#i'm making jim gifs and i saw this in the background

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek tng #star trek voy #star trek ent #star trek ds9 was the one show that went above and beyond #1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt #oc #octrekmeta #octrek #gene roddenberry #rick berman #brannon braga #kirk #spock #uhura #rand #nichelle nichols #majel barrett #grace lee whitney #tos #tng #voy #ent #marina sirtis #jolene blalock #terry farrell

[mariamariquinha]

Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Eight

Summary: *Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood playing in the background*.

Word count: 4.6k (hell yeah)

Warnings: Bad words, daddy issues (of course), talks about paternity, mentions of violence, family problems, unprotected p in v sex, slight nipple play, kinda of copy mechanism (?), typos (I’ll try to check again if there’s something), very brief reference to country singers, allusion to historical events.

Author’s Note: Guys I’m really sorry that my links are not working, but I don’t know what’s going on and it’s kinda freaking me out. I still need to check on Tumblr to see what’s up, so I’m sorry for everyone who tried to reach the last chapters (that’s why I didn’t even linked the masterlist here). 

Also, I’m sorry for being late with this one haha Things wasn’t working for me so I give myself a small break to go back in the mood, so... yeah, 4k words later, here we are! WOO-HOO!

(I love this gif so much, ugh)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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It was a cliché. A big one. Girl who had problems with her father, like… yeah, okay. Kick a bush anywhere and find five or six with similar stories.

He was born in Nashville, used to listen to Patsy Cline and Jim Reeves with absurd frequency, and disowned everything after the 70s, which included Alan Jackson, even if you've seen something about the guy in his record collection - not that the visits to his house were that frequent (or existent). Hillbilly, another cliché. Harsh personality, another cliché.

He didn't even have to hide so much in his astute personality to accurately trace what that past, filled with sermons, church Sundays and hay, would have done to the relationship that type of man developed with a female daughter. There was a cruel side to you, cold and even calculating, that personified itself as a consequence of the way things had been. How unhappy he was with his decision to move to Texas for work and then turned to be even more bitter at the idea of ​​having a daughter with someone he'd met in a single night; how marriage was a bankrupt institution from the beginning and how it hurt you and your mother unscrupulously.

You weren't from Texas, though. Javier used to say that you still had a long way to go to be like that, even if there were certain remnants of the education your father gave you - if he gave you any. Your metropolitan Los Angeles style was something of your mother's and that only made the crumbling relationship turn to dust in the wind. Join the DEA? Stupid. But he would take credit, after all he saw the Department being created and felt 'honored' to have nurtured enough good fruit in you, making you a young woman in the field.

Firstly, when he walked towards you at the airport, you noticed that there was confusion on his face when he saw you. Whether it was your presence or you just looked more miserable, he was expressionless for a while. It was night, the trip from Bogotá to Medellín had been adjusted to a more strategic time, but you knew the Ambassador would offer lunch or something similar to create amenities.

“... I feel flattered.” Not a ‘hello’, or even a ‘how are you doing?’. He needed to tease. He needed it.

You rolled your eyes at him, keeping your arms crossed over your chest and rolling your head to the side.

“Don’t feel, you’ll still carry your own luggage,” Your tone was light, a little sharp but… light. “And it’s a long way to the car.”

“Oh, I'm sure that courtesy was a privilege reserved only for your arrival.”

Without an answer, he just followed your strides down the landing strip, the cool breeze making your clothing choice more valid than his, who opted for those tailored pants that were expensive in an unhealthy way financially. He was always bigger, stockier, better able to withstand cold breezes. If there were any complaints, it would be about the wind messing with his hair, but the time had made him bald enough that the effects of the breeze were nil.

“Where will you stay?” The question sounded stupid, at least for him, who replied with a bigger frown after getting comfortable in the passenger seat of the Ford Bronco you’ve been driving for quite some time. “What?”

“Where do you think I would be?”

“Not with me.” After a beat of silence from his part, your hand hesitated on the ignition and you looked at him a little desperate. “Or it is?”

“No, of course not.”

“Thank God,” You breathed with relief, finally giving life to the car in time to see the man scoffing a disbelieved laugh. Perhaps he reconsidered a little before giving his address, which was in a discreet hotel - this time you masked the relief in knowing that the stay would be temporary.

You didn't dare turn on the radio for much of the drive, opting for the natural silence of the streets and the car's engine instead of trying to fill the void of a conversation neither of you wanted to have (or so you thought).

“How’s everything going? I’ve heard a lot about your progress.”

Huh.

“Did you?”

“Since you don’t appreciate giving me any updates…”

“You seem to be having them just fine without me.”

“Or maybe you just didn't want me to know about your adjustment difficulties,” This made you gaze at him with a bit of annoyance, where he found enough encouragement to continue with that tone. “Which I understand, after all, the local police aren't always very cordial with us.”

“Do you think this is the biggest of my problems here?”

“No, but the name Horacio Carrillo may have caught my attention. I imagined he was patriotic enough to be averse… It must have been a fun experience, watching you two beating horns.”

The mention of Carrillo made you grip the steering wheel tighter and keep your eyes exclusively on the street so as not to give any suspicious reactions. That was one thing that had been probing your head a little bit, the idea that they had a past you knew very superficially. Your father wouldn't pay much attention to it if it was something forgettable, like most of the memories he never wanted to share from his time in Colombia, and it certainly wasn't something that boiled down to a simple soldier learning torture techniques to fight the ELN*. Plus, of course, there was the shadow of the fact that you hadn't even enjoyed the amazing time the two of you had together, especially with the great distance you both naturally established with your father's aura hovering there.

“Beating horns.”

“I know how tough and stubborn you can be.”

“It came from somewhere.”

“Me, I assume.”

“He had his reasons for not liking me right off the bat,” You gazed at your father again, this time for sure of your intentions. “Do I need to elaborate on this or do you also have more memories of Carrillo?”

“So you are no longer in the title phase, this seems to be progress.” The teasing way he mentioned it, not even amused by your provocation, made you clench your teeth in anger. Fucking bitch. “But how about Peña and Murphy? Good partners.”

“Why do I get the impression that you already have the answer to your questions?”

“I do, but I need to understand if you can still get a good shot at your targets knowing that a minute's delay could cost you your life.”

Again, you didn't give him the pleasure of sharing any reactions, focusing solely on driving the car, but the strained air gave away what he really meant by that.

Juan Marcos taking the knife. The pain of that cabinet breaking apart in your back. His weight beneath you as it made him pass out with a force created by the desperation of survival. Carrillo's face, the blood running down your forehead… It was the kind of thing you tried to forget, that you clearly didn't tell.

You couldn't deduce whether he had the right to be offended by it.

“We're not going to talk about it.” You decided.

“It’s because of this kind of behavior that bad things happen.”

“Well, you being here seems to be proof of that.”

“If that means you'll stop playing lone heroine around here, I'm glad I'm not welcome.”

“Maybe the problem is you're always more than content to be alone all the time, dad.” This abrupt harsh comment made him shut up. You sighed again, closing your eyes for a few seconds to compose yourself. “... As I said, we’re not gonna talk about it. It's always like that with you and... And we don't have time for that. Yes, I'm alive, yes, it was my mistake. And believe me when I say that my consideration kept you from worrying enough for me, so let’s prevent the drama.”

There was something else about your father that could have ambivalent meanings: his silence. He would be quiet to think, to anticipate a sharp response, to be surprised, or even to show offense. You could never tell which was which until the next reaction came.

When that didn't happen and the two of you made your way to the hotel in a new vacuum of utter nothingness, he just said he'd see you the next day as if nothing had happened. The frustration, however, was the same - he still hadn't learned to listen to what you had to say.

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

The tension was palpable, but no one dared to put a finger on it for the sake of that mission. Carrillo would look at you, then to your father, feeling a particular helplessness, as if being there was like watching a bomb about to explode without being able to do anything about it.

Javier had told him about the relationship, at least what he knew, which went almost unnoticed by Carrillo since at the time he didn't like him and there was no justification for it; not that what had been going on between you should mean anything, but a protective instinct surged through him at the memory.

“We met at that party, you know. Everyone could see that she didn’t want to be there or whatever,” Peña mentioned. “Maybe they don't talk to each other after what happened here.”

And Horacio knew that was a subtle cue to speculate on his motives for not liking your father, but the silence that followed was enough for no one to bring it up again. It took a while for the walls of rejection to come down - a little longer for him to understand that there was a cliff of difference between you and that brusque, hostile father figure.

