#but like. GIRL. you are at least in your mid 40s you should be old enough to be able to listen when people tell you that a situation is bad

[rileys-battlecats]

PSA, keep your dog on a leash when you're in a public, unfenced area. dedicated to the lady that just tried to reassure me, "no she's nice! put your dog down! she's nice!" babe i believe you when you say your dog is nice. what you have not considered is that the dog I am holding is NOT nice and WILL attempt to attack your dog if I put him down. also we are RIGHT next to a busy road and there is Nothing stopping your dog from running into traffic. pls put her on a leash im literally begging you it is SO dangerous for her to not be on a leash here

[aestheticaltcow]

Our Future

The Bear Masterlist

Next Part

A/N: I've been workin' on this one for a couple weeks now and I finally finished omg

“I just don’t know if I want her to meet Eva.” Tiffany sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood in the doorway, “Tiff, do you wanna meet her first or somethin’?” Richie asked, scratching the back of his head. “Richie, I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but she’s like, what 23?” Richie sighed awkwardly. “Yea…” Tiffany shot him a look, “Look, Tiff, she’s really great-. I want Eva to meet her.” he looked down at her hopefully, Tiffany sighed. He’d been okay with Eva meeting her current boyfriend, so it would be hypocritical for her not to let Eva meet Richie’s girlfriend- you. Tiffany nodded. “Just promise you aren’t breakin’ up with her anytime soon. I don’t want Eva to also get her heart broken.”  

~

Over the summer, you worked as a waitress at The Bear. You thought Richie was handsome from the start. He was tall and rugged, and you couldn’t help but watch his hands as he did paperwork or signed for the liquor order. His hands were so big… you couldn’t help but imagine what they’d feel on your body. Manhandling your breasts, wrapped around your neck, pulling you over his knee to spank you… you dragged yourself out of a daydream when Carmy asked the wait staff a question. “I’m sorry my mind was elsewhere… what was the question?”

It went on like that for weeks, Richie being the focal point of your daydreams. Your friends slowly started noticing how you’d turn down guys when you’d go out. Your parents noticed you were taking your time to do your hair and makeup before work. They’d assumed you had a crush on another waitstaff member or, heaven forbid, a line cook; oh boy, did they not expect the man you’d been dolling yourself up for someone 20 years your senior. 

One night, you agreed to go out with some friends from high school. You weren’t looking for a hookup or anything, but when you saw Richie across the street from the club at some pizza place, you were glad you’d borrowed a short cheetah print dress from your friend Mandy. You snuck away from the rest of the group and ‘causually’ bumped into Richie. He’d always thought you were pretty and quick as a whip, but he was significantly older than you, and the idea of even hitting on you made him uneasy. But, when he bumped into you on that night out, he couldn’t get the idea of you out of his mind. “Yo, cousin. You good?” “Ugh yea… was just sayin' hey to y/n.” Carmy chuckled when he saw you walking away from Richie, “She’s into you.” Richie adamantly disagreed, “She’s a good kid, but I’m way too fuckin’ old for her Carm.” 

As the summer came to an end, you’d turned in your two-week notice. Leaving  Richie with a sense of urgency to at least follow you on Instagram. By your last day, he did manage to get your phone number, which, in turn, led to some late-night Instagram stalking from both of you. Richie didn’t expect anything to happen. You were three hours away from Chicago, back at school, surrounded by boys your age. There's no way a girl like you would ever want some 40-year-old divorced single Dad. At least, that was until you’d come home for your Mom’s birthday in mid-September. 

You needed a break from your family. You saw Richie was out with some of the guys from The Bear and decided to make a move. ‘Casually running into’ the group was more challenging than you thought, but when Sweeps noticed you enter the bar, he knew why you were there. “Richie, your girls here.” he laughed; Richie was confused but was happy to see you. You two spent the night talking, “So you got a little boyfriend at school or somethin’?” Richie had hoped the answer would be ‘no,’ and then he could swoop in and show you how a man should treat a woman of your caliber. “Depends on who’s askin’.” you teased, making Richie chuckle. He offered you a ride home.

As Richie pulled up to your parent’s apartment building, you said fuck it and swiftly moved to place a kiss against his lips, the tickle of his facial hair adding to the stimulation. Richie was taken aback; he’d wanted to kiss her for months but didn’t think it would be like this. He kissed you back as soon as he’d realized what was happening. What should have been the perfect first kiss was ruined when your Dad saw you get out of ‘some random old guy's car’ and told you to get your ass inside. 

Your parents scolded you, “Wasn’t he your boss!” “Y/N! We forbid this!”. You were mad at the pair and returned to school sooner than expected. You turned your phone off and stared at the ceiling for a few days; maybe they had a point. Was Richie too old for you? He disagreed; if two people like each other, what’s the big deal? It’s not like she was fresh out of high school- she was 22, and he’d just turned 42. 

A year later, you graduated college and moved back to Chicago to be with Richie and work at a tech start-up. It took a while, but your parents had warmed up to Richie. Granted, your Mom still hated him, but you took a win as a win when your Dad referred to him as an ‘okay guy.’ 

~

Tiffany was hesitant when Richie brought you around Eva at first. She liked you, but she knew Richie better than anyone and didn’t want you to get your heart broken. She didn’t bring anything up until Eva’s birthday party. You were watching the kids play in the backyard when Tiffany saw an opportunity to talk to you. “Hey, Y/N, thanks for comin’.” you smiled up at Tiffany as she sat beside you. “Of course, I couldn’t miss Eva’s Taylor Swift party.” Tiffany nodded before asking, “Can I talk to you about somethin’?” you nodded, “What’s up?” “Might be a little awkward, but um, you and Richie? How’s it goin’?”

You squinted in Tiffany’s direction, “Why do you wanna know?” “I don’t want him back, but you’re just in such a different-” you scoffed. “Tiffany, I don’t think your daughter’s birthday party is an appropriate place to bring this-” “Y/N. I know Richie better than anyone. You have so much life to live. Don’t you wanna travel or get married or have kids someday? I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into before you’re too invested in this.” “Thanks, Tiffany.” 

Richie was talking to one of Eva’s friend’s Dads when he saw you walking toward the gate, “Sorry, I gotta check on somethin’...” he ducked out of the conversation to follow you out of the backyard. You wiped your eyes as you walked up the street. It was only a couple miles to the closest train stop, and you figured the walk would be a good way to clear your head. “Hey baby- you okay?” Richie called as he ran up behind you. You nodded, “Yeah, everything is fine… I just have to do some stuff…” “What about Eva’s party? Haven’t even had cake yet…” he noticed you’d been crying, “Did Tiff say somethin’ to you? I can-” “Richie- do you wanna get married again?” the question left him dumbfounded. “Maybe?” he shrugged, “Why are you askin about that?” 

You sighed, “Richie, I wanna get married and have kids someday.” you flexed your hand as you stared at the ground, “Okay, we can… we can talk about it later… come back to the party?” Richie said, trying to change the subject and cut the tension between you. “ Yes or no, Richie? Would you want to marry me and have a kid or two within the next three years?” “Baby,” Richie said softly as he touched your bicep, “Let’s talk about all of this later.” you shook your head. “Go back to the party. I have some thinking to do.” you calmly said as you looked up at him. “OK,” Richie nodded and kissed your forehead, “I’ll see you at home?” 

You haphazardly packed some clothes into a suitcase before grabbing your chargers and laptop from the bedside table. This wasn’t how you thought your day would end, but Richie’s answer- or lack thereof- was all you needed to know. Before leaving the apartment, you messily wrote Richie a note saying it was over and your Dad would come by to pick up the rest of your stuff later in the week. You felt your heart break as you locked the door behind you. It was over.

[pastelspoon31]

Chapter 1: What a nice neighbour! (Older!König x Younger!Reader) - NSFW

tw: age gap (early 20s reader, AT LEAST mid-40s König), manipulation, non-con, somnophilia, a little bit of pseudo-incest pretty much dead dove

A/N: Made a new account just to post this lmao

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | > Masterlist

"Liebling, I already told you that boy was no good for you." König's fingers gently caressed your hair as you sobbed into his chest.

"I know- I should have listened to you.." You sobbed into his chest, his large hand gently resting on the back of your head as he tried to console you.

"What did I tell you about boys like him?" He asked you.

You sniffled, trying to gather yourself enough to answer. "Th-they're no good.." You mumbled, and he nodded.

"That's right, mein liebchen. They only want one thing from girls like you." He told you, and you knew it was true. You knew that's all Billy wanted. But the way he had been talking to you, looking at you, touching you..

You cried for a few more minutes before finally gathering yourself, König still gently stroking your hair and soothing you with his words.

"What am I going to do?" You sniffled. "He's all I had and.. now-"

"You have me." König cut you off, pulling back so he could look into your eyes. "You've always had me, liebling. And I would never treat you like that."

You looked at the older man- Old enough to be your father, hence the way you treated him like your own.

"You're right.. You've always been here to take care of me.." You sniffled lightly and wrapped your arms around his neck.

König smiled at you and stroked your hair back again.

"Why don't we go to the living room and have a glass of wine and a movie, ja? Order in some food?" He suggested, and you nodded with a soft smile.

"I would like that."

"Good." König smiled back, gently tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

———

You were just a freshman in college when you first bumped into your neighbour, König. 

"O-oh, sorry!-" You quickly apologized, having run into a wall- Or so you thought.

"It's alright, liebling." You heard a low, smooth voice come from the man you had run into, and you looked up at him.

A foreigner, you noted to yourself- and though masked, you could tell he was smiling down at you.

"S-sorry, I'm so clumsy." You chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of your head.

"You're not the clumsy one, I wasn't paying attention." He assured you.

"Oh.." You chuckled softly, "Well, sorry, anyway."

"No harm done, liebling." He replied, and you found yourself smiling softly.

"I'm Y/N." You gave an awkward smile.

"Unit 309?" He asked, and you nodded in confusion.

"How did you know..?"

"We share a wall." He chuckled and gestured to the unit number, 308, beside him.

"Ah.." You laughed, "My bad."

"König." He introduced himself and held out a hand to you, which you shook with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you."

"And you." He replied, and it was in that moment that you realized how much older he was than you.

"Well, I have to get going, I have class soon.." You gave an apologetic smile and a small wave. "See you later, König."

"Goodbye, liebling."

With that, the two of you went your separate ways.

———

From that day forward, you ran into him regularly.

Whether it was just the two of you leaving your houses at the same time, or running into each other at the mailbox, you found yourself seeing more of König. After a while, you've gotten used to having him around and he even told you what that 'liebling' meant! It's something parental figures call their younger ones as a term of affection- a fuzzy feeling filled you when you first heard him explain that.

You have come around to figure out that he was a good person to look up to- always giving you useful advice and looking after you.

He had always told you to keep your doors and windows locked, to not go out late, to keep a can of mace on you at all times.

And when your boyfriend had started cheating on you, König had been there for you.

The older man would let you cry to him and would give you comforting hugs, assuring you that you were too good for someone like him.

"You're an intelligent, beautiful girl. He's an idiot for not realizing how wonderful you are."

"You're always so nice to me, König.." You sniffled as you hugged him tightly, resting your cheek on his chest as you stood on your toes to do so.

"Because you deserve it, liebling,”

After a while, the tears stopped and you had fallen asleep, the older man taking it upon himself to carry you to his bed.

After placing you down, he took note of your knocked out state and smirked lightly.

Perhaps the crushed pills he slipped into your drinks worked a little too well.

"You won't mind if I have a little fun with you right, mein hase?" He asked, gently brushing some hair from your face as he climbed into the bed next to you.

You didn't reply as you were out cold, and König chuckled.

"You were such a tease when we first met, always showing off your perfect little body.." He mused, his gloved hands slowly caressing up your legs and pushing up your dress as he spoke.

Once you were bare in front of him, he reached into his dresser and took out his camera, beginning to snap pictures of your sleeping form.

"You are so beautiful, liebling." He praised, moving the camera up to your face.

Once satisfied, he moved it back down and spread your legs, moving his camera between them and taking a couple pictures.

"Haven't had pictures of you from this angle before.." He smiled, his hand caressing your inner thigh as he kept his camera trained between your legs.

"I hope you won't mind if I do this from now on.." He hummed and took a few more pictures before moving the camera aside, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your clit.

You shifted slightly in your unconsciousness at the sensation and let out a quiet sigh, your thighs squeezing around his head slightly as he began to eat you out.

"You're so sweet, liebling." He moaned against you, the sound making your breath hitch.

If you were a wake, you'd have felt him chuckle, his gloved hand sliding up your stomach to palm at your breasts, the sensation feeling odd and making you shift.

"Are you awake, mein liebling?" König asked as he pulled away and looked up at you, smirking when you didn't reply.

"I suppose not." He chuckled and went back to work.

König ate you out until you were coming against his mouth, and he eagerly lapped up every bit of your juices, his own cock hard and begging for release.

He sat up and unbuckled his belt, taking it off and letting it drop onto the bed before he pulled out his cock, jerking himself off.

"Look at you, so pretty and wet.. Just for me." He panted and reached for the camera again, snapping a few more pictures of your pussy, leaking juices and swollen from arousal.

He moaned and leaned in, kissing your thigh as he continued to stroke himself.

"You taste so good.." He hummed. "So sweet and juicy.."

König continued to stroke his cock and groan against your skin, your thighs squeezing around him as your hips shifted.

"Liebling.. I'm going to cum.." He moaned, "Where should I.."

He trailed off, the idea hitting him before he even finished the question.

Quickly, he grabbed his cock, pressing it right against your pussy as he stroked himself.

"So sexy, liebling.." He grunted, "Your little body is just too good, I can't hold back.."

