#theory: everyone stays as long as they do in that fucked up little job because alice stays

[lostlavenderer]

I love Sam as our protag and I appreciate Lena as our new ominous office manager but sorry neither of them stand a chance. that entire office is literally just 'Alice Dyer and people who are irrevocably undeniably intensely in love with Alice Dyer' with not even a single exception

#she's the ONLY PERSON COLIN LIKES #Lena respects her????? #GWEN WAS BLOODY FLUSTERED ABOUT THE MERE THOIGHT OF ALICE BEING NICE TO HR #Teddy and Sam are a given do I even have to go over why they are ib love w her #Celia will be too. just you wait #I can tell lesbianism because I am in fact a raging lesbian #alice dyer the woman you are #tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 11 #colin becher #gwen bouchard #lena kelly #samama khalid #teddy vaughn #celia ripley #I wouldnt even be surprised if mr bonzo would fall for her #like have you heard her. I couldn't blame him frankly #alice dyer #theory: everyone stays as long as they do in that fucked up little job because alice stays #can you blame them

[auteurdelabre]

A Little Sun pt 1 DieterBravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (future chapters)

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x f! Reader (no detailed physical descriptions, no use of y/n)

summary: As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way. (plot prompt inspired by 'Daddy Dieter' by @absurdthirst on Ao3 - read their story, its really wonderful!)

warnings/tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Surrogacy, Family Issues, Sweet!Dieter, Drugs, Alcohol, Getting Drunk, Boss/Employee Relationship,

a/n: I am actively tryin' to make everyone a Dieter Bravo stan. He is slept on in this fandom istg.

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

Part 1: First Trimester

"With every newborn baby, a little sun rises." - Irmgard Erath

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

Being actor Dieter Bravo's assistant comes with many boons. You get to hob-knob with celebrities, attend galas and parties, get to travel the world and you get paid decently. The downside?

You have to work for Dieter man-child Bravo. 

He's an impossibly immature, inconsiderate man who's flakier than your mother's pie dough. 

When he isn't being a walking hypocrite who won't eat processed foods but has no problem taking copious amounts of coke, he's making your life a living hell. He loves to party and experiment with whatever drug is in vogue. Too often you're scraping him off a club floor and dragging him home. 

One memorable experience was flying by private jet over to Moscow to bring him home for the Academy Awards (which he fucking won because some people have all the luck) after he'd followed some hot Russian male model there and Dieter was convinced he was going to give up his citizenship and stay in Russia forever. 

Your mother cannot stand him. She reads about his exploits in the tabloids. She thinks your job is a waste of your talents.

She's not wrong. 

But this will all be worth it when you have enough to pay off the mortgage on your family home. As soon as you can your mother can stop working herself into an early grave pulling double shifts at the hospital.

You'll be able to move out into your own place and then you'll be able to finally go back to school and finish your Masters program. The one you had to quit so you could help support your mom after your father unexpectedly died. 

You'd been lucky to land the gig with Bravo. Plucked from the group of giggling models who whispered how excited they were to have Dieter Bravo as their boss. You held your resume and reference letters tightly, your mind focused on the salary listed. 

When you walked into the office to be interviewed with your long sleeves, high neckline and impressive resume his manager had been intrigued. When she asked what your favorite Dieter Bravo movie was and you had replied "Uh, I don't think I've seen many of his movies" she had given a wry smile and declared you a perfect fit for the job and hired you on the spot.  

Dieter had been disappointed. You remember the way his eyes roved over your body in your frumpy clothes and your serious face. He had been looking for fun. You weren't fun. 

You were a planner. You were someone who liked doing her job well. And your job was him. Getting him to set on time, organizing his appointments, dropping him with his publicist Diane so she could stop him from saying dumb shit to the tabloids when they cornered him and asked about his ex boyfriend or girlfriend. 

You put up with a lot of his shit. 

You also listen to a lot of the shit he says. The theories he has about the Hollywood elite, the creative outlets he wants to pursue, the scripts he has to read. You've learned to tune out his really stupid ideas. 

The idea of fatherhood comes to Dieter after his latest relationship crashes and burns. In typical Bravo fashion it's a spur of the moment event. A decision with no forethought. He mentions it casually over breakfast as you run through his schedule for the day.

"I'm gonna be a dad."

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky lady?" you reply drolly, bringing up his schedule on the tablet in your hand. 

"Dunno. Haven't decided yet." He leans back in his chair, serene smile on his face.

You keep in the eye roll and go over what he's doing that day. He continues looking dreamily off into the distance, not paying attention. 

You assume that this baby thing is similar to the goat therapy sanctuary: an amusing idea that strikes him as fun and that will exit as quickly and quietly as it arrived in his brain. 

But a month later Dieter comes home in a foul mood slamming the door to his large home behind him. 

"I thought you women wanted commitment!"

You look up from your desk. You've been busy all morning managing his socials. "Huh?"

"You remember my ex? Annika?"

"Yeah."

"We broke up because she wanted kids and I didn't," Dieter says throwing himself dramatically into the chair opposite you. "So I figure she's perfect for this! I went to see her and told her I wanted to settle down and have a baby."

"And what did she say?"

"To leave her dentist's office and never contact her again."

"Wait," you lower your phone. "You went to her dentist's office?"

"That's where her fiancé said she was and I couldn't wait!"

"Her fiancé told you that?"

"Yeah," Dieter groans, not seeing how it was inappropriate. "I'm getting older by the second. I don't wanna be too old to be a dad."

You hold in a sigh, seeing that he's beside himself. Dieter is a successful actor, this is true. But he's just as famous for his hard-partying and wild sex-capades. No woman in her right mind would willingly have a child with such a man. 

"If you're that desperate to be a dad then adopt," you say trying to hold in your disdain. You don't think Dieter Bravo should be anywhere near anything to do with a child. And you know he won't be approved for adoption so there's no harm in suggesting it.  

"No. I want to pass on my genes."

You give him a raised brow in return. The same genetics that give him his impossibly luscious hair and beautiful brown eyes are also responsible for his love for drugs and spontaneous decision making. 

"What did your friend Becky do again?" Dieter asks sitting cross-legged in his chair. "The one who couldn't get pregnant with her husband?"

You're shocked he remembers this tidbit of your life at all. You kind of just assume he's not listening all that closely when you talk about a topic that doesn't directly involve him. 

"Surrogacy. She paid someone else to carry her kid."

"Amazing," Dieter says slapping the desk in delight. "That's what I'll do! Obviously I want them to have all my hot characteristics. But I need the ying to my yang so the kid's balanced ya know?"

You don't mention that this is dangerously close to playing with eugenics. Instead you just nod, reading your work phone and then typing in more info onto the tablet.

This is a Bravo phase. It'll pass.

He gets like this about projects that initially interest him, but sooner or later he'll be pulled back into the lure of partying and drugs and easy men and women to warm his bed. 

Dieter is watching you, studying you as you work. You've been his assistant for a year and you're good at what you do, despite your personality clashes. He drums his fingers on the desk, eyes narrowing on you.

"I need someone educated." 

"Mhmmm." You're really only half listening at this point. 

"Where did you go to school again?"

"Stanford."

Dieter nods, bringing a knee to his chest and balancing against it. He reminds you of a bored child. 

"Right, that's what I thought," Dieter nods, watching you type quickly away on the keyboard. 

You're very good at your job, very organized, very sharp. When he arrives at galas you're always there at his elbow to remind him of everyone's name in a whisper. You've never let him down.

You're good looking, even if you try to hide it under ugly clothes and hair you don't give a second thought to. He tilts back, trying to imagine you pregnant. Would your tits get bigger? The thought is very enticing.

"Cancer or heart disease run in your family?"

This draws your attention up from your phone which you now lower to the table and fix him with a dark look. 

"If you're suggesting what I think you are, you can stop right there."

"Why?" Dieter asks, eyes wide and pleading. "Our baby would be perfect! My looks, your brains!"

"Or your brains and my looks," you scoff, although you don't think you're that bad looking. "Besides, I have no interest in having children."

Especially with you.

You've never understood the appeal of children, especially babies. But if you were to be fooled into thinking that it was a wise venture the last person on the face of the planet you would do so with would be the man seated across from you.  

"I'll pay you!"

You lower the cell phone to the desk, trying not to come off too judgmental. He is your boss after all and you need the work.  

"You really think you're ready for fatherhood, Dieter?"

He looks affronted. "Of course I am."

"You think doing coke, partying and jetting off to different sets to film all over the world is really the best thing for a child?"

"Lots of actors have kids and-"

"You think a man who relies on his staff to keep him fed and his house clean could really understand the responsibility that comes along with raising a child?" You scoff. "Have you ever even changed a diaper?"

"I wasn't born into this life," Dieter says between clenched teeth. "I know how to make a fucking bed and change a diaper. I've changed diapers before. Remember that Mister Mom reboot I did?"

You do all you can not to burst out laughing at that. He's talking about the "parent boot camp" he and his co-star on the film had to go through in order to play parents convincingly. It included a two-day workshop on diaper changing, bottle feeding and basic child development. 

Apparently it had been a little too convincing because after that movie his female co-star had claimed to have no interest in having children ever. 

"You think a man who has to have a full time personal assistant and two publicists just to keep his image decent Is the kind of person who should be bringing a child into the world?" You scoff. "You think-"

"I get it!" Dieter erupts, throwing himself from his chair. "You think I'm a piece of shit that should never have children! Thanks. Message received."

You watch him stalk off, a pit in your stomach. 

///

Another month rolls by, one marked by strain on your end. Ever since you're heavy chat with Dieter he's been a little colder to you, a little more withdrawn. 

At least once a week before his outburst Dieter would insist you stay for dinner to run lines with him. He doesn't do that anymore. Before your fight he'd order your favorite meal from the Pad Thai place nearby and you'd spend a few hours going through the lines with him. 

You liked having a front row seat to the Dieter Bravo show because he's a good actor. He likes red wine when he's running lines. He always offers you a glass and you always decline because it's unprofessional to drink on the job. 

On those evenings you find it easier to chat with Dieter about life. Those evenings you don't have to worry about getting him to interviews or fetching him coffee. 

He asks you about your friends and family and you tell him surface level things. He doesn't know about your mom's long hours and a mortgage you can barely afford. He doesn't need to know. 

You never realized how much you enjoyed those nights until they stopped

///

You're in his town car driving with him to a Vanity Fair interview the following month. One where they hook him up to a lie detector. You're very thankful that you're not his publicist on days like this because you can only imagine what they'll be asking him and what his answers will be. 

Today will be spent grabbing him coffees and making sure he doesn't pass out in the green room. For his last BuzzFeed interview he'd been so out of it you'd had to pretend he had a dental emergency and cancel at the last second. 

"Okay so after this then you're meeting that French director about the Regency piece," you tell him as you check his schedule. It's packed full of things he needs to accomplish. 

"Mhmmm."

Dieter has his sunglasses on despite it being overcast today in LA. He's got his black crocs on underneath striped socks and he taps them gently as he stares out the window at the passing LA landscape.

"And then we need to go for your tux fitting for the-"

"I know you think it's a terrible idea," Dieter interrupts sullenly. "But I found someone to have my baby."

You pause what you were about to say, glancing over to him in interest. He's staring at you, sunglasses tipped down his nose so he can fix you with an intense stare.

"She's a model," he tells you like a petulant child. "Stunning. My child will be beautiful."

"Congratulations," you say after a beat. Dieter gives a scoff.

"That's all you have to say?" 

"Do you want me to organize a flash mob?" You say with a curl of your lip. "I hope she signed an NDA."

"Of course she did," Dieter sneers. "And since I'm paying her $75,000 for it she won't say a damn thing."

"Well then, good luck," you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. "I hope you and your future child are very happy."

"We will be. I'm going to love that kid to death," he tells you ardently. "My kid is never going to go without."

You can see Dieter narrow his eyes before pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. He leans back in his seat, looking sour. 

Despite everything you feel a stab of regret go through you. There are plenty of worse people in the world that have children. Because yes, Dieter is immature and yes he has his vices, but you've seen him with his young fans. He's a natural, more at ease with them than the adults who try to get too close for photos. 

"I'm genuinely happy for you," you tell him. "Your child will be very lucky to have a father that loves them so much." 

It never takes much to thaw the ice from Dieter Bravo. He likes being liked too much. He flashes you his megawatt smile that you return before turning back to his schedule.  

"Alright so, after the tux fitting..."

///

You give a sigh, shrugging off your jacket and padding to your kitchen later that evening. Your mom is there, sipping her nightly tea. She looks more tired than you, despite you working a fifteen hour day. 

She gives your forehead a kiss, telling you there's leftovers waiting for you in the fridge before brushing the hair from your eyes. 

"You're home late."

"Busy day," you yawn, grabbing dinner leftovers from the fridge and nuking them in the microwave. "He had a bunch of meetings, fittings, had to run through his script a few times."

You sit down with your dinner, taking a forkful and eating quickly. You're exhausted and tomorrow will be much of the same. It's always like this around award season. 

"Shocked he didn't get you to read him a bedtime story too," your mother scowls. She's never hidden her disdain for Dieter. 

You smile, thinking that if Dieter knew a bedtime story was an option he would probably take it. You know he hates being alone. 

The ping from your phone draws your attention. You have an alert set to Dieter’s name, just in case you and Diane need to work overtime on a Bravo-related catastrophe. But when you click on the link it goes to a Reddit thread from the Dieter Bravo subreddit. You glance and see its just one of the run-of-the-mill tabloid photos.

Every so often you're caught in them, listed as "Bravo employee". The first time it had happened you'd been mortified by the unflattering photo of you reading out Dieters schedule as he smoked a cigarette, looking off into the distance.

In these photos today much like the others you're on your phone mid-sentence. Dieter is smiling at you, hand holding his coffee by the top. It's fairly innocuous as far as photos go but the comments are anything but.

Do u think he's hooking up with his PA? Look at these photos.

It's called a job people! She has to be with him all the time.

He looks so fucking hot

Gross no.

I think he's hooking up with Luke Evans??

I will now be identifying as a coffee cup

She's literally looking at her phone. How is this anything?

It's giving secret romance look at their body language

Omg his hands are so big.

I bet he's crazy in bed.

They've totally hooked up

He's so into her look at how he's looking at her!

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh out loud. Your mother glances over at you and shakes her head.

"When are you going to quit working for that loser and go back to school?"

Your mom doesn't really understand why you quit school. She would feel like a burden if she did. But every month you pay off more and more of her mortgage, the better and freer you feel. It’ll be a few years more, but you can manage.

"Soon," you tell your mother with a small smile. “Soon.”

///

"Fuck I hate these things," Dieter says in the back of a limo a few weeks later. You're all headed to a film and theatre awards show. 

"Since when?"

"Since I have to present an award and I'm sober." 

“You are?”

This surprises you. Rarely has Dieter Bravo ever been sober during awards season. Even the year he won his Oscar he'd been flying high before his name was even engraved on the statuette. 

You go to grab your second phone, wanting to check something about scheduling when you realize your purse is back at Dieters. Fuck. You'll have to stop there on your way back tonight. 

"You look nice," he tells you offhandedly as he tugs at his bow tie. He usually sees you in jeans and a t-shirt. Tonight your hair is sleek, your makeup glamorous and your dress feminine and lacy. 

"Yeah well I heard Robert Pattinson will be there tonight," you say with a small smile. "Gonna shoot my shot."

Dieter rolls his eyes dramatically at this before his publicist Diane draws his attention to some talking points. 

"You need to return the watch before you hit up the after parties," she says, motioning to his wrist where he wears a diamond encrusted timepiece from Cartier.

"Aye aye captain."

When the limo pulls up to the red carpet surrounded on both sides by groups of screaming fans you see Dieter swallow. 

He loves a lot about acting, but this? The rabid fans, the constant screaming of his name? It stresses him out. He's told you this many times before. 

Despite your irritation with Dieter most days, there is a part of you that genuinely enjoys his company. He's creative and funny and blunt in a way that you appreciate. 

"You've got this Bravo," you tell him, squeezing his hand reassuringly before pulling back. He smiles at you, slipping on his sunglasses and taking a deep breath. 

You and Diane exit out the left side doors as Dieter exits out the right onto the red carpet. Screams at ear -splitting volumes begin the second his boot hits the carpet. 

"I LOVE YOU DIETER!'

"OMG ITS HIM!"

"He's so hot!"

"Do you think he's gonna do something weird?"

"DIETER SIGN MY BOOBS!"

Dieter waves and smiles, ignoring the more bizarre requests. His publicist warned him if he is serious about having a kid he needs to work on his image. You wonder how long this will last.

"Dieter Bravo have my baby!" One woman of about fifty shouts holding a hand towards him in desperation. Dieter waves at her and she looks as if she might faint. 