You had a fire like him, but Carrillo would never be on guard with you for the same reasons he would be with your father.

It wasn't much, at the time he'd seen plenty of other guys like him walking around Colombia and taking up space as their own, wasting time and money on hookers and alcohol before going back to the grueling job of ripping a person's fingernails off in interrogation.

When he first met him, he was still a low-ranking soldier, limited to orders, with words of obedience on the tip of his tongue. The primal nature of always being ahead, of being number one, of... being the best, was something that pleased your father immediately, and the two spent more time in a closer relationship - which was not a friendship. There was a story about family; Carrillo had just gotten married. Your father laughed, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and said that he would soon find out that this would be a stupid decision.

When he found out that you and your mother were in the States, uncertain about the whereabouts of the man who was supposed to protect you two, there was a sense of morality in him, and in that aspect he was pretty strict about keeping his distance. When he saw your father bragging about the women he'd been paying at the brothel, Carrillo saw his respect for the guy completely drained from his body. When the training ended with one of his partners in the hospital almost dead, the decision to make him an enemy was already right.

It was strange to think about it at that moment, because since then he's been thinking about you. The woman who was there, in front of him, smoking a cigarette with the worst of expressions as she listened to the man without any dignity of his own talking about something with such propriety. Horacio wondered if you had feelings for the man, at least one that was good. If the two of you fought a lot, if you found out what was happening in Bogotá, if there was any connection of affection.

He suddenly felt bad for being hard on you at first, even though there was a part of him telling him that he wasn't the worst man you'd ever faced in your life.

“So basically the three of us are going to be playing with dolls while you guys do the work?” Your voice was so full of rancor that everyone was surprised, except your father, who just sighed with his hands on his hips.

“That was the deal.”

“The 'deal' was collaborative work. I know it may seem like a difficult term for you to understand, but no one here has been scratching their own ass all the time. You are here for what we achieved.”

There was a unique silence in space; everyone agreed with you, that was a fact, and the dissatisfaction was shared enough that no one tried to appease it.

You took more of the cigarette and looked him straight in the face, not hesitating for a microsecond with your defiant gaze. Tough girl, that was Carrillo’s thought while watching the scene - he needed to resist the urge to smile at it, to say you’re doing just fine right then and there, wearing the pants and giving your father shit.

“We don't have to go into that merit.”

“Oh, I think we do,” Your answer was sharp and fast. “What do you think we’re doing here, basically?”

“I can't risk putting agents unprepared for an operation of this size,” He crossed his arms over his chest, just as tough as you. “Considering the recent episodes of how your so-called great job led you all, I’m more than sure that this discussion isn’t necessary.”

There was a second silence, much stronger and more intense than the first time, because everyone understood what it meant and it was a subject no one wanted to discuss. It was his plan, after all, and he sure as hell used it as a weapon to disarm your aggressive behavior.

It sounded unfair. Carrillo couldn't be the only one to think that, mainly because everyone was involved and there were still the marks of the attack on your body. How could someone who wasn't there, who didn't know what you were doing with some competence, act like that? How could a father limit himself to calling his own daughter incompetent when she almost died?

“What happened with Juan Marcos was…” Javier tried to speak but you interrupted him right away.

“Say what you mean.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So let's be clear, maybe no one here has seen how cowardly you are to use this against all of us.”

“It's not a question of cowardice, it's a question of safety to make sure you don't get all lit up to do grown-up work and risk all the work trying to play heroin,” The tone your father used was bitter, full of anger and loud enough for everyone to listen. Carrillo clenched his fists at it; Javier and Steve looked between you and the man in silence. “So no, you are not going to make part of this and be thankful to have the right to be sitting here right now.”

Yes, there was a third silence, and even though there wasn't a hint of tears on your face, it was obvious that you were hurt by it. You held a disappointed expression, fingers fiddling with the still-lit cigarette between them, jaw clenched - it was like a bucket of cold water right in the middle of your face. Who was he to talk about incompetence? Who was he to treat you like that in front of everyone?

Carrillo once again resisted the urge to go to you when he saw you sigh, put out your cigarette in the ashtray on the table, and brush the ashes off your pants.

“... Peña and Murphy have experience in this type of operation. Technical knowledge doesn't trump field experience, at least not here, so consider the possibility for the sake of your team. If that's what you want.”

The colonel's mind and tongue worked before he could stop it.

“No.”

Everyone looked at him in confusion, including you, but since word was out, he stared at the table for a while before facing your father specifically.

“This won't work if we don't come to a consensus.”

“Colonel, the situation is more delicate than it appears.”

“I was there wiping the blood off your daughter’s face when they tried to kill her, and despite our differences I assure you that my trust is in every person in this room.” The decision in his voice made your father squint. “We're here to strategize, so be it, but with all due respect I'd rather have someone I know watching my back than a bunch of southern men who've only seen Colombia on postcards.”

To say that there was one more moment of silence was a bit obvious, but Carrillo could see the same feeling of anger emanating from his father as the time he had challenged him years ago, when his body was leaner and his confidence more precocious.

That time nobody said anything because it was an unusual attitude; not the retaliation, but the fact that he was defending you from an awkward situation and using as an argument the fact that he trusted not only you, someone he had reservations about, but Steve, who was hardly in his favor even afterward so long. Maybe that surprised your father too, maybe he knew the two of you didn't get along in plain sight, but that logic made the work dynamic in the name of the mission.

That didn't include the fact that you were sharing a bed with him at times. This was a secret justification that only surfaced in the exchange of glances you had as Carrillo watched everyone for a brief moment and saw you with a dumbstruck expression.

“By land and by air. We're going to need communication all the time,” He nodded at the map on the table nonchalantly, leaning against it to refocus on the plane and ignore the amount of stares directed at him.

If you squeezed his forearm gently and smiled discreetly after that, probably as a way of showing some sort of good reaction to what he said, Carrillo tried not to feel satisfied with his own self.

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

“How does it work?”

Horacio looked up in time to see your father with both hands in his pants pockets, looking at him with a curious expression. It was already night, a little late to have so many employees in the Search Bloc building, so he looked between the man standing in front of him and the door, ready to ask why he was there.

“This thing between you and her. What kind of strategy is there between you to make everything so smooth?” He talked about you as if you were a stranger, which made Carrillo particularly angry.

“My strategies are limited to my work. I do what has to be done.” The answer came politely, even as the colonel continued to stare at the revised plan on his desk.

“I know her well enough to know that she is not easy.”

“Me neither.” You neither, he thought.

“But she's not what you were when we first met,” This caught Carrillo's attention, and he raised his head again with a frown. “I brought her up to the strict function of doing a fucking decent job. Nothing out of the ordinary. What happens is that there is a difference between learning and putting learning into practice.”

“She handled the situation pretty well on her own, she's been doing it since she got here.”

“Being attacked by a narco three times her size isn't handling the situation pretty well, Colonel. You know this more than I do, we come from the same place.”

Once again, Horacio held his tongue so as not to say anything else he regretted; instead, he abandoned the focus of the documentation on the desk and leaned back in his chair, staring at your father as if the man's words were an insult - because they were.

“When your daughter arrived here, I almost committed the indiscretion of writing a complaint to the Embassy. I thought like you. I figured she would be a spoiled brat who came from the right place to the wrong fight and particularly that lasted longer than ideal.”

He paused just to remember you two on his bed sharing a cigarette, then your face while negotiating with the Montoya boy.

“I've seen too many men die to understand the weight of what these motherfucker narcos are putting on my country, agent, and I've come to recognize what I really value in a team that has the same ideals as I do.”

Dissatisfied and unconvinced by the answer given by Carrillo, your father moved with some discomfort and scoffed.

“And what ideals would those be?”

“Among other things, being ready to not pull the trigger.”

Which sounded very unusual to both of them. Not pulling the trigger? Did they really believe in this philosophy in the midst of the hell created by Escobar? Well, there you were, right? Talking to a boy sold into the drug trade, asking about a man you barely knew as you nearly died at the hands of Juan Marcos, giving up work with your father if it meant seeing your partners get recognition.

This was the kind of sense of morality that put both of them to the test of their convictions. Vocalizing it made Carrillo realize that he loved it about you - and that your father hated it.

“Balance then.”

“Yes. Balance.” Horacio nodded, already going back to his papers. “I would rest if I were you, by the way. None of us are in the physique of those years ago, we better be fine for tomorrow.”

With no direct response to the brief provocation, Carrillo smirked when he heard the office door close after a brief 'good night' and thought that, at least that way, your father had received a dose of humility he so deserved.

