#meant being guilty.' FUCKING DEAD ON THIS SUNDAY MORNING

[vvanessaives]

i think the Thing that makes vhanya's tragedy so..tragic to me is her youth. but not in a 'omg dying young, she had so much to live :(' which is. well rip to her. but more like every single mistake she does is in a way..normal. like mistakes you do when you're a teen and are sooo dumb but make you learn and they shouldn't weight too much or more like. they shouldn't have you pay a too expensive price. while vhanya's mistakes aren't looked at with kindness, there's no Understanding. she walks around with her rage and tears like she's screaming "i'm still learning!! don't i deserve some kindness?" and instead of a "it's okay that you fucked up, we can fix this" it's mistakes that shape forever her future without any way to rewind and idk it gets me </3

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 5

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon except for a few random points mentioned this time. It’s mainly fluff, lemon zest 🍋 and a bit of angst. There’s also some Billy POV in there. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

A grin curved his lips upwards, “How d’you like your eggs in the mornin’, ma’am?”

“Over easy,” you grinned back. He tapped his shoulder a couple of times with the kitchen spoon, “Ummm.. how about scrambled? And then I’ll give you the “over easy” version afterwards.”

That damn smirk of his, you thought, it’s downright dangerous.

The two of you were sitting at your kitchen island, eating breakfast. The scrambled eggs were really tasty, you complimented him. He’d preened a little, “I’m quite a good cook, sweetheart,” he said, “learned how to look after myself quite early on in life.”

Suddenly he put his fork down, and looked over at you. His face was serious, and you saw some sadness in his eyes. “My mother abandoned me when I was a really young kid. She was a junkie, and couldn’t look after herself never mind me, so I suppose I should thank her. I’d probably be dead otherwise. Got put in a group home, stayed there until I aged out and went straight into the Marines. And got my degree on the government’s dime.”

Your hand moved to cover his, “Billy, you’ve done so well, and you’ve achieved it all on your own. I’m proud of you, and I hope you’re proud of yourself too.��� He beamed at you, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Yeah... yeah, I am. Thanks, angel, I appreciate you sayin’ that. I wanted to tell you about it, wanted to be honest with you. In case when you saw the suits, the car, the penthouse and all, you thought I was some kind of privileged trust fund kid.”

He looked down, “There’s a stigma about growin’ up in the system, y’know? I wanted to get it out on the table so you know who I really am and where I came from.”

“I don’t care about that, Billy.” He nodded, thumb stroking your hand which was still on top of his. “I really hoped that you wouldn’t ... but I wanted to be sure, and I’m really glad you feel like that. Also I needed you to know that I’m bein’ honest with you.”

You thought you saw a closed-off look on his face for a moment, but then it was gone and he smiled over at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You had spent the rest of Sunday together, lazing around, watching various shows on Netflix before venturing out for a late lunch to a local diner. Billy had eventually headed home after another steamy session in the bedroom, regretful about not spending the night, sighing that he had a really early start in the morning, a ‘job’ he couldn’t tell you anything about.

He’d explained a bit more about his work earlier in the day while you were eating in the diner. How a lot of it was classified as it was military or political in nature, so he couldn’t go into detail. You’d nodded, and said you understood. But you’d asked some questions nevertheless; how many of the assignments did he go on himself, just how dangerous they were, had he or his men ever been injured.

You got the impression that, although he couldn’t tell you much about who was involved or why they needed protection details, he was pleased you were showing an interest in his work.

The two of you agreed that you’d meet up during the week, Billy saying he’d text you to confirm when and where as he wasn’t sure how long this job would last, maybe at least a couple of days.

He’d insisted on putting his numbers into your phone himself, so you’d unlocked it and handed it to him, wandering back to your bedroom to put some more clothes on. Shortly afterwards he’d kissed you long and hard and made his way downstairs to his car, and you’d watched from your balcony as he drove away. Then you’d laughed at yourself - you were acting like some medieval damsel watching her knight disappear off to war or something.

Sliding the glass door closed, you went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. The apartment suddenly felt very empty without Billy in it. How quickly you’d got used to him being there.

You wandered across to the sofa with your newly-poured glass of wine, noticing your phone on the coffee table. Oh yeah, Billy had added his numbers. A sudden twinge of insecurity hit you. What if he hadn’t actually put his direct numbers in there, and just pretended to? You sat down, looking at it lying there. I mean, it wasn’t like you couldn’t track him down at Anvil, but you would no doubt have to go through a receptionist and you could be endlessly stone-walled.

You eventually picked up the phone and unlocked it. Scrolling to your contacts, you suddenly burst out laughing. Billy had put his numbers in there and had also taken a selfie, him smouldering into the camera. He’d attached it to the contact details with a description.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy drove away from her apartment, truly wishing he could’ve stayed over again.

But then he’d shaken his head slightly, laughing to himself; she’d definitely got one thing right - he was a big sap. Since when did he find himself almost playing house with a woman? Telling her she was his girlfriend - as she’d put it - after five minutes? He was a one-and-done kinda guy!

But then Billy Russo admitted to himself that something had hit him smack in the heart when he’d first seen her, sitting there looking stunning and somehow fragile with that creep trying to come onto her. Well turns out she wasn’t fragile in the least! However when those beautiful eyes had met his... well, he was a goner. Solid gone. And then he’d pursued her like a lovestruck idiot.

He hadn’t ever seriously thought about love. Or believed in it, for that matter. Certainly not when he’d been bedding all those women when he’d been on leave or since he’d left the Marines. All that shit just wasn’t for him. And now? Yeah, not so sure.

Billy almost felt like he was under some kind of spell, it had hit him so quickly. Yeah, like she’d enchanted him or something ridiculous, straight out of a Disney or Harry Potter movie. Was this love, then? His stomach clenched every time he saw her, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanted to be with her all the time, hell he was even jealous of Jake though he wasn’t a threat. Was he? No, surely not. And what about Steve, the other one? Yeah, there he was doing it again - unreasonable jealousy.

And when they’d first slept together, he felt like he’d finally understood what making love meant.

Billy Russo, who until a few days ago had spent most of his leisure time in life actively fucking women - how he’d always described it to himself and others - was now a confirmed big sap. He chuckled to himself.

He suddenly remembered ripping the shit out of a young Marine in his squad who’d come back off leave totally besotted with some girl. The kid had confessed (stupid move) to all the guys that they’d made love, a distant and dreamy look in his eyes. At the time, Billy had scoffed at him and endlessly humiliated him about it. In an affectionate way of course, he told himself.

But he felt guilty about that. Who’s the one with the distant and dreamy gaze now, Russo?

In all truth, Billy felt like he was having some kind of out of body experience. As if Previous Billy Russo was looking down in horror at his new self, yelling at him to get his fucking head back on straight. But New Billy Russo wasn’t listening because, well because he realised he liked feeling this way.

And he thought that she felt the same. He knew she was fighting it and wouldn’t admit anything to him, but there were little tells that had given her away. He decided he’d stay on his best behaviour, just keep trying to win her over, and he felt in his bones that they would be together.

But he did feel a sting of guilt. He had been honest with her, but he’d also been selective with what he’d told her about Anvil, how it all started, and this ongoing shit he and Frank were still embroiled in. One day... one day, and hopefully soon, he could tell her absolutely everything.

His phone, clipped to the dash, vibrated.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the caller ID, hit the button and answered it.

“Dinah... what can I do for you?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You, meanwhile, had just finished your second glass of wine and were admitting to yourself that you were really missing Billy. Oh this is bad, your brain yelled at you, very bad. You’d only known this guy for a few days and you were falling for him. Or - okay - had already fallen for him. It scared you, quite honestly.

He was charming, funny, handsome, sexy. An amazing lover. He’d been disarmingly honest with you about his past, but... but what? Why was there a ‘but’? Because there was something niggling at the back of your mind. Just a couple of expressions you’d seen on his face, quickly gone. An indication of more happening just underneath the surface than you knew about. Billy had a distinct air of danger about him, and you wondered what else was going on inside that dark head of his.

You’d fallen for him, yes... but you were also going to remain wary of him, until you were certain you knew everything you could about him.

Reaching over and pulling your laptop towards you across the coffee table, you typed Billy’s name into Google.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning, Billy parked his car and walked into Anvil. His reception staff wished him a respectful Good Morning, he nodded to them and headed upstairs to his office. Frank was already there, reading a newspaper.

“Mornin’ Bill,” he said, looking up. “Frankie,” nodded Billy, “want a coffee?” and kept on walking towards the coffee machine in the corner. “Nah, just had one, thanks.”

He poured out an Americano for himself, then chuckled loudly. Frank quirked an eyebrow at him, and Billy shrugged back. “I met someone last week. She owns two cafés, and she’s a coffee snob. Gonna refine my palate, she said.”

Frank looked back down to his paper before commenting, “I’m impressed you know that much about her, Bill. Didn’t think you bothered cos you usually cut & run.” Billy smirked, knowing he couldn’t dispute what Frank had just said, but he was going to enjoy the next slice of the conversation. Even just to see the expression on Frank’s face.

“I....like her. A lot. I want something with her.” “Something?” Frank chortled, “...you mean, like a relationship, Bill?” He looked closely at Billy, saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face and his jaw dropped. “You do, don’t you?! Fuckin’ hell! Never thought I’d see the day, Russo.” Billy burst out laughing.

“Well, that makes two of us, Frankie. But...” he spread his hands out to either side of him, “...it is what it is. And I’ll fill you in on all the details later. Now, this thing with Madani and Homeland - let’s get it nailed down.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

That same morning, you sat at your desk and slowly twirled from side to side in your chair. You sipped your cappuccino, and thought about Billy.

Little cousin had done you a favour this time and earlier on had delved into her company’s database, digging out some further information on Billy and Anvil which Google couldn’t provide you with. All it had given you was the bare minimum of the company’s founding date and numerous photos of Billy looking hot in his designer suits.

She told you she’d heard of him, and had also seen him at several events similar to the one you’d attended. You’d admitted you were seeing him, and she’d firstly screeched down the phone at you, nearly bursting your eardrum, before saying, “Now see, if you hadn’t gone in my place you wouldn’t have met him!” “Yeah, yeah, alright. Tell me what you’ve got for me.”

In a more serious tone, she said, “Just be careful though, his company seems a little... well, shady let’s just say. I mean, in the security business,” her voice lowered, “there’s usually some dodgy dealings or other going on. But him and his colleagues seem to have got themselves in some deep water with two federal agencies. I’ll email this stuff to you now and you’ll see what I mean.” You thanked her and hung up before she could tell you that now you owed her another favour.

You’d read through the attachments she’d sent you, and your eyes had got wide as you read that Billy and Anvil had originally been funded by a shadowy CIA guy, who’d then been killed in a gun battle between un-named protagonists. You sussed out that Anvil must’ve been one of those involved, as Billy and his friend Frank had been arrested and interrogated by Homeland Security before being released without charge. That struck you as a bit odd, but there were no more details available.

Your phone had chosen that moment to buzz with a FaceTime call from the man himself. You’d hesitated then accepted the call, and Billy’s handsome face popped up in front of you, with a wide smile plastered on it. You could see he was in his car. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” he said in a low sexy voice, and you felt your stomach tighten with excitement. This guy... the effect he had on you....!

You’d smiled and replied, “Morning, Billy.” He tilted his head towards you, dark eyes drawing you in, “Missin’ me? Because I’m missing you.” Shaking your head, smirking, you said, “We only saw each other a few hours ago so no, I’m not.” A cheeky grin from him this time, “Don’t believe you, angel, I think you can’t wait to see me again.” “You’re such a cocky bastard, Billy,” you laughed, “Why are you calling, exactly?”

His smile was a genuine one as he said, “I just wanted to see you before I head off to this job. Not sure when I’ll be able to call next. Remember - I’ll let you know as soon as I can when we can meet up this week.” You nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” He blew you a kiss, saying “Bye, angel,” before he rang off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

One of your friends had called shortly afterwards to ask if you wanted to meet up for lunch, as you hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Deciding that you could do with some girl time, you arranged to meet her in a steak house near the Chrysler Building, and then decided you’d better get some work done before you headed out for your long lunch hour.

The two of you had met up just outside the restaurant and had gone in chatting away to each other. Being shown to your table, you sat down only to spot Billy Russo walking in behind a small dark-haired woman. Your mouth dropped open, and your eyes took in every detail of her. She was pretty, with big dark eyes, olive skin and wavy hair in a shoulder-length bob. Billy, you noted, had his hand on her lower back, guiding her to their table, just as he had with you when you went for your first drink with him.

You leant forward to your friend, “I’m so sorry about this but we’re gonna have to go somewhere else.” She looked concerned, “What’s wrong?” “Someone I need to avoid just came in,” you explained, “c’mon, I’ll tell them I’ve had an emergency at work or something.” You both stood up, and you fled from the restaurant before you repeated your actions at that house party, which had got you arrested. You didn’t want to end up in jail this time just because of that jerk and his little lady.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy looked up as two women who’d been sitting near him stood up and started rushing towards the door. Weird, he thought, they hadn’t even been served judging by the menus still laying on their place settings. He looked back at them, and one of them turned back briefly to her friend behind her as they exited the premises.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It was her. His angel. Oh fuck! Did she..? Yes, she must’ve seen him and... he glanced at Madani across the table from him, reading through the menu choices. She glanced up, smirking at Billy but it quickly dropped off her face, when she saw the expression on his.

“Billy?” she said, but he’d dumped his napkin onto his plate by now and was standing up.

“Sorry, Dinah... I gotta go.” An annoyed look on her face, she growled, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I... there’s someone I gotta catch up with, and I just saw them leaving.” He walked away from their table, and towards the door of the restaurant. As he did so he heard Madani say in a harsh voice, “Is it a woman, Russo?” but ignored her.

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23

[andypantsx3]

in cinders | 2 | preparations

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 24,362 words / 9 chapters

summary: You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate.

tags: cinderella AU, prince!Shouto, romance, misunderstandings, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

In the weeks that led up to the ball, you had your hands full.

Literally, some days, since your plans relied heavily on your long history of bribery via pastry.

Hagakure, Ashido, and Kaminari had not been easy to convince. You’d had to beg and plead and pilfer any sweet cake you could get your hands on, cashing in every favor and ounce of goodwill you’d stored up over the long years. Between your shifts, you’d spent almost every hour of the last weeks in their respective quarters, pleading with them sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. Kaminari had required the firmest touch, scared out of his mind at the thought of retribution from the notoriously foul-tempered Captain Bakugou for leaving his post.

But one week out from the ball, you had the makings of a plan and the raw materials needed for its implementation.

The one unexpected hurdle was Ochako herself.

“Go to the ball?” she gasped the evening when you revealed your plan. “Me?”

The two of you had been readying for bed in the small storage room that doubled as your shared sleeping quarters. She stood frozen over her bed where she’d been about to climb in.

You smiled coaxingly. “Just picture it, Ochako! The pink fluffy dress! Dancing with a handsome noble! I have it all arranged.”

She looked doubtful. “I don’t know about all this.”

You fixed her with a dead-eyed look. “Have I ever led you astray?”

She stared back. “Well, no, but--”

You waved her off. “Then just trust me.”

She stayed standing as you flopped onto your straw pallet. A stalk had escaped from its covering and poked you insistently in the back.

“Ochako, I want you to be happy,” you said, sighing.

She blinked. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with getting back at Kamiko for what she said the other week?”

You couldn’t help the guilty look that flashed across your face. “Only a little.”

Ochako huffed a small laugh, but quickly sobered. “Y/N, you’ll be whipped if they find you out. And me!”

You shot up in bed. “They won’t! And I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I have a plan.”

Ochako finally sank into the straw of her own mattress. “I don’t even know how to dance.”

You grinned. “You will tomorrow morning. I roped the palace dance instructor into teaching you a few basic steps. Did you know honey cakes are her husband’s secret weakness?”

Ochako fidgeted. “Y/N, I have work tomorrow morning.”

You stretched. “No, I have work tomorrow morning. Your half day of rest has mysteriously been extended.”

You heard the straw of her mattress rustle. “You...you shouldn’t have done this for me.”

You smiled to yourself. “Maybe not, but at this point I’ve filched so many pastries that we might as well see it through.”

A soft chuckle issued from her side of the room. “You must really love cleaning those fireplaces. The housekeeper will be so furious if she finds out - she’ll have you up to your eyeballs in the kitchen hearths for the rest of your days.”

You laughed. “Lucky for me I look rather fetching in black.”

She laughed again before a friendly silence descended on the room, and you heard no more argument from her. You dropped off to sleep, satisfied.

In the morning, you were less satisfied having to be out of bed in the cold, pre-dawn hours on what was usually your one morning off. But it was worth it for Ochako. Almost more than that, it was worth it entirely for the purpose of wiping the smug smile off Kamiko’s infuriatingly cherubic face. Ochako was going to become a fucking princess, as far as you were concerned, and if all went well, she could have you trained to be her ladies’ maid.

As you let yourself into the kitchens to light the fires and put on water for the morning's tea, you let yourself imagine it, smugly watching Kamiko clean the chambers of the girl she had once made fun of. If you planned on calling for Ochako’s linens to be changed way more often than was necessary, well, that was nobody’s business but your own.

The chambermaid in question eyed you suspiciously when she came into the kitchens hours later for her breakfast. “Isn’t it Ochako’s morning to be on shift? Where is the little wench?”

You shrugged, stoking the fire with more interest than usual. “She’s not feeling well. I’m to cover her morning off. Got her schedule memorized, do you?”

Kamiko wore an expression like she’d bit into a tart to find it full of ants. “Don’t test me, cinders. I’d hate for Rikido to have to look into where all his missing sweets have gone.”

You froze, then forced yourself to relax. There was no way for her to know you’d been running a small but successful pastry ring out of the kitchen for years. If she had, you’d have already been reported into your next lifetime.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” You fixed her with your most innocent look.

She sneered, “I’m sure you don’t.”

You rolled your eyes but ignored her and set about the rest of your work with enthusiasm. Right at this very minute Ochako was learning the steps that would waltz her straight onto the throne. Petty revenge could come later.

The rest of the day dragged, but you attacked your chores with unusual vigor. At night, you returned to your room to find Ochako bouncing excitedly around the room, sweeping into elegant curtsies.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed as you entered, looking tired but pleased. “You’re back!”

You sank thankfully onto your pallet, glad to be off your feet. “How’d it go?”

“Wonderful!” she smiled. “Dance mistress says my steps are rather basic at this point, but they would go a long way in getting me through any fete.”

You chuckled. “Little does she know which fete.”

Ochako smiled. “Do you really think I’ll look like I belong?”

You sat up and rustled around underneath your pallet, digging out something blindly pink and thrusting it in front of her.

“With this, you will,” you gestured with it meaningfully. Ochako took in the sight of the dress, eyes widening.