With a loud moan, he came right against your pussy, the tip of his cock nestled right up against your clit.

"That's right, hase, take my cum." He panted and groaned.

König jerked himself through his orgasm, and when it was over, he sat back and snapped a few more pictures, smirking.

"I should have done this sooner." He chuckled. "It would have been worth getting rid of the other boy."

You shifted and whimpered quietly, the older man taking a few more pictures before gently rubbing his cum into your pussy, making sure not a single drop was left.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, Y/N." He assured you and placed the camera aside.

"Everything is alright now."

König leaned down and pressed a kiss to your pussy, licking his lips and tasting himself.

"You're perfect, liebling."

[angelcakegirl]

ʚ dynamite ! ɞ

re4r!albert wesker x fem!reader

wc; 2k

cw; smut (mdni!!), oral (f receiving), ooc wesker... obviously, age gap (20s 40s), he finishes untouched(cz i push that agenda!!!), him n reader are kinda sassy hehe

note; ofc i had to give him the song from my bio since he's literally my husband :333 (ps i may or may not have pushed my issues onto reader and claimed it as hers or vented like mid fic) also i got to lazy to reread to lmk if theres any major mistakes HAHHH anyways enjoy

never in a million years did the albert wesker imagine himself with such a energetic and youthful girl.

old man can't even remember where he met you, but he sure as hell remember's exactly how he felt when he did. it felt so disgusting to even think about it! he's a man of power and ambition, future ruler of his new race. any and all free time of his should be spent in preparation of his grand schemes, not dilly-dallying with a 20-something year old.

still, you were persistent. clung to him, like a leech. not just that yet you managed to cling to his heart too, constantly pulling on the strings which made it. those heart strings he failed to hide away from you.

and now, because of that persistent clinging, you get to fully leech off him! eating away at his free time, his wallet, and his dignity. worst of all, he found himself loving it. how disgusting!

so he accepted it. he accepted how gross all the love in his heart felt. well, yes, he loves world domination much more but... there was some room in there for you in there. he didn't have all the time in the world to put towards you but he was sure it was still enough for you. anything he did was enough anyways, so you didn't care!

as he was sat in the office of your home, just doing more scheming– the usual, you snuck in and decided to sit up on his desk. letting your legs kick and swing beneath you. he always valued his relationship with you. you liked how you were his only person, and liked how you were almost always patient. almost.

today was kind of shitty. work was tiring, and your friends have been kind of off lately. really off. you'd love to wait for albert to just be done. done and ready to give you all his attention! so you could yap your head off about it all night long. even if he might regret wasting his time like this later, at least it was for you.

"albert, guess what." you cautiously started up, ready to just complain to him now! even if he wouldn't listen. "what?" his voice was always so monotonous, and husky, and deep, and dreamy!!... way too many ands.

you groaned to yourself, taking your manicured hands and running them over your face. "that girl again! i literally got no clue what i've done to her–" and he immediately cut you off with a glance above the frames falling down his nose. doing that sexy move he does where he pushes them up with his middle and ring finger, before looking back down at his work. "i'm busy, darling." his tone was always calm and patient with you. he had no reason to be condescending with you. "we'll talk about it later."

you were quick to give a bit of a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes and grumbling, "you're always busy." you tilted your head towards the window in his office. which he always kept black out curtains over, at all times. which, quite frankly, you found stupid. did his shades not make the room dark enough already?? "just do this later. i need you now!" you side eyed him. just to get a peak to see if he was even looking at you– and of course he wasn't.

clearly entranced in his work, you whined once again. "albert!" this time, getting his attention with a click of his tongue. he wheeled his stupid office chair towards you on the desk, sitting between your legs. "fucking finally." you mumbled under your breath, sprinkling your words with a pinch of salt.

still, he wasn't upset with this. he knew you were just in a mood from whatever happened during your day. so he'd hear you out, at least for a bit. "seven minutes, then i'm back to finishing this up."

a long sigh left your lips, your silent way of saying where do i even begin? he leaned in closer, placing his hands warmly on either side of your thighs. giving the flesh a small squeeze, indicating all his attention was on you. though, it was obvious enough by how his eyes stared right at you above the frames. those stupid things always slid down his nose.

"i'm so tired of her bullshit." you had officially begun your rant, while albert calmly nodded and hummed along to whatever you said. taking in all that you said. "i literally been there for this girl at her lowest, and she can't even bother to give me a hello when i fucking walk past her? not just her, but the group too!" you sighed tiredly. "maybe i should just stop being so nice to all these people. since they don't ever bother asking me if i'm okay."

well, you practically just did albert's job right there. coming to a conclusion for you. suddenly, he gave a low, sarcastic chuckle. "why surround yourself with useless people?" and you couldn't help but scoff. "...because i actually want friends?" "friends are stupid." of course he was indifferent.

"but fine then. keep suffering." he offered with a small shrug. albert always was the type to need every little issue fixed, asap. and he tried to push this agenda onto you. well, fuck that! sure, your social life is crumbling– but what's living without a few issues? maybe some of us actually like a little depression here and there? thanks.

"al, i don't need your help. i just need you to listen." you scowled at him as his eyes travelled down your figure sitting on his desk. he was slow to respond this time, his voice gruff. "i'm listening."

of course, you immediately started up your yap again. complaining about your shitty friends, shitty family, shitty life. till you were cut off mid sentence, voice immediately vanishing from the room. the feeling of albert's cold hands travelling up from the plush of your thighs to pushing up the old t-shirt of his you adorned. just so he'd get a view of your panties beneath the fabric. so what if you liked to dress like a bum around the house? at least they were pink, favourite colour!

"did i say stop talking?" his voice pierced through your thoughts. man, that sexy deep voice you could listen to for hours. he glanced back up at you, still silent. "i'm listening." he encouraged you again.

you really couldn't help but gulp, before finding your train of thought again. "well, yeah. i'm just so tired of them. all they do is walk over me and–" eyes going wide from the sight of him spreading your thighs to accommodate for his head. beginning to kiss up your thighs. "albert?" your voice squeaked. "gee, i'm listening, baby."

doesn't look that way. asshole.

you let out a shaky sigh as you recollected all your thoughts. "um, yeah, well– i guess i'll just accept i'm losing my friends." your voice noticeably a lot less confident, and a lot less angry sounding before. maybe albert's odd ways of taking away your stress genuinely worked? "but i- i don't know anymore, i guess that's what i think."

"wanna know what i think?" he asked through open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh, only travelling higher and higher. you hummed for him to go on, "i think you don't need them." he stated his opinion as he finally lifted his head from your thighs, but only to hook his fingers into the band of your panties. "may i?" you were quick– maybe too quick, to nod yes. lifting your hips as he slid the garment down your thighs.

he lowly chuckled, seeing that cute wet patch within the middle. painted there just for him.

he was quick to tuck them into his pocket, for his own more selfish use later, before latching his lips back onto your inner thighs in wet kisses. still giving you his opinion on the whole situation. "you never needed them." his small sentences broken up by his love for just... kissing you. "you have me."

you gave a small grin at his silly words, hands behind you on the desk to hold yourself up right. "you're my boyfriend. i still want friends." he gave you his final piece of advice, the last thing you'll get from him before he'll turn your brain into mush. "make new ones." yeah... hyped that one up a little too much. what made up for it was the kiss he pressed to the peak of your clit, causing you to practically jump in excitement.

before deciding to fully go in for the kill, he looked up at you with a small smirk. this was probably your favourite part. "do me the honours?" and you immediately began to giggle, knowing the routine all too well. you carefully removed his glasses, leaving a kiss on the bridge of his nose as you folded and tucked them away, off to the side they went.

he pressed more soft kisses to your clit, even kitty licking at it a few times, just to tease you a bit. making you wait with anticipation. finally, he latched his lips around the little bud, beginning to suck in a way which caused your back to arch, hips only pushing further out towards his mouth. hands went flying straight for his gelled back hair, immediately ruining the exquisiteness of it all. not like he cared right now anyways. his beautiful girl, writhing all from the works of his tongue was enough alone to make him not care anymore. what a simp.

the cute moans and whines made it all worth it though. you took grip of his hair, bringing your hips up more towards his face, practically trying to fuck yourself on his mouth. he was quick to forcibly hold your hips down, breaking away to humorously mumbled a small, "relax, i'm not going anywhere." though his voice lacked the energy like always.

his tongue moved down, beginning to messily thrust at your opening while the tip of his nose continued to rub at your puffy clit. he was quite literally making out with your second lips now.

his name was all that was on your mind, and on your tongue. just all of it for him! little whines and moans, babbles on how good he was. he loved it. stroked his ego. definitely more than it needed to be– cause his ego was pretty fuckin' big already.

"shit– albert!" your main phrase at this point being. "close. fuck– i'm close." and your warning awoken literal demons in him.

he quickly moved his lips back up to your clit, followed by the lewd wet noise of him doing so. noises becoming even louder when he brought one of his big hands holding your thighs apart down, taking two fingers to invade you suddenly. feeling your tight walls clamp all around him as he curled them up to stimulate that spongey spot inside you, while simultaneously sucking on your clit. a man who did it all, nice!

as you started to cry out for him, this only encouraged the sick man to quicken his pace. working to push you to your finish, straight off the 40ft cliff which was your edge.

when you broke through, vocalizing your dramatic finish all too well. "haah– fuck! cumming, albert–!" a random string of curses and babbles for him left your mouth, all sounds he knew all too well. he begun to groan lowly against you the second your release hit his face, dripping down his chin. his growls only further vibrating your now sensitive bud. only causing the finish to grow stronger.

once your relief washed over you and albert pulled away, you slumped back against the wall the wall. expecting your usual kiss from him, then his assistance to help clean you up as he mumbled sweet words to you. he got up, and– what the fuck?

face beat red, hand over his covered crotch as he booked it and ran to the bathroom. but once you spotted a wet patch staining the old man's pants you immediately began to giggle to yourself.

hah, so much for this interaction only lasting seven minutes.

[kissmethroughthebone]

Topic of the day: when to leave a man.

You ever see something a man in your life does and go "WOW, you're disrespectful to that woman?"

Like for example, there's this older man I'm friends with. Lawyer turned comedian. Great fella otherwise, dirty jokes galore, the works. He tries to keep a good balance of offensive humor yet still being respectful and not demeaning to women, doesn't always hit the mark.

Recently he told me that he and his girlfriend are "basically winding down", a.k.a. slowly separating and weaning off of each other... Why, you ask?

Because her mom died (iirc) and he decided that he didn't need to be emotionally involved in all that, at least from the way he described that.

"Too serious and gloomy." He couldn't emotionally be damned to care. She begged and said no no no they should still be a thing, but he's sold on not doing it.

Played with her feelings, they were "friends" for 10 years and dated for another 5.

He bragged that while she said she loved him, he never said it back, since he "has loved so many people already and that never worked out, so I'm not interested in that again".

And she was alright with him, over the years, going out to other countries to fuck women all over the world (he's 70, for context).

And that......... was a lot to learn at a random Korean spot on a Thursday evening, but, okay. I am someone who doesn't find much taboo, but holy fucking shit.

And paired with how maybe last week, he told me that two years ago, he dated a 20-something (why am I adding the "something? She was most likely 20,) in Thailand who he was planning to marry......

The timelines clicked for me this weekend, when I connected those dots.

That was already bad enough, but the context of "I had an open-ish (or she-tolerated-me-cheating) relationship with a woman and was fully gonna marry someone else and leave her in the dark" is.......... gross.

Reminds me of another woman my mother was friends with; chasing after the same guy for 30 years.

Like he's not a catch sweetie, you're finally being used for sex and money after several decades and still mistreated by a man who has happily done the worst to you.

It's so disheartening.

But here's some stories, as palate cleansers:

Over the pandemic, I went on a date with some guy when I was 19. 300 bucks (platonic) for a steak dinner topped with crab meat and some other nice decadent treats, a nice time was had.

The guy, in his 30s/40s, went on a tangent about how his last ex was a woman he dated for 10 years or so, iirc.

She was getting older in the years, wanted a ring. He said he wasn't sure....

That was all she needed to hear.

They broke up, and in less than a year, she had a husband and a baby. The man was devastated, and all the begging he did was for nothing, just like hers was. And clearly not doing well, since his mid life crisis of "I need to take out a 19 year old on a date and pay her 300 bucks to tolerate my company". And we didn't work out. He resorted to posting pictures of himself almost fully naked in gym locker rooms, with old men with their ass out in the back of the photo, hoping it might inspire women to talk to him.

What a catch, hmm? Ew.

At least I got that laptop money I needed.

Another one:

My last serious ex's brother was a pathetic loser in many ways, but ontop of the addictions, mommy issues, and lack of a job, he did once vent to me about how his last girlfriend, he dated for maybe 7 or 10 years, just about?

She was like "We've been together awhile, since we were teens, and I want marriage. Are you down?" He said no, since he wanted to be sure and wait another 3 years to be sure, since that was a huge commitment and he had no way of knowing they would work out....

Ah, so.... you aren't sure you and the girl you've been with for almost a decade, as a romantic couple, would.... work as a committed romantic couple, so you.... want to exist as a romantic couple even longer.... with a fake commitment, but no security? Almost reaching her 30s with no ring or any chance of actual growth?

Same story, she was heartbroken, but left. (She needed to raise her standards anyway, he was a joke.) Guess what? A year or so later, new man, and to this day has TWO babies. And he, meanwhile, is still 31 and JUST now finally got a job, almost two years after having this conversation with me, and is being made by his mother to do chores. Haaaa.

I remember specifically going "Do you think you ever want therapy for what happened, since your mom's divorces traumatized you so much?", and he just outright refused, saying he doesn't need it, and that love is just doomed and not something realistic, and marriage isn't necessary.

