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cookiebelle · 2 years ago

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Damian Priest NSFW Alphabet

Pretty self explanatory.

NSFW under the cut, so please, MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume on the internet.

Read the accompanying one shot here!

Warnings: smut, obviously. Afab reader. Oral m&f receiving. Kink. Pet names. Mention of knife play. Not sure what else. Let me know if I should put up any other warnings.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Damian strikes me as a protector. He is always quick to wrap a possessive arm around his teammate in the ring, or care for them after a particularly brutal match. For that reason, I think he’s pretty decent at aftercare, once he’s gotten over that beautiful afterglow. He gets up and cleans you off, then runs and brings some snacks and water while you get up to pee (because you should ALWAYS pee after sex!!!), both of you crawling back into bed and him wrapping his arms around you until you fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s really into his arms, I think. They’re so strong and yet capable of being soft when he holds you close to him. He loves to show them off and flex them, and he loves the tattoos that cover them.

As far as you goes, he’s always had a thing for eyes, so he’d probably say that if you asked him. He’s an ass man, though. So in actual reality, it’s that. He loves to squeeze it, pinch it, smack it. You’re lucky he keeps his hands off it, period.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The man looooooves it when you swallow. But he loves coming on your face even more. When he pulls out, coming on your ass is a must. But more than anything, he loves that primal urge to cum inside you and claim you for himself, and who would you be to deny him? Bonus points: he lives for pictures of you with his cum on your face. Has a whole folder of them on his phone.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Prior to you guys getting together, in the years you two were “just friends” with palpable sexual tension, he would jerk off to your Instagram photos. Nothing particularly racy, either. Just pictures of you that did enough to put your image in his head. He will absolutely take this secret to his grave.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Pretty experienced. Remember his NXT days? Exactly. He really has slowed down since then, though. That being said, during your friendship, you’ve seen him with plenty of girls. It’s safe to say he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows enough to still take the time to get to know exactly what your body needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This is pretty tough. He likes missionary, he loves taking you from behind, and he loves when you ride him. His favorite, though… would have to be a mating press or something of the like. Something that leaves you fully open and accessible to him so he can get *deep* inside you, and that also leaves you pinned and folded up in a way that he has complete control over you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Get you a man who can do both. Sex is fun for him, and even more fun with the right partner that he can just be himself with. He loves to laugh, no matter the activity. His more serious side is definitely present, though, and it doesn’t take much to bring it out. He can go from laughing and playing with you to “that’s right. Take it, slut” in .2 seconds flat. He loves the look in your eyes you get when he brings out The Serious Voice, especially in public.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed. He’s a man who takes good care of himself, his hair is no different. It’s not waxed/shaved, but it’s definitely trimmed well.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s surprisingly gentle and sweet when the moment calls for it. He absolutely worships your body in a way you’ve never experienced before, like every inch of you is gold to him. Even when he’s rough and Dominant and needs you like air, there’s a level of intimacy in the urgency. Oh, and he’s a fucking great kisser. So even in the filthiest moments, there’s unmatched passion between the two of you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh, absolutely. Before a match. When he’s away on tour without you, or you without him. At this point he has some good nudes of you so he doesn’t have to resort to your Instagram pictures. One of his favorite things is mutual masturbation. He’s an exhibitionist at heart, and he loves putting on a show for you. He loves seeing you get so turned on by him stroking himself, if he’s not careful he’ll cum way too fast.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

So many but here’s a few:

Bondage: he likes tying you up. He learned a few basic shibari techniques and absolutely has had you walking around with a rope harness under your clothes a few times.

Breeding: does he want kids eventually? Probably. Right now, at the height of his career? Not exactly. However, there’s something so distinctly primal about growling in your ear that he’s going to fill you up until it takes and make you carry his baby so you can be all his. The idea is just as terrifying to you, but that doesn’t stop you from desperately begging for it.

Dumbification: in the sense that he likes to get you so cock drunk to the point where you’re unable to string a coherent sentence along and he can coo condescendingly at you “oh gatita, what’s wrong? Is it too much? Good.”

Impact play: he has big, strong hands and a penchant for making you whine and beg with every slap across your ass. For more? For him to stop? The world may never know.

Knife play: he collects close range weapons. Safe to say he has a collection of knives along with that. He has one specifically for playing with you (one of his favorites, something as pretty as you). He drags it lightly along your skin while you’re tied up, or even gently scratches his initials into you when you two are really deep in the moment. He rarely draws blood, honestly, but the danger of having a blade to close to you is just intoxicating.

There’s so many more, I could write a whole fic just about his kinks.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I think he’s a semi-public sex type of man. Like out in the alleyway behind the bar, or in a far corner of the bowels of the arena you’re performing at that night. He’s strong enough to pick you up and pin you against any wall, and boy does he take advantage of that.

As far as in your respective living spaces, he’s definitely a traditional bedroom guy but he’s also a “bend you over the counter while you’re cooking dinner” guy and a “eat you out on the couch while you’re watching a boring movie” guy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

YOU. You smiling and talking with your friends as he observes you from across the room. You doing your skincare at the end of the night. You wrestling. You doing the most mundane things like grocery shopping or cooking. He waited years to be with you and now that he finally is, everything about you turns him on. When you catch him staring, you love to tease him. Giving him that innocent look he loves so much, or little touches along his arm as you walk by. Expect a text from him, promising you’ll pay when you two get home.

When you’re alone, the teasing is so so so much worse. Bending over in front of him to show off your ass, or getting down on your knees at his feet, only to tie his shoe. Eventually the teasing becomes a game between you two and you wait to see which one of you breaks first. It’s almost always you, much to his delight.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

It goes without saying but human waste is just not his bag. He doesn’t have a lot of turn offs, it’s more of a situational thing than anything. There are times that he can’t stand to make you hurt (impact play, cnc, etc.), there are times he loves it. He won’t scar you, though, or draw a lot of blood (some beads of blood from scratching you are fine). No lasting marks that aren’t done by a professional.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Damian Priest is a pussy eating champion. He’s all about quality, not quantity. Giving you head for an hour doesn’t mean anything if you’re still coherent by the end of it. He can make you cum an embarrassing amount of times, very quickly, with his mouth on your clit and his fingers buried inside your cunt. By the time he’s ready to fuck you, you’re not sure if you can even handle any more (you can, and you do).

He l o v e s you giving him head. It’s one of his all time favorite activities. You look up at him with those big eyes while you take him down your throat and he is GONE. It’s pretty rare that he’s at a loss for words, but your mouth wrapped around his cock officially turns his brain into standby mode. He loves holding you by the hair and fucking your mouth. He loves letting you do all the work. He loves it all.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s a slow but powerful fuck, most of the time. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, and every thrust knocks the wind out of you. He can be rough and fast, too, especially when he finds that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head.

He’s capable of being slow and sensual, too. It’s not often, but there are definitely moments that are charged with passion and feel as though you two are of the same body and spirit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves a quickie, ESPECIALLY before a big match, just to quell his nerves. At least that’s what he says. You think he’ll just take any chance to put his hands on you (you’re right). He loves one in the morning before you guys get up for the day, too. Just something to get him going. “It’s better than coffee,” he’s said many times.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll try anything once, and he’s learned he likes a lot of things he would have never guessed.

He takes risks in the form of fucking you where anyone could happen upon you, or coming inside you and stealing your panties when you’re wearing a skirt/dress. At the HOF ceremony, you absolutely wore his cum dripping down your thighs in your pretty gown, and he smirked every time you adjusted the way you were sitting in order not to stain it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The man’s an athlete, and a good one to boot. He can go at least three rounds on an average night, more on a great night. He lasts pretty long, too, when he has the time. A night in with him is an hours long adventure that leaves you completely exhausted by the end, for sure.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don’t know that he had toys by way of vibrators or anything like that before you and him started seeing each other. Not that he’s against them, he just didn’t have them. With you, he’s down to try anything. His favorite is the hitachi wand. He loooooooves torturing you with it. You got him a fleshlight/pocket pussy because 1) you wanted him to have a toy to play with when you two were apart, since you have a vibrator, 2) you wanted to watch him use it during your little mutual masturbation sessions, and 3) you wanted to use it on him just to torture him as much as he tortures you. It was a rousing success.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

So much??? Like so much. In public it’s constant. Little touches, glances in your direction, pulling you to sit on his lap. Sometimes he steals you away to a random hallway just to make out with you and grab at your ass, for just a moment, then breaks the kiss and walks away as if nothing happened. He leaves you completely disheveled and turned on, and just smirks at you from across the room when you re-emerge after fixing your clothes and hair.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s known for his deep, booming voice and aggressive roars in the ring. In the bedroom, it’s no different. He’s talking dirty, in English and Spanish, to the point where he truly doesn’t shut up, just babbling nonsense by the end of it. He’s groaning about what a good slut you are for him while you take him deep inside you. When he cums, he’s extremely vocal, but able to keep the volume controlled when people are around. If he didn’t, the entire Raw roster would hear him (and they definitely have at least once). He’s growling praises while you take every drop of him, groaning when your cunt clenches around him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s a secret switch, but only in the sense that he’ll give you the illusion of control over him, just to snatch it back from you when you least expect it. He does, however, love seeing you feel powerful. It’s incredibly sexy to him. But he loves being in control more, and you make the cutest face when he’s suddenly on top of you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

👀 I mean, he’s a giant. I can’t imagine he’s disappointing in that department by any means. The first time you fucked, you were certain he was ruining you. And, truth be told, he was. You’re not sure you’d be satisfied with anything else at this point.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH. Like twice a day and three times on weekends kind of high. You wake up to him begging for you (yes, begging. In Spanish.), and he’s on you the moment you get into bed for the night.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I think Damian is a man who can survive on little sleep, so he usually is awake even after you fall asleep. He sits up and alternates between watching tv and watching you sleep.

#damian priest #damian priest smut #damian priest x reader #punishment martinez

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kaysfanficcorner · 1 month ago

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Celebrity Crush, Part 2

Summary: Dieter Bravo's new friend attends opening night of Dieter's play, and afterwards the two of them get more acquainted.

AO3

Author's Note:

I cannot believe it's been so long since I posted the first chapter of Celebrity Crush. Suffice to say, my life got completely turned upside down for awhile. I started a new job, and then shortly after we had a complete psycho living next door to us and had to vacate our home for safety. The last year has been so hard for a multitude of reasons, and although I didn't have the drive in me to do any writing, Celebrity Crush and Out of this World (my Mando series) have remained in the forefront of my mind. Both of these stories are so important to me. A few days ago it suddenly hit me that I was ready to sit behind a keyboard again.

So here we are, the second chapter of Celebrity Crush that should have been posted a over year ago. If you're new to this story, then welcome. If you read the first chapter and wondered why I never posted another, I sincerely hope you're back and you enjoy this one.

As I've said before, this story is really just a fun little fantasy experiment and I probably wont post chapters too frequently. And like most of us, I use my writing to work through personal shit using creativity. Some of it is drawing from reality and some of it is completely made up.

Honestly, I don't care for The Bubble over all. But I think Dieter is such an interesting character for being from a film that didn't have much substance. I feel the Dieter in the film is very different than the Dieter in my head, but what drew me to writing him this way was the thought "What is this man like when he's not riddled with drugs and Hollywood bullshit?" I hope you enjoy my version of Dieter just as much as I do.

Warnings: Marijuana use. Mentions of depression and self hatred. Hints at suicidal thoughts and self harm. And, of course, sexual situations. Rated M/R/18+ as always.

*****

Against the odds you make it to the theater faster than anticipated, but all the while your nerves make the train ride seem to feel agonizingly slow. Every stop eats away at you. It’s crowded and you’re freezing. The thin lace of the shimmery black evening gown may look absolutely killer on you, but the elegant thing isn’t a very warm piece of clothing whatsoever. All you brought with you as far as outerwear goes is the black leather jacket on your back. The only carry on item a small black and gold purse slung across your chest filled with only the bare necessities.

You feel borderline insane, still half convinced that everything you experienced earlier today was the result of falling and busting your head open on the Manhattan sidewalk. Surely you're laid up in some hospital bed with a bandage around your noggin, not on your way to spend an evening with your celebrity crush.

Your thoughts are erratic. Images bouncing around in your head like the orange balls of an arcade basketball game. At first you try to listen to music to quiet the overstimulation, but that only serves to make you more antsy. So you go back to the podcast episode you’d been listening to earlier and the humor is enough to distract you for a little while.

Every now and then, though, you pull up the short text conversation with Dieter to re-read over (more like over-analyze) the messages. With a happy little smile playing at your lips, your fingers hover over the letters of the keyboard. You even type out a message or two before immediately deleting it on more than one occasion. The knot in your stomach feels like its getting tighter by the moment, but looking at the contact photo he'd left for you leaves a warmth in the center of that knot. His eyes are so kind, and the goofy little smile is so genuine.

Groaning to yourself after the fourth time you do this, you shove your phone back in the small handbag with a huff. You want to talk to him again but you're fully aware that he's busy with the show. Closing your eyes, you force yourself to focus on the host of your favorite podcast describing a scene from Poltergeist II. You can't help the girlish daydreaming that eventually creeps into your mind. You imagine that watching Fright Night at Dieter’s will go so well that he invites you back over to marathon the Poltergeist franchise next. Then you imagine making a regular thing of watching horror films with him, curled into his side on some big luxurious couch that you're sure he must own. His hand ghosting over the flesh of your neck as he drapes a long arm over your shoulder, the other hand feeding you popcorn now and again. The giddiest smile yet finds your lips, and an excited little giggle erupts from your throat. Out loud.

Once you remember you’re on the train your eyes snap open in fear. Sure enough, the hot, green haired punk woman across the aisle is smirking right at you as if she knows your worst secret and you flush with mild embarrassment.

Mercifully, somehow, your stop comes up only a few minutes later. You’re off the train and back on street in no time at all, the sun almost completely set and the full moon already hanging high over the city of New York. The littlest taste of dark purple left in the sky is enough to make your heart soar, and you're once again reminded that you live here. In this huge, scary, magical place.

With the help of your trusty GPS you manage find the correct theater in under five minutes. It’s incredibly obvious as you round a corner and your sight is immediately struck with huge lamppost advertisements of Dieter and other actors dressed in Shakespearean garb. You’re not sure how to feel, gooseflesh making it’s way up your arms and back as you stand under the glowing marquee displaying his name in huge red letters. Checking your watch you find that you're actually somewhat early, so there’s plenty of time to get your ticket. Enough time to grab a drink from the bar on your way to your seat, even. Some of the anxiety subsides as you pop another half of a gummy on your way inside, telling yourself that whatever happens next you’re just along on for the ride.

