#They don't get her and she doesn't get them but that doesn't mean they don't love eachother very much

[roachliquid]

Speaking as a certified Old Fart, I gotta address this objection from the replies:

"But it's just a joke! It's just a harmless aesthetic preference!"

This is exactly how neo-Nazi Millennials justified their radicalization when we were young. They'd make some comment about "get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich". Or, less charmingly, "all faggots need to die." And then follow it up with "It's just a joke, lighten up, don't be such a girl," to make you feel like a party pooper for objecting to their obvious bigotry. Or they'd talk about how cool the weapons were in WW2-era Germany, or how Hitler was such a great leader, and then claim they were just being objective and didn't support Nazi ideals.

And y'know what? Some of these folks were telling the truth. There are lots of innocent reasons to be interested in some of these topics. But a lot of them weren't, and even the honest ones were still, unwittingly, complicit. They helped contribute to a culture where this kind of thing became so normalized that eventually it was fine to genuinely believe it.

And yes, a decent minority of them were women and/or queer.

People can be complicit in their own oppression. Obviously this doesn't mean they always are - people's lives and situations can be incredibly complicated, and sometimes people need to let things slide to protect themselves. But no demographic, gendered or otherwise, is a morally faultless monolith. People can make mistakes. They can end up accidentally supporting things they didn't mean to support. And it's up to us - all of us, no matter how we're marginalized - to try to recognize that in ourselves and do what we can to stop it.

I don't blame anyone for wanting to embrace femininity, or a simpler, homey life. Y'all came of age in a trend of cloying, aggressive "feminism" where a woman wasn't worth her salt unless she was a Hashtag Girlboss. The age of Marvel using Girl Power(TM) to push military propaganda, of young women being implicitly told they should earn three degrees and become the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. But that in itself was a reactionary extreme - rebelling against old norms that insisted that women couldn't have ambitions, couldn't pursue a life outside the home, couldn't be as capable or valuable as men.

And what I learned from that fiasco is that wearing pants won't save you. Being a girlboss won't save you. Because the bulk of this shift had fuckall to do with women's freedom - it was about setting new, impossible standards that women had to reach in order to attain a status of "success". Partly out of simple misogyny, and partly to condense us (people assumed to be women) into a simple, accessible marketing demographic.

But by the same token, wearing skirts isn't saving you either. It's not inherently harmful - sincerely, please dress however you want - but the trends that have sprung up around it are no better than the last ones. Especially since this spark of interest in "traditional" models of femininity coincides directly with a growing effort to send us back there for real - and yes, in some cases, is actively bolstering it.

gen z has to reckon with its radicalization problem. you are not a morally pure and superior generation of youth come to save the world, your men and boys are radicalized at an unprecedented level and you ignore it because it’s too hard to address but you have to. these boys are in your classes, they date your friends, you know them and you cannot continue to pretend this is an “old white guy” problem

[marzipanandminutiae]

Why I fucking hate "The Handmaid's Tale" comparisons to real life (ie "this means THT is going to come true!!!")

that was not an elected government in the story. it was a fringe group that slaughtered the entire US government and took control by force. which makes little sense if you think about it, but that's because it doesn't matter HOW the dystopia happened; it just had to be there for the fiction to make a comment upon the author's present.

Dystopia is never a future prediction. see above: it's always a comment on the present in which it's written

That is massively fucking insulting to women who have actually lived with systemic oppression. They don't have to take away your name or your ability to read and write or put you in a color-coded costume. That's not what violent systemic misogyny looks like, because we KNOW what it looks like.

Sarah Emerson (1762-1784) could absolutely read. Based on what was expected of wealthy girls in her era, she probably spoke at least two languages- English and some French -as well as having knowledge of household accounting, basic first aid, history, literature, drawing, music, etc. She was still married to a man in his twenties when she was fourteen, because he wanted the inheritance her parents had left her (property she owned because, yes, women COULD own property back then). His family disapproved- they called her "the child bride" -but it still happened.

Women in the 19th century who couldn't vote, were discouraged strongly from public speaking (as in, speeches, not conversation), who sometimes had no control over that property they could in fact own, if they married, did normal things. They laughed and cried and petted cute animals. They spoke their minds. They wore what they wanted, albeit with societal constraints. They had names and voices and they still had so few rights under the law.

Women who died from backalley abortions as late as the 1960s could read and write. They had jobs. They dressed in ways we wouldn't consider remarkable today. They voted. They had access to the fucking pill, for gods' sakes. And yet that still happened to them. And yet they still died because the government didn't care about their lives as much as clumps of cells inside them.

Shirley Jackson (1916-1965) was a popular author with a rapier wit that she wasn't above using freely, living once again in a time we'd recognize many features of today. she married a Jewish man over the objections of...well, most of society back then, really. the nurse still wrote "housewife" for her career when she said "writer," during hospital admission to deliver her daughter Sarah

and that's all without getting into the double-damnations of women who aren't white, who aren't Christian, who aren't straight or cisgender. women in non-western countries where some of those things- like clothing laws or movement restrictions -have come to pass, but still not all and not in that way precisely

It doesn't have to be The Handmaid's Tale. In fact, it usually isn't, historically speaking. It's Call the Midwife. It's Harlots. It's Hidden Figures. it's Carol. It's astonishingly normal, among normal women living relatively normal- even happy lives, many of them.

Don't insult their memories by implying that it has to be speculative fiction to be real.

[solelifauna]

When you say the love interest might be worse, does that mean "being mean to reader" wise or "being possessive over the reader" wise?

ERMMM...both I'd say. The love interest for the Werewolf AU is Jon Kent. He's about the same age as the reader and older than Damian by one year (From the time-skip space mission that he went on that aged him). But bro, this boy is fucking nuts.

Yes, Kryptonians aren't werewolves in this universe, but Lois Lane is. And a strong one at that, coming from a military family and all that jazz. So Jon Lane Kent is literally one of the strongest beings on earth, being half-kryptonian and half-werewolf.

Now i know what youre thinking.

But wouldn't Jon also be outcasted from werewolf society/wouldn't the bats not like him cause he's a half-blood?

WRONG!!! Yes, Jon is a half-blooded werewolf, but the other half is Kryptonian, one of the strongest species in the universe. If anything, his breeding makes him a very respected figure and the Bats definitely find him worthy. He and Damian are still the best of friends.

Now Jon's relationship with (Y/n). Yikes. Funnily enough, it was (Y/n) who started crushing on Jon first. She'd see him around the manor often, and she'd watch as he interacted with the Waynes or messed around with Damian. From what she could see, he seemed nicer than her family, so maybe she could be friends with him right? Plus, he's super cute!

And of course, this doesn't end well. I mean, this is a dark au. First off, Superman doesn't quite see humans as equals. Werewolves, they have his respect, and all the other races too. Yes, Clark Kent's adoptive parents were humans, and yes he loved them, but they were weak. Fragile even. And he made sure to instill that teaching in Jon as well.

Did Jon love his grandparents? Absolutely, but that meant that Ma and Pa stayed confined to Smallville and their house. They were too weak, they needed to be protected.

Lois also helped push Werewolf culture onto him as well. Weaker werewolves and humans were subservient to the stronger, and if necessary, could be killed and eaten. Jon didn't quite get the eating part, finding it quite gross actually, until he had his first taste of flesh. And, yikes, the boy was hooked.

In his mind, humans were either things to be taken care of (like pets) or food.

What's even more scary is that he's sweet around his family and friends, but those he deems as lesser? Well, let's just hope you don't catch him in a bad mood or piss him off. Which is why when weak, pitiful, abandoned (Y/n) Wayne comes up to him, he's insulted.

Why on earth did you even think you were worthy of talking to him?

Yes, he's seen you watching them, lurking around the manor, keeping your distance. It was quite annoying actually, he could practically hear your heart leaping out of its chest every time you saw him. He knew your intentions, trying to make friends with him.

He just looked down at you, eyes pooling with something nobody could explain, whilst you smiled at him and made small talk. Or tried to make small talk.

"Damian, should I snap her neck? Or is your family still insistent on the old laws?" Jon says.

You freeze, eyes widening in fear. Ah...you've made a severe lapse in judgment.

So much for a new friend.

"You know what? How 'bout I just go?" You quip nervously before trying to run off.

It's too bad Damian grabs you by the back of your shirt, basically choking you in the process. You let out a strangled noise as your body loses balance and lurches backward. When Damian lets go, your having a mad coughing fit, trying to get as much air as you could into your lungs.

Damian only makes an annoyed sound while Jon watches, a sick type of glee in his eyes. "When the time comes friend, you may feast with us. Now (Y/n), apologize to Jon."

You do not even have to think twice about that. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry! I shouldn't have approached you, I'm sorry." And at this point, you're crying. (reader is 14 when this happens)

And god doesn't that make Jon smile. He wouldn't deny, that you were pretty (I mean, you do have half of Bruce Wayne's DNA). But as much as he'd consider coveting you, you weren't worth that honor, no, he'd much rather taste your sweet, sweet flesh. (He could practically smell it wafting off you).

But alas, he'd have to wait.

But of course, in normal yandere fashion, he goes from wanting to eat you to wanting to eat you. The obsession starts to change around (Y/n)'s 16th birthday party that the Waynes throw. It's customary that all children do some public ball or whatever, so this was yours. Jon and his family are there obviously, and you're there as well, looking as miserable and tired as usual (and still somehow being the most beautiful thing in the building). However, he sees you light up in a way he's never seen you do before when your (what he's guessing) friends show up. They're human. They're weak, like you.

Seeing you interact with them, hearing you talk normally(super-hearing, duh) without fear, watching the way you laughed...He realizes he wants. And he wants bad.

Looks like you've got a new problem now.

Anyways, this is all I got!! I don't want to spoil the story more than I already have, but yeah, say hello to "absolutely bonkers Jon Kent". Hope you enjoyed!!!

[cuubism]

Dreamling idea:

Randomly had a thought about the Endless being a family that is essentially dying out. However the parents are determined to have heirs even if it means selling their children into unwanted marriages or possibly short term “engagements”. Of course this becomes complicated with each of the children having various aspects that make them unsuitable (or in a few cases they vanish in the night to escape). Ultimately their hopes all rest on Dream.

He, though, is NOT having it. He’d recently met an older man - he has money but not the “right kind” aka ill gotten wealth. He isn’t from their class and, worst of all, he doesn’t seem interested in children. Obviously not a match, as far as the Endless parents are concerned.

However there IS a prospect in a nearby town.

Dream tries to run but unfortunately precautions were taken and he is locked away to await his fate.

Meanwhile, Hob waits for him at the tavern where they promised to meet.

And waits…

I had a particular scene in my head of Dream fighting with his mother over her demands only to be silenced by her slapping his face.

oh yeah. dream and his illicit older criminal fiance. his parents won't be pleased. that's what you get when you treat your kids like possessions though. rebellion...

--

Hob is waiting for him. Hob, beloved Hob, who like a fairy tale prince, or perhaps a fairy tale bandit, has promised to take Dream away from all this, steal him from his locked carriage and whisk him away into the night. Hob is waiting for him.

And Dream is faced with a locked door.

He yanks again on his bedroom door. It's locked from the outside. How had they known? He'd given no indication he intended to go out tonight. Or that he'd been going out at all. Death had even been covering for him, lying to their parents about Dream's whereabouts and acquaintances. And yet.

He yanks on the door for a fourth time, increasingly frustrated, and this time it swings open--but not of his doing. His mother stands on the other side, holding the key.

"No more of that," she says. Dream takes a step back as she steps into the room. "Sit down, Dream."

Dream has never been a particularly rebellious child. But even those who truly want to follow the rules can be pushed to their limits when the rules become too unfair. "No," he says, and it's only thinking of Hob that keeps his voice strong. "I am leaving, Mother."

She stares at him incredulously. "Leaving? To run off with that-- that man?" She sounds like she wants to use a far ruder word, but good breeding holds her tongue. "No. I think not. What, precisely, do you think that man wants with you, Dream? A proper spouse? You think he won't simply use and discard you?"

"It's my well-being you care about?" Dream says, disbelieving. "If you cared so much for that, or for Hob's age or the quality of his wealth you would not be bringing me suitors like Roderick Burgess."

"At least Burgess comes from a good family. Gadling is a common criminal."

"Don't speak of him that way!" Dream says, raising his voice against his mother for the first time he can remember. "Hob has been better to me than all of you."

His mother steps forward and slaps him across the face. Dream reels back, clutching his cheek, as she says. "You won't say such things against this family. You will stay here until we find someone suitable to take you."

With that she leaves again, locking the door behind her.

Dream sits down hard on the edge of his bed, still holding his face. For all that his parents have often been domineering, neither of them has ever struck him before. Such are the consequences of speaking his mind. Of pursuing what he wants.

He sits there for a long time, despondent. He wants to see Hob. But Hob will think Dream changed his mind, when Dream doesn't show up. Will think Dream abandoned him.

Dream wraps his arms around his knees, rocking himself back and forth. His mother is wrong about Hob. Hob is good to him. He treats Dream kindly, and listens to Dream talk about his interests when none of his family ever seem to care, and he is so handsome, has taught Dream the pleasure of being looked at as though he is something to truly desire--not as a prize or possession, like the suitors his mother picks out so often look at him, but as a sexual being deserving to want and be wanted. And he brings Dream to such heights of pleasure in his bed, when they meet.

He is still wallowing in his misfortune, feeling very pathetic indeed, when a crack comes at his window, and then the exterior lock breaks.

Dream startles, backing away, as the window swings open with a creak. Hob is there, leaning over the sill, out of breath from, apparently, climbing up the wall. "Hey, darling," he says.

A common criminal, Dream thinks, lips tugging up in a fond smile.

"You didn't come to our meeting point," Hob continues, hefting himself up and over the windowsill.

"So you came to me?" Dream asks.

"Couldn't let you get away that easy." He steps in close, taking Dream's face between his hands. Dream leans into him, clutching at Hob's shirt, as Hob's gaze searches his. He smiles, craftily, at what he sees there. "Still want to be stolen away?"

"Please."