....and yet, these women and the men they left for are happy as can be, poster families for the white picket fence American Dream of love, adoration, and success. Hmm.

Seems like only the losers are the ones who have self-fulfilling prophecies, with both genders...

"All men cheat", "There aren't men that do nice things for you like that any more", and on and on and on. It's tiresome!

"Women hate me and I am never gonna find love", says the sex addicted man who refuses to develop social skills or ever risk rejection. And specifically goes for women he considers "low quality" or "tolerable", instead of having enough self respect or self esteem to grow as a person. Ew.

"All men are sleazeballs" says the girl who keeps fucking the men with sticky fingers and patchy scalps that loiter at gas stations, who I would pepper spray for approaching me, rain or shine.

Like, maybe you're not having luck with women since you have no personality or hobbies and see them as sex objects while fearing love, accountability, conversations, AND your mother (or lack thereof!).

Maybe men are good, but you keep screwing the dudes who will pick up the phone in the middle of sex with you to tell the girl they actually want that they aren't up to much.

Have some accountability, jesus. Even I am aware of my own mistakes made, present and past. At least I try.

Anyway leave a nigga in the dust.

They will brag about stringing you along and mock you if you do, and only miss you when you're gone, because they have weird mental issues that prevent them from learning empathy and common sense like we all learned at age ten.

And leave a dude in the dust. What one won't, another will. And ask yourself, "Would my future husband act like this?" I've checked myself multiple times on this, when I've made mistakes.

"Would a future husband be spending all his money on Patreons for Marvel vs Zombies board games and not actually putting in the required effort to keep me interested in him? A future husband would not touch or treat me like this."

Don't have a sealed image in your mind as that one person being a potential husband for you.

They are an avenue you can take, yes, but not your sole path.

(That's a bar, ooooh, yeah.... I hope yall quote me if yall say that anywhere else! Haha!)

Plus, sometimes doors close for a reason. If these women stayed with these pathetic men, then they would've had their patheticness manifest in different ways.

Like you ever leave an ex and see them get ridiculously down bad after losing you?

And think "Ew, what a mistake it was to date that person?", and feel better about leaving them?

Exactly. Better to have a "fuck, why did I date them?", and not a "Fuck, why can't I leave them?" Since there's a rich nigga on Bumble right now waiting for you to text them, ready to take you out in your best beautiful "saving for a nice night out" garments and high end special occasion jewelry to a steak and prix fixe dinner that NIGHT.

Stop waiting for a text back at your apartment with the lights off, scrolling Instagram and refreshing their story endlessly, there's self care to do and people to see! Can be covering up those tear stained eyes with aloe gel and getting dolled up for Fine Rich Nigga Number #3 on your roster!

Think big! Love you, be safe, take care.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Treats

It has been a hideous day.

New Girl and The Other Part-Timer really went whole hog on pulling every single short report out of the queue, leaving me with all the Annoyances and the Monstrosities. (I differentiate because all Monstrosities are Annoyances, but not all Annoyances are Monstrosities, y'see.) I actually left a couple of the Monstrosities behind even in my two more hours of overtime because like hell am I going to take every single one of the Monstrosities just because Other Part-Timer and New Girl can't be arsed to do anything but the little simple ones, particularly when I should be getting the lion's share of those because they hurt me less.

Today was made especially fun when the cold landed me with a pinched nerve in my right shoulder in the mid-afternoon. Numb pain all the way down my arm, and it was effort not to scream when I moved. I had to take some of the mallet meds, which I almost never do during the day, because I legitimately could not cope otherwise. That dulled it some, and it's a little better now even with the mallet meds worn off thanks to a hot bath, but it still hurts. It doesn't help that these things are painful at the best of times, but one of fibromyalgia's main horrors is how it amplifies pain. Anyway, I had so many Monstrosities - mostly the ones who are learning the art of the cut-up and have a tendency to start dictating before they've done key parts of the cut-up, so they trip over new information and throw it in any old where, including the block key, which is only supposed to carry information about where the sample came from, nothing diagnostic. Also Annoyances - there's a half-dozen of them that read out the lab number on every single pot label even though we don't actually type those, and that generally adds time to a report that none of us enjoy taking, plus one of them either constantly gets a really shitty foot pedal or doesn't step on hers hard enough because I had to email her three times today because breaks in the dictation cut out key information from the report. Not what you want to do when your entire right arm is screaming.

And the numbers. Seriously. New Girl and Other Part-Timer managed about 40 reports apiece - the short, easy ones. I did 130 or so. And of course, none of them are working overtime. I get that it's easier for me to work overtime because I don't have to commute, but for fuck's sake, they could at least make my life easier in one aspect, since I'm giving up my evenings and probably my fucking Saturday to keep us from going under entirely. So if they're going to do so few anyway, why can't they take the Annoyances and Monstrosities? At least sometimes? Why can't they at least take things chronologically?

(Because they're lazy as fuck, that's why.)

So anyway, I ate a thing, and now I am settling in for the evening, and I will probably require more mallet meds soon, and ... okay, I'm not entirely grumbling but I am a little. See, when I did the whole Next Fest Demo thing, I budgeted for a couple that were coming out a bit before payday. I hadn't anticipated deciding, "Fuck it; I am going to see how Veilguard really is before I talk myself out of it again". Ah well. Payday in a week. I can live without Luma Island for a week, and it'll still be on sale then, so it's fine. Besides, I have a Rook to get through the end of the world and the death of the gods and everything. Not entirely sure that's a thing I have the spoons for right now, though. Which sucks because I'm at the climax of Lucanis' and Bellara's companion questlines, but ... you know, right arm, ow. I'll see how I feel after I finish my hot chocolate and let my mallet meds kick in.

[dedmar]

TW: suicide mention

So I’m in this like, program, for suicide prevention. It’s a step down from hospitalization where either you go into it after your hospitalization for an attempt, or you’re referred into it if you’re struggling with ideation (me). It’s group therapy but like, instead of kumbahyah bullshit all the time you just like, talk about your ideation and experiences candidly. Like you’re allowed to say like “yeah I attempted last night, it sucked”

And what has happened is like, everyone is worried about everyone else. Will they come back tomorrow? Will they be okay? Should I talk to them? And when you come in the next day it’s like a party— people run up and hug each other because they made it another day. I’m talking mid 20s-40 yr olds. I met 2 friends 5 days ago— one is dealing with leaving an extremely abusive relationship, the other is dealing with extreme social isolation since his job became remote. We RUN across the room tackling each other to hug them. We celebrate us being there. We text each other how proud we are for them making progress. We bitch about how hard it is. When we leave for the day we tell each other we love them. It’s like we’ve been best friends for years because we’re pulling each other out of the worst mental health crises of our lives man, idk. They are SO protective of me, they’re like my mom and dad LMAO Another guy didn’t come in yesterday but he came in today and I was like BROOOOO YOU MADE IT!!!! I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOU ALL DAY!!!! And he’s like this, monotone deadpan depressed guy and he fuckin like, lit up?? And was like “aw man, I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna worry you!” And I was like “naw man i’m just glad you’re here!!!” And when I said goodbye and that I hoped to see him tomorrow he grabbed my sleeve and said “Don’t do anything stupid, Ellerie. We need you here.” And I was like aye you too Greg. we all look for each other. We text each other. None of this is part of the program!! We’re just strangers grappling on for dear life to each other. I think that’s like, the part I least expected out of group therapy was the camaraderie. We take “ride or die” to a whole fuckin other level LMFAO

I had a crisis Tuesday and these guys are like, walking me to my car making sure I get home safe, texting each other on the weekends to make sure everyone is all right.

You trauma dump day ONE. The program makes you sit down and tell everyone why you’re there and you don’t leave out the juicy details about SI or SH or ED. You give it all. And then they give back— you find out everyone in that group went through it too and they have your back and will get in the fucking ring for you. I didn’t know this was an option until my therapist was like “girl I think you might kys :( go Here”. I wish I knew about it before I was in this bad of a crisis. But I’m fixin my shit. Everyone is fixin their shit. And every day we rejoice.

[sins-of-the-sea]

//I made that post because how the Seven’s ages are distributed has really reflected the age I was when I initially created them: 15 years old. I was a literal child. 19 (Ruixiong’s age, as the youngest, at the time I created him) felt like the age of an adult with everything of his life put together: a career, a home, all these amazing adult things and adult wisdoms, etc. But now as a 35 year old, I realize 19 is still, in many ways, still a baby. The difference is that he’d be legally old enough to sign marriage papers and conceive children. But still a baby when it comes to life experiences. I’ve aged him up to 21 for reasons (and thus making him only 1 year younger than the Twins and 2 for Giovanni), which I will get to in a bit.

Folks need to know that your life does not end if you didn’t get married and have a job by the age of 20. You would be, in fact, just starting your adult life altogether. The tragedy present in the Seven, then, lies in how much their life COULD have kept growing, COULD have gotten better, COULD have sought that happily ever after--but it has halted thanks to the Master.

The four Himbos are young meni in early adulthood (21, 22, 23) who cannot mature further even with immortality and the years passing by because the Master is constantly stunting their emotional growth by focusing on traumas they haven’t overcome by the time their ages locked. Their lives have not begun yet and they are forced to remain stupid and reckless. 500 years can pass and Ruixiong will still behave and think like he’s 21 years old. He’ll be smarter (some), more world experienced, develop a better sense of self-awareness and introspection, but still be a dumbfuck who’ll play videogames until 6 AM because he doesn’t have to worry about getting up and going to work at a reasonable hour. Guy and Phoebus will still mourn over not having a proper father to guide them into a time they should be starting their lives despite outliving several hundred generations. And so on and so forth.

Meanwhile, you have Josep and Abena, whom--believe it or not--is still considered early adulthood (just older than 20). At 35 and 38, they SHOULD have been long married, they SHOULD have established careers, they SHOULD have had their livelihoods started and settling--but they DIDN’T. Versus someone in their early 20s when they are expected to START obtaining these things but didn’t get a chance to START AT ALL. So the angsts between these two groups will look different altogether. Abena’s would look especially different as a woman in the 1600s-1700s; at age 38, she’d have suffered two miscarriages and is approaching the time of her life she may never have a pregnancy ever again. An 18 year old girl can never understand or grasp that angst and SHOULDN’T have to worry about that herself unless she had fooled around irresponsibly during high school... and EVEN THEN, a 38 year old woman fearing being barren would look different from an 18 year old. They cannot be compared despite the angst being the same. The stages of life are not the same. The 18 year old can at least get help and support from her parents. The 38 year old is, more often than not, on her own.

Believe it or not, the prime of your life is NOT in college or high school--it’s your middle adulthood. By the time you hit your 40s-50s, your kids would have been old enough to marry and have children of your own--and thus, your bloodline and progeny are secured. You’re expected to be financially secured because you’ve had enough work experience in whatever field you started in your early adulthood to get you settled. You’re either on your way to paying off that home mortgage or it’s been finally paid off. You are at the point in life where the direction to keep on blooming is however the hell you want it to be. Mid-life crises stories happen here because the individual is at a point of life they didn’t want to be but are anyway, so they try to recreate a “new start”. This is where you will start noticing actors getting their accolades for their work instead of being beautiful. This is where CEOs get their faces on magazines. Etc etc. Most creatives are getting to this point where the best of their work are being recognized. All of this is happening BECAUSE the priorities of having kids and families are usually realized by then. Rashid’s tragedy is that he, for all the stability he has been providing for his family, for all the settling he’s done, something went wrong and he can’t grasp by, of all times, it’s happening then. His angsting over Sukhbir and Assad would look SO VERY DIFFERENT if he was 20. And with them out of his life, all he can think of is “....What now? Where do I go from here?” There is nothing. He got his career, he got his home, he got the family... and it vanished in seemingly an instant. He will NOT try to prioritize finding a new wife and getting new kids unless that’s what he wants, but he DOESN’T because he can’t grasp WHY he lost his first ones to begin with. And until he gets it, he is emotionally and mentally stuck at 45 no matter how many centuries pass.

So here is how I connect age-appropriate angst despite how long lived the Seven are. Note I have no one in late adulthood (70s+), and the reason for that is because by that time in that life, the person should be expecting to pass on anytime soon, and thus, should focus on making sure whoever and whatever they are leaving behind outlives them. Dying starts to feel less scary at this time even if the person is happy, healthy, and surrounded by loved ones in a prosperous environment. Acceptance seeps in, and if it doesn’t, than that means something is wrong. Of course, dying still sucks, so they would focus on making sure the last years of their lives remain happy and healthy; thus the emphasis on maintaining good health over finding a new wife or whatever. And frankly, that is all useless to the Master. He’s not interested on people who are a foot from the grave. They still need to be strong and useful--and easier to manipulate and shape.

As for why I only aged up Ruixiong to just 21 and not diversify the Himbos’ ages more? Devil’s Eye is a story that emphasizes forgiveness, letting go, and continuing to grow. In many ways, it’s a coming-of-age story---not in learning to become a MAN or whatever, but in recognizing the start of your life is NOT the end of it. You’ll grow. You’ll keep growing. As long as you still have breath, you will keep on growing. This isn’t to say your life is over by the time you’re 70, however; as I said above, if there is something troubling you greatly by the time you are old enough to keel over at any given time, it still needs to be addressed and overcome, because everyone deserves to have lived their lives to the fullest, free of regret and sin. So I suppose it’s “coming of age” but not just for teens. It’s for the 20 year olds and the 40 year olds, and for folks in the Hero Crews, 50s, 60s, or even 70s. Immortality sucks not just because you outlive everyone, but also because your growth either remains stunted or grows forever without direction and closure. And no one should be shackled to their trauma and regret.