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

The idea was not for Horacio to show up at your apartment so late, or to show up there anyway. It wasn't part of the plan. But Javier and Steve weren't there in the building and he wanted to know how you were, which took you by surprise when you saw him standing there in the doorway.

“I thought you were going to stay in the office all night to check the details.” You said with a frown of yours, closing the door and standing considerably close to him in the small space of your corridor.

“Changed my mind.”

“... Why?”

“You know why.”

It was a thought that lasted half a second and you only had this delay because the whole situation with your father was stressful, like there wasn't a single obvious possibility for what you two could do alone in that apartment. God knew how great it would be to have a good distraction from all that shit.

Without further questions or doubts, he pulled you by the hem of your sleep shorts and grabbed your neck for a hot kiss. The first contact of your body with his made you sigh, considering he was still chilled by the night air and you had slipped out from under the covers. It wasn't so uncertain; Carrillo has come to know your body well enough to have an idea of where to start.

A hand on your neck, the other grabbing a handful of your left ass cheek without a single reservation. That would be the style of it: messy, intense, necessary.

“No panties?” He whispered against your mouth after biting your bottom lip, pupils dilating with desire as he used the same hand to massage your buttock.

“As if you liked me that much with it.”

“Remembering the important things... Really sexy, you know?”

You had to lead him to your room, so you took him by the hand to lead him to the more discreet and simple bed that adorned the small space. He'd already shed his shirts and boots by the time you climbed into bed, and the sight of his bare torso had you biting your lip before pulling him by his belt closer.

With a bite to his left breast, he growled; when repeating the process on the right side, he grabbed your hair by the back of your neck and pushed you away, which made you smile before having your mouth attacked by another kiss, this time more intense. You were two angry people, frustrated with the day, impatient with the lack of contact recent events had created, wanting more than what appeared to be just a glimpse of what you could do with the other.

This time you didn't let him rip any of your clothes off and he chuckled at your haste to get rid of the tank top you were wearing. When your hand stopped his motion to lean towards the bed, he lost some of that humor to confusion, but before he could ask, you wrapped your arms around his neck and draped your torso over his. The contact made him hiss, just to moan lowly at the way your nipples brushed on his, creating a delicious friction.

All that was left for him was to grab your waist and let you enjoy it as much as he did, while you watched every inch of the man's reactions with a smirk. It was your turn to pull him by the hair at the back of his neck, taking his attention from your breasts so he could kiss you.

The rest was improvised, he didn't even take all his pants off and you only pulled out one side of the shorts as soon as you both lay on the mattress; the garment was hanging from your leg as he put your knees on his shoulders and entered you in one fell swoop. That poor bed, miserable and cheap compared to his, creaked more than anything with the movements of his hips, the simple headboard hitting the wall with such force of the thrusts.

You were left to surrender to the moment, eyes closed to focus on the sensation of that moment and your mind lost in the pleasure he was providing you. He literally started to pound inside of you, making your voice weak in moans and whimpers, surrendered by that intercourse that took you to a strong and magnificent orgasm.

“... Where?” Was all Carrillo managed to say as he panted above you, pulling his face from your neck to look into your eyes as he asked.

“Inside,” You said with a mewl, legs still shaking from your high. “I want you inside.”

Perhaps on other occasions he would say something quite indecent, but hearing you say that seemed enough for him to spill his cum all over your pussy, groaning loudly at the sensation of filling you so good just like that.

It was like getting rid of a giant weight.

You and him, surprised as if the sex between you hadn't felt so good already, as if the weight of his body on top of yours was new. There was no other thought in that moment, just the certainty that that protective instinct could be a reality and he was making sure he would use his words and his body to make sure you were okay.

Dammit, you thought. It only took a man like that to appear in your life that you could already feel that idea in your fingertips, between the breath of post-sex and your mind coming back to reality.

That's what I was looking for.

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

Glossary

ELN: The National Liberation Army of Colombia (Ejército de Liberación Nacional) is a Colombian guerrilla organization,[1] of communist inspiration and political-military character, created in Simacota on July 4, 1964, by Fabio Vasquez Castaño, inspired by the successful experience of the Cuban Revolution. 

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

No pressure tags

@cheesybadgers​

@padbrookcottage​

#horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo #colonel carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo fic #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #maurice compte

[aliypop]

Why Do You Love Me

Word Count: 2.2625

Warning: language

Writers Note: I haven't abandoned my Peaky Fic Idea's but I've been back on my Batman binge, so please enjoy this fic. I do not own the gif, also yes I mixed a bit of BaleBat Brucie to create Batflecks Brucie I like them both equally... and yes in my head Harvey Dent Is played by Oscar Issac

Pairing: OC x Canon

Genre: Romance

Plot: Bruce Wayne has been gone for 7 sluty sluty years, but it isn't until he makes an appearance back in Gotham does he realize that the best thing he's got going for him is his best friend and confidant.

Taglist:

@herosneednotapply

@runnning-outof-timeing-outof-time

@brucieboy297

GCPD

"Mind if I ask a dumb question..." 

"Better than anyone I know," filing her nails as she looked at the Guatemalan American man before her. He had crinkles near his brown eyes from long nights at the firm and a two-faced smile, "What's it between you and Wayne..." Yazela rolled her eyes, sitting in her office on one of the coldest days in Gotham, 

"I haven't seen him in seven years, so there's nothing to say on that topic,"

"We haven't seen you in seven years either, princess..."

"It's Her Grace the quee-"

"Aha, I knew it was you! The alien princess," he laughed as she rolled her eyes, "For the youngest DA, you're so immature, Harvey," she playfully pushed him, "And shut it, will you? Gordon doesn't know he thinks I'm some charity case." she whispered, 

"Living in Wayne Manor." Harvey laughed as his dark locks moved with every chuckle, 

"It's better than the streets of Gotham City, New Jers-"

"Detective Adathia, the phones for you," Gordon said, peaking into her office, 

"Dent..."

"Gordon..."

"Tell them I'll call later," she said, trying to break the tension in the room.

"Calls from Wayne Manor. A Man name Pennyworth says it's urgent..." standing from her office chair Yazela nearly raced to the phone. She'd hoped everything was okay at home. After all, she'd only been back in Gotham for about a month, and aside from work, she'd been helping Alfred with household chores since when you have powers, it makes dusting a breeze. 

"Alfred, are you alright, are your hurt? Did something happen,"

" Jumping to the worst conclusions, first are we, Ms. Adathia..." the older man said. She could hear the grin on his lips,

"It's as if nothing changed...." a voice in the background said, the hairs on her neck raised, "Alfred, who's in the house with you..." pushing the long forgotten fussy feeling aside to only worry, "Why don't you come home and find out for yourself." now she was scared, for all she knew he could be held captive and the call was a setup, "Gordon I'm taking the rest of the day off."

"I didn't dismiss you yet, detective,"

"It's an emergency..." Jim gave her a nod as she continued to walk out the door, "Be safe, your majesty..." Gordon mumbled under his breath as the Honey and Umber-skinned woman glanced back at him,

 "Nothing gets by me,"

Wayne Manor

If it was one thing Yazela loved most about driving home was the landscape of Bristol Township, it always felt like home because it reminded her of her own home. The clear blue skies and the beautiful white marshmallow clouds were beyond different from the gloomy smog smoke clouds known as Gotham. Here she could breathe fresh air, but in the city, you were lucky if you inhaled cigarette smoke. As she drove, Yazela saw the sign reading " Welcome to Crest Hill community." where every inch of land was topped with mansions almost as big as her palace on her home planet, 

Parking her Porsche in front of the mansion, she placed her keys in her pocket and walked up the steps to the front door and inside the place she had called. 

"Alfred, I'm-"

"Yazela..."

"Bruce?" was all he could hear, arms opened wide as the slightly shorter woman ran into them, 

"You're still short, huh, martian..." holding her tight, afraid that if he'd let go, she'd crumble away like his parents, "And you need a shave." Yazela laughed, touching his face, "Thought women liked beards..."

"When they're neat and clean." she scoffed, "And stop calling me Martian," she growled, releasing her from the hug he laughed, looming over her,

 "Make me..." with a swish of her wrist, she pulled the rug from under him, causing him to fall, 

"Alfre, A little help here..."

"Yazela, mind helping me with supper."