Though unfinished, you thought you’d done a rather good job. With Mina’s help, you’d been able to procure enough of the bright fabric and tailor it to current trends. The bodice was close-fit to the torso, but swept out in a dramatic waterfall of fabric at the hips, meant to emphasize the wearer’s hourglass shape. Mina’s tiny, perfect stitches decorated the collar and sleeves, while your own fumbling attempts had been hidden closer to the waist and skirt hem, further from the eye. Once the dress was set with the lace Hagakure had ferreted out of the laundry rooms, Ochako would be indistinguishable from any noblewoman in that room.

Ochako gasped. “It’s perfect!”

You smirked, then turned to your mattress, pulling out a matching mask, embroidered with small roses done in a light pink thread. It was much better than your stitching on her dress. This, you thought, was your masterwork. A perfect example that you would be well-suited to being Ochako’s ladies’ maid, once given the proper training.

“Y/N, I can’t believe this!” she said, taking the mask and dress in hand. She ran her fingers over it lovingly, the way you’d been setting a proprietary hand to the prince’s birthday books. You could tell she liked it.

“You may repay me in a tidal wave of fine foods once you’re a noblewoman,” you laughed. "You can teach me how to read and let me spend Sundays lounging."

She blushed. “You don’t actually think I’d catch anyone’s eye.”

You certainly did. Ochako was shy, but there was no arguing her good looks. Even without her sweet-tempered charm, she could have reeled Prince Shouto in by her cute face and ample bosom alone.

“Of course you will,” you said. “If you don’t have at least three proposals by the end of the night, I will eat Kamiko’s apron.”

She chuckled. “Why Kamiko’s?”

“Well if you don't, I'll still need mine, won’t I?”

She laughed again, and you took the garments from her, stowing them safely away under your mattress again.

The two of you settled down to bed, feeling giddy. Only three more days, you thought, until your weeks of work paid off.

The three days passed quickly in a flurry of chores and midnight sewing. Your fingers were raw from the stitching and you spent every shift bleary-eyed from the nights spent hunched over Ochako’s dress, but this was the evening it would all become worth it.

Or it would be, if Ochako hadn’t suddenly come down with a case of cold feet.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she fretted that morning, spooning over her thick porridge. “I feel sick.”

You gaped at her. “Ochako, you will climb into that fluffy monstrosity or so help me I will feed you to Captain Bakugou.”

This didn’t even make her laugh and your heart thumped in your chest. Was she really going to back out? Did she really feel so self-consciously? You hadn’t accounted for this in your plan.

“You have to go,” you said, feeling a little brittle yourself. “Ochako, you’ve wanted to so badly.”

She scratched a pale fingertip against the rough wood of the servant’s dining table. “I don’t know if I can. I’m so nervous.”

You ducked down to look into her face. “You’re going to look so beautiful and you know the dances,” you said. “You’re going to be incredible. What more would make you less nervous?”

She was silent a moment, the scritch of her nail the only sound in the drafty dark of the pre-dawn kitchens.

“Would you go with me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“To the ball!” she said, turning to you. “You could come with me!”

You scowled. You had in no way intended to go to the ball yourself, looking forward to spending the evening most servants had off tucked up in your bed with the scraps from the dinner preparations. You’d been eyeing the buckwheat noodles the prince so loved and had fully intended to see what all the fuss had been about.

Besides that, you’d only accounted for Ochako going. You’d produced one dress and one mask, and even those had taken weeks of multiple people pinching fabrics and sewing late into the night. It wasn't like you could magic more garments out of the air.

“Ochako, I don’t have any clothes,” you said. “I can’t go.”

“Please!” she cried, latching on to one of your threadbare sleeves. “I don’t think I can do it without you.”

You were saved from responding by the first trickle of servants pouring into the kitchens for breakfast. You closed your mouth, thinking hard as you got up to fetch hot water for those stations above you, serving them tea and fetching them plates.

An idea had dawned on you by the time the crush of servants cleared out after their hasty breakfasts. The thought of pulling it off made you stiff with fear - as there were so many factors that could go wrong -- but it was worth the risk.

You thought about it long into the day, Ochako shooting you nervous looks. You would have to be careful, but you thought you could make it work.

As the day faded, the lanterns were lit. The ball would begin soon, and servants made their way to an early bed. You left Ochako to prepare in your bedroom, stealing into the dark and empty laundry rooms.

If Ochako wanted you to be there, then you would make it happen. You were going to fairy godmother this self-conscious girl into a happily ever after.

[verai-marcel]

Do What I Dare (RDR2 Fanfic, Biker AU, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You've been dating Arthur for about four months now, and if you hadn't seen that photo of his biker gang, you wouldn't have guessed that he was once an outlaw. He's so gentle, polite, and kind to you that you didn't believe he had a wild side. A picnic out in the hills proves you wrong. 

Author’s Notes: Many thanks to @reddeaddufus for this amazing idea! So timeline-wise, this is happening during that six months when Journalist!Reader is still living in her apartment but she and Charles are already together. Cosplay!Reader & Javier got together a couple of weeks before this. And of course, the title is an obscure lyric; try and guess the song!

Tags: outdoor sex, mild exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, some name calling, medium honor Arthur 

Find the AO3 link here, sweetheart.

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

Arthur had stopped by as he did every morning before opening, and after hearing that you were opening alone, immediately began helping you set up chairs and tables. He really was a great guy.

Usually Charles was here earlier than you, but this morning his lady friend was feeling ill, so he had texted you to ask if you could open up without him. You hoped everything was okay. At this point, you had met both Charles’ and Javier’s girlfriends and they were both nice people, though their personalities couldn’t be farther apart. One was bold and unafraid while the other was shy and had a bit of social anxiety. They were both fun to hang out with whenever the boys got together to talk about marketing.

While Arthur was handing you the mugs and glasses from the dishwasher so you could put them away, he spoke.

“You free on Sunday?”

“Yup! What’re you planning?” you asked.

“Well, the weather’s s’pposed to be nice, so I thought maybe we’d go on a bike ride up the ridgeway.”

“That sounds awesome! Should we make it a picnic?”

“Sure.” He paused before looking at you a bit shyly. “Can ya make some of those cucumber sandwiches?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” you said happily.

“Thank you.”

You smiled. Arthur had never stopped being polite to you, even after dating him for the past four months. Together, the two of you finished getting everything ready just in time. 

“Lookin’ forward to Sunday,” Arthur said as he grabbed his jacket. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as you wrapped your arms around him for a quick hug before he left for work. Watching him go, you smiled as you opened the cafe to the public. 

***

The Ridgeway was a scenic road that went north and south through the state, with the most beautiful part being, in your humble opinion,  the section nearby that weaved past the lake and through some of the forest east of town. There were several viewpoints along the path for tourists to stop and gawk at the view, but the locals knew that the best part was going off the Ridgeway onto random roads to find secluded dead ends that then led to even better views, untainted by signs and trash.

You were clinging onto Arthur as he wove his way on his Indian Scout motorcycle. Remembering the first time he had shown you his bike, you smiled. At that time, you had been dating for a month and had never seen him drive anything; he had always met you somewhere or you came to his place. When he had asked if you wanted to go on a bike ride, you assumed he had meant a bicycle. Boy, were you wrong. When he had rolled up to your apartment on his matte black motorcycle and handed you a helmet, you had been shocked to your core. And also turned on as all hell; he had been wearing a leather jacket and dark blue jeans, motorcycle boots, and fingerless gloves.

It was the same outfit he was wearing now as the two of you rode up the road, the sound of the motor muffled by the helmet over your head. After a few more twists and turns along the Ridgeway, he finally turned onto an unmarked road that led to a small picnic area. It was originally made by a historical preservation society decades ago, but fell into disuse after a rock slide made the road unusable by car.

A motorcycle, however, could easily wind around the rocks and get past.

Through the trees and the debris the two of you went, until you reached the small clearing at the top of the hill. A small picnic bench with one forgotten trash can and two parking spots were here, along with a gorgeous view of the hills and valleys. You popped your helmet off and practically leapt off the bike, running to the picnic table and clambering on top of it like a kid. Surveying the scenery, you eventually pulled out your phone and took a panoramic photo.

“This is so cool, I didn’t even know about this place!” you squealed with delight.

Arthur chuckled. “Glad you like it, darlin’.”

Hopping down from the table, you took the picnic case from Arthur’s hands and started to help him set up. Tossing the picnic blanket over the table, the two of you laid out your feast: cucumber sandwiches, two beers, summer sausage, a bit of bison jerky, and some grapes.

The two of you ate and chatted, the comfortable air between you two allowing for the occasional pause, the silence filled with contentment. Soon your line of questioning started to veer towards his past, something that he rarely mentioned.

“So, is this the same bike you had in that photo on your wall?”

“Yup.”

After a few moments without him adding anything else, you tried to get some more out of him. “Wow. Would you ever trade it in?”

“Never.”

You tilted your head at him; he was only giving you one word answers and not elaborating. “Should I not ask about your past?”

Arthur sighed. “There were some good times, but in the end, things fell apart and we chose to get out. I still feel… guilty, I guess. We weren’t good people.”

You reached for his hand and held it with both of yours. “But you’re a good man on the inside,” you said quietly. “And you’re doing good now.”

He gave you a crooked grin. “I must be, if you’re stickin’ around.”

You laughed. “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for bad boys.”

Arthur’s eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah, maybe I secretly want a guy who’ll fuck me out in the open, get all raw and wild.” You waggled your eyebrows.

Laughing, Arthur stood up. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” you said with a wink. You stood up as well and helped him clean up. Once everything was back in the picnic case, you took it from him and set it aside. Climbing across the table, you knelt before him and took his head between your hands. “Kiss me.”

Arthur smiled and pulled you off the table and into his lap, your legs straddling his as he tangled his fingers in your hair and pushed your head closer to him. He nibbled your lips lightly at first, delicately playing with you as his other hand reached under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back. His kisses grew deeper as his touch became more insistent; the grip in your hair tightened as he pulled you closer to him, pressing you against his hard chest. 

He pulled away and gave you a naughty look before he took hold of the hem of your shirt. "Can I?" 

You obediently lifted your arms and let him pull the shirt over your head. He laid it down behind you before gently pushing you down on the table. Bending over to lay kisses along your collarbone, he pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening. Attracted to the sight, Arthur enveloped one in his mouth while he pinched and pulled gently on the other, making you moan and writhe underneath him. 

"Arthur," you sighed as he shifted, making sure both your nipples had equal attention from his talented tongue. Wrapping your legs around him, you pulled him closer to feel his cock straining in his jeans. 

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. "I got an idea, sweetheart."

Carrying you to his bike, he set you on your feet and turned you around. You understood what he wanted and felt a flush of heat as he started to undo the fly of your pants. He slowly slid them down your hips, just past the curve of your backside. 

"Bend over, darlin'," he crooned. You gladly did so, your tits hanging out over the side of his motorcycle seat. Sticking your ass out for him, you turned your head towards him and gave him a smirk.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” you taunted.

His dark smile made shivers go down your spine as anticipation and lust swirled into your body. Stepping forward, he grabbed your butt with both hands, his fingers digging into your flesh before slapping your ass.

“I’d teach you how to be a good girl,” he rumbled. He slapped the other cheek. “Make sure you learn how to listen.”

“Oh, yes, teach me Arthur,” you purred, wiggling your body. With one hand he pressed you down on the motorbike seat to keep you still as he undid his button fly. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw him standing behind you, pulling out his hard cock and stroking himself as he stepped closer. You could feel him nudging your slit, sliding it back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. 

“Goddamn sweetheart,” he murmured. “All this honey fer me?”

You moaned as he pressed forward, the head of his cock stretching you slowly. Grabbing your hips, he kept on entering you until he filled you to the hilt, letting out a soft, low moan of satisfaction. He leaned over and kissed the shell of your ear.

“Just think, someone might come out here and find you, bent over my bike, getting filled with my cock.”

Your pussy tightened around him as you felt a rush of adrenaline.

“Oh yeah, gettin’ excited by that, ain’tcha?”

“Fuck me Arthur,” you half-growled, trying to move your hips towards him.

He chuckled, his hold on you as strong as steel. “I’m in control here, darlin’.” His hips pulled back and snapped forward, his bike shifting ever so slightly from his movement. He reached for your hair, pulling your head back so your back arched beautifully for his pleasure. Moving slowly at first, he built up a steady rhythm, fucking you with just enough control to prevent toppling his bike with the strength of his thrusts.

“Yer a dirty girl, gettin’ so hot from being fucked in the open,” he crooned. 

You were surprised at how aroused you were from this. The risk of being caught like this shot adrenaline through your body, giving you an incredible high. The thought of someone catching you in such a compromising position while you were getting railed like a whore over the seat of a motorcycle by a real biker outlaw was sexy, like a porn fantasy come to life. Your tits were bouncing and your juices were dripping down your thighs as your cries of pleasure echoed in the forest. His hands wandered, grabbing your neck, gripping your hips and fondling your breasts. And through it all, his cock kept hammering into you, a steady reminder that you were completely at his mercy and you loved it.

Suddenly Arthur brought his hand down against your ass again, making you yelp.

“Fuck, I love it when you squeeze my cock whenever I spank ya.”

You turned towards him. “Now you’re just doing that for fun.”

“Have to keep you in line somehow.”

You grinned and pushed your ass back at him, causing him to stop moving.

“Arthur!” you whined.

“Fuck yerself on me if you want it so bad,” he said with a mocking grin.

You growled but did as he said, undulating your hips, grinding down on his shaft and slowing your pace, letting him feel every inch of your tight channel as you slid forward and back on him. You felt a thrill of victory when he finally grabbed your hips and thrust inside of you, taking control of the speed again.

“Yer drivin’ me crazy,” he grunted as he leaned forward, crushing you against the bike seat. He reached around, rubbing your clit with an expert touch. He had gotten intimately familiar with your body in the past few months and knew exactly how to push you to your peak. Each stroke made your heart race, made your breath come out in labored gasps as he made you feel a blinding pleasure with each stroke of his fingers.

“Come fer me, darlin’,” he murmured into your ear. “I’m goin’ to fill you when you do.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as you felt your climax hit you like a gust of wind, taking you higher and higher as you cried out, only to have Arthur wrap a hand around your mouth to stifle your screams. You kept moaning, your sounds muffled as he continued to fuck you, faster and faster, until your body was shaking from being kept on the brink for so long.

Arthur let out a low moan as he came inside of you, filling you as he promised. He let his weight crush you against the leather seat as he caught his breath, for he knew you enjoyed the heaviness of his body every once in a while. 

After a few moments, he stood up, his cum spilling out as he pulled himself out of you. “Darlin’, you alright?”

“I’m good. Better than good. That was so hot.”

He laughed. “Better keep that inside of ya,” he said, pulling a bandana from his jacket and wiping your mixed juices from your inner thigh. “Don’t wanna get my bike dirty,” he said with a wink.

You slapped his arm as you laughed and pulled your clothes back on. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

He could only laugh with you as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you gently. “It’s all I could think of. Forgive me if I ain’t able to think properly right now.”

“I forgive you," you said, tapping his nose playfully.  "Now should we go back? We probably should take a shower.”

“And then round two?” he asked with a hopeful look.

You giggled. “If you’re feeling… up to it.”

“With you? Always.”

The two of you rode back down the Ridgeway, content and happy. You snuggled into his warm back, your arms wrapped around his waist, and blissfully enjoyed the view.

When the two of you returned to your apartment, while he was helping you put away the picnic gear, he chuckled softly.

“What is it?” you asked, curious.

“Was jus’ thinkin’ we should go ridin’ more often, since it gets you all hot and bothered like this.”

You just laughed as you stripped off your clothes to give him round two.

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

End Notes: The fic title is a lyric from I Feel Like A Woman by Shania Twain! The scenery was very much inspired by my visit to Asheville, North Carolina a long time ago. The Blue Mountain Ridgeway was absolutely gorgeous, definitely worth a visit. Hope you enjoyed this hot little story! With this part, this series is over. Thank you for your support!

[azozzoni]

Van Der Stoffels Part 6. Here we go...

*

Something was definitely off, but Lucas couldn’t quite figure it out.

It started when Lucas asked Jayden and Kes how the party had gone. Lucas caught the glance they had exchanged before answering.

“It was fine,” Kes said finally, and Lucas glanced between them. Jayden was practically glaring at the ground, but he didn’t say anything. A cool breeze rustled what was left of the dead leaves clinging to the trees in the courtyard. 

“Yeah? You hook up with anyone?”

“No,” Kes said, frowning at Jayden instead. Lucas had no idea why.

To be honest, Lucas had forgotten all about the party until Sunday morning, scrolling through Instagram. Instead, he’d been far more focused on Jens being there with him, Jens’ goofy smile and his suggestion they eat a bunch of junk food and discuss the merits of actions movies versus romance.

Lucas felt like his heart had been floating all weekend, caught up in the happiness of being with someone like Jens, someone he didn’t have to pretend around.

Jayden sniffed in the chilly air, kicking a wet leaf stuck to the pavement, and Lucas wondered why they weren’t inside the school instead of lingering outside where it was getting colder by the minute.

“Why didn’t you come?” Jayden asked sharply, unexpectedly, tilting his head to the side, almost accusatory.

Lucas’ mind immediately went to Jens, the way Jens had kissed him before getting on the train, somewhere between a casual goodbye kiss and something else. Lucas almost hadn’t wanted him to go. He didn’t let himself think about that right now, not with Jayden staring at him, demanding an answer.

“It was my mom,” he lied quickly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. There was a crease in Kes’ brow, and he was sure Jayden barely restrained his eye roll. “She was having a bad night.”

“You keep ditching us, man,” Jayden said before Kes could elbow him in the side, as if it meant something more than it did.

“It’s not on purpose,” Lucas had replied, feeling suddenly defensive even if Jayden was completely right. “I can’t control how my mom’s going to be.”

It hadn’t been his mom at all, the reason why he hadn’t come to the party. It had been Jens laughing at him, pulling him into a kiss that left him breathless and wanting, wishing his mom wasn’t home so maybe they could go there and do something more. He’d never wanted to do that in his life, not with any of the girls he’d made out with. He’d never felt that pull before, as if he’d let Jens do whatever he wanted.

“That’s such bullshit!” Jayden said, surprising Lucas, and he could only stare. “You’re always lying to us.”

“I am not,” Lucas argued, looking to Kes for help, but Kes didn’t say anything, arms crossed as though he agreed with Jayden. “You think I’d lie about my mom?”

Kes dropped his arms as Lucas stared at him. “I don’t know, man. You’ve been weird lately.”

“Weird?” Jayden repeated. “You fucking--”

Kes elbowed him hard and Jayden turned his glare to Kes instead.

Lucas had no idea what was going on, why they were suddenly so mad about him missing one party. He’d gone to all the other stupid parties.

“So I didn’t go to one party,” he said finally, jerking his shoulders. “I go to every other stupid party where girls ignore us and we get drunk or high and don’t do shit. Can’t I do one thing without you guys accusing me of lying or being weird? I have other shit to deal with.”

“Luc,” Kes said, in that calming tone he used, but Lucas wasn’t in the mood to be calmed down, not with the way Jayden was watching him, as though he had wronged them in some way.