The theater lobby is gorgeous, and it's filled with gorgeous people of every variety. You've been to a Broadway show before, but a matinee of a family friendly musical is a far cry from opening night of a huge production. There are a few minor celebrities you recognize and you're sure a good bit of the crowd is press, or at the very least some sort of influencer. A few of them even seem to be live streaming.

When you approach the box office you slide your ID under the thin gap in the glass, saying your full name to the white haired attendant dressed like a bellhop without the hat. For a split second fear creeps into your belly that all of this really is in your head and the woman is about to tell you there’s no such reservation. But then you’re being handed a thin envelope and she’s telling you to enjoy the show. You look down at the off white paper in your hands, very clearly reading the word “weirdo” scribbled in semi-legible masculine-looking handwriting. A new warmth spreads through you in that moment, and suddenly you’re no longer questioning the reality of where you are or why.

Once you check your jacket at the coat check you’re glad that you found the right dress for such an event. Everyone around you seems very well dressed and well-to-do. In anything else you’d feel so out of place, but in the knockout frock of 2018? You fit in nicely. Henry will most assuredly have to be thanked at a later juncture.

With a gin and tonic in one hand and a ticket in the other, you’re directed to a seat down in the front row but slightly off to the left. Of course he got you front row. How? Who knows and frankly who cares. This is a once in a lifetime kind of day and you intend to enjoy it.

Lights begin to dim shortly after you take your seat, and shortly after that music begins flowing out from the pit orchestra only a few yards away from where you sit. The sound of it reverberates through every single one of your molecules. The great red curtain begins to lift, and suddenly you’re transported into the realm of William Shakespeare. Admittedly never a subject you’ve felt very passionate about, but being here in this place and under these circumstances it suddenly seems quite magical.

Dieter makes his way onto the stage after a short opening scene, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. This is not the man you met on the street and had coffee with earlier that afternoon. No, this is a different man entirely. His handsome face may be the same, but he’s completely become the character he’s playing. Truly acting, you think to yourself with mystified splendor. Watching him move about the stage with such ease brings the biggest grin to your face. Hearing him delivering lines that you would have stumbled over as if they are his original thoughts is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced while watching a live play. He’s so fucking mesmerizing and so fucking talented and you ache for him so fucking bad in this moment.

This is the closest you've ever been to the stage at a show like this, and you realize towards the end of the first act just how much the distance makes a difference. Sure, you can still appreciate a performance from the nosebleeds, but down here in the front row? You can see everything. Every crinkle of the nose, every eyeroll, every movement of the brow. The performance feels so intimate in the front row. You finally understand why people consider it to be worth the cost.

The scene changes to night. Dieter's character is alone on stage, a spotlight following his movements as he confidently strides across. He's making his way over to your side, the closer he gets the more you feel your stomach flip flop inside you. His movements seem both deliberate and natural at the same time, and he begins to deliver a monologue in a soft voice. His eyes suddenly flick out towards you. For a delusional moment it feels as if he's acting to you and you alone, like you're the only audience he has before him and he's putting everything he has into the words flowing from his mouth. Suddenly his voice falters, followed by a long pause. He's still looking in your direction, but then his eyes slip closed and worry that he stumbled over the line floods your system.

Dieter continues to surprise you, though, by lunging into the rest of the monologue with such raw emotion and ferocity. He quickly moves across stage again, giving that side of the audience a taste of it as well. You realize then that all of that had been part of the performance. Watching the emotions he's tapped into radiate from his very being strikes you with such emotion of your own. Hot tears well in you eyes, falling slowly down your cheeks as you steady your breathing to keep control of yourself. Dabbing at your eyes with a napkin, your chest swells for your celebrity crush.

As Dieter finishes, he exits the stage and the curtain begins to drop for intermission. The crowd claps uproariously, yourself among some of the loudest and most enthusiastic.

After such a poignant moment in the show, you definitely feel like you could use to get another drink. You get up to leave just as an attendant stops you at the end of the aisle. The man asks if you are who you are, to which you respond in the affirmative, and then you’re being led out of the auditorium to a restricted area. There you are brought to a green door marked as “Dressing Room 1”, where the attendant raps on the thing three times before taking three strides back.

Door flying open, a disheveled Dieter is revealed to you on the other side. He looks frantic, almost pained. You’re shocked to see him like this after such a rousing performance in the first half of the play. Grabbing your wrist, he thanks the attendant and informs him that this will only take a few moments before yanking you into the small dressing room.

“What’s going on?” You ask, wide-eyed and confused.

Dieter looks you up and down, biting his pouty lower lip while running a hand through his beautiful brown hair. The he seems to remember that he’s not supposed to fuck up the hair, cursing under his breath while moving over to the mirror to fix it. He’s got on heavy stage make up, the eyeliner making him look like a mix between a rock star and a pirate. The dressing room itself looks like every single one you’ve ever seen in a movie. Costumes, make up, and wigs strewn about. Big white lightbulbs lining the large mirror over the vanity. Its surreal to say the least.

“I need your help, if that’s okay,” Dieter says as he turns to you again. “I don’t have a lot of time so this needs to be quick.”

You’re still frozen in place, slightly dumbfounded. “Help with what? You’re doing really great out there, by the way. Amazing, actually.”

“Thanks. Listen, I caught a glimpse of you towards the end of the first act and I’ve been distracted ever since. You look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, muñequita. But I can’t be fucking distracted while I work.” As he says this, he’s taking steps towards you with a very serious expression. Closing the short distance until he’s practically right up against you.

Looking up into his deep chocolate eyes, which are fixated on your mouth, you part you lips and ask him, “How can I help?”

Then his hands fly to your face, and he’s pulling you into him for a kiss. His soft, plump lips find yours eagerly and you respond by melting into his touch. Your hands find his waist, grabbing on either side to steady yourself against the neediness of the kiss while trying not to upset the placement of his costume. The slickness of his tongue entering your mouth causes you to moan, opening wider to allow him better entry. He tastes so fucking good, like honey from the cup of tea he probably had earlier for his voice. His facial hair feels somehow both scratchy and soft against your skin.

And then he’s pulling apart from you, panting slightly as his wild eyes scan your face and his hands drop down to his sides. “Shit, I didn't really ask for permission to touch you like that. M’sorry,” he mumbles, clearly worried that a line has been irrevocably crossed.

You chuckle, glad to know his moral sense is sound. “I would have said yes, if it makes you feel any better. Thanks for caring about not being a dick, though.”

He looks shy, “I like you. Don’t want to get off on the wrong foot immediately.”

You heart rate speeds up when he says that he likes you. “Sorry I’m so distracting,” you offer lamely.

“Don’t be, muñequita.” He places another chaste kiss upon your lips before spinning you around and urging you towards the door. You let him guide you with ease. “We’ll continue this later, but I’ve got to get ready. Thank you for indulging me.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, grinning over your shoulder at him. “To be continued.”

“Si, mi hermosa.”

With that, you’re out in the hallway once more as the door closes behind you. You lean back against it with your head tilted up at the ceiling and your eyes closed, replaying the kiss you just shared with your celebrity crush. Once again everything feels both completely unreal and entirely tangible at the same time. A giddy grin spreads across your face as you giggle to yourself, fingers lightly grazing your still tingling lips. And then the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls you back to reality.

The attendant is still there, having waited to escort you back to your seat. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow for a moment before he turns on his heel to begin walking back to the auditorium. Fucking really? Again? Oh well, you think with another giggle as you follow him.

Pulling out your phone, you send a quick update to Henry in the form of a single lipstick stain emoji and five exclamation points. You receive a colorful response almost immediately, making you snort a little as you type out, “I am not a skank! ...not yet at least,” in response.

The rest of the show goes off without a hitch. Dieter’s performance in the final scene brings tears to your eyes once again. It has nothing to do with the attraction you feel towards him. You’re completely in awe of him on a professional level. Regardless of the messy reputation he’s been trying to move away from, at the end of the day Dieter Bravo is still a really great actor. Phenomenal, even.

After the standing ovation and the curtain call, during which Dieter winks down at you just as he lifts up from bowing and your heart skips a beat, everyone in the auditorium starts to vacate. Some people outright leave, others go to the bar for one more drink to mingle and discuss the show. Dieter had told you to stay put, and you never did get that second gin and tonic during intermission so you make your way through the crowds on a quest for your favorite drink.

Once at the lavish bar with your order placed, you lean against the elegant mahogany and truly take in your surroundings. It feels odd to be in a beautiful room full of well dressed strangers as they argue the finer points of William Shakespeare’s works. You over hear a couple of people praising Dieter, one person saying that he was “just fine, nothing spectacular”, and you find the concept of difference of opinion very interesting as you quietly hone in your eavesdropping skills.

Just as the bar tender is sliding your drink over, the small crowd of people begin clapping and cheering. You look up to see Dieter and some of the other actors from the show enter the bar, dressed in normal clothes once again. Even though he’s forced to smile and shake hands with a few random people along the way, he seems to notice you almost immediately. A wicked grin crosses his features as he tries his best to make a beeline for you.

“So you’re a gin and tonic girl?” Dieter asks as he finally approaches the bar, and you’re aware of many eyes on you.

“Uh huh,” you nod, talking through a plastered on smile, “I feel so fucking awkward right now with these people looking at me wondering why you’re talking to me.”

“Fuck these people,” whispering, he grins again almost devilishly, “so are you coming back to my place?”

You nod again, “Yes, please. If you'll still have me.”

“Fantastic,” he leans over the bar to whisper even lower, careful not to get too close with prying eyes all around. He orders a drink, just a seltzer with lime oddly enough, making it look like he’s idly chatting with you as he waits. “Here’s the plan: I have to mingle for a minute and sign a few autographs, but then I can make my escape. Drink your drink and wait about fifteen minutes, then leave out the front and go two blocks to the left then one to the right. There's a news stand on that corner. Wait for me there.”

“Copy that,” you agree, grinning as you take a sip. “Bravo by the way, Bravo. The play was great. You were great. I mean it.”

“Thanks, muñequita.” He chuckles, smiling almost bashfully. The smile accentuates all of the best things about his features, leaving him looking like a work of art. It’s insane that a man a almost twenty years older than you is so youthful to you. Youthful and so very beautiful. The concept shouldn’t work yet somehow it does. He’s so pretty. And by some stroke of fate he's interested in you.

So you execute this plan, waiting the agreed upon fifteen minutes as he fucks off to go mingle. You make quick work of running for one last trip to the bathroom, collecting your jacket, and leaving the theater all together. Stepping out into the chilly night, you walk two blocks to the left and one to the right just as he instructed. The news stand is there just as he said, but it's locked up for the night. It’s cold as hell and you really wish that you’d thought better of it when you left Queens. Holding yourself, you bounce from foot to foot trying to stay warm as you watch your breath form in front of your face. It’s only autumn and you’re from a few states further south, so you hadn’t considered how chilly the night would be.

“Hey, weirdo,” a voice appears from behind you after a long while. You turn to see Dieter standing there, a shy little smile playing at his lips and his hands shoved in his pockets. He’s wearing the black pea coat you’d seen him in earlier that afternoon, but the sunglasses have been replaced with a gray scarf and hat that he did not have before.

“Hey, crush,” you respond, attempting to grin at him through lightly chattering teeth.

He frowns, “Is that all you have to wear?”

“Yeah,” you pout, “I didn’t think this through. I was too worried about looking cute.”

“Well you succeeded, but you’ve got to dress warmer than that in this town.” He shakes his head, chuckling as he slowly unravels the dark gray scarf from himself. Stepping forward, he delicately drapes the warm thing around your neck, wrapping it around a few times so that you can bury the lower half of your face in its warmth if you feel the need to. You nearly moan as you inhale the scent of it, the scent of him. It’s intoxicating, carrying notes of tobacco, weed, and expensive cologne. You could breathe this in forever and never need real oxygen ever again.

“Your scarf smells really fucking good,” you mumble into the fabric, taking an obvious sniff. That second gin and tonic must have lowered your inhibitions slightly.

“You look really fucking cute in my scarf,” he says, pulling his coat together at the neck to try and shield himself from the fresh blasts of cold in that particular area. “What do you say we go watch that movie?”

“Let’s go,” agreeing, you nod forward as if to tell Dieter you want him to lead the way. He surprises you by extending an elbow so that you can grab hold of his arm while you walk beside each other. “How far is your place?”

*****

Dieter loves the feeling of your arm sliding into his, pulling you in close as he begins walking towards the apartment. Your hand grazes his for a moment, and when he feels how cold your flesh is to the touch he shakes his head with a chuckle. Working his fingers into yours, Dieter takes your hand in his before shoving both into the large pocket of his coat. Even though it’s cold to the point of being uncomfortable, he relishes in the feeling of your smaller hand in his.

“Not too far. Rented close to the theater so I could just walk to work.”

You snuggle into him after a little gust of wind causes you to shiver, burying your face into his scarf. Dieter is beside himself as you inhale deeply once again, looking up at him with a little grin. “Fuck, this thing smells so damn good. You smell so good.”

He's sure he's blushing from that.

Soon enough he’s guiding you into the entrance of the swanky apartment building lobby, explaining to the doorman that you’re his guest on the way towards the elevator. Once in the elevator, he hits the button for his floor and watches as you adjust to the warmth of the building’s heating system. You shake your arms out, leaning back against the hand rail.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think to wear a better coat," you say.

“You may have suffered, but you do look fucking incredible in that outfit.” Dieter smirks down at you, one hand on the mirrored wall you’re pressed against as he looms over. He enjoys the way you squirm under his gaze. “Tell me, muñequita, did you get all dressed up like this to impress me? Did your hair and make up all nice even though we both know you don’t need any of that fucking shit?”

You blush, avoiding his gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes again. He’s already leaning forward and you’re already lifting up to meet him halfway. “I might have,” you say lowly with a little smirk playing at your lips. “Maybe I like getting dressed up, and maybe I wanted to make sure that you knew I wasn’t fucking around with my intentions here.”

Just as his lips are about to make contact with yours, the elevator stops and the door opens. His head jerks up just in time to see a neighbor standing there waiting for their turn in the metal contraption. Clearing his throat, Dieter gestures for you to exit the elevator with him and the two of you awkwardly shuffle past the stranger. You’re stifling giggles and he lightly slaps you on the ass, no more than a tap really, as he chuckles.

Dieter’s apartment is right down the hall to the left. Unlocking the door, he allows you entry first and steps in behind you as he repositions the bolt to locked once more while also locking the chain. When he turns you’re standing there in the foyer a literal fucking vision, looking up at him with big doe eyes. He can tell that you’re a little nervous now that you’re actually in his home, but the awkwardness only serves to enhance how adorable you are to him. Dressed up in a sexy fucking black dress but with an almost timid energy is such a wild contrast.

“So, I want to take a shower before we settle in for the movie,” he says, “you’re welcome to borrow a sweater if you want something warm to change into.”

