it just, you know, slipped in,” he says, almost believing his own lies. 

“But it’s only the tip. It barely even counts, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” The music covers up his heavy breathing and her soft moans. But James makes sure she can hear him when he says, “You’re so wet, it’s only natural for it to slide right in.” He fills her in one thrust and it finally drags a long-held back groan from him. 

They can’t make more silly excuses when they’re both breathless as she bounces up and down on his cock at a steadily increasing pace. He holds her like he fears he’ll lose her and buries his face in her neck as if muffling any moans would take away any of the guilt. 

But he’s shameless when he asks if he can cum inside her, and she’s quick to say, ‘yes’. 

Though he’s as warm as ever, he shudders through his climax. After being pent-up for so long, he has a dizzyingly intense orgasm. What keeps him grounded is each squeeze of her walls around him and the sting of her nails digging into his skin as she cums at the same time he does. 

The guilt returns along with confusion when she stands back up to get dressed. He follows her lead, but once his shirt is halfway-buttoned, he freezes, looking over at her for some sort of explanation, some sort of direction. 

“What?” she asks, brushing off her skirt as she sits down at the bar. 

“Nothing. I just- I don’t think we should’ve done that.”

“Don’t feel guilty, James. You said you were looking for someone, and you found someone.”

“No, I meant I was looking for-”

“Love? Comfort? Absolution?” She laughs differently now. “You won’t get those here.”

“No, for my wife…”

“Mary?”

“Yeah, do you know her?”

“Not anymore.”

Like everything else, she is swallowed up by the fog. 

[bluebellhairpin]

Katsuki Bakugou X Secretary!Reader

Summary: Working as the secretary to the famous designer Katsuki Bakugou hasn't been easy - however you find out you have it easier than most. Soon after that, you find out why.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Power Dynamic (VERY inappropriate boss/employee relationship). Swearing. Smidge of making-out. Bakugou probably gives off manipulative yandere vibes. Reader; wears a skirt, is called 'baby', otherwise is g/n (unless I've missed something T-T).

Listening to: 'Donatella' by Lady Gaga - "I wanna dress you up in silk taffeta, tailor these clothes to fit your guilt, what's your size?"

Masterlist || Ko-Fi || Art inspired by the fic

The Bakugou brand was known all over the world. From Gucci to Balenciaga, Bakugou was a name everyone in the fashion industry respected - and when it came to the man behind it all, it was also a name to be feared. 

Katsuki Bakugou, with his grown wealth, fame, and the power that went with them, was practically a god on earth. 

You were the one lucky (or pitied) person chosen to work closely with him. A secretarial assistant job to none other than the man himself was a job so many people would die for. It was also a job many before you had almost died while enduring. No one had lasted longer than a year. It barely took a week for you to figure out why. 

Katsuki wasn’t just a diva, or a bitch (although he certainly was those things too) - he was the devil in Christopher Goodyear Welt’s. 

By three months working under the blond tyrant, you had decided your life could be worse. You weren’t sure why all his previous assistants weren’t able to handle it - not until you walked into work this morning. 

Katsuki was already in his office - a situation you hadn’t come across yet since he had a strict nine-to-five schedule he adored - and was practically roaring at someone down the receiver of his landline. He had a temper on him, sure - he was as famous for it as he was for his designs - but you’d yet to see him quite this angry before. 

“You wouldn’t know corduroy if you spent your nine months in the womb with it!” you heard as you set your bag aside and hooked your coat up. “Get me Eijirou you shitty prick!” 

You settled at your desk, eying his shadow through the frosted glass as he paced back and forth as you powered on your computer. Your eyes flickered down to the phone on your desk - if you picked it up you’d be able to hear the person on the other end - however if Katsuki caught you eavesdropping more than you already where (not that you had much of a choice right now) you would be in a whole new world of trouble. 

“Put me on hold, I dare you.” Was the final thing Katsuki said before slamming the phone back down. It became eerily quiet. You barely dared to breathe. 

Hearing his footfalls softly stalk across the carpet of his office, you tucked your head down and opened a random email to look busy. 

“Where the fuck have you been all morning?” Your eyes rose to meet his vermilion ones. He had on that black button down that made his shoulders seem extra wide. For a moment words failed you - but you kicked your brain into gear quickly. 

“Sir, it’s only eight thirty?” 

“I’ve needed you here since six.” he said, leaning forward with a hand sprawled across your desk, looming over you in a way you had become quite accustomed to, and sending a dizzying waft of his cologne in your direction. 

“I was very unaware of that,” you said, almost apologizing, but then thinking otherwise. You had been learning quickly the things Katsuki liked people saying, and the things he liked less so. “What can I do now?” 

“Absolutely fucking nothing. You’re useless now.” he leant back, waving you off and sighing. “I need a coffee.” he said, turning on his heel back into the office. 

“Useless my ass - who else gets you coffee?” you mumbled, quickly clicking through the email so you didn’t forget to later. Katsuki could be an absolute bitch, but at least he hadn’t yelled at you specifically - yet. 

The little kitchenette across from your desk made coffee runs very easy - the only issue was that it still took a while. No instant or pod coffee’s for the great Katsuki. 

Ten minutes later and you were pushing the door to Katsuki’s office open with one hand full of cayenne pepper infused coffee, and the other holding the latest Vogue magazine that had just been dropped at your desk. 

You wordlessly placed the coffee on a coaster, and the magazine went from the table into his hands before you could even put it on the table. He likewise silently started flicking through the pages - but you had things to talk about. 

“What was the issue this morning?” You asked, straight to the point. He didn’t look up at you when he answered, instead stayed focused on the pages as he fingered through them. 

“Some extra who can’t get his head out of the twentieth century.” He said, taking a large mouthful of his drink. If he liked it he’d say nothing - often the only time he gave his opinion on things was when he didn’t like something. “He won’t call back.” 

“They always do.” You said, standing firm until you had the answers you sought - coming back to ask the same thing twice was such a hassle for the both of you. “I’d appreciate knowing what to say when he does.” 

“I don’t care,” he said, flicking the magazine down in exasperation to look up at you with a heatless scowl. “If it’s Eijirou you can patch him through, everyone else is a complete waste of time.” 

Your eyebrows raised in something akin to surrender as your hands smoothed down the fabric of your skirt. 

“Don’t forget your meeting with the seamstresses after lunch.” You said, then left to return to answering your emails and phone calls.

You always took your lunches with Hanta - a seamster two floors below Katsuki’s office. You found him extremely chill after having to deal with your whirlwind of a boss. He was like your lifeline - better yet, he could keep secrets like it was nobody’s business. 

“I walked in this morning and I swear the glass for the whole floor was rattling.” you said, looking down into your cup of canteen-supplied orange juice. “If I wasn’t so sure he wasn’t going to hurt me I’d probably quit.” 

“You know I’m like ninety percent sure you’re his favorite.” Hanta said. Your eyes shot up to his, but he wasn’t looking at you.

“I doubt that would be hard,” you said slowly, “His past secretaries sounded super incompetent for a job this fast-paced.” 

“No, not just a secretary, but a person. I think your his favorite person in the whole world.” he said, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “He can scream at me, hell he’s thrown punches at Kirishima, and he’s Kirishima - you though? He acts like you’re porcelain.” 

You felt your face scrunch up into a frown, and a huge smile cracked over Hanta’s face. “I can see why he likes you - you look just as scary as him when you make that face.” 

“Hanta Sero, you take that back!” You said, voice almost too shrill besides the hum of the lunchtime cafeteria rush. 

“I will do no such thing,” he said, leaning back in his chair, and crossing his arms and legs in a slow, cat-like manner. “I think it’s hilarious. Needed something new to tease you over anyway.” 

“I am simply going to ignore you then.” you said. You felt your face scrunch even more, before you took a deep breath to relax. “You don’t deserve my attention right now anyway.” 

Hanta huffed a laugh, leaning forward on his elbows. “I think we both know who really wants your attention, and I’m not going to be the person to fight him for it.”

Katsuki’s afternoon meeting had gone smoothly - you thought that it must mean some catastrophic hurricane was due later that afternoon. Or maybe you’d get hit by a car on the way home. Either way, the pleasant meeting meant Katsuki was either in a really good mood - or a really bad one. 

On his way back into his office, he threw an order to call Eijirou at you over his shoulder, before throwing the doors open and entering his office. 

“It’s important.” he said, and that was where the conversation ended. When you dialed the number only to be met with the receptionist - not even patched through to Eijirou’s assistant Denki - you practically rolled your eyes. 

“I’ve got Marcel!” Silence was the stern reply. You’d spoken to him a few times - not the nicest guy in the world, so in your opinion Katsuki’s hatred of the man was valid/ You didn’t want to speak with him either, so you hung up. 

Then there was a call of your name. 

“Come here!” You sighed, but obeyed and walked around your desk and into Katsuki’s office. You were met with a sight that wasn’t foreign to you - but it made your heart stutter all the same. He was leant back in his chair, a large drawing pad against his folded knee, and a pencil pressed into his cheek. He was watching you closely as you walked in, red eyes partially covered by a set of half-rimmed reading glasses. 

Your boss was mean, but his looks could make the devil cry. 

“I am… Promoting you.” he said. You felt your mouth fall open in shock. 

“I - Sir, I don’t -”

“Katsuki.” he said, voice now as hard as his stare. “No more ‘Sir’. You call me by my name. Understand?” 

“Okay…” you said, voice breathless as joy swirled in your chest (finally, your hard work and patience had paid off!), “Katsuki.” 

At the sound of you saying his name, he declined further back in his seat, and smiled - wide and showing off both canines. 

“That’s much better,” he said, as if he’d been waiting for the change of title formalities, “Now sit down, we have a lot to talk about.” 

You went to sit at the chair in front of his desk but he shook his head, almost jumping to his feet like he’d had hot coffee spilled on his lap. His suddenness had you freezing. 

“No no, not there,” he said, waving the chair away with disgust, “Over there.” He pointed over to the chaise as if it was the most obvious place in the room to sit, then sat back in his own chair again. 

Turning, you took a tentative seat on the sofa, and looked across at him expectantly with your tongue between your teeth. His pencil had found a new home on the open page of his sketchbook, and you quickly realized he was going to be multitasking this impromptu meeting. However he was making little to no effort at starting this ‘talk’ he seemed so urgent to begin only moments ago. 

“So is there anything else to this promotion besides being able to call you ‘Katsuki’, or is that it?” you asked. His eyes flicked up at you, pencil stopped, and the side of his mouth quirked up, before his expressions changed completely to one of disapproval again. 

“There’s more.” he said. You could see how tempted he was to not say more, if only to push your patience and see just how far it went. “You probably should know about it, considering just how personal things are going to get around here.” 

You felt your heart beat pick up as he stood to stalk around the desk. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re going to need to find a new you, let's start with that.” he said, and pushed your shoulder back with the eraser end of the pencil. You fell back against the couch, and the pencil moved to guide one arm across the back of the chair - then crossed one leg over the other - then moved your other hand on top of your knee. Before you knew it you had been moved to pose like a sketching doll. 

Katsuki gave you a once over, looking very pleased with himself (or how easy you were to manipulate), then walked back over to his desk. The pencil started again. 

“You want a new secretary?” You finally heard yourself ask, voice coming out far too weak for your liking. 

“More like you need an assistant.” he said, attention clearly divided between whatever he was designing, and your conversation, “Your schedule is going to be a lot busier as of now.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked again. His head shook.

“If you ask that question again I’m going to have this conversation with you some other time.” 

“You do know how badly you’re explaining this ‘promotion’, right?” you asked, voice coming out a little harsher than you knew was appropriate. But being proper can be damned, you wanted answers. 

He just looked at you for a long moment with a knowing, albeit smug, smile. The sketchpad was dumped on his desk, pencil and glasses dropped on top. 

“I’ve been hit with a new wave of ideas.” he said, “They’re amazing. New. Iconic. These designs fly off magazine racks and clothing store hangers like nothing else before. I couldn’t tell where the inspiration came from, not until I thought of when it all started, and the only thing notable about that was you starting to work for me.” 

As he explained he stood slowly, came to stand before you again, now with the side of his leg pressed to your knees. Katsuki’s hand rose, and the backs of his fingers trailed across your cheek in a manner that was almost too soft, and too shy, to be an action coming from the harsh man before you. 

“I need you with me, everywhere, from now on.” he said, voice low, softer than you’d ever heard it before. “I need you with me, and I don’t know how else to make sure of it besides making it your job.” 

“Everywhere?” 

“Of course, what use is an artist without their muse?” You had to admit, that forked tongue of his was making your knees weaker by the second. Was he truly saying you inspired  him? 

“You couldn’t have just asked?” 