Hob takes his hand. Kisses his knuckles. Dream doesn't look back at his room as Hob helps him over the windowsill, keeps him steady as they climb down the wall and land in the garden, where Hob catches him in the cradle of his arms.

"Not a very auspicious start for a marriage," Hob says, grinning. "Didn't even get it blessed by a priest or anything."

Dream surges up to kiss him, almost knocking Hob off-balance, and Hob laughs, kissing him back, arms tight around his waist. Then he takes Dream's hand again.

"Come on, my sweet, I promised you adventure." And hands gripped tight, he leads Dream off into the night.

[chunibyo-x-sorcerer]

Taz thought of asking Kazuma about the curse user, however...Kinie Ger stops her.

'If he does know the curse user, he might be in cahoots with them. Why else is he still alive?"

"I don't know...Kinie..."

"Or he's just an idiot who doesn't know who the curse user and the curse user is taking advantage of him and maybe his access to get where he's going."

Taz can sense Kazuma's fear due to his scent. Kazuma is holding something in his hand. She blinks, "Kazuma. What's that in your hand."

Kazuma blinks, "Huh? You mean this. It's my uh...very own...wrench." He is holding the Zilla-wrench. What does he have it? "I got this just to access to places but...but...I was thinking of going down there to find an exit but ugh...those things out there..." Kazuma frowns. "I thought of getting Meko and that friend of yours from that thing...but...ugh...I can't."

"So something is still going on up there?" Akane mutters as Nobara sighed keeping still so Hana can heal her.

"From the noises you heard and everything else, yeah. Right now, it's just a few people here in this pizza place but.....we been changed by some disturbing things. Even some of the animatronics were under this glitch effect." she said before seeing Hana pull away.

"O..Okay, you should be good now." she said as Nobara tested her ankle. During that time, they saw Yuria looking for this wrench needed. However, lucky for them they found one.

"Found it." Yuria smiles as she has it in her hands. "Nobara. Look." Yuria shows the Zilla-wrench to her. "We got it. Taz…we got the Zilla wrench and also one of the workers is here with us! She knocked out the robot that's chasing us."