[crane--here]

permission to be annoying granted

aiden: he's canonically around 20 years old and honestly it SHOWS. he has very little knowledge about the world before the fall and is generally very. VERY inexperienced. everyone comments on how young he is. also i KNOW that tymon apparently claimed that aiden is quite tall but i don't see it. at all. even jonah claimed that aiden is on the shorter side iirc and honestly - it works way better considering he excels at parkour. bigger height is a disadvantage when it comes to jumping around like that and generally makes you less sneaky (which - side note - is also why i headcanon that crane had harder time parkouring or doing things like crawling in the vents because he's big and broad lmao). so yeah aiden is small, on eye level with lawan. scrawny too. as for ethnicity? i personally headcanon that he's a white american simply due to his accent lol. i know he could've very well picked it up from (i presume?) soldiers that "raised" him or other survivors but even then my hc is that his parents were american immigrants that sought shelter in villedor. waltz simply snatched a tourist child 😭

hakon: at the VERY LEAST in his mid 30s. could be older but then tbh that makes certain plot points even more icky... (iykyk). so i'm sticking to the "is 10 years older than aiden" consensus. he looks older than he is but hey it's because he's got an old man's soul in him you know. poke him and he shatters like glass. i agree with the height! he's... honestly pretty average lol. i guess fit considering he was a soldier and then nightrunner but that's it. and i do firmly believe he's french. villedor seems to be somewhere in france (and it seems like hakon IS from this city), the accent, the appearance (it's the vibes. can't explain it) and also the guy he's modeled after IS french so i mean. hon hon hon

lawan: we do know she's older than aiden! she was 9 when aiden was 5, so i wager around the same age you gave her. a bit on the taller side for a girl - like i mentioned before, on eye level with aiden. pretty fit and agile! also i love love LOVE the SEA headcanon. not sure from where exactly she'd be (and honestly i think she wouldn't have any idea herself either, seeing how distant her parents were). i also hc her as part black seeing as rosario dawson is her face AND voice

frank: an old fuck, 50+ years old. tries to reason he's not THAT old but considering they live in a world where mortality rate is higher than ever before he's considered a senior citizen. pretty tall! has a beer belly. bit of a dad bod all around honestly. he's irish

juan: honestly he seems like he's in his late 30s bordering on very early 40s tbh. that kind of age where he still feels young but is experienced you know? he's very. VERY defensive about claiming he's 6'0. he's 5'10 actually. he gets unbelievably pissed off about people pointing that out it's hilarious. seething because he fears his height might scare away the hoes. anyway i headcanon that he's of argentinian descent

waltz: another old fuck. 50+ years old. and oh he's tall alright. okay maybe not. terrifyingly and menacingly so but still considered a tall guy. LOVE the idea that he's greek. adopting this hc now. other than that i think he's american really (going by his name and all). he was simply transferred to villedor by the gre when the thv outbreak progressed

sophie: i hc she's 27 years old or so. i absolutely love the idea that she's the archetype of the short person who can and will kick your ass. as she should. no idea what her and barney's nationality could be. simply american i guess

barney: around aiden's age (which makes aiden addressing him like he's younger infinitely funnier). tall and lanky

and bonus spoiler heavy bloody ties headcanons under :3

astrid: TALL QUEEN. i believe she was in her early 30s before the fall so she'd be in her 50s as well. aged like fine wine basically. afro-american, she came to villedor in pursuit of better career opportunities and she hit a gold spot there

ogar: oh he's BIG. the old age might've shrinked him just a little but you can still tell he was a fighting champion. also in his 50s. not sure about his race or nationality, other than that he's DEFINITELY got italian in him

ciro: BABY BOY!!! he did NOT inherit his parents' tall genes. he's not that short (he's taller than aiden in my hc) but it's still funny when you put him next to his family. honestly i would believe if he's a little bit younger than aiden but only by like. a year. can't go lower than aiden's age 😭 ciro is just really immature. he's mixed race because i do believe in the theory that astrid might actually be his mom

abel: A FUCKING GIANT LIKE HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN HIM. that fucking npc that says "he's so big" when we first meet him. yeah i feel you. he even towers over his dad. i headcanon he might be in his mid 20s. like up to 28 or so. same as ciro, he's mixed race

Mutuals lemme know your DL2 character height/age/nationality headcanons cuz I have no idea what is going on

Aiden: I have zero idea. He was born pre-fall so I’d say 18-20 ish? Every time he drinks I just go wow wait till Craaaane find out about this. Height idk I hc him as. Very short. Scrawny. Underfed stray.

Hakon: OKAY I know everyone says he’s French buy,,,does he actually say that in game? Is it just the name+accent tho. Age I’d say 35 or older. Average height. Maybe 6’0 under. Lame old fuck.

Lawan: I’m really buying the sea idea, I think she’s around 23-25.

Sophie: couldn’t decide if I want her to be Lawan’s tall/mature gf or baby queen.

Barney: obviously younger than Sophie around 23 no more than 25. Very tall. Scrawny. Boy got his ears pierced at Clair’s but at least he’s over drinking age.

Aitor and Juan I guess both in their early 40s, although I think Aitor’s older. Neither of them are tall. (Oh yeaaah Aitor’s British)

Waltz: no idea. Not full white tho. I’d say some middle eastern or greek heritage.

Astrid: my fucking mom she looks stunning I don’t care about her age😭😭😭

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 10

WC: 777

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: alcohol consumption, mentions of intoxication, mentions of institutionalization, age difference

A/N: professionals like to party too :P

🧠

“There is a party downstairs if you would like to attend. I imagine it would be an opportunity for you to let loose or whatever the college kids say these days,” Dr. Kreizler says to you as you leave the seminar.

“Pfft,” you huff out. “I’m 26, I don’t exactly hang out with ‘college kids’ these days.”

“No, you just act like one.” You want to be offended by his remark, but his teasing grin prevents that. The two of you make your way downstairs to the hotel’s conference hall.

Club music with a thumping bass assaults your ears. The overheads have been turned off in favor of strobing neon lights. Swaths of bodies move about; some hang at the bar, some chat in groups, and some gyrate to the beat in the center of the hall. A woman in her mid-50s drunkenly giggles at something her colleagues say next to you. You know that at least half the population here is composed of university professors and people with PhDs. Crossing your arms over your chest you face the doctor. A brow lifts to your hairline. “Oh, is this what you meant by ‘college kids’? Seems more like you old folks than anything.”

“Old?” he questions you.

“If the shoe fits, Doctor.”

He blinks. “Just how old do you think I am?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, maybe 45.”

He rubs his jaw in thought as he speaks again. “I’m 41.”

The slight pout on his face makes you smirk. “Eh, don’t take it to heart Doc, it was just a guess. Age is but a number. And I think you look great for being in your 40s.” You clear your throat and twist yourself in the opposite direction. Fuck, lets hope he doesn’t think too hard about you saying he looked good… who are you kidding, of course he will. “I’m going to get a drink. You want something?”

“Whiskey, neat, please.”

Forty Five minutes later and you and Dr. Kreizler are still standing along the back wall as other conference-goers party. Sipping on your second vodka cranberry, and he on his second whiskey, you make it a mission to point out who in the room seems the most intoxicated. “Look right there - green sweater, blue slacks. Horrible dancer too.”

“Perhaps you should join him,” he suggests.

“Uh, absolutely not. I don’t dance.” You take a sip before tipping your glass towards the dancefloor. “Believe it or not this isn’t really my scene, never was.”

“You did not go out with friends during your years of undergrad?”

“A few times, but not after sophomore year. Nobody wanted to go out with the girl that ended up in the nuthouse.” You say it so casually, yet you don’t know why you told him that in the first place. The alcohol must be making your tongue loose. Quickly you change the subject back to the illusive professor. “What about you, go to any catillions or the equivalent in Germany? Wear bowties and white gloves?”

He studies you before answering. “No. I spent my time reading and studying. Dancing was frivolous and unnecessary.”

You hum in response. “That’s right, the ‘Good Doctor Kreizler’ and his love affair with the library.” You laugh into your drink, noting that this is the first time you’ve said the moniker aloud without adding ‘dickwad’ at the end.

“Laszlo.”

“What?”

“I suppose by now you should call me by my name, Laszlo. It is certainly less of a mouthful than 'Dr. Kreizler'.”

Now it’s your turn to study him. “Sounds like something you reserve for friends only.” Is that really a line he wanted to cross with you after everything? You know you’ve had some interesting… thoughts and dreams… of him, but you’d known the man for two months and for all intents and purposes you loathed each other. This weekend was an odd exception.

Right?

“I think we have been through enough with each other that it is acceptable. John believes this will help our working relationship.”

You call him out. “So you have talked about me with them,” you tease. For as long as you’ve known the man you have never once seen him look embarrassed. The ruddy blush on his cheeks is cute. But he’s still a dick, you remind yourself. Even so, maybe you will play along with this little game of his. “You sure it won’t sully your reputation around campus if they hear me call you that?”

He tips his head; “I’m sure my reputation can manage.”

Once more you study his expression. “Yeah alright, Laszlo.”

He finds that likes the way his name sounds on your lips.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

[qyllenhaal]

the devil I know

Senator!Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k~

warnings: 18+ only!!! Mentions of infidelity, cheating, unprotected sex, age gap (Chris is at least in his late 40s/early 50s while reader is in her mid to late 20s), power dynamics

A/N: This is a series of some sort but things won’t be particularly linear.

Enjoy!!!

"We can't do this here."

"Yes we can. I fucking run this place," she growled in her ear.

Y/n hates him. She hates his politics and what he stood for in the public eye. But she loved the cock that filled her nearly everyday. She worked for a more progressive representative that had been subjected to Chris' scrutiny despite both being from the same party. They had to work in the same building, which is how they ended up in this situation. He had wanted her since the moment he laid eyes on her. He swore to himself that he'd give everything up just for a taste of her.

He had lied to get her into his office. He just wanted to hear her voice as he visualized her bending over his desk. She spoke to him with disgust, but something in him still craved more. At the most primal level, he wanted to bury his cock inside of her and fill her up with his cum. Never has he had these urges, not even for his wife. He didn't know her name but he had to learn it so he knew what name to call out when he'd get himself off with the simple interactions they had together.

Y/n doesn't know how she got herself trapped in Chris' web but she doesn't see the way out. Nor is she really interested in untangling herself from it. In a perfect world, he wouldn't be married or a politician, and they'd be normal people together. Instead she was in his office while there was a gala downstairs in the ballroom of the capital, slutting herself out for him.

"You know you left your panties in my office, right?" He said as he nuzzled into her, his lips right by her ear. "They sure did help me get off when I was alone."

Y/n giggled and pressed her backside into him.

"Nasty boy. I bet you thought about being deep in this pussy."

"Oh honey, you have no idea," he whispered so desperately. "I'm so fucking hard it hurts."

Chris lifts up her gown to expose her bare ass. He pawed her flesh, making him gasp at her rough touch. Her panties were ripped off of her body with ease. She went to protest but then he stuffed her mouth with her ruined panties. The taste of her arousal flooded her mouth.

"Can have you making too much noise. Don't need anyone finding us, especially her."

Y/n heard him unzip his pants then she felt the thick head of his cock poking at her ass. She thrusted back against him, wanting him to just stop teasing her and fill her up already. She sighed when she finally felt him pushing into her warmth.

"That pussy is so sweet baby." Chris could never hold back when he was inside of her. For someone usually so straight-laced, he sure had a filthy mouth on him. "So, so sweet," he continued. Y/n was shocked the very first time sure heard him talk like this. She knows he isn't in politician mode 24/7 but it didn't stop her from being flustered by every filthy word he spews at her.

His cock began to push into her all the way. She clawed at the wooden wall of his office as she stood there and took it.

When he was fully sheathed inside of her, the entire world felt still. It was just the two of them and the only thing he could hear was her moans and his own heartbeat speeding up. He was in love with her, but he painfully couldn't do anything about it. His affections did show in how he pushed in and out of her, at least he hoped that it did. He needed to get her out of here; this state, this country, and to some tropical beach where he could fuck her for fours without worry. His Y/n deserves more than being taken in his office.

Y/n reached  back and she squeezed his clothed thigh. His eyes met hers and he became weak. They were deep and pleading. He rested his hand on her face, his pace going quicker than his heartbeat.

Her pussy squelched loudly as he fucked into her. She was whining so loudly behind the panties in her mouth.

"My sweet baby...I love being inside of you. I'm going to give you everything you want."

It was the lust and his true feelings that spoke for him. He was at home inside of her. Y/n wished she could return the feeling with her words, but all she could do was push back harder against him to show that she so badly wants him.

"You wanna cum darling?" Her head nodded as he brought his hand up to her breast to squeeze through her dress. "You know you're so pretty when you cum. I love to watch your beautiful face as you cum."

Her pussy clenched harder around him, making his hips suttered. But he quickly straightened himself out and continued to consistently fuck her.

"That's it girl. Cum for me."

His voice was so commanding that she needed to obey. Her pussy milked him as she came around him, covering him in her slick.

"Fuck, you're going to make me cum Button."

Her heart swooned every time he called her that. It was born from her penchant of wearing buttons of various causes every day. At first he called her that jokingly then it turned into a term of endearment. He only called her that when they were alone.

"I'm going to cum deep in your pussy." He placed a hand on her lower belly. "You're going to feel it right here...deep inside of you."

She went feral, swearing to herself that she could cum again at that promise. Her walls constricting around him one last time is what sent him over, He grunted in her ear as his warmth filled her pussy. She moaned at the warm gush that she felt inside of her.

Chris stayed inside of her, never wanting to pull out of her perfect pussy. His breathing steadied and he brought his hand up to her mouth to pull her panties out of her own mouth. She took a deep breath of air. Chris stuffed her panties in her back pocket to add to his growing collection.