"I would be honored," the two walking past Bruce, rolling his brown and blue-ringed eyes at her,

"So you two have been here all these 7 years..." Bruce asked, sitting on the countertop, being he had been band from the kitchen since the big grease fire he caused at 16 years old, "I just returned last month from Pafrania, but it's mostly been Alfred keeping everything in order," Yazela shrugged her shoulders, "Mmm... careful with the lobster," her focus on prepping the dish, she didn't no not didn't she couldn't look at Bruce, not when he was glancing down at her with those ever so soft eyes of his and that cute no stupid smug look on his face, that she wanted to kiss right off him, 

Kiss did she think about kissing her best friend. Clearly, her brain was lagging from a lack of sleep and endless cases. Kissing Bruce Wayne, the man before her whose hair looked like a mangy dog that only a little girl could love to tell her mother to keep it. No, she was going mad, a bit daffy even. 

"Shit..." she mumbled under her breath,

"Are you okay..." Bruce inspected her finger, looking at the cause for her cursing.

"It's just a small alaveck..."

" A what?" Bruce looked at her with furrowed brows,

"It's like a small slip in the skin, and it bleeds and-"

"A cut," his tone of voice a bit dead-panned as he held back his laughter, "Yeah, a cut." Yazela pulled her finger away from him, 

"I'll go find a band-aid." 

"How about you just get out of the kitchen..." she shooed him off, embarrassed about how close the two were, meanwhile watching from the shadows was Alfred, Alfred wouldn't outright say that Bruce and or Yazela needed to make a move towards their feelings but nine years of this duo beating around the bush can tire an old butler like himself out.

"So, where were you for all those years," Yazela asked, poking at her Mulligatawny soup, Bruce's favorite aside from Lobster Thermador and French Onion, 

"Studying all that I could, what about you. You were gone too." 

"Coronated," she smiled, "My mother asked about you." 

"She knows I exist?" eating his soup,

 "Through letters throughout the years, but yes, she knows you exist," she finally started to eat, a thing Alfred hadn't seen her do in weeks, "Anyways, your birthday is coming up, and I know we go all out, but this year, I was thinking maybe we-" Bruce began to yawn,

 "Maybe we..." another yawn, "We could..." she sighed, her fingers pinching her nose aggravated by Bruce, sure things had changed about Bruce. But he was still the Bruce she remembered, 

"Fine, guess you won't know what I'm getting you for your big day." shoving a spoonful of soup from his bowl into her mouth,

 "You have your own, and tell me," 

"You'll just yawn again." she teased, "And besides, I need to rest. I'm close to putting some clown guy where he belongs..." 

"You still work with Gordon?"

"Yes, is that a problem, Wayne?"

"I just think he likes you, Adathia," his face emotionless, trying to shove the jealous feelings taking over at the thought of someone liking his Yazela, 

"And I think it's time for me to sleep,"

"I think I'll join you," Yazela's cheeks flushed pink,

"Did I say something wrong,"

"No, no, no, you didn't... " 

"Perhaps you two could share a bed like old times. It helps me lots with the cleaning," Alfred suggested, 

"We were teenagers then,"

"And you two act like teenagers now," pointing to the empty dishes they left on the table, "I may be a butler, but that doesn't mean you can leave dirty dishes on the table." his glare like a stern father, the two both groaned and grumbled as Alfred had a smirk on his face, "And just for that you are going to share a room and wash those dishes," 

"But Alfred!"

"No buts,"

It was 10:47pm, and the two had finished washing dishes and putting them away. Now they were in Bruce's old bedroom, not that it was anything to sneeze about, though it had been so long since she'd been inside his room when he first left, she couldn't bring herself to go inside missing her best friend and not seeing him there felt wrong and heartbreaking, 

"You really don't have to do this,"

"Your bed is better than mine," throwing her blouse over the dressing divider, Bruce caught it, folded it, and placed it on a chair. 

"I see... Alfred could've moved you to the master bedroom," 

"That's your parents' room, technically your room... I couldn't take that from you," stepping out from behind the divider dressed in a midnight blue silk nightgown, the moon shining on her like a spotlight, and Bruce was nearly speechless. If the lights were on, he'd have been as red as a boiled crab, 

"You can have it, really..."

"Right, well, I'm going to sleep." she got under the covers, Bruce joining her, "You want a pillow between-" Yazela began to snore, 

"us." 

Gotham City - 1 Month Later

"Aye Zel, you seein this shit?" one of her co-workers asked, "What happened this time..." her dark hair in a bun, the two ran around towards the crime scene, "Some Gotham Wacko's going around using circus parlor tricks leaving around Joker car-" a clown head shaped bomb rolled it's way towards the two detectives, 

"You tell Gordon to call for backup now..."

"What are you going to do,"

"Get rid of that bastard clown..." running into the alleyway, Yazela held her breath, staying clear of the gas-like substance surrounding her,

 "Hey, gorg-" a pair of hands were on her waist as she elbowed the goon in the ribs, a clown mask hiding his identity. As he groaned in pain, a few more came circling around her, some with weapons, others with their fist locked and loaded. Pulling one by his hair, Yazela swung him into two of his friends, another she roundhouse kicked, and one she punched in the nose, but what she hadn't noticed was the goon behind her approaching her with a gun in hand, swooping down from the buildings was the caped crusader disarming the gunman and sending him back screaming he ran to Yazela, 

"I didn't need your help..." 

"He could've shot you..." his voice rasped out, thinking what would have happened had she gotten hurt, 

"But he didn't."

"I don't want to see you hurt,"

"And I don't want to see you arrested, Bruce," she said loud enough for only him to hear.

 "Adathia..."

"How'd you..."

"Just go!" 

"Adathia, you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Take these assholes in custody. I'll meet you back at GCPD, Gordon," she looked into the sky, seeing Bruce whiz by on a grappling hook through the stars. There was a slight love-sick look on her face, one she couldn't shake off and one she wished she could, "You like Mysterious men, eh..."

"Shut up, Bullock." 

Pushing past him, Yazela snarled at him, 

Wayne Manor

"How would she know it's me..." Bruce asked Alfred, who was patching him up,

 "Has it occurred to you, you both practically grew up together,"

" Funny Alfred,"

"I'm not being humorous, I assure you." The Joker hadn't done much damage to Bruce, but enough for him to hide his bruises before his birthday party, Alfred had invited everyone he once knew, from his Gotham Academy days to his days in Yale, he knew Bruce wouldn't like it, but he needed to socialize with people who weren't just Jim Gordon, Harvey Dent, Luke Fox, and or Yazela,

 "Besides, she wakes up next to you every morning, unlike those models you've been caught with..."

"That's different," cleaning up the cuts as Alfred helped him get dressed. 

"How so..."

"Well, she's a friend,"

"But Ms. Vale isn't..." 

"Alfred, I don't have time for this." walking off as he fixed his hair, his iconic part. The room foyer was filled with faces that he once knew. They now felt like strangers in a sea of the trauma he'd never forget. Sure, there were endless presents and food, but there was only one person he wished was there, 

"Shit... shit ... shit fucking turn green already!" Yazela shouted, driving in her sapphire blue gown. She didn't want to be late. After all, she had gotten Bruce something he'd never forget. Turning in hot, she had finally arrived at the manor,

"So Bruce... seeing anyone..." a woman asked, drinking champagne. His glance was towards the door, distracted and not interested by their small talk tonight. Here he was, a glass of ginger ale in hand, smiling, nodding, and flirting senselessly, 

"Looking for someone?" Luke pointed towards the door,

"Sorry I'm late, Bruce..." Yazela glanced at him in his suit, her brain completely foggy from the site. She'd seen him clean up dozens of times, but. For some reason, this time was different. Maybe it was because of the bowtie, or how he was pretending to drink champagne or-

The prettiest girl in the room has officially made it." he winked at her, taking her by the arm. He felt honored to have her by his side, even if he could never find the words to say, "Should I introduce you as a Queen." 

"It's your party, Bruce, introduce me however you'd like." Yazela leaned in to fix his tie, his heart beat so loud a Kryptonian could hear it, "Your bow was crooked," 

"Have you met Her Grace Yazela Adathia," a few of his guests bowed to her, "Oh, please don't bow. I'm simply Bruce's friend," she giggled, 

"Oh... he hadn't told me about you... such a lovely friend adorned in so many diamonds," the young woman said, "I'm Marsha, by the way, darling," kissing her hand as Bruce looked at her, both suspicious of her, "Nice to meet you..." as the night went on and Bruce introduced her back into society, Yazela was standing next to his cake, watching from afar as a cluster of women gathered around him, she wasn't jealous, or furious, she was worried seeing how uncomfortable he really was around the group of women, as much as he was good as acting as a playboy he only had room for once woman in his life and that was,

"Brucie Bear, there you are," Yazela grabbed him by the hand,

"Brucie Bear?" 