"There you go," you whisper to his back as he moves to the next photographer. "If the model doesn't work out at least you have options." 

He smirks at you before going to pose for the litany of flash bulbs and photographers. 

Inside the auditorium you and Diane guide Dieter behind the stage. He's paired up to present with an up and coming actress who makes moon eyes up at him. Her name is Mia Rowe and she's as gorgeous in real life as she is talented. 

"Hi Mr. Bravo," she says batting her eyes up at him. 

"Hi beautiful," Dieter purrs. You hold in an eye roll, sure to take note of this woman. Odds are you'll be calling her a cab from Dieter's place later this evening. 

"Bravo! I was hoping you'd be here!"

A tall blonde man with perfect teeth walks over, dressed in a form fitting tux. It makes Dieters bright pink checkered tux look cartoonish, but that's kinda what you liked about it. 

Corey Brigham, the UK's answer to what would happen if you created the most handsome yet unlike-able person on the planet. He and Dieter go way back, both big in the party and drug scene.

"Was hoping you'd be here," Corey says with a wink, tapping his breast pocket. "I was just heading to the bathroom if you'd care to join."

"I'm not uh, doing that tonight," Dieter says to his friend. "Just sticking to booze."

You overhear this, surprised. You wonder if this is to do with his desire for fatherhood. If so you're a little impressed. Mia looks up at Dieter with a curious expression. As if she's impressed as well, or perhaps that she's surprised Dieter isn't what she expected. 

The alcohol is flowing backstage and since you're a lightweight it takes very little to have you giggling behind your hand. 

You never drink at these things, but once Dieter is done presenting your off for the night. You can enjoy yourself a little bit, especially when the booze is high end and free.

When Dieter presents the award with Mia you're very proud to see him sticking to his lines and being professional.

"Fuck, I have to go," Diane announces to you midway through the show, clutching her cellphone. "My kids in the hospital, the nanny just texted."

"Oh my gosh," your hand goes to hers. "Is everything okay?"

"He's had an allergic reaction," Diane says, her eyes wet. "I'm supposed to make sure Dieter returns the watch-"

"Go!" You insist, pushing her gently. "I'll make sure he returns it."

"I couldn't-"

"Go!"

Diane shoots you a grateful smile before tucking herself when you to her purse and making a mad dash for the exit. You watch from behind the curtain as the awards ceremony starts.

You decline further drinks after the midpoint, but you're still more than a little tipsy when you walk over to wrangle Dieter at the end of the show. He usually loves to hit up the after parties and you need to make sure he returns the Cartier watch before he goes. 

You tap him on his broad shoulder, interrupting what seems to be a very intense (flirtatious) conversation with a redhead with the best pair of fake tits you've ever seen.  

He turns irritated at first but his face quickly blooms into amusement as you stare up at him wavering slightly on your feet. 

"Well, well, well," Dieter says smugly. "Miss Professional is drunk."

"I am not!" You insist, trying as hard as you can to keep the slur from your voice. "I'm just... I just had a little."

"You're slurring."

"Am not."

"Sure," Dieter laughs. "I bet you can't even walk in a straight line."

You immediately put one foot in front of the other, making a straight line from one side of the hallway floor to the other. You shoot him a victorious smile as he claps.

"My mistake," he drawls. "You’re obviously sober. I must have just overlooked that you always walk around with your eyes half open." 

The redhead, irritated at being ignored gives a small sigh through her nose before bidding Dieter a sharp goodbye. You watch her walk off and grimace. 

"Well you just cost me a date for the after party," Dieter laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders and walking towards the entrance where photographers have gathered. 

"Don't do that," you grumble. "Someone'll take a photo and get the wrong idea."

Dieter straightens immediately, but the amusement is still there in his features. 

"So I guess you're gonna have to be my date," he teases, knowing full well how much you hate parties and that you'd never be invited in. 

"Yeah right," you sneer. "I'd rather slide down a banister of razors into a pool of lemon juice."

"Guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me company then," Dieter says before winking at you. "I'll be at the Chateau Marmont if you change your mind."

He's out the door and in his limo before you remember why you needed to talk to him. 

The fucking watch!

Cartier will have a fit if it's not returned this evening and Diane will be so disappointed in you on top of a very stressful night for her. 

You have to run about three blocks in your heels to find a taxi to drive you. Traffic is majorly backed up thanks to the award ceremony and it takes you over an hour to get to Chateau Marmont. 

At first the front desk won't let you past the entryway even when you tell them who you work for. You collapse onto a chair and try in vain to call Dieter. Not shockingly he doesn't pick up. 

It's not until Mia Rowe arrives amidst screaming paparazzi and sees you near tears that she takes your hand and cites that you're with her. You thank her profusely and make a mental note to see every one of her movies in theaters for the rest of your life. 

She's walks with you into the bustling party before releasing your hand and wishing you good luck. It doesn't take long to find Dieter in the crowd, you simply have to go to where there's the most noise. 

He's in the middle of the group regaling them with one of his stories about the horrors of filming cliff beasts 5. He's got his arm around a young, very good looking Latin man you think is a singer. You watch as Dieter breaks off from what he was saying to kiss the young man thoroughly, tongues dueling as the music pulse around you.  

Shit that's hot.

You don’t often see Dieter in the throes of passion but you’ve walked in on Dieter with his fair share of men and women waking up after a rowdy party or two. Seeing him here though with the club music like a heartbeat in your abdomen and his full mouth pressed to the handsome man’s makes you feel… something.

The two break apart and Dieter is about to say something more to the group when his eyes land on you. 

"You made it!" Dieter slurs happily when you make your way towards him. "Take a shot!"

The crowd around him cheers as he produces a shot glass for you. Everyone is either coked out of their minds or massively drunk. It makes you jealous that your job has no glamour whatsoever.

"Here! Take a shot!" Dieter insists. "It's called the Bravo because uh... I forgot. But it’s good!"

You stumble over to him, not wanting to draw too much attention to the million dollar piece he's currently wearing on his wrist. Your mouth goes to his earlobe, lower lip catching the cool metal of his earring and the young man at his left shoots daggers at you.

"Dieter no, I need to return the-"

"The watch, I know," Dieter says with a smirk, his whisky tainted breath huffing along your cheeks. "I knew you'd have to come here to get it."

That asshole. 

"You think I have nothing better to do than chase you all over this fucking city?" you shout, barely heard over the thrumming music. 

Dieter just looks down at you amused and drunk. "Oh loosen up. I'll give you the watch."

"Good." You hold out your hand which he promptly places a shot glass into. 

"As soon as you have a drink with me."

"I can't-"

You want to deny him this, to just get the watch and go to Cartier. But you're still tipsy and you're at a Hollywood after party and wait-

"Is that Robert Pattinson?" You croak pointing to a handsome figure entering the room. Dieter squints over before nodding and smiling crookedly. 

"Twilight himself."

Holy shit. 

"Okay," you say, smoothing your hair back. "One drink."

///

You're both absolutely obliterated by the time you head to Dieters limo and you're not sure who is worse. 

You think you must be decently in control of your faculties because at least you remember to tell the limo to stop at Cartier where a very angry employee is waiting. 

"So sorry," you slur at him as you pass him the watch in its box over the counter sheepishly. He makes you sign something before you clamor back into the limo next to Dieter who is drinking straight out of a whisky bottle. 

He offers you the bottle and you take a sip. Just to be polite.

Then another sip to be extra polite. 

"Robert Pattinson was so nice," you tell Dieter for the third time since you left the party. "And so handsome."

"He's not that handsome," Dieter says, sounding like he's underwater. "Where d'you live?"

"Over there," you say pointing in the general direction of your house. Dieter nods, telling the impossibly patient driver to go left. 

"Wait my keys are at your house," you slur, eyes only half open. "How m'I gonna get in my house?"

"You need your keys," Dieter says loudly. "Less'go! My house!" 

You're both barely able to walk when you come back to Dieter's place, dropped off by his limo. Like two chums you wrap your arms around each other's shoulders and trudge up his steps. 

He drops his keys twice before opening the door with a groan.

"I hate wearing this stuff," he complains, pulling at the bow tie. You want to tell him that he looks nice but your mouth doesn't seem to be keeping up with your brain. 

Dieter pulls off his bowtie, letting it drop to the floor. You do the same with your shoes, hating how they feel after hours on end.

"Want a drink?"

"Yes!"

"Me too!"

You both look at each other, waiting for the other person to pour the drink before collapsing into giggles. When you finally stop Dieter trips over to his bar and pours two shots of expensive vodka, spilling all over the bar top. You clink glasses and throw the shots back. 

In habit Dieter turns the sprawling television on. The first thing that pops up is the discovery Channel and a documentary on giraffes. You both make a cooing sound when the camera pans to an unsteady baby giraffe just starting to walk. 

"Awww I love baby animals," you say feeling oddly emotional at the tiny creature. 

"I want one so bad," Dieter hiccups beside you.

"A giraffe?"

"No a baby-baby," Dieter pouts. "Want to give it everything I didn't have as a kid."

You've never really understood why Dieter wanted a baby until recently and in this moment you find his reasoning to be impossibly sweet. 

"That's so nice!" You enthuse, finding it hard not to shout. The liquor is soaring through your veins. "You're so nice!"

Dieter smiles crookedly at you. "You think so?"

"Yeah!"

"Then why are you so mad at me all the time?" Dieter sways on his feet. "I'm so nice to you."

"You are not," you say plainly. "You're obnoxious. You do drugs so often you forget you have obligations. So then I have to babysit you so you don't get sued. You make my job stressful!"

"Oh." 

Dieters head pitches forward and you can see that his eyes are closed. You've hurt him. That makes your drunken brain panic.

"But you're also really nice," you slur, gripping him by the forearm and shaking. "'Member you got me that really nice painting for my birthday?"

Dieter nods. The painting in question is of a beautiful woman overlooking the sea from behind, her stance filled with determination and her hair drifting in the breeze. It's as beautiful as it is vibrant and you'd been shocked when it arrived on your doorstep the morning of your birthday. Diane had mailed it, you recognized her handwriting. 

Your mom had been amazed at it when you brought it in and opened it, citing that you needed to hang it somewhere you could look at it all day. So you had, hanging it on the wall opposite your bed. It's the first and last thing you look at every day. The woman in the portrait 

"That was so nice!" You pause as your fuzzy brain tries to recall. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"You gave me a thank you card and then told me to get ready for my BuzzFeed interview," Dieter shrugs, but that's your answer right there. He pours you both another shot of vodka which you both drink quickly. 

"I have it hung up in my house," you tell him honestly. "It's in my room. I look at it every day. It's so beautiful. And nice of you!" 

Nice is the only adjective that your addled brain can come up with tonight. Dieter smiles at you, a sweet little smile that has you smiling back at him. But then his handsome face crumples.

"If I'm so nice why does no one want to make a baby with me? Why do I have to pay that model?"

"I dunno," you answer honestly because right now in your drunken haze you don't really get why Dieter is single. He's handsome, rich and talented. Sure he likes cocaine and partying but there are worse things, surely! 

"I know why," he says in a sad rasp. "S'cuz I'm unlovable."

"That's not true," you interject with a gasp before throwing your arms around his neck. "You're wonderful!"

You've never embraced Dieter before in all the time you've worked for him. The most you've ever done is gripped his hand in yours as you guided him through a bustling club to get to an interview he was late for or squeezed his hand like in the limo. 

He's warm and he smells really good like expensive cologne. He'd dressed up well for the party tonight and you can't help but nuzzle your nose into his neck. You're both so drunk you lean against each other, not noticing when Dieter's nose glides along your neck as well. 

"I think it's true," he whispers softly.

You feel impossibly sad for your boss because Dieter is so nice! The painting! You wish you'd been kinder to him. Wish you'd thanked him properly. 

But wait, maybe you can? 

"Dieter! I'll make a baby with you!"

You can hear Dieter's heartbeat pickup under your ear pressed against his chest. 

"Really?" Dieter says, swaying. "That's what I was trying to ask before but you were so mad remember? You're always so mad at me!"

"I wasn't!" You reply sulkily, pulling back from him. You don't like being told that. You cross your arms, irritably. 

"Yeah you get this lil' line between your brows when you get mad at me," Dieter says, clumsily pulling off his jacket and dropping it on the ground. "It's so cute and oh- yeah just like that!"

He's pointing at your frowning face. 

"I wasn't mad," you insist, feeling the need to defend yourself. "I was just..."

You trail off as Dieter grabs you by the hips and pulls them to his. He looks down at you through his thick lashes. 

"You're really pretty," he tells you through a whisky-laced hiccup. "I always thought so but I couldn't tell you."

"How come?"

"You're intimidating."

You giggle because you've never seen his face this close up and his mouth is so pouty. His eyelashes are so long you've never noticed. 

"You're pretty too."

He kisses you then, his full mouth warm against yours. You kiss him back, making little whimpers when he licks into your welcome mouth. 

"You kiss good!" You tell him in shock when you eventually pull back. 

He smiles broadly, proud of himself. You can see the dimple in his cheek poke out. You decide that this is as good a time as any to get started. Your hands go to his belt. 

"Let's make the baby now."

"Okay."

///

When you wake up the next morning hung-over and still dressed in Dieter Bravo's bed you don't automatically assume the worst. His arms are around you and he's snoring against your neck and if you weren't feeling so wretched you might have enjoyed how his warm body felt wrapped around yours. 

It's not until you pad to the bathroom and begin to retch in his fancy toilet that you realize your panties are gone. 

Having heard the noise Dieter stumbles into the bathroom, shocked to see his normally composed assistant kneeling over his porcelain toilet. 

He leaves a few moments as you continue emptying your stomachs of its contents. When he returns he's holding two cups of what look like a disgusting green concoction. You take one from him, leaning against the counter. 

"Do you remember anything?"

"Uh, I remember dropping the watch at Cartier," you say before dropping your mouth under the sink to swish some water into your dry mouth before spitting. "I remember we came here to get my keys I think? That's when it all gets blurry."

"Did we see giraffes?" Dieter asks, blinking through puffy eyes. "I feel like I remember giraffes."

You groan at your aching head before you remember your missing underwear. You glance to see Dieter is wearing his ratty green bathrobe cinched at the waist and from what you can see nothing underneath. His bulge is prominent under his bathrobe, you can't help but notice. 

Dieter is staring at you, looking concerned. 

"Last night... Did we?" He makes a circle with his thumb and pointer finger before making thrusting motions into it with his free forefinger. 

"I...I don't remember," you croak, eyes blinking against the light streaming in from his bathroom window. You sip the green drink slowly, surprised that it doesn't taste as disgusting as it looks. 

"Me neither."

"I need a Plan B just in case," you murmur, splashing cold water on your face. "You have a lot of guests stay the night... Any chance you have a box lying around?"

When he doesn't answer right away you glance over your shoulder to see Dieter has a funny look on his face. He's staring at you, blinking. 

"What?"

"What if you are pregnant?" He asks quietly. "Would you consider keeping it?"

You laugh out loud. "Of course not!"

"Not even if I paid you?" Dieter asks, his voice hinting at desperation. "I'll pay you double - no, triple what I was going to pay the model surrogate."

You're about to loudly deny this request when you remember what he was offering that model: $75,000. Triple that is over $200,000. Yeah your life will be hell for nine months but then you'll be able to start a new one debt free. Your mom will be able to retire. You'll be able to go back to school. 

And it's not like you ever wanted kids in the first place so you wouldn't even get attached. All that money for an inconvenience. A blip. 

You can see the hunger in Dieter's eyes, the desperation, the deep need. 

He does feel an aching need for this. Because drugs are awesome, making movies is fun, the money is amazing but with no one to share it with he feels lost. It feels pointless. He's fucked his way through the Hollywood elite: men and women alike. It's boring. 

He tried making a real go of it with Annika but he'd fumbled it poorly and now she hated him and moved on. She was with her old co-worker and she was happy. 

In truth Dieter is terrified that he cannot make another person happy. But a miniature version of himself? He could do that. 

"Three hundred thousand," you say, not thinking he'll accept it.

"Deal."

Fuck why didn't I go higher?

Dieter sees you thinking, his mouth hitching into an excited grin. "So it's yes?"

"IF I agreed to the higher price point you'd be willing to honor the agreement if I got pregnant?" You venture. "The same one you were giving to that model? The one about covering all medical expenses and taking over sole custody and all that?"

"Yes."

"And I'd get the money when?"

"As soon as the baby is born. Just like the contract states."

"And the baby would never know I was its mother?"

"Never."

You pause, blinking rapidly. This all sounds too good to be true. And in all honesty, if Dieter takes this baby and forgets it on a park bench, that's none of your business or your responsibility. As far as you're concerned, this baby is a job. A very well-paying job.

"Okay fine," you say with a shaking breath. "I'll have your baby, Bravo."