“I don’t need to ask,” his hand came down to grip your chin, thumb momentarily pressing on your bottom lip, “I get what I want.” Where his voice was getting stronger by the second, yours was sounding even weaker.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

“You don’t want to?” Katsuki asked, hand slightly releasing pressure on your chin - as if shocked at the thought of someone willing, and unafraid in telling him no. “Everyone wants to. Don’t you?” 

“No,” you said quietly, completely letting your heart take over, no matter what could happen after. “I do want to.” His face broke out into that same wolfish grin as before - his hand snuck around to the hair at the base of your neck and found a firm home there. 

“Then why not get paid for it while you do.” he said, an air of finality about the matter, and then leant down to capture your mouth in a searing, hard kiss. Hard enough that you could almost feel his teeth and jawbone trying to meld into yours - searing enough that you could feel heat swelling in your stomach and knees at how fierce and needy it all was. It took your breath away completely. 

After a few long moments - long enough to have your eyes fluttering closed and your lungs burning - he pulled away. 

Katsuki didn’t even look at you as he walked away, acting as if what he just did was a casual kiss on the cheek - while you were left feeling flushed on the sofa. Only once he sat down again with his sketchpad and glasses on did he look up at you. He licked his lips, as if making sure to taste whatever of you was left. His smile this time was very smug indeed. 

“See baby, now you look perfect.” he said, then went back to drawing. 

“What?” you asked, still breathless with your nails digging into the fabric of your seat. 

“The lighting in here is foul, absolutely horrendous.” He said, “You needed a glow about you. Now you’re all flustered. it's perfect. With you finally in front of me, these designs are going to be breathtaking - just imagining them on you -” he looked up at you, quite suddenly stopping his train of thought, before wordlessly returning to his sketch. 

From the way your heart felt like it was going to beat right up and out your throat you guessed he accidentally said too much. Had been too sentimental. Maybe Hanta was right - perhaps you were his favorite person. 

You took a deep breath and stood to leave - only to be stopped. 

“Where are you going?” Katsuki asked, voice almost a bark. “I need you here - you can’t leave now that I have you right where I need you!” 

“I need water.” you replied, awkwardly pointing towards the kitchenette with wide eyes as if you were a child caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. He shuffled in his seat, huffing. 

“Be quick,” he said. You could swear you saw the skin of his cheeks flush a tinge of pink as you turned away. He liked efficiency, and it was something you were pretty good at, but you hadn’t moved quite that fast before.

When you had agreed to your ‘not-so-little’ promotion, you were sent home with a whole new list of Terms and Conditions and - the more alarming of the two - an NDA. 

With your lips still tingling from your apparent kiss from Katsuki, and your knees still weak, you weren’t able to do much more than graze your eyes over bits and pieces before deciding it was all okay. You should’ve taken the time to read it all. 

You should always read the fine print when making deals with the devil. 

The next day, almost as soon as you stepped into the building, you were met with Katsuki’s not-quite-other assistant, Mina, and whisked away to the seamstress floor. There you met Hanta, who himself had been up for the most part of the night - slaving over the newest design Katsuki procured as of just yesterday. 

When you were told to get into a change room and strip - the carcass of a new dress in your hands - you were just shy of shocked. 

“What - why?” 

“Like I know how the mind of Bakugou works.” Hanta said, waving his hand around tiredly, trying to push you to close the curtain. “You know normally I have models in for this sort of thing - I mean you definitely fit the bill. The measurements, the dress is practically made for you. But it’s weird to me too that he got his secretary to do this job instead.” 

“I’ve never done this before.” You whispered, clutching the covered mock-up to your chest.  

“You’ll be fine,” Hanta replied, just as quiet, with his hand ready to close the curtain on you, “I’ve seen it on a mannequin - it’ll look fantastic on you. Just be confident.”

You tried your best to be confident - as pretty as the dress was, even unfinished with an unfinished hem and seams half-done - but it was leaving you feeling more exposed than you were used to. 

The small changing cubicle had a mirror on one side - what for you weren’t sure. You’d seen plenty of models walk out of them only to have most of it adjusted with pins and cut off with scissors - often by Katsuki himself. You supposed it didn’t matter how bad it looked - you’d get manhandled until it looked the way it was supposed to. 

With your hands smoothing the fabric on your hips - a nervous habit you showed too often - you took a turn in front of the mirror. It did look nice, even if it was only ivory muslin. 

“ - Taking so fucking long!” Quite suddenly Katsuki’s voice could be heard - and even more suddenly you felt a great need to curl up somewhere and hide. He’s going to see you like this. He’s going to hate it. You are not prepared for this. 

Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out your chest and leave a little blood trail all across the floor. 

A hand curled around one side of the curtain divider and pulled it back. You let out a small startled yelp, bringing up your hands to cover your chest as if someone had dropped glass over a marble floor.

It was him. 

“Oh shut up, no one else can see you.” Katsuki said, rolling his eyes before they laid on you in a hard stare up and down. He was right, besides the half-open curtain, you couldn’t see anyone through his broad chest and shoulders - not to mention the cheshire grin that was taking up half his face. “But I wouldn’t blame them for wanting a peek, give me a turn.” 

You stood gobsmacked - where you seriously still processing what was going on? - and watched as his hip cocked to one side and his hands landed on his hips below the huge coat over his shoulders. 

“You are starting a habit of forcing me to do things for you myself.” He said, taking hold of your hips and turning you slowly. His hands were warm as  they moved you around in a small circle, leaving almost a burning trail behind over your hips, lower back and stomach. “I’ll let you know that’s not why I decided to fuckin’ like you.” he said. 

His voice was soft, almost completely without its usual rough baritone. It shocked you, and as you looked over at him he wasn’t meeting your eyes - instead focusing on how a seam at your hip wasn’t seeming to sit how he wanted it to. 

“What?” you asked quietly, aware there were probably others outside - Hanta even - and you supposed both yourself and Katsuki didn’t really want to let other people know exactly what you were talking about. Especially since it definitely sounded more personal than Katsuki ever had been. 

“You did things for yourself. I liked that.” he said. Then, as if you didn’t just share what was most likely the most intimate moment of Katsuki’s adult life, he pushed the curtain back fully and grabbed you by the hand - exposing you fully to the handful of seamstresses waiting. 

With a few barked orders, a flurry of people were at your sides, making adjustments. The neckline loosened, waist was made tighter, the blade of a scissor made another slit up your legs on the opposite side to the one existing. Your hands almost rose to clutch at the fabric at your chest in case it all fell away. Katsuki's hands rose to knock yours away. 

“Don’t get in the way,” he mumbled, standing back. The others backed off too, apparently all taking a moment to look at what remained of the dress. “What do you think?” he asked, looking you right in the eyes. Your mouth parted, as if to answer, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t even talking to you. 

“One of your best.” Hanta said, barely needed to look up from where he was taking final notes to read his long-time associate. “Probably will be once it’s done. Beautiful.” 

“You mean fucking divine.” 

“You’re joking.” you said, carelessly holding the new dress in one hand as you stood angrily looking down at Katsuki. 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” he asked, looking at you over the rims of his glasses. 

He’d brought you back up to his office after the fitting downstairs, only to demand you change into another dress. The reason this time was completely unknown, and he was refusing to elaborate yet - worse, there was nowhere to change up here. 

You’d have to strip and change here (with him in the room), or out behind your desk (right in front of the elevator anyone could use). 

“I can’t believe…” you said, scoffing, now slightly gobsmacked along with your anger. “I’m not doing that.” 

“If you think it bothers me, you’re mistaken.” He said, standing slowly and leaning over his desk. “Get changed. If you’re so protective of your modesty you can run along into the kitchen, see if I care. Just whatever you do, do it quickly. You’re making me wait long enough as it is.” Then he reached across and squished your cheeks between his fingers, pulling you closer so you leant over the desk too. 

“If you really thought I was the kind of man to mix pleasure and professionalism then I’ve got news for you.” he said, wobbling your chin back and forth in his hold. “The only time you have to worry about that is if I invite you home, okay baby?” 

While half of you was wanting to continue to defy Katsuki, you knew you were treading a fine line. 

Letting out a huff, you pulled away, turned on your heel and held the dress out in front of you. It honestly wasn’t much more than a silk slip, but you’d had enough of an interest in fashion over your time to know this was very tame compared to many other dresses. Even compared to the one you wore not even an hour earlier. 

Grinding you jaw in thought for a moment, you thought ‘fuck it’. Katsuki said so already but you knew someone getting almost naked in his office wouldn’t bother him - why should you let it bother you too? 

The dress was thrown onto the chaise, and you pulled off your shirt as you slipped out of your heels. Your skirt shimmed off, and the dress came on. Despite refusing to look behind you to see what Katsuki was doing, you couldn’t help how your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. 

At least your underwear was matching, thank god. 

You were about to do up the zipper when he made it clear he had indeed been watching you. 

“No, take that thing off.” Your head whipped over your shoulder. 

“Excuse me?” If looks could strike someone dead, a lightning bolt would’ve shot right through that window into Katsuki’s back. “I am not getting changed again.” 

“No you bitch, I mean the bra. Take it off, it’s making the dress look daggy.” The way he said it made your face heat up. Duh. 

“You could’ve said that before I put this much on, you’d think you’d have known that before now.” You grumbled, shoving the sleeves down again to unclasp your bra and toss it aside. Turning around again as you did up the zipper, you looked at Katsuki again, and the red of his eyes seemed darker than ever. You wondered if you’d said something wrong. Then his lip quirked up a bit. 

“There’s my favorite secretary.” he said, and imminently tilted his head down to start sketching.

[kytiapseud]

In Defense of Epic Manwhore au

Okay, so I’m kinda nervous to post this but I feel like it should be said. I hope I tagged correctly for the topics I discuss in this. So, in defense of the Manwhore au as for the concept being coerced, it’s not like the god(s) said ‘you’ll die if you don’t have sex with me’. Odysseus is the one who brings it up. Although yes, the line of consent there is a bit murky with Odysseus more doing so to get out of situations rather than because he wants to. It’s totally valid for some fans to not be a fan of the au, not everything in fan spaces is for everyone. You are entitled to your opinion and get to make your fandom experience safe for you. There is something I saw though that felt like commentary about those who came up with/ enjoy the au. To me this felt close to attempted fandom censoring or those who try to ‘cleanse’ all fandom content to what they think is morally correct. Again, it is fine if you want to share your thoughts on something. But I hope no one comes after those who do enjoy the au. I haven’t seen that happen yet, I’m hoping it doesn’t. But the generalization about what it says about those who enjoy the au doesn’t sit right with me. For reasons like I mentioned above, about worrying it could turn into attempted censoring. Especially if anyone tries to get others to agree to black-and-white thinking about what they think is true. That could easily turn into justification to harassment, which I have seen in fandom spaces before. Particularly with anti-proshippers.

There may be valid criticisms to this au concept, but that doesn’t mean everyone who is a fan likes it for the same reasons. Let me address some of what I’ve seen though. The joking about Odysseus being a Manwhore coming from homophobia. Yeah, that’s possible (although personally I feel like a homophobe is more likely to not even mention gay things.) I don’t think that’s always the case though. I know there was one animatic I saw, the first thing I saw for the au, that had a joke in it that I didn’t like. I don’t judge this creator, and in fact it’s a common joke I’ve seen. Particularly with people wishing they didn’t see something. It just doesn’t vibe with me. In no way do I think that those who say such jokes have something wrong with them. People have different senses of humor and I think some use such jokes as a way to cope.

Anyways, I think some of the humor more comes from how unexpected it would be. I mean, we have a war captain facing foes who instead of choosing to fight goes for seducing them. It’s certainly interesting. I know some of the jokes come from the others not involved in the coupling being just shocked or grossed out. I think that more comes from like not wanting to see someone else talk about or get busy with another? I mean, some of these men probably consider each other to be like brothers. I imagine that would be weird. I think homosexuality wasn’t taboo in ancient Greece, I’m not entirely sure though I may need to do more research on that. So there could be some homophobia to the jokes, but I don’t think that’s the case for everyone. It certainly wasn’t for me. It could also be lgbt+ fans wanting to see more gay stuff in the story. Gay shipping isn’t uncommon after all.

I don’t think everyone who talks about the Manwhore au has no problem joking about sa. There can be many reasons why someone may enjoy a concept in media. You don’t know. Like how women are criticized for rape fantasies. I watched a documentary about sex once (I can’t remember which one this was in now) and there was a whole segment about the rape fantasy, discussing why this is an appeal to some women. It did not mean these women want to be raped of course. Part of it could come from a culture of feeling pressure to not experience any sexual feelings, so the scenario allowed them to experience something without feeling guilty about it. There isn’t always a clear explanation for why someone can find something sexy.