"Great work Yuria!" Nobara said happy.

~~~~~~DJ area~~~~~~~

"Great! Seems they got one and that should help them along the way down there. "Yuji was happy they found something so they should be able to unlock or fix anything if they had to keep moving.

"Hold on, a anti-virus program? That's what kept her from being effected!?" Kazama said.

"That's what she told us. So far, I'm glad. Maybe after this we can figure out a way to stop the one responsible for this and put a end to it." He said.

"Are you nutz!? How in the world are you going to find the one that did this!? They could be anywhere!" he said.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

A couple of requests

"And this is our red witch?"

You were yanked out of your ordinary environment. You were yanked out of your house. And where were you teleported exactly?

Crawling out of fire was never a pleasant experience.

"Agatha!…" Fuck, you were getting angry. "Agatha!…" You could feel fireball forming in your palm.

"Hey! Is Harkness the only one who deserves your attention?"

You turned around as quickly as you could. That voice was familiar. That tone was close.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Out of the trees silhouette emerged. not even a second, a fleeting instant - you recognized her immediately.

"You've got something on your shoulder." Shoulder, really Rio? You shrugged, too close to your neck.

"Don't."

Oh, you didn't sound confident, Rio noticed. Rio smirked. Of course she did. Centuries you were apart and she still could read you like an open book.

____

"Did you miss me?"

You almost jumped. You forgot whether it was voice of your nightmares or dreams.

Well, the voice sure was as sultry as you remembered it to be. Not only that. You remembered all too well her obsession with a very specific silhouette, with open skin, with accent on her arms.

Rio knew you were looking at her. You were thinking about her.

You tried to keep your eyes focused on her. But it didn't work. Suddenly you stopped.

"Why are you here?"

You didn't allow Rio to get closer. Golden was your protective halo.

"Because of you." Rio was always straightforward. Even after all these years. "Not that easy to track you down. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the affort with the cover and protective spells. Clearly you were thinking about me, baby. Just not in a way I want it."

___

"I'm fine."

Of course, you were not. Your clothes was wet with your own blood. Shard of glass was bigger than you thought. And sharper, clearly sharper.

"I could…"

"Jen, I'm fine."

You let others move faster, you let them out of your sight. Potions were not good enough in this situation. You couldn't heal yourself, the only other option was… no, it wasn't an option.

You couldn't focus on the road. Pain was too much, tension was too much, moving was too much. Your own body wasfinally betraying you. You groaned.

"I definitely like this sound. But not in this circumstances."

Rio appeared just in time to help you keep the balance.

"I'm fine."

You were not strong enough to fight her hands on you.

"Yeah, I already heard that."

You leaned against Rio's shoulder. You didn't want to owe her anything. You were close, dangerously close.

Not now, not after everything. You were losing yourself on the road. You almost closed your eyes.

It was enough for her to barely wave a hand. Wound disappeared in an instant. You inhaled sharply and immediately pushed Rio away.

"You shouldn't have done that." Your whisper hit her harder than any trial. "It doesn't change anything."

"I know."

___

This coven was the worst thing you could imagine. Lunatics, has beens, humans, teens. But the worst thing - your ex-lover. You forgot at what point fucking death was a good idea.

Of course you were flooded with memories, with emotions, with tingling in your body. Fuck. You hated it here. Road was never even supposed to exist. You were not sure what spell chose you, but sure as hell Rio influenced it.

"We need to move quicker. Do you understand the meaning of this word." Agatha's voice was annoying as ever. You praised gods for living without her disturbance for so many years. Nothing was fine, while Harkness was around.

"Thief." You muttered. "What did you say, dear?" Lilia was close. Semblance of a companion at least. You bond appeared such a long time ago. "Nothing". You caught Rio's glance. Thief would be a too generous word for Death.

___

All the walking, all the fighting, all the arguing. Those witches were everything but the coven. Still rest andfire were universally accepted. Stories of the old glory were never part of your routine. You needed a practice of protections spells, you needed to think.

The last thing you wanted was to be a part of the old memory between women who hated each other. You tried to change path, but everything was too loud, as if the road itself amplified the voices.

"You took him!"

You've never heard Agatha like this. You yourself caused many cries of agony, but this one was different.

"He was never even yours." how did Rio manage to stay calm and distant?

"He was always mine, I created him."

"You cheated. And you know you cannot cheat me."

That was true. You were cursed while trying to do exactly that, while trying to live a life of pretended normalcy.

___

Of course you knew about history between Agatha and Rio. You were jealous at first. Even of the memory of them together.

But Rio managed to calm you down. You met ages after that affair. There was no reason for you not to believe she was yours. After the fight with Agatha something changed. Rio wasn't with you anymore. On her own she was wondering the woods,for brief moments appearing during vital moments.

You knew this Rio once, not for long.

"You're letting Agatha have all the fun." You didn't have to cheer her up. But… you cared. And it was betternot to upset death itself.

"More fun for her, more bodies for me. It always worked that way."

"Even with Nicholas."

Silence was awkward and not welcomed. You sat near her.

"You were the only one who refused this deal."

"And still you stayed."

Painfully soft. Painfully obvious. Painfully full of affection.

"It wasn't enough, was it?"

"It was always too much."

Of course, it was. It was Rio, all about Rio. Even now she wanted to grab you, to possess, to devour. You could practically feel the struggle in her mind. But she chose to be tender.

[almostfoxglove]

have Javier and reader ever talked about his relations when he was in Columbia? them being best friends and all. did she laugh it off? did she understand? I'm curious ☺️

HI SWEETHEART this made my day when I got it. I'm so sorry it took a while to answer but I hope you don't mind that I got a little carried away with this one... everything's weird and bad right now so I'm gonna post this and try to get some sleep - I hope you're taking care of yourself <3 thank you soso much for sending this ask, seriously it means the world. ily!! here's some tenderness for you.

javier confesses about colombia

an I'LL CARRY YOU drabble

Explicit (18+) | Javier Peña x f!reader | drabble 1.1k words CW: Allusion to canon-typical violence & trauma and two idiots being sickeningly in love.

You never push back on anything but his blame. 

headcanons and full drabble below the cut!

in ICY, javi leaves to colombia (the first time) at twenty-eight (seen in part II). between that moment and when he returns aged thirty-six (seen in part I), they have no contact because her phone number changes, so when he calls her right after leaving (seen in dark heart), he thinks she's icing him out for good. *sobs gently*

we know he disappears again at the end of part I and doesn't return until he comes home for good at the end of part II. between those two meetings, they also have no contact - so his girl doesn't hear a thing about colombia (and by extension, all his sexual escapades), though she follows the news.

in the year after his return (all of part III) I don't think much of what happened down there comes up. javi's traumatized, still acclimating to civilian life while his girl's engaged *sobs harder*, and I imagine he's scared to admit his role in all the death and violence. if / when she asks, I think he keeps it pretty vague and chooses not to talk about the women he was involved with (they aren't together yet, after all)

POST-FINALE HOWEVER, javi tells her pretty much everything in little chunks at a time, including about all the women he slept with and what he knows of what became of them (I imagine the helena story is an especially tearful / difficult retelling, but it's important to him that she knows the truth). he's pretty terrified it'll scare her off, but I think we know her better than that.

here's a peek at what I imagine part of that conversation looked like <3

It’s the middle of the night and he’s not yet buying it, still has that little wrinkle above his nose that folds when he scowls cutting deep into his brow. Propped against the wall in his little twin bed, when you insist Javier’s dark eyes dodge yours and fall to the hands that knot themselves in his lap, anxious. But anxious is fine—just means he’s talking. Cutting off slabs of those missing years like meat from a bone for you to carry.

You’re grateful to be given anything at all. You know how deep trust like this really goes, unseen but branching. Mycelium underground. 

You never push back on anything but his blame. 

“Baby,” you say softly, and his jaw ticks as the word melts him a touch. 

His chin might flicker briefly like his body longs to cry, but if it does he wrestles it back before meeting you with dark, helpless eyes. “You don’t know,” he says, no cruelty in it. His voice not much more solid than a whisper and slaughtered red by guilt.

“Know you though,” you say.

The sigh that cuts out of him could shatter you. Javier turns to stretch out length-wise on the bed, his socked feet hanging off the end. You moved in weeks ago but haven’t gotten around to upgrading to a bigger mattress and part of you believes—though you’d never say it—that he’s waiting to get through all this first. Like the hurt of him needs to be here to do it: in the bed where you both once were small, held. So you allow it, take turns groaning in the daylight hours about your backs and hips and necks, and at night you hold each other ‘cause you have to, to fit in this little thing. Not that you wouldn’t, anyway. Not that either of you know how to sleep without the weight of the other’s body anymore. 

You always did sleep best beside him.

When he’s settled, you slip down to lie against him, propped up on one elbow with your torso folded over his and one arm draped across his hips. Javier sighs, pleased by the weight of you, and closes his eyes. 

“Was different there,” he says, after a long moment. “M’different now.” 

Outside the crickets are rioting again, ribbiting their threaded symphony. You push the hair back from his face—more pewter than ever but so familiar in its waves and curls—and watch the twitching of his face, all the microscopic ways he wrestles with some unnamed memory. 

You give him his time. All this patient, open air until he swallows and starts to say, “Didn’t do right—” 

It isn’t that his voice cracks, just that it stops all at once like someone’s lifted the needle off a record. Though you don’t know precisely what he’s trying to say, you sense its jagged outline. Can feel the memory slicing him anytime he speaks. Below you, Javier clears his throat. “Didn’t do right by them.”

Deep breath, then you push.

“Did you hurt them,” you ask, your voice quiet but solid, firm.

Though his brows fold low, his eyes stay closed. Swallows again. “No,” he says.

“Did you touch them without their consent,” you go on. “Do anything they didn’t want.”

“No,” Javier replies.

“Were you cruel?”

He shifts, uneasy. Mutters back a weak and whispered, “No.” Sometimes he has trouble with this one and stumbles over the answer, but tonight he’s got it right.

You know all this, of course. You’re not asking for you because you already know the answers—know him, whether he wants to admit it right now or not. Doesn’t matter that he’s different now; so are you. So is everybody. Tragedy doesn’t let a goddamn thing stay the same. And while you’ve always known you’ll never see nor fathom the whole, vicious picture—what living down there through years of violence laid ghost and seed beneath his skin—there’s not a bone in your body that believes him malicious. 

At first he worried, but you don’t care about the bodies he lost himself in. All the women he held and had. Sort of surprised you too, but you didn’t learn of them until after you’d found each other again, for good this time, and so what was there to be afraid of? That there’d been, in the worst of his agony, warm hands and welcome bodies? 

No, you don’t care. Doesn’t matter the number. 

You’re glad that at least for small, clustered minutes, he wasn’t always alone.

“Did you try?” you ask. This is the big one, the one you know hurts most for him to hear. “To help them.”

In the turquoise cover of early night, Javier’s face crumples in. Forehead canyoned by lines, his eyes swallowed by miserable, crinkled Vs. You see no glossy tears slip loose but they must be in there, hidden under his lashes when for so long he holds his breath like he can’t trust his own lungs or own mind. While you wait, you lay one palm in the center of his chest and the shimmer of moonlight winks off your hand, reflected in the flat face of a garnet, making silver of red and pearl. It feels, for the moment it’s bright, a little like having his mother back. Like you can feel her in the room, holding him with you.

Javier’s heart hammers beneath your touch, then his hand bolts up to cover yours as if to keep you there. As if you’d ever pull away. “I—”

You press down gently, give him your warmth, your weight, and his hand tightens in kind.

“I wanted to,” he croaks.

“Did you try?”

And it breaks him, chokes him. One wet sound punches out of his chest but he’s tough, soft bits and all. Something in him’s always just known how to hold on. How to take it, for better or worse. But it’s for the better here, you’re certain. Because he won’t survive believing himself evil—you see that clearly, illuminated like a streetlamp casting gold over a night-dark road. If he doesn’t see that he tried, doesn’t let himself feel it, one of these days the guilt will kill him.

It’s just the one ragged breath, then he pebbles apart perfectly still. Steady, you leaden your weight on his sternum, press down a little harder, and Javier grips your hand with greater need. All his warring goes on quietly, invisible in all but his head.

“M’right here,” you tell him gently.

He nods, his eyes still shut. His breaths slow and agonizing.

“Right here,” you say.

Together you wait for the spell to pass, for the storm to clear, until finally the clouds part over him and he sucks one longer, deeper breath, dragging all the room’s air into his lungs. There it is, there he is, solidifying under your palm. Seaming back together, stained glass made new. 

“I tried,” Javier breathes.

His face unfurls and the deep lines once carved with a knife fall smooth. The wrinkles stay of course, all the evidence of his life, but they’re softer now. You trace the crows feet at the corner of his eyes with your thumb and find his skin hot and damp. 

“I know you did, baby,” you whisper to him. “You tried.”

Suddenly his arms fly up and crush you to his chest—so startled, you yelp and can’t help but chuckle as his grip tightens and tightens. You let him squeeze you, your arms trapped under his, and hum softly when you feel his nose against your hair. Carefully he inhales, then slow he exhales: something he’s picked up in his sessions, attended twice a month. Which is how you know that although he’s fallen silent, he’s busy in his mind reminding himself of frivolities. All the tiny bits he must have missed in those long, distant years he spent away from you, believing you hated him. 

You imagine cut grass and July sunshine, beer bottles ice cold on the porch with his pop,

and rolling cigarettes in the bed of the pickup at sixteen, laughing at the sour clouds choking out of you when you couldn’t hold your smoke,

and birthday parties,

and your hand, at every age, in his.

He knows better now, that you never hated him and never could. Knows too that you’ve loved him all the years he’s loved you and will all the years you have left.

Eventually you feel the air shift as he comes home into his body. With his chest smushed tight against the shell of your ear, you’re half asleep, adrift in the deep throb of his pulse. You feel his mustache, the graze of his lips, and the quiet murmur of his voice calling you another name. New, these last weeks. It still surprises you, the sweetness of mi amor on his tongue, in his mouth.

“Get some sleep,” Javier murmurs as his arms go slack around you without pulling away.

“Only if you do,” you mumble in reply, eyes feathering open just long enough to catch the last of the sky’s deep blue. Then they’re closed again. Everything is warm and black.

“M’right behind you,” he says, and soon you’re both asleep.

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3 tag list below!

@pedritosgfreal @thundermartini @guiltyasdave @jolapeno @reluctanthalfwayoptimism 

@myownwholewildworld @sunnytuliptime @indiegirlunited @anoverwhelmingdin @pedrospatch

@bergamote08 @harriedandharassed @casssiopeia @sweetpascal @half-moon16 

@noisynightmarepoetry @theoraekenslover @luxurychristmaspudding @kyberblade @toomanytookas 

@itsokbbygrl @wannab-urs @milla-frenchy @yopossum @beezusvreeland

@katw474 @bluesweaters15 @jessthebaker @encasedinobsidian @ppascalrain

@yxtkiwiyxt @schnarfer @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @iknowisoundcrazy

@whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @missladym1981 @ro-nahime-things @helenanell

[uniquexusposts]

This is embarrassing - M. Verstappen (3)

Summary: Y/n and Max meet up for a morning ski trip on the slopes. Part one Part two

"It's so early," Theodore yawned the following morning. He looked at his sister, who sat on the bench in the garage, ready to go out on the slopes, but also ready to go back to bed. Y/n's eyes fell shut a couple of times.

"It's so cold," Y/n mumbled.

"Ready to go?" Dad asked with his chirpy voice. "You won't regret it when you're skiing down the slopes," he said to his children.

"It doesn't mean I regret it now," Y/n replied, and a shiver rolled down her spine. She got up and grabbed her stuff. "I should've gone to bed earlier. Where's mum?"

Dad opened the backdoor for his two children. "Mum is sleeping in, she will join us the next time."

"That woman needs a raise," Theodore mentioned and stepped outside. "God, it is freezing."

"What else do you expect in the fucking winter at a ski resort?" Y/n shot to him and followed him.

"In France, is it above freezing point."

"Good for them."

"What is wrong with you?" Theodore loudly sighed and shook his head.

Dad locked the door and looked at his two grown-ups. "It's too early to listen to your complaints, so I'm kindly asking you to shut your mouth or go back to your bed to sleep to let your crankiness dissolve."

The two straightened their faces and looked away. Y/n sighed and looked behind her to see if more people had woken up. Then her eyes fell on two creatures that were walking towards her at the end of the street. Why would they do that? Why would they wake up this early? She turned around and followed her dad and brother towards the ski lift. But then she realised why that might be. "Dad."