///

You can't be pregnant from one night of drunken sex you both can't remember, right? Surely not. People try months if not years to get pregnant. Just look at Becky! Plus, you're not even sure you even had sex! Sure you'd woken up feeling a bit weird, but that could have been because you were waking up next to your boss.

You're thankful your mom works erratic hours at the hospital and didn't notice your late arrival this morning. You spend most of that day pacing around your house, doing laundry but mostly just feeling fuzzy. Not hung-over fuzzy (although that's part of it). It's an overwhelmed fuzzy that makes your head feel like cotton. 

Your day feels impossibly long and short all at once. You want it to hurry up so you can go to bed but at the same time you want it to stretch ad finitum because you dread seeing Dieter tomorrow.  

You'd left in such a rush that morning, not taking him up on his offer of breakfast. You needed to get away from him and that bed and that house. Needed to think about your next steps. 

When you mom arrives home later that night you've made dinner that you both eat in front of the TV. Your mom chooses some bad hallmark romance movie that makes you want to throw a brick through the screen. 

As you sit there bored your mind can't help but begin drifting back to Dieter and that night. You wonder what the sex was like if you actually did it. Was he tender? No, you think he'd be like a jackhammer. Despite his reputation for marathon sessions you think they Dieter would be a selfish lover. 

"Mom what was it like being pregnant with me?"

Your mom raises her head curiously from her palm braced against the couch arm.

"Why do you ask honey?"

"I dunno, I guess after Becky did that whole surrogate thing it made me wonder why people go through it," you lie. "It seems like so much effort for so little pay off."

"You think you were little pay off?" You mom asks with a sleepy smile. "I disagree."

"I think kids are really hard," you smile back. "And I don't really get it."

"Well you've said you're not having kids so I don't think you need to worry about it," your mom says kindly. 

You know as an only child there's a lot of pressure on you to have kids. You know your mom is aching to be a grandparent, especially after your dad's death. 

But she's never pressured you. When you told her you had no intention of having kids even if you found the greatest spouse she had simply hugged you and said she respected your choice. 

But you don't miss how she eagerly listens to stories about Becky's babies or asks to see photos. You don't miss how her eyes linger in the baby section at Wal-Mart. You don't miss the way she smiles at the trick or treat-ers that crowd your doorway on Halloween. 

"I felt wonderful being pregnant," she says suddenly. "Loved every second. Felt like a fertile goddess."

"Really?"

"Yeah." 

A ping sounds on your phone and a headline from a tabloid catches your eyes as you swipe up.

Dieter Bravo signs on for period piece alongside Hollywood darling Mia Rowe.

"Oh good he booked it," you murmur to yourself. He'd been beside himself working on his British accent, desperate to land this role that would take him from goofy villain to serious, romantic leading man.

"What was that honey?" Your mom asks, now slumped over sleepily on the couch.

"Just Dieter stuff," you explain. "I have an alert set to his name."

She grunts a reply before turning back to the television. 

You read the rest of the article delighted that his co-star is Mia Rowe. That's amazing news! You love her! You only hope he can keep it in his pants long enough to keep production from falling apart. You can't help but smile as you send him a text. 

[10:44pm] Congrats! I just heard about the Regency drama. You must be so excited! 🎉

You rest your phone in your lap before second guessing and placing it on the couch arm next to you. You look at your stomach, amazed that you of all people could potentially be carrying life. 

[10:44pm] D: I am thank u. Do u feel pregnant? 

You roll your eyes so hard you're convinced you can see your brain. Is he fucking serious? Does he really not have any clue about how pregnancy works? Is he not aware that Google is free?

[10:45pm] I won't know for weeks.

[10:45pm] D: I thought women knew early?? That's what Magda says. 

Magda is his ancient housekeeper. A woman who has worked for Dieter since he hit it big. She does a terrible job keeping his house tidy but there's no way he'll ever fire her. 

You turn your phone off irritated. You'd been trying to be kind and supportive and he managed to overlook it entirely. 

You watch your mother fall asleep on the couch, her head tilted in her hand. And for a fleeting moment you do hope that you're pregnant. You want to give this woman everything. 

$300,000 would change both of your lives and it seems insane that Dieter won't even miss that amount from his bank account. It'll be a drop in the ocean for him. It makes you feel prickly and resentful by the time his next text message comes through. 

[11:02pm] D: Are ur breasts tender?

[11:02pm] Fuck off. 

///

Living in the fantasy of having all that money had been fun. But a large part of you hadn't really believed that you'd be pregnant. 

So when the two pink lines show up on the pregnancy test that Dieter has bought you three weeks later, you shake your head and take another one.

"Well?" 

Dieters muffled voice calls to you through the bathroom door. He's been sitting outside the door leaning against it for the last ten minutes. 

"Gimme a second!" You bark out over your shoulder. 

You take another test. 

And another one.

Pregnant. 

Yep. You're fucking pregnant.

You are carrying Dieter Bravo's child in you at this very second.

You pull up your t-shirt, standing and looking in the mirrors reflection. Your stomach looks exactly the same. Nothing has changed. 

And yet everything has changed.

Dieter is waiting for you outside his office bathroom pacing back and forth. When he sees your wide eyes his own go owlish in his face. 

You swallow before thrusting the three tests into his hands. He looks at all three, delight blooming over his face.

He falls to his knees, raising his hands in victory over his head before bellowing. 

"We're having a fucking baby!"

///

After a multitude of tests by Dieter's private doctor the next week, the confirmation comes through. 

You're six weeks along. 

Dieter jumps on the couch, shouting excitedly as the news is announced. You simply sit stiffly in your chair as the doctor smiles at you and offers you congratulations.

"It's still early," he warns you both and that causes Dieter to stop jumping on furniture.

There's a lot of paperwork to go over that following week. Dieter has brought in his lawyer and on top of the additional NDA there's also a mountain of certain clauses, exceptions etc. Dieter offers to pay for a lawyer for you but you deny him. 

You take the paperwork to a cheap lawyer in town who gives it back a week later citing that "it's thorough but fair."

No one besides you, Dieter, his manager Mark and his publicist Diane can know. Diane is handling the roll out of the birth nine months from now, laying the groundwork for a successful launch.

She talks about your future child like a product or commodity. It makes both you and Dieter wince. 

"No hard drugs Dieter, I'm serious," Diane warns him over coffee in his living room. She's got a checklist to go through with him and you. 

"I've been off 'em for weeks," he assures her. "Just stickin' to weed."

"No big parties, no orgies," she says checking notes off her phone. "No ridiculous ranting on the red carpet."

"Fine." Dieter nods although you can see that he's going to miss those. He's always enjoyed the attention that goes along with a good party... Or a good orgy... Or rant. 

"And you," Diane says turning to face you seated beside Dieter in his living room. "Obviously you signed an NDA so if people ask, you got pregnant from a one night stand and due to religious reasons you're keeping the pregnancy and giving the kid up for adoption."

Partially accurate.

"Won't it look kinda suspicious for his PA to be pregnant and then him suddenly have a baby?" you ask, suddenly concerned.

"You won't be his PA after this conversation," Diane informs you. "It would be a massive conflict of interest."

You feel your heart lurch. "Wait, I'm fired?"

"Not at all," Diane explains patiently. "You're on paid leave. You'll be given your weekly paychecks as usual."

The thought of nine months stuck at home for your mother to fret over (or worse once she finds out the dad is Dieter) makes you wince. Dieter squirms in his seat next to you, scratching absently at his ankle. A trait he does when he's agitated. 

You've been his PA the longest he's ever maintained one. Usually he sleeps with them or burdens them into quitting. He feels safe with you, you're good at your job and you make him feel stable. Plus you’re carrying his fucking child. He doesn’t want you gone.  

"No," Dieter finally insists, his voice strong. "I need her. I'm going to film in Ireland and I need her with me."

"Dieter-"

"She can wear baggy clothes when she starts to show," he reasons. "And when she gets too big she can do office work."

"Dieter-"

"No negotiating," Dieter insists. "I want her to work for me as long as she wants to." He turns to you at this point, brow raised. "Only if you do."

You smile brightly at him. "I do."

"So do I."

"Great," Diane says rolling her eyes. "I now pronounce you both totally fucked."

///

When you finally hand your completed contract over to Dieter and his lawyers that following week his smile is so wide you think that his face will split. 

Immediately his broad hand goes to rest against your belly, eyes wide with anticipation. 

"Hello little thing, I'm your daddy," he tells your stomach. 

"Okay rule one," you tell him, pushing him off of you with a look of disgust. "No touching me without permission. I am not going to be one of those pregnant women that let strangers touch her belly."

"We're not strangers," Dieter pouts. 

"Besides all your touching right now is my stomach fat," you say flatly. "The baby is the size of a poppy seed." 

Dieter looks amazed. "How do you know that?"

You show him the app you've downloaded to your phone to track everything from fetal development to dietary suggestions. It's called BabiEDucate. 

"You can make an account too," you tell him. "Parents can link up and access the same files."

Dieter is already downloading it before the sentence leaves your mouth. Parents. He's going to be a parent. He's going to be a dad! He's fucking giddy.

"I'll make sure I update it with everything," you promise. "Photos, cravings. It'll keep you involved even when you're working."

"Oh right," Dieter says, deflating. In all his excitement he'd forgotten the film. Several months of filming a period piece over in Ireland. "You're still coming right?"

"I'm still your PA aren't I?" you say bringing out the schedule. Ireland is only a few weeks away and you wonder if you'll be showing. 

The nice thing about being a nobody in the world of celebrity is that no one will think it's strange if you suddenly start to show. You're Dieter's PA, not his friend or co-star. Your pregnancy won't be fodder for tabloid headlines or the rumor mill. 

"When we're in public I'm still your employee," you remind him. "So no talking to my stomach or talking about the pregnancy."

Dieter looks thoughtful before snapping his fingers, inspired. 

"We'll have a code word! How about... Broccoli."

"No."

"Lube?"

"Dieter-"

"Bubble? that's even a fun word to say!"

"Fine," you say with an eye roll. "Bubble it is." 

///

By the end of your second month you feel like absolute shit. Morning sickness has hit you bad. Your mom is usually out of the house before you in the mornings but she catches you hovering over the toilet one morning and you have to pass it off as food poisoning. 

You're thankful that filming will take you over to Ireland for a few months. That's a few months that you can put off telling her that you're carrying your boss's child. 

Dieter has been as annoying as he is helpful in that regard. When you're with him at his place or driving to an event he's his usual self. Well, except all he wants to do is talk about the baby. But at least he does his job and can be redirected. 

When you're not with him though? It's another story. 

[2:06pm] D: you didn't upload to the app today. 🍼🍼🍼

[2:07pm] Too busy puking. 

[2:07pm] D: I saw an article that says ginger tea helps. 

[2:08pm] 👍

When you come out of the bathroom wiping at your washed mouth an hour later you're surprised to hear knocking. 

You open it to find Dieter standing at your door with a cardboard box. 

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyes blown wide. "It's my day off and you're supposed to be at a promo photoshoot for-."

"I know," Dieter interrupts before placing the package into your arms. You glance inside to see heaps of ginger products: tea, honey, biscuits, candies.

"What’s all this?"

"For your morning sickness," he says glancing down at your stomach as if he's expecting you to have magically popped since he saw you yesterday. He's disappointed that you still look the same. 

He gives you a quick smile and wave as he heads back down your driveway towards the waiting cab. 

"Don't forget to update the app!'

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #pedro pascal dieter #The Bubble #pedro pascal smut #Pedro Pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #eventual smut #romance #love #pregnancy

[palioom]

say my name (javier peña x f!reader)

summary: after along day and many setbacks at work, you invite an exhausted javier over to a drink at your place. but you both have more than just a drink on your mind. pairing: javier peña x f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); smoking & drinking, swearing (lots of swearing), rough sex, some choking, biting, some spanking, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, teasing because javier is an asshole

• masterlist •

It was late at the DEA headquarters, the clock almost striking midnight, and yet, some few offices were still lit brightly, the fluorescent lights buzzing above the occupants. In one such office, two people were still buried in heaps upon heaps of paperwork, the air stale from the copious amounts of cigarettes smoked as they worked, the ashtray about to overflow.

They were all Javier’s, the stress of the day having him smoking one after the other, as if his life depended on it. 

At this point, it might as well.

She sat at a table not too far away from his, head in her hands as she looked over photos and transcripts, trying to find something. 

Something that would help Peña and Murphy to catch another narco. Another sicario.

Maybe even Escobar himself. 

She was tired, so damn tired, a good gallon of coffee or two pumping through her veins. Coffee, just because she wasn’t about to get fired for drinking on the job.

Though, with the amount of trips people took to the file rooms or bathrooms, the not-so-secret turns of bodies into a corner before their head flew back, a little silver glint here and there. Yeah, she wouldn’t even stand out trying to cope with this job through alcohol.

All while this wasn’t even her job. 

Not truly, at least. 

She was here to assist the two agents in their hunt, having been delegated to desk duty after she had been injured and declared unfit for field work years back. 

But that didn’t mean she was expected to stay here for more than half a day, killing her eyes and her sleep along with her personal life and, god knows what else, while looking at these damn papers and chugging coffee as if it was the elixir of life.

To some, it probably was.

The words didn’t even make fucking sense anymore and she wondered how long she had been rereading the same paragraph for. 

Hell, how long had she tried to make sense of the first three words of this damn sentence already?

No, this was a personal thing for Peña. Having started off rocky, his cocky and flirtatious attitude colliding with her loud, easily irritable mouth, they had formed some form of friendship over their time together here. 

That had taken some time and effort, though.

He kept her sane with his no-nonsense mouth, so far away from her family back in the States that she wasn’t allowed to talk about anything with.

And she kept him out of trouble as much as she could.

Which sometimes meant she took the blame for some of his blunders. Or those of Murphy. 

They weren’t exactly just a few blunders.

God, she hated them sometimes.

Looking over at Javier, he didn’t seem to fare much different from her; cigarette in one hand as the other one rubbed his temple. He looked fucking exhausted, worse so than her, probably. Which was no wonder, given he had been out there hunting Escobar today, he had been out there and had him slip right through his hands. 

In a way, it was her fault as well, not finding the clues to his whereabouts and plans quickly enough and then puzzling them together wrong, infecting everyone with her falsely constructed theory.

Escobar had escaped by mere minutes.

The talking-to she got from Messina had been fucking awful. Not even Peña had tried to argue.

She had been beating herself up all day over this, trying to do better on a new pile of intel, trying to recall all the mistakes that could have led to her fucking this up so hard and finding a way to avoid them. It probably was part of the reason she had stayed even after Murphy had thrown in the towel, citing Connie as to why. 

That, and because she wanted to help Javier out, somehow. Maybe even look after him. 

God knows he needed someone to do so.

“You good, Peña?” She asked, squinting at him. These horrible lights had her eyes hurting, bringing a small headache with them.

He looked up at her, eyes tired and taking a drag of his cigarette. “I’m fine, hermosa. You?”

She still hated these flirtatious nicknames. 

“Don’t lie to me, Peña.” She responded, rubbing a hand over her face as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs. The rhythmic ticking of the clock had her glance over at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You look fucking awful. Think about calling it a day yet?”

Javier shook his head, brows furrowed as he exhaled the smoke. “There’s gotta be something we missed.” His brown eyes darted back down to the paper in front of him, flying over the small, black letters.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyed glare. That was the one thing she hated about him, still, besides his attitude. 

That tendency to work himself into the grave if need be. 

“Javi.” His name only earned a small hum as he kept looking over the paper, so she repeated it again. She only really used this version of his name when she was serious. “Javi. Look at me.”

He did, eyes finding her face again with raised brows. 

“What?” 

There wasn’t even an attempt to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“You’ll work yourself into the ground if you keep this up.” The sternness in her voice was underlined with a hint of concern. When he tried to protest, she didn’t even acknowledge it. “Wanna give these fuckers out there a reason to celebrate? You need a fucking rest.”

A moment of silence.

“I know you can’t even fucking comprehend the words in front of you anymore.”

He sighed. A hint of defeat. 

Arguing with Javier Peña wasn’t exactly easy. The agent always had a response to everything, needing to have the last word.

Stubbing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, he let his head fall into his hands, rubbing both of his temples with a groan. “We’ll never get him if we stop now, hermosa.” He said, voice rough. It wasn’t hard to overhear just how exhausted he was, it took an idiot not to notice.

“We won’t get him either if we drop dead from exhaustion, Javier.” There was a harshness to what she said, the words coming out rougher than she had intended them to. It was the only thing he ever really heard, though. “I’m asking you to stop for tonight, not to blow all of this off indefinitely.”

Javier didn’t respond, still rubbing his temples. With the way his hands were positioned she couldn’t see his face, so she wasn’t sure if he was thinking about her words or just ignoring her. 