I think this started as a joke, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some who wanted something sexy in their Epic fan experience. I mean, having read the Odyssey in school (twice actually) I did not expect I would want to see Odysseus in such a scenario. But then I saw one sexy fanart of him with others and cough I ended up liking it more than I expected. Those who have seen my reblogs on this tag know heh.

There’s also the infidelity notion. I feel like given the situation, Penelope would understand. I also saw some comments that they could be poly, which is a concept I like for this. I’ve also seen mention that human relationships with gods have ended up tragically for the humans involved. I don’t think everyone who listens to Epic knows about that. I didn’t. But again, this goes back to it being fantasy. People enjoying picturing it the way they want to. It doesn’t have to be accurate to the myths. It’s fanfiction/au.

I think the infidelity notion to it didn’t bother me as much as others because in the original, he wasn’t faithful. Sorry for Odyssey spoilers I guess. Anyways, I was already used to him being a cheater. Although the one with Circe may match more with the coercion along the lines of ‘sleep with me for your crew’. The knife that’s been shown in some animatics wasn’t in the original. It’s been a while since I’ve read it so I’m not entirely sure about how that went down.

Referring back to if Odysseus wants it even if he was the one who offered (sorry if I’m all over the place with this, I have a lot of thoughts.) Seducing foes doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t want it. There’s a character in a Sanders Sides roleplay I was in named Remy (Sleep), whose rp version was created/and played by the wonderful @queroze , who was proclaimed by them to be a manslut. His go-to to get out of situations, if he saw it was a fit strategy, was to seduce. Sure, he got into situations that weren’t great, but often he was the active one in the seducing. I wouldn’t say his go-to being to seduce meant it wasn’t always consensual. In fact, there’s many descriptions and some statements from Que themselves saying Remy loved bringing pleasure to his partners.

Then there’s the mention of the unlikeliness of the scenario actually happening. I don’t think this matters that much to be honest. It’s fandom enjoyment. Who cares if people want to enjoy something that doesn’t seem likely in canon? I personally couldn’t see seduction working, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t find the concept entertaining. Sure people shouldn’t insist it could occur to the creators. But aside from that, it doesn’t affect you. Enjoying fan spaces is way more fun if we let things stay peaceful.

I kinda want to write a fanfic now that adjusts to some of the critiques I’ve seen of this au. I know I said I probably wouldn’t, but I got inspired while planning this heh.

[jolalibrary]

x. oh, just to be with you

javier peña x f!reader | chapter ten of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: we're back to texts and phone calls. sorrowful!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

He's aware of everything. 

How the porch creaks when he steps on it, the way the back door doesn’t quite meet the frame unless it’s locked. How the wind is knocking something else, far across the tall grass and fence posts.

Right now, his focus is on how his curtains don’t quite close. That they're letting the thinnest crack of moonlight cascade through his room. How the smallest luminescent slither keeps dancing in the breeze, yet it still lands perfectly on the propped-up photo strip on his dresser, highlighting the two of you, as though he hadn't committed them to memory. 

He can’t remember the last time someone had managed to slide around his walls—bypass his common sense and begin weaving themselves into him. Javi also can't remember the last time he wanted something more than a win.

Then came you.

Not that he complains that you're the exception. He'll never complain when it comes to you. 

Having people close has never been his issue. It’s letting himself fall that he’s forever found hard. He can be a lover who makes a night all about the other; he can be a protector, shielding and doing what is needed. 

It’s the parts after when he feels he clams up. A portion of him constantly weighing up risks, calculating the damage he could cause—either by a choice he could make or others—long before the city that housed Escobar. 

Javi knew his reluctance had stemmed from before he left Laredo, but it was now carved somewhere deeper in him. Something you managed to find with relative ease and cut out of him as if it was nothing. 

All smiles. All radiance and fucking beauty, with a laugh that could make his lips curl even if his bones are aching and his muscles are tired. 

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that he’s back there, in the hotel room. Because even if you’d never been here, your room is full of him. 

His bag of spilt-out clothes from your time together, slowly letting the scent of your perfume seep out across the room. Your jacket, hung on the closet handle, and the photos and sign you made on his dresser, all perfectly in sight. 

you have nice handwriting  I did try my best, sometimes I get lazy and letters blur together more.  I like how you wrote baby Does this mean I’ve got the whole set now? Cause you like how I say it, how I write it, how I mouth it. 

Even when he had known you’d needed to get some sleep, Javi had desperately wanted to beg you to stay up. Sending back a text here or there, already missing you so much more than he was sure he could handle. 

He felt lovesick. Like the singer in all those songs that make people either stare at a loved one or bite back tears because they lost theirs. Suddenly relating to a sea of them he’s heard on the radio in the kitchen or hummed in the back of his pop’s throat. 

Javi had been happy to see his pops, somewhat surprised he even came out of the house to greet him. But, as soon as his eyes landed on him, he became suddenly more aware of his old man’s age. Noticing the lines on his face, the ones that tell a thousand stories—not all of them he’s sure he’s heard. Curling into the hug he’d barely reciprocated before, unsure how to form the words to thank him for convincing him to go. 

Naturally, he asks about you. 

It’s more of an interrogation if he’s honest. He shows the photos, the ones now on his dresser, watching his pop smile as he continues to answer the array of questions, until he yawns for the tenth time in the space of five minutes.  

“You should get some sleep, Pop.” 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Javi. Tell me more about your lady.”

Your lady. 

Those two words stand out as if they’ve been illuminated in bulbs, twinkling and shimmering. 

now youre back in reality you sure about us  Never been more sure about anything, baby.  just wanted to check  You’re beginning to sound like me, worrying.  left a mark on me  Think that’s fair, you’ve left a lot on me too. Especially my chest.  

“Tomorrow. Promise. The drive took it out of me.” 

But Javi isn’t tired. 

Somehow, he had suspected he wouldn’t be the moment he watched you leave.

For longer than he cares to number, he's struggled with it. Had developed an unhealthy live-able balance of it when he was working, something he managed to keep as a prize in his return. 

Now, it’s different.

There’s an edge to it. As though he's now having to pay back the stolen sleep he enjoyed when he had been lay with you. When he slept with ease and not struggle. Leaving him feeling now like he’s in a lull, a dream. All aware, not in a daze anymore, noticing things he had never given much attention to before his trip out of town. 

You had been so warm, so soft. His fingers gliding up and down your side, soothing you as much as it was him. But, you slept with ease. Falling almost instantly once you'd stopped talking, a little jolt and a soft sigh punctuating it.

Fuck, he misses you.

Thumb and index pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Unsure how he's supposed to manage, and cope, until the next chance he gets to see you.

Till he gets to hold you in his arms, stare at your smile as it grows across your face or feels the light tap of your hand when he’s teasing you...

Something ugly curls inside of him. At first, soaked in sadness, before it shakes itself and burns bright with annoyance. Irritation. Anger at how unfair it all is. 

How is it, after all, he’s given up—he’s fallen for the one person not even in his state? A person he had to say goodbye to hours ago, for reasons out of his or their control. 

He almost snorts, unsure if it’s due to the tiredness or the reality that after all he’s faced, life would continue to be cruel and deal him such a hand. Tempted to get up, kick off the sheets and pull out the crossword from before he left town.

Javi doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, shaking his head—to no one but himself. Because he can't do them without you now. A promise, one given with ease.

He hears the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the trees. Something needling at him that if he wasn't so broken, this would be the perfect amount of quiet to fall asleep to.

Now, it's not the loud of a Colombian city he misses now. It's how your leg slides over his, how your breaths feel on his chest—how you twitch, ever so slightly, as you first fall asleep. 

But, it’s the quiet as to why he hears his phone vibrate, practically darting out of bed, knowing it can only be you. 

why aren’t you asleep?

Because I can't sleep without you. Apparently.

I miss you too. 

I really hate this. I even miss you digging your knee into my hip. 

told you that you’d miss it once it was gone

I feel like telling you that you’re right will mean your head will inflate.

youre right

One day, right?

if I could make that tomorrow I would

You really missing me that much? 

not enough words in the world to describe how much, baby 

Gonna make me cry. 

dont cry I can’t wipe them from here 

So not wise for me to tell you I cried the entire flight home. 

did the person you sit next to seem to mind 

They didn’t say anything until we landed. Then promptly told me that I deserved better. 

so they thought you were broken up with 

I think I may have led her to believe that from the amount I was crying. 

fuck you like me a lot 

I like you a regular, normal amount. 

I don’t think I like you a normal regular amount 

That’s the tiredness talking. 

you know it isnt 

I feel the same. I really miss you. 

I miss you too but you should try to sleep you have work tomorrow 

Okay, but so do you! 

ill be fixing a shed or a pen baby you have to deal with people 

go to sleep and then tomorrow we can call as planned 

You’d told him that you suspected the first day would be the hardest.

Not the goodbye (and that had been fucking painful) but the following day when they were apart. 

Javi hates that you’re right. 

It twists inside of him how much he loathes it—grateful that he gets to push some of his anger into repairing the side of the shed. Hammer meeting nail, again and again. Each time with more fury than is needed, only worrying after whether he’s done more damage to the shed post than pre. 

"Mijo."

He doesn't find a judgemental look, but one filled with sympathy.

His pop not quizzing him, just handing him a beer. A cold one, droplets descending down the can, sliding across his palm and down his wrist—attempting to soothe the boiling blood in his veins. 

“It’ll get easier.” His pop tugs his hat down, shielding his eyes, before staring off into the distance. “When me and your mama first began, we couldn’t see each other all the time either.” 

Letting out a sigh, Javi grinds his teeth. A sea of biting comments lathered on his tongue, all set to pounce, to poison. 

Instead, he kicks the ground, swallowing most of them back. “She wasn’t hundreds of miles away, though.” 

“No,” his Pop says, clapping his hand on his back—both for comfort and likely stability. “But we didn’t have landlines, or tha' other thing you do on y’phone. The tapping."

The tapping.

He doesn't snort, even if it sits at the back of his throat. Burying it in the liquid that slides down his throat with ease.

"Come on, ‘need to head into town, and my truck is acting up.” 

Javi doesn’t question it, why he’s the one sliding into the passenger seat of his own truck. 

If he’d thought about it, he’d have asked why the truck was acting up or why Pop was driving instead of him. But he doesn’t—didn’t. Just let it happen, staring off as the shades of grass pass him by, fingers playing with the cap on the can, twisting and twisting it. 

To fill the silence, he rolls the edges of the can around in his hands. Crunching the sides every now and again, making him wince from the noise. 

Then, he finds himself staring at the fingerprints left in the dust from you touching his dash—eyes catching sight of a hair grip on the floor near his boot. 

He’s rolling it in his fingers when they’re back on the road, silence smothering them until he watches his pop turn on the radio. As soon as it springs to life, it becomes desperate to try and cut through it. The broadcaster mumbles about heavy rain and increased traffic, but he’s lost in a sorrow of sadness all cast by the spell of a good week to care. The fog around him making it hard to see the wood through the trees, never mind the hope through the misery. 

“Dios mio. More trucks passing through now since the bridge opened. Y’noticed, mijo? So many.”

“Hmm.” 

Eyes fixed on the grip, the one more worn on one side than the other—imagining your face, the night when he’d watched you take them out, face fresh, one of his tees on your frame. 

Then, because the world isn’t cruel enough, the song changes. The radio playing a game with him now, as well as everything else, as he lifts his head, trying to focus on the road. Hearing the soft thud of his pop’s fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw tightened as the lyrics washed over him. Faintly hearing you humming along with the chorus.

Because he heard the song in the diner with you. 

Heard it on the radio one afternoon, then again in the bowling alley—how it wrapped its tune around the two of you. 

“Heard our song today,” he says, fingers massaging his temple.

He's thankful his pop said he had plans, the quietness settling over the rest of the ranch.

Before he met you, he dreaded the nights he was left alone. His thoughts gearing up, ready to pounce. The minor differences he could have made if he took a step back and stared at the facts, how he should have noticed how deep the corruption was—how much Colombia was taking from him, bit by bit. 

Now, he tries not to grin when his pop says he’s going out.

When he’s left alone, allowed full reign to talk as loud as he wants to you—rather than being huddled near the phone, whispering like a teenager. 

“Our song?” 

“Yeah.” 

Javi can practically hear you smirk. “And how does that go, charmer?” 

He’s not a singer. Not by a long shot, but he does his best. Humming the tune at first, softly singing the words from the chorus until he trails off.

You snort, before you try to muffle it in a cough. 

“You tricked me.” 

“Maybe. But, just because I wanted to hear you sing.” 

Smirking, he pulls the phone from his ear—shaking his head—before replacing it back to hear you add:

“You have a beautiful voice.” 

“Fuck you, baby.”  

Your laugh rips from you, hurtling down the phone right to his soul—making fireworks explode in his chest and warmth kiss his nerves. 

