#seriously the brain rot is strong

[maggiebug-417]

So I’ve got a fandom theory on why Scar teamed with Jimmy and Lizzie

So I’m heavily thinking that WL!Scar and SL!Scar are the same person due to Scars references in session 1 and due to Scar not dying afterwards his win he spent his year or so wandering the Secret Life server in that year he missed every one on that server, but due to Lizzie, Jimmy, and Mumbo dying several sessions before everyone else dying in session 6 were as everyone else died in session 9

But due to Scar not dying after his win, he’s stuck there on the server until he dies, all by himself for a year, until the world starts resetting and changing around him, and one day he wakes up standing in a circle at the new spawn, all the people he’s missed for a year or longer there.

Him not seeing Jimmy and Lizzie for longer than the others is why he teamed with them, he missed them the most, Lizzie a fellow loner last time and a possible new Canary and Jimmy the previous Canary. He missed them the most and he the previous winner doomed by the narrative like them, he missed them and now he will try to keep them safe

Or at least that’s my interpretation, feel free to use it

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

✨blorbo wrapped✨ except I’ve been fixated on the same character for a whole year

Thank you @virgo-dream for this cute and fun template! If you guys want to do this here’s the link to Virgo’s blank template for your blorbo wrapped

[thespectralkitsune]

Some Uranium mons, just because I got bored :)

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Agent Peña

Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)

A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Are you sure this is the last box?” 

“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”

“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.” 

You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space. 

You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp. 

“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.” 

“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised. 

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment. 

“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!” 

“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture. 

“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again. 

“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle. 

“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip. 

“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.” 

“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…” 

“Osita…”   

“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.” 

“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed. 

“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened. 

“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi. 

Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker. 

Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.

 As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom” into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner. 

You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.

You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see. 

It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways. 

With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front. 

You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.

You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them. 

Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box. 

And holy fuck did he look hot. 

Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground. 

While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen. 

Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it. 

You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box. 

“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.

He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.

“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view. 

“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up. 

“Hermosa, are you okay?” 

“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.

But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind. 

Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade. 

“What’s going on, baby?” 

With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you. 

“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.” 

“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you. 

“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-” 

“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.” 

Oh, fuck me. 

“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?” 

“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it. 

“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body. 

“Like, right now?” 

“Like, right now.” 

Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest. 

“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.

As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.” 

“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat. 

“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room. 

“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal. 

You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming. 

“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…” 

“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function. 

“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further. 

“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”  

“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.  

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?” 

In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth. 

You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers. 

Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal. 

It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic. 

“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin. 

“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came. 

That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly. 

“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor. 

“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace. 

You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible. 

“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-”  You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him. 

Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure. 

“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.” 

You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear. 

“You still okay, Osita?” 

“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again. 

“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response. 

“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again. 

“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt. 

You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser. 

Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.” 

The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core. 

Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him. 

“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came. 

“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high. 

“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath. 

Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point. 

“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.” 

“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.” 

“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-” 

“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.” 

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics. 

“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.” 

“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?” 

“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.” 

“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.” 

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[hestzhyen]

An Extremely Subjective HakuHiro Romantic Trope Breakdown

Greetings, void. This arc is rough and the brainworms won't let me write my own hurt/comfort fan fiction- they demand half-baked analysis instead of lovemaking. So have the closest thing that passes for fluff from yours truly.

In essence, this is just a list of the explicitly romantic tropes I love applying to HakuHiro with varying degrees of gushing ship babble as justification. Some are definitely skewed hard towards headcanon but there's always at least a tenuous connection to something that's demonstrated in the work itself. Proceed if this kind of brain rot sounds like your jam! Otherwise just please let me die from cringe in peace.

Battle Couple

Offense and support working in perfect harmony.

So this is just one of my personal favourites, but Chihiro and Hakuri definitely have strong vibes for this trope. They fought together in an absolutely stunning display of mutual trust and understanding in the Rakuzaichi Arc. Seriously, these guys pulled off some truly spine-tingly good moves to take down Kyora despite Hakuri only just awakening to his powers the very same day.

They demonstrated this again in the train fight protecting Uruha- Hakuri and Chihiro only need the bare minimum of communication between them to fight in style. I look forward to more chances for them to show off their teamwork! If they end up fighting back-to-back in canon I'll probably just straight up ascend to fudanshi heaven on the spot. I LOVE BATTLE COUPLES.

Love at First Sight/Rescue Romance

"This is the kind of man I need in my life."

Love at First Sight is pretty self-explanatory: person A sees person B and immediately falls head over heels. It's easy to slap that on Hakuri in his introduction chapter- he's only missing an invitation to get to know each other over some coffee when they finally meet up, really. Unless asking someone to help you kill your family is the Kagurabachi universe's equivalent...?

As for Rescue Romance, it's another very simple scenario: person A is saved by person B, which causes them to fall in love. Chihiro saves Hakuri with the other random people at the site of Sojo's massacre attempt, and Hakuri... yeah. You get it.

I think there's a better trope to associate to this later on in the list, but Love at First Sight and Rescue Romance are still apt and very funny tropes to apply towards Hakuri's first impression of Chihiro. The way he waxed poetic over the mystery samurai who saved and inspired him had me in stitches. Seriously, my oldest notes on Hakuri from that chapter are mostly just laughing about him being really passionate about Chihiro for someone who's not intended to be a love interest! Go get 'im, Hakuri. He needs you in his life just as much as you need him in yours.

Mindlink Mates

Don't need to hear each other at all if you just "get" them.

This is something I like to apply as a Fanon concept based on what happens in canon. Hakuri and Chihiro aren't literally linked mind-to-mind via telepathy, but both of them have a deep understanding of what the other's thinking and feeling at any given moment. I really like the concept that they understand everything about each other on an instinctual level. It's mostly fueled by the Aun concepts that have been associated to them, which I'll get into during a later section. But yeah. Hakuri and Chihiro being borderline telepathic in how they can sense the other's status. That's crack cocaine to me and it's not too far removed from canon so I'm running with it.

I also really like the idea of their strong emotions and desires bouncing off of and amplifying each other's, but I don't know if there's a specific trope for that, so it gets placed here at the end of this tangentially related section. Also not something far removed from canon given how they both fuel each other's self-destructive savior tendencies because they feel the same way!

Moe Couplet

They're so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute

A Moe Couplet is essentially a pair of characters that enhance each other's cute traits. Separate, they are perfectly fine individuals with their own appeal. Together, they are adorable and capable of some tooth-rottingly sweet moments. This trope isn't typically associated with romantic duos in stuff aimed at general audiences, but it's common in BL as the basis for "fluff" works and wholesome pairings.

This is probably the biggest stretch to apply towards canon on the list, honestly. We haven't seen that much moe moe action from Hakuri and Chihiro- they're kind of busy fighting for their lives or hurting themselves to save others most of the time. But the few moments we get send me straight into cuteness agression-induced brain rot every time I think of them.

Most of this trope label for HakuHiro comes from little details. Like Chihiro often being shown reassuring Hakuri, and Hakuri getting some of the sweetest smiles out of him in return. Hakuri brings out Chihiro's soft side when Char's not around to do so and Chihiro helps Hakuri be his absolute silliest. These guys are are so good to each other! They melt the ice around my cold, dead heart into a slurry of hnnngh and incoherent shipper screeching.

What's it actually based on though? Well, I thought I was just doing normal delusional fudanshi things by thinking Hakuri is extra cute when he's around Chihiro and vice versa. But then Hokazono-sensei threw me a bone in an interview by saying he intended for Hakuri to "bring out Chihiro's personality and add some cuteness". And I. Just. I exploded into confetti on the spot. MOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

One True Love

This ship is not merely an OTP to me, if you haven't noticed.

Note: "ai" is not inherently romantic despite it being the end-goal of pretty much every romance novel out there. It's for deep, profound affection felt for someone- friends, family, even pets. It's rare and not commonly said aloud outside of the climax of a love story is all!

This is mostly tied to Hakuri's experience with love growing up and how he can find out what 愛 [ai, purest and deepest love], really means.

Hakuri probably has no fucking clue what love of any kind is really supposed to look or feel like, much less the ultimate form of it. His father threw ai around as something to manipulate his children into serving the family tradition. Soya used it as an excuse to torture him. This was deliberately done to contrast with the love that Chihiro knew growing up- true ai between father and son, which was cruelly ripped away from him.

So let Chihiro teach Hakuri, and Hakuri provide in return. They're already each other's perfect partners anyway so just put a romantic spin on it!

Hakuri finding unconditional love he doesn't fear in Chihiro and Chihiro finding the same in Hakuri once more. Neither of them ever needing to fall in love again because they slot together so perfectly to fill the gaps in each other's hearts. Oh I'm gonna die...

Opposites Attract

If not meant to be canon, why colour coded as opposite compliments? :thonk:

This is the trope that activates a primitive part of my brain that overrides all thoughts with eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee noises when it comes to HakuHiro. Hakuri and Chihiro are true opposites that are perfectly balanced to contrast and compliment each other, resulting in a duo greater than the sum of it's parts.

Hokazono-sensei made his intentions about Hakuri and Chihiro extremely clear by going so far as to colour code them for us. This is the protagonist and his foil/deuteragonist guy who is Important as Fuck. The level of detail in designing and writing them reads like he took this trope extremely seriously and said "let's save the Hero + Lancer coding for Hiyuki instead". 'Cause as much as I love her, Hiyuki's got nothing on Hakuri when it comes to this trope. Her thing is closer to being the same person as Chihiro with the opposite frame of mind and mode of expression- it's Hakuri and Chihiro who are the true manifestation of Opposites Attract down to the tiniest details. I'm ready to die on this hill so come at me and put me out of my misery.

I mean just look at these guys:

Chihiro: black and red, stoic, reserved, serious and polite, slim and straight profile.

Hakuri: white and blue, emotive, outgoing, silly and casual, loose and boxy profile.

They invert the same ways under pressure; Chihiro stresses and falters while Hakuri focuses and buckles down. Their fucking backstories are in on it too: they both lost their father's love but under distinctly opposite circumstances. Even the love they received was contrasted since Kunishige was a perfectly wholesome dad while Kyoura used love in an abusively manipulative way! And that laid the foundation for the premise of the Rakuzaichi arc- Hakuri wants to destroy his family's legacy while Chihiro still wants to do right by his. It would take a whole 'nother post to list everything between them because every single detail about one is carefully crafted to be present in the other in order to complete their characters. It's absolutely insane and it's what really sold me on the ship.

The level of care put into writing Hakuri and Chihiro as opposites who complete each other is out of this fucking world. I'll feel sorry for whatever girl gets assigned to be a mandatory heterosexual love interest for either of them because there's just no way to compete when two people are written to be so thoroughly intertwined with each other.

(To clarify just in case: I don't think Chiyuki is a bad ship. I'm not trying to trash it and say HakuHiro's better or more legitimate somehow. I just have an issue with shounen romance in general because the girls don't get nearly as much narrative effort to make them compelling companions to the MC compared to the "best friends" and Kagurabachi is doing nothing new in that regard so far. Hokazono-sensei can actually make a bigger impact by refusing to tease Chihiro and Hiyuki at all instead of going down the tired old path of obligated sub-par heterosexual ship tease/romance IMO.)

The Power of Love

Nice Heroic Second Wind you got after thinking about Chihiro there, Hakuri.

So this is definitely skewed towards pure delusion on my part, but that's what we're all here for anyway. Power of Friendship? Never heard of it.

Basically, person A uses their love for person B to power up and overcome the hardship they're facing. In this case, I'm interpreting Hakuri's tendency to think of Chihiro when he's in dire straits as romantic!

Hakuri comes in clutch a lot and his feelings abut Chihiro are the reason he can do it. The memory of his samurai refusing to yield gives Hakuri the strength to keep standing and finally put Soya down in chapter 36. He does it again in a sadder way in Chapter 58 when he thinks of Chihiro and musters the last of his strength to summon him too late to save Uruha. I have no doubt that he'll have more of these moments as the series goes on, too. Chihiro is kind of hope incarnate to Hakuri.

Chihiro's drawn strength from his feelings for Hakuri too, but not in a pinch kind of way like the Power of Love trope typically implies. I'm just waiting for the day when it's his turn to use memories of Hakuri to keep standing (never gonna happen)!

Ship Tease

Putting this here for lack of a better term, but there's a running gag about Hakuri and Chihiro's relationship that's been escalating in intensity since the early parts of the Rakuzaichi arc. It only comes across in bits and pieces in English compared to Japanese, sadly, but I'll do my best to explain it.

Basically, I'm interpreting the jokes about Hakuri acting like a dog as deliberate ship tease for the lols from the author.

"Paw. Shake. Good boy."

It starts in chapter 28 with Hakuri dropping everything he's doing to run over to Chihiro when his name is called. It's really cute and funny and not something that can get lost in translation- Chihiro calls, and Hakuri comes. Just like a loyal dog to it's master.

It's set aside for a while until the Sword Bearer Assassination Arc starts up and Hiyuki drops this banger during the trial in chapter 46:

"But where he [Hakuri] stands is a big pain in the butt. He's not the one calling the shots." - official TL

Of note is the term Hiyuki used to say that Chihiro's the one in charge: 舵取り [kajitori]. The normal meaning for it is "steering a boat" or "helmsman" with the secondary being leader/director, so it's not like the English TL messed up. Same meaning different wording. What's lost is the subtext: 舵取り as Hiyuki's using it can also imply that Chihiro's in charge of Hakuri like the owner of a dangerous guard dog would be lmao. Hakuri kind of earned that jab after threatening to leave her in the storehouse to die if she hurt Chihiro, though.

And then there's this completely unnecessary scene from Ch. 50...