The man stopped walking to look behind him. "Yes, darling?"

"You go, I will be there soon," she mentioned and pointed at the lift.

"Why?" Theodore asked. "Why do we always have to wait for you?"

Y/n squinted her eyes at her brother. "You can go fuck yourself, Theodore," she let her mind take her frustrations over.

"Y/n," her dad disapprovingly hissed. "Theodore, don't tease."

"Anyway, I have to wait on a few people. So if you would like to go, so you don't have to wait for me, you are free to go," she announced and tiredly smiled.

The father and son turned around and walked away to the lifts.

Y/n kept looking at the three people who were walking towards her. Her eyes scanned the street. Every curtain behind the windows was closed. No one was out except her family and the three people at the end of the street. It wasn't a great day either; it was cold and grey. She looked behind her, facing the lift and slopes; some individuals were moving around.

"Hey," Max breathed when he arrived at Y/n.

She turned around and smiled shortly. "Morning," she said. Y/n noticed his small, sleepy eyes. "You made it." Her eyes moved to the girl next to him; Victoria, his sister.

"I'm Victoria," she introduced herself. Max had told about Y/n, so now it was time to get introduced.

Y/n showed a thin-lipped smile. "Y/n." She took a deep breath. "Anyway, shall we go?"

"Sure."

"So you are the person who came up with this idea?" Victoria asked.

"I suggested it, yes," Y/n replied, wanting to add a sneer about showing up, but she figured that she shouldn't do it.

The three people were making their way to the lift in silence. There was no need to talk, confirming everyone was tired and slowly waking up. When they arrived at the lift, they sat down in the cart and moved up the mountain.

"It is so early," Victoria sighed. "I hope this is worth it."

"You could've said no, you know," Max replied.

Y/n smiled softly; it was like she and Max were thinking alike. This was what she was thinking about earlier this morning, when Victoria asked who came up with this idea. She only proposed it - yes, and complained about it to her family - but her mood changed when she sat in the lift with Max and his sister. Now she was glad she was sitting in the lift. "Once you ski down the slopes, you won't regret it."

"My eyes are having trouble with staying open," Max mentioned.

"How many hours of sleep did you get?" Victoria then asked. She looked like the only one who seemed to have no trouble with being awake this early after Christmas.

Max yawned. "Four hours or something.” He looked at Y/n.

She looked back. “Two hours." His eyebrows raised. "We watched The Santa Clause films, and then we started the new show, and we forgot the track of time.”

“Is it even responsible to ski?” Victoria curiously asked. 

“I don’t know. Probably,” Y/n smirked. 

"How did it end up?" Max looked questionable at her, continuing the conversation about the Christmas evening. 

"My parents got home. We planned to have dinner at the dining table, but we had dinner in front of the TV while watching Christmas films," she explained. And she adored it. Just a simple evening, nothing too special, but it was a great evening. "How was your evening?"

Max smiled and nodded. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. And it was fun. Simple as well, no pressure."

"And what did she think of your present?" Y/n quietly asked, referring to the evening before Christmas Eve.

He moved closer so only she could hear it. "She says she likes it, but I think she loves it. She's wearing the hoodie now."

"See, simple can be more."

"It proves. Less is more," he breathed, satisfied. "I need to forget my presents more often," Max smirked.

A smile grew on Y/n's face, and she looked in front of her. The sun was rising, and the sky showed beautiful colours. "That will be expensive," she blurted. Then she realised that money probably didn't play a role in his life. She looked at him and noticed he was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"You know, Y/n... I don't want to sound cocky, but money isn't an issue. But I like your mentality," he said.

Her cheeks heated up. "I know. I know who you are and what you do for a living. I said it without thinking about it. I still need to wake up," she mentioned and made up an excuse. Oh, that was awkward.

Max smiled and raised his eyebrows quickly.

The lift arrived at its destination, and they all got out of the cart. Y/n smoothly moved to her brother and dad while the three Monegasques followed the young adult.

"We're going to the top," dad mentioned. He looked at the woman and man behind his daughter. "Hey," he politely said.

Theodore looked up from his phone, and his eyes fell on the people his sister brought: Max and Victoria Verstappen. His eyes slightly rounded, and he made eye contact with Y/n, who showed a small smile on her lips, but her eyes showed the same excitement and confusion as his. He put his phone away and gave the people a smile.

"So if you want to go down from here, it's fine. Then we will meet down," dad continued.

The Dutch looked questionably at Y/n, who seemed to have difficulties processing the words.

"Uh..." Y/n looked at the Dutch. "We can go up?"

"We will follow you," Max said.

She nodded. "We're going up," she said to her family.

And they made their way up with the second lift. Once they were on the top, phones were pulled out of their pockets to capture the sunset and the beautiful surroundings. Y/n and Theodore were happy to be there this early. It was like their mood had completely changed. Max and Victoria figured out why Y/n and her family would get up so early for this. When they skied down, everyone got exposed to the freshness of the snow and realised that they would only feel it in the early morning. Y/n knew that this would ruin their look on skiing, since they got exposed to the quietness on the slopes and the freshness of the snow.

After their first run down the slopes, they all hoped in the chairlift again. The tiredness disappeared and made a place for enough energy and adrenaline. The sun now peaked over the mountains. Everyone took in the breathtaking views and excitedly talked about the different runs they wanted to do. Once they were at the top, Theodore and his dad separated themselves from the group to head over to the black route. Y/n stayed with the Verstappens for the red route.

"Now I feel like I can take it easy on the red route," Victoria mentioned. "Sometimes I feel like there's so much pressure from the pros."

Y/n realised something. "But hey, we can do the black route. There's no one out there now."

"And I like that idea," Max said and pointed at Y/n.

"Nah... Not for me," Victoria said, shaking his head.

Max looked at Y/n. "We will go," he widely smiled. "You're someone who wants to go down the black route," he continued and made his point.

"Sure," she smirked and popped on her glasses.

"See you down the slopes," Max said to Victoria and moved away.

Victoria made their way down the red route, and Y/n and Max down the black route. Y/n took it easy, she did take the lead, but made sure to keep an eye on Max behind her. Max hadn't found the confidence for the first few metres, which was odd because he was the Max Verstappen, but then he started to feel comfortable. At some point, halfway through the slope, they picked up some speed and felt the rush of the cold air against their faces.

When nearing the end, Y/n slowed down and let the skies control the speed. It gave her time to scan the area; the lift looked busier already. She looked in front of her, and the people she was skiing with, were already waiting. Then she bent her legs over the front of her boots and turned both her skis at the same time. She came to a halt. Y/n put the goggles on her helmet and widely smiled.

"Worth it?" Her dad asked.

She nodded, satisfied. "Absolutely."

"I already thought so."

Max smiled while listening to their word exchange.

"I'm afraid you ruined us, Y/n," Victoria then mentioned. All eyes shot to her, including a pair of scared ones from Y/n. "Because now we know how it feels like to ski in peace, fresh snow... early in the morning. And we are no morning persons."

Y/n straightened her face, she expected to hear something horrible. "Yeah, I'm ruined for that too. But now you know you have a choice," she concluded.

"This is a typical 'give and get' moment," Max said and looked around. "But that black route... It's not as scary as I thought it would be. I liked it."

"You did a very good job," Y/n complimented Max. "It's all about experimenting and finding your edge with skiing."

After a few minutes, everyone decided to get some breakfast, except Y/n and Max, who wanted to hit the slopes one more time. It was busier, but still quiet enough to enjoy the time at the slopes. As they rode up the chairlift together, Max looked at Y/n.

"Thank you for taking us up the slopes," he mentioned.

A smile curved on her lips. "Of course."

"I almost didn't want to go, but I'm glad I did," he confessed. "My alarm went off, and I almost wanted to make it up and go back to sleep."

"Same, honestly. But then my dad threw my door open and almost dragged me out of bed... But the thing is: getting up that early is horrible, but once on the slopes, you know what you're doing it for."

Max couldn't help it, but he felt drawn to her kind smile and easygoing manner. "Exactly. But out of nine of the ten times, that's always the case."

"That is true," she breathed.

"Getting up this early was so incredibly worth it." Max looked around. "I'm not exaggerating, but this was the first time I skied in quality snow and in peace."

"Do you get recognised often?"

"Neh, I mean, when not wearing my helmet and goggles. But I actually meant was to ski around without those annoying pros, or children who can't ski, or learners."

"Oh."Y/n felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "Yeah, that's also true."

As they reached the top of the mountain, Y/n and Max exchanged numbers to keep in touch with each other about the ski trips. Then they skied down the mountain, side by side. Max felt a rush of adrenaline as he raced Y/n down the slopes, enjoying the sun. Sometimes they stopped to talk or made a joke, or they would point out a new route. It felt like they had known each other for years, not just a few days. 

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u@sltwins@heart-trees @a-beaverhausen

[localcanadiancreature62]

Who was your first fictional crush?: N/A. I don't have crushes,i get incredibly emotionally attached to characters like they're living teddy bears whom i torture endlessly.

What’s the first colour you think of when I tell you to think of a colour?: Yellow cuz that fuckass triangle lives in my head rent free.

Which fanfiction emotionally scarred you and still makes you shudder to this day?: I don't remember the title but that one Stanchez fanfic where Rick was the bottom and bro said Daddy or some shit. I hated it. I hate it so much.

I’m coming to your house for dinner, non-negotiable,what are you making me?: Instant noodles,or scamble eeg.

Do you prefer lions or kangaroos?: Both can kill me tho. But lions cuz they're cuter.

Which fictional villain do you brush past the glaringly obvious issues for because you really like them?: Bill Cipher. Also Alastor.

What would accompany your picture in the Burn Book in Mean Girls?: I had to look this up but there's quotes next to the pictures and i think mine would be.. "Insane gay people liker. Do not perceive"

How many days would you last in the universe of your favourite fandom?: Oh god. I would immediately get kidnapped by gnomes or die from the Shapeshifter immediately. I do not... do well in survival situations like those traumatized children manage to 24/7. One day,but only cuz i'd be hiding in a building.

Have you heard of Mischief Theatre?: Naw.

Do you feel sorry for Medusa?: Yeah. Like i mean,girl got killed by a hero sent by Aphrodite when she was just vibing with her mother. Come on. Just because she's a monster doesn't mean that she doesn't deserve to live.

Which song makes you think of your OTP?: Sixer by Lilith the Laireaux on yt. It could very easily be put in Bill's POV even tho it's a self shipping song.

Which song makes you disassociate and daydream the fastest?: I randomly put songs in my head like a record player,any song bro. Any.

Also ty for the tag mootie.

@goblinofthelaboratory @decaying-faggot @confusion-personified @not-sure-what-im-feeling @i-eat-grease @midnights-dragon @angst-is-love-angst-is-life etc.

My own get to know you game:

Who was your first fictional crush?:

What’s the first colour you think of when I tell you to think of a colour?:

Which fanfiction emotionally scarred you and still makes you shudder to this day?:

I’m coming to your house for dinner, non-negotiable, what are you making me?:

Do you prefer lions or kangaroos?:

Which fictional villain do you brush past the glaringly obvious issues for because you really like them?:

What would accompany your picture in the Burn Book in Mean Girls?:

How many days would you last in the universe of your favourite fandom?:

Have you heard of Mischief Theatre?:

Do you feel sorry for Medusa?:

Which song makes you think of your OTP?:

Which song makes you disassociate and daydream the fastest?:

Tags: @weltato, @snarky-wallflower, @feathertru, @barclaysangel, @fanficwriter284, @silvershewolf247, @shadowbrightshine, @luxury-nightmare and anyone else who wants to have a go, feel free!

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hi, just wanted to say that I love your work! Especially with Benny and Frankie so much that I have an idea for Benny! Female reader (not picky about the name) meets Benny at a bar days after she catches her now ex-boyfriend cheating on her and they hook up at his place, but she leaves before he wakes up. She later finds out she's pregnant but doesn't tell anyone who the father is. Months later while still pregnant, her friends convince her to come with them to see a MMA fight and low and behold Benny is there fighting. He doesn't see her at first, but when the fight ends (which he wins) he sees her and she leaves abruptly while hiding her stomach since she's wearing baggy clothing. However, Benny manages to catch up to her, where she reveals the news to him. They then talk some more at her place where he reveals to her that she's been on his mind ever since that night and begins the start of something new.

One Night Can Change Everything

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader 

Word Count: 6400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Rea is a general nickname for a “reader” character that @mermaidxatxheart came up with and I think that’s genius! This is not beta’d.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Ok, that’s it. I’m making you get out of this bed now,” My best friend Sage declares as she towers over my bed, where I have lived for the past several days. Ever since I caught my boyfriend sleeping with my co-worker. Co-workerS.

Ex-boyfriend now, I suppose. 

I groan, attempting to roll over but Sage grabs my shoulder and flips me back over, digging her fingers lovingly into my skin. “I love you Rea, I do. But you have to get out of this bed. He’s not worth it.”

She’s right. I know she is. But we had been dating for nearly 2 years, mostly. It was on and off, but we had talked about marriage, kids, all of it. I thought he would be my forever but apparently, I was his “for now”. 

Fuck this asshole.

I sit up quickly, nearly colliding with Sage, and yank the covers off me, determination flooding my veins, choking out the hurt. For now, at least. 

“Alright, alright. I’m up.”

Sage points to the bathroom. “First, please take a shower. Then we’re going to Mick’s.” 

I’d almost forgotten about Mick’s, Sage’s favorite bar. Probably because it’s full of rugged, blue-collar men and Sage definitely has a type. Not that I can blame her. 

“Ok, but I’m just going for you. And science.”

Sage snorts. “Sure, Rea. Sure. Don’t forget to shave.”

—--------------

An hour later and I’m walking into Mick’s front door, loud music vibrating through me. It’s busy, but I’ve seen it busier and we manage to snag a couple of stools at the bar. Within 10 minutes, Sage is led to the dance floor by some burly lumberjack, complete with flannel shirt and all. I throw my hand up in the air in a “what about me” motion as she glances behind her, shrugging and gesturing around the room before focusing all of her attention on the flannel clad bear of a man in front of her, who is surprisingly agile. I turn back to the bar, taking my hand off the top of my glass, tossing the last of the liquid down my throat, coughing slightly at the burn. I set my glass down, my finger trailing along the rim, wondering if I should call an Uber or wait for my friend, when a man slides in next to me, flagging down the bartender. 

“5 beers, please.” His voice has a slight drawl to it, his tone warming me all over. 

“Seems a lot for one man.” Where the hell did that courage come from?

The man, clad in a button up light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up that opens to reveal a camo print shirt, turns his head to me and for what feels like days, I’m rendered speechless. This man is gorgeous - a sloping nose,  sandy blonde hair that flips out from behind his backward hat, some patchy facial hair, and the most intensely blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They glance quickly down my body and back up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Ain’t all for me, sweetheart. Got a table full of impatient assholes waiting for a beer.”

I cock my head to the side. “You lose a bet or something?”

The man tips his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking with it and I feel my body tingle. I could listen to that sound forever. 

“How the hell did you know that?” His smile is wide, all of his attention on me, his eyebrows raised in question.

I shrug. “I’d send the guy who lost a bet to get the first round, at least.”

He chuckles. “Smart girl…I’m Ben. Friends call me Benny.”

I tell him my name. “But my friends call me Rea.”

“I like that. Nice to meet you, Rea.” He sticks his hand out to shake mine, but before I can, 4 beers slide in front of him and he glances down at them, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly. 

Finding courage from somewhere, I lay my hand on his forearm and have to resist squeezing. “You have to go back so soon?”

He smiles again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with it. “Nah, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. Promise me you’ll wait right here?” There go the eyebrows again, pulling together and making him look like a puppy. Fuck I am so screwed.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He hesitates for a brief second before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Now that’s something to make a man move fast.” He winks, grabs the four beers, and heads off into the crowd, making his way towards the back of the room. Hate to see him leave, but damn I’m loving watching him go, his 6’3 frame easily visible over the crowd. He drops off the beers somewhere at the back of the room, turning quickly to push his way back through the crowd, his eyes locking on mine and giving me a sly smile. 

“You waited.” He slides back into the barstool next to me as I pull my leg from it, the universal gesture for this is saved.

Fuck his eyes are so blue. “You came back.”

A smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I look down for a moment, my mind going back to my ex and all of his cheating, making me feel less than. Benny seems to sense something, his large hand hesitating a moment before he gently squeezes my arm. “You ok?”

I shake my head, my eyes locking back on his blues. “Yeah. I’m great now you’re here.”

Benny is easy to talk to, fun, and flirty. He’s in Delta Force, or was, with his actual brother, one of the men that he’d owed a beer to earlier. We talk about everything and anything, Benny eventually pulling me to the dance floor and whisking me about, sometimes dancing and other times being silly and smiling when I laugh. After several songs, we need a break, managing to snag a couple of stools at the bar, sipping on a couple of drinks. 

“So you live local?” He asks me, taking another swig from his beer.

I nod. “Yeah. I don’t typically come here, but my friend Sage dragged me out of the house.”

“Well remind me to thank her. She here?”

“Actually,” I turn and look out at the crowd for several moments, finally seeing her in the back corner, making out with Flannel Bear Man. I chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a little occupied.”

Benny chuckles, taking another swig of his beer, his free hand hesitating a moment before landing on my bare thigh, just above my knee. “Well I can keep you company.” 

His warm hand against my skin has my brain short-circuiting. I can’t think of what to say so I return his question. “Are you local?”

He nods, his thumb slowly rubbing circles across my skin. “Yeah. But some water main or somethin’ broke in my building. They put us all up in hotels until they fix it. Burst a few pipes.”

“Oh no! Is your stuff ok?” I place my hand over his on my leg, giving it a little squeeze and move it further up my thigh, heat immediately rushing to an area not far from where his hand is. 

He clears his throat. “Uh, y-yeah. Well, I had some water damage but didn’t lose anythin’ big. They just have to put down new floors.”

The music volume suddenly goes up by several volumes, turning the place into a mini club. Benny winces and I can see that it triggers him, the loud sounds and people becoming a little much. I lean in closer to his ear, gently rubbing circles into the back of his hand. 

“It’s too fucking loud! Wanna get out of here?” I pull my head back to look at him, our faces only an inch apart. His eyes flit between mine, briefly pausing on my lips.

“If you’re sure, hell yeah.”

I smile and he returns it before I lean back into his ear. “Let me flag my friend down and let her know. Stay right here so I don’t lose you.”

He turns his head, his nose brushing against my cheek. “I’ll be right here.” Hating that I have to move, I gently place his hand on his thigh and give him a wink before turning, scanning the corner where I had last seen Sage. She’s still there, Flannel Bear Man sucking on her neck. I force my way through the crowd and eventually emerge in front of her. Sage’s gaze takes a moment to settle on me.

“Rea! Where’ve you been?” She yells above the music.

I gesture to where I came from. “At the bar. Waiting for you.”

She gasps as Flannel Bear Man starts to bite her skin. “S-sorry, Rea. I-”

I cut her off, not wanting to intrude any longer. “No worries. I’m getting out of here. With a guy. I’ll get an Uber.”

Sage reaches out and grips my wrist, breaking the suction from Flannel Man who only seems to just realize I’m standing here. 

“A guy? You found someone? Do you need condoms?”

“Sage! I have to go!”

“Wait!” She pulls her clutch from somewhere and digs around in it, quickly sliding a few foiled square packages in my hand. “ Remember, it’s just a rebound. Don’t get attached. Have fun and be safe!”

I can’t help the heat in my cheeks, but I tuck the condoms in my bag. “Thanks. I’ll ping you my location.”

Sage releases my wrist and smiles at me before I turn back to Benny, shoving my way through more bodies on the dance floor. I emerge on the other side and see him still sitting where I left him, hat turned backward and looking so fucking hot. 

This is all so unlike me, but I like Benny. Sage’s words echo through my head “it’s just a rebound. Have some fun.”

I walk up to Benny and he turns his head, standing and giving me a wide smile. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

I nod and he offers me his hand, which I happily accept, his touch warming me all over as he guides us through the crowd and out the front door, the volume immediately decreasing the moment the door closes behind us. 

“Now I can hear myself think!” Benny chuckles as he pulls my hand to his lips, lightly brushing them against my knuckles, his puppy dog eyes on mine. “Did you drive?

“Hhhm? Oh, uh no. Uber.”

Benny nods. “I have my jeep. I can drive us somewhere? Unless you’d feel safer using Uber?”

I study him for a moment, deciding that I trust him. “I love Jeeps.”

He smiles, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as he directs me to the parking lot, chatting a little too fast about his Jeep, like he’s nervous. He helps me into the passenger side, sliding across the hood to make it to the driver’s side quicker, smiling at my laugh. He starts the Jeep and gets the ac started before turning to me.

“Where to?”

It’s just a rebound. Have fun. “I’d love to see your hotel.”

His eyebrows raise, that same smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? You don’t have to. I mean, we could just get a burger or somethin’.”

I look down at my hands in my lap. Did I misread the signals? He was definitely coming on to me, right? I wasn’t reading into that? Before I can spiral further, Benny puts his hand over mine. “Hey, look. I like you and think you’re fucking hot as hell and would love to take you to my room to uh, show you the room. But I don’t want to presume or make you feel obligated or anything.”

I would choose a fucking gentlemen for a rebound. Fuck. I close my hand over his and meet his eyes. “Thanks, Benny. I don’t want to push you or presume either.”

He chuckles once, removing his hand to put his Jeep in reverse and then back into drive. “Sweetheart, you can take advantage of me any day.”

That breaks the awkwardness and has us laughing, falling back into conversation easily as Benny navigates through traffic. Gently, I lay his hand on my bare thigh again, wrapping my hand over his. He’s talking about something, I honestly can’t focus because he’s started to move, his fingers tracing slow lines across my skin as his hand moves further up my leg, getting closer to where I desperately want him to be. We hit a red light and the Jeep goes quiet, Benny turning to look at me as he slides his hand further up, his pinkie finger just barely tracing the crease of my thigh, heat and wet pooling just beyond his touch. My lips part and I let out a gasp of air, my eyes finding his. 

There’s a moment of hesitation but then I grip his shirt, pulling him towards me, our lips crashing together. He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, Benny taking full advantage to slide his tongue into my open mouth, a small moan escaping me. His free hand leaves the steering wheel to grip the back of my head, holding me to him as he explores my mouth. The car behind us honks and we jump apart, the light having already turned green. Benny sticks his hand up to apologize to the car behind us, driving on, but immediately places his hand back on me, this time, his pinkie grazes up my panties and I squirm a little in my seat, not used to this much attention. He stills his movements.

“Is it too much?” He’s actually concerned.

“More like, not enough.”

Benny makes it to his hotel in record time.

Heated touches and kisses down the hallway has Benny dropping his room key a few times. As he tries to jam it into the lock, I slide my hands around him from behind, moving up his stomach from under his shirt and fuck he has a nice body, my hands moving lightly over his toned chest. He finally jams the key into the lock and flings the door open, tossing his keys on top of the dresser. He spins back around to face me, his eyes blown wide and dark with lust. 

He swallows hard. “Are you…are you sure?”

I step close to Benny, gently take his wrist and turn his hand palm up. One hand still holding his, I open my bag and fish out one of the foil squares, and place the condom in Benny’s hand. He glances down at it before looking back at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Rea, did you get a condom from your friend?”

I can feel the heat blooming in my cheeks. “No! I mean, technically yes but she-”

He cuts me off with his lips, one hand wrapped around my head and the other grips my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel him hard beneath his jeans and I moan into his kiss, pressing myself against him so I can try to relieve some of the rapidly increasing hear between my thighs. He moves us and I feel the bed hit the back of my knees, but he holds me tighter before breaking the kiss. Both of us rip the shirts from our bodies, my bra quickly following. I reach for my pants but he grabs my wrists and stills them, his blue eys falling to my chest. He gently cups a boob and lightly pinches the nipple and I gasp, the small movement shooting straight between my legs. 

Then Benny sinks to his knees, eye level with my pants. He pops open the button on my jeans, sliding them down my legs where I help him kick them off. His large fingers trace the outline of my panties, the heat pooling there as I gasp at his touch. He hooks his fingers into them and slides them down my legs too, his eyes locked on the space between my thighs. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he half whispers. A half chuckle escapes me before it turns into a moan as he slides his nose up my slit, bumping into my clit. He growls, using my hips to push me down on the bed, tossing my legs over his shoulders like it was nothing. 

Which I have no time to think about because his mouth is on me, his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them further apart, widening his canvas. His tongue explores me, seeking all the areas that have me writhing under his firm grip. He somehow finds spots that I didn’t even know existed, sucking lightly, lapping, the coil of pleasure quickly tightening until a sound erupts from me, somewhere between a chant and a moan, my fingers gripping his hair to keep him in the same spot as he prolongs my release. 

My head is in a blissful haze, but I manage a whine as he pulls away from me, taking his pants off when he does. I hear the sound of the condom opening and I watch him as he rolls the condom on himself. I lean up on my elbows to see better, because he’s gorgeous, not girthy but longer, and definitely not anywhere near a size I’ve had in me. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time.” I blink, looking up at his face and see that there’s a hint of concern there, like he wants to make sure I’m comfortable.

I scoot further up on the bed to give him more space. “Don’t worry about me. I can take you.”

His eyes darken and he grabs my ankle, yanking me back down towards the end of the bed. I squeal, my body heating up again as he lowers himself between my legs. He pauses, his eyes bright as he glances between my own. 

“You’re so beautiful,” there’s that almost whisper voice again, his eyebrows pulling together so he looks like a puppy.

“So are you, Benny.” We take each other in for a few more moments, my body about to burst with all of the tension and hormones racing through it. “Now please fuck me, now.” I know I’m begging, but I don’t care. 

And neither does Benny, apparently, as he smirks. “Yes ma’am.”

He slowly presses his hips forward and I let out a moan as he stretches me, pushing further and further in. I’m not sure how, but he bottoms out, dropping his head to my chest, breathing heavy for a moment. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Gimme a sec so I don’t blow my load like a teenager.”

I manage some sort of confirmation sound, but then a moment later, he slowly pulls out and presses back in, repeating this a few times so I can adjust to his length. It’s driving me mad and I writhe under him, feeling every inch of him as he slowly moves in and out of me. He pulls out, his hips pausing as he looks down at me and it’s like time stops. Just for a moment. Then his lips crash to mine as he pushes forward quickly, sliding into me in one fast movement and I cry out, my hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin as his hips set a fast pace, his direction and speed adjusting to my moans of pleasure. Every time he pushes in, he hits a spot somewhere at the back of me, a place no one has touched, and it sends sparks through my vision, my entire body like a livewire as he pushes me towards the edge.

“Fuck, Benny, I’m gonna-” my body ignites, pleasure radiating out from my cunt, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, begging him to keep going, or stop, or do it again. I have no idea, my head so engulfed in pleasure. 

“Fuck!” He yells, pressing into me one last time before he grunts, little pants and gasps tumbling from him. His head falls to my chest as he comes down. 

We stay like that for several moments, trying to catch our breath. Eventually, Benny pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash can by the bed before rolling onto his back next to me.

“What’s your third favorite dinosaur?”

I laugh, my entire body moving with it as Benny joins in, tears running down our cheeks as my movements turn me towards him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question, let alone just after sex.”

Benny shrugs, smiling. “Had to break the tension and awkwardness somehow.” 

“Well that definitely works!”

His face grows serious. “You didn’t answer the question.”

After that laughing fit, I think on it a moment. “Pterodactyl. Because they can fly.”

Benny nods. “Interesting. What’s your favorite then?”

“Nope. I’m saving that answer for after round 2.”

His eyes grow dark almost instantly. “Round 2? Like, tonight?”

“Well, my friend gave me a whole row of condoms and I don’t want to take any home.”

—----

A few hours later, I’m laying in Benny’s bed, thoroughly fucked, Benny sprawled across the bed on his stomach, lightly snoring. He’s so fucking beautiful. But then Sage’s words echo in my head “It’s just a rebound. Have fun and bounce.” I sigh, unsure of what to do. I actually do like Benny, but is that just because he’s the first guy to actually pay attention to me in a long while? Self-doubt seeps in, my ex’s hurtful words and actions taking away the blissful feeling I’d had moments before. I shake my head, telling myself that if any of it was true, I wouldn’t be in a gorgeous man’s bed, a man who just spent the last few hours pulling every spark of pleasure possible from me. 

I quietly stand, gathering up my clothes. I get them on and lace up my boots, trying not to wake Benny. It’s better if I leave before he wakes up. Rebounds don’t work out anyway, so why prolong the inevitable? 

I turn to head towards the door and see the hotel pad of paper and pen next to the phone on the dresser. I stare at it a moment before grabbing the pen, scrawling a quick “Thank You” with a heart at the end. I slide it under his keys and walk to the door, glancing back at the sleeping form of Benny, the man who just restored my confidence. I close it quietly behind me, making sure the lock clicks into place and request an Uber to take me home. 

—----

Over the next few weeks, I try to get Benny out of my head. I try to stop thinking about him or talking about him. I know he’s a rebound, and those relationships don’t work out, as Sage has reminded me more than once. And I’m not sure I’m ready for a new relationship. I think. But talking to him had been so easy, effortless. Like we had been friends since forever. In a moment of desperation, I looked up the hotel on my Uber app and called it, knowing they wouldn’t give me any information about Benny. I can’t blame them. I don’t even know his last name. 

—----

2 lines. The pink lines emerge bright against the white of the testing stick, showing me the same result as the other 4 pregnancy tests I’d taken. My stomach lurches again and I make it to the toilet just in time. I close the lid and flush, wiping my mouth with a washcloth as I stare at my reflection. How the fuck did this happen? We’d used a condom every time, and he used them correctly. It must have been a faulty condom. Fuck, Benny. How am I going to tell him? No really, how? I don’t even know his last name and now I’m having his child. A knock at the door pulls me from my spiral.

“Rea?”

I sniff and wipe my face again. “Pregnant.”

She’s silent for just a beat. “Can I come in?”

I make a noise in approval and she opens the door, heads directly for me and pulls me into a hug where I let myself lose it. Tears streaming down my face, dry heaving breaths, all of it. It takes me a while to calm down enough to talk. Sage wipes my face with a cool cloth and it helps to soothe me a bit more. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

I scoff. “How, Sage?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Call the hotel? They have to have his info.”

I shake my head. “They won’t give it to me. Especially since I don’t know his last name.”

Sage cocks her head to the side. “How do you know?”

“Oh. I uh, I may have called a few weeks ago to uh try and uh…find. Him.”

She opens her mouth and then closes it. “That doesn’t really matter now. Do you know what you want to do?”

There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t know Benny’s last name. I don’t know where he lives, just that it’s local. I don’t know what he’d even say. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know a lot. But there’s one thing that I did know right away.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

Sage takes a deep breath and nods once. “I can’t wait to be an auntie.”

—----

“Come on, Rea! You need to get out.”

I sigh, rubbing the side of my belly. “I’m 6 months pregnant, Sage. I don’t belong at an MMA fight.”

Sage copies my sigh and places her hand over mine. “You’ve been cooped up in your room for weeks. Just…come out to get some fresh air?”

“By sitting in a crowded auditorium surrounded by drunks?”

Sage shrugs. “I’m sure they won’t be drunk drunk. Besides, Henry has a special section all roped off just for us.” 

Henry is super sweet. The burly bear sized, flannel clad man from Mick’s had fit right into our friendship, even becoming a sort of surrogate brother for me. And it’s clear to me that he loves Sage with everything he is just by the way he looks at her.

I sigh again, shrugging in a defeated manner. Sage squeals and grips my arm. “Thank you! Oh, you’ll have fun! Just wait and see!”

So now I find myself in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by people drinking. Well, ok the crowd isn’t bad around us. Sage was right - Henry had literally roped off an entire section just for us and glared at anyone who tried to grumble about it. He was really into MMA and had a couple of cousins that were fighting so he always had tickets to some match that was happening. Are they called matches? I don’t know. 

Whatever they’re called, we’re a few in, Henry leaning over to tell us about each of the fighters as they’re announced. These matches are pretty brutal - I didn’t realize just how violent they can get, even with rules in place. The last match ends and the guy with the mop comes back out, cleaning away the blood that came from the last guy losing several teeth with a blow. Once cleaned, the microphone squeaks back on to announce the next fighters.