Because now he can imagine what you look like. Likely head thrown back, eyes closed—nose scrunched a little as your hands grip onto something for leverage. 

And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful—your laugh and your smile. Something he feels he should have said long before now. He’s about to rectify that, when he hears it merge into a sniffle—veering into tears and half-suppressed swallows before a noticeable little sob breaks through—as his throat dries instantly, closing. 

Turning, he places his palm on the fall as he tries to keep his chest from tightening. The knot in his chest, the one he suspects is tied to you in some way, constricts, pulling taught around his lungs.  

“I—I miss….”

You sniffle again, louder. “I've been looking forward to this all day,” you whisper, voice catching, words struggling to fall as sweetly as they usually do. “But, is it bad for me to say that phone calls aren’t the same now I’ve had the chance to be with you in person?”

Leaning his forehead against the kitchen wall, Javi wipes his chin. “Took the words outta my mouth, baby.”

He hears you chuckle, almost both heavily and heavenly, before you ask about his day. 

He rambles because it’s easy too. You listen, lapping up every single thing. Hearing about his trip to town, his pop making jokes—trying, desperately, to crack through the mist that had descended. 

“How was yours?” 

Then you sigh, all tight. You tell him about Aish and her interview, before your voice softens as you begin whispering about the prep you’re doing for your interview. He’s about to comfort you, when you continue about the asshole you work alongside has been taken out for lunch by your boss and that you snagged your favourite pair of tights on a desk.

“But, enough about that—guess what I’m wearing?”

Smiling, he bites down on his knuckle, Javi lifting his head, groaning as he tries to think. “All of your clothes at once? Anything else might short-circuit my brain.” 

“Won’t tell you then.” 

“No. Please. Tell me, baby.” 

He hears you move, and is almost sure he can hear you swallow. “You realise that you’re missing something, Javier?” 

Fuck, the way you say his name. How it drips from your tongue. Laced in lust and swirling down the phone line to his brain. 

He quickly tries to think of his washing, the piles he made—the attempted sorting. And it hits him. His eyes widened, head half-lifting, feeling his eye twitch. 

“Fuck—“

“Yes. I’m sat in that. And underwear, of course.” 

“Hermosa…”

His throat is dry, painfully so. Mind arranging an image of you from the days he spent with you. And fuck. 

“Wasn’t sure this shade of pink was my colour, but I was wrong.” 

Jutting his jaw, he closes his eyes—picturing the sight of you. The underwear he’d had the chance to peel off of you, the way it set against your skin—now, accompanied by his shirt on your arms. The buttons are likely undone, showing off more skin than he can currently process thinking about. 

“It’s nice on my skin,” you whisper, all honeyed. “Be better on my floor.” 

Clenching his fist, he bites his lip. “Baby…” 

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.” 

Snorting, he traces his teeth with his tongue. “You better. Now, tell me about the underwear.” 

“Only if you can answer six across. Clue: now.” 

Mouth parting, his jaw rolls to the side, eyes picking a spot on the wall. Thinking. And thinking. 

“Want an extra clue?” 

“An extra? You're spoiling me.” 

He hears you giggle, low and in your throat. “It’s an Italian word. And, ‘I want to see you… blank—“ 

His eyes flick up, a smile spreading. “Pronto.” 

“Correct,” you reply. “Seven words, silenced. You did this to me when you had your mouth on my—“

“Shushed,” he says quickly, fist clenching, trying to stare at the mark on the wall again, and not let the image of you populate in his head. 

“You okay, baby?” 

Gritting his teeth, he sighs. “You’re devious, you know that?” 

“I think it’s your shirt. It’s making me… flirty.” 

Grinning, he turns on the spot, back against the wall—head tilting up, eyes closing. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too….” your tone softer, frayed at the edges. “I’m kinda glad I stole your shirt.” 

“Me too. Means I get to see you to steal it back from you.” 

“Off me.” 

It comes out quickly—purposefully chosen, spilt. 

Frowning, he opens his eyes. “What?” 

“Off me. You’ll have to steal it from my body.” 

Grasping the phone, breathing through his nose, letting out a murmured, “Fuck, baby,” under his breath.  

AN: for all those wondering if they'll be together in person again, they will. i am a happily-ever-after kind of writer unless otherwise stated. but it was so important to me that they had a magical week, and then returned to their lives.

[solxamber]

Hiii cld u write smth about otto apocalypse X afab reader from the hitgame honkai impact 3rd 😛😛 LIKE LORD THERE BARELY ANY FICS ABOUT THIS MAN I WANT HIM SO BAD AKAUDGEHDHJEID

Confession Impossible - Otto Apocalypse x reader

3 Times Otto Apocalypse tries to confess and the 1 time he succeeds

Did not expect my first ask from hi3 to be otto (absolutely expected it to be Mei or Elysia) but i was pretty excited lol. I hope you like it <3

It wasn’t often that Otto Apocalypse found himself out of his depth, but here he was, pacing around the plush living room of Kallen’s apartment like a man who’d lost all sense of control. The usually composed and sly mastermind was currently dealing with an issue far beyond all his machinations and manipulations.

The issue in question? You.

And of course, Kallen was sitting there on the couch, watching him with barely contained amusement. Sakura sat next to her, offering a soft smile, sympathy practically radiating off her.

“This is torture,” Otto muttered, running a hand through his hair. He stopped pacing, staring down at Kallen. “I’ve faced down empires, altered time itself, and yet… this.”

“You’re lovesick,” Kallen said simply, a broad grin spreading across her face.

“Hopelessly,” Sakura added sympathetically, shooting him a look that was all empathy.

Otto shot them both a glare. “You’re supposed to help me.”

“We are helping,” Kallen replied, lounging back and crossing one leg over the other. “This is our version of tough love.”

Otto let out an exasperated sigh. He turned toward the window, peering out at the cityscape below. Somewhere out there, you were living your life, blissfully unaware of his current plight. For all his intelligence, charisma, and centuries of life, you remained an enigma. He could manipulate entire realities, but getting you to understand that he liked you? Impossible.

“You’re overthinking it,” Kallen piped up, and Otto turned back toward her.

“How am I supposed to approach this?” he asked, exasperation clear in his tone. “Every time I drop a hint, she just—she doesn’t get it! How can someone be so… oblivious?”

“Well,” Kallen said, snickering, “maybe your hints are more convoluted than you think.”

Sakura nodded, offering a small smile. “Perhaps she’s simply not expecting a confession from you. You don’t exactly have the… softest reputation.”

Kallen barked a laugh at that. “Yeah, maybe try toning down the scheming vibes next time you try.”

Otto’s lips thinned into a line. “I’m not scheming. I’m…” He trailed off, trying to find the right word. “I’m being subtle.”

Kallen and Sakura exchanged a glance.

“Sure, subtle,” Kallen said with a wink.

Sakura gently patted his shoulder. “Maybe subtle isn’t your best approach, Otto.”

Otto let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He pointed at Kallen accusingly, voice dipping to whine"The only reason you can sit there and mock me is because you're married to Sakura. If you weren't, you'd be in the same boat as me, suffering like the rest of us!."

Sakura nodded sagely, "Love does make a fool of us all."

Kallen simply grinned, resting her head on Sakura's shoulder. :Perks of being off the market, dear Otto."

He sighed again, feeling defeated. How was it that even when he planned everything out perfectly, you still managed to remain blissfully unaware of his intentions? He supposed that was part of the charm—you didn’t fall for his usual tricks. You were something else entirely.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try again.

The first time Otto tried to confess to you, it was over lunch. You had agreed to meet him at a quaint little café near your apartment, completely unaware that Otto had spent hours agonizing over how to word his feelings in a way you would pick up on. In his mind, this would be simple. He would drop a compliment, you’d catch it, and it would all progress from there. Easy.

“Wow, this place is nice,” you remarked, looking around the café with wide eyes. “Thanks for inviting me, Otto. I needed this break.”

“My pleasure,” he replied smoothly, trying to maintain his composure. His heart was pounding, but outwardly, he remained the picture of calm and collected. “You deserve to unwind.”

You smiled at him, and his heart fluttered. This was it. He could feel it.

“By the way,” Otto began, lowering his voice slightly to make the moment feel more intimate, “have I told you how… radiant you look today?”

You blinked at him, your expression turning quizzical. “Radiant?”

“Yes,” Otto said, trying to keep the conversation flowing smoothly. “Radiant, as in glowing. You have a certain… light about you.”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Did they change the lightbulbs in here?”

Otto stared at you for a long second, completely taken off guard. “What?”

“You said I was glowing,” you said, glancing around. “I thought maybe the lighting in here was brighter or something.”

He blinked. “No. No, I meant you were glowing.”

“Oh,” you said, then laughed. “Thanks, Otto, that’s sweet. It must be the highlighter I’m wearing. I tried this new brand. It’s got, like, these shimmer particles, or whatever.” You tapped your cheekbones proudly.

Otto’s internal scream could’ve shattered the entire building. “Yes… of course.”

Otto decided that his next attempt had to be a bit grander. Clearly, subtlety wasn’t your thing, so he aimed for something more… obvious. He planned everything meticulously. He would surprise you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a small note tucked inside, detailing his feelings. It was a tried-and-true method, foolproof.

The execution? Well, not so much.

You had come to visit him at his office, and when you entered, you were immediately met with the sight of Otto standing there, holding an enormous bouquet of roses.

You blinked. “Whoa, that’s… a lot of flowers.”

Otto smiled, confidence radiating from him. “They’re for you.”

Your eyes widened. “For me? But… why?”

It was time. The moment had arrived.

“Because I wanted to show you how much you mean to me,” he said, keeping his tone soft and sincere. “You have this way of brightening my day, and—”

“Wait,” you interrupted, your face suddenly filling with guilt. “Oh no, did I forget my birthday? Is today my birthday?”

Otto nearly choked on air. “No—”

“My God, it’s not my birthday,” you continued, talking more to yourself than him. “Then… Oh no, it’s not *your* birthday, is it? Oh no, did I completely forget—”

“No,” Otto said, more forcefully this time, shaking his head. “It’s not a birthday. I’m trying to—”

“Oh! Is this, like, a holiday thing? I’ve been kind of out of it lately. If this is for some special day, I’ll feel really bad for not getting you anything.”

Otto clenched his teeth, trying his best not to let his exasperation show. “It’s not a holiday, either. I’m trying to confess—”

“Oh! Confess what?” you asked innocently, eyes wide and curious. “Did something go wrong?”

He stared at you, deadpan, as if you’d grown a second head. “Yes,” he finally muttered. “Something has gone terribly wrong.”

After two failed attempts, Otto was determined to make this one work. This time, he wasn’t going to leave anything up to chance. He had planned a grand dinner at a private location—an elegant setup with candles, roses, and the perfect atmosphere for a confession.

The food was meticulously chosen, the wine aged to perfection. Nothing could go wrong.

Except, of course, everything went wrong.

The evening started well enough. You had agreed to meet him at the secret garden, a stunning venue that Otto had carefully prepared. As you arrived, your eyes widened at the sight of the romantic setup.

“Wow,” you breathed, taking in the scene. “This is beautiful, Otto.”

Otto smiled, feeling a surge of confidence. “I’m glad you like it. Tonight is… special.”

You nodded, eyes still sparkling with awe. “Yeah, this definitely looks special. Are we celebrating something? Did you win another crazy battle against fate or something?”

Otto suppressed the urge to sigh. “No. This is not about battles or fate. This is about—”

But before he could finish his sentence, there was a sudden, loud bang followed by a spray of wine. Somehow, the bottle he’d carefully selected and opened just moments ago had exploded, soaking both of you in red wine.

You yelped, wiping the wine from your face, your hair now sticky with the liquid. “Oh my God! Otto, are you okay?”

Otto stood there, drenched, his face a perfect picture of disbelief. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”

You gave him a hesitant smile. “This is… uh, a very memorable evening.”

Otto stared at you, feeling the last remnants of his carefully planned evening slipping through his fingers. “That’s one way to put it.”

The night was officially a disaster, and despite his best efforts to recover, Otto’s attempt at confessing was once again derailed. By the time dessert arrived, you were too busy trying to wring out your dress to notice Otto’s barely concealed frustration.

By now, Otto was at the end of his rope. Subtlety didn’t work, elaborate gestures were a failure, and fate seemed to enjoy playing cruel tricks on him. So, he resolved to take the simplest, most straightforward route. No more games. No more grand plans.

He would just tell you.

You met Otto in the garden again, though this time the atmosphere was much more relaxed. No grand dinners, no candles—just a quiet, serene walk beneath the stars. Otto glanced at you, steeling himself for what was about to come.

You were chatting casually, oblivious to the tension building inside him. Finally, Otto stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His eyes were intense, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something more desperate.