There would be hell if he ignored her now. “I’m worried about you, Javi.” 

Maybe the caring approach would help, she knew he reserved a soft spot for her deep under those way too tight shirts of his. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Let’s call it a day, it’s almost midnight. Join me for a drink at my place, then go home. Or stay. I don’t care.” Another moment of silence.

“You only wanna hitch a ride.” He said, a smirk evident in his tone even if she couldn’t see it.

It made her chuckle, “Yeah, maybe.” 

He sighed deeply, lifting his head and looking at her with the smirk he had been hiding, his eyes twinkling a little as he lifted an eyebrow briefly. “Alright, let’s pack up.”

Thank God it worked, she sighed internally, still smiling as she packed her few belongings and put them in her purse. In quick movements she had gotten up and grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her chair, happy to get out of the stale air of the office.

“You can be quite convincing, sweetheart.” He chuckled, fishing another smoke out of the box in his shirt pocket. If the narcos didn’t kill him, it sure as fuck would be those things. “Gotta admit that. Too bad you’re not doin’ field work anymore.”

She rolled her eyes, walking down the long corridor alongside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. A million times she had told him to lay off the flirty names at work, else someone could get the wrong impression.

It wasn’t difficult not to, with his reputation.

It didn’t help that she was attracted to him, brushing off his attempts over and over again because she didn’t want to be another girl under his belt. Not that she’d ever tell him that, instead just feigning a lack of interest, which he always responded to with a stupid comment of his.

“Peña.” She warned, raising a brow as she looked over at him. “Stop calling me sweetheart, Javier. Someone’s gonna get the wrong impression, I told you.”

Javier chuckled again, putting away his lighter. “Why not, sweetheart?” A smirk stretched the dark mustache wide over his lips, looking down at her in forged innocence, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “What wrong impression could they get, baby?”

A long groan escaped her, grinding her teeth together as her jaw flexed. 

He’d be the death of her. 

“No ‘baby’, either. Fucking Christ, Javier.” Rubbing a hand over her face, she sighed in annoyance, eyeing the exit just a few feet away from her. “Because people will think that we’re fucking. There’s enough gossip as is.”

The thought of calling him something as equally as embarrassing had crossed her mind many times, names ranging from ‘hot stuff’ to ‘goober’ to ‘lover boy’. But something told her he’d just find it amusing as hell.

“Alright, alright. Don’t wanna taint your reputation, princess.” Javier conceded, the smirk on his face growing wider as he saw her face go red, eyes narrowing as she let out another annoyed groan. It was so easy to get under her skin.

“You motherfucker.” She grumbled, giving him a playful shove as his arm wrapped around her shoulders for a moment, pulling her against him with a laugh.

The car ride to her apartment went by mostly in silence, some slow Latin songs playing on the radio, the streets empty. She looked at him as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out the window, eyes fixed on the road. It was a wonder he could still drive, as tired as he looked, bags under his eyes, hair disheveled.

He looked so different when he didn’t think he was being watched, still his stern self but he was more relaxed, looked more open. It was what she often recognized in herself, that need to overplay how he really felt, deep inside.

It didn’t make him less attractive, though. Especially in the flickering lights passing by them. Highlighting the way his forearms flexed as he turned the wheel, the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

His lovely, big nose, thick mustache and those fucking plush lips.

What they’d feel like on hers?

Javier caught her staring, looking over at her with a smirk, thumb of his free hand swiping along his bottom lip. “Like what you see?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “Fuck off.”

“Gotta have a reason for starin’.” He added, dark eyes moving back to the road but finding great joy in her reaction. “Thinking about more than just a drink?”

“Lord help me.” She sighed, a hand running through her hair, seeing him round the corner to pull into the parking lot of her apartment complex. “No, I was thinking about asking you to stay the night.” 

Seeing his smirk widen in the corner of her eye, she realized that she had only given him another thing to jump on, quickly adding, “You’re tired, I know it won’t be just one drink and I can’t let you drive any more in this state, fucking hell.”

Parking his Jeep and turning off the engine, he looked over at her, squeezing her knee briefly. 

Why was he always so goddamn touchy? 

His warm hand made her heart skip a beat.

An amused twinkle laid in his eyes. “If you say so.” 

 “I hate you.”

Her eyes narrowed, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“You don’t.” Unbuckling as well, he opened the door. “C’mon, princess, let’s get inside.”

“Thin. Fucking. Ice.” She growled, exiting the car and walking off.

Inside, she threw her purse and jacket on a kitchen chair, opening the top buttons of her dark blouse while Javier made a beeline straight to the kitchen cabinet he knew housed her alcohol. 

She had been itching to open this damn collar all day, the Colombian heat doing her in, but she was worried about the leering stares of other agents. So, she had sweat and suffered in silence, fanning herself with anything in her reach, glancing at Javier who could just walk around with practically his entire shirt undone, not worrying about a damn thing.

The display had made things a little more bearable, at least.

Fuck, she really wasn’t better than any of the men, was she?

“What d’you want?” He asked, taking her out of her thoughts. As if he didn’t already know the answer. “Wine? Or whiskey?”

“Bold of you to offer me the contents of my cabinet, Peña.” She laughed, leaning on the counter top of the small kitchen island. “I need a whiskey.”

Closing the cabinet doors, he twisted the cap off the Jim Beam, pouring each of them a drink. She watched him, his back turned to her, seeing his muscles move under the tight, tan shirt. 

In a way she was grateful not to do any field work anymore, she probably would have problems concentrating if this was her view all day, his short sleeved shirt half undone, sweat glistening on his neck and chest as he handled his gun.

It made her feel hot in more ways than one.

Damn, she needed that drink badly.

Turning around, he handed one glass to her. Holding his own into the air, he said, “To catching these bastards.”

She raised her own, cheersing him. “To catching these bastards.” She echoed, downing the dark liquid in one gulp, grimacing as the burn traveled down the back of her throat. A warmth settled in her stomach, spreading through her body almost instantly and letting her relax a little. 

If only there wasn’t another familiar heat, settling deep in her abdomen as she watched him take a sip.

“C’mon.” She said, rounding him to grab the bottle of bourbon, walking into the direction of the living room. “Let’s sit on the sofa a little.”

Javier stared after her, taking one more sip as he shook his head before he followed, watching her flop down into the soft cushions with a content sigh, kicking off her shoes. 

“My type of woman.” He chuckled, finishing his glass and sitting down next to her, taking off his shoes as well. There was a small distance between them, not big enough for another person to fit, but to leave each of them a bit of space. “I’m actually quite surprised you can finish a glass of whiskey that quickly, hermosa.”

He set his glass down on the small coffee table in front of them, throwing his pack of smokes down next to it after he fished them out of his shirt pocket. “I wouldn’t be able to say the same about most girls I know.”

“Whoa, totally not sexist at all, Peña.” She laughed, pouring them both the second round of whiskey before leaning back into the cushions with a shake of her head. “It’s all practice, drink enough of this stuff and anything is possible, you should know.”

“Practice.” He scoffed, raising a brow and leaning back as well, his drink untouched. “This isn’t practice. You’re a special one, sweetheart.”

She shrugged her shoulders, looking at him with a smirk as she brought her glass to her lips.

“A woman who can handle her liquor,” Javier mused, looking right at her, “I wonder what else you can handle.”

The whiskey burned as she choked on it, coughing hard as some of it shot up her nose. 

Fucking hell, he couldn’t be serious about that. 

She wiped away the liquid that had spilled down her chin with the back of her hand, still sputtering. “What are you implying?”

There was a playful twinkle in his eyes, watching with amusement as she tried to regain her composure, her cheeks flushing red. It was adorable in a way, different from how she quipped when surrounded by people at the headquaters.

“I mean liquor, guns, maybe...” He laughed, an arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa as he leaned back against the arm rest, legs opening slightly. There was a brief moment where he caught her stare traveling down, right to the middle of his tight jeans. “What else would I be implying?”

Of course he caught her staring.

“Knowing you, it could be anything.” 

God, he was teasing her relentlessly today, unsure if the alcohol made her cheeks flush crimson or the way he looked at her, that stupid smirk of his always on his handsome face. Him spreading his legs like that must’ve been on purpose, too.

One of his stupid flirting attempts. He couldn’t even stop when he was on the brink of collapse.

Leaned back on her sofa like this, alcohol in his system, he seemed to come alive a bit. Features still tired but some energy in his brown eyes now.

He chuckled, grabbing his glass and this time he was the one to knock it back all at once, grimacing only the faintest bit at the burn, a low hiss leaving him. “My mind’s still on you downing that glass. It’s hot, cariño.”

Javier leaned forward now, definitely intruding in her space. Eyes flickering down to her open collar, they lingered for just a little too long, trying to make out what she was wearing underneath.

He’d be damned if she was fucking naked under this.

That thought made him strain against his pants, shifting his hips.

He subconsciously licked his lips as he looked back up into her dark eyes. 

They were pretty, he thought, looking back at him with a mix of uncertainty and something that he would describe as lust. The blush on her cheeks was clearly visible now, a broad hand coming up to brush his knuckles over one of them before moving to put some strands of hair behind her ear. Then, it landed on her thigh, squeezing it.

“You know what else is hot?”

He could feel the shiver running through her, the breath hitching in her throat at the question. At the touch of his hand.

She was a goner.

Despite that, she just looked at him with raised eyebrows, trying to play it cool, hoping he couldn’t see her heart beat in her throat.

Why the fuck did she opt for the whiskey? The way he looked at her made her feel way too hot, that heat in her abdomen spreading through her veins into every part of her body.

She could feel the wetness between her thighs.

“No, what is?”

She hoped she sounded as calm and collected as she wanted to sound.

In reality, she didn’t. Javier picked up on it immediately.

“You, hermosa. You know that, right?”

His eyes were fixed on hers, the hand on her thigh coming up to her face again, brushing along her lower lip now.

He had noticed her stares in recent times, glued to him when she thought he hadn’t noticed. The way she practically ate him up, undressed him, her dark eyes roaming over his exposed chest and arms. How she had looked at his hands, even if he was only twirling a pen in it.

How they flitted away when she felt caught, almost managing to look collected and innocent.

Almost.

Javier had been right to assume her excuses of no interest had been bullshit. She was just playing hard to get, much to his frustration.

He’d had an eye on her ever since they met, and as much as he tried to tell himself that she was just pretty, just a loud mouth he would like to shut up, as he fucked someone else, his mind always came back to her.

Even when they got closer, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of what she’d sound like moaning his name as he pounded into her.

Often he had felt guilty about that.

Now, he was sure she had done the same with him.

And if she wasn’t interested in him? If she was just reacting to him the way she did right now because she was exhausted and the alcohol addled her mind? Then this was just a fun, little flirt.

Something she would groan at him for now, curse at him for later, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“Getting quite red, cariño.” Javier chuckled when she stayed silent, leaning even closer. “Where’s that mouth of yours?”

She really didn’t know how to respond, mind blank save for the thoughts about how inviting his lips seemed.

Looking down at her drink for a moment before looking back up at him, she sighed.

Fuck it.

Turning her face away just briefly enough to knock back the glass of whiskey, she set it down on the table with a loud bang before surging forward and kissing him hard, hands cradling his face.

His hands fell to her hips and he pulled her closer, kissing her back hungrily, drawing a moan out of her when he bit her bottom lip. Moving away from her mouth, he kissed down her jaw to her neck, biting her pulse point.

“Not interested, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Peña.”

Pulling him back to her mouth, she heatedly pressed her lips to his again, feeling his fingers dig harder into her hips as she did so. 

All the gossip that had floated through the headquarters was true. 

Javier Peña definitely knew what he was doing, she thought when his tongue slipped into her mouth.

It sent a jolt of electricity right through her, heat pooling in her abdomen.

She pushed him back firmly to lay down on the sofa, climbing on top of him as he watched with an amused smile, his eyes blown dark. Determination and hunger resided in hers, straddling him and bending down to find his lips again.

Returning to their place on her hips, his hands pulled her down. When her middle ground just lightly into the sizable tent in his tight jeans, she moaned.

He quite enjoyed that noise.

“Is my princess a little angry?” Javier cooed with a cocky smirk between kisses. Using a moment of distraction, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

All to get more of a rise out of her.

“I like this side of you, so dominating. Who could’ve known, hermosa.”

“Don’t fucking ‘princess’ me, you dick.” She growled, breathing hard, lips now moving over his jaw, the slight stubble there scratching her. Finding that sensitive spot just below his ear, she bit into it, smirking when a low groan bubbled in his throat. “Don’t fucking baby me, either.”

Thank fuck for the liquor giving her a confidence boost, as well as bringing back the energy to spar with him.

“Someone’s feisty.” He commented, mouth close to her ear and biting into the lobe. Hot breath fanned over it with every word of his. “Why the change of attitude now?”

“Cause of your cocky ass.” She replied, sitting up to unbutton some more buttons of her shirt before pulling it over her head, revealing a black, lacy bra. 

A smug smile creeped onto her lips as she stared down at him, seeing Javier take in her form, his fingers inching just a little higher, the rough pads digging into the bare, warm skin of her hips. 

For the slightest moment, his smirk fell, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Finding her eyes, though, it sprung back, a lopsided smirk stretching his mustache wide again. 

“You and your fucking mouth, your cocky fucking attitude.” Leaning back down to him, she continued, becoming quieter, but her voice didn’t lose any of its fire. “Your goddamn fucking looks, Peña.”

Mouths back on one another, fighting for dominance, his hands roamed down. Splaying wide over her ass, Javier took a handful and squeezed, really grinding her down against his middle so she could feel him, dragging another moan out of her lungs.

He was fucking hard.

She could feel the self-satisfied smirk against her lips, his mustache tickling her.

Javier truly was gonna be the death of her.

One hand came up to her jaw, gripping it firmly. Not enough to hurt, only to make her feel the strength of it before he pulled her away from him, just far enough to take in her face. “I’m cocky, huh?”

She groaned, struggling against his grip just a little before deciding to give up. Still, she stared right into his eyes, narrowing her own just slightly.

“Yeah, you’re fucking cocky.” It was barely a whisper, but the words still had a bite to them. “You cocky hijo de puta.”

Javier watched her eyes twinkle as she said it, clearly gunning for a reaction from him as a wicked grin stretched her pretty lips wide. 

If she thought he’d give it to her this easily, she was sorely mistaken.

“I am, but you love it, cariño.” Pulling her closer to him, his mouth was over her ear again, speaking low. “Admit it.”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine and he watched as her eyes transformed, a fire lighting inside them.

She did like it, feeling how wet she got the more he talked. But she would never admit it. 

It would please him too much.

“Jódete.” 

A breathy chuckle escaped him.

“Say that again for me.” Javier whispered. “I like the sound of it when you say it like that. It's fucking hot.”

There was no denying that it turned him on, the way she swore and challenged him. His hips shifted slightly underneath her, dick twitching in his jeans.

The tight denim became uncomfortable at this point.

“Jódete.” Every syllable was punctuated firmly, grin still on her face. “You’re such a cocky motherfucker, Peña.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You sure know how to use that mouth of yours.”

His free hand roamed over her back, toying with the clasps of her bra. It was obvious that he didn’t plan on opening it just yet, just trying to rile her up a little more. 

Even though he really wanted to see those pretty tits without their confinements.

“I really like that about you, hermosa.”

“You haven’t even seen me use it yet.” She whispered against his lips, fighting against his hand to kiss him hard.

Moving her hands to the small buttons of his shirt, a groan of frustration slipped out of her mouth and into his as she fumbled with them. The more agitated she got, the harder it seemed to grab a hold of them.

Javier enjoyed feeling her struggle, only aiding her when she nearly ripped the buttons off the garment, placing his broad hands over hers. “Need help?”

She wanted to wipe the smugness off his face. That stupid, flashy grin of his.

“Fuck you.” She whispered, lips trailing over his jaw to his neck, leaving marks with her teeth. The small hum rising in his throat was more felt than heard by her, traveling further down to the newly exposed skin, nipping at it. “Fucking bastard.”

Her hands slid out underneath his, exploring his tan chest, feeling the muscles as she moved them down his sides. 

Fuck, the glimpse of chest he showed at work really only was an appetizer. 

The way his muscles danced under her fingertips as she moved them over his ribs, then down to his stomach excited her, only feeling hotter when she reached the trail of hair vanishing under the band of his jeans.

Javier wasn’t jacked, she already knew that, loving when his stomach popped out over his pants just a little. But feeling the relative softness of it just made her love it more.

“Strange way of saying thank you.” Watching her for a moment, he closed his eyes and craned his neck with a grunt as she sucked a bruise into his chest, placing a firm bite just a few inches away after. 