“Don’t let him off so easy, Kes,” Jayden interrupted, stepping up to Lucas. “He’s been lying to us for weeks, always some bullshit about his mom.”

Lucas felt his stomach go cold. It was almost like they knew, but how could they? How could they know about Jens?

One glance at Kes and he knew he thought the same, that Lucas was keeping a secret.

“Don’t talk about my mom,” he said instead, shoving Jayden away from him.

“Why not?” Jayden asked, pushing right back. “Unless that’s not the problem.”

“Stop it,” Kes said as Lucas glared at Jayden in his face. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, angry and guilty and petrified all at the same time. Jayden couldn’t know. Jayden was just being an asshole because he’d missed some stupid party.

“What’s the truth, Lucas?” Jayden demanded, and Lucas felt the anger welling up inside him, bubbling up in his chest until he shoved Jayden hard, so hard he stumbled back a few steps, nearly fell on the concrete.

“Fuck you,” he snapped. “You’re such a dick.”

He didn’t wait for Kes to call after him. He wasn’t even sure Kes did, which just made it all worse as he stormed up the front steps and into school. As though he was the one being wronged here, as if he wasn’t the one keeping secrets, lying about where he was and who he was with, who kept texting him, why he was so distant these days.

His hands were shaking as he finally reached his locker, paused to stare at the door for a long moment. Only when his phone vibrated in his pocket did he finally move, pulling it out. It was just a notification, and he sighed. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe for Jens to somehow know and text him something stupid to make him smile.

Pulling up Jens’ messages, Lucas scrolled through for a moment, hoping to distract himself. He’d just gotten into a fight with Jayden and Kes. A real fight.

Fuck.

I wish you were here so we could skip school, he wrote, hitting send and slumping back against the lockers. He kept his head down in case Jayden and Kes decided to come this way, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t. He was pretty sure they didn’t want to talk to him, and he didn’t want to talk to them.

His heart jumped at the vibration of his phone, jerking it to his face.

I like being a bad influence on you, was Jens’ reply, and Lucas let out a breath. At least he had someone to talk to. The feeling didn’t last long as he remembered this was exactly why he was keeping secrets.

Tucking the phone away, he turned to his locker finally and opened it. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now, if there was any way to fix this. 

He didn’t come up with an answer as he finally shut his locker and slumped to class with everyone else. He avoided looking at Kes, and he was pretty sure Kes avoided looking at him, which somehow, just made everything worse.

[stuck-in-hawkins]

October 28th, 1993- Reunion

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Pairing: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656785/chapters/60958708

Will felt completely exposed. He just stood there breathless, staring, with his heart pounding a mile a minute.

Mike stood up from the couch, with that big beautiful smile. Before Will could pick his jaw off the floor, Mike was over to him in a few strides and had wrapped his long arms around him in a hug. Will was trying to process it all, but thoughts, sensations, and memories were crashing like waves against the shore and he could barely keep up.

His senses taking in all the familiar and new with Mike. How there seemed to be a place that Will just instinctively locked into in the embrace. The secure pressure of his arms wrapped around, the scent of some new cologne or deodorant that combined with the familiar smell of Mike that he could never quite pinpoint. There was the feeling of being small in his arms, and an onslaught of memories that beckoned. Will knew he’d lose himself in them if he dwelled but there would be time for that later. It just felt so good to be held by Mike again.

“Hey, Will.”

Will’s mind commanded, ‘Say something!’ He needed to recover so that he didn’t look like some lovesick puppy. But he was still taking everything in. He had only seen Mike a handful of times since leaving for college. He wasn’t used to how wide his shoulders were or how soft he’d gotten. Since 7th grade, Mike had been a beanpole, tall, bony. But now, all his edges were softened. He even had a bit of a belly. Will’s arms wrapped around Mike and felt… hair? Mike had a ponytail.

“Hey, hippie.” He pulled back from the hug. There were curls in the front of his face that were still too short to reach but it was plain as day: he had a ponytail. Will chuckled, “Since when did you decide to do a ponytail?”

“Since the last time the barber hacked off my hair.”

Will laughed, “You mean that buzz cut? That was two years ago!”

“Yep.” He took the hair in hand and flopped it so that it rested on his shoulder. It was a little past his shoulder. “This stuff grows like weeds.”

“Well, I’m still betting you’ll be the first to go bald.”

Mike held his hands up. “Don’t curse me like that, Will.”

“Sorry, but only models can have hair this perfect without paying for it later.” He hadn’t meant to, but he touched Mike’s hair as he said it. This would have been fine if he had just played it off. But, when he realized where his hand was, he drew it back so hard he hit himself in the chest.

Will thought, ‘Oh dear, God. Could you be any more obvious, Will Byers?’

And there it was, beneath the familiarity and laughter of friends, all the intimacy that had come during that time. The memory of being someone else’s other half was still ingrained in his every motion. The pathways in his brain had been carved out with each touch and a wall had come down. It could only be held up with conscious effort.

The motion was not lost on Mike and there was a recognition that crossed his face. But Mike smiled. Was it sympathetic, guilty, or just awkward? Will couldn’t tell. He mentally scolded his cheeks, trying to forbid them from blushing. But he could feel the heat rising. He hated being such an open book.

Mike broke the silence, “You always work on Sundays? Busy life on the prop scene?”

Will felt instant relief. Work was a safe topic. “It has peaks and troughs. Right now, I’m working on a bit of a passion project, making a monster.”

“Wait! Holy shit, like for a movie? What one??”

“It’s not for a movie, per say. It’s more like a talent scouting thing.”

Dustin interjected, “He couldn’t tell us, even if it was for one.”

Mike turned, “So you don’t badger him for info, then. Right, Dustin?”

“Uhh. Do you even know me, Mike? Of course, I do! He’s got to crack at some point.”

Will watched the way Mike’s eyes crinkled with those familiar laugh lines. And without even trying, Mike had made Will fall for him all over again. A part of him wanted to fight it, to just be happy with being friends. He wanted to save himself from the hurt that would follow. But this love was a familiar and warm embrace. It woke him up from the pain of that morning’s rejection. It was hope.

Mike was here for the first time in years. He was within reach again. He was gorgeous and smiling. But why was he there? What brought him out to Burbank after so long?

“When did you get in?”

“I think my plane landed at… 3?”

Dustin added, “Yeah. About then.”

“Feeling any jet lag?”

“For that crazy three hour difference?” He laughed. “It’ll probably just feel like a long day. I’m hoping that I can power through until 10.”

“Sounds like a late night for you, old man.”

Mike smirked, playfully, “Listen, just because you are some cool Hollywood cat now,” he poked Will in the stomach. Today of all days, he was wearing his crop top. And the contact was direct, skin on skin, Mike’s fingertips in his stomach for the briefest of seconds. Will felt his heart leap inside him. Mike did a double take looking at his mid drift, which had clear muscle tone. “And apparently working out?” Mike was astounded.

Will flustered, waving his arms, “I’m not like a musclehead, or anything! It’s just a thing I do with my friends from work.”

Dustin leered, “Don’t listen to him, Mike. It’s ‘cause he’s single and trying to bring home a beefcake.”

Will’s head snapped to Dustin. He was getting redder by the minute, “What the fuck, Dustin? BEEFcake?”

“Listen, you can’t bring home gorgeous men and me not talk about it. Seriously, Mike, these guys are all 10’s.” He winked.

Will was staring daggers at him, “I am never making you breakfast again.”

“WAIT! No!” He stretched his arm out, “I’m sorry!! I take it back.”

“Too late. It’s Captain Crunch for you from now on.”

Dustin groaned, and flopped over the couch, defeated. Will’s eyes flicked over to Mike and saw him suddenly self-conscious.

Mike caught his gaze and said, somewhat sheepishly, “I can’t say I’m really surprised, though. You're a catch, Will.” There was a sadness in it. As if Will was out of reach. As if he had been the one that got away.

The sincerity of it left Will speechless. Was he misinterpreting it? He wanted to let him know that the door hadn’t closed, but he didn’t want to be wrong and make things awkward. He’d clear the air later, when Dustin wasn’t there to watch. He couldn’t look at Mike’s face now.

He tugged the longer side of his hair behind his ear. A useless and nervous gesture, as the hair went right back in his face. “It’s not- I’m not-” He stopped himself. Take the compliment, he told himself. “Umm… thanks.”

Will saw Dustin smirking. Was he trying to play cupid? Will was going to chew him out the second he was alone. This was not something to play with.

Will desperately wanted to change the subject, “So, how are we going to show him the best California has to offer?”

“How about Gauman’s?”

Will shrugged, “Sounds good. What do you think, Mike?”

“That’s the place the Oscar’s are filmed at, right?” Mike asked.

“The very same. But, when there’s no Oscars or premiers it’s just a regular theater,” said Dustin.

Mike nodded. “Sounds awesome.” Will smiled seeing the childlike excitement on Mike’s face, the kind he used to get before a much anticipated movie or comic release. Will felt flutters and wondered if he would be coming down off of cloud nine anytime soon.

“Cool,” Will said. “I’ll go get dressed.” He needed to sort out everything going on inside his head.

Mike looked down at his own clothes, “Do we need to dress fancy or something?”

“Well, not exactly. You’re fine. But cut offs aren’t exactly something I wanna wear there.” He gestured at his own clothes.

Mike’s eyes flicked down and immediately looked away, his face beat red. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”

Will blushed. Holy fuck. They were both absolute disasters right now. He walked down the hallway to his room and flopped on the bed. Breathe. Why had Mike gotten so flustered? Why had he looked down? He could feel his stomach flipping at the suggestion in the question.

He had to calm down. But everything inside him felt like an amusement park, spinning, and jumping. How in the hell was he supposed to keep himself together? He had to wait until Mike was alone. It would be better to get it all out, clear the air. But what in the hell was he even supposed to say?

‘Hi, Mike! Nice to see you, by the way, I’m still in love with you. Is this a mutual thing? Or should I have gotten over all this years ago?’

He put the pillow over his head and groaned. He could get through this. At the very least, they would be in a theater. It was a familiar space, where they could forget everything else and just be the Party again, picking apart movies. Unravelling cinematography, digging up meaning, and concocting theories and Will could collect himself.   ______________________________

They bought tickets for Return of the Living Dead 3. It was one of those gritty B rated movies that the party had always loved tearing to shreds. After they gave Mike the unofficial tour around the handprints, they went inside and paid for their tickets. They were making their way past the various displays of movie props and costumes encased in glass when Will’s eye caught sight of something. He turned so fast he nearly got whiplash and made his way over to the case. Inside, there was a set up for Halloween: a town of monsters, each with unique and incredible designs. The setting looked like an ink drawing come to life, complete with the texture of hatching lines on the ground. This parade of characters was led by a charming skeleton in a Santa suit and a girl that looked like a cross between a rag doll and Frankenstein. He read the plaque beside it: The Nightmare Before Christmas.

“Don’t drool on the case, Will.” Dustin teased.

Mike came over, “What is it?”

“These are the stop motion puppets from the movie,” Will answered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the figures.

“Oh, Stop motion! Like the special effects for the older Hollywood films?” Mike asked.

“Or like Rudolph,” Dustin added.

Will stared, “It’s like a cross between the two. It’s completely embracing the horror aspect of the medium and combining it with the whole Christmas movie tradition.” He couldn’t get over the character designs, the idea behind it. The premise intrigued him and he desperately wanted to watch it.

“Should we see that one instead?” Mike suggested.

Will turned, “No! No. I’ll definitely have to come back to watch it though.”

Dustin leaned in, “We have to go see that movie with him, Mike. He’s gonna totally flip shit the whole time.”

Mike crossed his arms like he was studying Will, “You think like Labyrinth level freak out?”

“Hard to say,” Dustin retorted.

Will shook his head, “Nothing will be Labyrinth level freak out. That was a once in a lifetime movie. A high fantasy setting with elaborate backdrops and the most insane special effects featuring David Bowie as the Goblin King, himself.”

Dustin smirked, “Not to mention those pants.”

Will stood up, “Why does everyone always bring up the pants?”

“Because it was an enlightening experience. I finally understood what you see in men. And now I know with certainty that if Bowie were to ever ask I’d- OW!”

Will punched Dustin’s arm. “You’re not gonna finish that statement.”

Mike chimed in, “You know better than to speak blasphemy against The Thin White Duke around Will.”

Dustin played it up, soothing his wounded arm. “Aw, come on, Will. I didn’t mean it, I know you get first dibs.”

“How kind.”

They laughed as they went into the theatre together.   _________________________________________________

It was a tradition of theirs that following a movie showing, they would stand around the lobby and dissect it. However, since the theatre was getting crowded, Will suggested they relocate to the nearby diner. They began picking it apart in the car, shouting over one another the most grotesque or ridiculous parts. Will had the edge in these conversations now, because he could usually determine what exactly they used for certain effects. The guys enjoyed hearing Will’s insight into the behind the scenes techniques. Once they got in the diner and got their seats, the conversation quieted a bit and their ruminations became more well thought out. They cited different camera angles, acting, and plot points. It felt like old times.

After they ordered their food, Will asked, “So, Mike, how long are you in town for?”

“I’m staying for the week.”

Will almost dropped the fork he’d been messing with, “The whole week?!”

“Yeah, I have some vacation time that the boss told me I needed to use before December.”

“You didn’t want to save that for Christmas vacation?”

“Nah. A lot of families take that time off. School, you know?”

“That’s cool of you.”

Mike shrugged, “It’s just the decent thing, you know? El doesn’t really care about the holidays too much so I can be flexible.”

And a cloud swept over Mike’s face. Something he hadn’t wanted to bring up. Someone he didn’t want to mention. And Will could see him brace for the question.

Dustin asked, “How-?” He felt clumsy. “How is she doing?”

“She’s okay. She has her good days and her bad. I told you she lives with me now, right?”

Dustin nodded.

“That day I got my hair buzzed? Bad day.” He laughed it off, “I don’t think she recognized me for two weeks. The worst part? I actually bought a wig.”

Dustin nearly spit out his drink, “You what?”

Will laughed. “You didn’t!”

“Oh yeah. My first toupee. Looked like a fucking mop.”

Will joked, “Oh, please tell me you still have it. I’d pay money to see that.”

“No way. It’s haunting some thrift store now.”

Will shivered. “The worst thing to find there.”

Mike chuckled. He asked, “So, when is Lucas getting here?”

Will perked up, “What??”

Dustin suddenly looked awkward.

Mike turned, “Shit. Was that supposed to be a surprise? I thought he already knew.”

“No, it’s okay. Recover it! Surprise, Will!! Lucas will be here tomorrow!”

The smile on Will’s face could have lit up the city. He couldn’t contain his joy. His friends would be back together for the first time in so long. He didn’t see the way Mike was looking at him, the content smile and the eyes that just couldn’t get enough of Will’s warm glow.

Dustin was beaming, “Max will be picking him up and they’ll be staying at a hotel nearby.”

Will couldn’t believe it. “Dustin, did you put this all together?”

His friend got a little bashful and tried to shrug it off. “I mean… I just made a few calls. Lucas told me he’d be home in time for Halloween and I thought it was the perfect opportunity for a reunion.”

And then, something sank inside Will. Halloween. It had been ten years... Was that why Dustin was doing this? He coached himself, ‘Stop. Stop. Stop. Just enjoy this.’

He smiled. “It’ll be so good to see them again.”

The change wasn’t immediately visible to the guys.

Mike suddenly got excited, “Are we going to have a Halloween party or something to celebrate?”

Dustin answered giddy, “Oh, hell yeah! I mean we have the monster maker himself here!” He clapped Will on the back.

It shook Will out of his head. He saw how excited they were. Maybe this whole thing was orchestrated out of concern for Will, the thought of it stung his pride a bit. But then again, maybe it was the only way to get everyone together. The last time they had all been together had been when Hopper found El… She had been broken, disoriented, and wandering around New York City. The reunion had been one of grieving, trying to heal, and being there for Mike.

That was what going their separate ways had meant- only seeing each other for the big things: weddings and funerals so to speak. So, Will watched Mike and Dustin talking animatedly and let himself get caught up in it, too.

“As much as I’d like to bring the studio stuff home, I don’t think I could get it past Anderson. They get extra uptight at the shop with props and stuff around Halloween. Everyone wants to borrow stuff for their own parties. But I might be able to whip up something homemade.”

Dustin bragged to Mike, “It’s too bad you won’t get to see The Werehouse, Mike. It’s like a cinephile's wet dream. They have a full on werewolf! Fur and everything!”

Will asked, “Why wouldn’t he be able to go?”

“Because visitors are banned.”

“No, you are banned.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m banned’???”

“You were touching literally everything!”

“And that was enough to get me banned?”

“You gave Scottie such agita, I thought she was going to have an aneurysm. Do you not remember her following you around, asking you to put things down?”

Dustin grimaced, “I got a little caught up. It was a lot to take in.”

Mike asked, “So, does this mean I get to go?”

The idea of showing Mike his work space was elating to Will. There was that familiar feeling that Will had everytime he handed Mike his sketchbook or a new drawing. The hope of approval and praise for his art.

Will eagerly nodded, “Just don’t touch anything.”

Mike smirked at Dustin, who groaned, “That is SO not fair!”

“Sorry, Dustin.” Mike shrugged as he scooted out of the booth.

Dustin pouted, “Are you, though?”

“Well, not really that sorry.” He laughed, “I’ll be right back.” Mike excused himself to the bathroom.

Once he was out of earshot, Will looked over at Dustin.

He didn’t want to ruin the moment but he had to ask. “Is there a particular reason you got us all together?”

“Because Lucas is coming home.”

“He was home a year ago. We didn’t get together then.”

Dustin’s shoulders sank and he started fidgeting with his napkin. “You said it yourself. It’s been too long. It was an excuse for us to get together. And… well, it has been 10 years...”

“You say it like it’s some kind of anniversary.”

“I mean, it kind of is. You making it out of all that alive is something to celebrate.” Dustin said it genuinely, his heart in his words, “We watched what we thought was you, pulled from the quarry. We listened to you calling out for help. It affected all of us, Will.”

Will suddenly felt selfish. He’d seen this whole thing as some kind of elaborate pity party, but he hadn’t been the only one to suffer. He hadn’t been the only one to face that thing.

But a question still nagged at him, “Did you tell anyone… about the nightmares?”

Dustin tightened and looked guilty. “Just Mike… he….”

“Dustin you promised!”

“I know. I know. But I was worried, Will! I didn’t know what to do.”

“There is nothing for you to do. It’s something that I’m handling.”

His friend looked at him, anger tempered in his brow, “They’ve gotten worse. Don’t tell me they haven’t.”

Will’s fingers dug into his knees, his knuckles turning white. He felt humiliated. It was true. They had been getting worse. It wasn’t so bad when he had someone sleeping next to him, but on the nights he was alone? There was a 50/50 shot at waking up in a cold sweat. A few weeks ago, he had woken up with a yell in his throat and Dustin’s panicked face above him, trying to shake him awake.