“Listen,” Otto began, his voice a bit more strained than usual. “I can’t keep doing this.”

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “Doing what?”

“This!” He gestured vaguely, frustration leaking into his tone. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve complimented you, I’ve given you flowers, I’ve set up dinners… and yet, you still don’t understand.”

You stared at him, completely confused. “Understand what?”

Otto took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I like you. No—I love you. Romantically. I’ve been trying to tell you for what feels like forever, but you never seem to get it.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait… you… love me?”

“Yes,” Otto said, exasperated. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! How could you not have noticed?”

“I thought…” you trailed off, looking flustered. “I thought you were just being nice. Or maybe playing one of your weird games.”

Otto groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why would I go through all this trouble if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

You stood there in stunned silence for a moment, processing his words. Then, suddenly, you smiled—bright and genuine. “Wow. I didn’t expect this.”

Otto stared at you, completely dumbfounded. “You didn’t expect this?”

“Nope,” you said with a chuckle. “But… I guess I should’ve known. I mean, now that I think about it, you have been acting kind of weird.”

Otto threw his hands up in the air. “Exactly!”

You giggled softly, stepping closer to him. “I’m sorry, Otto. I didn’t realize. But… for what it’s worth, I like you too.”

Otto’s breath caught in his throat. “You do?”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “Yeah. I just… never thought you’d be interested in me like that.”

Otto stared at you for a long moment, his heart pounding in his chest. Without thinking, he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair.

“I’ve been interested in you for a long time,” he whispered, his voice softer now. “I’m just glad you finally got the message.”

You hugged him back, resting your head against his chest. “Sorry it took me so long.”

Otto smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Better late than never.”

For once, everything felt right. No more schemes, no more plans—just you and him, standing together beneath the stars.

Kallen was going to laugh at him for weeks, but in this moment, Otto didn’t care. You were in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

Now, if only he could figure out how to plan your first date without accidentally making it look like another elaborate plot.

Maybe Kallen had a point. He really did need to work on his approach.

Masterlist

[st-eve-barnes]

Pretty little liars (chapter 2)

(Felix Catton x fem Reader)

Summary: Felix Catton was the embodiment of everything you hated, yet you loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another. But as with all good things, you didn't know what you had until it was stolen from you.

This Chapter: You give into your feelings for Felix and Saltburn takes over your life.

Word count: +2400

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Enemies to lovers vibes. Oral (fem & male receiving), p in v sex, fingering, ... Jealousy, voyeurism, secrets, toxic relationships, mentions of death. Oliver being his creepy little self.

ANGST/smut/fluff (do I ever write anything else? lol)

Masterlist for this fic

***

All these and older fics are also on AO3 If you want to support my writing you can Buy me a KoFi or feed me with a lovely comment ;)

***

Just a few weeks ago you had zero interest in Felix Catton.

Right now you wished you had a time machine so you could travel back to that last moment where he meant absolutely nothing to you.

How quickly your irritation had evolved into infatuation, to the point where he now walked around in your head as if he owned the place.

And it wasn’t just Felix who had taken over. Saltburn was in your head now too.

There was no turning back.

You walked through the grass of the estate barefoot that afternoon. You had skipped a few parties, forcing yourself to put some distance between yourself and this place, but it kept calling you back. 

There was a quietness behind these walls you couldn’t find anywhere else. When you were here it was almost as if the rest of the world seized to exist and in this new world everything was perfect and shiny and beautiful all the time. 

Saltburn offered you an escape, it allowed you to disappear and be someone else. Someone better than who you actually were.

And it allowed you to be where Felix was.

You found him by the water, sitting by himself, playing with the grass and smoking his cigarette.

It was useless to keep lying to yourself, there was not a single soul in here you wanted to be near. Except for him. You were under his spell, blinded by his light and drawn to it at the same time. Like a moth to a flame. You made your way over and without saying a single word sat down next to him on the grass.

He was barefoot, like you, only wearing shorts and a colorful shirt, one that matched your orange summer dress. He didn’t say anything but the corners of his mouth curled up into a barely noticeable smirk at seeing you here.

He took one long drag from his cigarette and then handed it to you.

Without even thinking you put your lips to it and breathed, ignoring the fact that you were a non smoker. You burst out in a coughing fit as soon as the smoke hit your lungs.

Felix laughed and gently slapped you on the back.“Don’t choke on it, new girl,” he teased.

You gave him back the cigarette. You weren’t even sure why you accepted it in the first place.

That was a lie. You knew exactly why. Because it was his, because it was a way to feel closer to him, because you would take whatever scraps he was willing to give you.

It was pathetic and you would never admit it to anyone, least of all to yourself.

“Stop calling me new girl,” you then teased him,”I’ve been coming here for over a month now, find something more original.”

“Okay, don’t choke on it, annoying girl,” he rolled his eyes at you.

You hadn’t meant to laugh but you couldn’t help yourself and when Felix joined you the tension broke almost instantly. You dared to turn your head to look at him. As soon as your eyes met the tension was back, but it was a different kind now.

“You came back,” Felix stated softly and you nodded.

“Felt like I didn’t have a choice.”

“Why is that?”

“This place seems to have some magnetic pull on me, I can’t seem to shake it no matter how hard I try.”

Felix stared into your eyes, lips curling up into a small grin again,”Just this place?”

You stared right back at him, allowing yourself to drown into those deep brown eyes while you shook your head.”No, not just the place,” you confessed,”You.”

Felix’s hand moved to the small of your back, eyes never leaving yours as he guided you forward and into his lap. It was so easy to just follow his lead, let his big hands mold you and place you exactly where he wanted you. Legs straddled on either side of him, his forehead resting gently against yours, a gesture too delicate for two people who didn’t like each other all that much.

Or was that just another lie you told yourself?

“Come here,” he whispered, cupping your cheek to pull you in and kiss you. Soft, slow, greedy. His thumb tracing your jaw and your neck in the process until you finally melted into him and kissed him back.

“Who are you, annoying girl?” he breathed into the kiss.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you teased him.

Felix shut you up with another kiss.

***

It would be a lie to say you didn’t want to fuck him after that. Of course you did. You were no longer immune to his charm or his affections towards you. But more than anything you just wanted to be his friend, be around him, share in his light and his warmth.

And Felix was generous with both, especially towards you. 

You didn’t sleep with him at first, not even after he’d started taking you up to his room to escape the others and spend more time alone with you.

You’d watch movies, read books and laugh. And kiss. You could kiss him for hours and not do anything else, or need anything else.

The end credits of The talented Mr Ripley were playing on the tv screen in front of you. You and Felix were both leaning against the headboard of his king sized bed, the windows open to let in the soft summer breeze. Felix’s hand was resting casually on your knee while he was chatting about the movie.

“All I’m saying is sometimes people don’t have layers, sometimes…we are exactly what everyone thinks we are,” Felix stated.

“Do you really believe that? I think everyone has layers, even the people you wouldn’t expect it from. Especially the people you wouldn’t expect it from.”

He smiled down at you but shook his head.”People are simple.”

“People are complicated,” you disagreed,”You can’t just take one look at someone and read their entire personality.”

“But sometimes you can though.”

“But that’s just prejudice based on cliches.”

“And cliches exist because they are based on truth.”

You gave him a look but he didn’t budge.

“Alright, take me for example," he continued,"It didn’t take you that long to figure me out, did it?”

You shook your head with a smile,”Felix Catton, I still haven’t figured you out.”

He laughed,”But you have. You pegged me as a spoilt, ignorant, rich kid who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter, who goes through life like it’s a fucking breeze. And…I can’t even argue with it because I am exactly that.”

“But you are more than that, Felix.”

“Just because you want me to be doesn’t make it so. What if this is it? What if there are no layers?”

You covered his large hand with your small one and squeezed softly while shaking your head.

“So you’re a walking cliche, got it,” you teased and much to your relief it made him smile.

“What about me?” you then asked,”What cliche am I?”

He immediately shook his head,“Oh no, I'm not getting in trouble by answering that question."

“Come on, I won’t be offended,” you looked into his eyes,”Tell me who I am.”

“Okay,” he nodded and took a moment before he answered,”You’re the girl who tries very hard to be different from other girls while deep down you’re dying to be just like them.”

Your smile faded at his words and Felix shook his head,”See? I’m in trouble.”

“No, you're not,” you reassured him,”Tell me more.”

“You’re constantly torn between wanting to stand out or wanting to fit in, wanting to be seen and noticed or wanting to be invisible and not be perceived by anyone. Sometimes…it’s like you’re performing, because you think it’s what people want from you.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, taking his time to take you all in.”It's not what I want from you."

You stared at him.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, carefully.

"For you to not be afraid to show me...what's underneath."

"What if you don't like what's underneath?"

Felix gave you a soft smile,"I can’t see anything I won’t like about you, Y/N.”

You returned his smile but shook your head.

Oh, but you will.

You didn’t speak those words out loud but your heart was pounding so heavily you were sure he had to hear it as well.

But he just continued,“The truth is I can’t figure you out for the life of me. And it drives me fucking insane because I really, really want to.”

He moved over you on the bed, placing himself in between your legs, his face level with yours as he looked deep into your eyes. The mood in the entire room changed.

“There’s a darkness in you,” he spoke softly,”You hide it well but it’s there…I can feel it. And I...I can’t look away from it."

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, opening you up to him."I want to drown in it," he whispered,"And in you.”

His mouth devoured yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

This one was different from all the kisses you’d shared with him before, there was a possessiveness to it that shook you to the core.

You’d kissed him back with that same fire, pushing at his shirt to take it off, your hands caressing his back, his shoulders, his ass, any piece of him you could grab hold of.

Felix moaned into your mouth when you wrapped your legs around him, dragging him closer. His large hands moved over your stomach to push up your summer dress and help you lift it up over your head, leaving you almost completely bare for him.

Then he was kissing your neck, your nipples, your stomach and your thighs. Your underwear was pulled from you, replaced by his mouth and his tongue circling your clit and invading your walls until you soaked his bed, his name a desperate plea on your lips, begging for more.

And once again he was generous, giving you what you’d been craving for a while now, both of you desperately pulling at his shorts to free his cock.

And then he was fucking you, slowly and thoroughly, soothing away your last doubts and fears one thrust at a time.

Your life without Felix Catton was a thing of the past now.

***

You’d started spending the night more often after that. You didn’t always fuck, sometimes you still just watched movies together or read, you at one side of the bed and Felix on the other.

You had barely seen Bella lately, she was always occupied with Oliver. It seemed unhealthy but then weren’t you doing the exact same thing with Felix? You realized you were in no position to judge her so you didn’t and the contact between you two faded.

The summer seemed to drag on forever, so did the heat. Your life outside of Saltburn became smaller and smaller, sometimes you weren’t even sure if you still existed outside of these walls.

You were there almost every day now. There was an extra plate at the breakfast table for you, even though you had never asked for it.

Life was good. Surreal. You couldn’t see the cracks yet, even though they were right there in front of you, if only you had paid attention.

You sank down deeper into the bathtub, Felix’s bathtub, closing your eyes and letting the water overtake you for just a moment. It was past midnight, the only lights in the room the candles Felix had lit for you a little earlier.

He would be passed out on the bed by now. He had insisted you take all the alone time you needed to relax and then join him for the night.

It was quiet in Saltburn, and even though the bath was cooling you down sweat was already forming on your forehead again. You were starting to feel a little claustrophobic so you carefully stepped out of the bath to open a window.

It was only then that you noticed the door was ajar. Not the door to Felix’s room but the door that lead to one of the connecting guest rooms. It was probably just the wind you had created yourself by opening the window but it made you feel unnerved anyway. You grabbed a towel to cover yourself up and slowly stepped closer to the door. You could have sworn you’d seen something move and while you couldn’t be sure the cold chill running down your spine was telling you someone had been watching you this entire time.

“You done here?”

You jumped and let out a scream when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Whoa, hey, it’s just me,” Felix reassured you, lifting up both hands in defense,”Don’t scream like that, love, you’ll wake everyone up.”

“God, fuck, sorry, you startled me.”

”That’s some guilty conscience to make you jump like that,” he teased but you ignored his comment.

You reached out to grab his shirt and Felix didn’t hesitate to pull you into a warm, solid hug.”Hey, you’re okay, babe, everything’s alright,” he soothed you in a sweet voice, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“What’s back there?” you asked softly,”Behind that door.”

“That door?” Felix asked surprised,”That’s just Ollie’s room.”

“Oliver? He shares a bathroom with you?”

“Yeah, he probably just forgot to lock it before he went to sleep,” Felix let go of you to close the door.”See, no harm done, it happens,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t shake the bad feeling in the pit of your stomach but you didn’t feel it was your place to comment on it beyond that. After all you hadn’t actually seen anything and it was probably just your imagination or the wind. 