“I appreciate that. I could use to get cozy.”

Your cheeks flush, and he resists the urge to kiss you once more. Not yet. Earlier had been way too impulsive, like the old Dieter, and he wants the next time he kisses you to feel perfect. He likes you a lot. It makes him want to do right by you in a way that he's never been compelled to in the past. Not even with Anika, who he thought he loved a great deal at the time.

Dieter takes you through the decently sized apartment, noticing fondly how you’re slowly taking in your surroundings as he does so. He enters the bedroom, gesturing to the king sized bed with dark trimmings as he moves over to the huge closet and flings it open. Rifling through the selection, he plucks out a heavy eggplant purple sweater. Then he moves over to a dresser, where he pulls out a pair of black boxer briefs.

He looks you up and down, savoring every inch of your body in the black dress one more time before he offers you the warmer clothes. “Here, you can change into this if you want to. Feel free to make yourself comfortable while I’m getting cleaned up. I won’t be very long.”

*****

You watch as he lays the clothing down on the bed before moving for the attached bathroom. He shuts himself in with a little smirk on his face and you can hear the water begin to run, followed by the pleasant sound of Dieter humming to himself. The sound of it brings a smirk of your own to your lips.

Pulling out your phone, you quickly inform Henry that you’re at Dieter’s and you’re safe. Then you shrug off the leather jacket, sitting on the edge of the bed to undo your combat boots and kick them off. Standing while simultaneously unzipping yourself, you begin stripping down to your underwear. The nature of the gown’s neckline made it so that you’d foregone a bra tonight, so for a brief moment you’re standing in Dieter Bravo’s bedroom in nothing but socks, a pair of panties, and jewelry.

After admiring yourself in the large full-length mirror next to the closet, you move to grab his big purple sweater. The soft knitted garment slides over your head with ease, falling to just below your hips. You take the pair of boxer briefs, slipping them on like a pair of bike shorts. Your plump ass is almost too big to fit his size and you’re thinking endlessly about the fact that his dick was once nestled in this very fabric, but you manage to make it work.

Looking around the room, you try to get a vibe for what Dieter’s private life must look like. You’re happy to see that he’s still painting, having noticed a messy room full of canvases next to this mostly tidy bedroom. He’s got a living room and kitchen, obviously. It’s definitely bigger and far more modern than the apartment you share with Henry in Queens, but its not as extravagant as you’d expected it to be. He’s got a few things on the walls of the sleekly styled bedroom. Various dark atheistic art pieces, a vintage movie poster for some Italian horror film you’ve heard of but never seen, and a few framed Queens of The Stone Age vinyl's. He’d told you in the coffee shop that they’re his favorite band, and he wasn’t kidding. Not only is his tase in film similar to yours, his taste in music seems to be as well.

When your eyes land on the golden statue situated on a nearby shelf, said eyes nearly fall right out of your head. It's a shape you know well. An academy award, an Oscar. There are a few other awards on the same shelf. A Golden Globe, a few Emmys, and some you don't recognize. But the Oscar? Holy. Shit. That one is special for a multitude of reasons. You remember the night that Dieter won that Oscar so fondly, given that you and your parents would sit down to watch the award ceremony live every single year. Once you were old enough to appreciate film the way that you do now, the three of you would try and see every singe film that was nominated. That way, when the big night finally came, you could have your opinions and make your guesses with the confidence of someone who had seen the films. You used to look at your parents with complete confidence and tell them you plan to be there one day. That one way or another they'd go to watch and see you on the red carpet. Hopefully a dream that can still be achieved.

You'd been in high school when Dieter won his. The crush you have on him was already in full swing at this point. You'd begged your parents to go see his film opening weekend, and when the news of his best actor nomination came out you were over the moon for him. After having watched his career evolve from b-movie horror flicks to big studio films, you told your mother and father that he deserved it more than anyone. Your father had knowingly told you that maybe your little crush was clouding your judgment, so of course you'd rubbed it in his face when Dieter won.

Smiling to yourself, you can recall the way your stomach flipped and your heart swelled at the sight of him on the red carpet. He'd been dressed to the nines, with perfect skin and perfect hair. The biggest take away you have always kept with you from that night was how utterly grateful Dieter Bravo seemed to be there. Like he didn't quite believe that he deserved the recognition at all. It was bashful in a way that feels akin to how bashful he's been acting around you all night. The same kind of energy.

Thinking of the shock on a younger Dieter's face when the presenter opened the envelope and read his name to the audience, and the tears in his eyes as he climbed the stairs to the stage to make his acceptance speech, you're reminded of the fact that this must have been one of the biggest moments in his life. You'd watched him hold his Oscar with such fondness that night, and now that exact same statue is not three feet from your face. Involuntary movements cause your arm to reach out, and two of your fingers lightly caress the smooth surface. You desperately want to know how heavy it feels in your hands, but you don't dare try to remove it from its perch. God forbid you break the damn thing.

Dieter told you to get comfortable so you move to climb onto the bed, laying on your stomach at the foot of it. It’s so fucking luxurious that you nearly moan, pressing yourself into the pleasant material. A laugh bubbles up your throat as you realize that your parents are going to lose their minds when they eventually find out about this evening. Given that they had to hear Dieter's name dozens of times when you were a teenager, this is going to come as a wild shock.

Soon the shower cuts off and you hear him rummaging around in there. Then the door opens and Dieter reappears wearing an olive green bathrobe. His sopping wet hair looks two shades darker, falling around his head in a way that makes him look so adorable as he smiles over at you. His naturally tan skin is slightly reddish, indicating that the water of his shower had been hot.

“Mm,” he hums, “wearing my clothes in and lying my bed is a good look for you, muñequita. Better than that dress, even.”

You smile up at him, rolling onto your back as you stretch out. The littlest bit of tummy peaks out when the sweater rides up, and Dieter’s facial expression changes for the briefest of moments as he blatantly stares at the area of exposed flesh. You wonder if he’s going to try and make a move while he’s already mostly naked, but he quietly grabs himself a T-shirt and sweatpants before heading back into the bathroom without saying a word. You can’t decide if you’re disappointed or not. When he comes out again fully dressed, smelling of tea tree oil and hair fixed slightly with product, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed to stand next to him.

Bashfully gesturing for you to follow, he takes you out to the living room where a large couch and even larger TV are waiting to be used for their intended purpose. “Grab a blanket from that basket and make yourself at home,” he says in a friendly manner, moving to a bookshelf imbedded into the wall itself. There he plucks a horizontally placed book-the only one like this-off the second shelf down from the top. Coming to sit beside where you’re doing exactly what you’d been told, he sets the book down on the coffee table before grabbing the remotes to get the TV set up.

You lean forward, peering at the book for not even a millisecond before you realize that it looks like a beat up copy of Stephen King’s IT in hardcover. But its clearly not a real book. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a wooden box made to look like a book.

“What’s with IT?” You ask, left eye brow raised as you point to it.

“That’s one of my favorite books, scared the shit out of me as a young man,” he explains enthusiastically. “I take it the weirdo is a fan?”

“Oh hell yeah,” you’re also full of enthusiasm, similar to when you gushed about Fright Night to him at the coffee shop. “It’s indisputably King’s masterpiece! I’ve read it three times. But I meant what’s up with the fake copy.”

Dieter smirks at you, leaning forward to flick the thing open with an index finger. “This, muñequita, is my stash box. I’ve had this thing since college. It’s been with me through all kinds of crazy shit in my dumb life.”

Inside is a small row of four perfectly rolled joints all lined up together with a lighter and a small ashtray. You look down at the nice little set up, realizing that the act of smoking must be somewhat of a ritual for Dieter Bravo. Much like how you view your own use of weed in your daily life. It’s endearing to see that the two of you relate in that way. You’re also relieved to see that there isn’t anything harder than marijuana in the box.

“Love the set up,” you bump your shoulder into his, “and I love that you’re a weed guy. I never make any friends with the same sensibilities when it comes to smoking.”

Dieter’s face contorts for a second, morphing into something akin to uncomfortable. “Well, it’s the one vice I really allow myself these days besides cigarettes. Don’t really even drink much anymore. Before my last stint in rehab, I nearly died. Again. And then I lost everything. Got dropped by my old agent, then Anika left me. Ended up getting passed over for a role I felt really passionate about and the actor who did get the gig is probably going to be up for an Oscar this year. Some family stopped taking my calls. I didn’t know what real rock bottom felt like until all that shit happened. What a fucking wake up call. That was a little over a year ago. If it wasn’t for my sister helping me out I’d probably be dead right now.”

You’d read a headline last year about how Dieter was in rehab again, but you had no idea how bad things had actually been for him. Reaching a hand out, you tentatively stroke the inside of his wrist with a few fingertips. “Fuck, Dieter. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Please don’t be. I did it to myself. I let the pressure of Hollywood kill the little kid in me who just wanted to make movies like the ones I would go see with my family in the 80s. I’ve always had an addictive personality, and once you become famous it’s incredibly easy to get the worst kinds of drugs and fuck the worst kinds of people and do the dumbest kind of shit. That’s why I’m back in New York for the foreseeable future. I needed a break from LA and all the bullshit that comes with it.”

“Do you worry that smoking is going to make you relapse, though?” You ask, hoping you don’t sound judgmental. He’s opening up to you a lot, and you’d rather not scare him off. “Also I’m sorry for speaking so fondly of doing mushrooms at the coffee shop earlier today and for drinking at the show, if that was triggering at all.”

“Nah. I barely smoked weed like this before now. My thing was always coke and LSD and anything else like that I could get my hands on. Hard shit. Chemical shit. My doctor actually prescribed a medical card because smoking helps chill me out and relax when I feel like the pressure is getting too strong again and a real craving is starting to hit me. And no worries about the mushrooms or the drinks. I’ll never touch that chemically altered shit ever again, but if it grows from the Earth it’s alright by me. I’m also in therapy, so that’s helping a lot. I feel like I got a second lease on life, and I’m trying really hard not to fuck things up this time.”

“That’s really admirable, Dieter. Everyone makes mistakes but not everyone has the will power to grow from them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, “Yeah. I still hate myself most of the time, though.”

“I can relate to that. I used to have a real problem with self hatred. Mine just manifested in a different way.”

He’s being vulnerable with you, almost a silent permission for you to be vulnerable as well, so you slide up the oversized sleeve of his sweater to show him your left forearm. The colorful, horror themed tattoo that sprawls across your flesh does a good job of covering up what’s underneath at first glance, but if someone is really looking the raised scars beneath the ink are clearly there.

Dieter looks down at it for a long moment before his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. He reaches out, hovering fingers just above your skin as he silently waits for you to allow this. You nod, swallowing, and the tips of his index and middle fingers graze lightly over the surface of scar tissue. His touch leaves a tingling sensation in it’s wake. He frowns then, looking into your eyes once more as his hand lightly encircles your wrist. “I don’t like that you used to hurt yourself.”

You reach out, brushing a damp curl from his forehead as you look his face over with a frown of your own. “And I don’t like that you used hurt yourself. Seems like we’ve both dealt with a lot of pain in our lives.”

“Seems like it,” he agrees as a self conscious expression crosses his features. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to get so serious on you. You’re just so easy to talk to and I don’t have a lot of friends. Genuine ones, anyway.”

Smiling, you take his hand and squeeze it once before letting it drop. “It’s okay, really. I’m glad that you feel comfortable being honest with me.”

Dieter leans towards the coffee table, grabbing a joint from the box and placing it between his lips before moving to light it with the red bic lighter. He eyes you with a cheekily grin, waggling his eyebrows about. “You wanna split this?”

“Hell yes,” you agree, grinning as he hands the burning thing over to you.

As you smoke together, Dieter gets everything set up to watch Fright Night while the two of you continue to converse.

“So what was Dieter Bravo like as a young man?” You ask suddenly, eyeing him with a playfully narrowed gaze as you take your two puffs.

His eyes widen comically. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what was your style? What music were you into, what high school click were you a part of?”

“The nerds and the goths and the punks and the theater kids,” Dieter replies immediately, smiling fondly at you. “That character you had such as crush on as a pre-teen? That was pretty much me. I had the jet black hair, the piercings, the black trench coat. My favorite Depeche Mode and The Cure tapes were worn out in my first car. I thought I was a badass motherfucker, going to play practice to rehearse Guys and Dolls dressed like fucking early 90s Dracula.”

You gush, “I adore Dracula so you get points from me. Man, I wish I could have seen you in your young goth days. I bet it was adorable. Also, you were in Guys and Dolls? So was I, in middle school! But I had a super small background role. I was basically just in the chorus.”

He seems shocked by this, “What? How the hell weren’t you the lead?”

“I froze up in my audition just like I always did. I have no idea how you people can act. It’s so nerve wracking. I much prefer the storytelling aspect of the business.”

“Really? You think so? It's always been so natural for me.”

“Oh one hundred percent. I had one good experience in drama class with a monologue that I nailed and that was about it. You, on the other hand, you make it seem like the easiest thing in the world. God, watching you tonight was magical. I truly believed that you were another person up there. What is it you love about acting that makes it seem like a no brainer?”

He seems to mull this over for a moment, “That’s just it. I get to be someone else for a little bit. I’ve never liked myself very much so getting to be another person is so appealing to me. Why I always liked wearing costumes on Halloween. I forget that I’m Dieter and I become whoever it is I’m playing while the camera is rolling or its my queue to be on stage. I don’t worry about what the people watching me are thinking or feeling, because I’m temporarily living the life of another person who’s somewhere else doing something spectacular and those people spectating don’t even exist.”

“Wow, that answer was kind of incredible.”

He shrugs, looking shy again. “Just answering from the heart. That’s not what I would have said in an interview.”

You reach over and stroke his hand. “Well, thanks for talking to me like a real person.”

He pulls your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles once. “Thanks for treating me like a real person.”

After the joint is finished Dieter begins the movie. You honestly expect it to last all of twenty minutes, assuming (and hoping) that Dieter will eventually make a move that leads to the two of you making out and missing most of the film. He surprises you yet again, when he shows no interest in carrying on during the viewing. At one point, about a half hour in, Dieter tells you that you’re too far away and motions for you to come lean your body against him. You do, heart racing, and he drapes an arm around your shoulders. But that’s all he ever does.

Dieter Bravo is dead set on watching the movie he invited you over to watch. You aren’t disappointed, though. In fact, you’re thrilled that the movie hadn’t been a tactic to fuck you after all. He genuinely wanted to watch it and he genuinely wanted you to be a part of the experience. It endears him to you that much more.

When the nightclub sequence happens, your favorite part of the film, Dieter dances a little with you while seated. You laugh heartily when he says, “This is way hornier than I remember it being.” But he still doesn't make a move.