‘Please… don’t tell anyone, Dustin. Please…”

But of course he did.

“Will, you don’t say when things aren’t okay. You shoulder them until something breaks. So, I made a judgement call. I didn’t want you to go through it this year alone. I wanted you to know that you have us. That we’re here.”

Will put his head in his hands, “But why did you have to tell Mike?”

“Because I didn’t know how to help. And it’s damn near impossible to get him out of Hawkins these days. But he’ll do it for you.”

His insides did a somersault. “That’s another thing, Dustin.”

“What?”

“Please, stop playing cupid with me and Mike.”

He was quiet, mumbling, “I wasn’t trying to before, at the house. I was just messing around.”

“I know but the jokes were hitting a little too close. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t want to dig up. It’s complicated between us and we need to figure that out ourselves.”

Dustin looked like a puppy getting scolded, “I gotcha. Sorry.”

Will added, “And, I swear to God if I ever hear the word ‘beefcake’ from out of your mouth, I am mailing your nudie mags to your mom.”

His eyes got wide, “You wouldn’t!”

Will rested his chin on his hands, “You really want to gamble on that?”

He held up his hands, “Fine. It is stricken from my vocabulary forever.”

Mike was making his way back over and Will tried to tuck everything back inside. Mike slid back into the booth. He pulled a small notepad from his back pocket and put it on the table.

“Okay. So what are we doing for costumes?”

And Will laughed. All of a sudden, the years melted away. He remembered how Mike would spend the remaining days of summer planning out their Halloween costumes, their trick or treat routes. The jubilant energy of new ideas spreading across his face, the excitement in his voice. It all came back. This time was precious. Their lives would undoubtedly fall back into their pattern before long. Lucas and Max would likely move back by her job in Silicon Valley. Mike would go back to Hawkins. Back to El. So, Will needed to hold onto every moment and make them last.

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 3 Part 5

The next part ! Hope you’ll like it.

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Sunday February 3

People often did things without a thought for the consequences. It was the very basics of mankind. And this scum-sucking Theo was very human right now. When the general assembly had ended yesterday, Damian Nicholas Simth-Carrey had felt something. A foreboding. He had called Deborah, a person he could trust. Then, he had waited. He had never felt so stressed. It had been so weird. So abnormal. My whole mind betrayed me. He had called Zack twice. Maybe more. Zero answer but it wasn't a surprise since it was the middle of the night were Zack lived. So he had waited in the best way he could. With sex. He had found a boy, and they had fucked until his phone had rung. The Dean's grandson had stopped everything at this very instant, despite having his cock in the man's butt. Deborah had explained the situation. What she had found. Theo had druged Liam, and had tried to abuse him. It wasn't good. At first, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey had been angry. More than he had ever been. The boy he was banging would probably never walk normally again. (But at least he had the best sex ever).

At dawn, the blond lad wanted to see Liam. However, he got a call from Zack, eventually. They talked, and Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey realised two things. First, everything was weird since he had met his now boyfriend. My body is against me. My mind is against me. I don't know what's going on. And in a way ? I like it. He hadn't corrupted Liam at all. He had been corrupted by Liam. And second, he felt as guilty as angry. What happened was partially his fault. Theo had done that only for the bet, for the hunt. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey had never felt guilt before. And he hated this feeling. It was bad. Really bad. He needed something to compensate. The blond lad masturbated with Zack voice, but it wasn't enough. I don't like it. I'm not myself anymore. I need to be fixed. And it came to his mind he could have revenge. Revenge would be good. Hell yeah, Theo'll pay for everything he did. Zack wouldn't agree, so Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey ended their conversation and left. At first, people often thought Theophile Meyers hadn't any weakness at all. But it wasn't true. We all have weakness. Theo had two. His overconfidence and a petite blonde.

"Laura, there you are." smiled the Dean's grandson. "What's up ?"

"Well, we didn't get what I hoped from Summer, but more than I rationally thought." she said. "So I guess it's good news. You want somethin' ?"

"You know what's going between Theo and I, aren't you ?"

"I am. But you are well aware I can't get involved. D.R.'s protecting me, remember ? I'm not an available prey."

"Laura. I know that. I won't ask you do to something you don't like. I know what you went through." he assured. "In truth, I wanted to know if you were okay ? It must be difficult for you. Is he harsh since he made the bet ?"

She lowered her eyes. Hell yes. I know how he works. And D.R. is going to punish him a way or another. But I want some fun too.

"Maybe I can do something about it." he whispered. "Shall we talk just the two of us sometimes ? Friday night ?"

"Okay." she agreed. "Thanks for being concerned."

Yeah, you bet I am.

It was almost noon. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey did his best to resist. After all, it was the perfect occasion to get rid of Liam and all those weird feelings. But he couldn't stand it. He showed up at his boyfriend's apartment, ashamed by his own weakness. I'm the best hunter. A predator. And still I feel the need to see him. This isn't good. The freshman welcomed him with a wide and innocent smile.

"Nick left for lunch." he said. "Apparently, he was craving for burgers. I'm not convinced it is helping when you're trying to lose weight but honestly, I'm not sure he really wants to lose the weight."

"Whatever you say."

The blond lad observed the surroundings. It was a typical man's flat. Dirty clothes in a corner, opened beer on the table, videos games and movies all over the floor...

"How are you feelin' since last night ?" he asked. "I got worried."

Damn. He didn't want to say the last part. He hadn't been really worried of course. Was I ?

"Honestly, I don't really remember what happened." confessed Liam. "I think I hallucinated the most part, with the ogre, the fairy, the dark train and the livin' baobab."

"Hum yes, I guess you did."

He's disturbed. Someone help please. I'm not supposed to find this delirium cute !

"So... you were really concerned about me ? It's sweet Dami."

Don't. Say. It's. Sweet. And again, he started to blush. They both did. It was a real disgrace. I hate my red cheeks. And yours. Who the hell I'm trying to fool ? I love this. I don't know anymore. He grabbed his boyfriend's hand, and kissed him softly.

"Of course I was." he declared, letting the words slip. "But the most important is that you're alright now. Whatever happen, I will find out and punish the.."

"Don't." cut off Liam. "It's no use."

You're talking like Zack. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey had already started his plan anyway. Break Theo's relationship with Laura and then drag his name trough the mud, it was now a matter of time.

"You want to do something for me ?" continued his boyfriend with a smile.

"Yeah ?"

"Feed me. I'm hungry."

Liam Tuesday February 5

When he woke up this morning, Liam felt something unsual. Is it... happiness ? It was. He stood up and greeted the unicorns. He was indeed entirely happy. Dami loved him. (He didn't say it, but he had been concerned ! It meant something). His father's lawyer would likely help his mother. And he was among the best students of his year group. With a smile, he headed towards the bathroom for a shower. His belly let out a slight gurgle. Liam stroke it gently. Since early january, and more exactly since he started to officially date Dami, he had gained around 1kg (2lbs). He knew it was only the begining, but it didn't bother him at all. He was doing swimming every two days, and even some workout. And I can allow myself some flab anyway. For now, only his stomach was a little soft at the touch, but it wasn't even noticeable. I should ask Dami what he's liking better. I'm okay if he wants me to gain some weight. Anyway, Liam was happy. It wasn't an usual thing. So he called Nate this minute. One bell, two... No answer. It's 12pm, he's normally at lunch. The lad tried again. Nothing. Of course. He couldn't be happy, could he ? The forces of evil had struck again. A bit worried, he asked the unicorn to share their power, and called again. I don't like it. He always answer immediately. Always. Nick entered in his room.

"What are you doing ?" he asked. "We have marcoeconomics in half an hour."

"Nate's in troubles. I think."

Liam the daydreamer disapeared for a moment. Liam the 8yo too. Even Liam the hero. They all let place to Nate's soulmate. (Yeah, sometimes Liam separated himself in several personnalities. Don't ask).

"He's not answering. Not texting. It's not like him to let me in the dark."

"Let me try."

Nothing. Nick frowned.

"Maybe he's busy with something. You know, there's plenty of reason for him to not..."

"I think he's dead."

Liam started to panic. He thought about all his option. He didn't own a car, and neither did Nick. They couldn't drive, but Dami could. As fast as possible, he called his boyfriend. When this one pick up, he almost yelled :

"You need to come ! We must go to Pavson's College ! I think my bestfriend is dying !"

And that was how they ended up, Dami and him, running towards Nate's university, on the other side of the country. Nick had assured he would take note during the lessons for Liam, and find an explanation for his absence. Dami had come with messy hair, only a polo and sweatpants. He was probably doing... things, but at least he had come. Now, the freshman was getting anxious, unable to do a single thing except call.

"There's still three more hours to go." mumbled his boyfriend. "Can you stop wriggle like this ?"

"Sorry. I can't stay quiet."

Dami grunted.

"I don't want you to damage my ferrari." he complained before continuing with a more reassuring tone. "He's fine. You're freakin' out for nothing."

Liam shook his head. He wanted to believe this. But he had this feeling compressing his chest. He was sweating, hot and stifling. I know there's a problem. Deep down, I know it.

"So this... Nate." whispered Dami after a moment. "Does he know about us ?"

"Yes. I'm telling him everything." confessed Liam. "And I can't hide a secret from him. He knows how to read me. Does it bother you ? You wanted to keep our relationship hidden ?"

"It's fine." replied his boyfriend. "I don't want everybody to know yet, but he's your bestfriend, so I guess it's okay. Did you tell to someone else ?"

He's more worried about it than I thought. Liam had a reasoning : Dami had slept with a lot of people in the campus. But maybe it never was as serious as they were. (After all, they didn't have sex, and the blond lad didn't seem eager to do it). (Thinking about it made Liam blush enough to look like a tomato). (It was so hot in here). So, maybe Dami intended to not shout it from the rooftops to avoid jealousy from his lovers. (And maybe he wanted to protect Liam ? This one loved the idea).

"Hey baboon, I asked you something." whinged his boyfriend.

"Uh, sorry. I was thinking about... stuff." justified Liam. "I only told Nate, but I think Nick figured it out. He's smart and he's my roommate so... you know. You said it to someone ?"

Dami frowned.

"To the only person who really matters to me." he replied after a while.

At his tone, the chestnut boy understood it wasn't the good time to talk about it.

It was dark when they arrived at Nate's flat. Liam got out of the car and ran inside. He strongly knocked at the door with fear. Nothing. He shouted his bestfriend's name, but no one answered.

"Maybe he's not here." whispered Dami. "We should check the university."

They did that. But Nate was nowhere to be found. He had completely disapeared. And Liam was starting to lose it. He had difficulty to breath. He had an headache.

"We're running for almost two hours." informed his boyfriend. "It's almost midnight. You need to rest a bit."

"I'm not tired. We continue to search."

"But where ? He's not in the campus nor his flat. You called his parents and they've no clue either."

"I don't know !" yelled Liam. "I don't know !"

Dami took a step back. He looked both afraid and angry. I'm sorry. Please, forget it. The freshman couldn't speak. He tried to inhale, but almost suffocated. Why there was so many problems ? So many troubles with him ? What was wrong ? He felt Dami's hand on his back. His boyfriend forced him to sit, and kissed him lengthily. Enough to make him calm down.

"I'll try something." he assured. "But first we're going to find an hotel, and you'll take some sleep. Inspite of what you're saying, you're just dead tired. Let me handle this from now on. Is that clear ?"

"Yes, okay... Thank you..."

"You fixed the conditions. When you call, I come. You're my priority number one for eveything."

Barbara Tuesday February 5 (at the same moment)

It was the most awkward diner she ever had. She expected Jessy to hit on Colton while this... Nick would be eating or whatever. But this latter had cancelled at the last minute, and her ex boyfriend had come with Leila. His twin sister. For a date. He's so clumsy. Now, they were eating in silent. At least Pasta's Place provided excellent plate. Barbara knew Colton loved it. Each time, he had made a mess of himself. And he wasn't contravening to the rule right now.

"So. Jessica right ?" smiled Leila. "What kind of studies are you doing ?"

"I'm gonna be an hairdresser."

My god, you dummy. Don't say this, it make you look idiot. Barbara took a mouthful of her own plate, and glared at Leila. This one grinned.

"You said you were from the same highshool than Barb ? Where this Muller was ?"

"Raphaël ?" praised Jessy. "Yeah, a true hottie. And a fuckin' leader. He took away two boyfriend from me."

You're making a fool of yourself... Colton finished his second plate. When you saw him like that, you wouldn't say he was a messy eater. He was so thin, so muscled. But in truth, when he liked something, he could devour some impressive amount. Barbara had always felt repulsed by it.

"Those pasta are a gift from above." he whispered with a light belch. "I'll ask Judy for another helping. Someone is interested ?"

They all declined. He stood up, a hand on his bloated stomach, and went to find the waitress. Leila waited a moment, and when he couldn't hear them, she threathened :

"Don't ever approach him again with a random average girl. My brother deserves better."

"Hey, how can you..."

"Shut up Jessy." cut off Barbara. "Listen to me Leila, I'm only looking for his happiness but since you don't want my help, fine. After all you're right, I'm too busy for this crap. But when I'll be the queen of this college, don't dare come back to me."

Latter this evening, when everyone in her apartment was asleep, Barbara left for the stadium. She met there her partner Roberto. He was an idiot to whom she had promised a place in the student union if he helped her. People like him were the easiest to manipulate. She had met him at the beginning of the year. He was her private tutor for economics lessons. They grew up closer, and she could say he was in love. That's why he's ready to do everything I ask for.

"You'll need to take action again." she demanded. "Degrade the science building wasn't enough, people don't care about it. Those nerds of the sciences club are useless."

"What do you want me to do ?"

"Listen carefully. You'll damage the football facilities. All the student'll heard about it. Then, we'll charge our spacegoat. Is he still oblivious ?"

"Yes. How would he know anyway ? I already put some accusing evidence in his flat when I did my last tutoring."

"Nice. Good luck Roberto. See you soon."

When she went back to her flat, she bumped into Brandon, her roommate. The guy was taking a midnight snack apparently. He was tall and lanky, a bit scary. He had a scar on his forehead, which he tried to hide under his black hair. I'm not afraid of him but...

"It's past midnight." he said. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Well, I had a... date. But you were in your room, I guess you didn't hear me go out."

A little lie; but Brandon didn't know her at all, he would believe it. In fact, he just finished his cookie.

"Whatever." he muttered. "Good night."

And he went back in his room. Such an asocial. It was better like this anyway.

To be continued

Annnd here we’re, one of the major topic of chapter 3 is starting with Nate and Liam in the main roles ! What is happening ? You’ll know that soon...

The two idiots are definitely in loves. I mean, Damian is like a teenager who has a big fat crush. An angry, resentful and very vulgar teenager with yandere tendencies. And Liam... Well Liam is wondering how much weight he must put on to please his boyfriend. Cute ;)

As for Barbara well... She’s plotting in the shadows again.

[artificialqueens]

Merry Christmas, Baby, You Sure Do Treat Me Nice (Pearlet) - Sammy Indigo

A/N: Puppies. It’s Pearlet with a puppy. At Christmas. That’s it.

Working in a bar meant that Matt often found himself walking home in the dark and cold early hours, and in order to make it home to Jason faster, he snuck through the alleyways on the backs of buildings that would be long closed for the evening.

Jason hated it. They had friends who had been attacked and intimidated, in similar situations, and the thought of Matt walking home alone in the dark winding passageways, away from any civilisation, kept him awake until he heard his boyfriend’s key in the front door of their apartment.

It was worse in the winter. The dark nights were longer, the air colder, and some nights Jason felt like he couldn’t cope. The anxiety ate at him as he waited up, curled on the couch with blankets covering him as he shivered, watching late night infomercials, trying to take his mind away from his worry about Matt.

It was a Sunday night when Matt was late coming home. Technically a Monday morning. It had been snowing steadily for a few hours, and the air outside was foggy. The club closed up at two, and was locked up around two thirty, Matt home and safe by three. But it was three thirty-seven, and Jason was feeling sick as he paced the living room.

Matt wasn’t answering his phone. It was going straight to voicemail. If he wasn’t dead already, Jason was going to kill him.

And then the key jangled against the lock. He struggled with the lock for a couple of seconds, keys clacking against their door. Jason heard him swear from the other side.

When the door swung open, and Jason ran towards Matt (whether to kiss or kill him, he hadn’t decided), it took a second for him to register that Matt had something in one arm, tucked into his coat. The thing moved of its own volition and Jason stopped in his tracks. The thing’s head poked out.

“What the fuck is that?” Jason asked, already knowing the answer.

Matt grinned. “I found a puppy.” He pulled back his collar to fully reveal the little dirty pest. “He’s so adorable. And he was all alone in the snow.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I thought you were dead, you jerk. You didn’t answer your phone.”

Matt had the decency to look sheepish. “It died at the club.”

“You will, too, if you ever fucking do that to me, again.”

“I’m sorry.” He held out the puppy, as though it were a peace offering.

Jason took a step back, grimacing. “Put it in the bathroom and close the door. That shelter on third probably opens at like seven or eight. We’ll drop it there in the morning.”

Horrified, Matt tucked the puppy back under his coat. “No.” He said. “Jay, he followed me. I rescued him.”

“We are not keeping that thing in our house.” Jason said. “It’s probably got rabies. Or scurvy, or something.”

“Scurvy is what pirates get.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Matthew.” Jason snapped. “Just know, that I won’t have that damn dog living in my house. Got it?”

Matt pouted.

……………..

Four weeks, three trips to the vets, and four hundred dollars later, and the puppy was still in the apartment.

It squeaked at Jason’s feet as he tried to do their dishes. He looked down at it. The fluffy white fur around its face was flat on one side from where it had been napping under their kitchen table, just minutes before. It yawned and stretched its short legs.

Jason waited for it to look up at him. “I don’t like you.” He said.

It tried to tug on the bottom of his jeans, and Jason hissed at it. The puppy whined and backed away with its tail between its legs.

“Okay,” Matt said, walking into the room and scooping up the dog, “I get that he’s not your favourite thing, but you’re not actually a cat, Jay.” He nuzzled the puppy’s head. “You don’t have to hiss at him.”

“It’s a menace.”

“He.” Matt said. “And he’s not. He’s just a puppy. Aren’t ya, Snowball?”

Jason groaned. “Snowball? You named it?”

“Yeah, it’s cute, right.” Matt cuddled the puppy close. It licked his face. “’Cause I found him in the snow, and he’s white. Like a ‘lil snowball.”

“Oh, God.” Jason threw his pink rubber gloves into the sink. “Does this mean you’re attached to it? You named it, and now you’re attached to it?”

Matt held Snowball up to his face. “He’s my baby.”

“Fuck’s sake, Matthew. You’re a grown man.”

……………….

  Snowball peed on the carpet.

And chewed holes in Jason’s shoes.

He cried through the night and woke them up at three am.

He left his toys in the middle of the room for Jason to trip over.

And he took all Matt’s attention by just sitting there, acting cute. That was supposed to be Jason’s job.