Oliver was a good guy, he wouldn't do something like that, you still believed that at the time. There was nothing to worry about.

“Hey,” Felix cupped your cheek and locked eyes with you,”You’re too tense, babe. Come on, I can take care of that.”

He leaned in to place a few playful kisses in your neck while his hands moved down your sides, pulling your towel with him until it ended up on the floor and you were naked in his arms.

"Oops," he smirked.

“Felix,” you giggled.

“Get on my bed, princess, now,” he teased and then slapped your ass before following you back to his bedroom.

Felix made sure you didn't think about Oliver again that night, or the days after that and you happily let yourself forget all about the wandering eyes behind that bathroom door.

[irlplasticlamb]

as someone who lives alone: i won't lie, it can be lonely. it can be hard, especially when it comes to money. it's difficult sometimes, to wake up alone and to go to bed alone. but i have to remind myself that i can fill the silence with my friends' laughter, i can fill it with singing, by playing my most favorite album on repeat as many times as i want. i can cook what i want when i want. my pets never want to leave me alone, and occasionally it gets a little annoying even though i'd be lost without them, but it's lovely to know that they're that excited to see me regardless of seeing me every day. minus the confines of my job, i can go to sleep when i want and wake up when i want and don't have to worry about interrupting someone else's sleeping schedule. i decorate my place how i want, whether it is with art of my favorite characters or my favorite books, it is solely my own choice for my own comfort and my own joy. i can let the dishes build up a little in the sink and wait a day to fold the laundry. i can cry for however long i need to. i can come home after a terrible day at work and have the silence be a blessing rather than a curse. mostly, i can allow myself to realize these feelings for what they are and feel them, even when i don't want to. and i remind myself that this is not forever, it is just for right now, and i am building a life for myself that is my own, not tied around someone else's while i am still learning & growing. my heart aches - for it all, yes, but mainly because this is something i have built for myself. i remind myself that it is precious, that it is mine.

hi hello! i just wanted to thank you (from the very bottom of my heart) for this wonderful heartfelt message! you’re so kind to spend so much time writing a message to silly stranger on the internet and i appreciate it so much :)

you actually described everything i LOVE about living on my own — my silly little problem is that after i moved back to poland i’ve been living with my parents and had to postpone moving out so many times because renting an apartment here if you’re a single person is SO hard (rent for studio flats is fucking ridiculous and even finding a place that’s somewhat liveable and isn’t trying to rip you off is miraculous)

i’m lucky that some of my lovely friends live a short bus trip away but most of them moved out years ago and it’s three hours by train to see them (why haven’t we invented teleportation yet fuck ai image generators make me a teleportation machine). i currently live in a small polish village and after living in cities for the past five years Vic Yearns For Cafes

also being a lesbian in rural poland sucks because it’s nearly impossible to meet someone and Vic Also Yearns For A Kiss hahah

so anyways long story short i wanted to thank you again for taking time out of your day to message me and i love y’all a lot and i’m sending all the best vibes and shit :) ❗️❗️❗️

[evelyn-is-eccedentesiasts]

ISTG, I just stumbled upon your page and I don’t understand how I didn’t find you earlier, one of the best pages I’ve EVER seen.

I was wondering if you could do Lloyd garmadon dating headcanons with the reader being the overlords daughter with darkness elemental???

@idfkeatdust Totally, I'll do my best anyway.

Lloyd Garmadon (Headcanons x Reader) {Overlords Daughter}

Confession

As the daughter of the Overlord, I doubt you knew you're parentage. But later found out. Unfortunately, it was right in front of your crush. The Green Ninja HIMSELF the same man that's already defeated your father once before. In that moment you probably see Lloyd's eyes darken. With a look of betrayal on his face. Part of him wants to hate you but yet he can't. It's too late..

In your defence you didn't know the Overlord was your father.

Although your powers should have been a dead giveaway looking back on it...

Purple energy spilling from your fingers. Tendrils of darkness pulling at all light around. The Darkness has a heaviness to it, it could suffocate and consume all that it touches. Yet it is kept in check by the swirling green coming from Lloyd's fingers and hands. His eyes are locked on yours.

You flinch as you expect harsh words, even accusations. But the words that fall from his mouth are.

"Do you like me? Please just tell me so I don't feel like a total idiot..."

Dating

Dating the Green Ninja can be a bit difficult. Afterall there isn't much free time to be seen. When you do have free time you're often flocked by a lot of people.

Which is why you and Lloyd will often dress in disguises when you go out. Incognito if you will, this assures that you and Lloyd could, enjoy your time together without being interrupted.

People are a little wary of you. But Lloyd ensures that you are never treated harshly by the city, and are not blamed for your Father's actions. In a way both of you are in the same boat, Evil dads but good kids.

If you guys aren't able to go out on dates, maybe due to time or something else. Lloyd will make sure to set up cute at home dates. Building pillow forts and cuddling in them, movie night, craft night, making food, or even dancing in the courtyard.

Jealousy

Lloyd probably isn't that jealous, but he is protective. If you're talking with someone that gives him bad vibes. He'll come over and put his chin on top of your head or shoulder. While making intense eye contact with the person. When the person hurries off. Lloyd will just shurg and say,

"Hm, he had to hurry off somewhere,"

The entire time he has a very innocent look on his face. As if he wasn't owl staring at, the person moments before.

Affection

Lloyd shows affection in different ways. He'll rustling your hair. Give you hugs from behind. He'll bring you treats from the kitchen when you're in your room. Cuddling in a pile of blankets is an absolute must.

[sitp-recs]

Hey liv! :) Do you know any Drarry fics with "i'm addicted to you" vibes?

Hi anon! Ahh yes, love myself some chaotic obsessive vibes for those two. It’s about the utter desperation 🤌🏼 I hope you enjoy these, I’ve also heard great things about Liar by jad, if you’re okay with Hinny and Drastoria infidelity I think it would be a good fit for your ask.

Phoenix in the Fire by @fw00shy (E, 1.4k)

Their first time was an accident. "Sex pollen," Draco claims, though everyone knows it was too much Ogden's after Puddlemere beat the Tornados 240-230. "He's like a vengeful sex demon after he's lost," Harry confesses in the privacy of Hermione's kitchen. "A lustful, bitter jackhammer."

Cigarettes Will Kill You by Femme (E, 4k)

He lights a cigarette across the pub, his hand cupped to his mouth as the tip sparks to life in a faint orange flare, and my breath catches.

When You and I Collide by @bixgirl1 (E, 6k)

If asked on his 18th birthday what he thought he’d be doing in three years, Harry never would have been able to predict that his answer would be “letting Draco Malfoy fuck me senseless over the sinks in the loo of a Muggle bar”. This is how the story begins. He never thinks to ask how it ends.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Bored and annoyed, the two take up tabloid baiting for sport and pleasure.

The Things They Never Say by @bixgirl1 (E, 9k)

Harry and Draco don't know how to talk. So they do other things instead.

I'll never be your chosen one by @andithiel (E, 15k)

Draco doesn't know what exactly he’s doing with Potter, he doesn't know how their unspoken agreement even started, and doesn't know where it will end. The only thing he knows is: he's not in love.

Watch The Castles Burn by @moonflower-rose (E, 21k)

Draco Malfoy knows better than to get involved with Harry Potter. If only someone would have reminded him of that six months sooner, then maybe he wouldn't be in quite such a large mess.

Touch Me Fall by @lqtraintracks (E, 23k)

Malfoy was such a ponce. And he was a complete snob. And he was so fucking fit Harry wanted to jump him where he sat. It would be too easy to forget his objective tonight: to really, really, really get Malfoy out of his system.

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious (E, 23k)

Harry thinks he knows how his life will go: Become an Auror. Marry Ginny. Have a family. But then he sees an advertisement in the paper that no one else can see, and his life is turned upside-down. The Broom Closet: you can be anyone you want while you're there, but you won't remember it in the morning.

Your Place or Mine? By @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 27k)

"This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?"

In The Red by @bixgirl1 (E, 45k)

When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there. The last thing he expects is to fall in love with him.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Finely Drawn Lines by @the-sinking-ship (E, 61k)

Draco doesn’t consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus. From the curl of his lips to the exact number of lines that form at the corners of his eyes when he laughs, Draco has catalogued every shade of one Harry James Potter between the pages of his sketchbook. So long as Potter remains none the wiser, Draco will have no trouble controlling his crush.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 68k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

Tales From the Special Branch by Femme (E, WIP)

This is a five-story arc about an Auror Special Branch unit whose core members are Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. I can promise endgame Drarry, but, let's face it, there are going to be a lot of up and downs on the way

[littlespacereader]

I’m finally up to date with Doctor Who and I literally love the 15th Doctor and his vibe so much that I literally whipped this together in a day. I’m thinking of possibly making this a mini series like my Supernatural fic and just keep adding to it. Let me know what you think!! Please enjoy💞

The Cafe Caregiver ☕️🍼🍪

Caregiver!Fifteenth Doctor & GN Little!Reader (SFW)

Tags - regression refusal/acceptance, sippy cups, fluff, cybermen (at the end), cookies, the doctor has a thousand nicknames for you, he just finds you adorable, you wear his coat

Nicknames - darling, little one, sweetheart, munchkin, pumpkin, sweet one, love

Some people don’t understand that when it comes to a Little regressing, it isn’t always convenient or vise versa we want to regress but don’t have the time to do so.

I’m sadly the latter of the two options. I’ve spent the last four years in college, sometimes regressing at night after long tiring classes. Now right out of college I’ve been running from job to job, with little to no time to regress.

Regression, well, it started to become an afterthought. Not that I wanted it to, but life didn’t seem to be giving me an opportunity to pause and breathe enough to regress and relax.

Tonight was no different. I just finished another long and tiring work day at the office. Since I’m new I get the pleasure of staying super late, even after everyone else leaves. The life of an intern.

I was making my way down the building to head back to my flat. But I paused in the lobby, looking through the big tall windows at the pouring rain outside.

There was no rain in the forecast? How did I miss this? I mean I only have myself to blame. It’s London, of course it’s raining. And better yet, of course I don’t have a rain coat or umbrella or even a coat to help me stay warm.

So here I was, running like a wet dog down the side way, trying to catch the last bus to my apartment. I ran and I ran and I ran, as fast as my legs would take me down the dark sidewalk illuminated only by the street lamps.

My bus stop was in sight and better yet, my bus was parked right next to the sign. I waved my hands like crazy and yelled out to the bus to stay for just a second longer. But I watched as the bus took off.

I just froze and watched as my bus grew smaller and smaller into the distance. I stood, in the empty bus stop, in the pouring rain, with no jacket to keep me warm and no way home. I was completely in awe of the events.

I honestly wanted to cry. I just wanted to stomp my feet and start crying. But I couldn’t, not yet. I pushed my regression down for a moment. I need a place to gather my thoughts and figure out what I was going to do. But most importantly I needed to get out of the rain.

It was hard to see with the rain coming down as hard as it was. Plus it was late, most shops had turned in for the night.

Just as it felt as though all hope was lost, I spotted a tiny shop across the street with its lights still on. So checking both ways before crossing, I ran across the street and over to the cafe.

The door flung open with a little ding of the bell on top announcing my presence to everyone inside. That…being…no one. The cafe was shockingly empty. You would think it would be full of people like myself trying to escape the rain.

I wiped my feet as best as I could on the mat, I made my way over to the counter. I wrapped my arms infront of me, trying desperately to keep myself somewhat warm. But it was hard to when I was soaking wet and they had the ac on for some reason. Needless to say I started to shiver badly.

I stopped at the counter and looked around. There was no one to be seen. The place was empty. There was no one at the front and there was no noise of people working in the back. The place would’ve been silent if it wasn’t for the soft music playing from a radio on the counter.

There was a bell on the counter next to the register. Maybe they really didn’t know someone was at the front? Just when I went to hit the tiny bell…

Ding!

The bell to the front door dings as a man enters the cafe He paused at the door and takes in my soaked form. Then he said something that made my heart sink and my body freeze.

“Little one, what happened to you?” He asked so genuinely concerned.

I just stared back at I’m utter shock. No one in my life knows about my regression, no one. And here he was saying it so out in the open as if I had a name tag that said “Y/N, a Regressor”

“What?” I asked as my brain started to spiral out. Maybe I just heard him wrong. Maybe I was imagining things.

“Why are you soaking wet? You’re going to catch a cold! Here,” He pulled off his long tan leather coat and draped it across my shoulder. “This should keep you warm.”

He talked with such a gentle and caring tone. He spoke as if he had knew me for years. The coat felt so warm and cozy around my frozen figure. It was almost like a weighted heating blanket.

Finally I found the courage to talk out of my shock, “I didn’t know it was going to rain.” I said with a voice that sounded so small and vulnerable.

