#which is what I want

[justplainwhump]

Just A Fling: Distraction

Because @wildfaewhump has amazing (hot!) characters and Dany just can't keep her hands to herself, here's another spicy AU. In which my Dany and Vic's Peyton have had nothing bad happen to them and are successful rich kids working in their parent's companies. They also happen to have insane chemistry.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

(Don't worry though, there's plenty whump on the horizon. Peyton isn't exactly a nice guy.)

(This is technically aligned with the "Everything and Nothing" AU of Vic, focusing on Valerian as Peyton's spouse)

Content: (Very) Spicy flirting. A lot of innuendo.

Night has long fallen, and Dany leans back in the leather chair of the hotel bar, staring at the city lights far below. Young Leaders in Management, the conference is called, and it's an honor to be there; chances are a bunch of them will be in next year's "30 under 30" list of top managers. It's hard to truly believe in it, when most of them work for companies that have their parents' name.

People like Peyton Montgomery, 29, CFO of Montgomery Capital. Charlene Lennox, 26, CFO of Baxter, Lennox and partners. Orville Roscoe, 25, whose grandmother put the R in WRU. And herself, Danielle Hammond, 29, COO of the Hammond Group.

Charlene had invited her to dinner over their joint venture building up a freight airline; and as always she'd been a strenuous and utterly un-fun conversation partner, leaving Dany in desperate need of a drink after their meeting had finally ended.

A drink, and a distraction.

She pulls out her phone with a sigh, scrolling down to find the respective apps.

"What are you doing?", Kate asks, suddenly alert. Shes been half asleep before, and Dany almost feels the pang of a bad conscience. Kate is second shift of her security detail, but that still means she's been working all night.

"Bumble." Dany turns her screen for Kate to see. "I need a fuck."

"Dany," Kate groans. "Please, give me a break. You know how hard it is to vet random strangers on the internet? For all I know, any of the men in that app could be a serial killer."

"Well, what else do you suggest?"

"Look at what's right in front of you. How about..." She makes a vague gesture. "Peyton Montgomery? He's sitting at the bar and he checked your ass out twice in the last five minutes alone."

Dany glances over her shoulder through the dim light of the half empty bar, easily spotting Peyton's dark curls. He's sitting at the bar. Alone, it seems - a state that seems entirely wrong for him. At home during any social events, he's the heart of the party; him, his spouse and their elitist circle of old-money friends. She'd never felt any need to belong.

"Pretty sure your line of arguments is flawed," she notes. "Rich boys can be serial killers, too, you know."

"At least I can be sure that he isn't in it for your money." Kate shrugged and pushed her glass of water from one side of the table to the other. "Plus, he lives in the same hotel. Neither of us has to get out in the cold."

Dany sighs and looks at him again. She's attended a panel with him, earlier today, 'Cost cutting by Process Automation'. Arrogant, spoilt, pumped with the casual confidence of those who always got whatever they wanted. He's also got a pretty smile, dry humour, and a way with numbers. And she really likes the way his shirt emphasises his shoulders.

Maybe it's worth a shot.

His head goes up to the mirror over the bar and he smirks, acknowledging her stare. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, he raises his glass to his lips and takes a small sip.

Fuck.

Just for that smirk, she'd swipe him right in any app.

She breaks their eye contact and looks back at Kate, half defeated. "I'll talk to him."

Kate grins and raps her knuckles on the table. "Good luck."

~

"Dany Hammond." Peyton smiles as she steps up next to him. "Really enjoyed that debate with you today. You're up late."

"Thanks. Right back at you. Still not over your cost efficiency argumentation, though. These numbers are obviously -" She bites her lip and shakes her head. Focus. She's here to find something else entirely. "Well you're right with one thing. It's too late to talk business."

"It is." He tilts his head at the empty bar stool next to him. "Let me buy you a drink?"

Dany raises an eyebrow, stepping back to look him down slowly. His shoulders and arms under that expensive shirt look even better up close. He really is her type. "Depends on what your intentions are with that."

He chuckles and returns the favour, taking her in head to toe. "Well... I could certainly come up with some ideas for my... intentions." Peyton glances over her shoulder and raises his glass towards Kate. "I guess it all depends on what your bodyguard back there will let me do to you."

"Ah." Dany clicks her tongue in fake disappointment. "Wrong answer, rich boy."

"Oh?" He narrows his eyes, a hint of a challenge sparking in them. "Depends on what... you'll let me do to you?"

She takes a sip of her drink and tilts her head. "Better."

He's not moving for a moment, simply assessing her, and she wonders if Kate's been wrong.

"Let's say..." He begins, and something to his tone makes a warm shiver run down her spine already. His eyes are firmly on hers now, very carefully observing any reaction. "Let's assume my intentions were to fuck you over every horizontal surface of my suite?"