Plus, he was expensive.

It was the holiday season, and everything seemed to be more expensive. Even their rent had increased as their lease renewed, and Jason and Matt had had to sit down with a calculator, and papers spread across the coffee table, to work out their finances. Jason felt guilty. Matt was having to pick up the slack, working at the club five nights a week, and then picking up a seasonal job as a delivery person during the day. He was exhausted, and Jason felt like shit when their friends asked if he was still on the sick from his job.

When he voiced this, Matt told him to shut up. That his mental health was worth more than any money he would be bringing home from a dead end job that was detrimental to him. Matt was an angel, but Jason couldn’t help but feel inadequate sometimes.

“Please don’t forget to walk Snowball.” Matt said as he pulled his jacket over his hoodie. “Otherwise you’ll be cleaning up pee, again.”

Jason sighed. “It’s fucking freezing. Can’t he walk himself?”

Matt glared at him. “Please?” He said, walking over to Jason on the couch. He leaned over the back of it, wrapping both arms around Jason’s shoulders and hugging him. “Please try and be nice to the dog? Just try, and I’m sure you’ll grow to love him.”

Jason twisted his face into a grimace. “I don’t love anything except you and pizza rolls.”

Matt kissed his cheek. “Be nice to Snowball.” He kissed him again. “And I’ll be back later. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I guess.”

Matt stuck his tongue out at him as he grabbed his bag and walked over to the door. Snowball trotted behind him, yapping and trying to jump up Matt’s legs.

“Bye bye, baby.” He cooed. “You gotta stay here and Daddy’s gotta go to work now-,”

“No.”

“-so I’ll see you when I get home.” He petted Snowball’s tiny head. “And Dada Jay-,”

“Absolutely not!”

“-is gonna walk you.” Matt stood up straight and blew Jason a kiss. “Love you, Dada.” He laughed.

Jason glared at him as the door closed.

Snowball sat down, face almost pressed against the closed front door, and waited. He whined for a few minutes, but upon realising Matt was not due to return anytime soon, he quieted, though remained at his guard of the door.

“Dumb dog.” Jason muttered on his way through to the bedroom.

………………….

It was over two hours later when Jason was awoken from an unintentional nap by his phone vibrating very close to his face. He cracked open an eye and quickly closed it again at the bright assault from his screen. A minute later, it buzzed for a second time as a reminder for the unread notification.

Jason resigned himself to properly checking it this time, and smiled when he saw the first line of a message from Matt.

Love you baby, don’t forget that

Jason smirked. Matt was such a softie. He made the effort to sit up on the bed and open the message, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The rest of the message popped up and Jason pursed his lips.

Love you baby, don’t forget that

you need to walk Snowball.

Jason typed out a message back.

Fuck off.

Not a minute later, and Matt responded with his own message, followed by a string of heart-eye emoticon faces.

Walk the dog, Jay. Love you, both.

Out of sheer pettiness, Jason chose not to respond.

In the living room, the stupid dog was still waiting by the front door. As Jason walked in, Snowball’s head perked up, and he watched him move around the room, remaining in his position by the door.

“Apparently,” Jason said, rooting around in the pile of laundry on their chair for a sweater, “you need to be walked.”

The dog jumped to his feet and began pacing in front of the door. Jason pulled the sweater over his head.

“You know what that means?” He asked.

Snowball whined.

“Walk?” Jason said, and the dog scratched at the door. “Huh. Didn’t know you could understand me.” He pulled on his scarf and coat. “Mattie got you a leash. Where does he keep it?”

The question wasn’t necessarily posed a the dog, just a rhetorical one aimed at the air, but when Jason began wandering around their kitchen, looking for the leash, Snowball made a beeline for the cabinet under their sink. He butted his head against the cabinet door, crying.

The leash, was in the bottom of the cupboard, obviously having been thrown there by Matt after his walk early in the morning. Jason looked down at the fluff at his feet.

“Let’s get this over with.”

  …………..

  The dog had pooped, and Jason was still mad he had had to pick it up, but aside from the trauma of that, and the fact that it was colder than a witch’s tit outside, the walk had gone without issue. To himself, Jason had to admit, he hadn’t actually hated walking Snowball. He had ended up being stopped on four separate occasions during their small excursion, simply because people wanted to pet Snowball. When they told Jason how cute the puppy was and how well behaved he was, he had felt a sense of pride that he had no right to.

Maybe, Jason had enjoyed it a little bit. But that was just because he was an attention whore.

He told Matt it was awful and he hated every second of it.

But he walked Snowball again the next day when Matt asked.

And the next day, when he asked.

And the next day when he didn’t ask.

And the next.

And the one after that.

Until it was Matt’s day off from his daytime job, and somehow they ended up walking him together.

“So, I was thinking we could maybe order take out and snuggle?” Matt said, pulling slightly on he and Jason’s linked arms as they walked. “I know it’s not super Christmassy, but-,”

“No, that sounds lovely.” Jason smiled. “I mean, it’s just another day, really? Christmas is just for the kids. That’s what my dad used to say.”

Matt pulled a little at Snowball’s leash as the puppy strayed too close to the roadside. “I guess. But I still want to go see the Christmas lights tonight.”

“Are we bringing the dog? It might be too long for him to walk. We’ll have to carry him.”

“Uh,” Matt gave him a peculiar look, “I assumed you’d want to leave him at home?”

Jason bristled. “Well, obviously. I just thought that you’d want to bring him. And I can’t be bothered with arguing.”

“Okay.” Matt smirked. “Well, we don’t have to bring him.”

“No, no.” Jason said, looking down as the dog trotted by his feet. “We’ll bring him if you insist.”

“Well, I wasn’t insisting, but okay.” Matt made to turn a corner and go down a side street, but Jason put a hand on his arm.

“No, Snowball likes going this way better.” He said, pulling him across the road.

Smiling, Matt followed him. “Okay, then. If you insist.”

  ………………..

  They went to the Christmas market to look at the lights, and half an hour in, Snowball began lagging behind them. Matt picked him up and put him inside his jacket and within ten minutes he was sound asleep against his chest.

“How big do you think he’ll get?” Jason asked. “You think you’ll be able to carry him in your coat for much longer?”

“He’s got kinda small paws.”

“What?”

“Like, if puppies have big paws they say they’ll be big dogs, but he has small paws.”

Jason slowed their walk as something on a stall caught his eye. “I hope he stays small.”

“Why? You gonna get a handbag to put him in?” Matt laughed.

The little stall next to them held Jason’s attention enough that he didn’t respond to Matt. A young woman behind the small craft table her wares were displayed on, waved, and Jason walked over. Matt trailed behind him, and amused smirk on his face once he realised what the lady was selling. He brushed a gloved hand over Snowball’s fur and whispered in his fluffy ear. “Your Dada’s going soft.”

“Hi.” The woman said. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” Jason replied, distractedly, looking over the various things on the table.

“I’m Adore. Everything on the table is handmade by me, and all individually priced. All safe for your fur babies. ”

“Cool.”

She looked at Matt, smiled, then spotted Snowball in his jacket and beamed. “Oh, cute!” Adore pointed to the dog. “Adorable. How old? And what’s their name? Oh! How long have you had them?”

Matt grinned. He stepped forward beside Jason and wrapped an arm around him. “Snowball.” He said and Adore squeaked. “He’s a few months old we think but not one hundred per cent sure. I found him in an alley.”

“Oh!” Adore looked heartbroken. “A rescue.” She perked herself up and smiled again. “But how wonderful he has his fur-ever home.”

Jason looked up at her. “Actually, he’s a temporary guest.”

“No he’s not.” Matt said.

“He would be if it were down to me.” Jason said.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Sure, Jan.”

Jason smacked his arm. “We best be going.” He nodded at Adore. “But, erm, you have cute stuff here, I guess.”

“Thank you.” Adore grinned. “Here.” She handed Jason a card. Taped to it was a tiny packet with two little biscuits in. “I make things custom, and I’m a just a pretty cool person. And those are puppy-safe treats.”

“Thanks.” Jason said. “Er, see you around.”

As they walked away, Adore called after them.

“Don’t forget! Puppies need presents off Santa, too! Unless you’re Jewish. But I make cool stuff for every religion! Call me!” She waved. “Bye Snowball. I love you!”

Matt turned to Jason. “I bet she’s so much fun to smoke with. We should invite her to New Years.”

“We don’t even know her.” Jason said, opening the little packet of dog treats.

“But I want to.”

“I kind of do, too.” He inspected one of the homemade biscuits, then held it close to Snowball’s face. “She had micro-braids, and somehow was pulling them off.”

Snowballs nose twitched, and he opened his eyes. He licked the treat once, then nipped it out of Jason’s hand, crunching it and dropping crumbs inside of Matt’s coat. He snuffled in the jacket, trying to vacuum up the dropped morsels.

“She must make good treats.” Matt said.

Jason nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced back over to Adore’s stall. “Hey, listen, you go on. I’ll meet you by the cheese stand. I, erm, I have to go do something.”

“Do what?”

“Nothing.” He snapped. “Just, something. I’ll be like five minutes.”

Matt watched, as Jason not so subtly took the long route around to Adore’s stall. Matt walked towards the cheese stand, speaking to Snowball under his breath. “Why Dada can’t just admit he likes you, is baffling to me.”

  ………………

  On Christmas day, Matt kissed Jason awake at four am, wished him a ‘Merry Christmas’, and left to go to work. Snowball was still asleep when he left, and Matt chose not to tease Jason about the fact that the dog had slept all night curled into the space behind where Jason’s knees bent.

The day was long, and cold, and hard, but in the early afternoon Matt was all done for the day, and excited to get back home. He picked up food to share with Jason, and stopped at the corner store for a couple of bottles of cheap red wine for them to get drunk off of.

He struggled with his keys, but quickly got the door unlocked, and slowly opened it with the expectation that Snowball would be waiting on the other side. However, the dog did not, as he usually did, greet him by chirping at his feet until Matt showered him with attention. A part of Matt was a little disappointed in the lack of fuss made at his arrival home, until he caught sight of his boyfriend asleep on the couch with their dog on his chest.

Matt closed the door and put down his bags.

His family was fucking cute.

Jason opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at Matt. “Hey,” he held out his hands, “baby, come snuggle me. It’s Christmas.”

Snowball snored on Jason’s chest. Matt had to bite his lip. The dog was wearing a knitted Christmas sweater.

He walked over and sat himself on the floor in front of Jason, leaning up on his knees to kiss him slowly. “I love you.” He said. “Merry Christmas, Jay, I love you.”

“I love you, Mattie.”

Matt rubbed his nose against his cheek. “Where did the dog get a sweater from?”

Jason kissed him again, putting a hand on his cheek and rubbing Matt’s ear. “Mmm, I love you, baby.”

“Love you. Where did the dog get a sweater?”

Snowball, awoke, climbing over Jason to get to Matt. He shook and the sweater slipped to the side. Jason fixed it.

“You love him.” Matt teased, picking up Snowball. “You bought him a sweater because you love him.”

“I don’t love him.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. I just was concerned he’d be cold.”

“You love him. You love our dog.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nope.”

“Oh, yes.” Matt grinned. Snowball tired to lick at Jason’s cheek from his place in Matt’s arms. “He loves you and you love him, and that’s okay.”

Jason said nothing, and Matt took that as a victory.

“I love you.” Matt said. He put Snowball back on Jason’s lap and the dog curled up. “I fucking love you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason blushed, “I love you, too.”

“And our puppy?”

Jason tugged at the tiny knitted sweater on the dog, and smiled. “Maybe a little.”

[sarasapen]

A Man is what his Mother makes him.

“Let me love you a little more before you are not little anymore.”

“...she had loved a little boy very very much, even more than she loved herself.”

(Y/N) (L/N) was 19 when she married Bruce Wayne. She was 19 when she married the most famous man in the world. She was 19 when she married Batman.

(Y/N) was 22 when they adopted 9-year-old Richard Grayson. He was a sweet little angel that she was grateful to have, for she couldn’t have children of her own. She knew straight away that those bright blue eyes and tiny hands had already stolen her heart.

A few weeks after Dick moved in, you awoke with a strange feeling. In a sleepy daze, you threw off her covers and stumbled to Dick’s room.

You opened the door and your heart ached at what you saw. The poor thing was sobbing into his pillow, calling for his Mum and Dad. 

You sat down next to him and pulled him into your lap, rocking him and humming soothing tunes. You let him cry until he fell asleep, and even then, you continued to rock him though the night.

“No.”

“But, Mum, I’ll be safe!” Dick protested.

You faltered when he called you ‘Mum’, and bent down to squeeze him tightly. After a few minutes of hugging him, you let him go saying that, fine, he could go, as long as he stayed safe. 

And thus, Robin, the Boy Wonder was born.

Okay, children were something else altogether. 

They were at a gala when Dick wanted Bruce’s attention. So, like any other person would do, he ‘pssd’ and motioned for Bruce to bend down while you and the other adults pretended you couldn’t see him. He wanted ice-cream, and asked for extra sprinkles. 

Later, however, after his sugar rush disappeared, Bruce had to carry him as he slept on his shoulder.

A photo of Bruce carrying Dick with you petting his hair made the front cover the next morning.

You couldn’t sleep so you went downstairs to bake cookies. You don’t know what happened, but suddenly there was Dick sitting on a stool, ‘sampling’ the cookie dough. This became a weekly tradition, and every Saturday morning, you and Dick would bake something. 

Alfred was sweet enough to  lay out the main ingredients you would need, and at 6 a.m. in the morning, the smell of delicious baked goods wafted through the manor.

You walked through the same hallway you had for 12 years, and it felt so different.

With Dick now in Bludhaven, the house felt so empty and cold. You paused in front of Dick’s room, hesitating before you went in. You inspected the room, and it felt so wrong to see so many of his possessions gone. 

Tears stung at the back of yours eyes and you sighed. You felt silly for crying, he was only in the next city. 

But you would miss his cheeky grin and his silly antics and- god what was wrong with you?

You missed your boy, and it was okay to do so. You didn’t know growing up would hurt so much.

A couple of months later, (Y/N) found a 14-year-old boy tied up and gagged on the floor in the Batcave.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, bending down to untie him as he glared up at you.

“Bruce, what is this?” You exclaimed, untying the gag.

“He kidnapped me!” The child said as you stared at Bruce incredulously.

“This is the child that tried to steal the tires. Hi name is Jason Todd.” Bruce said as he took off his cowl.

“And are we keeping him?” You asked, ignoring the child’s protests. Bruce looked at the teenager, crossing his arms and then at your hopeful eyes.

“Yes.”

When someone looked at Jason Todd, they would never guess that his biggest weakness was that he was a total Mama’s boy.

Jason loved those moments his ‘Ma’ would kiss his head after returning from work, and the way you would run your hand through his hair as you watched tv, or the way you would let him cuddle you as you read a book.

So your tradition with Jason was born. You would both curl up in some blankets, some hot chocolate and cookies nearby, reading. He would sometimes ask you to read, so that he could fall asleep next to you. You adored Jason, and cherished these moments with him. When he would fall asleep, you would close the book, moving so that Jason slept at a better angle. That last night, you smiled at his sleeping form, and thanked the lord for these miracles of yours.

He was only 15.

You remembered that is was April 27.

You also remembered Bruce coming home, bloody and broken and bruised and alone.

You remembered how the world stopped spinning suddenly, and it felt as if your head was underwater. It felt as if there were 1000 tons on your chest, about to crush it.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t think and it hurt.

You vaguely remembered falling, but someone- perhaps Alfred or DIck, who had suddenly appeared- caught you.

You remembered screaming and screaming until you lost your voice, and you cried and cried until you passed out. 

He was your baby, he was your life, he was your son.

And he was gone.

After Jason’s death, you slipped into a depression. You locked yourself in his room, refusing to come out for over three days until Dick had to climb through the window to make you eat. You refused to speak to anyone, and never left the manor. Bruce never went near you.

Dick moved back into the manor to help Alfred take care of you.

Sometimes, he would see you sitting in the garden, an empty look in your eyes as you stared at nothing.

It scared him so much, that the strongest woman he knew, the most amazing mother, was destroyed. 

You were broken, you were a walking corpse wit no more purpose to live.

Thats where the scars on your wrists came from.

You went into the bathroom, a picture of Jason in your lap as you whispered to him that

“Your Ma is coming to you, baby.”

Dick found you, pale, and nearly dead, sitting in a pool of blood. He rushed you to the hospital and you were there for over a week.

You were broken, and you couldn’t be fixed. 

About a year after Jason, Bruce bought him another boy, only 13.

You screamed and screamed and Bruce because he was absolutely crazy if he thought that you would let another boy go into danger, and you’d be damned if you allowed it. You yelled at him as Alfred gave the boy some food, and you started crying, because fuck, it hurt, and you missed Jason, and, fuck, Bruce, I can't do this alone.

He hugged you as you both cried, mourning your son together. Then you wiped your tears and went upstairs to the new boy under you roof. You swore that you would protect him, and you started going on patrols from that day on.

Your tradition with Tim started straight away. That day, both of you were playing video games, and eating chips and soft drinks and being overall unhealthy. That’s what you would do on the weekends after he did his homework. 

Tim loved when you made him coffee. You and Alfred were both strongly against his high coffee intake, so he had to brew it himself. But on those very rare occasions you made coffee for him, you would make it perfectly. He loved the way you made it, and a sip from your coffee was all he needed to go along his day.

Tim wasn’t happy. 

Bruce just brought home an 11-year-old who was his son.

Which meant that Tim was no longer the baby. He didn’t really want to make friends, which was great because neither did Damian.

“I can relate.” Dick chirped as he watched Tim’s scowling form. You looked up at him, confused.

“When Bruce brought home... Jason,” he said the name slowly, and the three boys noticed you flinch.

“You didn’t like him?” You asked, blinking back tears.

“No, it wasn’t that,” Dick chuckled. “It just... he never asked, ya know? It’s like he found a replacement for me. And it kinda sucked.” Dick told you and you looked at Tim and Damian who were having a glowering contest.

“I’m sorry.” You suddenly sobbed, covering your face. Tim shot up, dashing towards you as your body shook.

Dick hugged you as you cried.

“I could never replace you, okay? Never!” You hugged Tim, crying even more. Damian was confused, watching your sobbing form. He didn’t understand why Dick and Tim were so upset by your crying. Talia had described you as a bitch, and yet, as he saw the way you held your boys, he felt that maybe Talia was wrong.

Your tradition with Damian was originally just your Sunday programme.

You would binge watch tv shows like Sherlock or Game of Thrones or Downton Abbey, and suddenly there was a little boy curled up on the opposite couch, watching with you. That’s how you spent your Sundays, watching period dramas.

Damian would crawl into your bed during a thunderstorm. He was afraid of the thunder, and would cuddle up with you or Bruce at night. He said he’d rather with Bruce, but he, like Jason, was a Mama’s boy. He secretly loved when you’d cuddle him and hug him like there was nothing that could take him away from you.