“Didn’t-Didn’t know it was going to rain? In London?” He chuckled. “Darling how long have you been here? It’s always going to rain in London. It’s hard to have a clear day here.”

“I…I didn’t remember to bring an umbrella.” I looked down as I tried to stop myself from crying. There was something about the man that just made me start to regress immediately, like the straw that broke the camels back. I felt like I couldn’t hold back anymore. Especially not after everything that’s happened up till this.

“Oh. Oh sweetheart it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re okay. Come here.” He held his arms out for me and I immediately went into them.

He wrapped me in a tight hug as I just cried into the man’s neck. He rubbed my back and rocked me as he whispered reassurance to me. “It’s okay darling. It’s okay. You’re safe, I promise.”

After letting all the terrible and sad emotions out, I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked back at the kind man. He smiled with a warm look of compassion and kindness. He caressed my cheek and wiped the tears away.

“I’m sorry,” I started to say.

“There’s no need to be.”

“I’ve…I’ve just had a horrible day. My job keeps me so late unnecessarily, I didn’t know it was going to rain so I’m soaked, my bus left me here and now I…I don’t know what to do.” I cried to him. I shook my head as more tears fell.

“You don’t need to worry any longer about any of that. We’re going to get you warmed up and back home safe in no time. Okay?” He smiled moving his hands from holding my face to holding my hands in his.

I nodded my head and squeezed his hands back. For having just met the Caregiver I felt an overwhelming feeling of safety with him.

“But for now I have to ask, it’s been a while since you’ve regressed hasn’t it?”

I nodded again, feeling almost ashamed at the admission.

He hummed in agreement, “You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m here to help make it all better Little one. You just regress and I’ll take care of everything else okay?”

Oh God how I wanted to scream yes, how I wanted to just start crying again because someone could see me for what I was, which is an overwhelmed Regressor.

But I settled for a nod again and a small smile.

But there was still some unanswered questions that stopped me for a moment. For example, “Wait,” I squeezed his hand again. “How did you know?”

“Know what darling?”

“That I’m a Regressor? How did you know?” I mean this guy literally just walked in, looked at me and immediately was like “Oh look a Regressor!”

“Where I’m from regression isn’t something so hidden or lesser known than you think. Truth be told I haven’t seen a Regressor like yourself in a long time. It was a refreshing change seeing you. I guess the Caregiver side of me couldn’t stop itself from helping. I’m sorry if I was a bit to forward.”

I shook my head, “No, don’t be. I think your just what I needed, especially after everything.”

He smiled, “Good, I’m honored to be.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I’m the Doctor,” he smiled, “What’s your name sweet one?”

“I’m Y/N.”

“It’s lovely to meet you Y/N. Now, let’s get something warm in you. My coat is warm but it’s not enough to keep a cold away.”

With my hand in his, he lead me back to the abandoned counter of the cafe. “I think a nice cup of tea would be good for the both of us don’t you think?”

He stopped and looked around the quiet cafe. I chimed in, “I don’t think anyone’s here. When I arrived there was no one around and there still isn’t.”

“Strange… Did you ring the bell?” He points out.

I shook my head. “I was about to before I met you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting you. Would you like to do the honors?” He gestures to the bell.

I couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. Of course my little self wanted to ring the hell out of that bell, so I did. I hit the bell once, no one came over. So I rang it about another 50 times. Still nothing.

I looked back at The Doctor confused and he looked at me just as confused. Just as he was about so say something a man appeared out of no where.

“Good evening,” the man said in a robotic tone, “How many I help you?”

The man looked human but there was something very off about him. He talked like a robot, he was emotionless and I don’t think he was even blinking. I stared at the guy as I tried to figure out what he was or if he was actually human.

“Hey,” The Doctor nudged me, “It’s rude to stare you know.”

“Is he even real?” I whispered to The Doctor.

“Of course he is! He’s standing infront of us isn’t he?” He pointed out, but it didn’t answer my questions.

But before I spoke up again, he began to order for us, “We’ll get two cups of tea, one in the cup and another in a sippy cup. I’ll take a croissant and they’ll take a chocolate chip cookie.”

I immediately pulled on his arm, “A sippy cup?!”

He looked at me with a raised eye brow, “Do you think you’re old enough to be holding a glass tea cup right now?”

I looked at him with a defiant look and he looked back at me with the same eye brow raise. But the problem is he was right and he knew and I knew it.

So instead of admitting he was right, I just started to blush and turn my head and body toward his shoulder.

I could hear the smirk in his voice, “That’s what I thought love.” He looked over at the robot…I mean the guy, “That will be it for us thanks.”

“Please have a seat. I will return with your items shortly.”

With that The Doctor led us over to a booth to sit in. Once seated I looked back over at the counter and the guy seemly disappeared again.

“Are you sure he’s not a robot?”

“What if he is? What would be the issue with a robot?”

“What is a robot doing working at a café in London?! And why does it look so lifelike?!” I asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Maybe he couldn’t find work on other planets?” He suggested.

That stopped me for a moment, “Other planets?”

“Here is your order sir,” the robot…I mean guy appeared out of thin air. It was so much of a surprise that I jumped a bit from the shock of it.

“Here we are,” The Doctor said taking all of our cups and plates from the tray, “Thank you very much.” He said paying the bill to the very real guy.

“Please let me know if you need anything else.” And with that the robot guy walked away.

“Strange,” I said more to myself than to anyone else.

Before I could even touch anything The Doctor waved this strange device over our food and drinks before looking at it. The device was blue and it made a weird noise.

“What’s that?” I asked with a tilt of my head.

“This is my sonic screwdriver. It can scan for dangerous things and can unlock plenty of other things.”

“Are…do you think the robot guy poisoned us?”

“No! No, the “robot guy” is just that, a robot guy who serves us tea. But with everything in life I like to keep a close and careful eye out for anything.” He explained.

“Like a certain someone trying to sneak a piece of cookie before they’ve had a drink of their tea.” The Doctor added with the raise of an eye brow.

I pulled my hands away from the cookie and blushed like crazy being caught in the act. I turned and picked up my sippy cup. The cup made me feel so Little. The cup, the way the Doctor was caring for me, it all seem to hit me like a train at that moment.

Here I was sitting at a public cafe with a sippy cup in hand and being taken care of by a Caregiver. It was enough to really have me sink into my headspace.

Soon regression started to sink around me like nice warm weighted blanket. I leaned back in the booth and started to drink the nice warm tea from the sippy cup.

The Doctor sat across from me with a smirk on his face as he sipped his own tea. “See,” he said putting his cup down, “You have nothing to worry about. Just let me take care of everything for you munchkin while you take the time you need to regress okay?”

I nodded, still not letting the sippy cup fall from my lips. The tea was amazing and just what I needed to warm me up.

The Doctor leaned forward and started to break apart my cookie into smaller easier pieces to eat. Once finished the two of us started to dig in. I ate the small pieces of my cookie while he ate his croissant.

Soon the two of us were finished. It was getting late, and between that and the nice warm cup of tea and jacket I was slowly starting to nod off at the table. Something that didn’t miss The Doctor’s careful attention.

“I think it’s about time we get you back home and in bed. Don’t you think?” The Doctor smirked.

I nodded, taking the empty sippy cup and putting it back on the table. The Doctor and I stood up from the booth, but right away he could see I wasn’t too strong on my feet. So he decided to lend a hand.

“Is it okay if I pick you up pumpkin?” He politely asked.

I nodded right away, too tired to want to walk back to my flat anyway.

The Doctor lifted me up and onto his hip with ease. “There we go,” I heard him say as I started to relax against him.

He turned to the interesting robot guy, “We’re all set here. Thank you again. Cheers.” And with that he walked us out of the café.