"Who's this? This little squirt smells like Chihiro, but he's not Chihiro."- official TL

The TL again isn't bad here but it really downplays just how fucking weird Samura is (which downgrades the rocket propellant to mere ship fuel). Samura's phrasing about Hakuri smelling like Chihiro was so batshit insane in Japanese that fellow JP shippers felt compelled to reach out to the rest of us in English to let us know, which is almost completely unheard of.

Basically, Samura wasn't saying that Hakuri merely smelled like Chihiro. He actually said that Hakuri was wearing Chihiro's scent, completely enveloped in it to the point of smelling identical to him. A native JP reader (in the link above) said that in their interpretation, the word "まとって [matotte]" isn't really used for friends, but more for lovers, family members, or dogs and their owners in the sense that being so physically close all the time causes their scents to rub off on each other.

It's not a normal term used to describe smelling like someone in the first place. When Samura meets younger Chihiro in the flashback and says he "reeks of Rokuhira", he uses the typical word for "smell/scent" (香り [kaori]) in Japanese. So for some reason we just had to know that Hakuri smelled like Chihiro in the way dog or a lover would, huh... so much so that Samura thought he actually was Chihiro... (I can't get over this, it sends my sides into orbit every fucking time).

So yeah. That's some top-tier ship tease if I do say so myself. What that dog doin'? What did they get up to on the train before meeting with Uruha? That's for us to decide!

Soulmates

It's not exactly hard to see that Hakuri and Chihiro have a bit more going on between them than standard friendship or brotherhood, even for a shounen series. Even some dudebros acknowledged this before the fandom gave over to homophobic trash anyway.

It all stems from Hakuri invoking one of the most potent romantic tropes there is as soon as they meet:

"That day, a samurai lit my helpless existence on fire."

Jesus Christ Hakuri, that's some passion!

I think the "soulmates" trope is the most fitting description of what's going on between Hakuri and Chihiro from the very first time they meet. I'll even go so far to say that it actually has a pretty damn good case for being canon in a platonic sense!

For the uninitiated (like I was), the soulmates trope is invoked when two characters feel a strong and immediate connection upon first meeting each other. It can be one-sided or even completely rejected by both at the start, but they will always find their way to each other since they are fated to be. The whole world falls into kilter when they get together even if they were perfectly functional people on their own before. HakuHiro is this trope to a fucking T in my mind. Absolutely flawless execution, 10/10 no notes.

Hakuri's part is obvious- he sees Chihiro and decides he must have this amazing person in his life no matter what. He feels the pull of destiny and answers the call with an overabundance of enthusiasm.

Chihiro's part is more subtle. He does the one-sided rejection thing at the start by running away, but fate pulls them together via circumstance and he takes Hakuri back with him. And somehow, for some reason, Hakuri is the first person he opens up about his genuine feelings to in a surprisingly raw way:

"If I don't do something, and a sacred blade takes the lives of innocent people... I wouldn't be able to bear that..."

He met the guy minutes ago, tried to run away from him, then decided to bear his heart to him in the elevator. Chihiro's a natural stoic who doesn't show much of what he's feeling and generally keeps thoughts like this to himself. But Hakuri brings out this softer, more vulnerable side to him that no other character has before. Then as the arc progresses, Chihiro comes to rely on Hakuri more and more until it's crazy to think that he ever ran away in the first place. It's like they were always meant to find and save each other.

I'm not looking too hard at this with shipping goggles strapped to my face. We get confirmation that this is what's going on with them via The Word of God Himself:

From the Volume 4 description: 一方、兄からの愛と暴力によって地に伏��た伯理。今際の際に脳裏を過ったのは、ある少女との日々だった。極限の中、二人の少年の魂が呼応する。

"Meanwhile, Hakuri is struck down by his brother's love and violence. On the brink of death, he remembers the days he spent with a certain girl. In the midst of this extreme tension, the souls of both boys resonate with each other."

The last sentence is basically more total harmony/Aun imagery for Hakuri and Chihiro. 呼 (ko) means to call and 応 (ou) means to respond. Together, 呼応 means to act in concert. So Hakuri and Chihiro's souls call out and respond to each other in perfect sync when they're in dire straits. It's canon!

If that's not enough, then there's also the Aun imagery. It was left out of the EN Chapter 38 colour page as usual (never gonna forgive the EN version for removing the text), but basically the author used deliberate religious imagery to tell us that Chihiro and Hakuri have an inherently harmonious relationship. A and Un, in perfect sync- whatever one starts, the other will finish. The beginning and end of all things. A perfect pair.

They demonstrate this lethal effectiveness by working in tandem during the storehouse fight, with Chihiro only needing to yell Hakuri's name for Hakuri to perfectly interpret everything he's thinking and execute on it flawlessly. It's absolutely insane stuff even if we disregard Hakuri only woke up to his power less than an hour ago in-universe isn't it?! And they repeated the stunt the next day while protecting Uruha, so it wasn't just a one-off for a cool moment. It's core to their dynamic for their souls to resonate in total harmony!

And just to top it off, we got a funny little gag of Chihiro and Hakuri passing out and waking up at the same time side-by-side after the auction, totally in sync.

All of this within a week of meeting each other.

Some actual romantic soulmate couples don't get this much effort put into coding their relationship, just saying. I also don't think people would be so quick to jump on the sibling interpretation after Shiba's "What are ya, twins?" joke if Hakuri and Chihiro were a heterosexual ship option, just sayin'.

Unknowingly in Love

No sad pictures of dead Kunishige in this post!

This is another one that's far closer to fanon than canon. It banks on the fact that both of them grew up isolated and, quite frankly, probably poorly socialized compared to the rest of the world.

Chihiro lived with just his dad in a remote mountain home and only occasionally visited the town nearby with Shiba. No friends, no school even. Hakuri lived on the secluded Sazanami estate surrounded by his family and saw some of the outside world, but likely only the criminal elements of it. Plus there's the whole growing up only knowing love as something abusive and manipulative thing; even his parent's marriage was strongly implied to be arranged and joyless. Neither of these guys have anything decent in their personal lives to reference from!

So in my mind, while Hakuri and Chihiro have certainly heard of romantic love and thought about it themselves, they wouldn't really have an idea of what it feels or looks like to them. Couple that with being each other's first friends ever and you've got some extremely potent fluff (or angst) about them being unaware that what they're feeling isn't platonic.

You Are Worth Hell

I will follow you into the dark.

And to round things off, one of my favourite romance tropes ever! But it's not canon at all- YET.

You see, Hakuri and Chihiro are constantly pulling each other forward. When one stumbles, the other's there with a helping hand. But what happens when one descends into hell like Chihiro says he's doing this very arc? Will the other try to throw them a lifeline and hope for the best?

Nay! The other will stay by their side out of love.

This trope can veer too close to toxic situationship scenarios for comfort, it's true. Characters staying to "save" someone or letting themself get dragged down at their own expense is not healthy at all. But the core sentiment of this trope is that anything is bearable if you're with the one you love. The emphasis isn't on the mutual suffering but rather the comfort of being together despite it all.

My personal interpretation of the relationship between Hakuri and Chihiro is that one was born in hell (Hakuri) and the other has condemned himself to it (Chihiro). Hakuri's trying to rise up while Chihiro has consigned himself to sink further into the darkness. They met at at a crossroads on their respective journeys and are walking together for a while. And when Chihiro takes a turn to keep going further down, I think Hakuri will stop him from going too far. Hakuri will be the light in the gloom until the mission's over. Then they'll figure out if they can make it back up or not. And if they can't? Well, he was already at rock bottom before Chihiro came into his life. It's worth it to stay in hell at his side and face everything together.

So I think this can apply very well to HakuHiro as the current arc progresses. Hakuri choosing to stay as a partner to provide support rather than trying to save Chihiro at his own expense would be huge character growth for him. And Chihiro accepting Hakuri's gesture would be growth for him too- he doesn't have to do this alone. There's no truly Bad End for their stories if they are walking side-by-side to face the hardships together until the end.

That's it. If you got through all this, thanks. Yap at me about tropes I missed! I love hearing the myriad ways other people interpret this ship. Unless you think fixed left-right boring seme/uke stereotype ChiHaku is the only valid interpretation, in which case we can never be friends. Sorry not sorry.

[jasminsstories]

How finals week with Zayne by your side would be…probably:

gn!reader x zayne / fluff; just for fun, don’t take this seriously pls

will try to support you as much as he can, since he knows best how hard studying is

“I told you to start earlier than to cram the material in the last minute. It won’t stick in your long-term memory this way” “Zayne, I don’t care if it sticks in my long-term memory as long as I pass this exam”

“Come here and eat this before continuing”

Basically drags you daily to the kitchen table where he prepared healthy meals

“But why do only I have carrots in my salad?” “Because you need Vitamin B to stay fit for your exams” “Just say you gave all of your carrots to me, because you don’t like them!”

“If you continue to drink so much coffee, I am afraid I will see you in the ER soon because of arrhythmia… and I don’t want that” “Zayne, you can’t just hide my coffee machine!!”

opens the windows regularly to help you concentrate and makes sure you stay hydrated

definitely will try to lure you out for walks to get some steps in

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see the sunset?” “I do, I really want… but I have to get this done today” “Let’s go, you need some Vitamin D” *suddenly lifts you up bridal style* “Hey, let me down!!” *acts like he doesn’t hear you*

the more time passes and the deeper the night gets with every passing minute, you can’t stop yawning and rubbing your heavy eyelids; still you try to focus them on your bright notebook screen

“Go to sleep. You have to get enough sleep to function tomorrow as well” “I can’t afford to sleep now. Sleep can wait, the deadline for my essay won’t”

tries to get you to bed through various methods

first tries to make it less obvious and wants to make you jealous through your plushies

“Then Mr. Snowman will have to cuddle with me today..” “Mhmmm”

But quickly realizes that it doesn’t work and you don’t react to it

for his second try he sneaks up to you from behind and puts his hands on your waist, pressing a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear, whispering a tempting “Come to bed with me”

you try to stay strong though and ignore his attempt with the last endurance you have

the next time he comes up to your desk for his third attempt, he finds you asleep already, your face planted on the surface of your desk

he can’t hold back a chuckle and a fond glow is in his orbs as he gazes at your face; just looks at you for some minutes

carefully picks you up and carries you to bed, trying his hardest not to wake you up; whispers a “Good night, my angel” and gives your forehead a small kiss

tucks you to bed and will lay down beside you to watch you sleep

when you wake up the next morning you begin to panic because you weren’t able to pull the all-nighter you desperately needed to finish on time

“Breathe, Love. Don’t worry. You can do it, I know it”

“I look kinda like a Panda now with my dark circles, don’t I?” “Yeah…kinda. Maybe more like a raccoon”

when you are finally done with all of your exams and your essays, he will pat your head and smile proudly; “Good job, I knew you can do it”

with a relieved sigh you press a loving kiss on his lips

and now you can finally get revenge for the times he teased you

just the brain rot i have in my finals week. i am quite literally losing my marbles right now, so i needed some zayne fluff. did i write this instead of studying…maybe. i need this man so bad. actually working on a smut atm but since its been so long since i wrote one, it’s hard for me to get into the flow right now.

[truetogaia]

I simply am not able to can at the moment.

pairing: sub!loser!jake x fem!na'vi!reader

genre: smut, 18+

notes: sub jake brain rot is what led me to this, plus the fact that 2009 jake is such a loser, so: Jake finds himself in his first rut after a slight misstep while training with reader!

warnings: EXPLICIT AND MATURE THEMES! p in v, riding , no protection, Jake in rut, sex pollen, a sprinkle of overstim, bondage, loser bf vibez, pussy drunk jakey boo, dom kind of reader

wc: 1,7k!!

jake sully masterlist!

His legs ached, sore muscles tensing and cramping as he helplessly followed your figure through the jungle. He huffed and panted, grunted and mumbled a series of human curse words every time he accidentally stepped on yet another sharp object, concealed beneath the wild underbrush. Your figure disappeared every so often, hidden away behind majestically large leaves. 

Each one of your long strides carried you deeper into the lush of greens and blues, and you could hear the desperate wheezes, followed by heaves, from the foreigner so far behind you. You halted suddenly, causing Jake’s larger form to bump right into your back as he came hobbling after you. 

“Jake. Are you not taking this seriously?” Your voice was stern, awaiting an answer. Not only had you been assigned to babysit the newcomer, the loser, you had also been tasked with teaching him, which turned out to be painfully difficult. 

He confusedly rubbed his nose, a bit disoriented after having body slammed right into you. You turned around agonizingly slow, your patience had been running thin for the last couple of hours as Jake had shown no sign of improving, and this had been the final straw.

“If you do not even try, how do you think you will ever learn? Hm? Are all you aliens really this.. stupid?” You flicked him on his nose, earning a whimper from him as he rubbed it again. “Actually, do not answer that.” you paused, contemplating something as your hands began fiddling with the hem of your loincloth, “Why aren’t you learning anything? Is my teaching that bad?” His eyes widened as you averted your gaze, instead focusing it on a bug-like creature making its merry way across a trunk. 

“No, no of course not!” He waved his hands frantically while shaking his head like a madman, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been a bit distracted lately..” You lifted your gaze, locking eyes with him. They were big, round and full of worry, worry that he had offended you, worry that he had lost his chance with you. Oh how he had been pining after you, longing to be the one holding your heart. But you knew that, of course.

Your ears flicked, taking in the sounds of Jake’s thumping heart, picking up the change of pace as you looked deep into his amber eyes. His pupils were dilated, and his scent was strong. It washed over you, drowning all of your senses. 

His scent… It was different, something was off. It smelled sweeter than usual, more alluring than what it had yesterday. Your mind finally put two and two together when you noticed the sheer size of his pupils, the ones that you had been staring at all this time. It had happened so fast, too fast. 

“Jake..” You began, noticing how his tail swished as his name fell off your tongue, “You didn’t bump into anything weird when you were stumbling after me, did you?” He looked at you, confused, maybe dazed. 