Both he and Tim had noticed, though, that your smile never quite reached you eyes, and that everyday you would disappear for hours at a time, locking yourself in Jason’s room. They knew you how much it affected you, and they tried to make sure you were always happy, and that you never missed Jason.

But how could a mother not miss her child?

You were trembling, scared to go closer, scared to speak, scared to breathe lest he disappear.

He was older, more mature, and even had a white streak in his hair. 

But you still recognised him. You’d always recognise your baby.

“Jason?” Your voice cracked and he flinched. He looked up, meeting your eyes. He noticed how much older you looked. His gaze stopped at the scars on your wrists, and he felt guilty.

“Hey, Ma.” He muttered.

You hugged him, pulling him into you as you sobbed.

And then suddenly, you felt well, you felt whole. You felt perfect, not healed, because it was as if there was never a wound to begin with.

You pulled back and gazed at him lovingly, your thumb dancing along his cheek.

“Look at you.” You whispered, kissing his forehead.

“You’re all grown up...” 

You laughed, the most genuine laugh your children had heard from you in years, hugging him tightly.  He tightened his grip on you, trying to blink back his own tears.

“Oh, Jaybird... I’ve missed you so much.” You whispered as he cried.

“Ma...” 

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, Mama’s got you.” You hummed, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you so much, baby.”

It was a few months before Jason stopped being so hostile towards the younger boys.

When Bruce came home at night, he was surprised to see you sleep on your shared bed.

With four black haired boys all curled up around you. Your arms were around Jason, and the other three had managed to slot themselves into any empty spaces they could find, which meant that Damian was on top of you.

With a smile, Bruce quietly slid into the mostly empty side near Jason, managing to wriggle his arms around you, pulling you all into his chest.

A chorus of sleepy groans were heard, which was answered by a laugh from Bruce who then kissed your forehead. Damian moved to climb onto of Bruce as Tim moved on top of you. 

You hummed a soothing tune as all five of your boys fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

[officialmollymauktealeaf]

I always like hearing about OCs, so could you do a playlist for Bladen or Oz (or maybe one you haven't talked about as much)?

A new challenger approaches after seven years! And for taking so long I’d like to make up for it by explaining my reasoning behind each song. They’ll be in no particular order and McFucking extensive in the lyric explanation I am so sorry (Like this shit is really fucking long and it’s best to just look at the titles and yeet) 

1. Hey Look Ma, I Made It by Panic! At The DiscoThis song is honestly just… taken as fucking spitefully as possible. His mother abandoned him and here he fucking is? A loving partner and three beautiful, strong children who he will go to his grave defending and swearing they are all destined for greatness. 

Are you ready for the sequel? (I take this as him talking about his boys)I’m gonna be the greatest (Bladen’s thirst for power)

And if you never know who you can trustThen trust me, you’ll be lonely, oh (Referring to those childhood years where everyone except his foster father was an enemy)

2. Boy in The Bubble by Alec Benjamin This song is for his foster dad. Bladen was technically a sheltered child with no real connections except for that man who greatly worried for him. It reminds me of him because Bladen never wanted fights but even knowing what the results could be 

Punch my face, do it ‘cause I like the pain (Reminds him he’s alive)Every time you curse my nameI know you want the satisfaction, it’s not gonna happen (Bladen is nothing if not prideful. He knew what the kids wanted and he refused)Come the lightning and the thunderYou’re the one who’ll suffer, suffer (He always knew that the one that would regret it most are the people making life hell for him)

3. IMNOTYOURBOYFRIENDBABY by 3OH!3It’s half a joke song? He’s a horny son of a bitch I’ll be honest he’ll fuck almost anything that moves but miss him with that commitment bullshit. But there’s a verse that makes it less of a joke 

Kill the lightsThese children learn from cigarette burns Fast cars, fast women and cheap drinksIt feels right  All these asphyxiated, self-medicatedTake the white pill, you’ll feel alright (He’s learned that experience is the best teacher, regardless of how harmful it is in the end)

4. Unheavenly Creatures by Coheed and CambriaI’m gonna keep it real with you, chief. This playlist? Half of it is about how fucking much he loves his partner. He lives and breathes for her and if she fucking told him to die for her he would. 

We were young and had it all figured outShe was the quiet one and I had the mouthUntil she fell to me We escaped through the alley in the back Judge told me, “creature, don’t you dare go back!”But I couldn’t dodge the ringing in my headThe lonely, subtle voice, through the echoes as it said“Please don’t leave me here, my love”(Like I mentioned in the backstory, he had a plan and so did she. But then they really just forgot the plan, ran away, and decided all they needed was each other. He really still does feel guilty for taking her away from that life of luxury and, as he would say, dooming her into raising children [not that she ever minded? She loves them all so much])

There was something I forgot to tell her thenBetween the kiss and “knock 'em dead, kid”“There will be no other like you” (I don’t know what to tell you man he just fucking loves her and feels like he doesn’t tell her enough? As years go by he starts panicking about how he’ll outlive her. Every wrinkle on her face is a reminder that he’ll lose her)

5. As The World Falls Down by David BowieI fucking told you bro he just loves her. Side note: this cover? Fucking superb holy shit

As the pain sweeps through,Makes no sense for youEvery thrill is goneWasn’t too much fun at all,But I’ll be there for youAs the world falls down (He feels guilty about what she had to go through, being a vessel and all and now seeing her children carry that same risk because of his dumb choices and how he blindly sought out power. It’s not until years later that he realizes how much of a mistake it was and all he can promise her is being there for her through it all) 

6. Saint Bernard by Lincoln Tell me where I came from, what I will always be:Just a spoiled little kid who went to Catholic school (He really is just a brat and while not catholic, he was part of a faith and that cult will forever be a part of him) When I am dead, I won’t join their ranksBecause they are both holy and free (This part is referring to his first cult because at one point he lost the faith he had in their deity, the deity that left the cult free in a sense due to them having something to live for)And I’m in Ohio, satanic and chained upAnd until the end, that’s how it’ll be (He’s the polar opposite of the cult, his chains are exactly that. The difference he bears from them and it’s a secret he’ll carry until he either dies or gets caught which could easily be the same)

7. Take Me Dancing by Will Joseph Cook Surprise! Another song about him loving her partner. This is an early days song, back when he was trying to win her over 

And as I fall into the bottle bank [broken glass] You can make me into anythingAs long as I’m reflecting you (Bladen always saw the good in her. If him being broken by her meant he’d be reshaped into anything even remotely similar to her he wouldn’t have cared) 

Don’t let this loveWell I could be the answer toAll of your prayersTake me dancing (Once he really started to fall for her, since that day one, all he ever wanted was for her to give him a spin)

8. Save My Soul by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy Man this is one of the quintessential Bladen songs in my book. The rhythm, the words, and just the general aura of it 

I consider myself lucky to have fallen in loveWith a girl, the city and the river of mud (He of course means Lilith and the place they’ve been hiding/living at) 

Let me knowWhere I can go to save my soul (That deal with a devil eventually started to eat at him and he just wants redemption)I’ve heard Gabriel singin’ & playin’ his hornAnd lived to see the day both my babies were born (Rapture is always close behind him, or at least he feels like. His one consolation are his children and how they’ll carry out that legacy of his)

9. I’m Not a Saint by Billy Raffoul This one really fucks me up for him? This one is for when he’s entering those early thirties, seeing the real impact of all he’s done and just… reflecting to his best extent. 

Had the taste of one too many lips hanging of my tongue, oh, oh (He’s had way too many partners, not that him or Lilith mind, but those lips brought some unforeseen responsibilities (more kids than he knows what to do with))  Sunday morning getting high, drinking here alone (Alone being what he’s now afraid of)Thinking up a brand new alibi for not coming home, oh, oh (He tends to disappear more than he should) And I’m sorry I lie so much (It’s all he knows how to do but he really is sorry) 

Lord knows I don’t learn from mistakesAnd I’m not here unless I’m here by your sideI’m not a saint, but I could be if I tried (He starts to realize a lot near this age and all he wants to do is try. For her and for his children. They’re no longer some experiments in a cold search for power. They’re part of his life and he’s ready to dedicate himself to them but at this point it’s more than too late.) 

10. Came Out Swinging by The Wonder Years This was one of the first songs I ever considered for him, tbh? It’s just such an optimistic song with the right amount of sad. This one is a mix of his early days and him nearing an older age

I’m running on empty The late nights and the long drives start to get to meI’m just so tired. (He’s been running around for a while. Oz is Lord knows where at the danger of being possessed at any moment, Mordei hates him and refuses to acknowledge him at this point, and his eldest has adopted their last name as their first name and is undead) I spent this year as a ghost and I’m not sure what I’m looking for. (This is in his youth, him just… searching)

I spent this year as a ghost and I’m not sure where home is anymore (Once again in his youth where lines started to blur) 

My body feels rejected and I can’t say that I blame itMy heart keeps saying stay youngMy lower back seems to disagree (The contract was too keep him looking young, never aging so at later years it really takes a toll on him. He stops feeling like himself at some point and his body becomes more of an accessory)

And I spent the winter writing songs about getting betterAnd if I’m being honest, I’m getting there (This is a mid point in his life, this is after realizing how much he actually needs to try) 

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Something Old and Something New - Chapter 4: Eat of This Bread and Drink of This Cup

“All right BJ. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Peg sets the plate of breakfast and mug of coffee on the table with deliberate care. And she's whispering – but that doesn't keep BJ's head from feeling like a freight train's running through it. He hasn't been this hungover in... well, a while, anyway.

All he can do in answer is groan pitifully.

“Not that I'm not sympathetic-” Peg says, with emphasis, though still at a whisper. BJ's head rings. “-but I'm going to need more of an answer than that.”

“Please, honey, can we talk about this later.” Like when he's alive.

Peg looks at him sharply, assessing whether her husband's being honest or not. He's weaseled his way out of conversations about this before, after all. But he just looks so pitiful right now.

“All right, dear. But we are talking about this.”

He groans in a way that must sound affirmative because Peg heads towards the living room. The sound of her heels on the linoleum crack like gunshots against the inside of BJ's skull and he lets his head fall into the cradle of his folded arms. He's in big fucking trouble and too hungover to think of a way to sweet talk himself out of it.

But he should at least make sure he's capable of human speech for this discussion. BJ shovels a forkfull of eggs into his mouth and even chewing hurts but he feels better after several cups of coffee and an aspirin. And a shower helps even more – the water hot enough he looks like a boiled lobster afterwards but he's able to look his reflection in the eye as he brushes his teeth.

BJ doesn't particularly like what he sees in the mirror, but at least he can stand to look.

Eventually, BJ can't put off going back downstairs another minute. He's clean and dressed and he's set his office back to rights.

That had been – that had been difficult.

He'd wrecked a few photographs, the frames twisted and splintered, the smiling faces of his family and the 4077 obscured behind spiderwebbing cracks. It makes him feel guilty, but it's fixable. BJ sweeps up the glass and rescues the pictures from the wreckage of the room to be put in new frames.

But there's nothing he can do about the pile of confetti he made out of some of Hawkeye's letters – the ones that mentioned Trapper most often, by the looks of what's missing from the box of envelopes. And that. That really fucks him up. To know that he was angry enough, drunk and out of control enough, to destroy something so precious.

He has few enough connections to Hawkeye - to what they meant to each other - to go around destroying them like that. But there's nothing he can do about it now except gather the pieces and throw them into the trash, paper falling like snow to gently cover the rest of the broken shambles of his office. That done, BJ really has no more excuses not to go downstairs to find Peg. To talk to her.

BJ thinks maybe his office could use another round of tidying up.

Peg is an immovable boulder. BJ won't be able to shift her or persuade her to put this off again or sneak past her. She will sit here as long as it takes for BJ to come to her, to apologize to her for last night, to tell her what, exactly, the fuck is going on with him right now. But that doesn't mean that Peg isn't an impatient boulder.

She crosses her legs, ankle demurely over ankle, and flicks to the next page in her Good Housekeeping. It's a quiz to see if you're a good housewife. They seem to put one in every issue – and always with the same questions. Is your floor clean enough to eat off of – despite the requisite dog and several young children? Do you look like you just spent the day at a spa – instead of spending the day cleaning and cooking and chasing after said dog and children? Do you do anything and everything for your husband – and have no expectations of him ever doing the same for you? Peg recrosses her ankles the other way and flips to the next article. Twenty gelatin dishes your family will Just Adore! – sponsored by Jell-O. Lovely.

She hopes BJ hurries it up a little.

When BJ quits stalling and actually gets up the courage to go downstairs and face Peg, she's sitting in the living room, reading a magazine. It's a normal enough scene – although the lack of children is strange. And then BJ realizes that he hadn't seen them last night either. Peg must have - must have kept them away from him.

All the air goes out of his lungs and BJ collapses next to her on the couch, burying his head in his hands. He wants to weep. The idea that he can't be trusted around his own children - who he loves more than anything in the world, except for Peg - is terrible, horrifying. And he had no idea how long she's been doing this. When BJ thinks back to other nights he's gotten a little too far into the bottle – what he can remember of those nights, anyway – the kids are conspicuously absent there as well. Sent to bed early – without a bedtime story, since BJ is usually the one to do that – or sent off to his parents' house. Carefully kept from having to see him like that. Like that, like that – dead drunk and so angry he starts breaking things is what he means.

BJ tries to tell himself it's not really that bad. That it doesn't happen often – and it's always provoked by something, anyway. Justified. And he would never hurt anyone – would never turn that anger on Peg or the kids, only on objects, things that can be replaced if broken. But that's not really true, either. He'd hit Hawkeye - punched him right in the face for no reason other than BJ'd been angry and Hawkeye had tried to keep him from making a mistake. And they'd never really talked about it afterwards. BJ hadn't really apologized, either – just helped Hawkeye rebuild the still – and permanently erase the last tangible part of Trapper left in Korea. Cuz it always comes back to that with him, doesn't it. Jesus fucking Christ.

Peg has continued to flip through her magazine during BJ's little crisis, but he can tell she's not really paying it much attention. Her eye's keep slipping from the glossy pages and onto BJ's face. Waiting for him to start explaining himself, to give her some sort of context for last night – and all the other nights he's been like this. And BJ still doesn't understand all of what he's feeling, all of what had made him so fucking angry last night – but at least he knows where to begin.

“I'm so sorry, Peggy,” he says into his knees, not able to look her in the eye, afraid of what he'll find there. “I know it doesn't make up for things, but I am so fucking sorry.”

Peg nods to herself. He's right, sorry doesn't fix anything. But BJ has cleaned up the damage he'd done and apologized. It's a step in the right direction – and useless guilt and self recrimination doesn't rope a steer.

She puts a steadying hand on BJ's shoulder. “Apology accepted, dear. But we are talking about whatever caused this little... outburst.” Because sorry or not, they can't keep going on like this.

BJ nods. “I've – this morning was sort of a slap in the face, Peg.” His face twists in anguish. “I don't ever want something like this to happen again – I can't let something like this happen again. So.”

BJ takes a breath, gathers the stray thoughts he's had, tries to bring them together into something that resembles coherency.

“So Trapper John McIntyre. I hate his guts and he was all over Hawkeye's letter. What they did together and what idea Trapper had for this stupid wedding. And Hawkeye talked the whole time about Trapper's kids like they were his or something – and how they were all going up to Maine to visit Hawkeye's dad. It just! Why does Trapper get to have that? Why does he get to live with Hawkeye, spend time with Hawkeye's family, be Hawkeye's family?”

Why does he get all that when BJ doesn't.

“Trapper's a third-rate surgeon and a cheater and a, a rake. Always tom-catting around with his stupid body and his stupid face and his stupid little smirk. Like he's some kind of fucking movie star or something. Some big man on campus. Where's Trapper's research position at a prestigious university if he's so damn good? That's right, he doesn't have one. All he has is some experience in trauma surgery and friends in high places. Hawkeye deserves better.”

“Like you?” Peg's sideways glance seems to ask.

“Yeah, like me,” BJ growls under his breath. And then at a volume Peg can hear, says, “But despite Trapper being average in probably every single way – and he's not half as funny as he thinks he is, either – Hawkeye's shacked up with him like they're fucking newlyweds. It's. They're keeping house together. And Hawkeye just – as soon as Trapper walked through the door, he just stopped talking to me. Started asking after Trapper's day and why he was late getting home – like some perfect little wife. I'm surprised he didn't run and get him his fucking slippers.”

“So you think Trapper's taking advantage of him – of his feelings for him? Is that what's bothering you about all this?” Peg asks.

Because Trapper sounds like a real heel, from BJ's telling. But she's not sure how much of that is reality and how much of it is BJ twisting and misinterpreting things due to his own dislike of the man. And she knows that BJ's feelings towards him are only part of this – that there's more to BJ's anger than just Trapper being a jerk and Hawkeye writing about him.

BJ sighs. “No, I don't think that.” And in all honesty, he doesn't really believe that Trapper's half so bad – either as a surgeon or as a friend. It's just. “Trapper was doing just as much of the domestic routine as Hawkeye was. He made us dinner, if you can believe that – a roast like you do for Sunday dinner. Or for company that you want to impress.”

And shit. BJ can see – without the haze of alcohol and anger and whatever the hell he'd been feeling when he saw Trapper and Hawkeye together like they'd been – that Trapper had been trying. Probably out of consideration for Hawkeye, but still. He'd tried. Asked BJ about his work, showed interest in BJ's achievements, made polite conversation with him when Hawkeye was all talked out.

Or too busy eating the food Trapper had made.

All the time BJ had known Hawkeye, he'd barely eaten anything at all. Even with their strange little dinner routine of Hawkeye smelling his food and then giving it to BJ, who'd then put it right back on Hawkeye's plate, most of it went untouched. And sure, Army food was terrible – worse than anything BJ'd ever tried to cook in his shitty apartment kitchen back in college. But it was edible, if you were hungry enough. And the thing about thirty plus hours at a stretch in the OR is that you get pretty hungry.

So BJ had figured that Hawkeye just didn't eat much. He was skinny enough for that to be believable. But there he'd been, eating seconds at dinner and stealing cake off Trapper's plate during dessert. Something Trapper reacted to with fond annoyance - like it was normal, like he'd always done it. And BJ had started to wonder if this is what Hawkeye had been like before, when Trapper'd been in Korea.

Back before BJ had showed up.

And that's not even getting into the way the two of them had been during breakfast. Dancing around one another in the kitchen. Like they were so familiar with one another that they didn't need words to navigate the space between their bodies. And they'd fed each other then too. Hawkeye pressing grapes into Trapper's waiting mouth. Trapper fixing Hawkeye coffee like he knew the way he took it by heart. It had been so intimate – more intimate than almost anything BJ can think of doing with anyone he wasn't married to.

“No, Trapper's in on the whole newlyweds thing, too. And the worst of it is is that Hawkeye's happy like that.” BJ pulls at his hair in frustration. “That sounds terrible. I. What I mean is, I just thought that we needed each other, back in Korea. That Hawkeye needed me just as much as I needed him. And I needed him so much, Peg – I clung to him. And I thought he was clinging to me, too. But it turns out that what he needs is fucking Trapper.” Or Trapper fucking him, a snide voice inside BJ's head pipes up. “And now I don't know where we stand with one another. If Hawkeye really liked me at all, or if I was just. Convenient. A replacement for the person he really wanted there.”