"Yes, that's what I call my... fiance who hasn't opened his present from me yet."

"My fiance?" nudging him right where he had a bruised rib, "Yes, my fiance, my little martian." he leaned in, 

"You owe me, Yazela,"

"Kiss me..." 

"What?"

"Everyones looking, so kis-" Bruce pecked her on the lips quickly, the woman around him pouting and walking away, "Now go open your present, Brucie Bear." she teased. Yet again, "Fine... " following behind him, Yazela handed him the box watching him carefully tear into it. She couldn't help but smile at his face when he unraveled a box of special edition Gray Ghost merchandise signed, by the man himself, 

" You love me or something," Bruce asked, pulling her close to him, her heart pounding at the question.

"Of course, you brown-haired, brownish-blue-eyed, bat-dressing idiot." she pulled him close by his bowtie, 

"Good cause I think I love you too." dipping her for a kiss, the room got quiet as Alfred softly cheered amongst himself, 

"You owe me a date, Wayne," 

"Will a Gray Ghost Marathon work?" 

"You get the pillows, I'll get the blankets," watching Bruce run off, there was a hand on Yazela's shoulders twisting the arm back. She then looked at who it was.

"HARVEY?"

"I knew there something between you two... soon ontop of-" twisting his arm again "OUCH OUCH OKAY!" 

#bruce wayne #dc comic oc #bruce wayne x pococ #oc x canon #poc oc #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne open starters #yazela (oc) #New Fic

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

what are some of the reasons you love Russ so much?

this feels like you just released the floodgates in my mind of all of my thoughts, like. like in cartoons where somebody will open a closet door and just get buried in an avalanche of things. that's me reading this and having all of my thoughts about russ try to fall out all at once.

okayokayokay let me get my thoughts straight. one thing at a time.

FIRST OF ALL, i saw something in him as soon as i first watched him in argent's set of six concert. i don't know if it's just like. like the way some people show such an obvious love for music in the way they do things. there's just something about him that really stuck with me immediately. not to mention his VOICE????????? HIS VOICE HIS VOICE HIS VOICE! BEAUTIFUL!!!!! AND i love his guitar. like. his guitar playing. but also his holey guitar with the holes in it. AND i love his songs AND i love his undying love for writing. AND the way he does things like:

just cracks me up every time. he's always so entertaining to watch. and jim, look at jim.

anyway! wait my mind is scattering among a lot of different things again.

okay i got it under control.

HIS STORY. the more i learn about his story, the more i feel like i can relate to him so much and the fact that he got through his difficult times the way he did is SO INSPIRING TO ME. we're similar in a lot of ways and it really makes me feel like i can get through it just the same. he makes me feel hopeful and like i need to keep trying.

the way he said he was so fearful(like i have been for my entire life) when he was young and the insecurities he had after his accident and then the depression he had when he was in argent. that ISN'T EASY TO BEAT. the way he seems so happy and comfortable now is so amazing to me. like, i'm so proud of him for that and that's also my goal now. i want that too.

i was caught up in listening to interviews of him before i even listened to any of his solo albums and he got into my head so much, i was literally crying on my floor like a baby. for DAYS(on and off but still it kept happening for DAYS). once that stopped, i suddenly felt so much better somehow and i feel like my perspective on things has been changing BECAUSE OF HIM. he's been making me think(in better ways than my usual anxiety-overthinking) so much. the way he thinks about things is so interesting to me.

i get certain parts of interviews or his lyrics stuck in my head all the time and it's like a constant reminder.

since him, i've been actually looking forward to things(instead of the usual feeling of dread first thing in the morning). i've been doing things to take better care of myself, trying to make better habits. i've been staying hydrated better, i've been eating better, i've been looking into/practicing breathing better(he loves recommending breathing to people, for good reason), i've been going for walks. IN TOWN. that probably doesn't sound like a big deal to some people, but for me and the way i've lived sheltered for my entire life, walking by myself through town is actually huge. i also recently reached out to my mom instead of waiting and hoping for her to reach out to me first(nothing really happened from it yet but at least i can say i did that), i've even been maybe SLIGHTLY more outgoing here on tumblr lately too, i think, and less afraid to post things. i still am most of the time, but it's maybe getting better the more i try.

i've just been feeling better and it's because of his influence. it's like he gets it. he understands everything. ['i will be there' and/or 'you can count on me' starts playing in the background of my text] that makes me feel like there's somebody on my side, despite never meeting him. i feel like i've been needing somebody like him to look up to for a long time, just to give me that extra little push towards living life. when i feel like there's nobody at all, that's when i feel my worst(this might be why i feel like i can kind of relate to gale sometimes, the one his song 'a song for gail' is about). loneliness is a terrible thing.

i'm feeling better because of MYSELF TOO actually, because i'm the one digging into all of this stuff from/about him and am willing to really listen to it and take it to heart, which is exactly why he puts all of this out there. like he said about his book of love album, "if a few people can look at it and it makes sense, then it’s done it’s job"

that's me. i'm one of the few people.

another thing i love about him, the way he feels for people and animals. the way he's so full of love all the time.

he just wants the world to be a better place. he wants everybody to find a passion, like he has with music, and to be happy. he always does a little speech about it before doing 'dream on' live.

the way he's always encouraging in the best ways, like what he said about being a producer before. i put it in a post a while back, but i'll put it here too:

"i think it's an advantage being an artist as well, actually knowing what it's like on the other side of the glass and i know how horrible and deflating it can be when you're singing into that microphone with all your heart and the producer comes out with one single wrong word. a producer's job is to get the best out of the artist by encouraging him all the time. if it's good, say it's very good. if it's very good, say it's fantastic, and so on."

the way he sees good in so many kinds of music instead of only limiting himself to one thing(like meeee). the way, instead of saying something is bad if it isn't his thing, he'll say it's valid.

also the way he loves his family and stopped touring for about a decade just to be there with his kids. the way they're still so close now.

THE WAY HE LOVES HIS FANS, like the way he kept the bus waiting for so long when he was in germany because he wanted to sign as many autographs for people as possible and AND AND watching live videos of him is so cute, the way it seems sometimes just about EVERY SONG, he has to have the crowd sing at some point. i especially love when he'll say 'that's beautiful!' and then tell them to do it again while he listens.

when he gets to a certain point in 'god gave rock and roll to you', he sometimes will get them singing the main part while he does the backup part so it's like they're all doing the parts of the song together.

in one video of voices, somebody in the crowd got his attention while singing along and he took his mic down from the stand and handed it to them so they could sing that part.

he loves to make people feel seen. it's like making them feel like they're on equal ground with him. "there is not any separation between the audience and what's on the stage", as he said, and it's TRUE

HE'S JUST SO CUTE AND LOVING AND BEAUTIFUL AND WANTS THE BEST FOR EVERYBODY, I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO SCREAM

i'm adding this song to the end because i love it and i love him:

YOU'RE JUST LIKE ME, YOU'RE JUST LOOKIN FOR LOVE

and some pictures of his cute smile because i can:

#i keep thinking of more things to say but i don't know if i have energy to put it into words anymore #LOOK AT HIS SMILEEEEEEEEEEE #the one of him in the toy isle makes me laugh every time help #i took the screenshot from the video #when he was just losing it laughing and then looked at the camera like that #that's his smile of mischief in that one #(this took me all day to answer because of rereading it a billion times for anxiety reasons) #(it happens every time i type too much because i can never remember everything i said and i have to keep making sure it's fine)

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Twenty Three: Why Did We Agree To This Dinner Party?

Word Count: 5.2K+

Author’s Note: honestly, I was just writing and the ending of this caught me by surprise but I had to keep it in for y’all so I just hope you love it like I do.

Warning: discussion of Michael’s vasectomies

For previous chapters click here.

April, 2008.

The entire office had been asked to work late. You, being the receptionist, were getting a large brunt of the work because, somehow, everyone needed things copied now that filing was taking place. The entire office seemed to forget to file all year round, until Michael asks them to work late, check inventory, all that stuff. Then you suddenly have more work than you can handle. You wondered, as you did another trip around the office with people's copies, how Pam had done it all.

"This is ridiculous." Stanley said as you passed him, you then having to work your way past a hovering Michael.