He was still inside of her when he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're going to make an old man fall over and die," he joked. His laugh vibrated against her back and an unexplainable happiness surged within her.

"I want my panties back Chris."

"Not happening." he kissed her cheek to punctuate his sentence.

Chris had to pull out eventually even if he didn't want to. She could feel his cum seeping out of her before she felt him cleaning her up with a tissue.

"You look so sexy with my cum dripping out of you." While he was down there he kissed her inner thigh.

Y/n could never admit during daylight that she felt something for this man. When they were alone, he always made her feel good and he was sweet to her. He was somehow able to give her moral fog, with the politics and the fact that he had a wife. But when he said, "you're my girl," his words were pure and innocent.

"We can't keep doing this."

"You say that every time Button, yet here you are."

Y/n sighed weakling, finding herself in his embrace again.

"I love you."

She was stupid to say it, but she didn't care. He didn't say anything back, he never does.

"We should go back to the party," he suggested. He freed Y/n from his embrace and she straightened herself out as he watched.

She quietly made her way to the door before he called out to her.

"You know how much I care for you Button."

"I know Chris."

[feelyourhearttakingroot]

The Reader's Guide to Avoiding Redfly (and how to have a good time doing it)

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.” 

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go. 

Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm...

Relationships: Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: First chapter is Mature, but it will be getting Explicit after that... 

Author’s note: I saw Triple Frontier last week for the first time and it has occupied my every waking thought since then. This is my first ‘x reader’ fic, so feedback is appreciated. Benny is my darling boy and I want to write him a loving af relationship even if it’s in the bg of this fic. I also don’t mean to step on toes but Redfly is the worst man and deserved to die a lot earlier than he did in the film. I am also obviously obsessed with Frankie Morales. Sorry if the formatting is fucked, this is the first fic I’ve posted directly to Tumblr in many’a.

Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, future smut but this chapter is just teasing.

Read on AO3.

Chapter One

The Fight

“The fight ends at 9pm, so we’ll be good to get to the bar by 9.30,” Dina said, leaning to within a hair's breadth of the bathroom mirror. Your arms twitched, hands opening and closing as you watched the safety pin come even closer to her eyeball.

“Dina, do you have to- the fight?”

“Yes, I need to separate my eyelashes, and yes, the fight.” She said, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Benny is fighting and he’s going to come with us to the bar afterwards.”

Your heart sank, just a little. Benny was a great guy, and you were happy for Dina, but it was always harder to get into bars when Benny ‘Brick Shithouse’ Miller rocked up with facial wounds and an ego after inevitably winning the fight. 

Apparently their post-fight sex was insane.

“So it’s you, me, and Benny?” you asked flatly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made your hands clench into fists, with a vivid mental image of the pin sinking into her eyeball. She ignored you, of course, and started on the bottom lid.

“No, you prick,” she said, teasing each lash apart. She paused, and winked at you through the mirror “Ha. Prick! Get it? Sandy, Amy and Kelly are joining us - and Benny is bringing his friends.”

“William and Tom?” You were trying so hard not to be a downer, you really were, but you’d met William and Tom before and it was not a great experience. William - Benny’s brother - was aesthetically pleasing, and a lovely guy, but way too earnest about the purity of combat, while Tom was… a douche. A douche who clearly enjoyed his nights away from the wife a little too much. “Great.”

“Not just Will and Tom,” she chided, finally putting down the pin and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection. “A few of his old squad guys are coming too.”

“OK then,” you said, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Dina called.

“To get another drink.”

Based on the MMA prelude, you decided to rethink your outfit to something a bit less… showy, and had poured yourself into a skintight skirt with a shirt that helped accentuate your decolletage just right. So right, in fact, that you’d forgone a sensible coat in favour of a leather jacket that didn’t even close properly. The clothes did little to shield you from the cold, which explained why you had chugged nearly half a bottle of Smirnoff in the cab over. 

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

Dina looked every inch the fighter’s girlfriend, she really did. You didn’t even know she owned a faux-fur coat. Her meticulously-separated eyelashes were currently fluttered together, shielding her eyes from her cigarette smoke. 

Not that it helped. Your buzz was fading fast with every second you stood out in the freezing cold parking lot.

Sandy hadn’t bothered to change her outfit - “Fuck it, it can’t be any dirtier than the bar.” - and was leaning against the arena wall wearing a mini dress that practically showed what she had eaten for breakfast. The woman had legs up to her neck, and more than one man had slowed his passage into the arena to get a good look. Sandy, with legs that long since she was fifteen, and a face that had been beautiful her whole life, flipped each one off with a casual laziness you could never hope to emulate. 

The three of you were standing outside the arena waiting for Tom and the others to arrive. The crowd was known to get rowdy, and Benny had been very firm with Dina about going in with his friends. William was already inside with Benny, prepping him for the fight.

It was so cold you were nearly tempted to ask Dina for a pull of her cigarette, just to feel some warm air, when -

“Dee!”

Your face locked into a grimace, and you looked down to kick a loose pebble from under your shoe, trying to regain control of your facial muscles by the time Tom got close.

“Tommy!” Dina yelled. “You’re late, what the hell?”

“Don’t blame me,” Tom said, “Blame these assholes.”

Two sets of denim-wrapped legs stepped into your view, and you huffed out a little sigh before looking up. Tom was standing in front of you, with his friend on his right. 

His friend. Who was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He smiled at you, and you felt a small laugh escape you. 

What was that face? He looked like a Latino George Clooney. How did he get taken seriously in life?

“Hey, tiger,” Tom said to you, his lopsided smile showing a little too much teeth on one side.

“Hey… Tom.” you replied, raising a hand in greeting. He made a little ‘pfft’ sound and pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in the smell of… dear god, was that Axe? 

You heard the crunch of gravel, and a movement out of the corner of your eye told you that the devilishly handsome man was currently introducing himself to Sandy. 

Probably wouldn’t have worked out with us anyway.

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.” 

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go. 

“This is my girl right here, Frankie.” Tom said, and the proprietary tone in his voice made your stomach turn. You should have just met them at the bar.

“Crazy, I thought your girl was sitting at home looking after your daughter and -” the second half of the sentence was in mumbled Spanish, and you heard a bark of laughter from the handsome man. A quick, rough pat on the back and Tom released you, already walking into the building as if nothing had happened.

The speaker was standing in front of you; a tall-ish man wearing a blue plaid shirt over a grey tank top, with a beat-up baseball cap on his head. Just as the phrase ‘hillbilly trucker’ crossed your mind, every thought in your head promptly vanished on looking up into his face. A pair of warm brown eyes were gazing down at you, creasing gently at the corners. He wasn’t built like Tom or William; they slanted more towards beefcake, where this guy was toned and slim. He was older than you - not a surprise, William and Tom were in at least their mid-40s - but it was a very manageable older. Unruly, curling brown hair peeked out from under his cap, and the man smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on his cheek.

The other guy was crazy good-looking in a movie-star way, the sort of hot that had made you laugh because it was almost unreal. This guy was the perfect side of handsome, mortal enough to take your breath away just a little and not make you feel stupid about it.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Frankie.”

Maybe it was the dimples, maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from a fate worse than death, or maybe the cold had finally gotten to your brain. Whatever it was, you barely knew what you were saying until you’d said it:

“And I am so fucking yours.”

So much for not feeling stupid. His smile widened, and your heartbeat quickened just a bit.

“Ignore Redfly,” he said. “He just doesn’t have good manners.”

Another burst of Spanish from behind you, from the dark-eyed Adonis near the door, and Frankie replied in kind, with an evocative hand gesture that you were pretty sure meant ‘fuck off’.

You finally turned to get a good look at the other man. He was standing in front of your friends, angled towards Sandy in a way that boded well for her. He was terribly good-looking.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” he leaned toward you, and took your hand in his. “Santiago Garcia.”

The man was on another level. You felt like you were meeting a politician. You told him your name as if in a dream. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, looking into your soul, and you felt that laugh bubble up again. This was too much all at once.

Dina blew out one last plume of smoke, and threw her cigarette butt on the ground.

“Come on guys, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

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

The arena was chaos. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but he could have been standing two feet from you and you wouldn’t have seen him. He could have been behind you.

As the thought crossed your mind, a hand came to rest on your hip and you jumped sideways, ready to kick Tom in the fucki-

It was Frankie, hands suddenly up and visible, mouth framing a ‘whoa’ that you could never hear over the din of the crowd. You grimaced, mouthing sorry.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He craned his neck to look over the crowd, toward the ring, and you stepped quickly toward him. Your hand raised, like you had the right answer in a classroom, and you tilted your mouth up towards Frankie’s ear. He scrunched his face and bent his head towards yours.

“Sorry,” you said into his ear, trying not to deafen him at this range. He smelled warm, and clean, a welcome respite from the arena’s smell of old beer and sweat. “I thought it might be…” one of your best friends, whom I loathe. “... a creep.” you finished lamely.

When you pulled away, he was looking at you so intently that a blush started to creep up your neck. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he processed what you said. His tongue worked in his mouth, pushing out his cheek, before he winked ever so slightly, and nodded.

He knew. He damn well knew.

Frankie grinned and pointed towards the ring, to where your friends had disappeared, before nudging you forward.

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

Dina and the others were sitting ringside, by Benny’s corner. Dina had shrugged her coat in the sticky closeness of the arena, and was adjusting her top for maximum cleavage. Beside her was Sandy, deep in conversation with Santiago, and Tom sat beside Santiago next to an empty chair.

The single empty chair. 

Fucks sake.

Tom saw you both coming, and had a look of fake disappointment on his face that your hands twitched to slap off. He held his hands up in defeat, before patting his thigh. A quick scan showed that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the arena; the place was jammed so tightly that you counted at least seven people on laps in this section alone. A fire hazard, and a pain in the ass. 

You’re fucking kidding me.

You went to take a step, and felt a hand grip your arm. Frankie was sliding past you on your right, pivoting to sit in the empty chair. A shit-eating grin slid onto Tom’s face, and he patted his thigh again.

You’re fucking kidding me. 

Frankie still held your arm loosely in his left hand. Reaching over Tom, he nudged Santiago, who broke off from his conversation long enough to pass him a beer. Settling back into his seat, Frankie spread his legs a little too wide and steered you into the space between them. 

He looked up at you under the brim of his cap, his face out of Tom’s eyeline. The corners of his mouth curved downward and one shoulder shrugged, as if to say ‘Why not?’.

Lightheaded, floating on a mental chant of fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell, you perched on Frankie’s knee, your knees pressing against his other leg. A quick glance at Tom’s face nearly made you yelp. The ham-coloured man was staring sullenly out over the ring, lips pursed around his mouthful of beer. The smile was nowhere to be seen.

Frankie shifted slightly, and with one hand on your waist pulled you closer until you were sitting mid-thigh. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to settle against your lower back, keeping you upright. The shape of the seat had his body angled away from you, allowing you to sit upright without being nestled against him. He leaned towards Tom and said something in his ear, something you could barely hear over the din. It was as if he’d forgotten you were there.

But not quite. Slowly, as if you were a wild animal he was trying to tame, his hand started to move in gradual, broad strokes, forward and back, forward and back.

Your stomach muscles locking tight was your only visible reaction, and you thanked baby Jesus and all the angels in heaven that Frankie couldn’t feel the way your pulse had suddenly picked up. Though that might not be far off; there was a warm throbbing between your legs that definitely hadn’t been there two minutes ago.

Forward and back. Forward and back.

This was totally normal. This happened to you every day. Every day you met hot guys and sat on their laps. Every day you got mildly turned on by hot guys stroking your back.

Looking over at Dina, the two of you locked eyes. Her grin was positively wolfish.

Fuck off, you mouthed.

You looked around, hoping that the people-watching fodder available would help take your mind off the hot man you were sitting on and what his hand was - 

As if Frankie could hear your thoughts, the rhythm of his strokes changed. Now, instead of moving forward and back, his palm started sliding up and down, with every pass downward bringing his hand closer and closer to the curve of your ass.

For a fraction of a second, your breath caught in your throat, and the pulse between your legs kicked up a notch. Trying to keep your cool, you casually - so casually! - looked over at Frankie.

Still absorbed in conversation with Tom. Fine. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea of the effect he was having.

Your awareness was steadily narrowing down to where his hand touched you, to the vague sensation of warmth that each pass left on your skin. Reaching the hem of your jacket, he paused almost imperceptibly, before reaching under the leather to rest on the back of your shirt.

Dear god, were you disappointed he wasn’t touching your ass? Were you actually sad that this stranger wasn’t - 

A radiating sensation on your back, so warm and firm, and suddenly you could feel every little movement his hand made, the way his fingers were flexing against your skin so gently - 

Air you didn’t realise you had been holding escaped your lungs in a whoosh. 

“Getting bored up there, tiger?” Tom’s expression wasn’t as friendly as it normally was, and you were reminded why all of this was happening. This was purely for Tom’s benefit. 

“No, it’s fine. It’s…” you looked down at Frankie as he took a sip of his beer. His eyes met yours over the rim of his beer cup, and a smile crept across your face. When the cup left his lips, you took it deftly from his fingers and lifted it to your mouth. Your gaze didn’t leave his. Tom may as well have been part of the furniture.

The beer was not good, but you finished it, and ran your tongue over your lips. Frankie’s eyes tracked the movement, and you felt his hand pause, felt his fingers splay wide across the small of your back.

“It’s great,” you said, winking down at him. “But I think we need another drink.”

You placed a hand on his knee for leverage, and stood. Dina saluted you with her nearly-empty drink, and tapped at the low liquid level with one long fingernail. You nodded, and flashed the OK sign.