A slap, followed by a sharp gasp echoed in the room, his hands colliding with her ass, a retaliation for the bite.

That definitely turned her on, more heat pooling in her stomach. And he probably felt the involuntarily roll of her hips as well.

She wouldn’t let him know, though.

The daggers she shot at him through her eyes did nothing to diminish the gleeful expression on his face as she sat up straight. That really lit a fire in her, her hands reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, feeling too confined by the black lace.

“You wanna stay here?” She breathed, sliding the bra off of her shoulders and throwing it across the room. The corners of her mouth curled up as she watched his eyes widen just marginally, tongue flicking out again and his jaw setting. “Or you wanna move it to my bed?”

A beat of silence.

Just briefly, for a tiny, tiny moment, she thought she had shut him up for good. She should have known better than to expect a pair of breasts to silence Javier Peña.

“Your call, princess.” There was that teasing asshole again, one hand wandering up and groping at one breast, chuckling at the weak roll of her hips. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over the hardened peak and he wanted to frame the sight of her as she threw her head back, neck exposed and hair falling over her shoulders. “I’m down for whatever, so lead the way. Take command, show me what you’re all about.”

He also wanted to frame the sight of her as her head rolled forward again, piercing right through him with the determination and heat in her eyes.

That fucking nickname really spurred her on. 

This was a challenge now.

“Fuck. You.” She breathed heavily, moving so she could reach his belt. Opening the metal buckle, she worked on the button of his jeans next. “What I’m all about? I’ll show you what I’m all about, Peña.”

Wrenching the fabric open, she let her hand glide in, wrapping her fingers around his cock, finding him hard and leaking as his hips jerked up into her touch. “You’ll say my name like a fucking prayer when I’m done with you, asshole.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw set. The feeling of her fingers was incredible, and he had to restrain himself from fucking into her fist when she moved her hand. If she wanted a challenge, she would get one.

“Yeah? You gonna make me say your name?” Javier breathed, hands moving to unbutton her pants. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around, sweetheart.”

He pulled on the denim, movements rough. He was aided by her as she took her hands away from his cock and shifted so he could yank them down her legs before throwing them to the side, followed by her black panties. 

When she went to remove his jeans, however, one of his hands twisted into her hair, yanking her down and against his lips, tearing a surprised moan from her which he used to slip his tongue into her mouth.

In any other scenario, she would have loved to simply give in to him, letting him manhandle her and fuck her into the couch. But right now, she was much too proud, much too determined to shut his cocky mouth up than to give him control.

She’d show him who was the boss here.

His free hand slid between them, a finger gliding through the lips of her cunt, finding her soaked. Her hips stuttered, moaning again when he ghosted over her swollen clit.

“Yeah, you’ll show me?” He mocked, applying just the faintest bit of pressure and watching as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. What a fucking sight. “With a pussy this wet for me already?”

There wasn’t a chance in the world she would get him to submit, hearing her moan after barely being touched. Maybe he should let her try, it would be fun to see her exhaust herself at the attempt.

He bet she would crumble not long from now, even if he enjoyed this back and forth massively.

“Fucking show me, then.” Letting go of her with a push, he leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at her expectantly. “Go on, hermosa.”

She sat up, breathing hard. Seeing him like this, laid back and relaxed as if this didn’t even faze him at all - as if he was on fucking holiday at some beach and enjoying the sun - it only made her angry, determined to get him to break.

“You smug motherfucker.” She whispered.

Moving off of him, she pulled down his jeans hastily, underwear coming off with it, suppressing a groan when she straddled him again, feeling his cock slide through her folds. She braced herself on his chest, breasts pushed forward and rolling her hips so she slid over him, just teasing him with a smile. 

It seemed to do more for her than it did for him, though. He didn’t even take his eyes off her face, even though she knew he really wanted to watch her pussy get his cock soaked.

Javier barely fucking reacted at all.

His stubbornness was admirable, she had to give him that.

As much as she wanted to continue to tease him, trying to draw him out somehow, she was also reminded of her own need for him, clenching around nothing when the head of his cock nudged against her clit. 

Biting her lip, she reached down, positioning herself so he was lined up with her and slowly sank down on him, watching his reaction.

A tiny crack showed in his self control, his teeth grinding together as he felt how tight she was around him, brown eyes flicking down to where she was sinking down on him. 

The sight of him spearing her open was mesmerizing.

“Mierda.” It was so quiet she almost overheard it, her mind dizzy from how fucking good he stretched her open, clenching around him when he was buried all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re huge.” It slipped out of her in a breathless whisper, mentally scolding herself for saying it out loud and hoping he hadn’t heard. 

No need to stroke his ego more.

But he had heard, his eyes moving back up to hers, mustache stretched wide over his lips once more.

Fuck.

“I am, huh, baby?” Javier grinned, arms still behind his head, biceps tensing. “A nice, huge cock to stretch that tight pussy of yours open. You like that, hm?”

Of course she fucking liked it. Growling in frustration as she grit her teeth, she threw her head back, looking at the ceiling. His words only made her cunt pulse around him, hating that he would feel it, too.

Slowly, she lifted herself up, biting her lip to stifle a moan when she had almost moved off of him before sinking all the way back down. 

She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her, too.

“C’mon, baby, where’s that mouth of yours?” He nodded at her, brows furrowed in mock concern. Feeling her pulse around him amused him, but he really needed to hear her fight back.

So, he put himself into the game, one hand gripping her hair again to bend her down to him, lips almost touching while the other grabbed her hip so hard it would leave bruises.

Oh, she liked that, too.

“Tell me you like it, baby.”

“Fuck you.”

His grip tightened, hips thrusting up into her. It took her by surprise, jolting forward with a loud moan, and Javier pushed her hips down onto him again, giving her no way to escape.

“That really all you can come up with?” He set a harsh pace, meeting every thrust of hers, pushing himself all the way in.

“Shut your fucking mouth, cabrón.” She could feel him twitch inside her, smiling breathlessly when she realized that he seemed to enjoy the bit of Spanish she had picked up from working here. “Don’t wanna hear your fucking voice unless you start chanting my name.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that left him. “Your pussy’s telling me somethin’ different.”

His hand left her hair, moving to her hips as well as he accentuated his words with a harsh snap of his hips, pressing her down into his lap when their lips met again and he swallowed her sounds.

He controlled the roll of her hips with his hands, feeling her struggling against his grip. Right now, he just wanted to break down her resolve, make her call out for him.

A sharp slap on her ass almost got him what he wanted.

“Ja-” She cut herself off before his name fully slipped out, head dropping to the crook of his neck and stifling the moan bubbling in her throat as she sank her teeth into the skin there which only earned her another slap.

Shit, she was close. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she had bit off more than she could chew. 

He seemed absolutely solid, so in control of himself while she struggled, hard.

“C’mon, princess,” he grunted, punctuating the nickname with a snap of his hips, “that’s it, pretty girl, you almost had it. Just say it.”

The mocking strengthened her determination as much as it made that coil inside her tighten, close to the edge. 

Her lips moved along his neck, teeth nipping at his skin in an attempt to drag him closer to the edge as well, her hips grinding down on him harder.

It was working, but he wouldn’t show that so easily.

When one of his hands moved in between them, finding her sensitive clit, aching for friction, a whine slipped past her lips, pussy squeezing him so tightly that a groan rumbled in his chest.

“You’re fucking unfair.” She groaned against his neck, a hand grabbing at his forearm to try and pull him away. It was incredibly hot to her how his muscles and tendons moved below the skin and against her fingers.

“How am I being unfair, baby?” He asked, breath heavy as he bit into her earlobe. The way she gripped his cock was making him break slowly but surely, but he’d never let her win this.

“You’re playing dirty, you bastard.”

Javier chuckled, moving his hand away from her clit to wrap the arm around her middle instead, pinning her against him. Angling his hips, he drove into her harder, the slight change in position making him reach deeper, taking note of how she suppressed a noise.

“Say my name, sweetheart, c’mon.”

She shook her head, a hand coming up to grip his hair. Moving his head to allow herself more access, she sucked more purple marks into his skin.

“Never. Not in a million years.”

She could feel him get closer too, now; his breath labored, grunts and moans catching in his throat. Yet his hips still drove up into her at the same brutal pace.

“You know what I like about you?” He grit out, arm tightening around her. “Your pride’s bigger than mine.”

The hand on her hip gave her ass another smack.

“But I’ll fucking break yours.”

Fucking hell. His words shot straight to her pussy, clenching around him.

“You won’t.” She groaned, feeling emboldened to beat him. “I’ll make you sing my name and if it’s the last thing I do.”

His mouth found her neck, mirroring what she had been doing to him, feeling her pulse quicken as her hips stuttered. He was at the brink of an orgasm himself, surprised by how long she managed to resist him, fighting hard for control. 

It only turned him on more, that fierceness of hers, the will to make him break and give in.

Because if she wasn’t the one to give in first and doing so, soon, he was the one to lose this fight, and he really couldn’t let that happen. 

His fucking ego wouldn’t allow him to.

So he let go of her middle, and as expected, she sat up just a little, bracing herself on the armrest behind him as she changed the angle, bouncing on his cock. Her tits jumped with every movement, right into his face as her back arched and he couldn’t resist the urge to take one hardened nipple into his mouth, groping the other with his free hand. 

She ground into him harder, losing her rhythm as his teeth grazed over the bud, tongue soothing the bite and he grunted, feeling her squeeze him.

“Just say it, you asshole.” She whined desperately, teetering right at the edge but willing herself not to fall over it. It was so damn difficult, his cock hitting all the right spots, his mouth on her breast only bringing her closer.

An idea came to her, one hand wrapping around the base of his throat, pushing him away from her chest and back into the armrest. Sweat dripped down his temples, his jaw set again as she looked down on him with lidded eyes.

He looked so fucking good like this, lust clearly on his features now and that fucking cocky smile gone. Eyes slightly widened at her grip around his throat, only applying light pressure on the sides.

He liked this.

“I wanna cum on your fucking cock, Peña.”

She was right there with him. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. “Let me feel that pretty pussy, hermosa.”

His hand left her breast to find her clit again, rubbing tight circles into it with his thumb. 

That was all she needed to fall over the edge, screaming his name as she did.

“Yes, Javier!” Her hips stuttered, body shaking as she contracted around him, her orgasm hitting her so hard she saw stars dance behind her eyes when she screwed them shut. “Javi, fuck! Yes!”

Her arm gave out, collapsing against his chest and burying her face in the crook of his neck as the waves kept washing through her.

It was all he needed, too. 

Grunting her name, his hips pressed up into her as her pussy gripped him tight, pulling his cock in deep before he stilled, his thumb working her through her waves and his.

The sound she wrangled from him made it sound like he was in severe pain, biting into her shoulder so hard it would definitely leave a distinct mark. 

She cried out again, his bite hurting her and his thumb on her clit driving her into overstimulation, grabbing at his forearm. He understood, letting go when she left crescent marks in his skin and wrapped his arm around her middle to pull her close.

Silence filled the room, save for their labored breathing, trying to come down from the intense high. His hand traced mindless circles into her skin.

After a moment, he tapped her hip and she shifted, feeling him pull out with a low grunt. She could feel his cum leak out of her, the feeling so vulgar but intoxicating, already missing the feeling of him inside her. 

Moving so she was laying half on top of him, no longer straddling him as their legs entangled, she rested her head on his chest and watched him reaching out for the pack of smokes on the table, fishing one out and lighting it.

He took a long drag, expelling the white mist with a long sigh.

“I won.” He chuckled.

She groaned. For a moment she had completely forgotten about the challenge, enjoying the silence between them.

He really couldn’t stop this cocky attitude for even just a moment.

But did she really care, though? The orgasm had been so great, she almost didn’t give a fuck that she lost to him.

Almost.

“Nice try, though, hermosa.” Javier added and she couldn’t help but smile at the comment.

“Know what, Javi?” She said, pushing herself up so she could look him in the face. A hand came up to brush the damp hair off his forehead, carding her fingers through his dark locks. The fire in her eyes had diminished, replaced with tenderness. 

They still held that sparkle, though.

“You fucked me so well I honestly don’t give a fuck you won.”

It was meant to dampen his victory just a little, even if it stroked his ego.

“But you should stay the night more often.” She added with a grin.

Her hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

“Good, cause I’m not sure I can just let this little pussy of yours go.”

He pulled her down into a kiss by her chin, more tender now.

Maybe Javier Peña being a cocky asshole wasn’t that horrible.

Certainly not when he fucked her the way he did.

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #narcos #javier peña imagine #javier peña smut #pedro pascal characters #fic #my writing #totally not terrified to share this #not at all nooo #pls be nice lmao

[lexa-griffins]

Here's an ass prompt if you need some inspiration for sinday

Lexa is a nude model for gp Clarke's art class. Clarke is seated directly behind Lexa so she has a perfect view of her tight ass. Unsurprisingly she gets a boner which she tries to hide during the class from Lexa and everyone else. Lexa notices Clarke's predicament and does everything she can to make Clarke's boner worse like stretching so her ass pops out more. At the end, Clarke and Lexa are the only ones left in the class for the night so Lexa gets the courage to fuck Clarke for being such a good student

Its more of a workshop than a class, erotic poses workshop, but Clarke has always loved those; smaller classes, more risque subjects and poses as well as the development of her skills.

Lexa has been doing these type of modeling jobs for a while now. Its not a lot of money but these type where she needs to be in more out there poses and bare herself much more usually manage to pay decently and honestly, she enjoys seeing herself by an artist eye, its flattering.

This is routine for the both of them, Clarke hasnt had a boner during live drawing since freshman year, Lexa has long since started zoning out during the around 4 hours those workshops took. It starts out exactly like that, Lexa daydreaming about the taco place next to her apartment as she bent over the bench she was assigned when her hip gets a small cramp and she's forced to discretely try and move it to get some blood circulating again. Clarke is so focused on getting the curve of Lexa's ass right that the slight movement is immediately noticeable and ince she truly looks at Lexa's ass she can't stop staring. Of course, she can't get the shape right, how does one even translate the perfect curve of her ass and her hips on paper? Clarke could practice for the rest of her life and never truly get it right.

She feels the pressure in her pants before she can help it. A sharp breath leaves her as she comes to the mortifying conclusion she has a boner, out and proud, and the only thing hiding it is the paper pad that sits on her lap which is really of no help at all.

Lexa is still zooning out, her eyes dragging across the wall of mirrors the space offers (community centers and what not) when she notices someone looking rather distressed right behind her. She's come across those type of artists before, the type who ask her to stay a big longer because they just couldn't get the shape of her arm or the size of her chest right. They were the quiet type, always mumbling to themselves and anxiously erasing the paper until it ripped. This girl, however, does not look like the type. Her pencil has stopped moving, and she looks frozen in place. Lexa feels the need to say something, and she's about to when the girl shifts and the bulge becomes obvious... to Lexa only. Blue eyes seem somewhat fixated on Lexa's ass and it makes Lexa bite her lip to hide a smirk forming.

Cute.

To test the theory that she really is the cause of this girl's blood rush, she wiggles her ass again, discreet still, and bends over more just an inch, something her bad thanks her for. Staring in the mirror, Lexa watches as the blonde artist grows red in the face and immediately stares at her sketchbook like it might just swallow her and save her from her embarrassment.

In her seat, Clarke shifts from left to right, trying to find a position that might just make her boner go away, earning her a couple side looks from the other members of the class, ones she apologizes to with a little head bow. She tries to adjust herself discreetly, but all that does is make her harder when the reason for her ill state is right in front of her, her ass further up in the air and somehow even more flawless and round looking now.

Clarke survives to the end of the workshop with a sketch pad full of sketches that somehow resemble a person enough that no one would be able to tell most of the blood in her body was not being directed to her brain. The boner is still alive and well unfortunately, and Clarke waits for everyone to leave before she can waddle awkwardly to her car and go home to have one of the most awkward jerking off sessions of her life. She's pretending to go over the sketches as she waots for the lingering attendees to leave, spending far too much time analyzing the ones where the focus was so clearly on the model's ass but that Clarke still felt were yet to fully capture it.

She feels her breath on her ear before she notices her presence, "You flatter me with those."

Clarke turns in surprise, finding herself face to face, instead of face to ass, with the woman she drew on the paper, "Yeah hm... well, you are a very good model."

Lexa gives her a closed smile and a head nod, "And you are a rather good student. Never had anyone managed to draw my ass like you did."

She's wearing an opened robe, not so much to hide her modesty but to protect her from the cooling room now that the sun has gone down. Clarke stares directly at her hardened nipples peaking through the thin fabric and she has to stop herself from reaching out to them and brush her finger over them.

"Well. You have a really nice ass."

The model chuckles, low and throaty, a sound that makes Clarke smirk and a new wave of blood to direct itself to her dick.