“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing 6’3, weighing in at 195 pounds, I give you BEN MILLER!”

A familiar memory scratches at the back of my head as the crowd screams and the doors open from the locker rooms somewhere in the throngs of people now on their feet. Henry leans in to yell in my ear.

“This guy is great! He’s kicked my cousin’s asses a few times! He…”

Whatever he said after fades into the background, which has dimmed to a loud hum, as Ben Miller struts into the ring, tossing his shirt to the side, revealing a very familiar tattoo and his face finally comes into my view.

Benny. 

My stomach leaps into my throat, my heart hammering through my chest as I stare down at the man who I could never shake from my mind, even before I was having his child. Which he doesn’t know about. 

A bell dings and Benny takes a few steps towards his opponent, who immediately clocks him in his jaw, Benny’s head flying backwards. The man manages to get a couple more hits in, Benny almost absorbing all of the hits. But then the man hesitates and Benny takes that moment to attack, winding his way around the ring, jabbing at his opponent in swift, concise, planned motions. The man only stays up for a few more seconds before crumbling to the ground and giving in. The crowd goes wild as the ref holds Benny’s arm in the air, blood trickling down from his nose, a giant smile on his face. My stomach lurches and I quickly stand, yelling something about the bathroom to Sage as I grab my jacket and run for the doors, the room suddenly too small and loud. I shove open the arena’s double doors and stumble out into the nearly empty hallway. The doors close behind me and I pause a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. But then the doors open behind me again and I attempt to stand up right.

“Rea?”

Benny’s voice echoes down the hallway and through me, my insides simultaneously tightening with nerves but also excited and swooning at his fucking calming tone. My back is to him but I don’t move. He takes a step closer.

“Rea? Is that you?”

Fuck. This isn’t how I would want him to find out. But how would he find out? It’s not like I could find him. I didn’t even know his last name. I don’t-

“Are you ok?”

His voice is closer now, only a few steps behind me. I swallow hard, willing myself to hold it together as I turn to face him, keeping my jacket covering my belly. His bright blue eyes immediately find mine, a smile quicking spreading across his beautiful face. He’s still shirtless and I have to focus to keep my eyes on his face.

“Rea! It is you! I thought I saw your face in the crowd! Did you see me fight?”

I manage a small smile. “Y-yeah. I did. Congrats.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. That guy was easy but when I saw you, I thought maybe he’d hit my head harder than I thought. What…I mean uh, how are you?”

I sigh, my small smile dropping. “I…I have to tell you something.”

His expression turns serious. “Ok. But if it’s about me not calling you, you sort of left me without a last name or number.” He chuckles but stops when I don’t react. 

I hold his gaze a moment longer before letting my jacket fall to the side, exposing my belly under my form fitting black dress. His eyes immediately fall to my belly, his head turning to the side as he takes it in. I can see the moment it clicks, only a second or 2 after I moved my jacket, his eyes widening as his brain works double time to do the math. He points to himself.

“Is that…am I…the dad?”

I nod, rubbing my hand along the side of my belly where the baby is currently moving. “Yes.” I wait for the yell or scoff of disbelief, storming off, telling me I won’t get anything. All of what I had anticipated. But when I look up at him I see tears shining in his bright blues.

“You’re not fuckin’ with me?” His eyebrows pinch together, enhancing the shine from his tears and I shake my head.

“No. You’re the only one I’ve been with since my ex.”

His eyes shift down to my belly again and his hands start to reach out, but then he stops, looking back up at me. “May I?”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

Benny drops to his knees in front of me, placing each of his large hands on either side of my belly, rubbing small circles into my skin. I take his hand and move it, placing it right over where I’d just felt movement. 

“He was just kicking over here.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. “A boy? I’m gonna have a son?”

Fuck how can his eyebrows do that? “Yeah. A son.”

And the tears start to fall, quietly streaking down his cheeks as he laughs, trying to dab at them with the hand I hadn’t just moved. “Hey, little man. It’s me. Your dad.” A hard kick lands right in Benny’s hand and he whoops, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You got your old man’s feet!” He continues to talk to my belly in the middle of the hallway, not caring if anyone sees him. His face is animated and lit up, despite the dried blood caked under his nose and for a second, I can see an entire future laid out before us. A wedding, a house, dancing together, maybe more kids. The love. It’s only when I snap out of this fairytale vision that I realize I was smoothing back his hair. I yank my hands back and drop them to my sides.

“Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

He glances up at me. “Nah it’s ok. Actually, it felt good.” He watches me for a moment before his expression hardens. “Ok I need to get off this floor.”

He waves away my offer of a helping hand, gesturing towards my belly as he groans, standing to his full height before stretching out his legs. “I’m gettin’ too old to be kneeling on hard ass floors.”

We’re quiet for several moments, each of us just watching the other. 

“Why did you leave without sayin’ anything?”

I take a deep breath. “Benny, I…I’m sorry. I thought about you after that night. A lot. My friend had told me to just make it a rebound, to get my ex out of my head. Which it did, but what I didn’t expect was..well..you. I liked, well…like you a lot. You make me laugh, have some amazing stories, you’re funny, and hot as hell. But you also make me feel seen and heard. Like I wasn’t just there for convenience, which is ironic considering how we met, I realize that. I thought about trying to find you but the hotel wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t have anything to go by. And then I found out I was pregnant and I feel so guilty for not t- telling y- you, but I di-didn’t know h-how. I’m so s-s-sorry!” I can’t fight the pregnancy hormones anymore and the tears come, streaming down my face as I try to turn away, looking down and wiping furiously at my face. But then he’s there, pulling me towards him as best he can, his hand cradling the back of my head. 

“Hey, it’s ok. I never did tell you my last name or ask for your number neither. I could’ve but I didn’t.” My crying slows and he pulls back just enough to look down at me, wiping away a tear. “And I’ve regretted it ever since. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you either, Rea. But I really had no way of finding you. But now that we’ve found each other again, can I have your number? I’d really like to take you to dinner.”

I let out a shaky chuckle. “It’s ok, Benny. You don’t have to do that.”

He cocks his head. “Do…what?”

“Take me to dinner. Listen, you can be as involved as you want. I won’t hold you to anything. I just wanted you to know. But you don’t have to-”

“No. I’m not asking you out because you’re pregnant. I’m asking you out because I’ve wanted to for months and regretted it every day that I didn’t.”

“Benny, really. It’s ok.”

“No, I- will you wait right here a moment?”

I nod and he places his hand on my belly once more, his son giving him another thump before he practically runs back through the double doors. Once they close, I walk over to the wall and lean my back against it, my emotions running through me. Is he telling the truth? Were we both just fucking idiots? That’s an obvious yes. But still, I don’t want him to feel like he owes me. It would be nice to hang with him again, though. No, Rea. Don’t make him feel forced. The double doors fly open and Benny comes running up to me, his wallet in his hand. 

“I don’t need money, Ben-”

He shakes his head. “No. Well I mean if you need it, I’ll gladly give it but that’s not…here.” He slides out a small slip of paper from behind his driver’s license and unfolds it, handing it to me. 

It’s the thank you note I scribbled to him and left in the hotel.

Tears well in my eyes again. “You..you kept this?” 

His eyes sparkle as they look at me. “Hell yeah I did. I told you, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. But I had no way of findin’ you. I went to the bar every night hoping to see you walk in. But I never did.”

“I got too busy with work and then..” I gesture down to my belly and he laughs, placing a hand on my stomach again.

“Yeah I can’t blame you for not wanting to be in a bar. Especially your first trimester.”

My eyebrows raise. “What do you know about trimesters?”

“My sister was a hot fuckin’ mess during hers. Sick all the time, emotional, all of it. She felt bad about it too no matter how much we told her not to worry. My niece is 5 now and has the attitude to match.” He chuckles. “I can’t wait to meet this little guy..my little guy. Ours? Fuck this is hard to say.”

“Either way, I’m just glad you can say it.” I clutch the paper in my hand for a moment before handing it back to him. 

“So when’s that dinner?”

We’re married a year later. 

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

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[a-998h]

hi could you do a yandere Adam,Lute,lucifer and Charlie x kid reader who is struggles with being social and keeps to themself(platonic of course)

ok, so for some context reader is a heaven/hellborn child.

Adam

He's known about you for awhile

If we're following bibical sources he and Eve did have children, and Adam did mention "all of humanity came from this fucking nuts!"

So, you're not the first child he's dealt with

When the elder angels were making you, he saw glimpses and fell in love, even more if you look similar to human Lilith or Eve

When the elders were looking for an angel to act as your mentor, Adam jumped on the chance

At first, he was excited to bring you to all these fun things

Soon, your clashing personalitys make it hard

Though, the more protective he gets over you he uses it to his advantage

Does not try to make you more social

Uses you inability to be social to keep you close to him

Hates when you keep to yourself, he wants you to talk to only him and maybe Lute

Teaches you that you are better than the beings of Hell

When Charlie and Vaggie arrive for the trial, he keeps you away

Frames the Extermination in a way that casts Heaven and himself in a good light

Teaches you how to fly

Frames Lucifer and Hell as pure evil

Keeps you from every getting too social with people who aren't him and Lute

Frames Eve in an innocent victim

Makes you think he's the best guy ever and that Lute is a hero

Lute

She is a bit like you

Adam had important meeting so he left you with her

You two don't really bond right away

She acts like your bodyguard, seeing you as something highly important

After many months of babysitting, she becomes like an overprotective mom

Keeps you away from things that she thinks are bad for you

Looks for ways to make you just social enough for a child

Like Adam, wishes you would tell her things

Uses somewhat harsher ways to make you open up

Helps you with boundaries in relation to everyone else

Also frames Hell, Lucifer, and Vaggie as evil that deserves to die

Makes sure you never question how badass and heroic she is

When Charlie and Vaggie are in Heaven for the trial, she keeps you away

She thinks even looking at them will corrupt you

You're her innocent baby and no one can change her mind

think of the Brooklyn 99 meme with Risa and her puppy Arlo, yeah that's how Lute feels about you

Charlie

How you end up at the hotel doesn't matter

What matters now is that Charlie has taken the roll of "mom"

She introduces you to everyone

But, the violence of Hell and the Extermination makes her worry about you

Keeps you inside as much as possible

Loves for you to be more social

Is clingy with you

Keeps you far away from anyone or anything that could hurt you

Will sing songs with/to you

Is happy you're hellborn

You being hellborn means you can't leave her

Will use her power and status to keep you from moving out

Doesn't matter what demon type you are or which ring you come from

Keeps you as far from Alastor and the angels as she can

Might bring you around Rosy, only sometimes

Loves whenever you're open with her

Wants you to be friends with the "nicer guests"

Will be extra happy if you bond with your "second mom" a.k.a Vaggie

Lucifer

When he first meets you at the hotel his mind goes "My beautiful grandchild"

Bonds with you

Claims you help his depression get better

Spoils you rotten

You're his only grandbaby, he loves you

Makes you a custom rubber duck

Is just as protective as his daughter

Makes you pancakes whenever you ask

Tells you about how wonderful Lilith is

Helps you make your own rubber ducks

Tears up in sadness when you're not open with him

Your shyness at first makes him think you hate him

Tries his best to make you open up more, with help of course

Gives you a thumbs up when you're more soical

Doesn't care about your class or demon type

Will defend that you're his grandkid

[eldritch-spouse]

I can imagine a distant future of Santi overcoming his nature and finally realizing his dreams of having and raising kids. Then, one time he goes to visit his old friend Vesper who's like " So how are you and your *gags* chi- *gags* child *gags* the family is doing ?"

[*Snort*. This is a collection of little moments between Santi and Vesper after Santi has kids.]

Santi doesn't visit as often.

It's only a given, not only does he now have children of his own to take care of, the incubus also knows his presence has stopped being as pleasant to the Ring of Lust as it once was.

He's not necessarily surprised by such.

After all, Santi behaves in a much more subdued manner, dresses a lot more, his clothes have the stink of children, even when he washes them. He can't blame Vesper for scratching at himself and snorting in distaste every now and then. They are still friends, but life has taken them down very different paths.

That doesn't mean some encounters aren't funny to the incubus.

" No. No no! " The King covers his eyes with a clawed hand. " You did not just walk into my chambers with a turtleneck sweater. "

Santi's cheeks are puffed. " King Ves- "

" A fucking sweater, this absolute- " Santi can't help but let a cackle slip. " Take it off right now, I feel sick- I'm going to call the imps over to strip you if you don't! "

[...]

Santi passes his phone to the King, allowing the demonlord to swipe through an album full of family pictures.

Vesper's lips keep curling higher at every picture, no matter how much he tries to muffle that response.

" Well uhm. They're... They sure are. " The King tries, but all he sees are snot-nosed ankle biters who likely stink of all that's nasty.

" They are. " Santi parrots, a devious grin on his face at the other's discomfort.

" I- " A long, pensive hum follows. " They look... "

" Is it really that hard? " The darker demon snickers.

" I'm finding it, Santi. Be patient. "

[...]

While cooking, you get to listen to a call between your husband and the King of Lust on speaker. When the topic becomes inappropriate, both adults switch to infernal language. Santi helps your daughter dress her baby doll, while your son sits by the carpet watching his favorite show.

" Alright, I should get a move on. " Santi says, watching you struggle with a few pans. " We can catch up eventually. Say bye to uncle Vee. "

Both children parrot mildly enthusiastic goodbyes, until your son pipes up. "Dad? " Santi hums. " When will uncle Vee visit? "

" Never. " Comes from the phone immediately, and the incubus doesn't need to see the King to know he's shivering in dread.

Your kids start deflating, to which their father is quick to think of something. " Ah, see, uncle Vee can't visit us. "

" Why? " The little girl sits her doll down, now brushing its hair.

" Uhm. " The incubus opens and closes his mouth a few times. " He's trapped in a biiig castle. " Pause. " And there's a dragon. "

" A dragon?! " Your son's fixation has been mentioned, he's almost vibrating.

" Yes. " Santi nods. " It's very big. And it doesn't like little boys and girls. "

" Aww.... " Both of them huff.

The girl frowns. " I'm sorry uncle Vee. "

" No, it's quite alright. I'll live, the dragon isn't that bad. " Vesper seems to sigh in relief.

" That means a knight is going to save you soon! " She brightens up immediately. " And then he's going to woo you, and you're going to marry! Can I go to the wedding, uncle Vee? Can I? "

Santi covers his mouth with his palm so as to not openly bark in laughter.

" I uh- Y-Yes, of course sweetie. Goodbye now, the uh, dragon, is calling me... "

[bottledfool]

People who disagree with me couldn't possibly hold real beliefs. No, only I, a proud Democrat, stand for anything. I don't care about all the Palestinians the US and Israel are murdering as part of their genocide, and I certainly don't care that both Harris and Trump have said they would continue to do so, which means no one else ever did either. Clearly this was all a ruse, for they did not vote for a genocidaire, and therefore they stand for nothing.

Surely Harris couldn't have run a better campaign. Surely she couldn't have done more to distance herself from Trump or Biden instead of saying "I'm going to bring you more of Biden, except our border and military will be stronger." Surely she couldn't have tried to appear even somewhat progressive instead of courting the far-right and embracing figures like Dick Cheney, thus failing to endear herself to either party. Love him or hate him, Biden is a deeply unpopular president among the people from whom Harris needed votes, but an evil wizard cursed her, so she was forced to do and say many of the things that made him unpopular in the first place.

It's a shame she just had no choice and no agency as a person. She didn't run a bad campaign. It's the leftists who are wrong. After all, the candidate I like is entitled to leftists' votes. If they don't vote according to my specifications, regardless of what those are, that is a betrayal on their part. It doesn't matter how bad a candidate the Democratic party puts forth, they have to vote for them, because anything else is morally incorrect, and I just can't imagine why thirteen months of smug bullying didn't get that through their heads.

I suppose even enlightened geniuses like myself will never understand the truth behind every mystery. Now it is time to return to my odinsleep for four years before I do it all over again, still tragically stricken by the same disease that makes me unable to learn from the past. Surely it will work next time.

They called it… they fucking called it

To those who were eligible to vote but refused cuz of Harris- well congratulations! That orange fucker won. Hope you’re happy. Also don’t start bitching when all of our rights starts to get taken away (reproductive rights, LGBTQ rights, etc.) we fucking warned you. We warned you that if you didn’t vote then trump was more likely to win. Also you pulling this stunt- isn’t gonna help Palestine. Y’all claim that you are pro Palestine but after this election- you just proved that you really don’t give a damn about them. So congrats!