After the film’s conclusion, Dieter lights up another jay and checks the time. It’s late. “Would you like to sleep over?” He asks shyly, handing the joint over.

Taking a long drag, you nod your head before speaking through a small cloud with a sleepy little grin. “I’d love to sleep over, Dieter.”

The actor takes a long drag himself, grinning as he seems pleased with this. “You don’t have to sleep in the bed with me if you don’t want to, but you’re more than welcome to join me. Or you can have it and I can just fuck off here on the couch. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

“I’m comfortable here,” you smile warmly, amused by him. He looks so cute when he’s high like this, red eyes squinting as an almost gentle timidness takes over. “Are you trying to act like a gentleman, Dieter?”

“Kinda,” he agrees, eyebrows raising a little as he puffs on the joint twice more. “Part of me wants to be gentlemanly, and part of me wants to be honest and say I really want you in bed with me. That I want take you into that bedroom and show you what you fucking do to me.”

“I mean, I honestly wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

*****

And that’s how you find yourself positioned head down and ass up, hands tied behind your back with a designer neck tie from Dieter’s closet as the man himself fucks you relentlessly from behind. His cock, thick and lovely and torturous, sliding into you unprotected with such force and rhythm that your once tandem movements with his are now erratic and messy. You sound like a wild animal, feral noises escaping you as he presses his thumb against your exposed clit with the lightest amount of pressure.

“Come on, sweetheart," he coos, "I know you can get wetter than this for me.” Then he increases the pressure, and you start to moan deeply against the mattress to this sensation you adore so much. The most private of feelings in the most private of places, a pleasure you've only experienced with a handful of individuals. Somehow, someway, here you are experiencing it with the man you’ve crushed on for nearly two decades of your life.

Your legs begin to tremble as the pleasure budding in your core begins to fire up rapidly. “Oh fuck, D. Feels so fucking good when you touch me there.” You can’t see him (you can’t open your eyes is more like it) but you know he’s grinning down at you like a wild man. He’s sweating, and you imagine that his lovely hair is growing damper by the moment.

“Mm, dirty fucking girl likes her perfect little clit being played with? How’s it feel to have your celebrity crush touch you like this? Fucking that perfect little pussy at the same time? I bet this doesn't even feel real, does it?”

“So-gah-so fucking good,” you repeat the previous phrase, practically purring, and Dieter spanks you once. The right cheek to be exact. You cry out into the sheets bunched up in front of your face, wrists straining against the silky bonds behind your back. Your shoulders and neck are starting to give in a little but you’re also not ready to ask him to stop. This is heaven in every sense of the word.

“Oh, come on. You’re a smart fucking girl, I know you have better vocabulary in that pretty fucking head of yours. Nerdy fucking girl’s read IT three times, after all.” He spanks you again, the left cheek this time. You squeal, feeling the sting and loving every bit of it’s sharp sensation through your backside.

“My nerve endings are on fire,” you start, panting and grunting between words, “it feels like those Fourth of July sparklers are gently burning my skin all over. You now, the ones on long metal sticks that you wave around? Little prickles of heat are assaulting my senses all at once. I can't believe I'm here with you and you're making me feel this good. Fuck, I’m so close to cumming, Dieter, please.”

Dieter pumps into you even harder, slamming into your cervix and causing you to squeal from the combined pain and pleasure of it. Never once does it occur to you to ask him to stop as you whine and writhe with a huge, open mouthed smile plastered to your otherwise contorted face. Dieter begins to coo and soothe you, slowing his thrusts down slightly while removing his thumb. “Good girl. I knew you had something more eloquent to say. Oh, fuck, I can’t last much longer, muñequita.”

“I want to taste it,” your salacious voice pleads, bound hands reaching back for him.

“Fuck. Careful with what you say, you sound so fucking sexy and I can’t take it.” He pulls out of you then, gently guiding your body to lay on your side. Even though he’s been rough with you (at your request), you can tell he’s still displaying a level of responsibility as the one sort of in charge.

“Give it, D, please,” you plead more, mouth dropping open and tongue poking out expectantly when he turns his attention to you once more.

“Dirty fucking girl,” he hisses, his hips bucking as you suckle the tip of his length with a prominent swirl of the tongue. Eventually he’s grabbing your hair with a vulnerable sounding moan, pushing into your mouth as far as he can go while emptying himself down your throat. You eagerly take every bit, adoring how his body relaxes so completely against you. For a moment it seems as if Dieter is trying to savor the feeling of your lips wrapped around him, but then suddenly he’s pulling out and your hands are being untied. “Your turn, mi hermosa muñequita,” he growls, flipping you onto your back as he lays across the bed, positioning his head between your parted thighs.

And so you writhe and squirm and shake, mouth spewing wickedly dirty things as Dieter’s expert tongue works you over. Every touch, every whisper of breath against your flesh is both electrified and amplified. Feeling his mustache tickle your swollen nub, the vibrations of his chuckles when he knowingly backs off at the cusp of your orgasm and you groan in frustration at him. It’s torture in the best possible sense of the word, leaving you feeling like you’re willing to do just about anything in order to spend the rest of your life fucking Dieter Bravo and letting him fuck you.

After awhile he adds a few fingers, filling you up to simultaneously stimulate the internal nerve endings that were feeling neglected within your warmth. The addition of these sensations is enough to finally send you over the edge and this time he allows it to happen, gripping onto your trembling legs as he bares down on your clit with repetitive swirls. Sparks begin to build within your core, soon cresting over the edge as pure hormonal pleasure takes hold of your body in an intense orgasm.

Coming down from the natural high of sex, you’re aware of Dieter climbing to the top of the bed so that he can lay beside you. Little kisses being peppered up your torso until they reach your mouth, deepening only slightly for a moment before the slick lips are gone again. Everything that just happened feels like an insane fever dream for a few moments until his voice brings you back to the present. In the afterglow of the connection you just shared with him, he looks fucking radiant.

“I think you and I should just do this forever. That was too fucking good for this to be a one time thing.” He says, looking you over with a hopeful look in his eye and a lazy little smile on his plump lips.

You giggle, rolling onto your belly as you nudge him with your nose upon his shoulder. “Yeah? Like once a week we get together and bang until we're too old to fuck?”

Chuckling, he grins down at you with a genuine air about him, moving hair from your face while looking into your eyes. “I mean, that sounds like a good arrangement to me. More than once a week is also acceptable.”

“I think you’ve got yourself a bargain,” you laugh, a great yawn escaping your lips afterward. “Mm. Get under the covers with me so we can sleep and then maybe do this again when we get up in the morning.”

“Oh shit a wake and fuck?” Dieter makes a silly face, drawing out the ‘i’ in shit for a few seconds while he makes quick work of getting the blankets pulled up over the both of you.

“A wake and bake and fuck,” you correct him with a little cheeky grin as you wiggle yourself under the warm bed coverings.

Morning comes, and so do the two of you. Once before a shower, once in the shower, twice just after breakfast. You’re not sure your ovaries can take much more of it. You’re certainly going to be walking funny back to Queens, that’s for sure. Breakfast is absolutely amazing. Dieter surprises you by whipping up some crepes from scratch. His ability is impressive, even more so when they turn out to be delicious. Banana, strawberry, Nutella. The man goes all out, even sprinkling on some powdered sugar. The fact that he can cook and likes to cook is such a plus.

You're not sure what's going to happen from here, but you take comfort in the way he acts as if he has to be torn away from you later to head to the theater. The goodbye you share doesn't feel like goodbye forever, and for now that's enough.

*****

It’s Friday morning, just a few days after the night of your life spent with Dieter Bravo. You haven’t messaged him for fear of coming off too needy or creepy, and for reasons unknown he hasn’t messaged you either. It’s disappointing, but the fact that you even slept with him at all is a miracle in it of itself. You’re trying to just count your blessings that it even happened and not feel too terrible about the fact that nothing more has come of it. Propped up in bed with your lap top and a cup of coffee, you’re trying desperately not to think about him as you focus on the task at hand.

Then your phone rings with a FaceTime call. Odd, you haven’t set up a time to talk to your little sister today and she’s the only person who uses FaceTime to call you. Plus, it’s only just after 10 am and you’re currently working on the clerical work you do part time from home, so she knows not to bug you unless its an emergency. Curious, you lean over from your fold out bed-top desk to look at the incoming call and a huge grin spreads across your features. With a fluttering in your stomach, you grab the device and answer.

Dieter Bravo’s face appears on the screen, grinning brightly at you. “Hey, weirdo,” he says, sounding happy as a clam while squinting into the phone. He’s outside somewhere with trees, Central Park you’d imagine, and you can tell that there’s a bit of a glare. But he’s not wearing sunglasses, instead the pair you’ve seen him with before is nestled in his mane of wild brown hair. The gesture comes off as if he purposefully wanted you to see his eyes, even if he can barely open them.

“Hey crush,” you respond, thrilled that he decided to call you first. “What’s up?”

Dieter looks almost bashful for a moment. “Just wanted to see your face. Picture wasn’t good enough, I needed to see that pretty fucking smile of yours in real time. I’ve been wanting to talk to you since the minute you left my place the other day, but I figured it was best to give you space. Didn’t wanna bombard you or make you uncomfortable.”

You smile even more brightly for him. “You know, I’ve been doing the same exact thing. It’s been killing me not to text you but I didn’t want to come off as needy. Is it weird that I miss you? I know it’s been less than two days but I really haven’t stopped thinking about you, D. I miss feeling your presence.”

“Same here, sweetheart. You’ve taken over my fucking brain.”

“When can I see you in person again?”

“There’s a performance tonight… but if you want to you could come over now and just hang out around the house until I get back? You could use your lunch break to get here and then finish working. Plus you’re more than welcome to watch my movies and eat my food.”

“I think I could be persuaded,” you say, smirking as you lay across the bed, holding the phone out as you do so. “Tomorrow’s the weekend and I don’t have any work to do on that indie project yet so I’m free for the next two days. I could cook something for the both of us to have when you get back tonight.”

“You wanna cook for me, muñequita?”

“Yeah,” you admit, “I wanna do something nice for you.”

“Wanting to hang out with my old, dumb ass again is more than enough,” he says, avoiding your gaze. He’s acting so shy. Its driving you wild to see that you have such an effect on a man you’ve lusted after for most of your post-pubescent life. You smile warmly at him, not willing to give in to his obvious trepidation. “Hey, please look at me?”

“M’sorry,” he mumbles, trying to hide the infectious smile pulling at the edges of his gorgeous mouth. The sun must have dipped behind some clouds, because he’s not squinting as harshly anymore. You can see more of his deep brown eyes as they bore into you through the seven inch screen in your hand. “You just do something to me that I’m not quite used to,” he adds, “it can be kinda overwhelming.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, “you don’t need to be sorry. I just want to see you looking at me while I say this.” Dieter nods, seeming to be genuinely looking at you, so you go on, “I like you. I mean, I really like you. One of my favorite ways of showing affection for people I like is through the act of feeding them delicious food, and I’d love to show you some affection if that’s alright with you, Dieter.”

His face softens considerably, as if what you just said has struck him in some significant kind of way. “That’s alright with me, yeah. I like you too, weirdo. Like, a lot.”

Stomach summersaulting within your abdomen, your face heats up as an uncontrollable little giggle escapes your throat. Your celebrity crush just said he likes you a lot. Christ, this cannot actually be real. There’s simply no way. “Well now that that’s out in the open, my handsome celebrity crush who likes me a lot, I’m going to pack a bag and hop on the train. Are you in Central?”

“Yeah, but I’ll start heading home soon to meet you there. If you want, feel free to pack a bag for more than one night. I don’t have a show on Sunday, we could make a day of it. Maybe go to a museum or something.”

“I’d love that, Dieter. Seriously.” You're absolutely beaming.

“Me too, muñequita. Now go get that thick little ass of yours moving so I can grip it in my hands while I fuck you up against my bedroom wall before work.”

*****

Part 1

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #the bubble #pedro pascal characters #din djarin #pedro pascal character x reader #the bubble 2022

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kenyaru · 7 months ago

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STILL HURTS | 01

SO THIS IS HEARTBREAK..

synopsis | maximilian goof has made one of the most goofy decisions ever: he forgave bradley uppercrust. he sat there, accepted his apologies after getting kicked out of the Gammas and actually became friends with him, trusting that he would have change and to not hold a grudge, just like his dad said. albeit against his best friends' wishes, he and uppercrust got closer, and eventually a somewhat-friendship turned into a romance. but, a year or so later, bradley did the unthinkable, leading to their breakup. was he wrong to trust? genre | angst, heartbreak, making up(?), oneshot pairing | max goofy x bradley uppercrust iii (maxley) warnings | implied internalized homophobia, mild cursing, angsty word count | 1.76k author's note | hii! i finally posted part 1 of this fic! this is heavily inspired by 'a seriously goofy romance' by pidge030 on ao3. this is my first time writing with these characters that already have some spitefulness, so i hope you enjoy it! lmk if you would like a part 2 :> ______________________________________________________________

One month. It’s been exactly one month since he and Bradley broke up. One month since their huge argument had caused him to walk out on the other and only a few weeks since Bradley had tried to contact him and soon stopped all together. Max hated to admit it, but he regretted how he acted, but how could he not react badly? Max sat up in bed, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. He was just trying to relax after a long day of classes, but Bradley’s words clouded his mind. I can’t believe you- cheating on me..I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, Goof.

It was the audacity in Bradley’s mind to accuse Max for something like that, knowing that Max had liked, and had come to love, Bradley more than ever. He felt more for Bradley than he felt for anyone; the way he got butterflies when the others bought him flowers or would compliment him in his own sort-of rude way. He recalled Bradley mentioning him talking to some girl in a way that seemed flirtatious and he responded by saying that Bradely had his assumptions; that he used Max’s sexuality against him.

Maybe Bobby and P.J. were right to be skeptical. When Bradely got kicked out of the Gammas and was trying to make amends, his best friends were the first people on the hate-train, not wanting to forgive the brunette. Max, still in his own feelings, reluctantly decided to let him in. Some advice his father gave him was to not hold a grudge and try to see past the mistake. At some point, Bradley had been interested in Max joining them, even if it was just to win.

One thing led to another and they went from close friends to a couple. Well, until now.

Max checked his clock, noticing it was nearly 6 and decided to go for a skate to calm himself before going to eat dinner. Bobby and P.J. were at the Bean Scene last he remembered, but that was over an hour ago, before he got into his funk over Bradely. He had blocked the brunette’s number after the first few messages, not wanting to hear his pitiful apologies.

Even though he seemed angry and not affected, he still cried some nights, he still felt the pain in his chest, he still looked at the photos he and Bradely took during their year of being together. He was a junior in college now, he shouldn’t be held up by some guy that graduated already. He fortunately unfortunately still got to see Bradely on campus as he was studying for his PhD and was working in the library sometimes for whatever reason he mentioned; Max must have been too angry to remember.