"Nobody likes to work late, least of all me." Michael reminded the team, turning on his heel and heading over to Jim's desk as you returned to reception, beginning to box up some new documents. At this point you didn't know what was on anything anymore, you just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. "Do you have plans tonight?" Michael asked Jim, who pulled a tight-lipped smile, shaking his head.

"No, I don't. Remember when you told us not to make plans because we were working?" Jim said quickly, and you looked up at Michael, taking a second to eavesdrop: sure you wanted out of the building, but you didn't mind listening to whatever Michael had to gossip about.

"Yes, I remember." Michael nodded, stopping for a moment before letting out a groan. "This is B.S, this is B.S. Why are we here?" He exclaimed to the office, garnering everyone's attention. "I am gonna call corporate! Enough is enough. I'm, God, I'm so mad!" Michael yelled, heading into his office, and Jim gave you a look of confusion. Who knew what Michael was up to? "This is Michael Scott, Scranton. Well, we don't want to work. No, we don't! It's not fair to these people. These people are my friends and I care about them!!" Michael yelled the last sentence, and you could see Jim closing his eyes and shaking his head, and it made you smile a little wider. "We're not gonna do it!" Michael ended his call and walked back out into the main area, and you couldn't help the smirk on your lips.

"So?" You asked, and Michael stood in a power stance in the centre of the sale area.

"Everybody, I just got off the horn with corporate and basically, I told them where they could stick their little overtime assignment." Michael announced. "Go enjoy your Friday!"

"Thank you Michael." Dwight said loudly, starting a clap a few of your co-workers joined in on.

"Oh, well, I think we dodged a bullet there." Michael commented to Jim.

"I think you did."

"I think we should celebrate. How about you, Y/N, mi casa. A little dinner, dancing, drinks?" Michael proposed, and before Jim could refuse, he spoke again. "You said you didn't have plans." The shock on Jim's face was priceless, though it could be matched by the shock on your own. "That's what you said."

In truth, you had been asked to dinner by Michael at least nine times now. And you and Jim had managed to always deflect: someone was sick, or dead, or tax season, or whatever. And here you both were, sharing a look of disbelief at your boss' plan.

--

"I've got to admit, he got me." Jim confessed to the cameras. "Because I'm starting to suspect that there was no assignment from corporate."

--

"Do you think Michael realises that Jan hates me?" You asked Jim from the confines of his bathroom, talking loud enough that he could hear you from the hallway. You fixed your hair one last time, running your hands down your dress. It was sweet, the sort of thing you might wear out with Jim's parents for dinner, a jewel neckline short-sleeved dress that cinched in at the waist and went down to your knees. It was black with little red flowers printed on, and you had paired it with some low black heels and sheer tights. You wanted tonight to go well, even if Jan disliked you to an unfathomable degree.

"I think Michael has given up thinking. We need to go though, so..." Jim called from the hall, and you let out a laugh, blotting your lips once more before exiting the bathroom, Jim pushing himself off the wall as you did. A smile appeared on his face, and you did a quick twirl. "You look gorgeous, I love the dress." He complimented you, and you bit your lip.

"It has pockets." you responded, slipping your hands into the side of your dress, showing off the hidden design feature by wiggling your fingers.

"God, you're perfect." Jim breathed out gently, and you felt the blush on your cheeks. Even after months together, it still felt a little surreal to have him look at you like that: like you were the only girl in the world.

"Want me to drive?" You offered, taking the keys from his hands and making the way to his front door with a bounce in your step.

"Which one of us will be needing alcohol to survive tonight?" Jim asked, following you out to the car, locking the front door behind him. He had grabbed the bottle of wine you'd picked out earlier, a gift for your hosts.

"If it gets bad, we'll get a taxi back." You offered, and Jim nodded, getting in the passenger side of his car. The drive over to Michael's place was one you had made plenty of times before, and you were knocking on the front door of the condo within fifteen minutes of leaving Jim's. The door flew open, you coming face to face with Jan and offering a smile. It took a second for her body to register, her frown at your appearance switching to a practised grin.

"Hi, how are you?" Jan greeted, Jim gesturing for you to step in first.

"Hello! Come on in, amigos." Michael came into view as the door fully opened. "Good to see you." Michael smiled, giving you a hug as Jan wrapped herself around Jim.

"Thank you for having us." You responded, quickly pulling back and unbuttoning your coat.

"I'm so glad we finally got to do this with you guys." Jan said. "You wanna take their coats, babe?" Jan turned to Michael, who took a second before nodding.

"Yes, I would. Okay." Michael quickly helped you with your coat as Jim took his own off, Michael taking both and then promptly hanging them behind you. "So, what have you been doing?"

"Since... Since we saw you an hour ago?" Jim laughed through his words, his hand finding it's place on the small of your back. "We've been getting ready, then driving over here."

"Well, we've been doing pretty much the same thing... Except driving." Michael was never great at small talk, so you turned your attention to Jan, holding out the bottle of wine.

"We got you guys this." You said with a smile, doing your very best to avoid looking at Jan's chest, which was on full display thanks to her red v-neck top.

"Oh, well, Y/N. Thank you. This will be great to cook with." Jan said quickly, walking past you to place it in the kitchen. You and Jim shared a glance, neither of you saying a thing, but you knew if Jan continued with the passive-agressive behaviour, it would end up being a long night.

"So, come on in, make yourselves comfortable. This is our casa." Michael insisted, moving in between you and jim and taking you down the two steps from his entryway to the lounge.

"You guys have really decorated since the last time I was here, it's lovely." You complimented, and Jan looked between you and Michael.

"Huh, well then... what do you guys think? Should we do the tour first? Appetisers first?" Jan asked, looking more to Jim than you for an answer.

"Tour. Let's do the tour first." Jim decided, a smile on his face and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He sent a wink your way, and you smiled back.

"Okay! You have a preference babe? Upstairs first?" Jan asked Michael.

"Totally your call, babe."

"Alright, well, let's go then." Jan moved past you all, leading you all upstairs. Michael ahead of you, Jim behind, you turned to mouth the word 'babe' to your boyfriend, who did his best to stifle a laugh, urging you to follow the older couple up the stairs.

"So this, is my office." Jan opened the first door, showing a room that looked so remarakbly clean it was unsettling.

"Yep, never been used." Michael remarked.

"Not super exciting." Jan said with a terrifying grin on her face. She opened a door to the left of the office, walking straight in and gesturing for you and Jim to follow. "And this is my workspace."

"This is it. Check that out, you smell it?" Michael asked. You most certainly did. The scent of the candles surrounding you was borderline overwhelming. "As you can smell, there's a lot of odors going on in here."

"It's nice that you have an office separate from in here." you commented, and Jan nodded, taking a deep inhale.

"Yeah, it is. I just, I cannot create in the same space as I conduct business." Jan explained, and from the corner of your eye you could see Jim edging towards the doorway for some clean air. She held a candle up to your nose. "Smell that. It's bonfire." Jan urged, and you took a sniff. Michael was in the background doing his best Sean Connery impression, and Jan sighed. "You know, when I get frustrated, or irritated, or angry, I come up here and I just smell my candles!" Jan exclaimed. "And poof, it all goes away."

"Just like that?" Jim asked, having taken in enough fresh air that he could talk without inhaling.

"Just like that." Jan nodded, walking past the pair of you and towards another room. The look in Jim's eye was one of thanking God, he even took the time to shut the door over as Michael exited. "And this," Jan called from the other end of the hall, once again beckoning you to follow.

"We'll be here another ninety minutes..." You whispered to Jim in reassurance, taking his hand as you followed Michael. He squeezed back.

"This is the master bedroom, and these walls, they used to be, like, white. Like and asylum. So I wanted it to be softer, so I had it painted in eggshell white." Jan explained.

"Guess what? White and eggshell white are exactly the same colour." Michael said, following the comment with forced laughter. A few weeks ago, Oscar had told you about Michael's money problems, and Michael had come into the main office to declare bankruptcy, quite literally. By the look of the house, you had a feeling it wasn't Michael spending all of his earnings.

"Babe... I thought you said you were going to tidy things up." Jan said, noticing and quickly putting away a camcorder that sat on a tripod. "Shame on you." she slapped Michael playfully on the backside, and you shared yet another look with Jim.

"How about we go see the lounge?" You suggested, and Jim nodded quickly. "Did I see a plasma tv?" You asked, seeing Michael's eyes lit up.