[dark-konohagakure2]

INDRA YOU SAY?!?!??!

indra with an arranged marriage, and he is nice at the start, not wanting to scare his pretty darling but then she does smth that pisses him of and then it goes all down hill from there, he turns into a pretty abusive husband, forced breeding, noncon, coercion, ALL OF THAT

SENDING YOU MY LOVE 🫂

tw: noncon, marital noncon, arranged marriage, abuse, breeding, coercion, manipulation, misogyny, power imbalance, jealousy, rough sex

All characters depicted are 18+

Indra isn't very interested in women or dating, much less a commitment like marriage, but the Otsutsuki clan needs two heirs around the same age, and Ashura has recently gotten married himself, so pressure falls onto Indra to find a suitable mate, but unlike Ashura, Indra is yet to find anyone he's interested in, so instead he has a bride chosen for him.

While not in his nature, Indra will at least try to be kind to the woman selected for him, he can't go scaring her away before he even gets a baby or two out of her, so he'll speak to her in soft tones, keeping his distance from her both physically and emotionally, even partaking in small niceties such as pulling her chair out and walking beside her instead of in front of her like he does with most people who are beneath him.

This honeymoon phase doesn't last very long however. Indra isn't incredibly quick to anger, that is unless it involves his idiotic younger brother. So Indra won't take very kindly to his wife talking to his brother so politely, even if its just her trying to be nice to her brother in law. Indra has to restrain himself from dragging her away right then and there, but he can't lash out just yet. He's going to wait until he gets her alone.

The very moment the two of them are alone, he'll drag her back to their shared bedroom, his Sharingan active out of anger. His sudden change in demeanor will come as a shock to his new bride, who is used to her husband being distant, yet stoic and calm, never raising his voice or laying hands on her, but now he's dragging her away while angrily letting her know exactly what she did to evoke his anger.

"You forget yourself, woman! Fraternizing so shamelessly with my own brother?! Don't forget you're only here for one purpose, and fulfill that purpose you shall..."

He's not gentle with her anymore, she's lost that privilege, he'll throw her down onto the bed hard enough to disorient her before getting on top or her, hissing angry words into her ear as he begins to pull down her bottoms, making it clear that he's finally going to force her to make herself useful to both him and the clan.

Indra is not only rough with his words, but with his movements too, thrusting into her unprepared cunt with ruthless abandon. He's disappointed really, he wanted the consummation of their marriage to be special and romantic even, but she just had to go and ruin it. She angered him into this state, she should have known the consequences, she brought this upon herself, or at least that's what Indra will tell her as he's bullying her womb with his cock.

Indra is going to cum inside of her, that fact is obvious given how he's made it clear that this marriage is mainly for reproductive purposes, and as such he's not going to stop after just one orgasm, he's going to cum inside of her as much as possible. Indra isn't one hundred percent human, so he has better stamina than most men, which means he can be fucking her for hours straight and hardly break a sweat, much less grow tired, even as her walls are overflowing and leaking with his cum whilst she begs him to show some mercy to her poor overused pussy.

But alas, all good things must come to an end at some point, but that will only be when Indra it's completely certain that he's impregnated his wifey with at least one child, leaving her cunt leaking and stomach slightly distended from all the seed pumped into her. This session of theirs had two purposes; to get her thoroughly bred, and to assert who's really in charge in this marriage.

"There... You've finally atoned for that bratty behavior of yours, hopefully our children don't inherent your disobedience, because I utterly loathe obstinate children..."

Indra hopes that this lesson was sufficient, because there will be much more just like it in the future. He's not going to coddle or spoil his wife anymore, she lost that privilege the very moment she decided to speak to a man that wasn't him, and now she'll never get to speak to anyone else ever again, at least not until they've had their beautiful children that is.

[rinachains]

this is a life

wc: 4.7k

contents: no curses au; geto x fem!reader; angst, fluff; brief mention of diets, implied child abuse; mental illness, smoking, alcohol consumption; reader is in an established relationship with someone else, geto is an elementary school teacher; he's lowkey giving reader a therapy session here; very loosely inspired by *that* scene from fleabag

a/n: this turned out way longer than i originally planned, lol. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/saradika

“And guess what happened after that?”

The woman across from you leans against the table, all eyes on her, waiting for a big reveal.

“She thought he was her friend’s father and not her boyfriend!”

Laughter erupts, a song of shrieks and booming echoes, and in the midst of it all, you sit with your mouth shut, wondering if their reaction is a product of consumed alcohol or an inside joke you weren't allowed in on.

Your boyfriend puts his hand on your knee – nearly slaps it – as his body shakes from laughing, swiftly glancing towards you.

You meet him with a strained smile.

“We’re talking about an old classmate,” he explains to you between labored breaths after he calms down.

“Ah, really?”, you say, dryly. Your voice is distant, lacking the interest he was hoping you’d respond with.

The red wine you’re sipping – an expensive one that your boyfriend specifically bought for this occasion – leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you believe it might etch your tongue away. You don’t like red wine, or any alcohol in general – you drink it more out of obligation than out of true enjoyment. It always leaves you with a wave of nausea the next day, no matter how much or how little you consume. There was at least the hope that the alcohol would loosen the tension in your body, make you open up; however, to your luck, it appears to have the opposite effect.

You’ve never been more aware of your body and your surroundings before; the clatter of dishes and the breaths you take through your nose ring in your ears.

There are only five people at this table; your boyfriend and his three friends from his old university days. And you.

You’re already familiar with two of them, but the third one, the other man sitting to your right – Suguru Geto – is someone you’ve just met for the first time tonight.

(‘By the way, another friend of mine will join us tonight,’ your boyfriend told you this morning as you got ready for work

You held back a tired sigh.

‘Another friend from university?’

‘Yep. Suguru Geto is his name. Cool guy, pretty close friend, we used to hang out a lot. He recently just started working as an elementary school teacher. Good for him, I guess,’ he explained as he buttoned up his shirt.

You didn’t miss how his tone dripped with the slightest bit of condescension when he said that last part.)

“By the way, my cousin dropped his new major,” his other friend says between bites, as he chews messy.

The noise makes your skin crawl.

"Again? Didn't he say this major was going to be 'the one'?" your boyfriend scoffs. 

"Yeah, some people just don't have a plan in life, it's kind of pathetic. Right?"

For some reason, his friend decides to look at you for confirmation. You don't respond, and your boyfriend puts his hand over yours before things get uncomfortable.

"Excuse her, she's just a bit shy."  

He laughs, again. The other two join in. Geto doesn't.

I'm not, you want to say. Your boyfriend always says that you're shy, but you're just quiet, more reserved, and he just keeps mistaking your reserved nature for shyness. You hate it; you feel the need to defend yourself, but you'd feel like a child, annoyed by your parent and overreacting.

However, he does talk about you as if you were his child or his pet, reluctant to interact with other people, still learning what it means to socialize properly, and he guides you on your shaky legs.

It’s no big deal, the voice in the back of your head whispers, you should be more grateful.

Yet you’re dealing with a clash of gratitude and buried guilt; guilt for that hidden monster of resentment that lurks somewhere deep inside of you, underneath the muscle tissue and ribs, waiting for the perfect moment to burst forth, tear through your body and cause terror.

It’s easier to blame this feeling on your inferiority complex - after all, you are your own worst enemy.

Your boyfriend leans in from his seat next to you, his lips brushing your ear as he mutters, “Let’s relax, okay? Tonight’s going pretty good so far.”

“Right,” you mouth back. Your voice not strong enough to vocalize that singular word. You try to muster an enthusiastic smile, you really do, but the corners of your mouth seem stuck, unwilling to rise any higher. They ache, and your cheeks begin to cramp. Your boyfriend gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheek – seemingly pleased with your response - before resuming his conversation about the past.

(they do a lot of talking about the past while you try to remove its bonds from your hands and feet.)

As your boyfriend turns away from you, you sense a tingling sensation, burning into the side of your face. Discreetly, you try to peer out of the corner of your right eye, only to be met with a piercing stare from Geto. You freeze, like a deer caught in the headlight, even though he’s the one who’s been caught. He leans further back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, not breaking eye contact. You avert your gaze after what feels like minutes.

A feeling of awkwardness rushes through your body as you take another sip of your drink.

What’s his problem? Did he hear what your boyfriend whispered to you?

Ignore it, the voice says again. So you do. Or at least you attempt to.

Despite your aversion to alcohol, your glass empties quickly, so you have a second, and before you know it, you're on your third.

The others continue to discuss their jobs, finances, families, future plans, politics - this is what normal, functioning people must talk about, you muse as you swallow a big gulp.

Once a layer of fog has settled over your vision, you realize the effect everything has on your body - it's as if you're not quite here.

You're in your apartment, the place where you live, at the table where you eat every day, and yet somehow you feel as if the place you're sitting in is reserved for someone else. An intruder - maybe that's what you are for tonight.

(but is it really just for tonight?)

You sit there, taking in the spectacle around you, until the image in front of you begins to swim, a blur of colors and shapes; now you're a background character, nameless and following the instructions of the script, watching the main characters interact - with their lively attitudes, ambitions and achievements, and overly complicated problems - while you do as little as possible. Your only purpose is to emphasize how important and memorable they are. Easily replaceable. Not worth paying attention to, not worth remembering; what a cruel role.

Then, with a painful blink, you're back in reality. But you realize that it wasn't some oddly vivid dream and that you weren't actually transported to another reality - you were here, at this table, in this seat, all along.

"Yes, I'm currently following this diet and workout plan," one of your boyfriend’s friends announces with an exaggerated sigh, and she quickly turns to you, giving you a half nod, "if you want, I can give you some details about it."

The look you give her is blank. Your raised glass lingers against your lips as you are about to take a sip.

Before you have a chance to answer this time, she turns back to the others and babbles on about some other topic.

You put the half-filled glass back on the table, your thirst now gone.  

"Ahh, I really don’t know how you can stand being around children every day, Suguru. I almost lost my mind watching my niece for only three hours!", she practically whines as she addresses the man next to you.

Geto answers with a chuckle, though it sounds strangely empty, as if something is missing.

"I also deal with a lot of adults, you know, other teachers and parents. And I can say that there isn't much difference between them,” he replies, “At least children don't know any better yet. Adults, however, choose not to do anything about their lack of…competence."

Again, a repeated round of laughter. Geto wears a mere placid smile.

"You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong. God, some of our clients are so incompetent, I sometimes wonder how they’ve made it this far in life.”

In the last two hours, you’ve learned: Geto isn’t particularly talkative, at least compared to the others.

However, he seems fine with it, sipping his drink unhurriedly and responding smoothly when spoken to. He exudes a confidence and carries a casual demeanor that a small part of you can't help but envy, for how often do you wish you weren't the way you are?

So you just sit there, lost in your own thoughts, accepting defeat for the situation you're stuck in.

“Have you heard about–“

Another clink.

“No way, that’s actually sad–“

Another loud chew.

“Guess who decided to contact-“

Another giggle.

At this point, the conversations have turned into a hectic game of tennis, the ball going back and forth between them, and you’re trying to follow it, maybe even graze it with your fingertips, but you can’t seem to catch it, it’s too fast, too-

"So, what do you do?"

You blink. Once, and then twice.

You turn your head to the right; Geto’s eyes are focused on you.

They're purple, a deep, gem-like shade, you note. You’ve never seen eyes like his before.  

His brows raise slightly and you realize that he’s expecting an answer.

"I…I work in a library. And I write. Or, well, at least I'm currently trying to."

A grin tugs at his lips; saccharine and foxy. For a moment, you fear he might eat you alive.

You’re not even aware that the other three have halted their conversation and are now paying attention to you and Geto.

"Oh? What are you planning to write? If you don't mind me asking."

You don't.

"Just a bunch of short stories," you answer with a shrug as you pick at the skin around your nails, "A big story is kind of intimidating, to be honest. I want to start small, it’s easier that way and I don’t have to put all my focus on one idea..."

Your voice loses its volume towards the end - a force of habit. Geto tilts his head and you believe to see a small frown appear for a second before it vanishes quickly. Replaced by his thin smile.

He shifts his body towards you, cheek resting against his fist. A flutter of his long lashes.

"You know, I once considered writing a book too.”

One of your brows lifts in wonder, "Really?"

“Hmh. A children’s book – for my students.”

“Are you still considering it?”

“I haven’t had the time for that yet, so I haven’t really done something for it.”

“Maybe you should have a mental breakdown too. ‘Gives you enough time to get real creative.”

Of course, right in this moment, your tongue decides to get loose. Surprise flashes across Geto’s features, clearly caught off guard, and you hear your boyfriend inhale sharply. You don’t even have to face the other two to know that they exchange looks.

What you said is wrong. It's always either right or wrong, right or wrong, and your teeth grit together, because why can't you just simply say things without them being right or wrong?

Suddenly, a low, muffled chortle reaches your ears. It grows louder, bordering on a genuine laugh, and you stare silently at the man next to you, the source of the sound.

Geto’s eyes form into crescent moons, and you become a shooting star, seen by chance, admired for the special moment you provide.

“I think I’ll pass. But many famous writers did create their works during hard times.”

You scratch along your neck, unsure of what to do with your fidgeting hands.

He continues, "Maybe we should switch roles for a day - I'll try writing and you can try teaching my class."

"Ah, I could never be a teacher, I'm not patient enough, I'm afraid," you say sheepishly, the tension in your face softening.

"I admit it's not always easy, but it's worth it to see the result of your patience. Besides, I had some practice before I started my job."

Your mouth opens, ready to ask another question, but then your boyfriend places an arm around your shoulder and squeezes it hard, as if he’s warning you. You have to stifle a yelp, his fingers digging a little too deeply into your skin.

“Maybe you should go easy on the wine, huh, babe?”

The thought of shaking his hand off flashes through your mind, but your body doesn't listen. Instead, you allow his grip to remain until he withdraws of his own accord.

His face screams jealousy – and maybe he is jealous, but he probably just wants everyone, including himself, to think he’s a protective and possessive boyfriend. He doesn’t have enough care in him for that.  

You used to believe that he did. Or at least you told yourself that – because he was the one who has pulled you out of the deep hole you were stuck in.  

He was the one who shook you awake and made you stare at yourself from a third-person perspective - and all that ran through your head was the word 'pathetic'.

Almost two years ago, you dropped out of university. You were at your lowest point, your mental health non-existent, and you had nothing and no one. And out of the blue, he showed up - with his sweet words and boyish charm. You had never received attention before, and suddenly there was someone, this handsome man, showering you with it.

He embodies the definition of ‘normal’, an average man - not someone with a dark past, a tortured artist, or a menace to society. He oozes the stability you needed during that time.

But you couldn't do anything about the doubts you had from the beginning of your relationship, because why would a man like him be with someone, a nobody, like you?

Sometimes he'd give you disappointed looks when you did something you usually did instead of what he thought was better. Sometimes being with him made you even more aware of what was wrong with you. Sometimes the normalcy you so desperately seek makes you feel like an abnormality.

You couldn't help but see him as your savior, someone who has achieved something so painfully average that you could only dream of. And he gives you that normalcy - at least you're on your way to it. However, the path seems endless, littered with ditches and spikes and numerous other obstacles that make you reluctant to continue.

Perhaps he thought of you as a fruit, not yet ripe, attracted by the potential sweetness, able to satisfy a certain hunger. But every fruit eventually begins to rot, no longer edible, and quickly discarded.

‘I don't deserve this,’ you told him once as you packed your things to move into your new shared apartment.