“Not that I can think of..I feel a bit funny though, might be because of your ridiculously hard training.” Your ears flattened against your head, god he was stupid. He was so, so stupid. You now realized what he had done. Obviously, he had crashed into some weird, dangerous flower as he was chasing after you. Faysawtute.

“Oh my eywa. You really are stupid, aren’t you?” You sighed, dragging your hands down your face. There was only one solution to this problem, and it had to be done before it got too serious. He looked at you, so innocently, so oblivious to the shit he had gotten himself into. You suddenly grabbed his larger hand, pulling him with you.

His legs wobbled under him as he clung to your hand, careful not to trip on anything hidden in the thicket. The two of you finally reached a clearing, much to Jake’s delight, and as soon as you neared one of the trees, he slumped down against it, a sigh escaping him as he did. 

“Jake, we cannot stay here. We have to go.” You urged, desperately tugging on his arm. “Come on, skxawng.” He sighed deeply and tried to get up, but to his surprise, he couldn’t move. He felt stuck in place, as if the grass around him had enveloped his being,pulling him desperately back into the soil. Soon, an unknown heat spread throughout his body, starting at his core. As it wandered, it left a trail of goosebumps in its way. His mind felt cloudy, as if a thick mist covered it, filling in every gap inside his head. 

Jake couldn’t hear your pleas, too busy focusing on the foreign, buzzing feeling in his fingertips, that was steadily increasing together with the heat pooling in his abdomen. He had no clue what was going on, all he knew was that you had never looked so beautiful before. Your hair, so neatly styled, moved like waves in the subtle breeze, the sun casting a gloria upon your head as it shone brightly behind you. The immense, secret love he felt for you turned into something more; he wanted to feel you, all of you. 

You noticed the way the fabric of his loincloth expanded, cursing yourself for not having had a proper lesson about Pandora’s flora and fauna before you ventured into the deeper parts of the forest. If you wanted to be home by tonight, you seemingly had no choice but to help him right here, right now.

“Alright, Jake, I need you to listen to me.” You slowly knelt down, trying your best to keep from accidentally startling him. “Based on the look on your face, and the bul.. Yeah.. anyway, I think you inhaled some sort of pollen that sends na’vi into heat.” He looked up at you with lidded, droopy eyes. “Basically, what I'm saying is that if you want to get home today, I'm gonna have to help you.” Gradually, you inched your way closer to him, grabbing a vine from the forest floor.  “Are you okay with that?” 

Jake nodded as you carefully reached for his wrists, tying them together with a sturdy knot. He didn’t fight it, surprisingly enough, instead holding perfectly still as you creeped up into his lap. 

Once you had settled down, long legs on either side of his thighs, you readjusted yourself. The outline of his dick was prominent through his loincloth, and it was big, making you dread your next actions. 

⭒

The sticky, lewd sounds of slapping skin filled the murky forest, accompanied by the soft noises of a male na’vi. You bounced up and down Jake’s length, having secretly succumbed to the feeling of his thick cock grazing your velvet walls. Jake’s breathy moans filled your ears as his head was thrown back, resting against the bark of the supporting tree. 

The muscles in his abdomen flexed at his desperate efforts to rut his hips into yours, completely drunk on the way your cunt enveloped him so deliciously. And just as you suspected, he fought against his restraints, tugging hopelessly at the vine binding his wrists. 

“There we go, does it feel good?” He swallowed, nodding frantically as you grinded torturously slow on him. His cock was rock hard, aching painfully. “Use your words, Jake..” You could see that he was struggling; his pants came uninterrupted, the only pause being to moan as you clenched around his girth. 

“Fhuhckk.. yes s’good.. shiiiit,” His voice wavered, deeply affected by the immense pleasure he felt, “plea.. damn- please, I’ll be so g..good, keep going..”

He was buried so deep inside of you, his bulbous tip kissing your spongy spot with each roll of your tired hips, making stars appear in front of your eyes. You collected your mind, set on taking control of the situation, making sure to remind yourself of why you were even doing this to begin with. For safety reasons. 

For safety reasons…

But you just couldn’t help savoring the feeling of his heavy cock dragging in and out of your squelching heat. 

Jake, on the other hand, couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe that he was watching you squirm and twitch on top of his cock. It felt heavenly. The warmth in his chest was consuming, clouding his judgment. He knew you only did this to help, he had heard it from your lips himself. But something came over him. The raw, overwhelming urge to kiss you flooded his mind, and he couldn’t stop the words from escaping him. 

“Kiss me, please..” 

Much to his surprise, your response was the opposite of what he had expected.  

“Yeah? You want a kiss? Sure, pretty boy.” You leaned down, hastily connecting your lips with his. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth, a groan infiltrating it. You could feel him getting close by the way his cock twitched inside of your cunt, and by the way he begged for the sweet release as soon as you broke the kiss. 

“Gonna be a good boy and cum? Hm?” His mouth fell agape at your words, eyes fluttering shut as you picked up your pace. He was a blubbering mess, chanting your name along with every curse word in the book. You felt a twinge of guilt in your chest as you watched him whine and thrash beneath you.

He bucked his hips up, so turned on he could no longer form whole sentences. Not being able to hold back, he came, hard and deep inside of your throbbing pussy. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, mind still elsewhere. He soon noticed that you hadn’t stopped, panicking slightly as your gyrating hips overworked his cock.

“Please, too much.. t’hurts, hnghh” You continued bouncing on his, still hard, cock, pace utterly relentless. His whines and sobs were like music to your ears as you now chased your own high, the volume of your moans only increasing.

“please..” 

You finally came to a stop, cunt clamping down on his girth and spasming as you came around his overstimulated length. He cried out, looking up at you with such a tired and confused expression. 

You grabbed his face with your hands, placing a gentle peck to his sweaty forehead before leaning your own against it. 

“There, all better now, yeah? You were such a good boy.”

HEEELP THIS IS SO BAD IM SO SORRY YALL I HAVEN'T EDITED IT THOROUGHLY. My original plan was to include a mommy kink, but as I was writing it I realized it didn't really work. So UNTIL NEXT TIME!!

[6lostgirl6]

I’m having a bit of bill skarsgård brain rot, lmaooo. Can you do a yandere alphabet for the marquis from John wick

Yandere Alphabet - Vincent de Gramont

TW: Yandere themes, Mentions of Torture, Mentions of Arguments, Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced-Marriage, Spankings as Punishment, Overprotective Vincent, Controlling Vincent

A/N: Please inform me if I did not tag something correctly. Please know the difference between fictional and reality. While fictional, these types of relationships are extremely toxic, especially in real-life. If your relationship is showcasing these toxic behaviors, please seek help from someone to get out safely. Reblogs are heavily appreciated!!

Gif Credit: @mndvx

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Vincent's love languages are gift giving and acts of service. He's used to money and connections being the answer for everything and that includes how he shows his affections for you. It would be very intense, he would practically shower you in riches if you allowed him. Whatever you wanted was yours and he has the means of making it happen.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Vincent is all about efficiency. Whatever directly concerns his darling, he would need it to be handled immediately with little to no waste, effort, or energy. He would have his men handle it or deal with it himself, it depends on the situation. He dislikes messes, however, if someone were to kidnap you, harm you, or touch you, it would be a different story.

If you were harmed, he would return it ten-fold. Remember the scene between him and Nobody with a knife to the hand? Yes, he's willing to get messy for that. If his men are handling it, he would watch and enjoy it.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Once abducted, he would treat you like royality, since you're his sweet darling. No, he wouldn't mock you because that's childish in his eyes. He understands it is a difficult situation, but he would expect you to adapt sooner rather than later. He can only be patient for so long.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

There are many things he wouldn't allow you to do with the sole purpose of protecting you. You'll have to ask for his permission for many of these things, but he isn't unreasonable. If you want to go shopping, take a walk, there's must always be someone with you. You'll either be escorted by him or his men when he's busy. Your privacy will become nonexistent.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Vincent would be closed off in the beginning, he would need to trust you completely before he can open his heart to his darling. However, once he trusts his darling completely, he will open up about many things, however he will keep things from you. For instance, he wouldn't want his darling involved with his "occupation" and the things he's done. His vulnerability is strong when he completely trusts you, he's not against telling you his feelings.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Vincent can be patient and might even find his darling fighting back amusing. However, that patience can slip away very easily if the fighting persists. He would feel somewhat betrayed from his darling's behavior. He risked your safety to have you in his life and home and this is how you repay him?

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, this is not a game to him and he takes it very seriously. Again, he risked your safety to have you in his life, the risk of someone using you against him. He may find his darling trying to escape humorous during the first few attempts, but it would be in your best interest to quit. He won't find it humorous anymore.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

His darling's worst experiences with him would be his outbursts and controlling behavior. Vincent's patience only goes a certain way until he explodes. Fighting against him would result in him yelling at you angrily and breaking things. For example, when Vincent broke his phone after speaking with Nobody. I believe that Vincent would break things when he's angry or overstimulated enough.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Vincent wants to experience everything with his darling. His darling is his significant other, therefore he envisions marrying his darling and having children to continue the next generation. He'll force you to marry him if he has to.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He can be extremely jealous, however it is not because of insecurity. He doesn't like anyone thinking they have a chance with his darling without going through him first. He doesn't need to cope being the Marquis, he can have that person killed if he wanted and it will happen. Yes, he will lash out in his own way.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He's extremely protective and affectionate with his darling. He can be charming when he wants, hand kisses, arm around the waist, gentle caresses, he will do it all for his darling. His darling always has his attention, even if he's busy. If you're on his good side, it's all romantic.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Vincent would do things behind the scenes, make his darling think they have a secret admirer, which is true. He would secretly send you romantic letters and expensive gifts. He would have his men secretly follow you around and get information to bring back to him. He wants to learn everything about you and prepare before abducting you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely, Vincent would be completely different with others compared to his darling. His darling is the only one that gets the sweet side of him while he remains aloof with others.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He would take away rights everytime you go against him. For instance, you would no longer be allowed to leave the mansion anymore, no matter how many times you try to appease him. He would need to see improvement first. Plus, he's not against putting his darling over his knee and spanking you until you're red.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He would take away some rights from his darling and his darling would need to have his approval for things. For instance, you're not allowed in the kitchens or leaving the mansion without him or a bodyguard and your personal belongings are always monitored. For your protection of course ❤️

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Well, he would have a little more patience with his darling than with others. He'll let his darling off easily the first few times, but it would quickly change because he would assume that his darling is being ungrateful and disrespecting him and his wishes.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Absolutely not. Vincent would never be able to move on if something happened to you. If you died, he would remain heartbroken for the rest of his life. If you escape, that'd a different story, you will return to him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He would never feel guilty for kidnapping his darling and it never crossed his mind that what he did was wrong. He has individuals killed for a living, kidnapping his darling wouldn't be any different. He would simply try to make you understand that what he did was necessary. He would never let his darling go, you would have to kill him first.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

I would assume his childhood and the things he deals with as the Marquis. He's used to having everything he wants, call him spoiled.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Vincent would feel disappointed about your behavior, especially when this is a reoccurring problem. However, he still loves you and would want to fix this as soon as possible. He would try to comfort you as much as he knew how. If you were upset about being restrained to the mansion, he'll take you outside. He would explain to you that this was only for your protection and he only wanted the best for you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Vincent isn't sadistic, at least towards his darling and values their feelings. He actually likes communication, you can be open with him about anything because he prefers your honesty than lying and disobeying him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He's used to getting what he wanted and gaining his complete trust would give his darling advantages. He would let his darling have more privileges and his darling can use that in an effort to escape. However, his trust is a long process so you'll need to play the waiting game. Be obedient and docile and you'll have him eating from your palm.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He absolutely loves his darling and willing to do anything for them. He'll buy anything you want if it meant gaining your affections. He has money and connections, he'll make it happen.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He'll pine for his darling for a few months, gaining information on them and preparing his home for his darling's arrival before he snaps. Whenever he wants something, he has to have it soon or now. Again, he's spoiled.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, he would.

Spam Liking w/o Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bloodywickedvamp @daddy-issues-99 @kirishimasfiance @bigcreatorwombatdreamer

[corrodedbisexual]

The original plushie

Steddie | G | ~4.1k | AO3 link

This fanart of Eddie sleeping with a bunch of stuffed toys by @baleful-blurbs infected my brain and refused to leave until this ridiculous fluffy thing got written 😭 Please make sure to reblog those wonderful sketches to support the artist who inspired the plushie silliness♥️

Featuring: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, seriously beware of cavities, Light Angst, Plushies, Childhood Memories, POV Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Requited Love, Cuddling, Getting Together, Boys In Love

The mortifying ordeal of Eddie's crush discovering his secret plushie cuddle nest turns out to be not so mortifying after all. Steve even starts borrowing said plushies to take back home with him; some time later, Eddie finds out why.

Snippet under the cut

“Who’s this?” Steve asks, grinning as he pokes at the teddy’s ridiculous smiley face. 

“Oh. That’s… that’s Mr. Boogers.” Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. “Please don’t ask.”

Still grinning, Steve turns to him. “Well, now you know I gotta.” 

Eddie groans, rubbing a hand across his flustered face, and figures he might as well tell the story now that he’s dug his own grave. “He was, uh… kinda defective from the start, there were some stitches loose around his nose and there was stuffing coming out of it, like… well…”

Steve giggles. “Boogers. Gotcha.” 

“Yeah. Wayne grumbled about it and wanted to ask for a different one, but I was already in love with this one and clung to him and refused to trade. Cos like, you know how plushies of the same type are supposed to be identical but they’re really not ? And one of them has that perfect face and the others just seem off?” 

Eddie blushes, thinking now would be the moment he finally gets ridiculed for being twenty years old and having strong opinions on plushie faces of all things, but Steve just smiles and nods.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I once spilled some gouache on a Mickey Mouse I owned and instead of washing him, mom just bought me a new one of the same series.” Steve sighs. “It was obvious 'cos his eyes were a little closer together and his smile wasn’t crooked to the left. I knew he wasn’t the same Mickey.” 