The robot guy continued to watch as we left.

~~~

Thankfully the rain had stopped. The Doctor walked down the deserted sidewalk with me in his arms half asleep. “Now, where do you live?”

I mustered all the energy I could and lifted my head up to tell him the address. Once I did I looked up and over The Doctor’s shoulder to see the café worker. I jumped in The Doctor’s arms which soon got his attention too.

He turned around and witnessed the man. We were a bit away from the cafe now thankfully. With his hair pulled back we could see there was something attached to his face. Something silver with blue lights.

“Doctor?” I asked as anxiety gripped me. I held onto him a little tighter.

“We’re…we’re going to have to make a little detour to your flat Y/N.” He said in a voice that was doing a poor job of covering up worry.

“Hold onto me tightly.” He instructed before he took off down an alley way running. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head against his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a trembling voice.

“It seems our cafe friend seems to be working for an old enemy of mine called the Cybermen.”

“Cybermen? Who are the Cybermen?”

“Something we don’t want to meet and something too scary for someone as young as you right now. But there’s no need to worry. I promised to take care of you and I never break my promises.”

He continued to run from one alley way to another. In the distance I could hear mental feet marching toward us.

“Where are we going?”

“Well I can’t bring you back to your home with the Cyberman following us. But that just means I’ll have to bring you to my home.”

“Your home?”

I lifted my head up and looked ahead of us. There was nothing there. The alleyway was empty except for an old blue police telephone box at the end of it.

[igglemouse]

A scattering of seeds, a sprinkle of water, and one passing night brings forth new life. Little green bushes sprout from the dirt, promising a revolution and proving the Flower Bunny correct. Spring is in full bloom and flowers aren’t the only thing promising to blossom.

How could I not speak of the kiss between Pascal and I, after all? A tender moment between us yesterday that had my mind lingering with thoughts of him. Was that single moment under a warm spring day the sign of something more enduring?

Or could it be that my relationship with him will wither under the hot summer sun when it comes?

But today is a new day and with it comes new possibilities. With it being Friday I figured I would open the stand a little later, catch people coming home from work and ready to wind down after a busy work week. People that might not be up for cooking themselves who would be willing to part with a few simoleons to have a meal from someone else.

This decision gives me a gift of time for the morning, time well spent with laundry so that I too could prepare for what I hope is a busy and fulfilling weekend.

The weekend starts with a workout!

Pascal’s introduced me to this gym and I mean to become a regular here if for no other reason than he endorses it. He’s a professional athlete after all so if this place is good enough for him then it must be good enough for me.

It does not take long to find the appeal. There’s a calm vibe to the gym, a quiet that is only filled with the clanking of weights, machines, and sharp exhales of effort.

The treadmill’s themselves are meditative, the belt thrumming smoothly under each step I take on my journey to nowhere and everywhere all at once. Before long I begin to lose myself to the session, each step a building block towards someone better, each minute proof of my will.

Yeah. I could definitely get into this.

I wipe the back of my hand against my forehead, moistening it with my sweat, satisfied but not yet content. What’s that old phrase? No pain, no gain! I’m sweating but my legs still feel fresh and tell me that there’s still more to go. I reach down on the treadmill to increase the pace-

“You new here?” a woman asks, her voice smacking aside my focus like a clank of weights. “Just wanted to let you know that this one,” she looks down to the treadmill. “Can be a little quirky.”

“Ummm-”

“Yeeep. It likes to challenge people randomly every now and then or maybe it likes the taste of face,” I look at her confused. Perhaps something was lost in translation here because I have no idea what she means. “It’s broken,” she clarifies. “Just a warning!”

“O-oh! Gracias!”

Since I could not afford an injury at this time I stopped off the treadmill right away and followed her outside. Not the wisest of ideas. The sun seemingly mocked the idea that it was spring at all and instead hinted at what a summer day would feel like here in Oasis.

We stopped on a rightfully empty basketball court because who would want to play anything outside in his heat?

“Sorry, Simlish es no my first language,” I tell her as a precaution because I have a feeling she’s wanting a conversation. “I’m Frida.”

“Frida…cute accent! Marjorie but you can call me Marge,” she says with a welcoming smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Not a week,” I reply with a breathy chuckle.

“And already here at the gym? I like your style,” she says with a nod of her head and a wipe of her brow as well. The heat was definitely going to have us seeking shelter.

“You’ll find me here most days,” she continues, tossing her head back towards the gym. “Don’t forget about that treadmill either, better safe than sorry, right? See you later Frida.”

Perhaps I’ve met a new friend.

I get home and sink into a tub of water that has been bombed with a freshly sweet lavender scent. I think I’ve used too much because there are so many bubbles that they foam over the edge of the tub but what does that matter? It’s Friday and I plan on squeezing as much enjoyment from it as possible.

It’s not like I even get weekends off. I run a business by myself. Sola. That means my schedule is filled with work which also means I need to savor every moment of peace I can find.

But just because my schedule is filled with work doesn’t mean it’s actual ‘work’ if you catch my meaning. Cooking, as I’ve said before, brings me joy. Maybe I am easily pleased but buying a new pizza oven and making my own pizza, standard cheese pizza, the classic, completely makes my day!

I think pizza will be a very important part of my stand, it’s affordable and munchable and I can charge per slice! Perfect! Let’s just hope it’s actually good!

I step outside ready to begin my daily sale but am met immediately by a stranger. My neighbor, he claims tobe at least. “Just wanted to say hello and officially welcome you!” His voice is filled with the zeal of an overly enthusiastic neighbor. “I’ve been keeping my eye on you-”

“Oh?” caution leaks from my one word reply. The last thing I want is some neighbor keeping watch over me after all.

“O-oh! No, not like that!” he catches my caution and realizes how his introduction must seem to me. “I’m just down the road and across the street. It’s just a phrase I guess.” He then introduces himself as Oscar Fuentes.

“Hola Oscar! Cómo es-”

“No no no no, sorry, I don’t speak Selvadoradian,” he cuts me off quickly bringing a smirk to my lips. I kind of guessed he might because of his name but it’s actually better that he doesn’t because…

“Sorry, no speak Simlish!” I tell him and basically shoo him along. I have a feeling this is the nosy neighbor type and if that is true then the less interaction with him the better.

“Oh! No, it is I that is sorry! I just wanted to say your food stand adds a real punch to the neighborhood! I wanted to thank you personally and…” his words drift as I give him my best confused look to really drive the point home. “Ah, I see, well, hopefully another time. See you around?”

“Yes, yes, bye.”

Oscar takes the hint and leaves me to setting up my stand. I must admit that doing it much later in the afternoon just initially has a better feel to it and that is because of the weather.

One thing about hot climates is that there is always a perfect time of day, the sweet spot, and right now I was settled in the middle of it. Maybe that’s why my voice had a bit more pop and energy to it and maybe that’s why I pull in 166 simoleons.

It’s not a huge sum to be sure but it is a pattern, a hint of some consistency, proof that maybe I am catching on and maybe there is a future here for me after all…

A guard blocks the exit to the room with a posture that said he would be ready to defend order with all that he had. Which, in this case, was a simple can of pepper spray. Here at ADX Desierto it was all a guard could have because the risk of a prisoner wrestling away a baton, knife, or gun, was far too much. While a prisoner couldn’t plot an escape with either he could send a man just doing his job to an early grave and anyone who called his place home had little to lose. Some even welcomed the execution that might come from such an option.

Thankfully, this particular guard was here more as a formality. The prisoner who shared the room with him had been one of those tamed with time and religion, a man who only wanted to find redemption through the watcher and through his daughter.

A daughter he called once a week to absolutely no reply. The guard had hoped this week would be different, that she would pick up her phone and offer the man a pinch of hope, but as Anthony slammed the phone down against the receiver he knew that she was still avoiding him. Perhaps even had him blocked…

The guard was ready to escort Anthony back to his cell because usually the man, the killer, he reminded himself, would only try to call his daughter and that was it but today he held up his hand for a moment and started to dial another number.

For a moment the guard thought to warn him that all calls were recorded. Some prisoners, men whose ego were larger than the desert they were housed in, would try to conduct business behind bars and that would only add to their punishment or their time (as if a man with over 100 years left on his sentence cared much about added time). The guard thought to warn Anthony but then reminded himself again that this was a killer. Despite the calm and now tame demeanor all it took was one look into his eyes to know that this was a man who could shoot him dead in the head and think nothing of it.

So he remained in his spot, guarding the door, and instead eaves dropped on his conversation which was mostly pushed through quick and hushed phrases…

“Just make sure she’s okay….she never picks up…just check on her….got it?”

Was all he could make out. Eventually, his 15 minutes were up.

And eventually the guard is back into the heart of the facility, the corridor with steel bars on either side of him, so full and packed that a prisoners can talk to each other (and often do) and even reach across the hall to pass things around.

The guard’s steps are silent, the quiet approach taken more for necessity than fear as this time of night had given way to rest which meant even the more unpredictable prisoners had opted for sleep. Even still, just walking these halls had made him nervous. Sometimes, the best that can happen is prisoners throwing things at you, sometimes even feces, and even still that is better than the story of an officer being pulled to the cage and getting choked out and nearly dying.

Thankfully for him Anthony’s cell was not far and even better, no one messed with Anthony and so it felt more like Anthony was escorting himself to his cell and not the other way around.

The guard’s farewell is soft and filled with a hint of sympathy that would flee with the click and lock of his cell. Leaving Anthony alone in a place he had learned to call home and even appreciate.

He was told when he made his pledge to the cartel that there were only two ways out, in a casket or behind bars, he thought the former was always the only real option. He’d go out in a blaze of glory before submitting to order and begging mercy from the law…and yet, he’s glad to still be alive.

His past is one of death, a thread of lives all worthy of being ended and yet lives all the same. The faces of his victims blurs at best, the names never placed into his memory and the emotions attached to them completely non-existent. He was given a target and a bag of simoleons when the job was done. No questions asked.

It brought him simoleons, that’s all that mattered then, and it allowed him to live a life he could have only dreamed of. A life he would have happily snuffed out himself if it meant being here locked in a maximum security prison for the rest of his life with no chance of escape.

But this was a debt he learned he had to pay and his confinement had left him with his thoughts, his own thoughts, not those tainted by powder or drugs, but thoughts of a father who had once seen the promise of a life he had turned down.

He would survive, he would serve the rest of his hundred year sentence because it is what she asked of him. It is what he owed her. He never planned to father her, he barely knew her mother after all. His concept of family were the men who paid him and never anything more than that. He fought for them, he killed for them, but the cold concrete and steel of this building had taught him that family isn’t who you fight for, its who you live for.

He knew there was no redemption here, that the Watcher would be insane to ever forgive the list of sins he’s committed, his soul had been judged and condemned.

But there was still time for Frida…

Episode List - Next

[heyhellohihowareyou]

Why “Ball Game Tournament Time” is underrated as hell

BASEBALL EPISODE! BASEBALL EPISODE! Any anime that has a baseball episode in it is bound to get Hailey hooked!

And this one is about her Sugi boy! She’s all for him getting more screentime!

Out of context picture

I’m pretty sure that this was the episode that started the “Jiriki Hongan Revolution” intro (Correct me if I’m wrong) and since it’s tied as my fav AC intro, this episode gets points for starting it!

Baseball fanatic Koro is best Koro!

Anyways, did I mention I love baseball episodes because I love baseball episodes

Found a cute side character with freckles. Appreciate her NOW!

Two very good boys right here!

Kimura gets to do something! We must savor this moment while we still can!

Awww a cute Mimura!

I live for a badass Sugi boy (Even though this one is in Shindo’s head 😅)

Also, start the count for how many times Shindo looks like he’s about the piss himself

Ain’t this such a great episode! 3-E is succeeding and showing the main campus kids what’s what! Boy I sure hope no one ruins-

Bitch. Can you please stay out of my feel good sports episodes and not traumatize people at all? You’re bringing down the vibes man 😕

Well the girlies are back at least! Kind of wish we got to see them play though.

Kayano: “It’s just that the other team had huge jiggly boobs! It made me so made that I couldn’t concentrate!” Kaede sweetie you are not beating the allegations 🩷💜💙

Nothing to say except I like Maehara’s bewildered face

GAKUHOU STOP FUCKING MANIPULATING TEENAGERS FOR FUCK SAKE

I hate the man but those eyes though

Irina: “Aha! I think I get it! So you hit a ball with a stick!” Never change Irina. Never change.

Oh my god EVERYONE SHUT UP RIGHT NOW AND LOOK AT MY BOY!!!

Did I mention that I adore Sugino. Well, I ADORE SUGINO!!!

I swear to god Gakuhou doesn’t have life WHY ARE YOU HERE!?

Also, anyone else felt bad for Shindy this episode? Sure he was sort of a cocky bastard for the first part but man is he put through hell here.

Karmster using his bitch powers to good use (Yes, Karmster is his new name now)

Also this should be a meme template

I saw the glowing red eyes and my first thought was “Baki?”

Nothing to say except that I find Isogai’s little sigh cute

Bewildered Shindy

Gakuhou: “Crack a skull if need be.” Why aren’t you in jail yet?

We love Karmster’s little bitch face

Karmster: “Swing like you’re trying to kill us.” My guy is in distress

Nagisa: “That’s got him pretty shaken up.” Pretty Shaken- MY GUY IS TRAUMATIZED!

Again, poor Shindy. Like seriously get this boy some help.

I’ve caught two bright smiles in one screenshot!

Sugino: “Didn’t mean for things to get so crazy.” Shindy needs to go to therapy

Juuuust Karmster

Hadn’t mention before but I love listening to Sugi’s dubbed voice. For someone who shares a voice actor with the loud mouth that is Katsuki Bakugo his voice is nice to listen to

Sugino: “It was about being proud of my new friends. I wanted to show them off.” Sugino I fucking love you.

Welp that’s it. That was a good ass episode that we as a fandom should talk about more! It’s season 1’s version of leader time to me. In fact it’s part of my top ten favorite episodes of the series (I really need to make a list) I don’t say it that much but Sugino as a character brings me so much serotonin so watching this episode was a joy for me! Combined with the fact that I love baseball this episode was an absolute delight.

I keep forgetting how bad I feel for Shindy boy here. Like, he was just slightly cocky and he ended up getting manipulated left and right. Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up having nightmares about the 3-E students sniping him in his sleep or something.

Anyways, like I said. This is a good episode and we should really discuss it more. We should discuss Sugino more. DISCUSS THE BOY! <—— Barely discusses the boy in question

[palfriendpatine66]

Writing Obi-Wan I got an amazing ask that has prompted your Pal to go on several rants so I’m breaking it into parts for readability.

An anon new to writing fanfic asked about characterizing Obi-Wan. They asked about his most important traits to include to really nail his characterization and most importantly:

"In particular, I'm confused about reconciling the (chaotic, dramatic, 10/10) Clone Wars happenings with the way he appears in some other stories (more, well, civilized)."

Well anon: ask and you shall receive. Find your pal’s beginner's thesis below, keeping in mind that there are many others in the fandom who are way more accomplished authors who are much better about characterization in their own works and are way more qualified to speak to this. I'm going to do my best!

I love this ask! Characterization is so important in fan fic as we take familiar characters in place them into different scenarios that we haven’t seen how they react and respond to, and yet want it to feel authentic. The best is when you read a chapter and think of course that’s how Obi-Wan would deal with this.

The first part to nailing characterization is voice. Not even the motivation aspects behind “he would not fucking say that” but I literally ask myself: can I imagine the character’s voice actually saying these things? If I can’t hear Ewan McGregor’s Obi-Wan in my mind speaking the lines of dialogue I’ve written, I know it’s not right. This isn’t something specific I could give you a How To on, it’s 100% based on vibe and feel, BUT. Listen to the dialogue in the movies/tcw/kenobi series. The words he uses, his cadence, his tone. Even if he's being written in an alternate universe speaking about something that canon Obi-Wan has never experienced, and never will, it should still *sound* like him. If I had to summarize his voice: civilized yes, and more mature or refined than Anakin’s speech patterns, but with the ever present threat of sass. Underlying almost everything he says is a sense of I can and will destroy you if you piss me off, so tread lightly.

That brings me to your point of reconciling the different parts of Obi-Wan. There’s a line in Stover’s novelization of Revenge of the Sith which (I'm paraphrasing) says: he’s a Jedi Master who deep down still feels like a padawan. To me, this is why he can be the cool, calm logical Jedi Master one moment and then impulsively launching himself out of windows to hang from a speeding droid the next.

He is the expert of Fake it Till You Make It. He was suddenly thrust into all these roles of responsibility before he was prepared for them, but has taken them on and is Doing His Best. He literally went from being a padawan to having a padawan overnight. He had no time to experience being responsible for himself before he was responsible for someone else. He’s the youngest member on the council and despite, you know, not being trained in the military he is like The Highest Ranking Jedi and in command of a frighteningly huge portion of the GAR. He *is* incredibly competent and good at what he does, but he feels like its a role he's acting. He is playing the part of the wise Jedi, modeling himself after everyone he respects and looks up to and thinks is doing a better job than himself, when a lot of times his personal instinct isn't to react with measured patience but rather Yeet! or Read This Bitch!

Always remember: this man contains multitudes. There is no One Right take on his personality. That’s why he’s so fun to write! And also why there’s so many different versions of Obi-Wan in fan fic, and yet most are able to feel right if they hit the voice. Authors lean into the different sides of Obi-Wan they want to bring out. Some are more into his Big Dick Energy, being a BAMF, having the answers, and being in control General Kenobi. Some relate to the more the anxious padawan desperate to prove himself. Some see the man tossing back shots in the Outlander and think to themselves “this ho has slept with half of Coruscant”. Any and all of these can feel true to the character when done from a place of love and understanding for our main man Obi-Wan Kenobi