(one he'd picked out, claiming it was perfect for both of you).

Your confession tasted like honey in his mouth. He just gave you a little grin, nothing too big, so as not to show how his pride was swelling in his chest.

He didn't disagree with you.

After a few minutes, you feel a familiar itch in your hand. You start to get up, your boyfriend gives you a questioning look and you nod towards the balcony. He eyes you with disapproval, but you grab your jacket before you can change your mind and comply.

Every time you smoke in his presence, his nose wrinkles in disgust and words of complaint come out of his mouth. You’d take it more seriously if he didn't smoke himself.

Once outside, you put on your jacket and sit down in front of the steel bars of your balcony, next to some empty flower pots.

You haven't done anything, but you're exhausted.

The cool breeze on your face reminds you of drinking a cold glass of water after waking up in the middle of the night. The pain in your head is simmering.

The nicotine intensifies the bitterness in your dry mouth as you pull out a cigarette and take a long, long drag. A light, pleasant burn that awakens your senses in a non-overwhelming way, sobering you up a bit. Your shoulders slump, a pleasant shiver runs through your body. You needed this.

The sound of the balcony door opening makes you jump, the cigarette between your fingers almost falling down. You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting to see your boyfriend, preparing yourself for a scolding; but it's Geto. You can't tell if the emotion boiling in your chest is disappointment or relief - at this point, they've merged.

“I hope you don’t mind the company.”

You shake your head. Not too eagerly, you remind yourself.

One corner of his mouth lifts up, his gaze sweeping discreetly over you without you taking note of it, and he places himself on the other end.

There’s a good distance – intentionally - between the two of you, neither of you daring to cross it. A wall, set in stone, and the temptation of climbing it to peer over the edge lingers in the back of your head.

“Are you enjoying dinner?”, you ask him, scratching your cheek with your nail. You suppose that’s what a good host does.

Something you can’t quite identify glints in his eyes, and you can tell that he’s suppressing a chuckle. You feel the tips of your ears warming.

“I am. It’s more entertaining than I expected.”

You raise your brow at his answer.

"Hmh?" you see him pulling out a lighter and gesture to your pack of cigarettes, "Oh, you want one too?"

Geto dismissively waves his hand and takes his own pack out of the pockets of his black coat, "No need, I have my own.”

The way he lights the cigarette and brings it up to his lips paints a graceful picture, a fluid sequence of quick, minimal movements, and you can’t bring yourself to avert your stare.

He's handsome, you think. A unique but pleasant kind of beauty, a mixture of feminine and masculine features. This thought came to you the first time he appeared in your vision; you could admit it, but you don't allow your thoughts to go any further. You can't tell if it's out of compulsion or out of respect for your partner.

As he blows out the smoke, he says, "To get back to what I said: I wasn't sure what to expect tonight. The thing is, I'm not, or wasn't, that close to your friend, so I was surprised when he invited me... I guess some people just have different perceptions.”

“He claimed you’re his friend,” you retort, confusion laced in your voice.

“Then he must have a lot of them, if that’s all it takes.”

You press your lips together, swallowing the grin that threatens to break across your face.

Geto clears his throat, "I was surprised to meet you, though.”

You cock your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

The expression he carries is a strange combination of hesitation and determination, "He didn’t mention you when he invited me."

Oh. Right.

"He hasn't?"

The answer is written on his face, you don’t need another verbal confirmation. 

Your back straightens, your shoulder rolls back as you exhale heavily.

"I mean, why would he? It's not something he has to say."

You don't know why you're defending him. Maybe it's because you want to defend yourself, too.

"I just find it interesting that he didn't tell me about you when he invited me. I mean, if I invited someone to my house for dinner, I would definitely mention my partner. But maybe we have different views on that.”

Your headache begins to return.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say instead of lingering on the subject, trying to distract from it, eyes flickering between his face and the balcony railing, “back there. You mentioned something about already having practice before becoming a teacher.”

A that, his face brightens subtly, something you’re able to catch in the dim lighting. He sits up and brushes a silky strand of hair from his face.

“I did. I adopted two daughters before I started working there – Mimiko and Nanako are their names.”  

“Those are pretty names,” you say, hiding your surprise at the fact that he’s an adoptive father – seems like your boyfriend truly isn’t that close to him, “not that there’s anything wrong with it, but why did you decide to adopt them?"

"I interned at an elementary school before I knew what I wanted to do. It was fun, exhausting, but I learned a lot. But it was there that I noticed something wasn't quite right," Geto tells, a frown beginning to appear, "there were these girls - well, they're my little girls now. Mimiko and Nanako were quiet, well-behaved, but too docile for my taste. I found it strange, and when I asked around, the other teachers just told me to be happy about it, that it's a good thing. But then I started noticing the bruises on their arms and the way they would flinch when someone got too close or raised their hand. You can probably guess what that means.”

You swallow, subconsciously mirroring his frown.

"Anyway, I reached out to them and although it took some time, they finally opened up to me and told me everything. I went to the police and luckily they took action and got them out of that hellhole," the words spit from his tongue like venom and you're not sure if the sickness in your stomach is from the alcohol or what he just told you.

“How old were you?”

“I was 17 at the time.”

The way your eyes grow in size and your brows shoot up must be a comical sight for him.  

“17? That’s so young!”

“It is. But it felt like the right thing to do,” he runs his hand through his dark locks, an exhaustion that is more than familiar to you, "I mean, I couldn't take them in right away because I was a minor. They put the girls in a children's home where I visited them regularly. When I turned 18, I didn't wait a second to sign the adoption papers."

Your lips purse, "It must have been a complicated process."

His eyebrows draw together, a melancholy weariness settling over his sharp features, "Oh, it was. I came pretty close to losing my mind. But it was all worth it; if I had to, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."

The way Geto talks is soothing. Comforting, like a blanket being laid over your shivering body, and you sink into it, relishing the warmth it provides.

“You really are a good person, Geto.”

He leans his head back against the wall, “Funnily enough, you’re the first person to tell me this. Most gave me weird looks for it. Even my friends berated me for being too impulsive, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

“It’s admirable. And other people’s judgement doesn’t have to be the final one,” you say, pointedly, “…So that’s why you decided to become a teacher, huh?”

He nods, “I believe it’s our responsibility to teach children everything. Not only the basic subjects, but also how to behave, how to socialize. And how to ask for help.”

You wonder what Geto would have done if he had met you during that time. Would he have helped you? Would he have given you words of encouragement, taken care of you?

Without even closing your eyes, you can picture him in his classroom, drawings and inspirational quotes adorning the colorful walls. He stands behind his desk, greeting his students with a gentle, welcoming smile, laughing softly at their antics, answering questions with ease, giving praise when someone gives a correct answer, motivating a student when he notices their grades improving.

You'd have enjoyed to go school with someone like Geto as your teacher.

"I'm not sure if I could ever do something like that,” you admit.

"That's okay. We all have our own roles in life. I simply chose this one."

Are you happy with the role you've chosen? With the change you have made? Or have you inadvertently dug yourself a deeper hole instead of getting out of it?

"Do you ever regret your choice?"

"Of course I have tried to imagine how different my life could have been if I had made a different choice. But there's no point in dwelling on that - I chose what felt right, and looking back would do me more harm than good," Geto points at you with his chin, “how did you end up working in a library?" he asks you now, with no hint of judgment or disdain in his deep voice. Just pure curiosity. 

You don't, can't, answer directly. Coming up with an appropriate answer while your mind is still clouded by alcohol proves to be a difficult task.

“I also studied at a university“, you start, carefully. “Medicine. That’s what I studied.”

He waits patiently, giving you time to figure out what you want to say.

“I stopped last year,” you continue. ‘Stopped’ – what a great euphemism for ‘gave up’', “I realized it wasn’t for me. I didn’t do anything for a while, and then finally got a job at the library. It’s only a side job, though.”

Talking about it – even solely scratching the surface -creates a lump in your throat.

“Is that what your joke was about?”, he muses. You mumble a quiet ‘yes’. Geto hums, seeming to be deep in thought.

"There's nothing wrong with starting over," Geto eventually proclaims into the night, and you follow his words, "If you ask me, it's stupid to choose just one path in your early years and then think you have to stick to it for the rest of your life. We've only lived a small part of our lives so far, so why not consider trying other paths? Ones that also promise less suffering."

You nod, slowly. Let the weight of his words sink in, absorb into your body and mind.

“But how do I know which path is right and which one is wrong?”

This time, he lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no such thing as a wrong or a right path – you can learn something from every path you take, even if you think you’ve failed.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, a white cloud appearing in the cold air before you, only to dissipate in a few seconds.

“I guess you’re right.”

"I know," he smirks, and you let out an amused snort. Then, "Perhaps you should try a different path. One that is the opposite of what most people choose and expect. You might find some peace in a place that is not so crowded".

You have to say something back, something good, but you're too stunned to express any of the thoughts and emotions running through your head. 

"Do you regret stopping your studies?", Geto breaks the brief moment of silence.

Teeth dig into the inside of your cheek.

"I don't think so."

"Then I'm happy for you. Do something with that."

You find something swirling in those purple shades that you have been looking for so desperately, fruitlessly in your partner: understanding.

You don’t know what to do with it.

As Geto finishes his cigarette, he glances back at the door before turning back to you.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

A strong gust of wind rustles through the air, a whistling sound from the night sky, like a siren alarming you.

You listen to it.

“…Let’s wait a little longer.”

[joejhang]

my aftg hot takes

most of these are pretty lukewarm but i'm gonna get flamed for them anyway but whatever. spoilers ??? ahead ??? idk read at ur own risk

i don't think andreil ever say i love you to each other; i feel like the discourse about this is virtually endless ever since nora said it but honestly her explanation was so valid??? they're such a show not tell couple it just makes so much sense for them to show the "i love you" in their actions than ever saying the words out loud. esp bc neither of them have ever really heard those words and have them mean anything real or true or actually loving. personally i think their little percentages and the "i hate you"'s and kisses and keys mean more to them than an "i love you" ever could. i'm not a purist on this tho i do think i could visualise it happening maybe somewhere along the road i just think nora's explanation for this is very very in line with canon andreil.

i don't hate thea muldani; i've made a post abt this but basically my thoughts around her are literally just: she's a human being, and she's never gonna be perfect. i also find it very...interesting how the fandom likes to flame thea (an explicitly stated woman of colour) for being "problematic" and a "terrible person/character" when she doesn't act all that different from andrew, neil and kevin (white men) ??? idk it seems a little strange to me bc she seems pretty on par with them on whatever moral compass this batshit crazy fandom has decided to impose on these fictional and very much morally ambiguous characters. anyway go check out my post i go a lot deeper into thea's character and why she does a lot of things wrong but i don't rlly think she's deserving of the insane amounts of hate she gets in the fandom.

i don't think andreil ever get married; this MIGHT be me projecting bc the idea of marriage is just a very complicated and rough concept in my mind but also just i feel like there's something so beautiful about andreil never really putting a label on their relationship??? like they never define it by calling the other their "boyfriend" or "husband" they just are. they have nothing "concrete" binding them like a marriage certificate but they choose to stay with each other through everything. idk it's real to me but again i'm not a purist people can do whatever they want.

i've said it before but i'll keep saying it till enough people hear me: the aftg fandom mischaracterises literally the main fucking characters; i'm mostly talking about andrew and ESPECIALLY neil here bc neil is not a sweet, sunshiney, oblivious, blushy softboy and andrew is not a cold, unemotional, stoic, "conceal don't feel" stone. since i've already bitched on and on about neil's mischaracterisation let's just talk about andrew for a sec. i think andrew is actually a deeply emotional person and is fully aware of the feelings he experiences. does he vocalise or express them often? no but more often than not they show themselves anyway. him crashing out after neil was kidnapped, letting himself get walked like a dog by neil for three books straight, choking allison for slapping aaron, idk i could go on. but yeah you get it.

i don't actually think neil is that oblivious; before people come at me like "but nora said!" or whatever yeah, i know she said he's as dense as a brick when it comes to people flirting with him. considering how much of the ec the aftg fandom likes to disregard allow me to disregard this little bit of it, yeah? this isn't me tryna impose my own projections onto nora's characters, this is lit just me tryna explain how i understand neil josten (he's my bsf btw). he literally clocks his feelings for andrew in trk (after his deep convo™ with nicky) but he just files it away for later bc he doesn't consider attraction or romantic interest anything to be thinking about considering he's got the mafia and his serial killer dad on his tail. i also don't really blame him for not catching onto andrew's feelings earlier (tho doesn't he get pretty fucking close during that one convo they have in exites in trk???? someone correct me if i'm wrong but) bc dude andrew was out here sending fucking mixed ass signals like bro was saying "you are a pipe dream" and "i hate you" in the same fucking conversations like??? neil has always taken andrew at face value and he's not about to question him now. he's also never confused or uncertain about nicky or marissa and what their comments about him meant, he just genuinely does not gaf about them so he doesn't acknowledge them or pay them any attention in his narration. i truly truly think his dismissal of all the advances made upon him in aftg were borne out of indifference, not obliviousness.

have already said this in detail but i don't think andrew's actually a misogynist; the wording doesn't feel right. i'd probably describe andrew's distrust of women (esp. those in motherly/mother roles) as a similar ingrained wariness that neil has for older men. this is something borne out of trauma and shitty experiences that takes time and trust to unlearn. nora says a lot of things the fandom disregards and for me, this is one of those things i'm a little iffy about. misogyny actually isn't reflected in andrew's actions at all, i'd say. does he respect women? no. but he doesn't respect anyone unless they've actually earned it. and among the people he does respect and care for there are women (renee, bee). he doesn't treat women any differently and obv doesn't think they're any weaker than men are (considering renee wipes the floor w him their first sparring sesh). andrew's an equal opportunity hater and i don't think he actually has any sexist or even misogynistic tendencies. i think what is there is just a slightly biased worldview of disliking/mistrusting mother figures, given his bad experiences w tilda and cass (they've left him w more long-term emotional damage that's probably rlly difficult and complicated for him to work through esp considering cass did love??? him and he did want her enough to be willing to suffer dr*ke to be close to her; there's more to it but for the sake of word count i won't go into it) but honestly it doesn't actually show that much??? if people wanna say he hates women, sure, but for one, he doesn't hate a lot of things he's just very indifferent to them and two, he holds a pretty similar apathetic distaste for most people and things, so it's not like a very big distinction. i also think the whole "no girls" thing w aaron was very much a personal thing, and his mistrust of katelyn probably came from aaron's past (apparently negative) experiences w other girlfriends and friendships in general. and if i remember correctly the deal wasn't even "no girls" it was just "family only" which is why aaron didn't make friends w the rest of the foxes either. i digress but i don't think saying "andrew isn't a misogynist" is robbing him of any nuance as a character.

i like nicky and honestly feel similarly towards him as i do about thea; he isn't perfect and never will be and i think while the way he acts towards neil and others (see: matt, kevin) is pretty untoward and inappropriate, i also do see where he's coming from, esp after aaron's explanation of it. that it's a defence mechanism coming from someone who's experienced a lot of prejudice and harm because of his sexuality. obv i think everyone can agree his assault on neil was fucked up but i think nora was right in saying that nicky was high and drunk and not rlly in his right mind at the time, and he does apologise and i'm pretty sure she also said he and neil work it out privately anyway. he's a messy character and definitely not perfect queer rep but again, he's pretty realistic, and i think he's honestly a rlly well-written and complex character.