Again, Eddie’s heart aches for little Steve, like pretty much any time the boy reveals stories from his childhood in a tone too lighthearted for the words spoken, in Eddie’s opinion. Rich people really don’t value anything, huh. (With Steve being the obvious exception.)

“Yeah, see? You get it!” Eddie exclaims, pointing at Steve and putting more excitement into the words than he feels. Mostly, he just feels relieved and pleasantly surprised at how unexpectedly he and Steve managed to bond over their shared fondness for their childhood toys. “So anyway, Wayne relented and we took this funny guy home, my uncle patched him up, but the nickname stuck. Mr. Boogers. Boogie for short.”

Steve laughs again, but there’s nothing malicious about it as he looks back to the teddy in his lap and flicks his ear.

“Nice to meet you, Boogie,” he says with an affectionate smile that makes Eddie want to burrow his face into the mattress and giggle like an idiot. 

And maybe scream a little, because what the fuck. It should be illegal for your crush to talk cute to your goddamn childhood plushies.  

Whole fic on AO3

[valrayne-faeu]

Hi! The brain rot for this AU is still going strong and I have another question. So, we know that Nightmare and Dream don't really get along now, but was there ever a time when they did? How would they have acted with each other when they were younger/before the curse?

they were incredibly close when they were younger! they did everything together up until they were young adults. as their ideas for how they would rule the Seasonal Court started to differ, and the factions of courtiers’ manipulations increased, they started to drift apart. they began to disagree on many things but still got along for the most part, though tensions ran high and they began to argue often.

when Nightmare realised just how far the courtiers were going to maintain their power, even planning to use Dream and himself as puppet rulers, is when things came to a head. Dream didn’t take Nightmare’s concerns seriously, only seeing the courtiers as the fae that raised them and looking out for their best interests. he couldn’t yet see how far the courtiers had influenced his thinking and even his relationship with his brother.

this resulted in Nightmare trying to claim his half of the previous Queen’s power (by eating an fruit of her tree) and prove that he could be a capable king on his own… to disastrous results. only the true ruler(s) of the Court could claim her power, and as he wasn’t a crowned king yet he was afflicted with a curse, and Dream accidentally shot both him and the tree with an arrow. this is when the conflict really escalated.

Dream had badly hurt his brother and split the tree in twain, symbolising the rift in their relationship and also splitting the Court’s magic; in the coming years eventually the magic would settle as Summer and Winter. Nightmare left with those fae loyal to him, killing or banishing the courtiers closest to him and leaving to settling in the castle furthest from the Seasonal Court as he could— this would eventually become the Winter Castle.

by the time Dream realised the extent of the courtiers’ manipulation and outcast them, it was too late. Nightmare asserted himself as a king in need of a kingdom and established harsh borders. unable to compromise with him, Dream was similarly crowned king and the war began. it took centuries of fighting over territory and resources before a truce was established, and centuries still for tensions to calm and peace to reign.

now there is casual movement across borders, Summer/Spring fae living peacefully in Winter/Autumn and vice versa, and even some tourism. every 5 years there’s a big party to celebrate the peace; the Courts alternate between who hosts, with the fae of the other travelling and staying in the host court for weeks of revelry.

Dream and Nightmare’s relationship never really recovered. they’ll be vaguely civil with each other during events and send letters back and forth every so often to keep each other updated on important matters, but they haven’t been friends since that arrow was fired. still, sometimes Nightmare will find himself chuckling at a funny remark Dream makes during a gala, and it feels like maybe someday they can be brothers again.

[cerastes]

I’m thinking of how, in OpRec 2, Laurentina knows she has very limited time as herself before her brain deteriorates and she loses her reason again and becomes the “Specter” again. She has few precious hours as herself after years of being trapped in her own mind due to the experiments and the insane amount of pure liquid Originium Amaia and Quintus injected directly into her spinal cord.

She uses a bit of this time to spend it fighting a battle alongside Misery (who insisted she doesn’t need to help him but definitely welcomed the aid since apparently the situation was pretty bad), because in fighting, she can remain useful, in her own words. Skadi insists she hurry back to Rhodes Island, to which Specter says it’s pointless, because equipment on the surface simply cannot help her, only keep her alive, so she takes her sweet time fighting alongside Misery, and Skadi and Gladiia (the latter reluctantly) join.

She allots some more of her time to having a proper talk with Closure, answering as many questions as she can, both about herself and about Closure, but mainly, what she wanted to say was “do not change the way I’m treated. You know me as Specter, you have protocols around the Operator Specter. Retain them. I have to go.”

She talks with a very concerned Skadi and an unflinching but still upset Gladiia, but she already had time with them on the way back. The final person she wanted to talk to before her brain gave out again? Doctor. Explicitly because she predicted Closure and Doctor may take more care on her handling, maybe remove her from combat operations in order to more closely monitor her condition. This is exactly what she didn’t want.

Because end of the day, Laurentina is a Hunter. She finds it difficult to speak as surface dwellers do, she finds it almost nonsensical, and so, she demands, “Keep me in the fight, Doctor. We do not need words, we need only you having a clear objective and me, my orders. If you put me in a bed and out of the battlefield, you are denying me the last shred of identity I can cling on”.

Because she couldn’t sculpt, she couldn’t sing, she couldn’t even control her own body, if she was even conscious. The only thing that she could do to cling to being who she was...

...Is to at the very least be pointed towards an enemy to fight them, and pointed towards an ally to protect them.

Skadi believed Laurentina had died prior to the events of the game because this isn’t the first time she had done this: In order for the 3rd Squadron to advance towards Ishar’mla, the 2nd Squadron, Gladiia and Laurentina’s, practically sacrificed themselves covering for the 3rd. 

She never blamed Skadi, and makes sure she knows it. She didn’t mind doing it again now, either. “Point me at the one I have to cut, put the ones I need to keep safe behind me, and give the order. Even if am completely lost in the darkness of my mind and madness of my heart, that, that will never leave me. That’s proof that I am Specter, that I am Shark, and that I am Laurentina. I, namely, I.”

As far as she knew, these were the last words she’d ever get out as herself. She used to make it very clear: “Do not deny me the only bit of purpose and identity I have left, because even if I am but a shell of myself, I’m still me.”

Of course, we now know that this was not to be her final fate, and she did manage to regain control, decisively, eventually, but... As far as she and Skadi and Doctor knew, at this point, this was really, really it. The briefest of encounters with the real Specter, on borrowed time. And her intent? To make sure she’s not left to rot in a medical room where she’s useless, gathering dust: “Put even more danger upon my share”. You know you are dealing with a seriously terrifying and strong person when they can confidently tell you (and have verifiably, so far, done as much) that even if it’s just a shell of her former self out there, she can and will never stop doing exactly what she’s good at, because otherwise, at that point, she truly has left the world.

[cstlez]

can u do a mafia smut where toms in his 2011 era with a fem reader and he fucks her under a table while on call with his opponents pleasee if not then im fine with jst smut.

no, yes, yes i can! i had to go read a couple things for inspiration tho! (i’ve never written mafia..)

this is lowk tweaked cus idk!

(banner is a joke i needed a giggle!)

i think i missed the point! but still, hope you enjoy!

anyways, enjoy!! :3

———

EAGER

warnings! : smut, (obv!),strong language, mentions of smoking, (dk what else)

;

Tom is always, and will always be an absolute thoughtless, good-for-nothing asshole, though, calling him good-for-nothing would be a laughing matter because having him around, is an automatic save.

He also almost always, wants to fuck, when he’s proud, when he’s not, when he’s frustrated, annoyed, but, you don’t mind.

Secretly, you relinquish in the restless fucking, whether it’s a quickie, or not, you love every minute and moment of it.

He rotted the good in you but maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You walked into Tom’s office, the very familiar sound of tapping and smell of smoke overwhelming your senses in mere seconds, immediately you were welcomed by the sound of his screaming, you winced, debating whether or not you should even be in there.

The cybersecurity major resided in his office, worriedly typing away on his laptop, pushing in his glasses every few seconds, you raised a brow, walking over to his desk, you slipped onto it, crossing your legs, he looked at you through his lashes, he spun his chair around, ignoring you completely.

“His IP, track it.”

“Yes sir.”

You scoffed, watching as he gripped his phone like it was an animal, he was fuming, just about seconds away from shooting someone.

“Kill one of my men again, and I'll slaughter you and any remaining heir that exists under your name. You owe me Red. You fucking owe me!"

You looked at your hands, waiting, somewhat patiently but not really. He huffed in annoyance, his teeth gritted, his tongue gliding along his lips finding his lip piercing to fidget with. He hung the phone up, almost instantly chucking it across his office, You hissed, pretending not to notice the ongoing tension within the atmosphere.

"Sir, I found him sir. He's headed for Bahnhofsstraße." He spun around his laptop, revealing the markings of Red and his team, he was right, they were headed for Bahnhofsstraße. Your only question was why, though Tom seemed to know.

"Fuck, seriously!? Call Bill, Tell him to head there now. Now!" He scoffed, he ran his hand down his face, a few seconds passed and he begun rushing to get a team out. You opened your mouth to speak but he shut you down within seconds. "You're staying here-" You cut him off, to speak, "My uncle-" He scoffed slamming his fist on the desk. "I don't care! You will only slow me down. Stay here."

-

The clock inside of your bedroom ticked ferociously. Every tick standing for another long second. You skimmed through yet another book from the library, your brain fogged from everything possible.

Though the profound "peace" instantly came to an end when Tom burst through your door, no knock, no warning, nothing. Immediately you set your book down, you raised a brow in annoyance, sitting up as he inched near you.

"What the fuck Tom!"

He looked jagged, his eyes displaying just how tiresome the day must've been. The first thing he did was grip your wrist, grabbing you as if you'd run from him. He kissed you with absolute desire. Like he'd been aching for it.

He shoved you against the bed frame his body engulfing yours entirely, You pushed him away, only momentarily to find words to speak. "You're supposed to call for me-" He pushed himself closer, biting down on your tender skin, his tongue sucking the skin on your neck with such experience it made you ache.

"I don't care." His voice was shallow, it made every single bone in your body ache, he pressed his lips against yours yet again, this time speeding up the process. His body grinded against your, the obvious difference in your strength was something you were used to but everything always became a blur the moment you felt his weight above you.

You could sense the anger and annoyance he held, the eagerness with no apparent attachment. He undressed you even quicker then he had undressed himself, his hands trailing and gripping your body, you squirmed with pleasure as he pushed himself inside you, his relentless strength consuming you. Your eyes grew half lidded, hiding the pleasure in your throat, he groaned impatiently, his hand trailed down your body as he aggressively slammed himself into you, his thumb pressed hardly onto your clit making you swallow dryly, at last a whimper left your lips, he grinned, leaning over you.

He grabbed your face tightly, brushing his thumb across your face, the flush of your cheeks made him mad, he trailed kisses from your jaw all the way to your collarbones. He shoved himself in deeper, his nails digging into your hips, "Don't go acting innocent now- I like you because you're a slut. You're anything but innocent." You dug your nails into his back grabbing him by his braids. "Fuck you." His grin widened, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he fucked you senseless.

His mouth trailed down to your chest, sucking your nipple with yet again, so much experience, you always wondered how much people he might've needed to fuck to get so good at it. He pulled away, the sight of his darkened eyes and swollen lips could've made you finish alone.

He gripped your hips, flipping your bodies over, he guided you, forcing you to move, with every thrust of your hip he grew more and more relentless, his hands grabbing you with every ounce of strength he had, you moaned as you grew close, you wanted to wince at how tightly he held your hips but the pleasure overcame the pain. He threw his head back thrusting upwards until he found what he was looking for.

You both moaned in pleasure, gripping at each-others bodies, he pulled you against his chest, kissing you as he fought back moans and the urge to moan your name. He bit down on your bottom lip, cupping your ass. His dick twitched inside you as you clenched around him, he let out an exasperated sigh, his eyes melted into yours as he slowly pushed you off him. Leaving you with his scent lingering in the air.