"Yes, yes follow me." Michael led you all back down stairs, almost breaking into a jog as he stopped by a comically small tv mounted on the wall. "I finally broke down and bought myself a plasma tv. I actually hung this on the wall myself. Oh, I want to show you something. A lot of people in the room? You need more space? Voila, right into the wall." Michael pushed the slightly extended tv back into the wall, earning a sound of awe from Jim and a nod from you. "Sometimes, I will just stand here and watch television for hours. I love it. I love this tv." Michael looked at that tv with so much love it might as well have been his child. "Oh! I built this table too." He gestured to 4 planks of wood with a square block holding them together that percariously balanced a candle.

"What is that, chestnut?" Jim asked, playing along, his hand moving back to the small of your back and rubbing circles with his thumb.

"No, I believe it's pine or nordic cherry." Michael corrected, Jan muttering pine after him.

"Michael, I'm just terrible at all this stuff, so that's really cool." Jim falsely confessed, nodding in what Michael could only view as admiration. Despite knowing Jim's true capabilities with any sort of hard labour, you played along.

"Yeah, I asked him to set up my new computer system for me, and I couldn't get sound for a week or so. I couldn't figure out what he had done." You smiled up at him, biting your lip as he grinned back. Jan let out a little laugh that showed way too much teeth.

"If you ever need any help, I'm just a phone call away." Michael offered, and you nodded as Jan's smile disappeared.

"I bet you are." She muttered, but before anyone could question it the doorbell rang. Jan ran up to welcome the next set of guests, Michael gesturing for you both to sit as he followed. Another round of pleasantries followed at the door, Andy and Angela being welcomed in, the former armed with a bouquet of flowers so colourful your eyes hurt.

"Tuna! What, are we having Tuna for dinner?" Andy asked, continuing to use Jim's nickname outside of work. "Bet your sick of tuna, right? Have tuna every night?" Andy asked you with a nudge, and Jim let out a sigh.

"All right..." Jim stopped Andy's rambling, quickly changing the subject as Angela walked back into the lounge with Michael and Jan. "The Dundies! Nice to see them all there. I'm surprised they're not all out on the coffee table for everyone to see."

"Well, it was between the neon beer sign and the dundies. So I said, 'Honey, keep the trophies'." Jan answered instead of Michael as Andy sat himself down on the couch beside you.

"Oh honey, I have the best trophy right here." Michael wrapped an arm around Jan's waist, the pair sharing a quick embrace. "Aside from my dundies..."

"So, should we do the short tour and then I'll start dinner?" Jan suggested, and you stood up.

"I can help with what's left of dinner if you'd like?" You offered, and Jan held up a hand of refrain.

"Oh no, it's just the osso buco needs to braise for about three hours. Everything else is done." Jan said, and you had to stop your eyes from widening.

"Do you mean, like, three hours from now? Or three hours from like, 4 pm?" You asked, unsure if you had heard right. Surely Jan was not about to keep you all in the house until 11?

"You know, Y/N, in Spain they often don't start eating until midnight." Jan informed you, another passive-aggressive insult in your direction like you hadn't lived in the country for a year. The thing was, you had, and Jan was spouting bullshit. "Upstairs first? Let's go." Jan led Andy and Angela upstairs, Michael following. Once they were out of earshot, you whispered quietly.

"I'll need that drink..."

"I'll open the wine." Jim nodded, walking to the kitchen in a daze, pouring two glasses of wine, downing his own, then refilling before he came back over.

--

You had no idea how two people could be so unsuitably matched for one another and still end up together, but you were very aware that you were watching a relationship deteriorate over a game of charades. Jan's rude comments had been dispersed over you and Michael the entire evening, and Angela had only fueled the fire with her own opinions of you: it seemed that not helping her the week before with a client had backfired.

Jan took her first possible opportunity to change the subject away from Mcihael's terrible attempt at the party game, turning Hunter's CD on for the second time that evening and suggesting that we all just listened to the 'raw music'. In truth, the more you listened, the more you were certain that Jan had slept with her 23-year old assistant.

Your hand rubbed over your arm slowly, wishing you had dressed more appropriately. You knew you had in theory, but you had known Michael long enough to have prepared for a massive gaping hole in the wall covered in tarpaulin. Michael had informed you all that they were in the middle of replacing their sliding door. As soon as your boss caught you rubbing your arms to warm youself, he lifted the blanket from beneath him, offering it to you to keep warm.

"Thanks Michael." You said softly, wrapping it over your shoulders like a shawl, and smiling slightly in Jim's direction.

"You know, I'm so, so sorry for the temperature in her, Y/N. The uh, the sliding glass door shattered." Jan spoke up, and you looked over to her, shaking your head.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'm not even that cold." You protested, but Jan just tutted at you.

"It's actually a really cute story. Do you want to tell it, babe? No? It's a cute story, Michael ran through the sliding glass door because he thought he heard the ice cream truck." Jan let out some forced laughter in hopes the rest of the group might feign amusement, but no one else made a sound.

"Stop! Stop it. I mean, I like ice cream, ok? Sue me. Oh, wait, don't. I shouldn't say that jokingly because she will sue me! She loves to sue!" Michael proclaimed. Jan had tried to sue Dunder Mifflin at the start of the month, it had not been a pretty event. "You know what, babe? That glass door was so clean, it looked invisible."

"You are so right! The glass was always covered in smudges before I moved in! And I cleaned it, so I must be the devil!" Jan and Michael were trying to match each other's hysteria.

"You are! She is! She is the Devil! I'm in Hell!" Michael responded, and you quickly stood up.

"How about more wine? Andy, Jim? Yes?" You asked, starting towards the kitchen.

"No, let me do that Y/N. What sort of host would I be if I didn't get my guests wine. You know what? We'll make it a girls' trip. Girls' trip! Angela, come on." Jan screeched, the petite blonde letting out a strained sigh as she followed you both to the kitchen, Michael leading Andy and Jim to some other remote corner of the house.

"Not even close..." Jan spoke up, making her first task in the kitchen to check the braising dish in the oven.

"You keep a very clean house, Jan." Angela complimented, and Jan laughed, pouring more wine for herself and you. Angela was on water.

"You should see the bathroom after Michael takes a bath. Wow!" Jan chuckled, glancing over at you as you sipped the red. "I don't have to tell you that though, do I Y/N?" She commented, and you looked up.

"What?"

"Oh, don't tell me that he's really changed since you guys dated." Jan continued, and you had to refrain from spitting out the wine in your mouth.

"You... Jan, I never dated Michael. Ever. I mean, He's known me since I was eighteen I... I have never wanted to date Michael, ever." You clarified, setting down your wine.

"I see the way you look at him." Jan said, deadpan in her expression and tone, like she knew something about your fictional sex life with Michael.

"No, never..." You insisted, and Angela made a noise to your left.

"I mean, I've noticed how you look at him, Y/N. daddy issues and all that." She commented, giving you a sly smirk, Jan humming in agreement. You shot a glare Angela's way before touching your phone, trying to make a convincing face of genuine surprise.

"My phone is vibrating, excuse me." You quickly left the kitchen for a bathroom, closing over the door to get a breather. You had to find a way out of the party, anything to get you away from Jan and her chaos. With an idea in mind, you walked back out into the lounge, the men having returned from an adventure to God knows where.

"Hey, Y/N. I was just telling everyone." Jim said, stood in the room's centre. "My landlord just called, the apartment's flooded." He explained, and you put on a frown. He had thought the exact same scenario as you had, and you nodded.

"I'll get our coats." you said quickly, walking towards the entryway.

"Wait, both of you don't need to go." Michael pointed out, and you looked at Jim, his eyes guilty. He was going to leave you there, with Jan and Angela and charades and Big Tuna Andy.

"I mean, your landlord can deal with it for a few more hours right?" You asked. "It's not like we'll get another party like this again."

"I don't know sweetheart. All my stuff is at the apartment." Jim fought back, but you hung up his jacket. He wasn't leaving you in the tenth circle of Hell alone.

"But this party, Jim, surely you want to be here instead?" You implored, holding onto his arm. Your eyes were begging him to stay, and as he nodded, leading you back to the couch, a knock came on the door.

"Who is that? It's like, 10 o'clock..." Jan muttered, getting up and heading over, opening the door to Dwight and a stranger, armed with a cooler, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Hello." Dwight said with a smile, and you couldn't help your own as it erupted on your face, the look of dread on Angela's features making it even wider.

"What are you doing here?" Jan asked, folding her arms.

"We came here to eat dinner and to party. This is a dinner party, right?" Dwight said with a shrug.

"What is he doing here Michael?" Jan asked, Angela repeating the question.