A broad chest blocked your view, and the smell of Axe surrounded you. You glanced up at Tom, who was shaking his own empty cup. 

“I’ll come too,” he said. “I could do with another-”

“It’s cool, man,” Frankie stood, easily slotting himself between the two of you, and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders as he turned to the exit. “I got it.”

Empty cups and debris were strewn across the aisle, and you were beginning to regret wearing your heels for what was shaping up to be a fucking obstacle course. But you felt Frankie’s presence behind you, and if you put a little more sway into your walk than normal, so what?

Between a few stragglers at the bar, there was a gap just wide enough for the two of you to lean against the counter. You rested on your forearms, and flagged down the bartender.

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

“Two beers, and a whiskey and coke.” 

“Make it four,” Frankie said. “I know it may not seem like it, but it is better to get Redfly liquored up. After about,” - his hand made a see-saw motion - “six drinks? He’s going to get real maudlin, start missing his wife, and go home.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, “He’s really missing his wife when he’s trying to put his hand up my skirt.”

His eyes flickered up and down your body, and he cleared his throat. One hand came up to scratch at his moustache, before smoothing it back down. 

“You know, I don’t blame him,” he said. “That skirt looks great on you.”

A low warmth pooled in your stomach, and you smiled. He smiled back, those beautiful eyes twinkling as he turned around to face the arena, elbows back on the bar.

“If I… go too far, in there,” he said, face suddenly serious. “You can just punch me in the face. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

The bartender laid your whiskey and coke down in front of you, and pulled out two cups for the beer. 

“Two more of those, please,” you told her, and took a sip of your drink. You knew you were a bit of a savage for drinking whiskey with coke, but your sweet tooth demanded nothing less. “Frankie, I’m not really OK with the idea of ‘being saved’.”

“That’s fair,” Frankie turned to the bar, and rapped a quick tattoo on the wood. “When we get back in there, you take the seat and I’ll -”

“But,” you raised a finger. “Your lap is pretty comfortable. And if you’re OK with having my ass on your knee all night, then I’m happy to stay there.”

A laugh escaped him, and you found yourself appreciating the way his moustache framed his lips so perfectly. 

“I think you’d be hard pushed to find a man who wouldn’t be OK with that deal.”

The bartender laid down four cups of beer. “$25.60.” 

Frankie laid out three $10 bills, and pulled the cups closer. 

“Do you think you could make sure Tom doesn’t put his hand up my skirt?”

He was intent on arranging the cups in a way he could carry them, to the point that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Just as you were about to repeat yourself, he flashed you a wicked look.

“Well sweetheart,” he smiled, “I’ll just have to get my hand there first.”

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

As soon as you sat back down, it was like a switch had flipped. Your conversation at the bar had been light, to the point where you’d nearly forgotten that you’d actually been turned on a little at sitting on Frankie’s lap.

When you got back to your seats, and Frankie had handed off the beers he was carrying, he sat and pulled you down onto his lap in one fluid movement. No more tentative movements; he held your waist firmly, and pulled you even closer than before. And now, not only was his hand stroking your back again - he had put it under your jacket straight away - but his other arm was now resting on your leg. His beer cup sat on your knee, below where the hem of your skirt rode up, and he rotated it gently on your bare skin, almost teasing you with the cool feeling of the condensation on the base.

It drove you just a little short of wild. Though part of you wanted to shift against his thigh, wanted to feel some pressure right where an ache was steadily building between your legs, you kept it together fairly admirably. 

A wet patch on Frankies jeans probably wouldn't go down too well anyway.

A murmur from the crowd rolled towards the ring, and Pantera’s heavy guitar riff blasted through the speakers.

Benny was here.

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

Ringside seats were… certainly something.

The smell of blood hummed in your nostrils, and you felt the impact of every punch. 

Benny was a monster. He had swaggered into the arena, head and shoulders above everyone, and proceeded to hammer the shit out of his opponent once the bell rang. Watching the way Dina was looking at him, you were very, very glad they were going back to Benny’s place tonight.

The six of you were standing at the ring edge, screaming and roaring with the crowd. Your blood was singing. Sitting on Frankie’s lap, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they touched you, had rattled you something fierce, and the adrenaline from the fight was getting to you too. You didn’t think your pulse had slowed for about ten minutes, and you were breathing like you were climbing a mountain.

It was the last minute of the last round, and Benny was flagging. 

You guessed. You really had no idea who was doing better, both fighters were covered in blood and looked tired as fuck.

Santiago, Dina and Tom were rattling the cage, howling through the wire at Benny. The man was intent on his opponent, never taking his eyes off him. 

As you watched, Benny did an odd movement, stepping back, rotating his shoulders and head as his feet danced. You heard roars come from your friends, but were completely lost. 

“He’s about to kick the guy’s head off his fucking shoulders,” Frankie’s voice was low, and close. You felt his nose brush the outer shell of his ear, and you suppressed a shiver as his breath ghosted over you. He was standing behind you, so close that you felt his warmth up your body from ankle to neck. He reached over your shoulder, and pointed up at Benny’s right foot.

“You see that?” 

Benny’s foot was moving in a fan shape on the floor of the ring. He dodged as much as he needed to to evade blows, but whenever he was still his foot moved in that fan shape. 

“Why is he waiting?” Turning your head, your nose brushed against Frankie’s jawline. He smiled down at you.

“Not long now, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch.”

He stepped closer until he stood flush against your back, and crossed his arms over your chest to grip his own elbows. His beard brushed against your cheekbone, and you found yourself nestling further into his hold. He was just so warm and solid and - 

Benny moved like lightning. His opponent came too close, ever so slightly unguarded, and Benny pivoted on his left foot and -

“Fuck!” you screamed. Benny’s opponent hit the floor, and the arena erupted.

===> Chapter Two

[descendantofthesparrow]

the D3 outfits and designs look like they belong on 30 year olds, not 17-20 year olds

this was said by @darkprinceofdarkness​ on the descendants discord but i wanted to bring it up here, rn I'm redesigning almost ALL the descendants d3 outfits, including making some brand new ones for new characters for my rewrite, and in looking at the D3 outfits, i remembered what darkpinceofdarkness had said last month (aka ash so imma just call em ash now so i dont have keep typing their tumblr name)  they had said that the designs seemed to fit better on the actors, and not the characters, as in that the designs seemed they were made for 25-30 year olds (the age that most of the actors were at at the time) instead of 17-20 year olds that the characters were aged at.

 i mean look at Mals outfit for the talk with beast, belle, and FG, it doesn't seem right for her,

 its too simple, to plain, there's nothing going on, it looks like she's a wine mom, she looks like she's dressing up as an old ass boring adult when she's just gotten out of her teens 3/10 burn it

and again when hades comes to wake up Audrey 

boring colors, boring texture, boring hair, boring shoes, again, nothing interesting going on, i feel like im looking at a (again) 30 year old wine mom instead of a young adult that just graduated from HIGH SCHOOL 3/10 would gag

now there's her engagement/getting the vks dress

while its one of her best outfits of D3 it still feels....old to me, like, i feel like yes this is still young adult, but not 19 years old young adult, more 23-26 young adult. i think it might be the neckline and form of the dress, the coloring and the textures are nice and i think they do fit well with Mal, but overall, it still feels like something someone over 22 would wear, not a 19 year old. i understand Mal is stepping into the role of a lady/queen, but shes 19, not 30, give her fun clothes! give her ripped denim, give her spray painted leather, give her pins, let her chop her hair short, leggings under shorts! loose tops, t-shirts, spiked chokers, jeans, sneakers, hoodies, just ANYTHING other than loose-form fitting 40 year old woman who doesn't know how to style herself and listens a YouTube video about how to color match your clothes-clothes!!! anyway 6/10 its okay but would def NOT wear

before we continue i would like to say Kara Saun is a great designer...but she wasn't the greatest fit to design for a series about teenagers. anyway onto good to be bad!

now good to be bad, is probably my favorite Mal design out of all of D3, it looks like Mal took a paint brush and her spray paint and just went ham on it, which is perfect, because that suits her (original) character! its all over the place, yet it seems planned, its a mess of colors yet it seems as if they were meticulously  picked! Mals original character was someone while they seemed they had no plan, they had millions of them floating through their head, or they seemed to have a plan but they were just mentally going “fuck it what happens happens” and that unfortunately seemed to be drained from her as the movies went on and someone fucked up by trying to make her a perfect character, which made her completely horrible, in the first movie, her not thinking things all the way through (Ben and the love spell and how that would end) was more endearing than completely annoying and frustrating, D1 Mal, when she didn't think things through, ended up floundering over herself but trying to come up with a quick solution (when the quilt trip FG with Jane plan failed, Mal groaned for a moment then immediately went to her spell book for another plan) yet D2 and D3 Mal, if her plan didn't go her way she got upset, and blamed her fault on other people, even if why her plan failed was completely her fault (the barrier closing thing; she tried to push the blame onto just wanting to protect her cushy life, where if she was written correctly, she would have taken blame and acknowledged that she had doomed the rest of the isle kids and actually apologized for lying to Uma and her friends, instead of saying “she had no choice” (yes you did bish you just didn't want to do any actual work) anyway enough of analyzing Mals horribly written character back to the outfits, so ill sum up Mal’s gttb look, its funky, its fun, its colorful, her jacket is not tight fitting and has a fun tail, popped open collar, its just overall a cute outfit. 8/10 wouldn't wear but it looks like something a punk alt young adult would wear.

so her outfit for Janes party....okay yea i like this one

its splotchy, its denim, its loose yet form fitting, hell i would wear it (minus the shoes)  it feels like something a 15-19 year old feminine presenting person would wear to a party! which guess what! she is! shes going to a party! the only thing i would change is to possibly give her shorts or calf ending cargo pants, and change her open toed heels to wedged sneakers. other wise 8.5/10 would wear.

her motorcross gear.

i...dont like it, its super tight fitting, her butt in every single shot that usually just has Mal in it with her facing towards the camera is reaaaally obvious and its just...iahsiodhasid bad, is bad. her boots are clunky as fuck and hardly practical at all and for what she was planning to do with them makes no sense and girl get the fuck over your height complex.(clunky boots are cute but...girl...come on...) and it seems like its suited for a person in their mid twentys instead of a 19 year old. its hard for me to say exactly why i dont like it (also i will say, if you like tight fitting clothes, fucking go for it, you rock that shit, it just...doesn't look good on Mal and its a fukin kids series, and  the camera loved Mals butt and i was always like “yo camera man, pan up a bit why dont cha”)but i feel like if Mals pants weren't all a shiny tight fabric, i might like them a bit more but its all one thing and all one shade with different tones. like, comon, pockets guys, they are a thing, and put them on her butt so it derives from it when its in the shots.

i hate hate hate the hades color shift, because at least with the green/purple it had two shades and broke up the outfit but now...

its just blue and purple...there's like...nothing breaking up the tones or pieces of the outfit and now its all just tones of blue and purple that you cant tell apart and you have no clue where it begins or it ends and its ugly. 5/10 its better than her “fancy” talk shit but still burn it and keep it away from me. 

and now the dreaded outfit...her engagement party dress.

*shivers* its just...so bad, everything is just so tight and stiff that it just doesn't...feel like a real dress, it looks like it belongs on a doll, i don't even think a 30 year old wine mom would wear this its just so bad. Even the long version of the open skirt (which is impossible to find on google) doesn't flow like it should, its stiff and keeps its form the entire time, and when you want a long flowing engagement party dress made for a princess? that's not a good thing, whatever fabric they used was not a good one and they should never use it again...the texture on the dress is awful too. i think the only thing i like about this abomination is her tiara...that's it, that's all i like, and only because its so much better then that foam garbage that was her dragon dress crown. 0/10 fucking erase it from existence.

i was going to do Evies outfits but i feel like i took too much space up on Mal...i have alot to say on this abomination of an Evie “outfit”

what is this WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! EVIE YOU ARE 19 NOT A FUCKING 40 YEAR OLD REALTOR?!

so i might do a whole post just for Evies “outfits” 

[itspufflehuff]

Adventureland- Steve Rogers Imagine

Summary: You and Steve are the only single people left in the Avengers Tower. Instead of sitting around your rooms all day Steve takes you around Brooklyn as a tour guide to his old spots from the 1940′s.

MATERLIST // TAGLIST

Word Count: 2,573

~~~~

Valentines Day at the Avengers tower was a very quiet day, at least for you and Steve. Everyone had their own dates and plans for the day. Tony, of course, is vacationing somewhere romantic with Pepper. Clint was spending the day with his wife and family. Thor was out trying to woo Jane. And most surprising of all, Natasha and Bruce were having a lovely dinner together.

It was just you and Steve left in the tower to fight boredom and loneliness on this miserable holiday.

You were in your room laying on your bed with your head hanging over the side when you saw an upside-down Steve standing in front of you with his arms crossed, "What are you doing?" He chuckled.

"Absolutely nothing and it's killing me!" You let out dramatically.

Steve laughed and sat on the floor in front of you, "Can I do nothing with you?"

"Yes! Please!"

For a good thirty minutes, you and Steve sat on the floor of your bedroom playing hand games. You started with patty cake, then rock paper scissors, thumb war, you tried to teach him slide for a while but he wasn't getting it so you moved on to hot hands, oh man was that a bad idea. It was fine at first when you were the one trying to smack his hand but the second he went to hit yours he forgot about how strong he was and hit you a little too hard, "OW! I don't like this game anymore." You whined pulling your hands away from him.

Instantly feeling bad he held your hands and softly rubbed them with his thumb, "I'm so sorry Y/N!"

The both of you sat there for a while not even noticing your hands were still in his. "Why don't we go out and do something? Instead of staying here being bored out of our minds?" Steve suggested.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, explore the city?"

You thought for a second before you perked up with an idea, "Why don't you take me around Brooklyn and show me the places you used to go to? Most of it is still there."

He smiled, "I like that idea. Let's go." He stood up first finally letting your hands go, but not for long as he held one hand out to help you up from the floor. "I'm just going to put my shoes on then grab my bag so we can go." You said as he made his way out of your room.

When you were ready to go you met him by the front door. He had two helmets in his hand along with his keys, "Ready to go?" You looked at him smiling as you nodded your head, "Ready."