Max physically shook his head, putting on his shoes and adjusted his sweatshirt, picking up his skateboard and walking out of his dorm room. He wasn’t going to think about Bradely anymore, fill his head with memories and feelings he wanted to forget. He headed for the skating area, skating past the empty roads on campus. Hm, maybe everyone was at the Bean Scene right now, which most likely meant Bradely too.

Once he got there, Max went to the ramp and skated down, doing a trick and feeling the cool breeze on him as he moved quickly on the board. He missed this feeling, this carefreeness that he lacked in the past few weeks, few days even. He felt so congested, like his life was missing something. Skating was something he enjoyed before Bradely, so he thought it wouldn’t hurt as much, yet skating did remind him of how they met, how they got to dating in the first place, how they learned to work together and move past their previous disagreements that made them ‘enemies.’

Max continued to do tricks, flipping the board mid-air and landing, focused on what was ahead instead of the board itself, forcing himself to not get caught up in his thoughts and accidentally fall. He was doing good, so good, until he looked over, and caught a glimpse of brunette hair. Before he knew it, he was stumbling and before he could catch himself, he was on the ground in the middle of the skating rink.

He looked up, only to see a completely different person walking past the rink, looking over for just a moment before continuing their walk. He sighed, putting his head against the concrete. He panicked because he thought it was Bradely, because he thought it was the one person he didn’t- well, maybe he did, want to see. He was royally fucked up.

—------

Back in the dorms, Max laid back on his bed, phone in hand as he scrolled through his social media, going to Bradley’s profile on instinct and seeing that he hadn’t made any new posts since the breakup. Everything was still up; the pictures of them on their first date, the X-Games from that year and pictures of himself and the group. He closed the app, opening up the messaging app and seeing Bradely’s as a pin. Though he blocked him, he never removed him from his pins. He shouldn’t be reminiscing, looking back at these messages, possibly putting himself in a deeper funk. But he couldn’t stop himself, he wanted to, he missed him.

He opened his messages with Bradely and finally saw the stream of texts that he had ignored when it was first sent. Angel? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse you. Can we please talk? Please, let me explain. Call me back. Max, please. I love you, I feel terrible. I get it, you need space.

Max repeated the last message in his head, practically hearing Bradley's voice, the imagination making his heart break. Angel was what Bradely had begun calling him, stating the reason was that when he first saw him on a skateboard, he saw an Angel in Max. Max hated that he couldn’t be mad anymore, that even though it still hurt like hell to be accused like that, his feelings for the other had overridden that. Maybe it was time for him to step up, stop hiding and speak to him again. Clearly, Bradely still cares or he wouldn’t have spammed him for a week.

He checked the time, noting it was a bit past 8:30 now. Had he really sat there for nearly half an hour staring at some messages? He sighed and unblocked the number, hesitating on how to start the message. Should he be apologetic or upfront? Should he even be doing this at all? His thoughts were interrupted when P.J. and Bobby entered the dorm, making him flinch and nearly drop his phone.

“You still in here all depressed, man?” Bobby asked, kicking off his sneakers and climbing onto the top bunk.

“Ha, ha, very funny. I’m doing just fine, actually.” Max retaliated, sitting up and putting his phone to the side.

“Really? ‘Cause your face tells a different story, like you were contemplating life or death just now or something.” P.J. adds, sitting down on the bottom bunk and taking off his own shoes. “If this is about Bradley, we told you to just talk to him about it. You know he would never hurt you intentionally. That dude loves you.”

Max sighed, taking in what was said by his friends. They were right; in the year or so that he had been dating Bradely, he had always been clinged onto him, praising him and striving to be the best versions of themselves together. Though they had a rough start, it was clear that Bradley’s attraction towards him was real. He ran a hand through his hair, considering it. “Alright, maybe I will..soon.” Max picked up his phone, looking at Bradley’s contact again, the picture of them staring back at him. Bradleys toothless small smile compared to his wide grin. “Nuh-uh, not soon, tomorrow. The more you hold off, the more you’re going to procrastinate and the cycle will start all over again.” Bobby urged, pointing down at Max assertively. “Whatever you’re about to do, do it. Let him know you’re still into him- you are still into him, right?”

Max nodded, returning the look at Bobby. “Of course I am..I can’t stop thinking about him.” “Okay, so put on your big boy pants and let him know!” Bobby exclaimed, encouraging the other.

“Bobby’s right, if you want him back, and to get on good terms, you need to accept his calling.” P.J. added, already laying down as the conversation continued. Max opened up the chat again and started typing, letting his hands do the work as he typed out whatever came to his mind that he thought would be appropriate.

Hey, you were right. I needed some space. I’m ready to talk if you’re ready to explain. Max let out a sigh of relief as he sent the message, putting his phone on the nightstand as he laid down, anxiously waiting for a reply. He looked back up to see what the others had to say, but he saw both Bobby and P.J. already asleep. They were out all night and didn’t really sign up to be his therapists on the situation, so they had no reason to really stay awake for this.

Within a few minutes of staring at his ceiling, moments from falling asleep, his phone pinged. Max quickly took his phone and saw the incoming message from Bradley. Alright. Meet me at the Bean Scene, 6am tomorrow. It’s usually empty at that time, so we can talk then.

Max felt his heart thump in his chest, both of worry and excitement. He would be seeing Bradely again, be in his presence and see him face to face for the first time in what felt like forever. He sent a thumbs up emoji before putting his phone on the charger and getting up. He nearly forgot he had on his outdoor clothes, unlike his friends. He chuckled softly to himself and quickly headed to the bathroom to change into some pajamas before returning.

Once back in bed, Max got comfortable in his covers and rested his head on the cool pillow. He closed his eyes, trying to relax and fall asleep. Tomorrow, he will be seeing his love again. Tomorrow they were going to talk it out and hopefully he would get the closure he would need. Was he even ready to forgive as much as he convinced himself he was? Fuck, he was so scared for tomorrow.

______________________________________________________________

#maxley #max goof #bradley uppercrust iii #pls see this #fanfic #an extremely goofy movie #angst

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/740284683556929536/

Omg I'm so sorry! I wrote that anon when I was sleepy so it had very ham-fisted wording. Yes, I meant to ask about portraying self-esteem issues about bodies. I thought guys don't talk about it much.

To that one person, why would dudes comparing dick sizes be considered smut? I can see it being rated M. Are you suggesting the rating go up to E?

Ahahaha.

Uh... anon... if that's truly what you were trying to ask... I think maybe you need to work on your writing a bit more. The vibes you give off are odd, to say the least...

Like, creepy pervert angling for foot fetish photos while lying about what they want-level weird.

It sounds like you want to heavy-breathe while reading guys' descriptions of their own penises, not like you want help with writing.

The reason your ask reads so "She breasted boobily down the stairs" but from the other side is that guys, at least from what I've seen, do not stand around comparing their dicks, at least not in the way you implied.

The people who most commonly compare their junk out of curiosity are toddlers.

This is something tiny children do. Anecdotally, some teens do it, but a lot don't, and there are clickbait articles about athletes sizing each other up this way, but they are just that: clickbait. I'm not saying it never happens, but you wrote about it like it always happens.

It is fucking weird to have a grown-ass man routinely doing it outside of maaaaybe some weirdly homoerotic scene in a stoner comedy or something.

People joke about this practice because it's a thing that exists, not because it is ubiquitous.

That's also why it reads like porn. IRL, if some dude is like "I think we should compare our dicks... uh... and they should be hard so we can compare properly", many other guys are going to interpret that as sexual. And also self-deluding. Which is a good reason to say no.

Most people in locker rooms and public bathrooms try to give each other a little privacy if they can, regardless of gender. Openly ogling is what you do if you're about to proposition someone for sex. Or, if it's hostile, you stare because you're about to beat them up.

I'm not saying a guy couldn't sneakily see the size of another guy's junk and have a response, but the whole way you described this sounds like you've never spoken to a human before. Did you seriously get this idea from those clickbait articles?

Among other issues, penises become erect. They look different in different states of arousal. Surely, you've heard of "growers vs. showers"? Temperature also matters. There's a whole fucking bit on Seinfeld that everyone quoted for like years and is probably still quoting about "shrinkage"—i.e. a guy is insecure that someone saw him when he'd just gotten out of the pool and his dick looked small because he was cold. Hopefully, the locker room isn't that cold, but you still don't know what a dude's dick looks like all of the time from catching a glimpse of it one time.

So an adult man who is not completely unfamiliar with penises is not going to 1. openly stare at another man in the locker room and 2. look only at his penis and have some crisis about "Mine looks different".

I suppose for the right character in the right circumstances, you can sell any kind of goofy-ass reaction, including the "breasted boobily" stuff where women think consciously about their tits in a way that actual women generally don't and male authors love to write. But you have to make it a whole Thing. She has to have some reason why her nipples are super sensitive today and thus she pays attention when she normally wouldn't.

Instead, you keep asking these dumbass questions like you're 12 that boil down to "Literally all men are the same cardboard cutout based on their D&D stats from this character sheet. Please tell me some facts about these stats!" instead of approaching people as individual humans who all react differently. You haven't even said anything about what kind of culture these characters come from. Both personality and specific culture (not just big things like nationality but shit like whether they're athletes who change with the same guys all the time) are going to affect how and whether men talk about self esteem and bodies.

You're boiling this down to "What does the penis-having alien species all do?" despite already getting several answers that told you to stop doing that. You either didn't listen or didn't understand what people meant so badly that it's pointless to keep giving you help.

This is not a good way to write three-dimensional characters.

Now, I'm not saying nobody has ever snuck a peek in a locker room. Lots of people, regardless of gender, do that. But we're talking covert looks and that kind of looking gives you glimpses of many body parts and not always a very clear look either.

Most actual men on most actual days of their lives are going to feel insecure about their bodies relative to someone else because the other dude looks better at the gym or grows chest and facial hair more easily or is much taller or isn't going bald.

We love to make jokes about penis size, but in my experience, the level of perpetual crisis dudes have over potential baldness is way higher. There are a shitton of ways to be insecure about yourself and your body. That goes for any gender.

Maybe a dude feels insecure because the other guy is much less body-conscious and has an easier time changing in front of people or because he's paid five times as much and is changing into a thousand dollar suit.

Many of the markers of masculinity and attractiveness have very little to do with penises.

There's also a vast difference between your POV character thinking some other dude's huge package is admirable and your POV character thinking he himself is inadequate. He could think his own dick is average and that it would be nicer to be hung like a pornstar without being insecure about it. He could also have a big dick yet still be insecure about it because he's a weirdo who's obsessed with penis size. He could be a size queen who wants to take a ride on that. He could have an ex girlfriend who thought big penises hurt and be creepily fascinated and wonder whom this guy fucks and how they manage.

All this shit is a character point. Stop treating it as immutable truth where someone can give you the Correct Answer™ for you to slot into your writing or spank bank fantasies.

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littlemsnerd · 1 year ago

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I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT THESE PHOTOS

These family photos come directly from the Hazbin Hotel Instagram and Twitter accounts, and are in universe cannon photos.

The most recent photo, featuring Charlie seated, appears to be taken in the hotel parlor. It's very possible the fireplace in the original hotel was inspired by something in the Morningstar family home, but if you look at the parlor Hazbin Hotel card, the fire places are identical.

This photo has to at least be 7 years old, as we know that's the last time Charlie spoke to her mom, but I'd wager it's older as Charlie looks to be somewhere in her mid-teens (post her emo phase haha). So when did the hotel itself first come into the picture?

We know Charlie and Lucifer weren't close, and we can assume Lilith kept them separated based on "More Than Anything", but we don't know exactly when.

Previously, I had assumed Lilith kept Charlie from her dad due to Lucifer's clear spiraling. He admits he's depressed directly, and it comes from losing his hope. He's spent centuries only seeing the worst choices humanity made with free will, and where Lilith thrived and found independence, she watched the man she loved lose his mind, inspiration and motivation. And it's very clear Charlie takes after her dad as a dreamer. So rather than risk Charlie losing her inspiration, Lilith kept her at a distance.

While we can't see Lucifers whole left hand, we do know in the show he still wears his wedding ring throughout the series. But we do see Lilith's left hand, and it is ring free. They are clearly separated but posing for an official portrait as they remain the king and queen of hell, the photo having been captioned "The first family of hell."

Compare the official family portrait where Charlie is a teen with the photos in Lucifer's office. While we cant see their left hands in the first photo, in the second photo, we see both Lucifer and Lilith wearing their rings, clearly happy together with a very young Charlie, everyone holding onto each other. And while we can't see their rings in the 1st photo, they both clearly appear happy, holding their daughter closely between them.

We can guess this is around the same age Charlie was in her memories during "More Than Anything", which makes it more complicated. What changed from these photos to that memory??

I keep trying to understand how it went from below, loving, goofy, more in line with the relationship dynamics Vivzie had originally described to where we are. In which Lilith has supposedly abandoned not just her kingdom, but her daughter, and has been in heaven for 7 years.

ESPECIALLY because these 2 photos are captioned "The devil really is in the details."

#hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lilith morningstar #charlie morningstar

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puffyducks · 8 days ago

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DCRC Week #31

Only 2 weeks into the semester and school is already beating my ass, but you know who always has my back? That's right baby. Paperinik. New. Adventures. Always there for me when nobody else is.

Anyways um today is PKNA #26: Time Flies which is a fun and normal adventure chapter with absolutely no existential commentary on the nature of art whatsoever.

GIANT ENEMY CRAB WHOOOO YEAH BABY THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN ABOUT

umm ACTUALLY mysterious disembodied voice, Donald is a little bitch so write that down

Shoutout to Malva I think her design is really cool and we love a bald woman they slays. Shoutout to bald women actually, just like in general.

DUDE LOOK they're flying through time... just like the cover art

Shoutout to Malva AGAIN for this outfit. Yas bitch slay!!!

their faces are killing me

Since Malva and Vlad are already traveling everywhere with such little regard for the timestream they should go show a Victorian child an iPhone and see if he dies from shock

YEAHHHH BIG FUCKING ROBOT DRAGON FIGHT YEAAHHHH 🔥🔥🔥

No Vlad is right here, PK and Lyla are doing time travel all wrong. You're supposed to dress up in silly little outfits :/

The 4 of them are so fucking goofy I'm kind of living for this set of characters tbh

AW HELL NAW WE IN THE LAND BEFORE TIME

Enjoying this pair of random Evronian workers who seem to be about as rundown as the rest of us

Goofy asf panel they're just like D:

heh... well then, LET'S. GET. DANGEROU- no wait that's the other guy

LYLA WITH MESSY HAIR RRRAAAHHHHH I love her

WoOAoaoOAoahhh PLOT TWIST!!! Is that DUCKLAS STYVESANT??? Remember? Remember him from Portrait of the Young Hero-

THAT'S RIGHT, WHAT YOU JUST READ FOR THE LAST 60 PAGES WAS ACTUALLY A SERIES OF AI GENERATED SLOP FROM THE YEAR 2255!!! FUCK YOU

Oh.