“I know that you, that you need to feel needed in a relationship, BJ,” Peg says gently.

She's starting to see a connection here, with the way BJ's talking about things, to how he'd been when he felt she didn't need him anymore. A connection that she's pretty sure he hasn't figured out yet. He always was a little obtuse.

“And dear, I think Hawkeye being happy probably has more to do with not being in Korea than anything else. He wasn't very happy in Korea with Trapper either, after all. And he might not need you quite the same way he did back then, but he reached out to you, BJ. He kept your friendship alive after the war, and I think that counts for something.”

BJ looks a lot less miserable at that. “You're right, Peg. Our friendship is too important to let something like being on opposite sides of the country get in the way of it. Or us having our own lives.” Even if Hawkeye's life inexplicably involved Trapper. “I guess I should take him up on the offer to stay over a few extra days, then.”

Peg takes his hand. “You don't need to make any kind of decision about anything right away. Maybe take a few days to figure out where you stand with things. It's been – it's been an emotional day.”

BJ isn't quite sure why she's counseling him to wait on writing back to Hawkeye, but he trusts her judgment, so he nods in agreement and squeezes her hand tightly. He's really really lucky to have someone like Peg in his life.

--

About a week later, the penny finally drops. BJ bolts upright in bed, going from just about to nod off to terribly, utterly awake.

“Oh my God,” BJ whispers in something that sounds a lot like horror. “Oh my God, I think I'm in love with him.”

There's no real mystery as to who he's talking about. Not with the way BJ sits there, practically stewing in – Peg doesn't know. Guilt maybe. Or shame. Like he's done something wrong, cheated on her somehow, by feeling things he didn't even realize he was feeling until just now.

Peg isn't particularly surprised, is the thing.

She'd spent the week thinking about all of this. This thing between Hawkeye and her husband. And Peg feels like this realization hasn't just been brewing since BJ got back. No, this all started well before then.

Peg feels like she ought to have known, ever since she'd gotten that first letter from BJ talking about how good a surgeon and how compassionate and how bright and fun and funny Hawkeye was. It was practically a love letter to Hawkeye Pierce. It was just neither of them had seen it til now.

Then there were all the other letters, talking about Hawkeye nearly constantly. Both in the funny stories and the more serious passages about terrible the war was - about how much BJ loved and missed Peg and Erin and couldn't wait to be back home – and how Hawkeye had done something to cheer him up in the meantime. He'd inhabited every stroke of BJ's pen. He'd become a constant companion to Peg during BJ's time in Korea.

She'd come to care for him a great deal, despite having never met him. She'd been glad that BJ had someone there for him – and that he could be there for. Because that thing of BJ's about needing to be needed, Hawkeye had brought that out of him in spades.

So many of the letters had had themes of: Hawkeye's feeling down, here's how I cheered him up. Frankly, it should have been obvious just from that. BJ's love for Hawkeye goes well beyond simply friendship.

And Peg thinks the feeling is mutual. After all, she had gotten that letter from Hawkeye saying that BJ was real cut up he was missing his anniversary and could she maybe send him something to cheer him up. Except that it wasn't just a letter or maybe a photograph or another smutty novel Hawkeye was asking for Peg to send. It was her he was asking her for – all the things she'd do with BJ on a normal anniversary with them both home in Mill Valley recorded and mailed to Korea.

Hawkeye had needled and prodded and tricked information out of BJ until he could recreate an entire day of his life. And not just any day – their wedding anniversary. And since Peg couldn't be there to celebrate with BJ, Hawkeye had done it for her. For BJ. If that doesn't spell love, she doesn't know what does.

It should bother her, the idea that another man loves her husband – and that her husband loves him back. And that Hawkeye knows parts of BJ that she can never know.

And it does, a little. The idea that Peg hadn't been able to be there for BJ in all of the ways he'd needed. That he'd had to find someone else a little closer to home to take care of him – and to be taken care of by him – in Korea. That BJ still harbors these feelings for Hawkeye even now that he's back home with her and the kids.

But BJ isn't about to leave her - not with the way he's clinging to her hand and looking at her like she's his only chance at deliverance. And all of Hawkeye's love for BJ had been expressed in gestures like that anniversary movie – things that brought them closer together, things that let BJ come home to her mostly whole.

Even if they end up talking about this, BJ and Hawkeye, it's not going to go change things between them. There's no guarantee that anything will come of it other than emotional honesty. After all, BJ seems quite certain that Hawkeye is in a committed relationship – for whatever value of committed he and Trapper are both capable of. Trapper hadn't been the only one with rather legendary prowess with the nurses, after all.

So the only question she has is, “What do you want to do about this, dear?”

What BJ wants to do is run and hide, to curl up in the safety of Peg's arms and never think about this again. What BJ wants to do is go find Hawkeye and bring him to Mill Valley and keep him here forever. But neither of those are exactly options, so he says, “I guess I want to talk to him. About all this.” He gestures vaguely at the space between them, the bedroom at large, maybe even all of Mill Valley. There's just so much – and BJ doesn't know what any of it means yet.

“Well then, I guess we'd better plan on staying in Boston a few extra days. Why don't you let Hawkeye know.”

--

Trapper gets woken up by the phone ringing in the middle of the night on a week when he's not supposed to be working nights. But sometimes, there's an emergency bad enough everyone gets called up, scheduling be damned. So he holds back on the stream of profanity he wants to let loose and picks up the receiver.

“This is John McIntyre.”

“Hi, Trapper.” And it's Aisling from down the way, not one of the emergency services operators, so that means he doesn't need to start getting dressed at least. “I got a BJ Hunnicutt calling for Hawkeye. All the way from California, if you can believe it.”

“Yeah, yeah, they're old war buddies. I'll go get Hawkeye. Tell BJ to learn how time zones work while he waits.”

Of course, Hawkeye's wide awake now and looking questioningly at Trapper, trying to figure out what's so important that he's getting a phone call from BJ at two in the morning. And Trapper could just pass over the phone, BJ probably wouldn't say anything about it – and Aisling, who's voice Hawkeye can hear clear from across the room, definitely wouldn't. But Trapper's apparently feeling a little huffy about being woken up for a non-emergency type situation – at least, Hawkeye hopes it's not an emergency type situation. Not much Hawkeye can do from Boston if it is. So that just means something terrible like death or. No, everything is fine. BJ just doesn't know what time it is in Boston. Or he's drunk and. No, that's not really better.

Hawkeye makes impatient grabby hands at the phone.

“Hey, BJ. What's going on? Is something wrong?”

Hawkeye sounds muddled and half-asleep through the phone and suddenly, this seems like a bad idea. Like BJ's jumped the gun. What time is it in Boston, anyway?

“Hey, Hawk. Nothing's wrong.”

BJ hopes not, at any rate. He'll have to wait to see Hawkeye in person to know for sure. That definitely isn't the kind of conversation you have over the phone when the operator – or Trapper – could be listening in.

“Look, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to say that I'm planning to come to Boston for the wedding and that Peg and I would love to stay for a few extra days. And that I'm sorry I've been kind of a jerk.”

Hawkeye's smile can be heard through the phone. “BJ, that's great news! I can't wait to see you both. Though maybe we could talk about this some time other than the middle of the night?”

Oops. Peg's listening in on the call and BJ can feel her silent laughter breathing against the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll write you a letter tomorrow. Sorry to call so late – I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“It's ok, BJ. But if that's everything, I'm going back to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Hawk,” BJ barely breathes into the receiver.

All of the air has gone out of his lungs, but out of relief this time, not fear. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders, getting to hear Hawkeye's voice – even if only for a minute. Knowing that he's real and there, even all the way across the country, and that BJ will have a chance to talk – really talk – to him soon. It's a bigger relief than he could have imagined.

“You're a real smart lady, Mrs. Hunnicutt,” BJ says into Peg's bare shoulder.

She kisses his forehead. “Goodness knows, one of us has to be. Now you'd better get some sleep too. You can write Hawkeye and Charles in the morning.”

[charlieandbean]

Early Life Story

So after answering the anon about being apologetically apologetic I’ve had a few more asking for background/a bit more of an understanding what I meant.

So I’m sorry if this doesn’t interest you, but I thought it was time for a bit of a run down.

***TRIGGERS***

So my parents were never married, but when I was nearly 2 they separated. Weirdly enough they remained close, like they lived around the corner from each other and it wasn’t uncommon for dad to come home to mum and I at his apartment. They decided never to go through the court system and instead i would spend every 2nd weekend with my dad and also every Wednesday from 5-8pm. It worked. It was great, they got on fine.

Then when I was about 4. My mum met my step dad. This was the end of all friendly interactions between my parents. My stepfather has 3 children to a previous marriage and they live with their mother, they youngest being only a few months older than I. In the beginning things were great, I loved my stepfather and I was unaware of any tension that may have been there between my parents (including my SF).

So this might be wrong, the story could be different - I wasn’t yet at school (around 5yo) but I was soon to start and one day my mum, SF and I were in their bedroom, he picked me up by my feet to play “dead fish” (where I would dangle upside down and gross out my mum) and I remember asking him to put me down incase he broke the bracelet I was wearing - it was a shitty thing from a $2 shop that was gifted to me by my baby sitter - sure enough it was broken and being 5 I was hella upset. I wasn’t upset that it was broken, I was upset that it was a gift and it had been broken even though I asked him to put me down.

And that for me was the last time I remember him being nice to me.

After that I was terrified of him, he flicked a switch. I remember starting school and him coming to pick me up on occasion, and I would almost cry and run away. I would cry when I was being dropped off after a weekend with my dad. I would stay in my bedroom. I would only go to the toilet when he wasn’t home. I would only get a snack when he wasn’t around. I would wait for him to leave in the morning (I would actually get on all fours and look under my door and listen to see if had left) before I left my room of a morning. He constantly told me I was worthless, would walk past my door and call me an attention seeker, a stupid bitch and that I’d be better off dead with my father. He would call me pathetic and call me a pig.

I was no older than 6 when this started.

When we were around family he would corner me and tell me to not be and “attention whore or else” which would mean I wouldn’t talk to anyone.. my own family… because I was terrified of what he would do. Then because I was quiet, which was unlike me, my family would talk to me and ask me questions, all while in the background my SF would be shaking his head, scowling and motioning slitting his throat. So I couldn’t win. I couldn’t talk to people but couldn’t stay quiet, so I would go sit in a corner somewhere and just try to fade away. Again. I was 6. He turned family against me, my own grandparents.

This went on for years. When my brother was born when I was 9 I was thrilled. But nope. I couldn’t touch him, couldn’t look at him, couldn’t smile at him. I remember he was like 2 and he was putting his bowl on his head, it was fucking hilarious, and I started to giggle and my SF kicked me so hard under the table I started crying. There was so much more shit like this. Day in and day out.

I remember around the same age, I was 11, we went on a holiday, I let my guard down because my SF was being somewhat normal.

I regretted it. On the way home (8 hour drive) my 2yo brother was pretty upset and mum and SF where having an argument, my mum screamed at him to pull over and that she was getting out and I remember the sheer panic that ran through my body thinking that she was going to leave me with him, and I remember looking in the review mirror and seeing the grin he had on his face knowing how I felt (that’s another thing he would angle the mirrors so he could mouth how pathetic I was without mum seeing) we got home, I had a bath and when to my room. They were screaming at each other so I packed a bag and jumped out the bathroom window and ran to my best friends house around the corner. Long story short here is that mum got me into see a psychiatrist, I went twice on my own and once with mum, the plan was to do more sessions with the two of us and then introduce my SF. But we never got there. The first night after my mum and I saw the psychiatrist together he came home drunk, and again they had a massive fight. Because he was saying “big bad ‘name’…always my fault, I’m fucking better off dead, might as well leave now…” he told my mum that my dad was the reason they weren’t working and that it’d be better if I was never born so my dad was out of their lives…. my mum shouted back that sometimes she wish she’d never had me, I stopped listening and shut myself in my cupboard and went to sleep. He victimised himself, and sure enough mum and I never went back again…. and things went back to “normal”

Fast forward through years of this.

Belittling, humiliation, assault on my father which ended up with charges, mind fuckery, taking the blame for mess my siblings made because I was scared of what he would do to them, stalking, road rage and a few self harming moments from myself, a few instances of physical assault that never went anywhere because it was “an accident” (all before 14)

The night I moved out was rough.

My mum played indoor netball once a week. She had to leave by 6. Meaning SF had to be home.m - he knew this. Instead he wasn’t, so I’d eaten with the kids got them ready for bed (brother 4 and sister about 1?) and was washing and drying the dishes (this was my job every night from the age of 7. Wash dry and put away all dishes) and SF came home, obviously slightly intoxicated. The kids were in the lounge and he sat at the breakfast bar while I dried dishes and he started. Started calling pathetic, asking him if I thought he was a piece of shit. I stayed quiet. Numb, my normal state. He kept going, asking him I thought he was shit while smiling and getting louder. I cracked and said yes. I told him straight up I thought he was a fucking asshole. He threw a hot cup of coffee at me that shattered all over the kitchen wall and ended up burning my chest. My sister was crying. So I tried to leave. I had had a bag packed for months. And I went to walk out the door. He picked me up and threw me against a wall and left. I was left shaking and crying trying to calm my siblings, who were tired, scared and emotional. I called my best friend and her mum and they came around but couldn’t do anything… they couldn’t take the kids and didn’t want to get involved with my SF if he came back. So I called my Aunty and Uncle, my aunt came flying in and I just went numb, I told her what happened and she said she would stay until mum got home, while waiting for her I finished the dishes and cleaned up all the coffee and glass. It was Thursday. I went home with my aunt and stayed there, Friday I still went to school and I called my dad who was working out of state, he flew red eye home that night and picked me up first thing on Saturday morning. Sunday afternoon my mum dropped all my clothes off and books, wrote a statement on the back of a receipt that stated she was handing full custody over to my father and he was in control. Monday she left for 3 weeks with my siblings to Townsville to stay with my uncles.

I spent years in therapy, I still need it but it’s too much right now. I was and still am on antidepressants. I clinically suffer from depression and multiple anxiety disorders. My relationships with family and friends are still hard. It’s hard to have them without feeling worthless and I don’t deserve them. I feel guilty when I’m happy because I don’t think I deserve it. It impacts every aspect of my life. Yet my mums still with him, my son(s) call him poppy and we get on well now. He has his moments, and I’m coming to a point where if another one happens soon I will be cutting him off completely.

I’m terrified that what he has done to me will impact my parenting. And I’m trying to not let it.

[jojuarez26]