~~~~

You held onto him in the back of his motorcycle as he drove you over to Brooklyn. The first stop he made was in front of an old apartment building. Steve parked his motorcycle and begin taking his helmet off as you hopped off.

"Where are we?" You asked.

"Y/N, welcome to the birthplace of Steve Rogers." He said looking at the building with his hands on his hips.

"Birthplace? You mean the place you grew up in?"

"Oh no, I mean birthplace," He looked at you amused, "my mom didn't realize she was in labor until it was too late. She gave birth in front of her bedroom door."

"Wow you're mom must've been really tough to not know she was in labor."

"Yeah, she really was."

"I guess you got it from her Mr. I could do this all day." You mimicked his catchphrase causing him to laugh.

He walked you around his old neighborhood showing you his school, favorite dinners (or at least where they used to be), and the theater he would go to most often alone but on the rare occasion with Bucky on a double date.

"I forget you weren't always like this, a stud women chased after all the time." You joked.

"Well, I wasn't the best looking back then. Bucky- Well he was always the one getting women. He tried to help set me up with some but in the end, they were never interested."

"Well, they missed out on an amazing man." You looked up at him as the both of you stood in front of the abandoned theater.

His head hung down as he chuckled, "You mean the stud I am now?"

You smiled, "No. You don't need to be a stud to be an amazing man. Any woman would have been lucky to have you then or now. They were just too focused on looks to see that."

He wasn't quite sure what to say. You were such an amazing girl and no doubt attractive. He had always been so focused on Peggy that he didn't realize there was a girl for him in this time.

You both looked into each other's eyes smiling. For a quick second, he looked down at your lips then back up to your eyes. He didn't think you would notice but you did. Clearing your throat you looked back at the theater, "So Mr. Rogers if you were in the 40s right now where would you take a lady out on Valentine's day?"

"Well back then they used to have a fair on Valentine's day. They'd have rides, food stands, a fortune teller, and a photo booth. I went once on a double date with Bucky but my date left me halfway through, it was not fun." He let out a small laugh at the end.

"Let's do it." You said making your way back to the apartment complex where he left his motorcycle.

"What?" He caught up to you quickly.

"Let's give you the Valentine's Day fair you deserved."

"How?"

"There's a small amusement park not too far from here. They have rides and no doubt food stands. I'm sure they'll have a photo booth set up somewhere."

~~~~

"Welcome to Adventureland. Today tickets are half off for couples." The man at the booth greeted you both with a smile.

You grabbed Steve's hand happily, "Well it's a good thing we're a couple right Stevie?"

"Of course, darling." He said in an unconvincing tone wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

The man eyed you two for a second. Whether or not he

believed you, you weren't sure. He said nothing and gave you the price for the tickets. Before you can even reach for your wallet Steve grabbed his and paid the man. He handed you each a wristband that would give you access to the park.

Excited, you grabbed Steve's hand and ran into the park. He followed behind you laughing.

Gosh she's so darn adorable.

The amusement park wasn't as busy as you expected it to be. Most of the guests here were teenagers. Then there was you and a one hundred year old man in a 20/30 year olds body. You didn't care that you two were the oldest people there. You promised Steve you'd give him the Valentine's Day he deserved and you were sticking by your promise.

"So what shall we do first? Carousel, bumper cars, the spiney wanna be teacups- oh! Or the tunnel of love?" You said wiggling your eyebrows.

In that moment both of your stomachs growled.

"How about the restaurants?" Steve laughed.

"That might be a good start." You laughed along.

Neither of you even realized it but you were still holding onto his hand. As you walked to the nearest food place you're hands swung together in a child like way. When you walked into the restaurant there was a small line of people waiting to order. As the both of you stood in line you looked up at the menu together, still hand in hand. It wasn't until it was time to pay you both realized you'd been holding hands this whole time. You were going to reach for your wallet as Steve went for his when you tugged onto each other's hand. Quickly you let go and while your mind lingered on the feel of his hand in yours he took his wallet out first paying for both your meals. He thanked the cashier and took the receipt with the number of your order on it before leading you to an empty table.

"You paid for the tickets, I should've paid for the food." You frowned.

"Well you should've gotten to your wallet faster." He laughed at you and winked.

"That's not fair! I was... distracted."

"On what? My devilishly good looks?" He pretended to flip his hair causing you to laugh.

"Yes let's go with that."

You both ate in silence as you had both not rated since that morning and it was mid-afternoon. It was safe to say you were starving. As you and Steve got to your last bites you asked, "what should we do when we go back out?"

He leaned back into his chair thinking, "well we should start somewhere slow. We did just eat I don't want anyone getting sick out there."

"Right. Right. So... tunnel of love?" You raised an eyebrow as you took a sip of your drink.

He dropped his head laughing then nodded, "yes tunnel of love."

"Yes!!" You had only two bites of your food left so you quickly shoved it in your mouth then threw both your and Steve's trash away. He was barley understanding what was happening when you grabbed his wrist and pulled him along with you towards the door.

You were in line for the tunnel of love within 40 seconds of leaving the diner. Steve couldn't help but laugh, "Why are you so excited for this ride?"

"Umm hello!? Its Valentine's Day. This is THE Tunnel of Love. We would be missing out on a great opportunity if we didn't get on this ride today." You said as a matter of fact.

~~~~

When you exited the ride you both couldn't stop laughing, "That was the lamest ride I've ever been on." You were able to manage saying.

Steve nodded in agreement unable to say anything. You both finally calmed down taking some deep breaths. "Come on let's walk around and see what else we can do here." Steve nodded his head toward the other side of the park you had not explored yet. He put his arm around your shoulder as you two made your way to the other attractions.

"Come right up and test your strength!" You heard coming from the right of Steve. Peeking your head around him you gasped, "Oh my gosh, Steve you have to try that!"

"What? Why?"

"These games are also rigged so that strong men will never make it to the top. But you're not just strong your super human strong! You'll for sure beat the game."

Steve just shrugged her shoulders, "You convinced me." He let go of your shoulders dropping his arm to his side's then walked over to the man at the booth, "I'd like to take a crack at this game." Steve casually said.

The man looked a bit nervous, obviously knowing who Steve was and just how strong he could be. "Are you sure about that sir? There may be some other games you might find more fun than this boring old thing."

Steve just smiled at him overconfident, "This one looks just fine. How much to play?"

"Only $3 my good sir."

Without even looking down at his money he handed the man three dollar bills, then took the mallet getting ready to strike. Almost as if it were nothing Steve hit the button causing the bell to hit all the way to the top. A ding indicated Steve was 'Stronger than Captain America' or at least that's what the board said, but what does it know? It's just a board after all.

You watched him in amusement as he picked the biggest prize they had on display, a narwal stuffed animal the size of Steve's head.

He proudly walked back over to you, "Here you keep it."

"Thank you. What should we name it?" You asked as you both continued walking throughout the park.

This time Steve stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Umm how about Twinkle. It looks like it has stars here on its tail." You turned the animal over proving him right. "Ok Twinkle it is."

As time went on and the food in your stomach settled you both moved onto better rides. The one you were both excited about was the bumper cars. You buckled twinkle up in the seat next to yours as you chased Steve around trying to crash into his car. Somehow in that tiny room you lost him and crashed into some teenagers. Then you felt something crash into your side. Sitting in the cart next to yours was Steve laughing mischievously. You were ready to chase after him when the ride ended.

You two started getting tired when the sun began to set. Instead of leading you to the parking lot Steve rushed you both over to the Ferris wheel insisting it would be the last ride of the night. When you were both strapped in you set Twinkle down between you both. Steve rest his arm around you as your compartment rose into the air. The higher up you went the colder it got. It didn't bother Steve but he could tell it bothered you. He felt your shivering grow the closer you got to the top. He pulled you in closer to him and rubbed your arm with his hand. When you reached the top your breath hitched at how beautiful the view was. You could see the lights of the amusement park being lit up as the sky turned into colors of oranges, pinks, and purples. By the time you reached the bottom the sun had completely set and the park was illuminated with street lights.

Steve hopped off first holding his hand out to help you. When you stepped down Steve didn't let your hand go, instead he interlocked your fingers together.

On your way back you spotted a small photo booth tucked away in one of the parks corners. Excited you started to tug in Steve's had with a wide smile, "Let's go this way!" You didn’t wait for his response when you turned directions toward the photo booth. He almost tripped over his own feet at the sudden change. Then without saying a word you pulled him into the booth with you. Taking advantage of his confusion you took your money out to pay for the photos. “Smile!” You said excitedly as the first of three pictures were taken. The photo booth was a bit old and didn’t have a screen to show you what the photos looked like right after they were taken.

You and Steve exited the booth excited to see your pictures. The first one you were smiling as Steve looked at you confused. The second photo he had his arm around your shoulder but his hands were making bunny ears as you both smiled. In the last photo you kissed Steve’s cheek. Sadly only one copy was printed, “You keep it. I’m sure we’ll take more in the future.” You said walking away.

He stood there and smiled to himself looking at the picture, “there definitely will be.”

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

Son of A B****

Title: Son of Bitch Square Filled: Omega!Sam Ship (if any): Sam/Dean, Omega!Sam/Alpha!Dean Rating: T Tags: Omega!Sam, ABO, Mpreg, Backgound ABO Summary: Sam goes to see the doctor thinking there might be something wrong or that he’s too stressed, Dean thinks Sam’s just starting omegapause, turns out they’re both wrong Word Count: 2201 Written/Created for @spnaubingo

Son of A Bitch

“I’m sure you’re worried for nothing,” Dean said. “Just stressing yourself out.” 

“But it could be something,” Sam replied. “I’d rather just talk to the doctor and see what’s going on.” 

“Could be omegapause,” Dean mused. 

“…Are you saying I’m old?” Sam asked. “I’m not even 40 yet.” 

“Okay, pre-omegapause,” Dean added. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Saying that isn’t actually making me feel better, Dean. If anything it’s making me think about morality and wills and burial plots.” 

“But you’re not thinking about what could be stressing you out,” Dean pointed out. “You’re welcome.” 

Sam snorted. “The way your mind works will never cease to amaze me.” 

“Sam Winchester?” 

He looked up at the sound of his name and saw a nurse standing in the doorway of the waiting room. 

“I gotta go, I’ll see you at home alright?” Sam added. 

“Everything will be okay Sam. And whatever it is, which is nothing, we will face it together. Like we always do,” Dean told him. 

Sam smiled a bit. “I know…Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Sam hung up as he stood and walked over to the nurse. “Right this way Sam. Since this is your first time seeing Dr. Sterns we have to do a couple routine tests for your file and then she’ll come in when we’re finished alright?” 

He nodded and went through the tests. He made a mental note to see about getting Dean to the doctor at some point. They were both pretty healthy, but it never hurt to have a doctor sign off on it. 

“Alright, I’ll take these samples to the lab and Dr. Sterns will be in a few minutes,” the nurse told Sam before stepping out. 

He leaned back in one of the chairs and tried not to let on how nervous he felt. He sat up straighter as the door opened and a young woman stepped into the room. 

“Sam Winchester? I’m doctor Sterns,” she smiled and offered her hand. “How are we doing today?” 

“Just trying to remember the last time I was in a doctor’s office,” he chuckled as they shook hands. “Moved around a lot for most of my life, so I’m more used to the whole free clinic, and urgent care types.” 

“Move around a lot for work?” she asked. 

“Something like that,” Sam answered. 

“Well, everything looks good, our labs are not too busy today so we should get those lab results back by the time we’re finished. I see you are a new patient with us, and you had a few concerns that prompted you coming in today. Why don’t we talk about those,” she said. 

“Right, uh it might be nothing, and it could just be me stressing out over nothing, I’ve been having trouble sleepy lately, and I’ve noticed that sometimes I get night sweats. I’ve also been getting headaches a lot more, haven’t been in the mood for sex much lately, my mate told me to mention that one, I’ve had some cramping on and off as well and some weight gain…I went online, and from what I’ve been seeing I guess I might going into pre-omegapause?” he explained. 

“If only all my patients were as thorough as you,” Dr. Sterns chuckled. “Some of the symptoms you describe can coincide with pre-omegapause. I see here you’re going to be thirty six soon, and it isn’t uncommon to start getting symptoms in one’s late thirties. However, what you’ve told me could also indicate pregnancy.” 

“Pregnancy?” Sam blinked surprised. 

That thought hadn’t crossed his mind. 

“You mentioned that you haven’t had your heat in a few months? When was your last heat?” she asked. 

“Mid May,” Sam answered. “And it didn’t last as long as it normally did. Usually it’s a week long this time it is a couple days. Three I think.” 

She nodded and wrote something notes down. “If you don’t mind me asking, why is it your first thought was pre-omegapause and not pregnancy?” 

“Well…if it was going to happen for me, shouldn’t it have happened by now?” Sam asked. “I mean…I’ve been with my mate practically all my life, and we’ve always shared my heat together, when I was younger I used to take birth control, but as I got older I started having bad reactions to it so I stopped, and there are times when we’ve forgotten protection, we just kinda assumed kids were just not in the picture for us.” 

“Have either of you been tested to know for certain?” She asked. 