OKAY SO. Obviously the biggest hit of this chapter comes at the very end, when it's revealed that the entire story we've been following wasn't actually real, and this whole time we've just been reading an episode of a TV show that was entirely computer-generated. Of course, this comic was still made by real artists, because the technology to AI generate photos didn't exist all the way back in 1999 (thank god).

Had I read this comic maybe 4, 5 years ago, I would've probably just been like "oh huh. that's neat." and moved on. But reading this story now, in the year 2025??? Holy shit dude. The accuracy with which they approach the topic of AI art in this story is lowkey terrifying. You're telling me that Ducklas fucking Styvesant can grasp the concept of why AI art would be wrong in the year 1999, and we somehow have people in MODERN DAY that can't grasp why people are against it? 😭

This is another one of those scenarios where you read sci-fi media from the past that's exploring some kind of existential threat, in this case the existence of entirely machine-generated "art", and it's explored as some kind of scary far off "what if" scenario, but yet again we're brought face to face with the fact that this is actually happening NOW. Like NOW now. This comic predicted that computer generated shows would be a newly emerging technology in 2255, that makes us almost 230 years ahead of schedule in the real world. AND I THINK THAT'S FUCKIN CRAZY!!!!

If we're gonna go the route of making all the sci-fi horrors of PKNA into real world things can we at least get an Uno first? I would much prefer him existing over the AI slop that's all over google images now, thanks xoxo.

Anyways to briefly wind down it's time for Lyla comic!!

Shoutout to Lyla for being in what I can only assume is robot therapy

BTW if my coworkers decided to invite themselves over to my house and expected ME to prepare a meal for them?? I'd literally kill everyone in that office.

I can't cook for shit and I even I knew that... also if Lyla wasn't a robot she would have severe burns all over her body right now so. Here's a quick PSA: don't microwave eggs, don't microwave water either, both will explode. Above all else, stay safe in the kitchen.

Anyways here are some shots of Lyla being cute because I think she looks great in this artstyle.

See you next week fellow book clubbers 🫡

#dcrc #dcrc week 31 #paperinik

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drunkenbagel · 2 years ago

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Enchanted to meet you - Part 3

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Spanish f!reader Contents: overall fluff, descriptions of panic attack, angst with comfort a/n: i'm so so sorry for being away so long, i somehow lost access to the account and couldn't post anything!! also have been on a kind of writer's block, so i'm sorry for that too lol. for this part i added some media, let me know if you like it :D Word count: 5,5k Disclaimer: none of the photos used are mine and therefore i do not own them, i just edited them.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Your side of the video call stayed silent for a moment, while you were trying to process what Pedro just said.

“y/n? Did I lost you?” he asked, and groaned. “Maldita cobertura de LA” (Damned LA reception.)

“Wha- What did you just say?” you questioned again. “Are you kidding me right now? Because if you are, no te lo perdonaré nunca.” (I'll never forgive you)

”What? I just-” he started another sentence, but he was interrupted by someone asking to take a picture with him. You quickly silenced your mic and turned off your camera, not wanting to be seen by the people he was with. They would probably get the wrong idea, getting him in trouble. Not to mention the controversy and the incessant hate train that the situation would create. You knew Pedro was sensitive when it came to hurt and pain, even if it didn't seem that way just because he brushed it off with goofiness and some jokes. So, you tried your best to avoid any kind of problem that seeing someone like you with him could cause. After a few minutes, he focused his phone on his face again.

“Hey, sorry about that, darlin'” he said with a side smile. “Some people asked- Are you still there?”

You connected your mic and camera again. “Yeah, sorry. Didn't want to disturb you.”

He frowned. “Don't say that. You don't.”

You felt a small pang on your chest, but you brushed it off by jumping again to the previous topic.

“So, what is that thing you were telling me? You're inviting me where?”

“Oh, yeah! I was thinking if you'd like to come with me to Los Angeles. I've got some long filming ahead and was wondering if you'd like to visit me. I'm going to stay at my house here, and of course, as my best friend, you have a designated room” he said laughing. “I could show you around and stuff. You know, to see the beautiful places here.”

“I mean... I'd sure as hell would love it, don't get me wrong or anything” you said, letting out a nervous chuckle. “But, uhm...”

You didn't know how to tell him that you were dying to see Los Angeles since you moved to the United States, but that you were afraid to be outside with him and the consequences that it could bring. You two had been basically best friends for almost two and a half years now, but he was still a celebrity, for fuck's sake. And you were... Average. You always tried to be really careful when going outside with him. Wasn't he afraid of being seen with you? It was easier to blend in the few times you two went out in New York, especially since you preferred to go out mostly at night-time or just hang out at his house.

“Then it's settled! I'll be back there in like a week, and after a few days we can come back here for as long as you like. I think it'll be so fun being here with you, you'll love this! I'll show you so many things here. Oh, I also could show you around the studios, maybe you'll see someone from those crime shows you're obsessed with.”

“Hey! Why the cute rant and then you attack me? Not fair” you said cracking a small smile. “I appreciate your invite, really, but... I don't know, I have my job, my rent...”

“y/n, since your promotion you practically work from home. You don't go to the office anymore. And about your apartment, you always complain about the landlord, the sink, the place itself. Si no es esto, es lo otro. Why don't you move out and look for anything else?” (If it's not this, it's that.)

“I-” you tried to think of any excuses, but he was right. You had been looking for apartments, but it was very difficult to find anything decent in New York with an average paycheck. You sighed, defeated. “Look, I know you're right, but what do you want me to do? Just magically find something?”

He hummed, and brought his hand to his chin, thinking. You almost laughed. It looked like he was thinking so hard. After a few moments, he snapped his fingers.

“Here's the deal. I know this filming is going to be at least three months, so how about you stay with me here, and then you can stay at mine in New York? You know you have a room at my place anyways.”

“What? That is not-” You felt your cheeks heat up. How could he be so calm about this? “So that is your solution? You want me to move in with you?”

“I wouldn't say that, it's more like... A temporary solution until you find a place for yourself. You know you practically spend all your time in my house when I'm there! Also, you could stop paying rent for that shithole while staying with me, so I only see positive points here. Am I wrong?”

He smiled at the camera while you ran a hand through your hair, stressed. He had a very valid point, of course, but he said it so casually that it left you a bit dumbfounded. So did this mean that he didn't care to be seen with you? His New York apartment was in a multiple housing building, so it was always easier for you to go in unnoticed. But Los Angeles? You didn't know if that was possible. People there were more used to seeing celebrities, of course, but the anxious thoughts were not leaving you alone.

“Hey, I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable or anything. You know you can always say no” he said with a worried tone.

“I know, I know. I was just thinking...” you sighed. “You're right. But are you sure you don't mind me being there with you? Or anywhere close for that matter? Are you sure it's okay? Because I wouldn't-”

“Y'think I would have said it if I didn't mean it? You're offending me!” he said laughing. “Now, seriously. I'd love to have you around more. You know I miss you when we're apart.”

“Aw, mi Pedrito se enterneció. ¡Te he ablandado! How did you live without me?” you joked. (My little Pedro got soft. I have softened you!)

His could feel his cheeks getting red, but he tried to brush it off. “Anda, cállate. Do you accept my deal or not? The offer is now for limited time.” (C'mon, shut up.)

“Okay, okay! I do accept” you said laughing. “But I'll need help with moving if I have to leave everything at your apartment before going to LA. You help me or the deal is off.”

“You got it” he said with a wide smile. The way his eyes wrinkled while he was smiling or laughing made your heart skip a beat. It was too cute for your heart to handle, you loved it. The way he grasped onto anyone around him while he let out the cutest belly laugh, or how contagious they were.

Little did you know he was thinking the same thing about you. Pedro loved your laugh, especially when it was shared with him. Oh, how his heart started to beat faster every time you sent him a message. Or how that one time you were video chatting him and you felt so comfortable that you fell asleep still in the call. He ended up just watching you sleep soundly before falling asleep ‘beside you’. And now he was going to have you under the same roof? He felt like he was the happiest man in the world when you accepted. He couldn't believe you did. He had been thinking about asking you since you always complained about how awful your landlord was, or how he refused to fix anything. Truth be told, he wanted to punch that guy more than anything sometimes.

He tried to keep his silly crush for himself, especially since you were much younger than him. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, so he tried to keep it away from his thoughts. But it was so damn difficult. You were so kind, so caring, and so sweet. He wanted you all for himself, but whenever he thought about it, he always ended up in the conclusion that you didn't seem to show any interest beyond your friendship. That's why he forced himself to act as he was, just your ‘older’ best friend. Who casually just invited you to live with him.

Cool, cool. Totally normal.

As the days went by, you put your leave notice to your landlord and started packing everything. Pedro helped you with all, just as he promised, even using his own car to move the boxes back and forth between apartments. Luckily, you didn't have that much stuff since your apartment was quite small. Time seemed to pass very slowly but so fast at the same time, leaving your stomach to be a flustered mess of nervousness. Soon enough, you both were waiting into the airline row to enter the plane.

“Oh my god. I can't believe I'm doing this!”

“It's hitting you now?” Pedro answered laughing. “Actually, it's making me feel weird too. But the good kind. I like it when I have you around.”

“Aw” you said pouting. “You like it, but not enough to pay for us to sit together?”

“Are you kidding me? I'm not going to pay 50 extra dollars for a seat. I'm already going to see you all the time when we land, don't give me a hard time with it! Plus, we're only a seat apart, eres una exagerada.” (You're exaggerating.)

“Whatever. I'll remember this betrayal.”

“Ugh” he said smiling while he rolled his eyes. “C'mon, we're next.”

The six hour flight went by faster than you expected it to be, especially since you slept for most of it. The chatty old lady that sat in between you two was kind enough to switch places with Pedro halfway on the flight when she saw the way he looked at you uncomfortably sleeping against the plane window, so he put the armrest back and carefully pulled you to his side so you could sleep on him.

You looked so beautiful like this. Softly moving your hair away from your face, he pushed the stray hairs behind your ear, and you sighed contently. He couldn't stop the smile that formed on his lips.

“How long have you been dating, dear?”

Pedro turned his head to his right, confused. “What?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Are you married perhaps? It's just that I didn't see your rings so I guessed you didn't pop the question yet. Don't tell me this trip is for that! Oh my, congratulations!”

“What? No! No, no” he said while moving his free hand on the air. He could feel his cheeks getting hot and he looked at you quickly in case you had heard the lady, but you were soundly asleep. Then he looked at her again. “It's not like that. We- Uh, we're just friends. She's my best friend. Just that.”

“‘M sorry then, dear. It's just that I heard you two talkin’ about living together, saw you actin’ like you were, and I just assumed. But let me tell ya’, honey, friends don't look at each other like that” she said, briefly patting his thigh while smiling. “My dear Stevie, may he rest in peace, was always lookin’ at me the same. I didn't realize I was in love with him until I was with somebody else, for the love of god! I just assumed he was a good friend and never saw me as nothin’ else. He even helped me with this guy just ‘cause I seemed happy. But you see, honey, he just wanted the best for me as long as I was happy, even if that meant sacrificing his own happiness. I almost lost my dearest because I thought helpin’ me to find joy in another meant that he wasn't interested. I can see how you look at her. Don't let that happen to you, honey. Believe me, not worth the time you lose while y’know that you two are just playin’ pretend.”

Pedro only looked at the woman with his lips briefly parted, his heart heavy on his chest. He didn't want that happening, but he could also not risk ruining the relationship he already had with you. He would never do that. Also, he noticed how you always avoided going to crowded spaces or where paparazzi could spot you two together. How could he not? He knew that you didn't like the attention that kind of things attracted, so he respected your decisions over where to meet. Pedro preferred staying with you watching TV or playing games rather than cameras following him everywhere anyways. In fact, he knew moving to Los Angeles was a huge step for you, since it was nearly impossible to go out and not be spotted by paparazzis. That was mainly why he was feeling so nervous about this whole thing, but he hoped that after all the time that you two had been friends for, maybe you wouldn't be too bashful about going out with him, and would let him recognise you publicly as his friend.

He spent the hour and a half that was left of the flight sleeping with his head on top of yours, only waking up when the lady beside him shook his arm gently to let him know that you were landing. He then did the same with you, and couldn't hold back a smile while he watched you rub your eyes and yawn. After getting off the plane you two went for your baggages, and after you managed to put everything in one big stroller, you started walking outside.

“I'm impressed” he said, watching you push the thing by yourself. “I thought you were going to bring your whole house over here. Is this really everything?”

“Well, no” you said as if it was obvious. “Did you think I was going to bring my scarfs, jackets and big sweaters to LA? I'm not-”

You stopped talking when you saw a man with a camera in the distance. He was taking pictures of you. You gulped and tried to laugh, but an uncomfortable chuckle came out.

“y/n? Are you alright?” asked Pedro, a little worried by your change of demeanour. He moved his eyes in the direction you were looking, and then he saw it. A couple of men with cameras, and they were getting closer. “Hey, look at me.” You linked your eyes with his, and he had a soft look on them. “You'll be alright. C'mon, let's take a taxi and get home.”

You nodded and tried to ignore the sound of clicking cameras getting closer. Taking the stroller, Pedro quickly made his way to a taxi and started packing everything up while you got inside. When the men reached the car you heard him say something before he got to the back of it with you and gave the address to the driver. You nervously took his hand with yours and he squeezed it twice, which was his silent way of asking if you were feeling okay. You squeezed it back once. Yeah, just anxious. You two came up with this method after Pedro realized that you sometimes went non-verbal when you were in situations that made you feel anxious, and he wanted to know how he could help. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he left a kiss on your hair while rubbing his thumb over yours. After a few minutes in silence, he spoke up.

“I'm thinking you won't have much enthusiasm of going out. I understand if you wanna spend the day at home. We can watch a film or something, then order food. Sounds good?”

“Yeah” you answered in a whisper. “I'm sorry.”

“Why? You didn't do anything wrong. I know you're not used to this, and I love you for coming with me to the other side of the country despite knowing the situations that you may have to face. I should be the one apologizing” he said, and kissed your forehead. “I know this will be hard at first, but I want to be able to call you my friend. To talk about you in interviews, or when people ask me about funny stories. And I'm not trying to give you an ultimatum or anything since I understand that you want your privacy, I do too, but with my kind of life, you always have to give something. I don't want you being followed, but at least I want to be able to not hide my amazing best friend to the world.”