[fictionfawn]

thoughts about abby anderson bc i've been having really bad brain rot (some water polo player!abby)

abby isn’t the biggest fan of large displays of PDA, but she does this thing where she just hovers around you. she never strays too far away from you, so she’s just kind of lurking lol. when you’re walking together, she’ll either put her hand on your shoulder or your back and subtly guide you. (tbh i also do that. gotta treat my babygirl right fr). i don't think you'll hold hands too often, mostly because her hands are kind of sweaty due to her naturally running quite hot. if you try, she'll laugh and say, "don't. my hands are sweaty." like ok? just wipe them off girly, i wanna hold your hand. i think she likes linking arms, though. she eats it up when you hold onto her arm and cling onto her, she loves it. despite not liking pda, she takes every opportunity to subtly touch you. brushing arms when you're walking, touching thighs because you're sitting so close to each other, one hand on your knee, stuff like that. she's seriously borderline clingy, but she's always so gentle. she's so cute omg

i think that abby likes to be pampered. specifically, i think she likes it a lot when you play with her hair. brush it, wash it and tie it when she’s too tired to do it herself. start running your fingers through her hair and massage her scalp and she’s immediately putty in your arms. she’ll most likely insist on doing it herself, but if you push back she’s not going to argue further lol. do what you must, she’ll enjoy it

when it comes to pet names, i think she'll only really use them when there's no one else around. however, occasionally there are times where it'll just slip out. i don't know why, but i think she'll call you bug pfft. she'll come up from behind saying, "there you are, bug. i've been lookin' for you," as she kisses your temple and you can feel her smiling mhmm. if she's taller than you, she likes to rest her chin on your shoulder. wait omg, imagine her calling you trouble. but lorddd she'd use so many nicknames, i think. babe, honey, hun, sweetheart etc etc. the girl has some variety, I’ll give her that

PERSONAL TRAINER ABBY! unfortunately, she can be such a dick lmao. if you're struggling with an exercise or with lifting weights, she'll just be watching you and laughing to herself. "you need some help with that, hun?" and you're whining at her to stop laughing and to hurry up and help you out. but she's so helpful and strong and attractive you can't stay mad at her for too long. like she'd grab your waist and fix your stance and when you get it right she’ll say something like “yeah, that’s it. you got it." she's always gonna encourage you to keep going. she'll really push your limits because she just wants you to do well. but this applies to lots of other things, not just gym. i honestly probably wouldn't be able to go to the gym with her because i'd be distracted by her the entire time. so.

playing fighting with abby. she gets so competitive and will do literally everything in her power to win. she's the furthest thing from a sore loser, thankfylly. she’s very conscious of her strength, so despite the fact that she’s literally able to toss you around like a bag of potatoes, she’s never hurt you by accident. she’d genuinely be so mortified if she thinks she hurt you. will literally sulk about it meanwhile you’re like “abby, I’m fine??”

she's always very relaxed whenever she's around you. i can't say she'd be smiley when there are other people around, but she'll have a kind of pleased and content expression on her face. but when you're alone? oh boy, have fun trying to wipe that cute ass smile off her face, because you can't! she's just very at ease when you're around teehee. her demeanour is a lot less tense than what it may be typically. honestly I think she’d just melt around you

abby isn't the biggest gossip around--if you ask her, she'll just shrug and say that that kind of stuff isn't something she's particularly interested in. however, she is absolutely invested in whatever gossip you have for her, even if she pretends to be nonchalant about it. she'd probably say some bullshit like, "babe, that kind of stuff isn't even worth your time." but then the next time she sees you she asks about it because she wants an update. talks shit but doesn’t consider it to be real gossip. “it’s called a discussion, not gossip.” she’ll say, like a fucking liar

she’s SO invested. always asking for updates, always asking questions. she tries to be subtle but honestly at some I’d think she’d give up and go all in

waterpolo player abby !

you literally cannot drag her away training so as a result she always smells like chlorine. she bitches about it all the time, too.

she’d look stupid as hell wearing the hats lmao i'd call her egghead or something

she definitely complains about how damaged her hair gets from all that swimming she does

idk about you guys but soggy Abby does something to me… like she's wearing her swimming costume and her hairs down and she’s still damp and you can see the water droplets on her skin and AAAAAAHJASHIEDQHV

don’t even try pushing her into the pool because she’ll drag you down with her lmao

she'd definitely be centre forward REAL

she could try drowning me and I wouldn’t really mind tbh. but ik for sure she’s a scary ass player. fast AND strong as hell? I’d be fighting for my life. make sure u don’t get hit in the head by a ball thrown by her bc you’d be asking for a concussion. also she seems like the kind of person who keeps elbowing people?? LMAO

my gay ass needs to be locked up NOW 😟

[drewharrisonwriter]

Friends Without Benefits

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

Word Count: 10.5k words

Warnings: strong language, heavy flirtation, sexual tension (no smut--can you believe it??), mentions of past affairs and scandals, alcohol consumption, references to Dieter’s reckless behavior, mentions of drug use, emotional vulnerability, humor, inappropriate jokes (because, Dieter!), legal contract about not fucking

A/N: Okay, I know what you're thinking… another Dieter fic? Yeah, I know—it’s like my fourth one, so clearly, the brain rot is real, and I’m trying to get it out of my system (seriously, I’m trying… sort of). I know I haven’t updated Lifeline in a hot minute, but we’ll get to that later, lol. This fic is a little different from the usual—there’s a lot more fluff and friendship stuff, but I really enjoyed playing with the dynamic of two people who could totally cross the line but decide not to (because, honestly, it’s working for them as is). Also, apologies for any typos—I tried proofreading, but doing it on my phone isn’t exactly ideal. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, or just by simply commenting or reblogging, it would mean the world to me. 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

It started with a rejection email.

Not the kind that offered hope for future opportunities, but the type that crushed your spirit in one curt sentence:

"We regret to inform you that your application for the Screenwriting Development Program has not been accepted."

She read it over twice, then a third time, hoping something had been missed. A reason, some constructive feedback, anything. But it was just a copy-paste response sent to dozens—maybe hundreds—of other hopefuls like her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and put the laptop to sleep.

The screen faded to black, reflecting back an image she barely recognized anymore: tangled hair, circles under her eyes, and the lingering trace of a smile she hadn’t used in days.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “I didn’t need it anyway.”

That was a lie.

The Screenwriting Development Program was her shot, her dream, the chance to step out of her day-to-day grind and into the world she’d always wanted. A world where she wrote stories that people would actually care to hear.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. In fifteen minutes, she had to be at the diner. She grabbed her apron off the back of a chair and stuffed it into her bag before heading out.

As usual, the shift was long. And slow. She spent most of her time refilling coffee for the regulars and plastering on a smile that barely reached her eyes. The rejection lingered like a dark cloud, reminding her how close she was to giving up completely. By the time her shift ended, she was so exhausted that she didn’t even change out of her uniform. She just grabbed her bag and headed out into the night.

The long walk up to her apartment felt heavier than usual. It wasn’t until she reached her front door that the next wave of despair hit her like a punch to the gut.

An eviction notice.

She stared at the paper taped to her door, her heart sinking.

“Great,” she whispered bitterly, ripping it off and crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into her bag.

Four weeks. She had four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street.

Later, she sat on her couch in her underwear and a camisole, trying to ignore the cold chill of the eviction notice that still hovered at the edge of her mind. The TV buzzed in the background, Dieter Bravo’s voice filling the small apartment with a familiar rasp. A half-eaten carton of ice cream sat beside her, its contents softening to a puddle as she mindlessly scooped the melting mess.

Hunger Strike was playing again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d watched it by now. Dieter’s performance was the kind that stuck with you, the kind that won awards. It wasn’t just a movie anymore; it was the movie that had put him on the map—had made him a star and earned him that Oscar. She didn’t care if everyone else had moved on to the next blockbuster; for her, Hunger Strike was it. Every look in his eyes, every rasp of desperation in his voice felt real, almost too real. It was like he wasn’t acting at all.

"We don’t need them. They need us!" His character was yelling now, his voice hoarse, raw with intensity. She could practically feel his pain, his determination radiating through the screen.

She wiped at her eyes, even though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was everything—her life, the rejection, the eviction notice looming like a ticking time bomb. Or maybe it was just Dieter. Watching him made her feel seen, like somehow, through all the chaos, someone else understood what it was like to be on the edge.

The credits rolled on Hunger Strike, but instead of turning off the TV, she did what any fan would—she went down the rabbit hole. The screen filled with suggested videos, interviews, and, of course, the latest tabloid scandals. Dieter Bravo was all over the place lately. She had seen the headlines—everyone had. It was impossible to ignore him, even if you tried.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through Twitter, where his name was trending yet again.

"Dieter Bravo's Latest Scandal: Sex Tape with Male Assistant Exposed!"

"Gender Identity Crisis or Another Stunt? Dieter Bravo Caught in Love Triangle with Married PA!"

"Oscar-Winning Actor, Homewrecker? Dieter Bravo Linked to Personal Assistant's Broken Marriage!"

She exhaled sharply, half-amused, half in disbelief. Every few months, it seemed, something like this would pop up—another scandal, another explosion in the media circus surrounding him. But this one? A sex tape? With his male personal assistant, who was married to a woman?

It was outrageous. It was chaotic. It was exactly what you'd expect from Dieter Bravo.

How does one even make this shit up? she thought, as she tapped one of the articles. The details were just as wild as the headlines. Apparently, the PA was a guy named James, and he’d been with Dieter for years—right up until last week, when everything blew up.

An article excerpt says: "Sources say that the sex tape in question was filmed during a drug-fueled party at Dieter’s mansion. It shows intimate moments between the actor and his assistant, James, who is reportedly married to a woman. James has since left Dieter’s employment amid the scandal, and insiders claim the actor is ‘unapologetic’ about the affair. This is just the latest in a long string of public meltdowns for the once-revered actor. Dieter Bravo’s chaotic lifestyle has led many to question his mental stability and even his gender identity, as he continues to defy traditional labels."

She snorted, shaking her head. “Unapologetic? That sounds about right.”

It wasn’t that she supported his reckless behavior, but there was something about Dieter that always seemed to push boundaries in every direction. He lived like a car crash happening in slow motion, and yet, people couldn’t look away. The scandals, the chaos—they were just part of his public persona. But there was more to him than that.

She clicked on an older interview from the Cliff Beasts 6 press tour. That was the movie where everything started to unravel for him. The film was supposed to be a big comeback, but instead, it had exposed the man behind the Oscar-winning actor—drugs, sex, alcohol, and a level of unpredictability that no one in Hollywood could quite handle.

Interviewer: “Dieter, after your incredible performance in Hunger Strike, people expected another award-winning role in Cliff Beasts 6, but... that’s not what happened. Can you talk about what went wrong?”

Dieter Bravo (slouching, visibly tired): “Cliff Beasts 6... yeah, man, that was a mess. But, like, it was supposed to be a mess, wasn’t it? I mean, we were trapped in that goddamn bubble for months longer than planned, and by the end, it wasn’t even a movie anymore. It was survival.” He laughed, a rough, bitter sound. “I overdosed on camera, for fuck’s sake. People thought it was part of the documentary. Maybe it should’ve been.”

Interviewer: “So, the extended shoot during the pandemic—did that affect the film’s outcome?”

Dieter (rubbing his temples, shaking his head): “Affect it? It was the outcome. By the time we got to month six, no one gave a shit about the movie anymore. It was just about getting out of there alive. People wanted me to deliver some award-winning performance? Dude, I was barely holding it together. I mean, look at the film—Cliff Beasts was never about art. By the sixth one, it was just... noise. Star-studded, CGI-filled noise. People expected something big, but I gave them a disaster. Maybe that’s what it needed to be.”

Interviewer: “The overdose incident—was that something planned for the documentary, or did things just... get out of control?”

Dieter Bravo (smirking, then shrugging): “Planned? Nah, man, nothing was planned by then. I mean, the cameras were always rolling, right? So when I went down... they just kept filming. Thought it’d make for good behind-the-scenes footage or something. But that’s Hollywood for you.” He paused, letting the weight of it sink in before adding, “People don’t care if you’re falling apart. They just want to know if it’ll sell.”

Interviewer: “That’s pretty heavy. Do you think Cliff Beasts 6 was the start of your... well, decline? It’s no secret you’ve had a rough few years since.”

Dieter Bravo (lighting a cigarette, ignoring the studio's no-smoking policy): “Decline? Maybe. I dunno. I think people were already looking for a reason to tear me apart. Cliff Beasts just made it easier. It wasn’t the overdose that got people talking, it was the fact that it happened while I was making a movie no one cared about anymore. The sixth installment, man. By that point, the franchise was running on fumes, and so was I. But people love a good downfall, right? They see someone on top, and they wait for you to crash. They’ll stick a camera in your face and call it a documentary when really, it’s just a freak show.”

She paused the video, the cigarette smoke still curling from Dieter’s lips frozen on the screen. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. It was no wonder the media loved to tear him apart; they were practically fed the narrative on a silver platter. His whole life had become the entertainment industry’s favorite sideshow.

She stared at the screen for a few more moments, Dieter’s face frozen in that half-smirk, half-exhausted expression. He was unraveling, and everyone was watching. Cliff Beasts 6 might have been the breaking point, but it wasn’t the cause. No, Dieter had been falling apart long before that.

In a different world, she imagined, she and Dieter could be friends. He’d probably laugh at the mess she just made, tell her not to sweat it. In another life, maybe they’d meet over coffee or work on some crazy indie project together. They’d both be swimming in their own chaos, but maybe that’s what would make their friendship work.

She wasn’t delusional; she knew Dieter Bravo was a celebrity—someone she would probably never meet, never know beyond the screen. But sometimes, when he said things like that, it felt like he was speaking directly to her. Like maybe, in some other life, they’d get along. They’d get each other.

Her eyes drifted down to the eviction notice sitting on the coffee table. Four weeks, it said. Four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street. It was hard to feel hopeful when every option felt like a dead end. And yet, watching Dieter talk about his own collapse, she didn’t feel so alone.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

She ignored it at first, assuming it was just another bill reminder. But when she glanced at the screen, her breath caught.

Studio Callback - Screenwriting Internship.

Her heart stopped. A callback? After all this time?

Without thinking, she sat up too fast, the ice cream carton tipping over the edge of the couch and spilling melted chocolate onto the floor. “Shit!” she cursed, grabbing a towel and wiping at the sticky mess with quick, frustrated swipes.

It felt surreal. She had applied for that screenwriting internship months ago and had long since written it off as a missed opportunity. But here it was—another chance.

She stood there, towel in one hand, her phone in the other, staring at the message like it might disappear if she blinked. Four weeks until eviction, a job that barely covered her bills, and now, out of nowhere, this lifeline.

Her eyes flicked back to the TV, where Dieter’s face still stared back at her.

She picked up her phone and, without hesitating, replied to the message. Yes. I’ll be there.

–

The next day…

The waiting room buzzed with the same dreary energy it had since she’d arrived nearly an hour ago. Grey walls, uncomfortable chairs, and that humming fluorescent light that seemed to buzz directly into her brain. She sat on the edge of her seat, fingers tracing the spine of her portfolio, glancing at the door every time it swung open.

But this time, it wasn’t her turn.

It was him.

Dieter Bravo stormed into the room like a hurricane, sunglasses still perched on his face even though the room was dim, his hair a chaotic mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed—or maybe stumbled out of a party. His team trailed behind him, all looking frazzled and overworked. He barely acknowledged them as he flopped into a chair across from her with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“Well, this is bullshit,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m a goddamn Oscar winner, and they’ve got me sitting in this dump of a waiting room like I’m some extra on a low-budget indie film.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement. She knew who Dieter Bravo was the second he’d walked in—who didn’t? His face had been plastered on every tabloid for weeks. But there was something surreal about seeing him up close, in the flesh, like he’d been plucked straight from her TV screen. Don’t freak out, she told herself. He’s just a person.