Dany's heart is racing with anticipation. "Hmmm." Her lip twitches into a smirk. "Then I guess you should order these drinks to go."

Peyton snaps his fingers and signals the bartender without taking his gaze off of her. "You should just know, Dany," He gives her an almost boyish grin, as the bartender scurries back to pick up a bottle. "I was prepared to properly seduce you. I'd have given you the whole nine yards. The words, the smiles, the body language, the touches. People tend to admire my effortless charm."

Dany slides from her chair, their bodies almost touching, but just not, close enough to feel the heat radiating from each other. "Oh I don't have a doubt you're a good actor", she admits, and reaches out, fingertips resting on his chest. "But haven't we found on in that debate that we both rather share a passion for..." She leans in, acutely aware of how her hair falls over his shoulder, how her breath must feel on the skin of his neck. "... efficacy."

He moves faster than she expected, his hand on her hip spinning her around, and then she's pinned between his body and the bar, and it's his mouth that is on her neck, his teeth grazing over her skin.

From the corner of her eye, she sees Kate jump to her feet.

Peyton chuckles, holds out his hand, and a cold bottle of champagne is handed to him.

"Make sure your bodyguard knows not to disturb us," he murmurs into her hair. "We're going to be making a lot of noise."

[apricote]

what if i made sirius a half elf though. :( idk it just makes me very sad that he's going to live so much shorter than halsin.

[heartbeetz]

Literally so fucked up but also so funny that the second or third drawing I ever did of Anton (the one that's my pfp) is still my favorite. Something about the way I drew his face or hair or beard is PERFECT to me and I still haven't been able to figure out what it is or how to replicate it

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[tuttle-did-it]

David Tennant for Prime Minister, please.

edit- Since this is getting so much attention, edited to include descriptions of screenshots.

This woman has lost her fucking mind.

Jo, are you okay?

[redsray]

the funniest part of any Robin meeting the JL is that every Robin is so distinctly different from the previous one in terms of personality and vibes that the league literally gets backlash. and like, I don't blame them. not to mention that they are non-meta children that dress as a traffic light and fight crime alongside batman in gotham on a nightly basis. i'd also be a bit concerned. Batman, literally The Night of Gotham personified in the League's eyes, coming into a JL meeting: This is Robin, my crime-fighting partner. 11-year-old Dick Grayson, dressed in the brightest primary colours possible, vaguely hidden murder behind those eyes, never stops moving even for a moment: Hi! Superman: That's a child. That's-- Bats that is a child. You let a child--? Batman, deadpan: You try to stop him. Would you rather he try and murder a grown man with a wire?

Batman: This is Robin. 12-year-old Jason Todd, with the biggest grin on his face, about 3 books in his hand, stars in his eyes and a distinct street-kid drawl: Hey!!! Green Lantern: That's ... that's a different child. What?? Jason: I stole his tires :) Batman: Tried to. Jason, stage whispering to the League: basically did. Green Lantern: that is a different kid, right?? I'm not seeing shit??

Batman: This is Robin. 14-year-old Tim Drake, bo staff clutched in his hand, a wary and tired expression on his face, more on the quiet side, the literal walking definition of don't judge a book by it's cover: hello Flash: Where do you even find these-- Tim: I found myself.

Batman: This is Robin. 17-year-old Stephanie Brown, literally blonde, with a shit-eating grin, eyes full of nothing but mischief and the most explosive personality you've ever seen: hiya!! Superman: I give up. Stephanie: I know, I have that amazing effect on people.

Batman: This is Robin. 13-year-old Damian Wayne, a literal wet cat that will hiss at you, has a sword, the most judgemental stare you'll get from a teenager, ready to jump anyone there: Green Lantern: WHY DOES HE HAVE A SWORD?! Batman: ... he came with the sword.

[hinamie]

post-graduation trip airport looks

[normal-thoughts-official]

donated 50 reais to a palestinian GFM today

it amounted to 8 dollars

several days' worth of expenses for me became a single digit donation for them. barely enough for a blanket. just like that

it really sucks to know that my money is inherently less helpful no matter how much it'd pay for me, and there's nothing i can do

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[consumedshadow-mysticmc]

*mentally punches walls in frustration *

[takeshitakyuuto]

lady luck is good to me tonight, someone just offered to give me a fuck ton of their gl manga and all i have to pay is shipping lets goooooo

[chloesimaginationthings]

These clown animatronics in FNAF wild as hell..

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[hellenhighwater]

Forbidden orange juice

[foolsocracy]

Hi, I love your art! Would you ever consider drawing the Fab Five as adults?

hell yeah

[a-cat-in-toffee]

expanding on my tags from this post