“I understand, and I'm okay with it. I didn't just accept moving with you lightly, I knew what I was getting into. And I understand that it may have been difficult not to say anything about me, but I just- I wasn't ready. It's not easy being a celebrity's best friend” you said with a chuckle. “But I also get your point. You have been my best friend for a long time now, and I don't want to hide anymore. I know it's going to be hard, so I need you to be patient with me. More than you have already been, which I'm incredibly thankful for. But it's not going to be something I magically get used to. Don't you think I might also be dying to share you with the world? I'd love to! But I was trying to wrap my head around it. And I did, and I'm ready. So expect me posting about you and your shitty habits everywhere on my Instagram and Twitter from now on.”

He couldn't hold back a wide grin while he took you into a tight hug, and you giggled. “Thank you. Thank you so much for doing this, y/n. Ugh, you're the best. How did I ever bag this good of a friend?”

“I believe you stalked me for weeks, forced Ernesto to tell you things about my schedule, then waited for me in the café every time like a puppy and called it ‘a coincidence’, right?”

“You're saying it like I'm some creep or something! I just liked how normal you treated me, okay? Shut up.”

After arriving to the house and setting your things on your room, Pedro gave you a small tour of the house. You loved it. Especially the views from the amazing balcony that led to a beautiful view of the city. You two opened a bottle of wine while waiting for the takeout to arrive, and you braced yourself to finally face the challenge: going through socials. You were sure that the photos from this morning were all over the internet already, and when you entered Twitter, you confirmed it. The paparazzi pictures where everywhere, and everyone was speculating on how were you related to him. When the food arrived and he was about to dig into it, you spoke.

“Pedro?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it's time to post it” you said while taking a long sip of the glass.

“That fast?” he asked incredulously. You nodded and showed him your phone. “Okay then, one sec.”

He took out his phone and typed something. A few moments later, your phone chimed, and you stared at the Instagram post you were tagged in.

“You bitch! You could have picked another photo” you said while laughing.

“I know, but that's the funniest one” he said chuckling too.

—•—

It had been a bit more than a month since the photo was posted, and people were taking it a lot better than you had expected. Some were even asking you to post ‘unseen’ Pedro content. There were also people that insulted you and told you ugly things, but you decided to ignore and block them. Your social media follower count had exploded, and you had a lot of new people interacting with your normal content, but you got more or less used to it.

You had been out together a couple of times, mostly to get groceries and stuff before Pedro began his filming. He made you copies for every key in the house, and also gave you the spare one for his car in case you ever needed it. But since then, he spent a lot of hours out in the studios, so you mostly saw each other at early mornings or nights.

“Hey, I'm free today so I was thinking of going to the beach or something. I know it's not the best weather, but maybe we could take the car and then rent some bikes and go for a ride over there? What do you think?” Pedro asked you one afternoon while eating lunch.

You yawned while nodding. You had tried not to sleep in the Los Angeles daylight, but you were still kind of used to the New York timezone. Jet lag was no joke, and your shitty sleep schedule didn't help either.

“Sure. But I might be a little out of practice, so you better not laugh at me.”

“But that would be the best part!” he said laughing. “Okay then, I'll go for the car. This way I can show you around a bit more than these past weeks.”

He seemed very happy since he made you two public, and it made your heart go soft at the thought that sharing you with the world had that kind of reaction for him. Sometimes you thought that the people would find your friendship weird because of the age difference, but to your luck, it seemed like most people understood the situation a little. Of course, there were the ones that thought it was weird, or that you two were dating but didn't want to tell, but luckily it wasn't that many people.

When you got dressed Pedro drove to Santa Monica beach, then rented the bikes, and it was then when your small tour began. He showed you Venice beach, his favourite places to eat, drink and you even saw a museum from the outside. When the sun was starting to set, you rode back to the bike renting shop and sat in the sand to watch the sunset.

After it got a little dark, Pedro drove you to a local Mexican restaurant not too far to have dinner. You ordered some tacos and enchiladas, and while eating them both of you talked about how filming was going. He was so excited about it, and he wanted to invite you to set. You told him you would think about it beacuse you too had a job, but you ended up promising you would soon since you could do yours from anywhere and your schedule was more flexible. Pedro had a small desk on the living room so you used it as a makeshift little office.

Unaware for both of you, some people had spotted Pedro at the restaurant and posted it on the internet, which led the paparazzi to the location. They were waiting outside, and when you two realised it, it was too late, since there were already a small swarm of them. Your stomach began to ache with anxiety. This was the first time that you encountered that many together.

“I can ask the staff to let us out from the back” Pedro said after seeing your reaction to the small crowd.

“No, no. I don't want to inconvenience them or anything. We'll just... Go out, and then walk to the car and go back home. I'll be fine” you said, but worry was lingering in your voice.

After getting your leftovers in a small container, paying and gathering your things, you got up and headed to the exit. When Pedro got his hand on the handle of the cristal door, the flashes of the cameras had already began clicking around you. You had to cover your eyes and stop in your tracks for a second, which Pedro used to take your hand and lead you to where the car was a few meters away. Everyone was pushing around and shouting, trying to get his attention.

“Why did you hide her?”

“Did she move in with you?”

“Are you two dating?”

You reached the car, but they were too close. One of them was blocking the passenger door, so you couldn't really get into it. Pedro was already on the driver's side of the car, waiting for you to get in.

“Please move, you're in the middle” you heard Pedro say to them.

The photographers didn't listen and kept shouting while flashing their cameras. They were so close, too close, you felt like your air was slowly getting kicked out of your lungs. But they didn't back off, they just kept moving closer and pushing their way into you to get the best angles.

“Why are you even with her? You can do so much better!”

Pedro turned around to yell at the guy who said that, but he was just in front of you, and while he flinched backwards trying to get away from him thinking Pedro was maybe going to push him, his camera hit your face. It hit you right in the cheek, breaking the skin ever so slightly but enough to make you bleed. You gasped and your head moved down from the impact. You heard Pedro yell your name as he ran to your side, and you could swear the small crowd went silent for an instant before resuming the flashing of the cameras.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Pedro screamed at the guy. He took your face softly in between his hands as he was inspecting the spot which you had been hit on.

“She was in the middle, it's not my fault!”

“It's not your fault?” he said tearing his eyes from you to the man, and felt the worry for you shift into rage inside of him. “If you had even a little bit of a brain you wouldn't have to push anyone, you fucking asshole!”

You couldn't hear anything. Everything sounded like it was muffled. Panic was starting to build rapidly into you, making your limbs shake. Your breath was becoming irregular and your hands were sweating. No, no, no. Not here. Not now. You turned your back to the photographers, facing the car and putting your hands against it in an attempt to ground yourself. Tears started forming in your eyes, and you tried not to spill them. You didn't want to cry, not here, not where you could embarrass Pedro. That was the last thing you wanted. You tried to open the car door with shaky hands, and after what felt like an eternity, you got into the car. You crouched down and took your head between your hands trying to stop your head from pounding. Pedro was so fucking angry at the guy. How could he treat you like that? He had no right to do it. He was almost going to punch him but stopped in his tracks when he saw you get into the car and double over. His stomach sank at the sight. He knew what that position meant for you, and without any other word he got into the car and drove away without caring if he ran over one of those ungrateful men.

“Breathe, baby. We're out, I'm taking you home. We're almost there. Steady breaths.”

He kept talking to you in an effort to ground you, but silent tears were already streaming down your face as you hyperventilated. You hated this, you hated messing up everything. As soon as you were home, Pedro got out of the car and ran to your side. After opening the door, he carefully took you in his arms as you clinged to him, still with uneven breaths. He took you to the living room and lowered both of you to the ground.

“y/n, let's breathe together, okay? Look” he said while taking your hands into his and clutching them into his chest. He breathed in and out slowly a couple of times, and you tried to imitate him, but it was very hard for you, which only got you more frustrated and anxious. “It's alright, don't push it. Slowly. There's no rush, I'm here with you. Now, I'm going to leave your side for a second” he said softly, and you let out a small whine. “It'll be just a moment, and I'll be right back, okay? It's alright, I promise.”

You slightly nodded, still shaking and breathing harshly. Pedro quickly got up and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, making his way back to you. He then sat in front of you and put it into your hands, holding them to your chest. Cold always helped you calm down.

“Meanwhile... Let's do 5-to-1, alright? Tell me 5 things you can see.”

After a small pause, you nodded and started looking around. “P-photos” you answered with a small shaky voice. “TV. Kitchen. F-fan. Bal- balcony. Shoes.”

“Good. Very good, baby. You're doing amazing” he said with a smile. “Now 4 things you can touch.”

You looked around and with a trembling hand you touched the rug. Then your pants. Then the sofa. And lastly the small coffee table that was in front of the sofa.

“That's good. Very good” he reassured you again. Positive responses helped you feel like you were a bit more in control. “Now three things you can hear.”

You breathed in and out shakily again, and closed your eyes for a moment. You could hear some faint music from the street, playing not too far away. “M- music.” Moving your head slowly, you heard the kitchen clock ticking. “Clock.” Pedro nodded and gave your hands a small squeeze. A breeze made the trees outside crunch. “Wind.”

“Perfect. That's very good, baby. You're doing great. Now can two things you can smell?”

You looked around again, trying to find anything that came into your ratio. You sniffed the air, and saw the abandoned leftover box in the middle of the room.

“F-food.” Pedro smiled at you and nodded. You looked at him with teary eyes, inhaled and then clutched his shirt. “You. Your- cologne.”

He couldn't stop his face softening or the loving look he gave you. He knew you were just saying it because he was the closest thing you could smell, but he couldn't help his heart from beating faster.

“Very good. Now the last one, something you can taste.”

You had calmed down a little, but after a few moments of looking around, your breath became hitched again. You couldn't find anything. Nothing. Not even a mint or some candy. Pedro saw how your thoughts started racing again, and his smile faded completely, panic briefly washing over him too.

“Okay, okay. Remember, slow breaths. Deep and slow, please.”

Your eyes didn't meet his, frantically looking for something that would complete the exercise. You had to complete it. It wasn't right. Pedro thought of every possible solution, but nothing came to mind. Until it did. But he didn't want to do it. It felt wrong, but he saw you start trembling again, he couldn't just leave you to suffer. He knew how important this cycle was to you.

“Oh, fuck this. I- I'm sorry” Pedro muttered while tenderly taking your face in his hands and bringing his lips to meet yours. Your entire body stopped shaking in shock as your eyes widened. You could taste his minty toothpaste along with your shared dinner. Without you noticing, your breath had become slower because of the air shortage. But Pedro noticed that, and he gently pulled back from the kiss. He slowly opened his eyes to meet your still widened ones. For what felt the longest time you two didn't say anything, and his thoughts were the ones that started to race now.

Fuck. I fucked up everything. Why did I even do that? Shit. I ruined it. Now she's going to leave and-

You left the ice pack on the floor, and leaning into him, you snuggled into his lap and put your head on his chest, hugging his waist with your arms. He did the same and held your head with one of his hands, resting his lips on top of it. Pedro was now the one with wide eyes.

What was he supposed to do now? What the hell did this even mean?

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #fanfiction

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zabberzim · 11 months ago

Text

Fic ideas for the LanDot nation

The many LanDot ideas I have but never got to write (it’s midterms now ;-;)

I’ll classify this into spoilers and non spoilers for the manga so anyone can read this :3

No Spoilers fanwork ideas

Dot gets told that his love life will flourish by a prophet and he is HYPED

Based off the official fan book info where he spends his pocket money on monthly prophet magazines.

Astrology guy x Astronomy guy

Shenanigans ensue

Dot has a nightmare where he is surrounded by Anna dolls

The dolls tell him to confess/make sense of his feelings like the Christmas ghost of the past, the future and the present

Could be a reoccurring nightmare or just a one time thing, both give Dot a sense of “???huh???” But being a little bit of a believer, he really thinks about it and what it could mean.

Feelings realisation with the help of a little girl he’s never personally met

Lance makes merch for Anna and made one of Dot to get back at him

It was funny until it wasn’t, Lance feels like he has to make it look perfect and struggles on how none of the pictures he had does Dot justice. Some of them are goofy in a dorky way, some others are just him being angry, and there are just some that he can’t bring himself to make merch of…

A little bit of feelings realisation, as a treat

And or he can try to get a good photo

Established relationship, Dot and Lance try to keep it low, but their matching earrings/accessories gave it away…

and it’s prequel

Established relationship, the origin of the matching accessories

I HC Lance to show affection through gifts or materialistic means more than Dot (see. His merch collection)

Early in the relationship, a pair of matching accessories catch Lance’s attention. He buys it for himself and Dot to wear together.

Dot was initially a bit bashful but gives in.

Their friends begin to notice this and starts to wonder what’s going on between the two.

There’s a little cut out of Dot in the lower right corner of Lance’s pendant now

RPG AU (based off of light novel/choose your own adventure books 2&3) Dot has his tummy exposed, Lance dotes him on it

On the cover of the 2nd LN/CYOA book, Dot, presumably with the class barbarian, doesn’t have his clothes cover him properly. Being the older brother that he is, Lance dotes on him.

An exposed tummy leaves one with a higher chance of being sick , Lance offers Dot his cape.

Dot is flattered by this but ends up getting sick anyway

Established/Developing relationship: meeting the family

Either Dot brings Lance to meet his family to get semi-interrogated by Malta (Dot’s grandma and mother watch from the sidelines, his grandma is also surprisingly capable of being intimidating)

Or Lance gets Dot to meet Anna, Dot gets seriously interrogated by a 12 year old over tea.

The gang gets an invite to Macaron’s Orchestra when Dot gets to perform as the violinist, Lance is surprised and slightly moved by the music

Dot is good at the violin, of course he should perform.

Lance wasn’t there at the scene where he was playing, so I want him to be the only one slightly surprised at this reveal and very surprised that Dot can actually play well.

Fantasy AU: knights and dragons( Dot is the knight and Lance is the Dragon)

In this fantasy AU, princesses being locked in towers is still something that happens, albeit somewhat rare.

Due to her age and politics of her kingdom, Princess Anna was sent to escape with her brother when their kingdom was under attack. Lance can transform into a dragon because of some potion he took in order to better protect Anna. He keeps her in the tower most of the time for safety, but Anna still gets lonely, so she makes paper airplanes and flies them out to try to find people occasionally (Despite her brother’s disapproval, she does it while he isn’t looking)

Aspiring young knight of a nearby kingdom, who wishes nothing more to find a princess of his own stumbles upon one of these planes (after many attempts to save tower princesses and proposing to girls, royalty or not)

When reaching the tower while Lance was away, it was clear Anna isn’t the princess he’s looking for, but he still plays with her before her brother comes back. (Big scare)

Semi-domestic fluff: Since Anna isn’t the right princess, maybe her brother is ?