Lexa gestures to it with her chin, "I noticed."

"I just wish I had more time to get it right." Clarke admits, having the girl now brushing her naked leg on Clarke's thigh, still seated.

"Do you now?" The girl - Alexa? She was introduced at the start of the class, but Clarke rarely pays attention to the models' names, barely looks at their face, - is hovering her now, the fabric moved to the side, her full breast treatning to make a second apperance that night.

"I like to think you can't rush perfection or an illustration of it, at least." Clarke smirks as she responds, but the truth is, she is uncomfortable with the way her boner is begging to be freed from the jean material of her pants, and this girl needs to either quit the flirting and ride her or let her leave.

As if reading her thoughts, the model lets the robe fall from her shoulder and onto the floor, grabbing the sketchbook that hides Clarke's boner and placing it on the floor with pretend carelessness. She knows how artists are about the sketches, and she wouldn't dare ruin it. Even if she plans on posing for talented hands many, many more times.

"Perhaps you need a more hand on approach?" Lexa proposes as she craddles the woman's lap, paying attention not to press herself right on her clear boner, but still touching it with her naked core.

Clarke is not thinking anymore. But the proposal is permition enough for her hand to grab at Lexa's ass, handfuls of it without any shame, pressing Lexa's folds against the tent in her jeans, creating a damp spot in it with her wetness, a low moan leaving pretty lips as Clarke massages and spreads her ass as if to commit the shape and feeling of it to memory, her tongue and teeth scrapping at the elegant neck of the model.

Lexa's hands grab at what they can, the fabric of the black button down unable to sustain the force with which Lexa clenches the fabric, forcing the fiest few button open. At the sight of Clarke's chest, Lexa truly cannot wait any longer, and with a few clumsy tries, she manages to free Clarke's boner from its confines.

Lexa is quick to wrap a hand around it, her hand just barely closing across the thickness of it, "Fuck, and you wanna talk about perfection?!"

"God, fuck, please i need be inside of you." The girl moans in Lexa's hears, hands still toying with her ass, a sneaky finger already spreading Lexa's wetness all over her folds.

The models' free hand takes a hold of Clarke's jaw, the kiss passionate, all tongue and crashing lips, "Oh please, yes."

Clarke can think of a time someone rode her like this. The model is exceptional with her hips, the way she rolls them as her walls squeeze around Clarke's cock, the slow movements back and forth before she starts to fuck herself against Clarke.

She's perfect in every sense, and Clarke isn't sure she'll ever be able to capture that perfection on paper, but she has every intention of trying.

The folds of her hips and her stomach as she moves on top of Clarke chasing her own pleasure.

The ripples of her ass when Clarke slaps it. The hypnotizing way it wiggles when she mives up and down on her dick.

The movement of her chest right in front of Clarke's face, pink nipples begging for her mouth.

The beautiful face she makes when Clarke's hand moves between them to find her clit, the perfect O of plump lips as her entire body shakes into an orgasm, how her eyes roll out of sight when Clarke cums deep inside of her.

The bite Clarke leaves on her shoulder as she tries not to moan so loud it would echo throughout the entire building.

The adorable drowsy smile Lexa - her name's Lexa, she manages to find out - sends her way when she offers her a ride and the two finger wave towards her when she drops her off.

How she lays in Clarke's bed, naked, a book in front of her as she sticks her ass out, still red from their fucking session, shinning from the sweat, reminding Clarke she better get it perfect this time.

Clarke isn't sure if she can emulate perfection. But she can try.

#letter opened #wanheda's dagger #my writing #THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG 😭😭 #but here ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️ #:D #i think its cute 🥰 #clexa

[a-luran]

Ok so senditothemoonn put Ireland in Mac's place and England in Dee's in that Always Sunny meme redraw, so naturally my first thought was the episode 'The Gang Finds A Dumpster Baby' (Can't remember if Wales or N.Ireland is in Frank's spot, but I can't really imagine Wales telling them to 'put it back' soooo...)

ahahaha I haven't watched that season in ages!

@senditothemoonn did an absolutely stellar job with their art (and just in case someone's missed it you can find it here. Tequila in sunscreen bottles doon at Troon Beach at the Jersey Shore for all. It always gives me a good laugh.)

as for elaborating on my own Always Sunny AU, I can't stay it sticks to canon all that much!

Arthur is in practice the owner, having inherited the pub from his former boss after he died childless. In Arthur's opinion it has been well-earned after years of backbreaking labour trying to keep the business afloat while the old man fucked off with a new sweetheart every other weekend. Was Arthur serving drinks before he was legally sound to do so? perhaps. And are some most of the supply dealings and receipts stamped with a forged signature? maybe so. The point is that the pub is in the black for the first time in it's entire 100-year-existance and Arthur is not above murder to keep it that way.

Daffyd is his first official hire and just brutally slow at his job. It's naw like he'd ever asked for a cocktail but he takes pint pouring with a seriousness it was never intended to have. He also has the vexing (to Arthur) need to make conversation with everyone and their mother and no, he will not interrupt any patron's riveting account on today's weather just because you're wanting to order. He's also been known to 'lose count' of pints and hand out a half on account of a not-even-particularly-well-crafted sob story. It drives Arthur up a wall.

Alasdair has been a regular for so long Arthur can't quite remember when he walked in for his first drink. There's even a good chance he might have been coming in long before Arthur even started pouring them. He was some kind of boxer,— or sailor, or soldier, or something, fat chance of anyone finding out— allegedly, and now serves as their handy man and bouncer. He seems to know anyone and everything and is also tragically farsighted (or perhaps just suffering from the effects of one too may concussions, and more than a little daltonic). He refuses to get glasses or hear anything about it. In any case he is built like a brick shithouse and does his job well so Arthur leaves him to it. (Favouritism? in this pub?? it's more likely than you think.)

Sean and Ross are in theory the co-owners. As highlighted, theory is a key word. They are the root of most of the pub's issues but more often than not also the solution, and the regulars love them. Cannae impress that onto you enough, they are the customer's darlings, their good time boys. They are the lads (said with an affectionate chuckle).

Every time Ross comes into the back office with a sheepish smile and lacking his worst half Arthur knows that something's gone amuck and it takes his misanthropic self every fibre of his being not to cry.

And so it goes! Welcome to O'Connor's, have a seat and have a pint and gnore the shouting coming from the back office. Don't mind the sheep of the towering man carrying it out on his shoulders.

(The running gag much like Charlie and Frank in the og Always Sunny are the hints that they are all related, only it's in increasingly obscure ways. They're cousins, then second cousins, then third cousins once removed. Then Sean's mammy was Arthur's cousin's godmother, who in in turn was Alasdair classmate two years down. And so on and so on, the way people find connections with each other when yous all come from small towns that grew exponentially over a couple of decades.)

#hws uk bros #it's always sunny AU #hws england #hws wales #hws ireland #hws scotland #hws northern ireland #Alasdair Campbell #Arthur Kirkland #Daffyd Owens #Sean O'Cléirigh #Ross O'Cleary #found dysfunctional family my beloved #Arthur and Alasdair do the Devil’s tango in the supply closet #Ross is scarred forever #the supply closet is disgusting and a disgrace and an affront to civility #just like them

[shikitsuka]

Fuck it, life seems to want to fight me for my will to believe in a bright future. I think so far it’s winning.  I just watched a video that cleverly compares what’s supposedly starting to happen with AI generators to what was happening when lace machines were starting to be a thing (so, a lot of stages of grief stuff, and at the end, people losing their jobs because one person can operate a lace machine making god knows how much more lace than one lace making professional) I’m just gonna repost my comment here, I don’t really know why, maybe someone will sulk along with me at this world. Small self sufficient communities when, I feel we need that more and more...  I am about to make a very vague and very known argument. All this "taking jobs by inventing a faster, albeit not as precise" way of doing stuff that COULD be useful in some, but not all, instances, would not be so devastating if we didn't live in a capitalistic world.  Take a minute to think about this. Lace making machines, cloth making machines, all the machines- are helping us make stuff faster with less work. If you DON'T WANT TO, you don't have to sit all day weaving cloth just to not freeze in winter. A machine will do it for you and you can do what you desire in that time. Machines give us time to do what we want- in theory. But when a world is only gonna pay you little coins you can exchange for goods if you can offer them something they can't get for free or for cheaper- it instead becomes a tragedy.  You had a job, because the work could only be done by people like you. You therefore got food and other services in exchange for your tokens. Now you have no job and are fearing what will come. How will you stay alive? The companies found a way to fire you, they can now make lace themselves cheaper and faster!  In a perfect, most likely not attainable world, machines would be cherished. You can still make gorgeous hand made unique lace if you want to, or you can take up something more interesting if you only did it because it had to be done. Same with art. If you find joy in learning it, make art. If you only want to play around with generated pictures, go to AI. AI could make the advertimesement art I bet no artist would honestly choose to work on if they could work on their own ideas in that time. In a perfect world, where goods are distributed among people. Not among those who manage to be useful to someone higher. All the machines in theory should make it that we no longer fear if we will manage to do everything on time. Machines harvest grain faster, you don't have to fear if it will rain and ruin your winter food before you can harvest it all. Cloth is woven by machines. You no longer have to spend long, long hours racing to make it to make yourself and others new clothes.  We are ruining our own future with this system. We are creating helpful machines and instead of using them to provide for everyone, we use them as a threat to make people work more for you because otherwise they won't have what to eat.  Imagine a group of people that all colloborate to make a living. They would celebrate every machine they invent. It promises survival, less stress, more free time. The dream.

#random ramblings #idk. idk. #anti capitalism #I guess???

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

@blupjeansweek day 6: family

Lup slips out the door to the small balcony, letting the cacophonous laughter stay inside for a while. She lowers herself to the ground and lets the cool breeze flow through her hair. Having everyone over to her tiny apartment sounded good in theory but in practice, it’s a bit much. She loves having them all here, of course; it’s been so long since they’ve all been together. Distance and everyone being functional adults with jobs makes it hard.

Video calls and texts and letters are great substitutes but nothing quite beats hugging Taako until he starts swatting her forehead or playing rummy with Davenport’s deck of cards that’s older than Lup is. But eventually the air in the apartment got a little too hot and still for Lup’s liking. She gazes up at the moon and takes some deep breaths.

She doesn’t turn as the door behind her creaks open and closed again.

“Babe? You okay?” Barry asks as he settles down next to her on the balcony. She leans against him and nods.

“Yeah, it’s just taking a little out of me. I love family time but all the questions can get overwhelming. It feels like my life’s being evaluated using a very cryptic rubric, you know?”

He shifts and wraps his arm around her, bringing her in closer. “I get it. Have you told anyone yet?”

She shakes her head before all but burying her face in his chest. “Didn’t wanna do it without you. And I’m nervous.”

He laughs quietly and kisses the top of her head. “Aw babe, how come?”

“I dunno, just feels like a big thing. And it is a big thing. But they’re all here asking about graduation and jobs and shit and that’s great but I just wanna talk about us.”

“Then let’s go do it. I’m right here with you, okay?”

Lup takes his hand and kisses his knuckles. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

Barry carefully detangles himself from Lup and rises, offering his hand to her. She squeezes his hand tight before he leads them both back into the cramped apartment.

“—And then I was asked to leave the Home Depot but I wasn’t given a ban like at Walmart, so I consider that a win!” Merle says from his perch on the arm of the couch.

“You know, I’m actually glad I missed whatever the hell that was,” Lup remarks as she and Barry rejoin the group. “And before you can give me any context, I do just wanna say how happy I am to have you all here. It’s always way too long in between visits. I hate being adults.”

“It’s honestly rude that jobs have to come before getting to see the handful of clowns I actually like hanging around,” Taako affirms as he hoists himself onto the kitchen counter.

“It is. But I do hope you’re all going to be free next June. The first, specifically.”

“What’s going on then?” Magnus asks, setting his stack of cards down; from what Lup can tell, he was already losing pretty badly to both Davenport and Lucretia.

She tightens her grip on Barry’s hand and grins wide. “Barry and I are getting married!”

“No fucking way!” Taako launches himself off the counter to sweep Lup up into a hug. Almost immediately, everyone else falls in until they’re all a gross group hug. “Didn’t think Barold here would ever pop the question.”

“Well, he did! So you all better put in time off requests and shit soon because I’m not letting any of you miss this,” Lup says seriously.

“We wouldn’t dream of missing it, don’t worry,” Davenport smiles at the pair before giving Barry a firm handshake.

“So, I’ll catch you both up on the Walmart story before I get to the Home Depot story,” Merle says as he launches back into his tales of garden section hijinks.

Lup cringes but wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

#blupjeans #blupjeansweek2022 #reese writes #not in love with this one but it's cute ! #taz #taz balance

[tinkywinkyschauffeur2]

Bridie-centric lore dump

So Bridie is from a farm. She’s basically the Trallum version of Texan, and as a kid attended a fairly liberal Ustist church (religion derived from Déstism. doesn’t matter what all the words mean, just pretend she’s like a pagan and Déstism is catholicism. that’s how different the two are).

She grew up speaking in a rural dialect of Darmattan which is very difficult for Royal Darmarttan speakers to understand. But then when she moved to Trallum she adopted Trallum Standard Darmarttan Dialect (TSDD) out of convenience.

She’s the youngest of five kids. Drove a tractor into a ditch at the age of eight (1986). Her family mostly farmed wheat. The Trallum Rally Championships were held on roads very close to her farm so she’d often go and see them (her parents had a touch of the farm flavour of ‘irresponsible’, you know, anything is legal on a farm, you’re also immune to injury as long as the job gets done).

She did kind of an au pair thing where she stayed with another family while she went to high school in Trallum. She came out when she was seventeen (1995) and no one was really surprised but there were two friends that weren’t too on board with the whole thing. But in general the prefecture she lived in and the au pair family was pretty accommodating. She got a job driving a forklift at a garden centre to try and pay for her HRT (yes, she is forklift certified).

she was also in a band around this time called The End of the World and a Pancake Breakfast, which was alright for a while but her special interest is music and can play pretty much any instrument, knows a heap about music theory, etc, and the other members of the band kind of felt ‘threatened’ by her bc she could technically replace any of them bc she could do all their parts. And it caused problems bc she was too over enthusiastic and it came across as bossy/pushy, even though that really wasn’t her intention at all.

The band fell apart.

And so when she joined Spare Change she kind of just kept quiet and never mentioned that she could do anything other than play the drums.

In early days she had a thing for Katherine, kind of a star struck thing bc Katherine did used to race in the rally championships, and also she was hanging around with the band a lot initially for reasons that i won’t go into here. But also like this is Katherine we’re talking about out, completely understandable for Bridie to be a bit smitten.

Katherine arranged for herself, Tarlin, and Bridie to go out to a race course (not rally) and zoom around for a day.

Then in early 2008(?) they were on tour, Ishani got hit by a light, had to go to hospital and suddenly they were in need of a guitarist and a second vocalist with mere hours until they needed to be on stage. Bridie had a little drum machine that was out of service so she was like ‘Dick if u can get a technician to fix that then I can program it for tonight and then fill in for Ishani’. and everyone in the room was confused as fuck because they’ve never seen Bridie pick up a guitar and in any case surely she can’t learn all those songs in that amount of time? wrong. she knew the songs the whole time.

And to ease her voice dysphoria she went on drunk, gave both leon and cardinal a beer or two, whole show started going slightly downhill and at the very end Cardinal fell off the stage but critics said ‘the atmosphere was phenomenal, a surprisingly raw and vulnerable side to Spare Change,’ the live versions were also immensely popular bootlegs because Bridie’s whole guitar style is very rock and gave the songs a different sound.

Ishani was lowkey pissed because not only did she not get to perform with Hopscotch (who were doing the set too) (Ishani is kind of a bit in love with Hopscotch) but also the fact that everyone seemed so excited for Bridie and the applause was unlike anything Ishani had ever gotten.

Bridie’s point in the argument was that she’s the drummer and doesn’t appear in nearly as much promo material or interviews as any of the other three. People were hyped because she doesn’t get to do much otherwise.

Ishani was mostly panicking because her arm was broken and her face scarred and she was doubting her ‘usefulness’ to the band and didn’t want to be suddenly replaced. Her being physically in pain was kind of stressing her out and while she’s fairly level headed and rational, the loss of control was not good for her.

the argument went on for a while and Leon was pretty torn between supporting his childhood best friend (Ishani) and the woman that he was falling in love with (Bridie)

it eventually ended with Bridie kind of going ‘look, if you don’t want me here you can replace me with a machine you can fit in a suitcase. Choice is yours.’

And so things calmed down.

But they did go on hiatus for a bit to let Ishani get better, and Bridie went back to do farm work for a while.