Still, the excitement bubbled up inside her, and for a moment, she just stared at him, feeling the shock wear off.

He caught her staring. “What? You think this is funny?”

She blinked, pulling herself together, giving him a deadpan look. “I think you’re acting like someone who’s forgotten what a waiting room is.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or intrigued. “And you are?”

She shrugged. “Someone who’s been sitting here for an hour. Pretty sure I’m about to merge with this chair if they don’t call me soon.”

Dieter snorted, sitting up a little straighter, like he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Not outside his circle, at least. “An hour, huh? That’s it? Try six months trapped in a COVID bubble filming Cliff Beasts 6. That’s real torture.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I saw that movie. Pretty sure it was a crime against humanity.”

He cracked a grin. “Hey, that movie’s still paying my rent.”

“Is it? Seems like you should be able to afford better waiting rooms, then.”

Dieter leaned back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses even though they weren’t needed. “Touché.”

There was a pause, a silence between them that felt more comfortable than awkward. They were sizing each other up, like two kids sitting next to each other on a school bus, deciding if they wanted to be friends.

“So,” Dieter said, shifting his gaze toward her again. “What are you here for? You in trouble, too?”

She smirked. “I’m always in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, me too.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking around the room as if just noticing how drab it was. “You work here or something?”

She shrugged. “Depends if they think I’m good enough to work here.”

“Good enough for what?”

“I’m a writer,” she said, half-smiling, but there was a vulnerability in her voice. “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up with genuine curiosity, which caught her off guard. “A writer, huh? You got anything out there I’ve seen?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Only if you read stuff on Medium and Tumblr.”

Dieter laughed, the sound deep and unexpected, like he wasn’t used to laughing like that. “Tumblr, huh? So you’re a real writer.” He gave her a playful look. “What do you write? Fanfiction about guys like me?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a teasing glint in her gaze. “Nope. But if I did, it’d be better than that train wreck you called Cliff Beasts 6.”

Dieter clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the ego.”

She smirked. “Ego as big as yours can take it.”

For a second, he just stared at her, genuinely caught off guard. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was normal, not some Oscar-winning disaster wrapped in a scandal. She didn’t seem to care who he was or how many headlines he’d been in. It was refreshing, and he found himself more interested in her than he had been in anyone outside his usual crowd in a long time.

“So what do you do?” she asked casually, keeping the banter going.

Dieter laughed, a full, deep sound that made him look younger than he usually did in the tabloids. “What do I do? I’m a professional disaster. You haven’t heard?”

She chuckled, nodding toward the door. “I think you’re better at it than you are at acting.”

Dieter looked at her for a beat, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You know, I don’t get a lot of people talking to me like this. Most people, they want to kiss ass or they just want something from me.”

She shrugged, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

He leaned forward, intrigued. “You like books?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of books?”

“The kind that make people uncomfortable.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I see you’ve read Camus.”

He grinned. “The Stranger. Ever read it?”

“I did. Twice. Though I’m more of a Kafka fan.” She paused for a beat, her voice deadpan. “I like my existentialism served with a side of why is everything a nightmare and also I’m a bug.”

Dieter laughed again, clearly impressed. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, her tone casual, but inside, she couldn’t quite believe she was having this conversation. With Dieter Bravo. Of all people.

They stared at each other, neither blinking, as if trying to see who’d crack first. But before either could say anything more, the door opened again.

“Mr. Bravo?” A frazzled assistant appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they motioned for him to come in. “We’re ready for you.”

Dieter groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he stood up. “Finally.” He paused, turning to her with a smirk. “Don’t go anywhere, book lover. We’re not done with this conversation.”

She gave him a small smile, though inwardly she rolled her eyes. Yeah, sure. Like you'd remember me in two minutes, she thought. Dieter was famous for being distracted, for forgetting people as soon as he turned a corner. Everyone knew about his ADD—it was practically part of his public persona. He’d probably forget her name before the door even shut behind him.

Inside the meeting room…

Dieter slouched into a chair, his eyes flicking toward the group of studio executives sitting across from him, all with tight-lipped expressions. They weren’t here to chit-chat. They were here to clean up his mess. Again.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” Dieter asked, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

One of the executives, a tall man with silver hair and an expensive-looking suit, sighed heavily. “We’ve already settled with James and his wife. They’ve agreed not to divorce, but we’re paying for damages—and couples therapy.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow. “Couples therapy? Really?”

The man didn’t blink. “Yes, Dieter. Really.”

The room was thick with tension, the kind that only came when the stakes were sky-high. Another executive chimed in. “The headlines are out of control. We need to distance you from this. Fast.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologize? I already said I was sorry.” Dieter’s voice was tired, edged with sarcasm, but underneath, there was a flicker of frustration.

The silver-haired executive leaned forward. “Dieter, this isn’t about a simple apology. You’ve gone beyond that. Your lifestyle—this hedonistic, Roman emperor routine you’ve got going on—it’s not just damaging your reputation. It’s hurting us. The studio. The people you’re supposed to be representing.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by the harshness in the man’s tone.

“We’ve invested millions in you,” the executive continued, “and right now, you’re a liability. There’s talk of ending your contract early. Cutting ties before you bring the whole house down.”

Dieter’s jaw tightened. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” the man said coldly. “I’m not.”

For a moment, Dieter just sat there, staring at the man, trying to process what he was hearing. They were serious. He was this close to losing everything.

Another voice chimed in—his publicist, trying to smooth things over. “We’re not saying it’s over, Dieter. But we need to fix this. Charities. Positive press. You need to lay low for a while.”

The executive nodded. “No public appearances, no parties. We’re going to find some charity work for you, get the public to see a new side of you. You’re going to disappear for a bit. When you come back, you’ll be better. Clean. Understood?”

Dieter clenched his fists, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

“And we’ll get you a new PA,” his publicist added. “Someone who can keep you grounded. Keep you out of trouble, hopefully, someone you could not fuck.”

Dieter waved them off, already bored with the conversation. His mind drifted back to the waiting room, to the girl sitting across from him, trading quips like they were old friends. At least she’s interesting, he thought.

Back in the waiting room…

She sat there, slumped in her chair, staring blankly at the wall. The interview hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t gotten the job. The casting director had been polite but distant, and she could tell by their expression that they already had someone else in mind. Her stomach twisted with disappointment.

No extra job. No extra paycheck. And no way to make rent by the end of the month.

She stared down at her portfolio, feeling the weight of her failure settle in. She’d have to start packing soon. Maybe call her mom, tell her she was coming home. She could already imagine the conversation.

“We told you so,” her mom would say. “You should’ve gone into nursing. Writing was never going to pay the bills.”

Her stepdad would nod in agreement, disappointed but unsurprised. “Creative writing? Really?” he’d say. “What did you think would happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think about it. But the thoughts kept coming, relentless. She’d have to pack up, move back home, admit defeat.

God, I’m such a screw-up.

The door creaked open, and Dieter stepped out, glancing around. His entourage had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing alone for once. He spotted her instantly.

“Still here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Didn’t get the job.”

Dieter nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well... my meeting sucked too. They’ve decided I’m officially the next Caligula.”

She snorted. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he said, shaking his head. He stood there for a beat, looking around the room, then back at her. “You know what? Screw this. Let’s go grab a drink.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Dieter said, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and exhaustion. “I need a drink. You’re funny. Let’s go.”

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. But he wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes—he was serious.

“You buying?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter grinned. “I’m an Oscar winner. Drinks are always on me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up, tucking her portfolio under her arm. “Alright, Bravo. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He smirked, leading the way. “Baby, you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

–

The black Audi’s engine purred as Dieter navigated the dim streets, his phone vibrating endlessly in the cupholder. Text after text, call after call—all from his team. They were probably losing their minds, wondering where he’d disappeared to. He glanced at the notifications, scoffing, and shoved the phone further out of reach.

“So,” she said, glancing at him from the passenger seat, “do you do this often?”

Dieter smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do what?”

“Pick up random strangers and ask them to grab drinks with you.”

He laughed, the sound low and lazy. “No, I mean, I pick up random strangers... just not usually for drinks.”

She chuckled. “Well, you should probably get better at vetting your strangers. I could be a serial killer, you know.”

Dieter shot her a quick glance, grinning. “Even better. Might actually enjoy being murdered by you.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

“Disaster, masochist, artist... depends on the day.” He glanced over at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ve got a hell of a sense of humor, though. I like it.”

“And here I thought you were the sadist for thinking being murdered sounds fun.”

“Nope.” Dieter grinned. “Definitely a masochist. But don’t let that scare you off.”

She smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Too late. I’m terrified now.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows, casting shadows on Dieter’s face. It felt surreal, sitting in the passenger seat of Dieter Bravo’s car, heading to God-knows-where. But she didn’t feel uneasy. In fact, she felt strangely comfortable. It was weird how easily they’d fallen into this rhythm, like they’d known each other for years.

“So,” she asked, breaking the silence, “where exactly are we getting these drinks?”

Dieter’s smirk grew as he pulled into a parking garage, winding his way up to the fifth floor. “Here.”

“Here?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter parked the car, and without another word, led her to the elevator. When the doors slid open, she was met with the sleek interior of his penthouse. Glass walls, dark furniture, and a view of the city that stretched on forever.

“Oh,” she said, stepping inside, taking it all in. “I thought we were going to a bar or something.”

Dieter chuckled, locking the door behind them. “Yeah, well, I’ve been told not to be seen in public too much for a while. You know... the whole ‘clean up the image’ thing.”

She turned, leaning against the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Right. The scandal.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that.”

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, should I be worried now? You could be the serial killer. I didn’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

Dieter grinned, moving toward the bar in the corner of the room. “Well, if I am, at least you’ll die with a good drink in your hand.”

Dieter’s penthouse bar looked like it had been pulled straight out of a high-end hotel. Polished wood, rows of bottles perfectly lined up, and a set of cocktail tools that would make any bartender proud.

He moved behind the bar with a familiar ease, pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the counter. “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, Negroni... surprise me.”

“You got it.” He started mixing, moving around the bar like he’d done it a thousand times. She followed suit, sliding behind the bar beside him, the space between them feeling natural.

As they worked, they fell into a rhythm, like two old friends who’d done this countless times before. It was easy, the way they passed bottles back and forth, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating their conversation.

“So,” she said, shaking her drink, “you always this smooth with your guests, or am I special?”

Dieter smirked. “You’re special. I don’t let just anyone behind the bar.” He watched her expertly pour out the drink, nodding in approval. “You’ve got skills.”

She chuckled. “I bartend. Well, I used to, now I just work at a diner, but it counts.”

He laughed. “I used to bartend, too. Before all this.” He gestured vaguely to his sprawling penthouse. “I kinda miss it.”

“Miss what? Making drinks for drunk people at 2 a.m.?”

He shook his head, grinning. “No, the simplicity of it. The quiet moments before the rush. And, I guess, the people. You get to talk to all kinds of weirdos.”

She handed him the cocktail she���d just mixed, and he took a sip, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Not bad. Actually, really good.”

She smiled, taking a sip of his creation in return. “Yours isn’t half bad either, weirdo.”

He snorted as he finished drinking, “Looks like we’ve both still got it.”

They clinked their glasses, a quiet laugh shared between them.

–

They moved to the couches near the window, drinks in hand, and the night outside stretched on in glittering silence. It was one of those rare moments when the city was alive, but they were in their own little world, insulated by glass and a few too many drinks.

She stretched out on the couch, swirling the last of her drink in the glass. “So, this is what it’s like, huh? Being Dieter Bravo. A penthouse with a killer view and a bar that puts most cocktail lounges to shame.”

Dieter leaned back, grinning. “You sound impressed.”

She tilted her head. “I mean, it’s nice. But I’m not that impressed.”

He snorted. “Figures. I’ve gotta work harder to impress you, huh?”

“You said it, not me.”

There was a beat of silence before he broke it. “So, what’s the story? Why’re you still working at a diner when you’re clearly way too smart for that?”

She shrugged, taking a sip. “You make it sound like I had a choice. You think I want to be a waitress?”

“No, but...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. “I don’t know. You strike me as someone who should be... doing more.”

She arched an eyebrow. “More, like what? Writing fanfiction for Cliff Beasts 7?”

Dieter laughed, the sound filling the space. “God, no. Please, spare me.”

She grinned. “It’s not for lack of trying. I just... haven’t found my place yet. It’s not as easy as, ‘Hey, I’m talented, someone notice me.’” She shook her head, her voice growing quieter. “It’s a lot of failing. Mostly failing.”

Dieter nodded, leaning back in his seat, his expression more serious now. “I get that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice softer but still edged with sarcasm. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re pretty damn successful.”

Dieter looked at her, really looked at her this time. “You think success means you stop failing?”

She didn’t answer, watching him with curiosity.

He set his drink down and ran a hand through his hair. “You fail more when you’re successful. Trust me. People are just waiting for you to screw up. And when you do... they’re there to watch you burn.”

“You’re talking about the scandal.”

He nodded, taking another sip. “It’s not just the scandal. It’s everything. There’s always someone out there with a camera, waiting for you to mess up. They don’t care about what you do right. Just the crash.”

“So you’re saying you’re a slow-motion car crash?” she asked, her tone dry.

He smirked, nodding. “Exactly. A car crash people pay to watch.”

She stared at him for a moment, her mind working through his words. “That’s... kind of tragic.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. “It is, isn’t it?”

They both went quiet, the weight of his words settling between them. But then she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You ever think about, I don’t know... getting out of the car? Stopping the crash?”

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “And do what? Go back to bartending? Give up the Oscar for a shaker and ice?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her voice light but serious underneath. “Or maybe just... do something real. Something that’s not about everyone else’s expectations.”