"Dwight is my friend. You said that I could not invite Dwight because he was not part of a couple, and because we didn't have enough wine glasses. Dwight brought glasses and a person." Michael said slowly, trying to hide the smile on his own features.

"Fine, whatever you want. Just like always! Whatever you want." Jan raised her voice with each statement.

"Whatever I want? It's never whatever I want. When I wanted to see Stomp, and you wanted to see Wicked, which did we see? Wicked! When I said that I wanted to have kids, and you said you wanted me to have a vasectomy, what did I do? And then, when you said you might want to have kids and I wasn't so sure,  who had that vasectomy reversed? And then when you said you definitely didn't want kids who had it reversed back? Snip, snap! Snip, snap! Snip, snap! I did! You have no idea the physical toll that three vasectomies have on a person! And, and I bought this condo to fill with children!" Michael finally took a breath, a timer ringing in the kitchen, indicating that the braised dish was finally fucking ready. But you were gripped, so disgusted by how much you now knew about Michael that you couldn't look away.

"I am so sorry that I don't want to bring kids into this screwed up world, ok?  But look, if you want to have kids, then fine, you win. Let's have a fucking kid!" Jan yelled, taking a moment before heading to the kitchen, letting out a sob as she went.

"So... Can we come in?" Dwight asked from the awning.

--

You were counting down seconds at this point, thanking Jan silently as she set food down in front of you. All you had wanted from tonight was some dinner and polite chatter, and now, looking at the dry meat and questionable rice in fornt of you, you wondered if you'd even be able to eat what had been prepared. It looked like someone had thrown it up onto you plate, and you were beginning to envy Dwight's turkey leg, the man sat beside you on a camping chair, digging into it along with some beet salad.

"So, how do you and Dwight know each other?" Jim, one hand on your leg, the other holding his wine glass, was addressing the older woman Dwight had brought as a companion; she looked old enough to be your grandmother.

"I was his babysitter." The woman said, biting into a chunk of squash.

"It's purely canral, and that's all you need to know." Dwight added, taking another chunk of his turkey leg as he spoke through the chewing.

"Can I get your email? I have so many questions..." Jim asked the woman by his side, who looked more than a little confused.

"What's an email?"

Michael, at the head of the table, took a moment to dip a forkful of meat into his wine glass out of nowhere, causing Jan to sigh loudly at the table's other end. You poured more wine into your near empty glass, glad Jim had found the courage to switch to water and sober up; you certainly wouldn't.

"Can you not do that? It's disgusting." she said quietly, causing Michael to look up from his food.

"You know I have soft teeth. How could you say that?" He asked, giving Jan a pointed stare. When she rolled her eyes in response, Michael's cutlery clatterd against his plate, and he pushed his chair out from the table. "Excuse me a second." He left through the kitchen, heading to the garage. You knew this because when Jim had managed to leave for the bathroom, he texted you explaining how Michael had offered both he and Andy a chance to invest in Jan's company while they toured Michael's 'gym'.

"I really like the meal, Jan." You said to break the silence.

"You haven't eaten anything. Don't lie." She snapped back, and you began massaging the side of your forehead. Maybe with enough merlot you would forget what even happened that night.

Michael returned a minute or so later, carrying a large object in his right hand. He walked all the way around the table to get back to his seat, and set about removing the abstract painting from the wall and replacing it with the neon beer sign Jan had mentioned hating earlier in the night. The hum of the light fixture was nothing compared to the sheer brightness of it, the entire dining area and kitchen being bathed in the blue light.

"Ok! Everybody enjoying their meal?" Michael asked with a smile, settling back into his chair.

"Hey babe? How about we take the beer sign down until our guests leave, and then we can discuss it?" Jan proposed, and Michael shook his head, feeding himself another mouthful of rice.

"No, no. I'm gonna leave it up. I think it ties the whole room together." Michael spoke through a full mouth. And it seemed the neon sign was the last straw for his 'babe'.

"Ok." Jan squeaked, throwing down her napkin and standing from the table, walking to the CD player and putting Hunter's god awful music back on, beginning to sway to the guitar and vocals.

"Jan thinks Hunter's very talented." Michael spoke over the music, prompting Jan to turn it up louder. "You know what? I don't think he's that good."

"At least he's an artist." Jan dragged her words out, her eyes closed and head tilted back.

"B.F.D. I'm a screenwriter." Michael said through another mouthful of food.

"And I'm a candlemaker but you don't hear me bragging about it!" Jan yelled, and you set down your napkin, beginning to look for the easiest escape.

"No, all you do is you get me to try and work on my rich friends." Michael proposefully dipped a chunk of osso buco into his wine, chomping down on it while glaring at his significant other.

"For an investment opportunity!"

"Man, I would love to burn your candles!

"You burn it, you buy it!"

"Oh, good, I'll be your first customer!"

"You're hardly my first."

"... That's what she said!"

With the speed of lightning, Jan turned from the dinner party, grabbing one of Michael's many Dundies from the shelf and launching it at the TV. Michael rose from his seat, walking quickly to see if it was real, if she had really just broken his tv.

"That is a $200 plasma screen TV you just killed!" Michael shouted, and you quickly got up from your chair, Jim following suit, walking around the table with your wine glass and finishing the contents. "Good luck paying me back on your zero dollars a year salary plus benefits, babe!"With that, Jan ran off, and you took your cue.

"Thanks for inviting us Michael." you said quickly, dropping the blanket Michael gave you in place of your coat, Jim helping you slip it on before seeing to himself.

"Aw no, guys, she'll be out of the bathroom soon." Michael tried to get everyone to stay, but Angela and Andy were heading for the coats too, Jim quickly heading back inside for a moment, and the turning off of Hunter's CD gave way to the sirens of a police car approaching.

You were the first to leave the house, heading straight for the car, Jim following as the police came up the driveway. You didn't need to see the aftermath, neither of you did, and before anyone could tell you to stay, and before Michael guilt tripped you into something as stupid as this dinner party, Jim had reversed out of the driveway and sped off down the road, heading for the nearest all night fast food place.

"That was... Traumatic." Jim said after a few minutes, and you nodded in response, eyes glued to the road ahead. "You know what though? I learned a few things."

"Really? Like what?" You asked, Jim making the turn into the drive-thru, taking a few moments to order before turning back to you.

"Well, I now know Michael had three vasectomies, Dwight's babysitter is a cougar, and whatever Michael and Jan have isn't love." He said decidedly, paying for and taking the food from the window attendant.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." You managed to laugh, finally taking your eyes off your focus point and looking at Jim as he parked the car, offering you a burger and fries. You found yourself smiling a little, taking the food and unwrapping the burger quickly, taking a bite and letting out a moan of relief. You were starving.

"And, I love you." Jim said quickly, causing you to stop, and swallow your bite.

"What?"

"I mean, I've been in love with you for a really long time now, like, way too long... Since you got back from Europe too long, but I haven't said it yet. So, I'm saying it now." Jim couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he looked at you. "I love you."

"I love you too." You said with not a moment of hesitation, your cheeks flushed red, His hand resting on your leg.

"Oh, uh, I got you something... But I did a bad thing to get it." Jim said quickly, taking a bite of his burger. You did the same, looking at him to explain further. In response, he lifted up a CD case, a picture of Hunter on the cover. "I stole this." He said after swallowing, and you let out a laugh, helping him open it and slot the CD into the car's stereo.

"Jim, you know..." You spoke over the music, taking a few chips and chewing them thoughtfully. "Maybe this should be the song we play during our first dance... Really sets the mood, doesn't it?"

"I say I love you and now we're onto marriage, huh?" Jim teased, and your eyes widened.

"It was just a joke I-I..."

"Calm down Y/L/N, take it easy. It's coming." He said with confidence, and you turned your whole body towards him.

"What's coming?"

"A proposal. When you least expect it. I promise you that." Jim responded, the pair of you unable to hold back the joy you shared.

Maybe the dinner party hadn't been so bad.

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward @poppirocks @rosie2801 @onceuponahuntersrealm @aziggya @suitelifeofafangirl @legendaryoafhairdozonk @dxbriksx @retrodrummers @sugar-snap @art-flirt

#jim halpert x reader #au #jim halpert #michael scott #pam beesly #dwight schrute #reader insert #the office #office au #jim x reader #reader #reader is female #romance #friendship #slow burn #honeymoon phase #from season one #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #dunder mifflin #john krasinski #steve carell #jenna fischer #rainn wilson #fluff #jackryanplz #part twenty three