Leon and Bridie like each other bc they’re good foils. Leon experiences a lot of existential anxiety which he doesn’t really know how to express and it keeps him up at night sometimes but Bridie chills him right out and just says silly things to take his mind off it. And Bridie absolutely cannot keep track of time but Leon stresses out about making everything on time and keeping things in order so he’s good at reminding her when things need to be done and making sure that they do actually get done. Issues arise when Bridie does stupid shit and then Leon gets worried about her

She likes to self medicate with whatever the trallum version of weed is, mostly in edibles, but she went off it for a while in 2006 to try ritalin which she was really bad at remembering to take. But she was also really bad at remembering where she put her brownies which miraculously only ended badly once.

Following the events of DotMPC she pursues a solo career which Dick actually suggested to her shortly before the book begins (he tolerates her slightly more than the others so that means they’re practically besties)

She can also skateboard and has matching star tattoos with Leon <3

#mine #bridie hyland

[disaster-cryptid]

I'm not gonna lie, I lost hope for things getting better 3 years ago, and everything since has just been a death march where occasionally fun times with partners and metamours happen despite the constant lingering feeling of being completely broken and empty, and getting more broken with every attempt to try and put myself back together... I'm almost at the point where I just want to finish the job, I just want to not feel so empty any longer, I want to actually like myself.

My partner recently visited and while there were times I was smiling and even felt joy I still felt so hollow, and empty even when they were finally in my arms and me in theirs. Their friend and now my newest Metamour also has been great and I just feel devoid, they've even expressed interest in me, in making us a triad but, I've not seen what anyone likes about me in a long time, I feel only about as much worth as an unusual conversation starter plant pot.

I feel so empty, constantly. I've completely lost interest in researching things, staying up to date and even reading theory something I used to do every fucking day. I've basically just felt like the past few years have been me walking through a barren dead desert as my interests and personality slowly slip off me until I'm nothing, sometimes I'll try and keep something or go back for something lost, until the inevitable apathy sets back in and I just don't care to keep it anymore.

I recently had a day where I took care of myself, cleaned my living space a little, finally grieved over a relationship I'd been trying to just surpress but tonight, tonight I just want the reaper to take me, tonight I want to be free off this pathetic shell of my former self.

I feel like I'm broken with pieces scattered to the winds and everyone is just telling me that I'll somehow be put back together, and I even delude myself into thinking I can get better despite the past 3 years proving otherwise.

I'm missing a piece, the piece that kept me fighting, the piece that kept me hopeful that I could do anything useful or helpful, that piece is gone, it's been 3 years and I still haven't found it,

I don't know what to do with myself anymore because even my attempts at throwing myself away have been half hearted failures. I just put on a painted grin and try to not let others lose that same piece of hope I have.

Waiting for the thing that finally breaks me for good...

#suicidal

[anderhearn]

Passing Doves - Chapter 5 - Ready, Set

Audy looks at Simon’s number wondering if she should try to contact him and quite surprised he didn’t already call. “You know Moore, he is actually the first guy to not try to sleep with me twice,” Audy sighs in slight disappointment, “must have been thinking about work and gave an awful lay,” she says shaking her head, “this job is destroying my personal life.”

————

Audy and Kahn Lee sit in silence as they look over their notes from the interview with Mr. Keen,

"He is completely shaken up." says Kahn-Lee as she leans back in her chair.

"Well," Audy sips her water, “I think anybody would be given the circumstances."

"All I know is there are far too many murders. Yeah, I know one is too much, but you get my drift. It is just too damn hard right now to link these to anything. This could be a standalone.”

says Kahn-Lee as she stretches her arms.

"That crime scene was an absolute mess. Clearly who ever the fuck is doing this is a stone cold psychopath. Could probably spot the insane fuck from a mile away." says Audy.

Kahn-Lee flips through her notebook,

"Fly away. What does that even mean? I don't think carving that into Mrs. Keen was planned. Judging by it, it was done in haste." says Kahn-Lee.

"I know we've already discussed this, but I think it was personal. Mr. Keen says he doesn't have any enemies, but goddamn, I am certain it was someone they know," says Audy as she studies her notebook, “Doves. There has to be major importance to that."

Cruz walks into the office and pours himself a cup of coffee,

"Hey, Cruz. You're a bird guy, right?" asks Kahn-Lee.

"A bird guy? I'm not a bird guy. I just have a couple of parrots."

"We just got done interviewing Mr. Keen and he made several mentions how the killer called them doves." says Audy.

"Doves?" Cruz takes a long drink of coffee, "I used to go dove hunting with my father years ago. We would always try to kill them in pairs since they mate for life."

Kahn-Lee nods her head, "The Dove Killer. “Oh!” She flips through her notebook, “The Rustin's didn't have wedding rings on." 

Audy taps her desk, "TDK. Same killer?"

"Don't jump the gun. They could have sold their rings, never bought them in the first place, or God knows what. And not to mention, that is quite the leap from those killings to that of Mrs. Keen."

"Or," says Audy, "We are dealing with a serial killer that hunts couples and takes their rings as a trophy. 

"And fly away was done in haste because Mr. Keen got away." says Kahn-Lee.

"Theories," Cruz says as he sits down at his desk, "and it seems like a real strain to connect those dots."

Audy groans as she strokes her chin feeling slightly deflated, 

"Or these aren't connected and it was just a home invasion. The Rustin's place was ransacked and some things were definitely taken."

"Kahn-Lee shakes her head, "I like your hunch about there being a serial killer that goes after couples. It’s a good framework to start with."

"Evidence, evidence, evidence," says Audy as she continues to tap the desk. “Well, I’m not playing this fucked up waiting game with TDK. Theory or not  I’m leaking to the media.” 

Cruz shakes his head, "That is gonna cause a goddamn firestorm. I don't think it is a good idea to scare the public like that."

Audy nods her head, "I wouldn't call it that. We are just making a public service announcement, warning them while also getting their help. A million pairs of eyes is better than 8."

“We have a rather disturbing development,” says the anchor as he shakes his head in disgust, “Yes, very disturbing." says the opposite anchor, "The DPD reached out to our network to let the public know about a possible serial killer that targets couples. The police ask that everyone stay vigilant and to please call Dallas Homicide or the non emergency number if you have information of any kind.”

Simon closes YouTube and looks out his 30th floor hotel window. He was a little surprised that the police reached out to the public so quickly. He thought he had a few more killings before that happened.

“Oh well.” Simon says aloud as he thinks about Jonathan running down the street squawking like an idiot. 

Simon runs his hand over the pair of bar girl asses that were sleeping off the bender from the night before. He smiles as he thinks about how much better Audy had been than these two. 

He picks up his phone and finds Audy's number. He starts to send her an iMessage but switches back to YouTube to watch the video again. Simon shakes his head in disappointment knowing that the video had actually gotten to him and trying to contact Audy was just a response.

It had been 5 days since the botched killing and Thailand was treating him well. He had almost forgotten about his stupid err right until that video. 

What kind of conversations about him were the police having? Was there any information that he needed to know? Do they have any leads? The questions filled Simon's head like a favorite song. 

Simon violently shakes the 2 bar girls awake, "Time to go ladies. I got some things to do." One of the bar girls rolls over and puts her head in Simon's lap, "You give me 2000 baht and I stay with you all day. OK?" 

"I said get the fuck out!" Simon shouts as an image of Jonathan flashes in his mind, "now pack your shit and leave. If I wanna see you again I know where to find you."

A few minutes later Simon is eating a breakfast of steak and lobster with an expensive bottle of wine. "Breakfast of champions," he says aloud as he looks over the bustling Pattaya Beach, “Fucking dove."

 He couldn't get the video out of his head. This new trouble had been all of his fault and he was painfully aware of it. Simon nods his head in satisfaction as he settles on the task of hunting down that lost dove and absolutely destroying it. 

The heat was on and it was far too hot to return back to Dallas and get active again. 1 month of laying on the beach, having sex with bar girls, drinking the very best spirits, wine, and imported beer, and a couple nights of getting high on newly legalized weed would be a good stress reliever. 

Or maybe honing the dark art in Thailand. 

"Alright," simon says as he finishes his last bite of breakfast, "just 2 doves here." Simon smiles as he thinks about how easy it will be to rip the wings off of a couple of left for dead doves in this environment. The bar scene in Pattaya was always running at full speed with all the girls, horny men, alcohol, drugs, and apathetic attitudes. 

By the end of the night Simon had found his next targets. 

The land of smiling, soon to be dead doves.

#short story #short+stories #dallas #thriller #murder #police #short fiction

[effervescentnonsense]

Rant incoming, regarding Some Bullshit and Abusive People

Scroll on if you arent about that

Two rentals ive lived in in a row now, I have been bullied and verbally abused and manipulated and targetted by someone who gets off on pissing other people off and being controlling.

I am so sick and tired of being used and abused like this. One of them was a former friend who I now see was always controlling and manipulative, they just preferred admiration as their primary "take"

This new man, who is twice my age, a random stranger the landlord leased to in the 3bdrm place i live in (im a 29yr old afab), has known me for less than a month, and picked his first fight with me monday night, over an unswept floor, a shower curtain bunched up, and a wet footprints in the bathroom. He used these as an excuse, plus being drunk, to verbally berate and belittle me for several minutes, calling me a slob and and "as bad as (alcoholic other roommate, also a middle aged man)". The house is very clean. Yes, the floor needs to be swept more often, but this was the first time he ever voiced concerns over the other things. And none of that makes someone deserving of being abused.

He has only known me 3 weeks and he knows a little of the stuff i have been through because i foolishly told him. And in one argument he tried to set off every trigger he could think of.

When i told him the next day i didnt appreciate being spoken to that way, and that there are better ways to communicate than that, he was unapologetic. "Thats how its going to be, because you dont fucking listen".

What didnt I hear, asshole? You spouting anti-asian racism when our landlord is a Chinese woman? Your conspiracy theory bullshit about China is funding Russia? Because yes, I did stop listening to that shit. If i wanted to hear some quack theories, I'd ask the ducks at the pond about astrophysics. You're a power tripping little man who thinks he is so much smarter than everyone, that you admit to manipulating the alcoholic, but think I don't see your attempts at doing the same to me now?

He is a divorcee with no job, his kids and exwife dont want him around, his only friend is his cousin, he just dropped a long standing friendship with a man who was his boss for a little bit. No one wants to be around that, and for good reason.

But I've known enough people like this that I know how deeply insecure and guilty he is. But he is in denial of it. He acts egotistical to cover up the fact that he is deeply ashamed of himself. He is controlling and manipulative because he feels so small and out of control that using others like chess pieces makes him feel strong.

I'm going to talk to the landlord when I can, because I am not staying around someone like that.

I just want peace, and i want to be treated with respect.

My mom keeps saying "theres some lesson here you need to learn" but the only thing i havent tried yet is unleashing my anger on this jackass, but i dont want him to get the satisfaction. He isnt worthy of my rage, he isnt worth the trouble. I dont need to stoop to his level or play his games. He is the pigeon on the chessboard, and the only way to win against someone who is going to knock all the pieces over and shit on the board if they start to lose? Is to not play at all.

#delete later #id love to really put him in his place. but i dont need to. he knows where it is. he just wants to drag everyone down with him.

[rummagebox]

So I recently watched Dr Strange: Multiverse of Madness.

I don't recommend watching it, but go ahead, if that's your thing, and decide for yourself, but if you plan to watch it be warned that this post contains SPOILERS.

So one of the theories in Multiverse of Madness is that dreams are just your other life in a different universe. Cool idea, right?

So I had a dream that I lived in a world where the dead walked, sort of, and they were amicable and pretty chill and it was part of my family's job to tend to their housing and upkeep. Why did we start doing this? Apparently we started a revolution after my little siblings died and woke up again, and the government wanted to put them down despite them being peaceful.

So pretty cool, pretty interesting, but also what the FUCK.

My little siblings??? Died???

They are CHILDREN, okay, they're like ten, they're BABIES.

And they DIED?

Y'all, I straight up started bawling, even though they were still walking around, wet and drippy, because they DROWNED, apparently, and everyone was trying to reassure me it was an accident and they're okay, but long story short I woke up still crying.

I don't like that universe.

That me can keep that life, if they've made their peace with everything, I'll stay in MY world, thanks, where my little siblings are annoying brats who stick Legos everywhere and cling to my ankles and beg to watch me play horror videos games and are not calm, reasonable children easily explaining their death to me. I like them actually living, thanks.

Tl;dr Multiverse of Madness sucks and I had a bad dream involving dead children.

#dreams #marvel #multiverse of madness #angst #drowning #dead children #zombie #ghosts

[miekasa]

Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it. 

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby. 

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad. 

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on. 

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying. 

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside. 

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place. 

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone). 

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way. 

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for. 

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch. 

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés. 

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this. 

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it. 

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well. 

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program. 

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do. 

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk. 

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes. 

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to. 

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye). 

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester. 

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other. 

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand. 

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right. 

#anonymous #when.... when.... WHEN IS IT MY TURN #aot x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot imagines #no because he's the love of my whole life #jean fluff #jean smut #eren x reader

[hotwings0203]

I feel like Dabi would be the type of dude who would bully you incessantly at the LOV and for the life of you you can’t figure out why. He’s always around you and making snarky comments or pulling your hair, trying to catch you messing up on missions. You’re sure he hates you, and you do well to stay out of his way, or sometimes when you feel bold you’ll offer a quip of your own. The bullying increases whenever you talk to other guys at the bar, especially when you make Tomura crack a smile, Dabi’s breathing down your neck the second your leader leaves, calling you terrible names and pushing past your boundaries.

Cw: language, nsfw, noncon, manga spoilers, some angst?

In a perfect world, Touya would not have been abandoned and rejected by his family. In a perfect world, Dabi would not exist, and Touya would be eating dinner with his family right now as he shows his little brother how to properly wield fire to its fullest extent.

But there was no such thing as a perfect world, and therefore Dabi did exist. And Dabi doesn’t care for anyone, or anything.

Or so he tells himself.

“Slut”

“Nothing but eye candy, and shitty eye candy at that”

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore him

“What was that all about, huh? The fuck are you and crusty snickering about?”

Fed up with his continuous antics, you decide to mouth off a little too.

“Oh nothing, just talking about how adorable you and Hawks would make as a couple. And wipe that sneer off your face, it looks like some of your staples fell out of your mouth.”

It’s nothing too snarky, but in a second he’s shoving you in some dark room, forearm pinned against your throat as his hand is lit up with blue flames merely inches away from you, snarling in your face.

“You wanna be funny, bitch? I got jokes of my own too, why dont I show you what happens to dumb little girls who don’t know their fucking place? I think that would be real funny.”

But his hand is stopped from drawing near your wide eyes when you both hear Twice and Toga calling everyone for their next meeting.

He pushes you away from him, giving you a murderous look over his shoulder as he leaves the room, not paying mind to the way you slide down the wall in the dark.

You take extra precaution to try avoiding him for the next few days, not even making eye contact with him when you two get teamed up for tasks. He never mentions the room incident, if anything he acts as if it never happens. It’s like whiplash for you, he tries to weirdly talk to you more but all you offer him is mumbles and hums of agreement.

The conversation is never long, but it starts to be less talk of degrading you and more of begrudging questioning of what you’ve been up to. You never engage, opting to pretend like you never heard him, and strangely enough he leaves it be.

You give him a side eye one day as he joins you at the bar (much to your discontent), downing your glass just to fill another.

He says nothing as he slides into the stool right next to you, and pours a glass of whiskey for himself as well.

It’s awkwardly silent, you’re not sure if you should leave or not, but you’d be damned if you try to initiate small talk with this psycho.

But then, he speaks.

“Is Shigaraki sending you on the mission to get that UA kid?”

His gravely voice rumbles and cracks from his usual lack of use, and he clears his throat after he talks.

“No.”

“Oh.”

This is excruciating, you think to yourself as he mulls over the drink in his hand for a silent minute or two.

Toga calls you over thankfully at the exact same moment, and you breathe out an inaudible sigh of relief as you slip off the stool to join her.

“Wait-“ Dabi grabs your arm and you flinch out of instinct, expecting a slap or a burn to come from him.

He sees your reaction and shakes his head dismissively, letting you go and muttering a “Nevermind”. You don’t ponder over it as you trip over your own feet to join the eccentric blond.

A week passes, and then two. With each day you maneuver your way around him, request to be partnered up with different people in private, and busy yourself in random tasks. Every time you pass him by the bar he lifts his head from whatever he’s doing and tries to maintain eye contact with you, even going so far as to open his mouth to say or ask god-knows-what.

You try to ignore the foreign hopeful glint in his glacial eyes as you walk right past him, ducking your head as you do so.

It drives Dabi crazy.