Dieter looked at her for a long moment, something in his expression shifting, like he was seeing her in a new light. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do. Look, I might not be some hotshot writer, but I’ve always believed that what matters is the stuff that’s real. The art you make when no one’s watching. The stuff people don’t get to tear apart.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, everyone’s watching.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So maybe that’s their problem.”

Dieter laughed, and this time it wasn’t the careless, guarded kind of laugh he usually gave. It was genuine. “You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do. I’m always right.”

“Okay, Camus,” he teased, rolling his eyes. “You’re officially hired as my life coach.”

She leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know if you could afford me.”

Dieter snorted, swirling his drink. “How expensive are you?” he asked, playful but intrigued.

She paused, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Depends… do you personally know Gérard Depardieu?”

Dieter grimaced, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip. “Gérard Depardieu?” He repeated, blinking in confusion.

She nodded, downing the rest of her drink in two big gulps, the alcohol warming her throat. “What? You don’t know him?”

“I mean, I do, but wow...” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a chuckle. “That’s a... pretty weird choice.”

“Well, what can I say? I like them like that.” She shrugged, her expression completely serious as she set her glass down.

Dieter threw his head back, laughing harder than he had all night. It was loud, unfiltered, and completely genuine, the kind of laugh that came when he wasn’t performing for anyone.

“You’re a trip, you know that?” he said, still grinning as he wiped at his eyes. “Gérard Depardieu. Damn. Haven’t thought about that guy in years.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, are you saying you don’t have weird celebrity crushes?”

He tilted his head, considering the question for a second. “I mean... I am the weird celebrity crush.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “How humble of you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “You should hear the shit people say about me online. I’ve been everything from someone’s ‘gay awakening’ to someone’s inappropriate uncle.”

She snorted into her drink, barely containing her laughter. “Jesus. People are wild.”

Dieter smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, c’mon. Who else you got? Who’s on your weird celebrity crush list? Lay it on me.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the moment, then said with a completely straight face, “Willem Dafoe.”

Dieter almost choked on his drink, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at her like she’d just told him she was into cryptids. “Dafoe? Willem Dafoe?”

“Yeah,” she said, completely deadpan. “What’s wrong with Dafoe?”

He blinked, still recovering from nearly spitting his drink out. “I mean, nothing’s wrong with him, but... wow, that’s... unexpected.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I already shocked you with Depardieu. What were you expecting? Besides, Dafoe... he’s got range.” She gave him a wicked grin and added, “Plus, you know he’s freaky in bed.”

Dieter let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly doubling over. “Holy shit... you’re a freak. A true freak.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” he said, still chuckling as he reached over to refill her glass. “I’ve met some freaks in my time, but this? This is different. I like it.”

She eyed the freshly poured drink, tilting her head. “Not sure if I should feel good about that comment.”

Dieter grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “You should. Trust me.”

They both chuckled, the easy, playful energy between them lightening the mood even more. But then Dieter leaned back, giving her an amused look. “You know, I actually know Willem.”

Her eyes widened, her curiosity piqued. “No way. You know him?”

Dieter nodded, taking a slow sip. “Yeah. Great guy. Not as intense as his characters would make you think. Really down to earth. Freaky in his own way, sure, but... I get it. I guess I see what you see in him.”

She smiled, leaning back. “Well, that’s comforting.”

Then she paused, glancing down at her drink before adding, “I actually met him once. Worked as an assistant on a theater production he starred in a couple of years ago.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up. “No way. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” she said, nodding. “It was this small indie thing in New York. I wasn’t his assistant or anything, just part of the general crew, but I did get to work around him a bit. He’s... different, in a good way.”

Dieter leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention. You’ve done PA work before?”

She shook her head, swirling the ice in her glass. “Not really. That was more of a part-time gig while I was in school. I applied for a real PA job a few years back, but it didn’t exactly go well.”

Dieter’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She sighed, her smirk fading as she stared down at her drink. “Well, I got all the way through the interviews, and then the celebrity—someone old-school—told me I was too chubby to work for them. Said I wouldn’t look good in photographs.”

Dieter’s face immediately twisted into a mix of shock and disgust. “Wait, what? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she said, the bitterness in her voice barely masked by the nonchalance she was trying to project. “I didn’t even bother applying for PA jobs after that. Figured it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

Dieter shook his head, clearly appalled. “That’s... Jesus. I mean, I get that people in this industry are eccentric as hell, but that’s way too much. Who the hell cares what you look like in photos? You’re supposed to be doing a job, not starring in the damn pictures.”

She shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well, some people care. Guess I wasn’t the image they wanted.”

Dieter looked at her, his expression softening with empathy. “That’s seriously messed up. I’m sorry you went through that.”

She waved him off, smiling more genuinely this time. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was a while ago. I just stuck to writing and waitressing after that.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Dieter said, leaning forward, “that guy was a complete idiot. You’d make a damn good PA.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks. But I think I’m done with that world.”

Dieter studied her for a moment, then raised his glass in a small toast. “Well, here’s to not being the kind of asshole who judges people by how they look in photos.”

She clinked her glass against his, smiling again. “I’ll drink to that.”

The conversation lingered in the air after their laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling over them. She leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the massive windows overlooking the city, the skyline glittering like a distant dream.

“Gotta say,” she began, her voice soft but still playful, “this penthouse is... something else. It’s almost too perfect, though. Feels more like a set than a home.”

Dieter glanced around the room, smirking faintly. “Yeah, that’s because it’s not home.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?”

He shook his head, swirling the last of his drink. “Nah. It’s just a place I own. I use it for... all the shit you probably hear about in the tabloids.”

She snorted, leaning in. “You mean the orgies and sex scandals?”

“Pretty much.” Dieter chuckled, but there was something more behind the laughter. His expression softened as he set the glass down on the table. “It’s not where I live. My real home is out in Sherman Oaks.”

She tilted her head, surprised. “Sherman Oaks?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s an actual house. Big, built for a family, but too large for just me. I don’t bring anyone there. Not my... conquests, not my parties. Just me. I paint there, you know? I’ve got this studio in the back, and when the world gets too loud, that’s where I go. It’s the only place I feel... I don’t know, settled.”

Her eyes softened as she listened. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, but the vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. “That sounds... nice, actually. Quiet.”

“It is,” he agreed, his gaze distant, as if he could picture the house in his mind. “But the silence can get too loud sometimes. Especially now that I’m older. That’s when I come back here. The penthouse. To drown it out.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “The silence?”

Dieter nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think silence could be so damn loud, but it is. Especially when you’re used to everything being... chaotic.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a loneliness there, one that no amount of parties, conquests, or tabloid headlines could fill. It wasn’t just about being alone—it was about being seen. About finding a place where the chaos didn’t define him.

She took a breath, her tone gentle but sure. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes the noise. Not really.”

Dieter blinked, turning his gaze back to her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, people see the chaos, the headlines, the scandals. But I don’t think that’s really you.” She paused, her voice steady. “You’ve got a whole world inside you that no one bothers to look at. You’re not just the guy who parties and ends up in the tabloids. You’re more than that.”

His eyes flickered with something—surprise, maybe, or recognition. He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued before he could.

“They don’t see the parts of you that matter. The parts that create, that make something out of all this mess. The fact that you’ve got a studio and you paint—that tells me a lot. You’re more than just an actor, Dieter. You’re an artist. And not because you say so, but because you are.”

For a moment, Dieter just stared at her, as if her words had landed somewhere deeper than he’d expected. She was looking at him like no one had in years. Not like a star, not like the scandalized mess the world saw. She saw him. The real him.

His throat tightened, and suddenly, the air felt heavier. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not just memorizing lines. You’re putting something into the world that most people don’t even take the time to understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It’s real, Dieter. And it matters.”

He blinked, the familiar burn of tears stinging behind his eyes. It was strange—he hadn’t felt this exposed in so long. The vulnerability, the rawness of being seen for more than just the surface.

A tear slipped down his cheek, slow and steady. He swiped at it quickly, but another followed. It wasn’t a sobbing mess, no dramatic breakdown. Just a quiet release, like the weight of everything he’d been carrying finally had somewhere to go.

“Damn,” he muttered, laughing softly through the tears. “You’re really messing me up here.”

She smiled, nudging him gently with her elbow. “You needed to hear it.”

He wiped his eyes, still grinning despite the tears. “Guess I did.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was comfortable, filled with an understanding that went deeper than words. In the quiet of the penthouse, with the city lights twinkling in the background, Dieter felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Peace.

But of course, Dieter couldn’t let the moment just sit there. He leaned over slightly, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So... is this the part where we kiss?”

She burst out laughing, her head falling back as she clutched her sides. “Oh my God, Dieter, you’re such an ass.”

For the first time in a long time, Dieter didn’t feel even a twinge of offense at being laughed at. In fact, her reaction made him laugh, too—a deep, real laugh that didn’t feel performative. It was just them, laughing like idiots in the middle of a moment that could’ve been serious, but wasn’t.

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, had to shoot my shot.”

She shook her head, still giggling as she nudged him. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” he teased.

“Debatable,” she shot back, smirking. “But that was not the move, Bravo.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no kiss. Got it.”

She rolled her eyes, the amusement still lingering in her expression. “Seriously, though. You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Dieter said, smirking. But beneath the joking, there was a warmth in his eyes, a softness that hadn’t been there before. He liked this—being around someone who could take his nonsense and throw it right back at him, without missing a beat.

–

They had been hanging out for days—Dieter laying low like his team had asked, and her finding herself more and more wrapped up in his world. It was easy with him. The lazy mornings that bled into afternoons, the spontaneous outings, the hours spent talking about nothing and everything. It was like living in a bubble, where the real world and all its mess didn’t exist.

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were lounging in his penthouse, another aimless afternoon with the TV buzzing in the background, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“So,” Dieter began, his tone casual, but there was an edge of hesitation in it. “I’ve been thinking...”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, but there was a nervousness in his smile. “No, I mean... I’ve been thinking about you. Us, I guess.”

She frowned slightly, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment. “I think I... I really like you. And I want to stay friends, you know? If you’re cool with it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course he liked her—they got along too well not to. But she knew what had to happen next.

She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I don’t think we can keep doing this.”

Dieter’s face fell, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what? Why not?”

“I can’t afford to stay in LA anymore,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m going home. To my mom’s and stepdad’s. The diner job just doesn’t cover rent or utilities, and figuring things out in this city isn’t really feasible for me right now.”

Dieter stared at her, the words slowly sinking in. His expression shifted from confusion to something deeper—sadness, maybe even panic. “You’re... leaving?”

She nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. I’ve got no choice.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she’d just ripped the floor out from under him. Then, true to form, Dieter went into full dramatic mode.

“Are you serious?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.”

She laughed, despite herself. “Dieter, stop.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, flopping onto the couch like a petulant child. “You’re leaving me to fend for myself in this godforsaken city, and for what? Your mom’s house in the middle of nowhere? This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

She rolled her eyes, amused but touched by how much this seemed to affect him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Where’s your loyalty?” he muttered dramatically. “I thought we were in this together.”

She snorted. “I didn’t realize hanging out with you was a lifelong commitment.”

Dieter sat up suddenly, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just had the greatest idea of all time. “Wait a second...”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“You still need a job, right?”

Her eyebrow arched. “...Yes?”

“I still need a PA,” he said, the excitement building in his voice. “My team hasn’t found anyone, and let’s face it—they’re probably going to stick me with some lifeless corporate robot.”

She blinked, not expecting this. “Wait, are you offering me a job?”

“Hell yes, I am,” he said, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “You’d be perfect. I mean, you know me. You get me. And you’re already here half the time anyway. Why not make it official?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. “I don’t know, Dieter. It feels like... I don’t know, like you’re just offering it because you feel bad.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I’m offering it because I need you. And not in a weird way, okay? I mean, yeah, it’s a job, but it’s also more than that. I trust you. And I don’t trust a lot of people.”

She bit her lip, still uncertain. “Yeah, but it comes with a paycheck, right? That’s gonna make me feel... really dirty.”

Dieter laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Oh, come on. It’s a legit offer. And I’m paying you well, so you’ll get used to feeling dirty real quick.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone softening again. “Think about it. It’s not charity. It’s not a handout. I really need your company, and I think you need this too.”

She exhaled, staring at him for a moment. “I’ll... think about it.”

A few days later, she was back at the penthouse, this time with Dieter’s manager, his lawyer, and Dieter himself, all sitting around the sleek kitchen island. It felt surreal.

The manager went over the details of the contract, but it was hard to focus on the specifics when her mind was spinning with how fast everything was happening.

“And, of course,” the manager added sternly, “we have to include the no-fucking clause. If you two get involved, it’s not only grounds for termination but also blacklisting.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. “Seriously? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

She snorted, waving it off. “It’s fine, Bravo. I don’t think you’d want to fuck me anyway.”

He frowned, almost hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The manager chuckled, shaking his head. “He fucks anything that moves.”

She furrowed her brows briefly, her face showing a flash of disgust at the comment, but she kept her mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to start an argument with his team. Still, she couldn’t shake the sour taste the comment left in her mouth.

Dieter noticed her reaction and shot his manager a look, but the moment passed quickly as the lawyer handed her the contract to sign.

Once the papers were signed, it was official. She was now Dieter Bravo’s new assistant.

After the contract signing, they were back in the quiet of the penthouse. She stretched her arms out, feeling a mixture of excitement and disbelief at the day’s events. Dieter leaned against the counter, still processing it all too, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there in silence.

Then she clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Okay, Bravo, I’m treating you to dinner.”

Dieter blinked, confusion crossing his face. “Wait, what? You’re treating me?”

She grinned, nodding. “Yeah, to celebrate. You know, new job and all.”

He hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “You just signed a contract. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

She waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Take a chill pill. I just landed a sick new job with a really dirty paycheck. I’m excited, let me have this.”