Demon AU: Demon Dot and Human Lance

Dot, a demon, accidentally gets summoned when Lance, a human, wanted to summon a guardian Angel for his sister.

With no real return button, Dot’s just stuck there I guess. Lance makes Dot act as Anna’s guardian Angel despite knowing the fact that he’s a demon

(Angels, demons, similar spell; this Demon that he summoned is the best he can get atm, and he technically still has to fulfil his wish of keeping his sister safe. Plus, he’s got some little bits of feathers on his wings, it’s like a discounted Angel at worst)

Other people can see Dot, not his wings, tail or horns though

More details here hehe

(WINGS WINGS WINGS

Hi, I was a Destiel fan , can you tell?)

Excessive use of the Ira Kruez makes Dot ill, team mom Lance is here to help

Sick fic! Using Ira Kruez in the rain causes Dot to have a magical burnout. Lance takes care of him in a sick fic way

Alternatively:

Dot falls from the fucking sky because of a broom mishap, Lance takes care of him with bad pick up lines and more

Mash gets challenged by Lloyd Cavill’s goons and Dot takes up the challenge for his friend. The competition was rigged and a broom mishap happened half way through, leaving Dot badly injured.

Lance is the only one who can take care of him periodically because 1. He’s good with class so he can skip skip sometimes 2. He’s the most capable at take care of people amongst their group of friends.

The bad pick up line part came from “laughter is the best medicine”, it’s advice the others gave to Lance when Dot is still in a magic coma, amongst many other dumb suggestions.

“Did it hurt?”

“Huh??”

“When you fell out of the sky and got a concussion “

A little more display of affection, Dot eating it up.

They are both dumb

Modern AU: Doctor Lance and less successful/ failing musician Dot; And they were roommates

Years after graduation, the gang goes their separate ways. Mash becomes an unconventional cream puff baker, Finn becomes a public servant, Lemon works in her family’s bookshop suspiciously close to Mash’s bakery. Lance works at a high paying job as a successful doctor, and no one really knows what Dot is up to…

A chance meeting after work leads Lance to find out (fuck around, find out)

Lance bumps into Dot at a convenience store. It wasn’t a route he passed by much, so it was a surprise to see the spiky red haired boy there, handing in… something and looking dejected.

Upon meeting Lance’s eyes, Dot hopped over with faux-familiarity and an air of awkwardness when he offered to grab dinner, dragging him by the elbow to leave.

Over some fried rice with a few cups of beer, Dot vents his troubles in finding work after his ambitions to start a band failed; he got kicked out from his last apartment for late rent and his sister is starting to nag him to move out of hers. Lance just pats Dot’s back as he wails shitfaced. In the end, Lance brings Dot home so he can rest.

Naturally, Lance paid for that meal.

In this AU, the gang are all adults, so I HC Anna to be in junior/high school.

Anna obviously would live with Lance. Idk if i should make Anna’s illness a thing in this AU.

The Crown family is middle high class, fairly influential,

Despite Lance’s success, they cut ties with him (homophobia? )

Anyways that my idea

TBC

Spoilers to manga)

Lance has difficulty balancing work as a new DV, Dot offers to help out as his assistant DV

Between Anna, school work and DV work, life has been hard to handle as of late. Shortly after a chat with Orter Madl, unlikely help appears in the form of Dot Barrett!

Dot’s reason for volunteering as his assistant :

It’d look good on his CV

He can spend more time at the Bureau of Magic, maybe the three of them can get lunch tgt more often

It’s a good opportunity to poke fun at Lance

Established relationship: PTSD or nightmares of the final battle

The scene was so all too familiar to him: Lance rushing forward to block the projectiles before he could even react; his warm body slumping down on his as the smell of iron, the liquidy feeling of warm blood seeps through the cape into his palms, now stained red. What if Lance died that day? Why is he always putting himself in danger?

Memories of the final battle twist into nightmares in Dot’s mind

Dot finds a pin with his face on it among the many other Anna pins

Short and sweet, possible sequel to Lance making Dot merch fic idea.

Remember the sea of Anna pins that acted as chain mail for Lance? Imagine Lance changing it every once in a while.

As roommates, Dot might notice something special when Lance leaves his cloak on his bed one day

Lance and Dot buy back to school products for Anna

As a newly enrolled student of Easton Academy, it’s necessary to buy new things to get ready for this brand new school life.

After no one else being willing to go, Lance drags Dot along with him with the promise of treating him to something nice

It turns into a shopping date

Future AU :they get married

They get married and boom Ira kreuz

TBC

*funny thing is that I’ve written the start to some of these already, I’ve just never gotten around to finishing them…

#mashle #dot barrett #lance crown #lancedot #landot #fic ideas #lance x dot #mashle muscle and magic #I’m so tired rn this took a day to write

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jerzwriter · 10 months ago

Text

With Warning Part 5: Captain Lahela & a Serving of Common Sense

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Characters: Tobias Carrick & Casey, Bryce Lahela Rating: Teen Words: 1,800 Series Summary: Found here it changes a little here - both the warnings, and in this part, who it's being delivered to. Chapter Summary: Casey's just returned from her holiday getaway with Tobias, and she's happy to have the apartment to herself... so of course Bryce shows up! An animated conversation with her friend, gives her food for thought. A/N: I'm going in a little different direction... this was supposed to be all about the friends warning Tobias to stay away from Casey - and it started that way - but now, the warnings are changing.

The timing of this story is just after parts two, three, and four of Christmas Through Your Eyes and the Epilogue of that series takes place after this fic. (The chronological list of fics in the "From Here to There" part of their journey. 😊)

With Warning Masterlist Tobias x Casey Masterlist || My Full Masterlist

The alarm on Casey’s phone blared for the ninth, or maybe it was the tenth time... but it had done the trick. After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stumbled to the bathroom with a delirious smile... she hadn’t been dreaming after all. The Christmas trip with Tobias really happened, and as she splashed cold water onto her face, she realized that for the first time since the attack, she had gone for days simply being... happy.

Her friends were already at work, and she relished being home alone. She adored her roommates, but she knew what awaited her. They would have questions. They’d want to see the photos still tucked away in her phone. And she wasn’t naïve; she knew she’d have to face them when they returned home later, but right now, she needed time to process it all herself.

Returning to her room with a piping hot cup of tea, she stared at the unpacked suitcase lying at the foot of her bed and decided reality could wait a bit longer. Hopping back in bed and looking at the photos from her trip sounded far more enjoyable.

She startled when the phone rang, and a photo of her mother appeared. Maybe it was because she wouldn’t be speaking to her face to face, or maybe because her mother hadn’t had a front-row seat to her budding friendship with Tobias, but Casey decided this might just be the test run she needed.

“Hey, Mom!” She gushed. “Yeah, got back late last night.” “Oh, it was wonderful! We ended up going to New York, too... can you believe I lived there for four years and never saw the Rockefeller Center Tree? Finally crossed that off the bucket list!” “No, neither of us were on social media. We wanted to live in the moment... but I’ll get some pictures up soon.” “I am happy, Ma... I haven’t been this happy in some time!”

Her neck twisted toward her bedroom door as she heard a noise in the hall; that’s where she found Bryce standing with a bowl of cereal already in hand. He went to walk off when he saw she was on the phone, but Casey waved him in.

“Mom, I have to go, Bryce is here. But I’ll call you later and fill you in on all the details.... Of course I'll tell Bryce you said hello, Ma. I love you, too!”

He had already settled into the beanbag chair in the corner of her room, a goofy grin on his face as he enjoyed his... well, Elijah’s Captain Crunch. “You didn’t have to hang up on my account,” he said between spoonfuls. “I would have waited.”

“No... just as well,” Casey insisted. “My mom was five minutes away from asking why we didn’t see her when we were in Philly, and I could do without answering that for now.”

“Mmhhm. So, why didn’t you see her?”

“Same reason we didn’t visit Tobias’s family – that’s not what the trip was about. It was just for fun.”

“And was it?” he asked sincerely. “Fun, that is?”

“It was, Bryce!” She answered more quickly and enthusiastically than she had planned. “I can’t believe it, but it truly put me in the holiday spirit. I didn’t see that coming!”

“I think that might have been Tobias’s plan all along,” Bryce winked. “I should thank him because I love seeing you this happy again... it’s legit, right? You know you don’t have to put on an act for me.”

“I know that,” Casey smiled, taking a seat next to her friend on the rug. “I’m not pretending... I honestly am starting to feel alive again.”

Bryce put the nearly empty cereal bowl aside and gave Casey’s hand a squeeze.

“That’s great because I’ve missed you! It was nice of T to take you on this trip.”

“It was,” she grinned, not comprehending why her cheeks became so flushed.

Bryce lifted the bowl again, gathering the tiny bit of milk that remained on his spoon. “You two have gotten really close, huh?”

“Well, it’s not like that,” Casey replied in a defensive tone. “We’re just friends.”

“OK... I didn’t insinuate you were anything more.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. But, most of the time, when I’m good friends with a guy, everyone assumes it’s something more. And it’s kind of stupid, honestly, because I’m bi... so do people assume I'm fucking anyone I’m good friends with?”

Bryce offered an understanding nod. “As someone who identifies as pan, I can say with full authority... yes. Yes, they do. But fuck them.”

“Fuck who?” Casey asked. “All my friends?”

“No!” he laughed, tossing a pillow her way. “Fuck the idiots who think that. Well, don’t fuck them... screw them. No, don’t screw them either... you... you know what I mean!”

“I do,” Casey giggled. “And you’re right, screw them! Tobias and I love spending time together. We make each other laugh; he’s really helped me these past few months.”

“All good things!” Bryce agreed.

“Exactly! But that doesn’t mean we’re more than friends. I mean, sure, we kissed a couple of times...”

Bryce’s eyes opened wide. “Wait... you what?”

“We kissed. But it’s wasn't a big deal! I mean, you know that. We’ve kissed, and we’re just friends, right?”

“I mean... it was a long time ago...”

“I know, but when we kissed... what were we?”

“Friends.”

“Right!” she snapped her fingers. “And you didn’t think any more of it, did you?”

“Uh...no... I didn’t. Did you?”

“Of course not! Because it was no big deal... Just like me and Tobias. It’s no big deal because we’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Bryce nodded, noting this was her second declaration in seconds. “If you say so.”

“I do!”

“Good!" Assuming they were moving on, he changed the topic. "So, what city was best? Did DC win, or did Philly?”

“Best city, easy,” she winked. “Philly. But the best Christmas tree... that went to New York. Honestly, New York is so magical at Christmas. We even took a carriage ride through Central Park!”

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to do that!”

“Yeah, I made sure the horse was well cared for first...”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“I'm so glad I got to share that with T. It was... perfect! It started snowing, and I swear, it felt like we were in a movie! That's when I saw the mistletoe, so... you know... the kiss.”

“So, your first kiss was on the carriage ride?”

“No, that was our second kiss. But it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Uh, huh,” Bryce muttered. “Uhm, Casey have you ever thought...”

“I mean, we only kissed once before that! Last month... outside of the bookstore in Cambridge. And that’s only because I asked him to!”

“You...asked him... to... kiss you?”

“Yes! Because it had been such a long time since I had been kissed... or anything, really... and I just wanted to know if I could feel something again, you know? But...”

“I know... I know..." Bryce injected. "It didn’t mean anything.”

“EXACTLY! I'm glad we're on the same page!"

Bryce studied Casey carefully, scratching his head.

“So. Why Tobias?”

“Huh?”

“If it was just a kiss between friends... meaning nothing... why did you ask him? You could have asked me? Elijah? Jackie... any of the roomies. But you asked... Tobias.”

“Well, he and I kissed before. You know, back when we were dating... but those were very, very different. Totally different kinds of kissing! So, it made sense.”

“But we’ve kissed before, too,” Bryce smirked. “So, why didn’t you ask me?”

Casey returned his smirk with one of her own. “Do you want me to kiss you, Bryce?”

“No,” he snickered. “I’m just trying to understand your thought process in choosing Carrick.”

“I don't know... it just felt right...”

“Two times. It felt right... two times.”

“Yes! But we agreed not to do it again because we don’t want it screwing us up. We’re just friends... it didn’t mean anything!"

“So you've mentioned,” Bryce rubbed his chin. “But, Casey?”

“Yeah?”

“What if it does?”

Casey turned to him with as much panic if she had been a deer in the wild and Bryce's car was careening toward her on a dark night. “What... what do you mean?”

“I’m just saying... would it be so awful if the kisses meant something?”

“Bryce,” she gasped, lowering her voice even though they were alone. “No... I’m... I’m not ready for anything like that. And, besides... he’s just my friend... there’s nothing more to it.”

“Yes, for the dozenth time. He's just your friend,” he smiled. “Whatever he means to you, that’s for you to figure out... if you want to figure it out at all. I’m just saying, it’s your choice... and if you decide he does mean more, that’s all right, too.”

A slight crinkle appeared on her brow when she turned to Bryce, words she hadn't intended to speak falling from her lips.

“Do you... do you like him?”

“I’m just getting to know the guy... he’s more of your friend than mine. But I have to admit, he’s impressed me. He’s been really good to you, and you appear to make each other happy. Isn’t that what they say it’s all supposed to be about?”

“I... I guess... but we are just friends.”

“And you’re my friend, Casey. So if that’s what you say, I believe you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled in relief.

“Shit!” Bryce cursed, noticing the time on the clock. “I didn't realize it had gotten so late. I've got to get going; I have a date."

"Oh," Casey grinned. "Care to share the details?"

"Nope."

"Do I know them?"

"No comment."

“Uh-huh,” Casey teased. "I have my ways of finding out, you know! Just like Elijah can find out about his Captain Crunch."

"Are you seriously blackmailing me?"

"No," she shrugged. "I mean, I'm blackmailing you, but just for fun. Your secret is safe with me."

Delighted to see his friend bantering and laughing again, he pulled her into a hug.

“It is great having you back, Case. Promise me you won't go away again.”

“I’ll try not to," she said squeezing him tighter. "I promise.”

“And Case... about Carrick.”

“Bryce!”

“I know, I know, but listen! Sometimes, you overthink things way too much. Try not to do that... just... just go where you're happy. That's what it's all supposed to be about.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

“That’s all I ask,” Bryce said before heading to the door. “Well, that, and don’t tell Elijah about the Captain Crunch....”

Casey crossed her heart with a grin. “It’s our little secret."

~~~~~~

Just one more "warning" left. Thanks to those who are reading!

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart fanfic #choices fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #choices stories you play #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #bryce lahela #tobias carrick #tobias carrick & mc #tobias x casey #from here to there #with warning series

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