He can’t handle any more rejection, he thought his family would be the last straw for him to ever want recognition or love validation from again. He wants to talk to you, to hear your voice as it snaps back with witty comebacks of your own that he secretly enjoys so much, even if it means he has to force it out of you with hateful words. He wants to feel your hair underneath his scarred hands, even if he has to mask the soft wanting of you in forms of yanking the strands. He wants nothing more than to see your eyes fill up with no other sight than him and think only of him, even if it means he has to corner you and scare you into submission.

But your silence is something he’s not used to.

Well, to be fair, you weren’t silent completely, but the only sentences he was hearing from you nowadays was when you were speaking to Shigaraki or the other League members.

You were the only idiot who didn’t notice the smoke curling from his nostrils and ears comically when he’d finally see you stop your stoic act just to open up to other men apart from him. Spinner, Twice, and Compress backed off almost immediately from talking to you for too long when they’d see the look on his face as he watched you surrounded by them, but Tomura would merely smirk from behind your shoulders and keep a level gaze with his subordinate, knowing fully well why he was so pissed off.

You began to notice the weird energy at the base soon after the rest of the men would keep curt conversations with you in comparison to your long talks about video games, sex, and life after you would all win the war.

So you thought it would be best to ask the most semi-normal person there that wasn’t fueled with testosterone and aggression.

“I just don’t get it, why are they all being weird? I mean, we all used to talk so much and now they just...try avoiding me. Except for Tomura of course, he’s still normal I guess. But he always has this smirk on his face when I’m with him and I can’t figure out why.”

Toga stops cleaning her blood-laced needle to give you a sly look, all fangs and glinting white.

“And Dabi?”

“What about him?”

She sits back on her haunches and cocks her head at you. “You really don’t know what’s happening here, do ya?”

“No,” you roll your eyes in exasperation. “But I’ll gladly take any theories here, since apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t get it.”

“He likes you.”

You gape at her for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“What? That’s crazy, he doesn’t like me, he hates me!” He can barely stand being in a room with me, all he does is talk shit and harass me.”

The blond curiously licks at a bead of red from the top of the weapon and you cringe when her own tongue rips from the sharp point.

“You say he can’t stand being in a room with you, so then why is it that he’s always there? He might talk shit, but he talks to you out of everyone else right? Regardless of if it’s something mean.”

You’re thoroughly flabbergasted. She had a point, but it was too much to wrap your head around. She cheerfully hums and gets up to flounce around the room, cleaning her already-tidy room up to a T.

“And that little silent treatment act you’re giving him isn’t helping either. I swear, Jin told me Dabi almost burned his mouth off that one day you, him and Spinner were talking about GTA. He totally cornered the poor guy and threatened his life if he didn’t stop talking to you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Am not. He wanted to do the same to Tomura but I figure he wants to keep his job, so he won’t. Doesnt make it any better for him when you’re all chummy with the one person Dabi can’t stand the most, though.”

No wonder your leader was so smug whenever you two were in the same room, your attention solely focused on him.

You run your hands down your face, moaning about the whole situation being fucked. It’s just your luck that you couldn’t take a clue, but to be fair, how could you? Being called worthless and a waste of space wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for flirty banter.

“Soooo what’re you gonna do now? I heard he’s gonna try talking to you for realsies like, tomorrow or something.”

“Tomorrow?” You yelp, jumping up to your feet. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I can’t face him!”

“Oops,” she giggles, twirling with outstretched arms around her room and falling down onto her bed.

“Oh god, I can’t do this. I don’t even know if I like him! He’s such an ass, and even when he tries to come off as normal he’s just so..unsettling. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good conversation with him.”

Toga props her elbow up to rest her chin on her hand, frowning in thought.

“Why not just tell him how you feel?”

You snort and fold your arms. “Yeah, because the psycho arsonist is really gonna take the word no well.”

“Hmm.. I see what you mean. Oh well, whatever you choose, I’ll support you!”

And with that she skips out of the room sing songing for Twice to make a clone for her.

You were fucked.

And sure enough, the next day he approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets and an almost bored look on his face.

“Yo newbie, I gotta talk to you for a second. Come with me”.

You look blearily up at him through eye bags and mussed hair, a direct telling of your sleepless night. Your stomach drops when you hear his words, but you nod your head and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself of the speech you practiced till the sun rose.

No one else is bothering you both today, Shigaraki having gone to visit All For One and the rest of the League left to their own devices. It was something you weren’t so comfortable with, but you doubted a hero would come to save you.

He leads you through the short winding hallways, each step of his growing louder and heavier as the space started growing smaller. Finally, he reaches a dimly lit room and stops outside the door, gesturing for you to go in with a casual wave of his patched wrist.

“After you.”

You raise an unsure eyebrow at his uncharacteristic show of consideration, and do as he says. You’re sweating bullets, fists balled so that your nails are digging into your palms, and vision going in and out of focus as your eyes begin to adjust to your surroundings.

A loud bang pulls you out of your stupor, and you whip around at the sound.

Dabi is already staring back at you with lidded eyes, leaning his weight against the door, his arms crossing over each other.

You shift on both feet, picking at your nails nervously.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

He says nothing, but just observes you, his head slightly tilted as if you were some abstract art piece.

“Dabi.”

“You got a lot of nerve, y’know that?”

He pushes himself off the wall and advances slowly towards you, hands stuffed in his trench coat pockets.

You immediately back up with raised palms, sputtering indignantly at his offensive movements coming closer and closer. However you thought his ‘confession’ would go, this was most definitely not starting out like how you planned

“Excuse me? What’re you talking about-“

“I know what you’re doing. You think whoring yourself out to ol’ crusty and the rest of the guys here is gonna make everyone forget just how useless you actually are. What the fuck do you even do here? You fuck up half the missions which I have to come bail your ass out of, you constantly put us in jeopardy by being all friendly with everyone, and you can’t even keep your mouth shut when I need to let off a little steam, as I rightfully should.”

In a perfect world, Dabi would be the light of your eyes, the hero of your world. In a perfect world, Dabi would be able to hold your hand in his smooth one and tell you that he wants you so much that it impairs his rational judgement and makes him say things he doesn’t mean. He’d tell you that your presence is like a weight lifted off his chest, your presence means he doesn’t have to think or worry about the outside world, he just wants you all to himself without anyone interfering.

But this is not a perfect world, and Dabi is not a hero, but rather one of the worst villains.

So he does exactly what one does as a villain.

Instead of a loving look that he knows he’s incapable of, Dabi looks down into your horrified gaze as he traps you against the wall between his scarred arms, spewing misplaced venom at you.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to chill out. First you go ballistic on me ‘cause I talked to Tomura for no reason, then you act all weird and quiet as if you’re some decent person, and now you think you can just bring me in here and tell me how worthless I am? Go fuck yourself, seriously.”

You scoff and make your way to push him but stop when he does what he did a couple weeks ago. You hold bated breath as he casually brings an inflamed hand to scratch at his face as if he can’t feel the hellfire emitting from it, and let out a whine of distress as he lowers his head mere inches from yours, lips almost touching.

“Stop talking to the rest of the guys,” he breaths. “Stop smiling, laughing, or going near anyone who isn’t me.”

You wonder if he knows how insane he sounds. He does, but that’s nothing he doesn’t know already. If anything, it solidifies in his mind that if he is to be as bad as the world has made him out to be, then he is acting exactly fit for the role.

“Why?”

“I don’t need to give sluts like you a reason. It should come as easy, right? What’s putting out for one more person?”

Your eyes are brimming with tears now, your stoic facade showing cracks as you sniffle a little bit.

He eats it up and groans watching salty rivers cascade down your cheeks. Suddenly, he feels as though he can no longer hold back anymore, he feels as though if he thinks for one more second he’ll combust.

So, acting on instinct, he surges forward and presses his lips against yours, swallowing your cries of distress and holding your hands above your head in midst of them frantically beating on his chest.

Your lips are so, so soft compared to his and it’s making him sink deeper into this instinctual daze. He puffs against your writhing lips as he thrusts his hot tongue in your mouth.

You try to bite him but when his hands heat up against your skin you resign to your fate and wail, allowing him to pull his hips flush against yours and start humping your thighs.

He draws back and bites your lips, teeth clacking against yours as he does so. You open your terrified eyes and blanch when you see the look on his face.

Lust is clearly drawn everywhere, from his blown pupils to his heaving chest, all the way to his flushed face and wild eyes. He looks as though he’s about to eat you alive and it’s appropriate that you feel like a lamb about to be slaughtered.

“Dabi, wait, please stop-“

But he cuts your pants off again in favor of slamming his hips against yours again and grinding impossibly hard on your legs, the friction of his jeans catching on your clothed cunt and forcing a mewl out of you.

“I’m not gonna stop. I’ve had enough of you teasing. You’re mine now, and if it takes burning our dear leader alive and this whole place down for you to understand that then I’ll fucking do it.”

He thought that terrorizing you would ease the empty feeling in his heart, that continuously berating you would force him to see you as what he always said you were, just another empty headed cunt. He thought that distancing himself from you and focusing on other things would make him forget about the soft feelings he longed to share with you, feelings he thought perished in the fire he was in when he was a young boy .

Even now, there is an ache in his chest as he hears you beg for him to stop, to let you go, that you’re sorry for whatever you did.

But this is not a perfect world, and not everyone gets their way in life.

You should really learn that, because Dabi already has.

And so Dabi will act accordingly to what life has put out before him .

#dabi imagine #yandere dabi x reader #dabi smut #bnha imagines #bnha smut #mha smut #yandere dabi #tw: noncon #touya #bnha touya #touya todoroki #Dabi #dabi x reader

[grassbreads]

I have not been able to stop thinking about the 3x9 ceo Tom theory and how good at is since I first read @shootingaflower‘s take on it, so uh, here are some of my many thoughts on the matter:

For a few reasons, I’m pretty certain that the Gerri/Roman dick pic incident is going to end with Gerri staying on as an executive with Waystar, but losing her position as Interim CEO. This leaves an opening.

As of right now, given the tragic dick-downfall of Roman and Gerri, Tom is the only character that has gained favor with Logan this season, rather than lost it. Like Shiv said, he “banked gold” with him when he offered to take the fall for cruises, and Logan’s made it clear that he’ll remember that. When everyone else is fucking up to hell and back (or just personally annoying him, like Shiv), and Tom has recently proven himself to be incredibly loyal and subservient, he’s really the only choice for replacement that makes any kind of sense.

And with that reasoning out of the way, let’s talk about all the ways this theory makes me insane:

First of all, it does a super good job at bringing a sense of meaning to Tom’s season-long prison crisis, which I think we very much need. Right now, given that he spent so much of his time this season fretting about it, the resolution to the “Tom’s going to jail” plotline feels a little hollow. His getting off the hook came out of more or less nowhere, and except for worsening his relationship with Shiv a bit (which probably would have happened anyway), nothing ever came of all that emphasis. If Logan made Tom CEO, though? Now that would be payoff. Letting Tom reap the rewards of his offer would be a brilliant way to make the threat of prison keep feeling like it was significant without him actually having to go, and it would be so cathartic to give him a win in exchange for all that misery and stress.

Plus, the way all this works as a twist on Shiv is fucking delicious. Her encouraging Tom to offer himself up as sacrifice was one of the all time cruelest things she’s done to him, and I think it really cemented (for both Tom and the audience) just how little he can rely on her for love or tenderness. So if she gets fucked over and loses the CEO position to Tom specifically because of the offer that he only made because she encouraged him? Talk about karma being a fucking bitch.

CEO Tom also creates a huge opportunity for more playing with the Tom/Emperor Nero comparison, which I am also obsessed with. The story of Nero and his wife, as Tom tells it at least, is that he killed her by kicking her down a flight of stairs. There’s a really amazing web weaving post that’s been going around digging into the Tom/Nero parallel, but my one problem with that post is that I just don’t think Tom could ever physically hurt Shiv. No matter how bad their marriage gets, I cannot see him doing that. What I can see, however, is Tom “killing” her in the Roy sense of the word, and his taking on the CEO position would absolutely be that in her eyes.

As of 3x8, Shiv wants to be CEO now more than ever, and she sees Tom as her tool/ally in that fight. She’s desperate for it, and she’s also actively gaming and manipulating the situation with Roman and Gerri to try and put herself on top. This is her chance to move up, and there’s no telling when she’ll get another one. Given how much she takes for granted that Tom’s on her side, his using this opening she’s helped create to steal the job she wants so desperately would feel like a huge betrayal. It would kill her, both emotionally and with regards to her career.

Then we’d have Tom taking on the highest non-Logan role in the company (hello emperor parallel) and “killing” his wife all in one plausible move. And given how she treated him last episode, right now is one of the only times that I think Tom is actually capable of doing something that would hurt her.

Plus, once Tom is made emperor and his wife's been “killed,” there’s space to explore the rest of the Nero parallel. Tom doesn’t mention it to Greg, but it’s widely said that Nero’s wife was pregnant when he killed her, and Tom and Shiv have been talking about having kids a lot, so it’s possible they could do something with that connection. And, of course, there’s the whole “Nero castrates and marries Sporus” thing, and whether or not anything explicitly romantic or sexual happens between Tom and Greg, there’s a million ways they could push that parallel.

#succession #tom wambsgans #i wanted to post this on my sideblog but it's still being weird abt posts showing up in tags :( #so anyway follow me @wambsgraham lol #also I still have more to say about this #but I'm just gonna add on in a reblog bc this is already a mile long #tomgreg

[goffilolo]

TWO AND A HALF DEVILS AU (part 1)

Time for a bit of a rundown for this au (read this post to get the full context). It ended up being quite long, so i will write out the main events of this au in few parts:

Astaroth the Supreme Time Devil is off his shits trying to find a way around the hellgate to get into the human world. This guy has not slept for the past 3 days and downed like 7 monster drinks or whatever the hell equivalent of those is. Megicula is the unwilling audience of his batshit crazy rants that sound borderline like conspiracy theories.

“So after I figure out how to rip my soul and my magic away from each other I should be able to pass through the hell gates easily. Now, I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Astaroth but what will you do in the human realm without any magic?’ and the answer to that is you know how humans contract us to use some of our magic? Right? What if I instigate a faux contract with MYSELF to summon my own magic which would’ve been left behind in the underworld? So then-”

Megicula meanwhile is looking at him like:

And then, because Astaroth is a master of bullshitting his way through things IT FUCKIN WORKS…to some extent. His ass is now physically manifested in the human world, but it’s relatively unstable. Man can barely access his own magic and cannot stay there indefinitely.

Enter Licita.

Licita accidentally stumbles upon this motherfucker in the forest and is not impressed. Their interaction looks a little like this:

“Do you know who I am, human? I am Astaroth the supreme time devil! You better learn to fear me!”

“Oh yeah? In that case Mr Time Devil, can you tell me what time it is?”

“Uhh…that’s not how my magic works”

“I dunno, sounds to me like you’re just bad at your job”

So my girl Licita ends up roasting this guy to hell and back and then she gives him a pocket watch, and tells him that he will most likely need it more than she does and then calls him “A devil of fuck-all”. Astaroth is smitten to say the least.

Unfortunately he is physically unable to stay in the human realm for long periods of time, so his ass does eventually ‘dissolve’ if you will and returns to the underworld. The watch that Licita gave him is now his most prized possession and he takes it with him.

Fast forward a bit and Astaroth has been consistently manifesting in the human realm to become a full time simp and try to get Licita’s attention. Hage deadass had to get used to the fact that there is a devil roaming around, who is constantly being chased away by Licita with a broom. As per original post Licita does end up giving in and sleeping with him, believing that he was only after one night stand, while Astaroth is already planning their wedding. Fast forward a little bit more and what do you know? Licita is pregnant and my man Astaroth has been blessed with them stonks. So not only do they have a shotgun wedding, but Astaroth also convinces Licita to go through a devil marriage contract, which essentially binds Astaroth to her forever and it also stabilizes his manifestation in the human realm (magic is still very limited, cause bitches really can't have it all).

So now you got Astaroth quitting his job as supreme devil in the underworld to be a full time househusband in the countryside. This man has successfully learnt how to knit and he is about to make it everyone’s problem. He is getting ready to have the best dressed baby in all of Hage.

When the baby is born it comes out looking entirely human to everyone’s surprise. Just a split image of Licita. She does end up taking pity on her simp of a husband and names the baby after him. (Yes, this does mean that Asta’s actual, legal name on his birth certificate is ‘Astaroth Staria Junior’ and it literally never gets mentioned by anyone. Yuno doesn't even know what Asta’s full name is until they register for the magic knights exam).

So my man Astaroth now has a baby that he dotes on and he constantly goes around the village telling anyone who will listen (as well as those who won’t) about how cute his baby is. So the village does end up getting harassed by a devil in a way, if you can count aggressive updates on a baby’s developmental milestones as such.

#black clover #two and a half devils au #astaroth #licita