Dieter chuckled, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I’ve taken way too many pills in my life. Not sure I remember which one the chill pill is.”

She burst out laughing, grabbing her jacket. “Well, then this will be the antidote. C’mon, we’re getting Five Guys.”

Dieter’s grin grew wider, his eyes lighting up. “Damn, baby, you know I can’t say no to Five Guys.”

She shot him a smirk. “Then let’s go.”

They drove in Dieter’s car, windows heavily tinted, cruising through the LA streets as the sun dipped below the skyline. They grabbed their order from the drive-thru window and found an empty parking lot, parking under the dim glow of a streetlight.

Dieter reclined his seat all the way back, pushing the front seats to give them more space to lounge. She did the same, their legs stretched out as they unwrapped their burgers.

“So,” he mumbled around a mouthful of fries, “what now?”

She shrugged, her voice muffled as she stuffed more fries into her mouth. “Idunno.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio playing softly in the background, the quiet hum of the city far off in the distance.

Dieter glanced at her sideways, studying her face. “You seem a little... off.”

She paused mid-chew, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, biting into his burger. “I dunno. Just felt like something’s been bugging you since we left the penthouse.”

She exhaled, setting her burger down, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well... your manager pissed me off. Big time.”

Dieter stopped chewing, his eyes widening a little. “What? Why?”

“That comment he made,” she said, rolling her eyes, “about you humping everything that moves. It was gross. And unnecessary.”

Dieter’s face reddened, the blush creeping up his neck as he rubbed at it, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, uh... that’s just how he is.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

He chuckled awkwardly, setting his burger down. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. You’ve heard the stories, read the articles, right?”

She stared at him for a beat, then sighed. She knew he wasn’t trying to defend his manager, and in a way, she found that endearing—his loyalty to people even after everything they’d said about him. All the rumors, the scandals, the affairs. But she tucked that thought away for another time.

“That’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “As someone who works with you, the first thing your manager should be doing is protecting you—even from your own team.”

Dieter blinked, her words hitting harder than he expected. He felt something crack open in his chest. She wasn’t wrong. And hearing her say it so plainly made him realize just how much he’d let slide because of loyalty. Because of fear.

He smiled softly, biting into his burger, his voice quiet. “Thanks for saying that.”

She shrugged, offering him a small smile in return. “It’s true.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned over, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, you haven’t tried to fuck me yet, so I don’t think what your manager said was true.”

Dieter choked on his soda, laughing and coughing at the same time. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned, leaning back into her seat. “What? Am I not fuckable enough for Dieter Bravo?”

He immediately shook his head, his voice firm. “No, baby–you’re...fuck– you’re hot. Like, really hot. And I’m an idiot for not jumping you the second I met you.”

She snorted, clearly amused. “But?”

Dieter sighed, running a hand through his hair, his voice quieter but more grounded now. “Look, if we hadn’t had that first conversation, that night in the waiting room... I probably would’ve tried to sleep with you.”

She gasped dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Excuse me? What made you think I’d even want to sleep with you?”

Dieter burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, c’mon, I’ve got ways. If I really wanted to, I could have charmed you into it.”

She snorted, shoving another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, right. You can’t charm your way into everyone’s bed, Bravo.”

Dieter stared at her, deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “Uh... yes, I can.”

They both broke into laughter, the moment light but laced with a shared understanding. Once their laughter died down, he leaned back, the humor fading slightly as he spoke again, this time more serious.

“But seriously,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I didn’t want to cross that line with you. Because... you’re different.”

She glanced at him, curious now, the playful energy between them simmering down as he opened up.

“I’m a messy person,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel, fingers idly tracing the edges. “In every sense of the word. My life, my relationships—they don’t end well. And I’ve ruined... too many things that mattered. I can’t ruin this. I won’t.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. “Why do you think it would ruin things?”

He took a deep breath, the vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he finally met her gaze. “Because when I sleep with someone, I lose track of... what’s real and what’s not. It always starts out fine, but I mess things up. I make it complicated, and then it all falls apart. And I don’t want that to happen with you.”

She studied him for a moment, seeing the weight behind his words, the sincerity he rarely showed to anyone. This wasn’t the over-the-top, scandal-filled Dieter Bravo the world knew. This was a man who was genuinely afraid of ruining something good.

“Wow,” she muttered, trying to break the heaviness. “So you’re saying I was basically a goner if we hadn’t talked that first night?”

He chuckled, giving her a teasing grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really are full of yourself.”

“No, I’m just honest,” he said with a playful smirk. “But really, I don’t want to just fuck this up. You get me, more than anyone has in a long time. And I don’t want to lose that because I was... impulsive.”

She looked at him for a long moment, their earlier banter giving way to something deeper. It was clear that he meant every word, and it made sense in a way she hadn’t expected. Dieter Bravo might have been a disaster in relationships, but he was choosing not to be a disaster with her. And that meant something.

“Well,” she said, her smile returning as she reached for another fry, “that’s good to know. I mean, you’re still a complete disaster, but you’re my kind of disaster.”

Dieter’s grin widened, the tension finally easing as he leaned back in his seat. “I’ll take it.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added with a smirk, “Besides, now I’m legally being paid to not fuck you.”

He laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “And I’m legally paying you to not fuck me.”

She nodded sagely. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Dieter chuckled, the heaviness of the earlier conversation replaced by their usual playful energy. “Yeah, it’s working out pretty well so far.”

They both sat there, comfortable in the aftermath of the conversation, knowing that while the chemistry between them was undeniable, the friendship was what mattered most. And neither of them was willing to risk it, even if they joked about it.

They sat in the car, the remnants of their Five Guys feast scattered on the console between them. The night had slipped into a comfortable quiet, the kind that came from hours of laughter, honest conversation, and greasy burgers. Dieter stretched, glancing over at her with a lazy grin.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You heading home now?”

She nodded, finishing the last of her fries. “Yeah. Gotta pack up my stuff and get ready for the big move.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Right. Moving in with me. Never thought I’d reach this point in my life where a woman’s moving in with me... and I legally can’t fuck her.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back into her seat. “Welcome to adulthood, Bravo. Full of responsibilities and boundaries.”

Dieter’s grin widened, leaning a little closer. “So, about this moving in thing—are you planning on, like, wearing layers of clothing at all times? Because I don’t need to make this harder for myself than it already is.”

She shot him a look, deadpan. “Harder for yourself?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Listen, I promise to be fully covered in the ugliest, most unflattering pajamas you’ve ever seen. Think, like, thermal underwear, oversized sweaters, maybe a balaclava if I’m feeling extra considerate.”

Dieter threw his head back laughing, slapping the dashboard. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.”

“Both,” she said with a smirk, grabbing the last fry from the bag and popping it into her mouth.

Dieter leaned back, sighing contentedly. “I still can’t believe it though. I’m actually gonna live with a woman. And she’s not some wild fling, but an assistant I’m paying not to fuck. Talk about a plot twist.”

She laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well, you better get used to it. I’ll be back in the morning with all my crap.”

Dieter grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Bright and early. So you better get your beauty sleep.”

He chuckled, looking at her fondly. “I’ll try.”

She reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment before looking back at him, her tone soft but teasing. “Try not to miss me too much tonight, alright?”

Dieter winked. “No promises.”

She stepped out of the car, waving as she walked toward her building. “See you tomorrow, Bravo.”

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back into the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

[fipindustries]

ill say, for as cringe as hey might sometimes be, i prefer a thousand billion hundred times comedians that come from spaces like mbmbam and dropout and critical rol and smosh than the putrid clique of the joe rogan podcast and similar places, if nothing else by sheer dint of the fact the first group comes across as simply better people.

and to go even further than that, these last few years have left me with a pretty strong dislike for the generation X in general. the type of guys who were in their twenties and thirties watching south park or avenue Q or george carlin and learned all the wrong lessons from them. they just seem to operate on thought terminating cliches like "im not racist! i hate everyone equally! hyuck hyuck!" or "the truth is always in the middle" or "when you think about it nothing really matters, we are just stupid monkeys in a tiny rock in the middle of space" and other stupid bits of "common wisdom". they are all so cynical, so brain rotted by nihilism, they seem to reject the idea that one should seriously worry about anything, that to care and act in accordance is to be a loser and a busybody and that you fell for some kind of grift. and they think that makes them sound enlightened. and of course you can never criticize them on any of it because their answer is "i dont know anything, man, im just an idiot saying whatever comes to my mind". i despise it with every fiber of my being. this embrace of stupidity and meaninglessness as a way to evade the responsability of actually thinking seriously about stuff, to take ideas seriously.

what's worse is that is always so fake and disengenious because the second you talk about taking away their marihuana or telling them about how there are slurs that not appropiate to say, suddenly they become the most principled defenders of the inalienable human rights based on the self evident moral truth that they should be free to do whatever they fuck they want without any criticism.

is sheer unexamined immaturity.

[eebibly]

I don’t reaaaally like the stardresses

But not for the same reason I’ve seen others dislike them? The biggest argument I see against Lucy’s stardresses is that it’s too much like Erza’s requip. I don’t disagree with that specifically. The thing is, in a roundabout way, I would argue that the issue with Lucy’s dresses is actually more of a reflection of the issue with Erza’s power (which I may or may not make a post about). What I mean is, if Erza’s magic was better developed, Lucy’s magic would seem more original.

Much like almost every other magic in this lazy-ass written universe, I don’t like the ‘rules’ (or lack thereof) for summoning them. The power scaling in FT is infamously terrible, so I’m basically preaching to the choir, but brain rot takes over my typey fingees sometimes.

So I’ve been reading the manga because the anime recently upset me, therefore I’d now rather quickly read through FT: 100YQ than invest a lot of emotional energy in an adaptation that really slows the pacing of its printed counterpart. That being said:

Part 1: Aquarius

First of all, I don’t agree with the fact that Lucy can still use Aquarius’s stardress. I understand that it was gifted to her by the Celestial King during Tartaros, but that only should have lasted as long as that war. I think it undermines Aquarius’s sacrifice and I also believe it would have benefited Lucy and her goals as a character for 100YQ. Giving Lucy Aquarius’s stardress could have represented the end of an era but the start of a new one. And it does, ostensibly. Aquarius is basically Lucy’s first spirit, someone who has both a strong connection with Lucy and with her mother. It’s a difficult bond to break, but a testament to Lucy letting go of a piece of her past to protect her present bonds. As a reward for such a sacrifice, the Celestial King gives her one last chance to fight for her future with an old friend’s power. It’s a beautiful moment that acts as closure for Aquarius’s “loss”, but also a hint at the new possibilities for Lucy’s new abilities. And that’s all it needed to be.

However, despite the fact that her contract with Aquarius is, for that time being, null and void, Lucy now overuses ‘Aqua Metria’ at every turn instead of bothering to actually summon the spirits with whom she currently has contracts (and seriously, is there no reason she can’t use Regulus Impact? I feel like it accomplishes the same… impact). This paragraph is just me venting, I find it quite annoying… Not to mention that not having the dress until she gets the key back could be something else to look forward to! Also Aquarius’s dress is probably my least favourite… so boring and just another excuse for Mashima to draw as little clothes on Lucy as often as possible.

Part 2: Borrowed power

Or at least, I feel that her stardresses should be considered borrowing a part of her spirits’ powers. Celestial magic is unique in that the wizard doesn’t just need to understand the mechanics of it, or how the magic flows within oneself. It also requires an extra level of bond and trust for it to function at its fullest. It’s actually a really beautiful power, one that I really admire. Which is why I’m so sad that it’s so misrepresented by its own creator. This is my opinion, but considering that summoning spirits is the main facet of her magic, I strongly feel that summoning a stardress should cost more power than opening a gate as well as be less powerful than the spirit whose dress it belongs to. That way, it’s still more worth it to summon the spirit, but is also a testament to the wizard’s magic power and their bond with their spirit since they are willing to expend even more power just to be able to fight alongside them. Not only that, but it feels to me like the dresses should be the spirits sharing their power with Lucy. However, it feels more like Lucy is summoning an entirely different entity that scales purely on her own magic power. Doesn’t that make her spirits obsolete? She barely ever summons them anymore because it seems that choosing to summon a stardress and skipping the spirit is not only more cost effective, but also makes her combat more efficient. If she fights better by herself than with her spirits, why even have spirits?

Considering how poorly written the spirits are, I’d almost argue that the stardresses, and only the stardresses, should’ve been Lucy’s power from the start. If you can’t do it right, then don’t do it at all.

On that topic:

Part 3: Is he bored of them?

I’m genuinely wondering if Mashima grew tired of his own concept. And by that I mean, the spirits specifically. Because he clearly loves the moral behind them. You love and respect them even if they’re not human. A moral developed really well, at least as far as I’ve seen in the anime, in Edens Zero. I won’t spoil it because this is a post about Fairy Tail, but I really like how that moral is done in that story. But he made 2 major mistakes in Fairy Tail. 1) Celestial wizards are rare. How can you fight for a cause if there is no cause to fight for? He tries to make up for this by Lucy starting to connect with other characters in the way the other protagonists just can’t, like Eclair from Phoenix Priestess and Athena from 100YQ. Great, point for Lucy’s character, really well done. Why can’t she extend that to her spirits on-screen? 2) he seems to have decided that because the spirits aren’t human, they must be one-note?? And only one spirit can have depth at a time. When he needed Aquarius to matter, Loke devolved into the thats-my-wife-guy. Meanwhile Aquarius evolved from raging PMS b*tch to ‘well maybe I do love Lucy after all -3-’.

He has written so so so many characters into his canon, but the celestial spirits, nooo that’s too much to keep track of. Despite how much he hammers home that they matter as much as everybody else. Worst of all, most of the time that they’re summoned, Lucy just seems annoyed or disturbed. So which is it???

Part 4: Help

I wish I could let go, someone help.

If you got this far, thanks for reading ✌️