“We were never in one place long enough to really think about it,” Sam admitted. He ran a hand through his hair. “But…you’re saying there’s a chance I could be pregnant?” 

“There is a chance yes,” she nodded. “The blood sample will give us a more definitive answer.” Her computer chimed and she turned to look at it. “Which, it looks like we’ve got the results.” 

“I haven’t been this nervous since I applied to Stanford,” Sam smiled a bit. 

“Alright, let’s see here. cholesterol looks good, negative for any STDs or infections which is good, and the HCG levels in your blood are on the higher side, you are pregnant Sam,” she smiled at him. 

“Really?” Sam asked. 

She turned the screen so he could see. “Normal HCG levels tend to be around here, but when you’re pregnant they’ll be around here, and get higher the further along in your pregnancy. In some cases, very high HCG levels could indicate twins or even triplets. Given your age, it wouldn’t be impossible for you to have fraternal twins.  Your hormone levels are a bit on the low side which could be playing a part in why you haven’t been feeling any nausea or morning sickness. That could spike the further along you get.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Sam sat back in the chair. “Sorry,” he blushed embarrassed. “I don’t mean to swear it’s just…the fact that I might be pregnant never even crossed my mind and then to find out I am, and that I could have twins…it’s a lot.” 

“Would you like to do an ultrasound?” She asked. “See what they look like? And it’ll tell us how far along you are.” 

“Uh yeah, sure,” Sam nodded. 

He got up and laid down on the exam table and unbuttoned his shirt while she wheeled over the machine. He shivered when the gel made contact with his stomach and watched the screen. 

“And there is your baby,” she turned the screen so he could see better and pointed. “Judging by the size, you’re just about shy two months, which means, you conceived during your last heat, which explains why it was so short. Generally once pregnancy takes, the heat is finished.” 

“Wow…They’re so small,” Sam was in awe. 

“Let me print you off a couple of pictures, and I’ll write down a list of prenatal vitamins for you,” she told him. 

She gave him some tissues to clean off his stomach and he sat up to wait for her. 

An hour had him pulling down the driveway to their house. After almost two years it was still weird to know they had a house to call home. A permanent home. He pulled his car in next to the Impala and grabbed the grocery bag off the seat and locked the doors before making his way to the house. 

“Dean?” He called as he stepped inside. “Hey boy,” he knelt down to receive a few kisses from their dog Zeppelin and Sam’s still not sure how Dean won that one one. “Where’s Dean huh? Where’s he at?” 

Zeppelin barked and ran over to the sliding glass doors that led to the back porch. Sam took the pie he picked up from the grocery store out of the bag and set it in the fridge. He was pleased to see the writing on it hadn’t smeared on the drive home. He hid a few beers and soda’s in front of it. And maybe that should have been the tip off. He can’t remember the last time he had an actual drink, as he’d been drinking soda and water a lot more. 

“Hey,” Sam stepped onto the back porch. 

“Hey,” Dean smiled. “How’d it go?” 

“Good, it was uh, it was good,” Sam answered. 

“See? I told you you had nothing to worry about,” Dean turned his attention back to the grill. “Figured I’d make kabobs for dinner. I even made sure to do a healthy amount of meat and veggies so you won’t complain this time.” 

“I don’t think meat on a stick by itself really counts as a kabob Dean,” Sam pointed out as he walked over. 

Dean wrapped his arm around him as he turned the kabobs over and leaned up to kiss his temple. “Well lucky for me, pretty much the whole world agrees that meat on a stick by itself does count.” 

Sam snorted and reached for a pepper. “I’ll go set the table. We eating inside or outside?” 

“Outside, the weather’s nice,” Dean answered. “Grab me a beer too would you?” 

Sam went back into the house and grabbed the plates from the cabinet and drinks for them. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Dean putting the kabobs on a plate, and tossing a few pieces of chicken to Zeppelin. 

He could already picture Dean standing at the same grill with their little boy or girl. Talking them through the intricacies of perfect grilling. Sneaking extra food to Zeppelin when Sam wasn’t looking. 

“I know you’re there Sam,” Dean said without looking over his shoulder. 

“He’s gonna get fat if you keep sneaking him food like that,” Sam said as he set the plates on the table. 

“He’ll be fine. Ain’t that right Zep?” Dean tossed the dog another piece before he turned off the grill and joined Sam at the table with a plate of kabobs. 

“I’ve never seen so many vegetables on your plate before,” Sam teased. “And such variety.” 

“At least I’m not getting a little paunch unlike someone,” Dean mused as he picked up his beer. 

My paunch is our baby, Sam was tempted to say, it was weird to think it but it made him feel warm inside. He knew deep down Dean had always wanted a family, and Sam had always felt a little disappointed with himself that he hadn’t been able to give that to Dean despite his claims that all he needed was Sam. But now he was pregnant, and as much as he wanted to tell Dean, he didn’t want to ruin the surprise, so instead he just kicked Dean under the table. 

“Ow,” Dean reached down to rub his ankle. “Mean.” 

They finished eating in mostly silence, comfortable silence that came from years of living in each other’s pockets and Sam pushed his plate away once he was done. He covered his mouth as he burped. 

“Excuse me,” he blushed. 

“I will take that as a compliment,” Dean grinned. 

“I picked up some pie on my way home,” Sam told him. “I put it in the fridge.” 

“Is it apple? I hope it’s apple,” Dean said as he stood up. “You want a slice?” 

“I’ll pass,” Sam answered. “But I’ll take a root beer on your way back.” 

“Must be some good news you got at the doctors. You’ve been smelling all good since you got home, and you picked up pie? If it weren’t the anti-possession tattoos I’d think you were possessed by a demon or something…Which reminds…me…” Dean’s voice trailed off. 

“Dean?” Sam leaned back to try and peer into the house. 

He stood up and walked into the house and found Dean in the kitchen. He was standing front of the fridge holding the door open. He was looking down at the pie in the fridge. Sam had asked the bakery clerk to write We’re pregnant on top of the pie in frosting. 

“Turns out it wasn’t pre-omegapause, or omegapause or stress…I’m uh. I’m pregnant Dean,” Sam told him. “We’re gonna have a baby.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said. 

“Yeah…my thoughts too when I found out,” Sam chuckled. 

“But what about…and all those times,” Dean said as he looked at Sam. 

“Stress…it can decrease infertility and the chances of conceiving,” Sam replied. “The last decade and a half has probably been a little stressful what with hunting monsters and trying to keep the world from imploding…you know, just normal everyday stressful things.” 

Dean laughed a little. “Yeah, totally normal stressful things…fuck, Sam this is…” 

“Good?” Sam asked hopefully. 

“More than good Sammy,” Dean answered. He set the pie down on the counter and walked over to Sam. His fingers brushed their bond mark as he pulled him down into a kiss and Sam melted into it. 

“This is amazing,” Dean said as he pulled away. “You’re gonna get so fat.”

Sam snorted and shoved his mate. “Screw you.” 

Dean just grinned at him. “I mean consider screwing is what led us here…” 

“Oh my god, just eat your pie,” Sam laughed.

[absinthemadness]

Short fic prompt; Akuroku #9 or #40

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

#40 exes meeting again after not speaking for years au

CW: Physical abuse (mentioned, from a third party)

More under the cut for length

---

"You deserve better."

"There's no one better! And even if there was, I want you!" Roxas's voice rang out, even above the waves, out over the sand. "Why are you doing this to me, Axel!?"

---

Axel jerked awake with a sharp gasp, one sleepy hand coming up to wipe away the tears leaking out.

"Ax?" the figure next to him stirred, reaching out a hand to rub at his shoulder.

"Nightmare," he grumbled. He wasn't about to tell his boyfriend he'd been dreaming about his ex.

"Gonna be ok?"

"Yeah, go back to sleep," Axel soothed, reaching over to run a hand through his boyfriend's hair. "Night."

"Night, Ax." And the man rolled away, snuggling under the covers. His soft breathing resumed minutes later and Axel turned away. And he wondered

When had they stopped saying 'I love you?'

And why in the world was he dreaming about Roxas again. It had been… what? Six or seven years and one cross country move when he couldn't take the memories... the guilt anymore. But when he picked up his phone, knowing full well he wasn't getting any more sleep that night, there it was.

Roxas's face. His profile on some random social media thing. Older now, mid-twenties. And looking almost… world-weary, serious. In Axel's inbox sat an inconspicuous 'hey, how have you been?' that had popped up shortly after he'd accepted Roxas's friend request. And he'd closed it in fear, terrified of confronting his demons, laid out for all to see, in the light of day.

But now, in the creeping stillness of the night, with nothing but the faint echoes of the city, he started scrolling through Roxas's status updates. There were concerts, museums, the usual boring stuff. Sitting next to the button for pictures was one for life events and in curiosity he poked it, wondering if Roxas was one of those that used the feature. And to his surprise, he started to swipe through events.

Moved. Moved again, never leaving their small hometown. In a relationship.

Of course, Axel sighed, a person like Roxas wouldn't stay single forever.

Split up. In a relationship.

Engaged.

The breath rushed out of Axel. A wave of heat followed by a dousing of ice left him gasping for breath, surprised he didn't wake his boyfriend back up.

But there was more. He held his breath and flicked his thumb, expecting the next one to be married.

It was.

His heart gave an almost violent squeeze. What was the next one? Adopted a child? Bought a house in the suburbs? He had to know. He scrolled.

Divorced.

He blinked. Divorced? Within the year. What the hell had happened?

Pictures told much of the same story. Up until the divorce. And there was one of Roxas, the faintest hint of a smile, a bruise under one eye and holding a paper. The next was of him and a dark-haired girl who looked his age, not his… ex-husband. They were wearing party hats with a sign in the background proclaiming 'just divorced.' Two years ago.

Was… that why Roxas had gotten back in touch? He felt dirty for hoping. Surely Roxas had seen his 'in a relationship' status.

Besides, were two years enough to get over a divorce and an abusive relationship? Did Roxas not remember what Axel had accidentally done to him years ago?

He couldn't bring himself to reply to Roxas's message, but spent hours and hours, day after day, pouring over his profile, every picture, every ounce of Roxas's life he'd missed out on. Up until—

"I've… met someone, Axel." His boyfriend told him one evening. Axel noticed the bags by the door then. "And you're hung up on your hometown. On this Roxas person."

Axel waited for the pain and sadness. But there was an odd sense of relief. So they parted with hugs and muttered 'no hard feelings.'

He started packing the next day, putting most of his stuff in storage, turning in his notice to both the apartment and his job. Maybe he'd be back. Maybe he'd wind up staying.

He drove hundreds of miles knowing full well that Roxas could take one look at his face and tell him to go away. He could put his fist into Axel's nose, yell at him for leaving. But he had to try. He had to see Roxas. Had to talk to him.

Within a few days, he was driving onto familiar roads, and unsurprisingly the town hadn't changed much.

He looked everywhere for Roxas with no luck. He wasn't at his listed workplace. Axel wasn't sure where he lived now. So, exhausted he checked into the one hotel for an extended stay and passed out after checking in on social media.

---

The next day he went back out, running into old friend after old friend. At the grocery store, the diner, the main square. He met families, husbands, wives, kids. So many of them asked if he'd seen Roxas, but yet no one could tell him exactly where he was.

"He's been through a lot the past few years, I'm sure he'd be happy to see you again."

"He works up at the skate shop, but I think he's got today off."

"I swear I saw him at the skate park a couple of hours ago. You should go say hi."

"Axel! Oh man, Roxas is going to be so happy to see you!"

On and on. But it started to feel like he was following a phantom around town. He was always gone before Axel got there, leaving him to wonder if he was avoiding him or if it were just a case of bad timing.

But once the sun started to sink towards the horizon, he headed down to the beach… their beach and posted a picture of the sunset. And he stood there, hands in his pockets watching the fading sun, feeling eighteen again.

It was beautiful, shifting into deep reds and oranges. He hadn't seen anything like it in years, not since he left for the city.

"Nothing like sunsets on the beach, huh?"

He must have missed the crunch of footsteps drowned out by the ocean and nearly jumped out of his skin.

The voice was so achingly familiar, maybe a hint deeper. He turned, and there Roxas was, standing next to him. Just as short. Just as beautiful. Axel tugged his hands from his pockets, one halfway to Roxas's face before he let it fall to his side.

"Yeah, they really are." He turned back to the sunset but jumped again when a hand slid into his. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"Saw you were back in town, and then the sunset picture. Figured there'd be only one place to find you."

"Why come find me?"

"Because I've missed you," Roxas spoke like it was the simplest thing. The most obvious thing. "Besides, at least a dozen people mentioned you'd been around looking for me."

"I… saw what you've been through."

"Oh." His hand tightened around Axel's. "The marriage?"

"The divorce."

"He hit me," Roxas said with absolutely no emotion. "I ran when he broke a rib. Got a restraining order, then a divorce. He's in jail now."

"I wasn't going to ask," Axel mumbled.

"Everyone else does," Roxas whispered, barely audible over the waves. "Why come back? You used to talk..." He took a shaky breath, leaning into Axel's arm. "Used to talk about us getting out of here someday. I thought you hated it here."

"I thought I did too. Thought there were better things out there. But I only came to realize everything I cared about had been left behind." Axel's fingers tightened around Roxas's and he swallowed hard. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Already did." There wasn't even a second of hesitation before Roxas brought Axel's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his skin, lips searing like fire.

Axel didn't ask why. Didn't ask how. He turned and cupped Roxas's jaw, tilting his head up in an old familiar gesture, to kiss him.

Roxas's arms came up to circle his neck, to hold them tight together and Axel couldn't help but picture Roxas, stretched up on his toes in the sand, just like old times.

They kissed until the sun disappeared, until the moon was high in the sky, before heading back into town, hand in hand to have a nice long talk.