When love isn't enough:Feels like goodbye

Mature content and strong language Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC @pathybo @tigpooh67 @ljvosscmt @beautifulramblingbrains @dani5102 @scorpio2009 @clublulu333 @glamlover87 @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @mom2reesie @frecklefaceb @ericdauntless @ariwolff14 @james-k-delaney @muffinmano @beltz2016 @sparklemichele @angolodiparadiso @jackiefreakqueen @jaihardy @societalfailure @drowning-in-my-dreams @randomness-ensues @crystalbaby12 It's Sunday. Which is significant for two reasons. Tomorrow Eric completes initiation and today dinner to discuss Eric's moving in with us permanently. It was surreal to get up today and find my mother and Eric sipping coffee in the kitchen together. I looked at him then at her then back at him again. They were both smiling. This is a miracle in itself that Eric is smiling in front of my mother. He reached out for my hand and pulled me to him. "Good morning beautiful. How did you sleep?" I had nightmares two days in a row. "Better. What are you guys talking about?" I want to know what the hell has Eric smiling. "Childhood stories. Growing up with Dawn, Rusty and Albert," mom has her nostalgia smile plastered on. I look at Eric out of the corner of my eye and he gives my hand a light reassuring squeeze to say he is fine. Initiates have Sunday's off. However he still puts three hours in EVERY Sunday. At my mother's suggestion I joined him today. Two and a half hours in I'm over it. "Are you you tired sweetheart?" Eric teased. He's still jumping around like Bambi frolicking threw the damn forest. "Sorry. I'm not the fucking energizer bunny." he let's out the loudest, heartiest laugh I ever heard come out of his mouth. "Tell me how you really feel why don't you," he takes his stance. "I believe I just did," I roll my eyes and take my stance as well. After not being able to land any punches I try for a kick. I failed epically. Eric managed to grab my leg and drop me down hard on the mat. Quickly he straddled my hips and pinned my wrist above my head. Leaning down with our lips lightly touching he grins before he whispered. "I win." Feeling rather mischievous and a little naughty, I wrapped my legs around his waist and hooked my feet behind his calves. Using all the force I had I thrust my hips against his. "No. I win, " I smirked. He was so caught off guard he held as still as a statue with lust filled eyes holding mine. "Leci don't. I am running out of will power to fight it," he hissed in my ear. "So don't," I vollied back. "Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you drive my mind and body?"he began to kiss across my collar bone. "Its like an addiction that is starving that you can't feed. You crave it, but no matter how much you get your never fully satisfied." I whispered between kiss up his neck and ears. "How, how did you, I. Fuck it," he mumbled before starting to grind his hips back against mine. He let go of my wrist and I wrapped my hands in his hsir anchoring myself to him as we slowly devoured each others lips. He had just started to creep his hand up my shorts, someone cleared their throat. Both of our heads turn to see Gage. The assistant trainer and he is glaring at us. "Don't let me interrupt," his tone is razor sharp. Eric rolled to a crouching position in front of me. He reached back and handed me his shirt to put on. Then he pulled me up holding my hand keeping on the far side behind him. They two of them starred each other down engaged in some silent argument that I wasn't privy to. When we reached the pit I yanked on Eric's arm to get his attention. "What the hell was that about?" I used my authoritve voice. "Drop it Leci. Just let it go," his eyes were hard and cold. "No. Fuck that. What was that about Eric!?" I wasn't going to back down. "Aleisia I won't repeat myself again. Let.it.go. Please." he was all but pleading. We had dinner and I didn't want to fight, so I decided to concede, for now. "Fine. We have dinner to get ready for. Let's go." I stalked off not waiting for him to follow. I helped my mother finish dinner and set the table while Amar and Eric sipped on beers in the living room. Something had seemed off with my mother ever since we returned from our training session, but I couldn't put my finger on it or pinpoint it. "Dinner is ready gentleman, " she called out in a sing song voice. She's nervous. What the hell is she nervous about? Eric and I hadn't spoke to each other since we returned home. However as he sat down he gave me a look clearly wanting to know what was going on. I just shrugged because I had no idea. "So Eric, Amar says you have really excelled in initiation. Always maintaining between first and second rank. That's excellent. Have you given any thought to what career you would like to pursue? " my mother's smile was forced and fake. "Yes ma'am. I would like either the leadership position or tactical ops commander." at this my mothers smile was sad. "Raul, Aleisia's father, held the tactical ops commander position up until he passed away." she lowered her head and let out a shaky breath. After several minutes of akward silence she trained her gaze on Eric and spoke again. "What are your long term intentions with my daughter? Do you see a future with her or are you just passing the time?" my jaw dropped. "Mother what is going on? What is a matter with you?!" I shouted angrily. "It's ok Aleisia I understand," his eyes where still on my mothers. "No the hell it's not! Mother wh-" "Just answer the damn question!" my mother slammed her hand on the table as she demanded an answer. "Momma please stop it," my eyes filled with tears as I tried to figure out what was going on. "Permission to speak freely ma'am." I turned and glared at Eric. This was a family dinner not a damn war zone. My mother flashed a keen smile before she spoke. "Permission granted." What the absolute fuck? Had they both lost their damn minds? "While it is a fair question I don't mind asking, let me ask you this first? Why do you feel I owe you an answer and not your daughter and her alone?" his tone was casual but his eyes never left my mother's or her his. "My you are a clever boy aren't you. That's fine. I don't mind telling you why." tears slowly began to slide down my mother's cheeks. "Mother that is enough! What the hell is going on!" I was getting furious. "Aleisia be quiet and let her speak and stop interrupting," even though he spoke to me he never broke eye contact with my mother. I opened my mouth to protest until my uncle shot me a warning glare to keep quiet. "I feel you owe me an honest answer because I intend to leave my pride and joy, my only daughter and everything my late husband and I worked all of our lives for in your care. Before I do that I would like to know HOW you FEEL about my daughter. What are your intentions?" they continued to stare each other down and I had had enough. "Mother you have clearly lost your mind and I am done with this conversation." I stood to leave until Eric's voice boomed out at me. "Sit down Aleisia! Let.her.speak. This would get resolved quicker if you would just keep your mouth shut and listen." who the hell did he think he was. He was NOT my father. "Eric you can ju-" "Aleisia shut your mouth. Listen to your mother and Eric!" my uncle meant business. I sat back down glaring at my mother until Eric spoke three little words that changed everything. " I love her," he spoke so quietly it was barely above a whisper. I dropped my cup as I choked on my drink in shock. The look on Amar's face was first shocked but then pleased. He turned and smiled at my mother. "Good enough for me. Especially coming from Eric. Go ahead Tish. It's time to tell both of them everything. We only have two weeks to plan for two years." We both looked at each other slightly questioning whether we really wanted to know. My mother wiped her eyes, cleared her throat and put her face in her hands. "Mother? " I was beyond worried at this point. "Little Bit give your momma a moment. This isn't going to be easy on either of you," his eyes had an overwhelming sadness to them. He reached out and held my mother's hand. "Baby I have to leave the city with your uncle and Ryan does too. It will be up to you and Eric to convince Jeanine we are dead." her voice cracked as she spoke. "WHAT!! WHY!! Please tell me what is going on!" I started to openly cry too. Eric moved his chair next to mine and pulled me in his lap wrapping his arms tightly around me running his finger's threw my hair "Jeanine has placed a bounty on our heads." "What the FUCK!?" I jumped up and spun to punch him in the face but my uncle was faster and grabbed my arm to stop me. " I swear I didn't know, I don't know!! She hasn't said anything like that to me," Eric spoke calm and clearly and looked me straight in the eye as he spoke. "He speaks the truth Little Bit. She has stopped telling him most things. She doesn't exactly trust him since Audrianna mysteriously went missing the day of her execution and he started sharing a bed with you honey." "Fuck. If that's the case how am I in a position to help anyone." distress rang in his voice clear as a bell. "Well let us wanted out laws tell you EXACTLY what the both of you are going to do," Amar looked between us to make sure he still had our attention. "What are your crimes are you guilty of," I could tell he had an idea. I think he hoped he was wrong. "Divergence." my uncle stated . "Shit. I was afraid you were going to say that. How are all three, four including your late husband, divergent but Aleisia is not." his Erudite was getting the best of him. "Nose, your Erudite is showing," I snapped. He just rolled his eyes at me and turned back to my mother. " I honestly have no idea. She is actually Erudite. But you have to promise me you will keep her in Dauntless." "There is NO chance in HELL she's going to Erudite. Over my dead body." I was getting irate. They kept talking about me like I wasn't even there. "HELLO!! I AM SITTING RIGHT HERE!! Don't all of you think you need to be addressing me and not ignoring the fact I am in the same damn room. You know what. I have nothing to say to any of you." I turned around and stormed out the door slamming it behind me. A little ways down the hall I took off running. I was tired of everyone else making my decisions for me. This was really starting to feel like goodbye.

[writteninthestars288]

Always Mine - Chapter 14

[CHAPTER ONE] [CHAPTER TWO] [CHAPTER THREE] [CHAPTER FOUR] [CHAPTER FIVE] [CHAPTER SIX] [CHAPTER SEVEN] [CHAPTER EIGHT] [CHAPTER NINE] [CHAPTER TEN] [CHAPTER ELEVEN] [CHAPTER TWELVE] [CHAPTER THIRTEEN]

A/N: Hey guys! Here is chapter 14! So unfortunately, this is the last chapter of Always Mine until The Walking Dead comes back to TV. But don’t worry, I’m going to start outlining the prequel! I was thinking about a new update schedule. How would you guys feel about Always Mine being updated on Thursday’s and the prequel being updated on Sunday’s? Let me know what you think! I want to try and have the first chapter of the prequel done by Sunday so you guy’s still get an update!

“No!”

Katherine immediately pulled her hands out of Negan and pushed him off of her. Negan immediately sat up and scowled at her while she quickly pulled a sheet up to cover her body.

“What the fuck do you think you're fucking doing?”

Katherine could see the way his eyes had darken. She clutched the sheet tighter to her chest as her heart beat fast against her chest. She had just acted on instinct. She didn't want to get pregnant and she knew Negan was dangerously close to cumming inside of her.

“I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”  She was still breathing harshly as she pushed hair out of her face. She could still feel his eyes on her as he waited for her reason. “I-I don't think I'm ready for a baby.”

“But aren't you the fucking person who just brought it up the other fucking day?”

Katherine swallowed the lump in her throat. She was the one who brought it up but only because she didn't want to hurt Eugene. She had never regretted something more than not thinking about what she was saying that day.

“I-I know but-.”

“But fucking what? Spit it the fuck out!”

Katherine jumped when Negan yelled.

She didn't know what to say? That she had lied about the whole baby thing? That she didn't really meant what she said? She knew Negan better than anyone and she knew he would not take that very well. He hated people that lied to him.

Katherine laughed as she made her way to her apartment. It was about two in the morning and she had just gotten home from going out clubbing with some of the other women she worked with at the daycare. She had her phone to her ear, holding it there with her shoulder while she fished around in her purse for her keys to unlock her door.

“Is that Bobby Jo crying in the back ground?”

“Yea. She's so drunk. We just called a cab. You get home okay?”

Katherine had left a little earlier then all her friends since she had a lot of errands she had to run the next day. She was planning on heading back to Atlanta soon and had to make sure everything was in place. She also had to make sure Negan didn't find out about her going back home. She knew he would not be happy and do anything in his power to keep her in Virginia. But it was time for her to go. It was time for her to leave the volatile relationship.

She was tired of feeling like she was a little kid. Having to do everything Negan said. Having to tell him where she was going and who with. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy that she had to lie about going out with her friends tonight just to ignore an argument.

Negan had asked her to go to dinner and a movie but she had made up the excuse she was sick at home with the stomach bug. She knew she was safe in her lie because she knew he wouldn't come over and check on her since it meant he could possible get sick and not be able to go see Lucille.

“Yea I just got up to my floor. When you take her home, make sure to have her drink some water before laying down and make sure to lay her on her side.”

She heard, Anne, laugh on the other end.

“I know, Mom.” Katherine rolled her eyes as she stopped in front of her apartment door. She placed her key in the lock and turned before pushing the door open and stepping in. Shutting the door behind her and locking it, she threw her purse and keys on the island counter.

“Just trying to help. I've taken care of my fair share of drunks. Call me tomorrow, maybe we can grab some lucnh if Bobby Jo isn't throwing up.”

Anne laughed.

“You got it. Night Kat.”

“Night.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and pushed the end button. She sighed tiredly and started making her way back to her bedroom. She let out a groan when she pulled her heels off before opening her bedroom door.

It was dark in the room which meant she didn't see the figure sitting on the bed. She didn't know he was there until he spoke.

“About fucking time.”

Katherine screamed loudly and immediately turned her bedroom light on. Ice shot through her veins and she froze seeing Negan sitting on her bed. And he did not look happy.

“N-Negan? What are y-you doing here?”

Negan sucked on his teeth.

“Well I thought I'd be fucking nice and come over to see if my sick fucking girlfriend needed anything. But imagine my fucking surprise when I come in and no one is fucking here.”

He got off the bed and charged over to her. Katherine stepped back until her back hit the wall. Negan placed a hand on either side of her head, trapping her in.

“Where the fuck did you go fucking dressed like that?” He hissed, taking in the tight, purple, dress she was wearing.

Katherine was sure her heart was going to jump out of her chest. She knew there was no use in lying to him anymore.

“I-I went out with Anne and them.”

“And you didn't think to just fucking tell me that? Instead you chose to fucking lie to my fucking face!” Katherine jumped when he yelled. Tears stung her eyes.

“I knew you'd be angry.”

He gripped her chin and pulled her eyes up to meet his.

“You're fucking right I would be. But I'm even more fucking pissed that you lied to me.” He pushed his upper body against hers. He let go of her chin and bent down to whisper in her ear. “You are in so much fucking trouble.”

He pulled back and grabbed her arm, pulling her over to the bed.

He sat down and pulled her down so she was laying on her stomach across his lap.

“W-what are you doing?” She asked, as he pulled her dress up so her ass was showing.

“You wanna fucking lie to me? Then you're going to get fucking punished.”

Before she knew it, a hard slap hit her butt making her yell.

“Ow!” She tried to wiggle off his lap but his right arm came down and trapped her against his lap. He raised his hand again and spanked her. “Ow stop!” She yelled tears stinging her eyes. Both from a little pain and some from embarrassment. He was spanking her like she was a child instead of a twenty two year old girl.

She kicked her legs and wiggled as he slapped her butt over and over again. Tears were pouring from her eyes when he finally stopped. He pulled her so she was sitting upright and she winced when her butt rubbed against the material of his jeans.

“Fucking look at me.” He gripped her chin again and pulled her face to his. “Do you see where fucking lying gets you? You know how much I fucking hate liars so why would you lie?” He growled, his eyes darkening to where they almost looked black. Katherine sniffled.

“I-I'm sorry.” She whispered. A grin slowly broke out on his face.

“I fucking know you are, Kitty Kat. I don't ever want to fucking do that again you undestand me?”

She slowly nodded her head.

“Good.” He grinned, leaning forward to press his lips against hers.

“Earth to fucking Katherine!”

Katherine snapped back to reality as Negan yelled. She quickly turned her head so she was looking at him.

“Are you gonna fucking say something or keep just fucking staring at nothing?”

Katherine took a shaky breath in.

“I'm just not ready, Negan.”

Negan sucked his teeth as he stared at her. Before they could continue talking about the subject, loud footsteps came running down the hallway before a hurried and loud knock sounded on the bedroom door.

Negan growled and whipped his head in the direction of the door.

“Whoever the fuck it is, you better have a good fucking reason why you're fucking interrupting my fucking honeymoon!”

“B-boss, it's Simon. There was a problem down in the mess hall.”

“A problem you couldn't fucking handle?” He hissed. Katherine could imagine Simon was practically shaking. Everyone knew not to interrupt Negan while he was doing something. And when he got ready, you better know how to duck and run.

“I thought you would. Daniel tried to attack Amber.”

Katherine's eyes widened as Negan growled.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” He got off the bed and pulled all his clothes back on before grabbing Lucille.

“Stay here, I'll be right fucking back so we can fucking continue this.”

He ripped the door open before slamming it shut behind him. Katherine jumped as the walls shook. She pressed her back against the headboard of the bed. She hoped Amber was okay. She couldn't help but feel guilty. This would have never happened had Negan not dropped all his wives for her.

If she had never opened her mouth about giving Negan a baby, they wouldn't be where they were right now. Katherine ran her hands through her hair as tears stung her eyes.

She scootched down until she was laying against the pillows. She reached down and pulled the covers up to her chin. She shut her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Everything happening right now was because of her.

/*/

Katherine's eyes cracked open slightly. She was facing the window and saw it was early morning. She furrowed her eyebrows. She didn't remember falling asleep last night. Turning her head, she saw Negan was laying on his back next to her, his arm covering his eyes.

She turned her head back to look out the windows. She noticed is was cloud and could see the rain running down the windows. As she watched the rain fall down, she thought back to last night.

She remembered crying and closing her eyes trying to calm her breathing. That must have been when she fell asleep. She didn't remember Negan coming back. She could only imagine he was pissed when he realized she was sound asleep.

She let out a tired sigh and carefully got out of the bed. She made sure not to wake Negan before softly walking over to his bathroom. She gently shut the door behind her and turned around to start the shower. While it was heating up, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and they also had dark circle underneath them due to her not sleeping good the past couple days. She noticed how tired she was and she knew it wasn't just physical tired. She was mentally tired too. And she knew when Negan woke up, they would continue where they left off last night.

Letting out another sigh, Katherine slipped her wedding band off and placed it on the sink before she walked over and stepped into the shower, closing the curtain behind her. She closed her eyes when the hot water hit her full force. She ran her hands over her know wet hair and down her face.

She made slow work of washing her hair and body. She wanted to spend as much time in there as possible.

For some reason, being in the shower always made her feel better. If she was having a bad day, got into a fight with her parents or Negan, she would always take a shower. She didn't know why. But it always just made her feel better.

Katherine was so caught up in her own world, she didn't realize the bathroom door had opened until the shower curtain was suddenly pulled aside.

Katherine screamed and turned around to come face to face with a smirking, naked, Negan.

“Good fucking morning to you too, Doll.” He stepped inside and closed the curtain behind him. Katherine swallowed hard and didn't look at him, making him smirk.

“I was just finishing up.” She went to get out but Negan stopped her by pulling on her arm.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He turned her around so her back was pressed against his chest. He nuzzled her neck, placing light kisses on her wet skin. “I didn't get to finish what I fucking started last night. The least you could fucking do is shower with me.”

He felt Katherine tense, making him chuckle.

“Fucking relax them shoulder's Kitty Kat, it's just a fucking shower. Besides, I did some fucking thinking last night and ya know what? I don't think I'm ready for a fucking baby yet either.”

Katherine felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulder as he continued.

“I was just fucking thinking about how fucking jealous I got when I saw how much attention you were giving the little angel back in Alexandria. And fuck, I'm just don't think I'm ready to fucking share you yet.”

Katherine wanted to huff. Like he'd ever be ready for that.

“So here's what we're gonna fucking do. We're gonna have Carson give you some fucking birth control because I fucking miss the feeling of cumming inside of you.” He growled as he dick twitched and poked her in the back.

Back in the day, Katherine had been on birth control before so this was nothing new to her. Besides, it would make her feel better if she was on birth control. Althought Negan pulled out, there was always a possibility of his pre-cum getting her pregnant.

“What do you fucking think about that, Doll?”

“Okay.” Negan smirked and spun her around and capturing her lips in a rough kiss. His smirk was not only because he knew Katherine would like that idea but because he had a new plan.

And he just finished step one.

[CHAPTER FIFTEEN]

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[theliterateape]

American Shithole #46 | The Beautiful Things: PBS

By Eric Wilson

It’s raining in Vegas; I can see winds ravage the palm trees just outside my window. I reside in a quiet house today — which is rare; the dogs are unusually silent and Ari is away — and I am going to take my dead wi-fi adapter (keeping me from Sling, which in turn keeps me from CNN) as a cue to write about something I love.

Coincidentally, I might have made a breakthrough in my eternal battle with my temper. I think I broke the wi-fi adapter on the desktop moving it across the room last night, and I reacted poorly this morning when I discovered my predicament. I’ll save the details for another time, but I might have turned a corner.

I hate my temper; yet I have not mastered it. If we are lucky, we learn, we grow, we become better people, etc. — but damn, some of these challenges are fucking life-long. Where’s my End Boss on my anger quest already?

I know one thing that will make me angry — watching our marmalade princess of a president fail at reading sentences on live TV. Fuck the SOTA, let’s talk about the Public Broadcasting Service.

Like many Americans my age, my introduction to PBS was with Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood and Sesame Street.

As I sat this morning pondering my temper, and reflecting on the television I watched as a child, I was struck by a rush of memories, feelings really, when I thought about PBS; everything else, not so much.

I can still remember the comfort; I can’t remember the specifics of episodes, but I recall the comfort — especially with Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

I caught a promo for one of the biographies of the man a week or so back; one of the snippets they used was from the time he spent with a severely disabled child, Jeff Erlanger, and he so masterfully navigated that moment at the end of their encounter. To convey to someone so young, dealing with such a difficult situation, that it is okay to feel sad and then to immediately turn that around into joy. Fucking magical. Beautiful. My chest literally swells every time I think of it.

If humanity were on trial for some reason (an unfortunate turn of events for sure) and I were asked to represent our species in some sort of intergalactic court of law (think: Picard vs. Q in Star Trek: TNG), I would introduce as evidence masterpieces of the arts for sure, great deeds, historic events — but I would open with Fred fucking Rogers.

Sesame Street didn’t need to sell me on multiculturalism, my parents are as progressive as it gets in the States, and they certainly fostered in me a sense of social democracy long before I knew what the term meant. But Sesame Street did need to reach millions of Americans unaware of the melting pot they were living in — and reach them they did.

Here’s a snippet from Wikipedia:

“A 1996 survey found that 95% of all American preschoolers had watched the show by the time they were three years old. In 2008, it was estimated that 77 million Americans had watched the series as children. As of 2014, Sesame Street has won 167 Emmy Awards and 8 Grammy Awards — more than any other children's show.”

167 Emmys. Wow. 

In my YA years, PBS delivered again. On Sunday nights in the late ‘70s/early ‘80s, WTTW Chicago unleashed Monty Python on young American lives. (KERA Dallas has the honor of being the first station to share Python with America, back in 1974.) Regarding the development of humor, I cannot think of a more prominent driving prepubescent force than Monty Python’s Flying Circus — except perhaps the Carlin, Pryor, and Martin vinyl I somehow had at the age of ten (back in the ‘70s before the internet).

Venerable programs like Nova (1974–present) and Nature (1982–present) were also favorites among the few kids I knew that were encouraged to learn, and actually enjoyed doing so. PBS really did right by my generation.

Carl Sagan’s Cosmos (1980). Holy shit, how could I forget Cosmos? I recall (now) how it felt as a twelve-year-old to watch that show. I was confused, full of doubt; and here comes Cosmos, where the Universe is a place of wonder that stretches beyond imagination. (Vonnegut, Herbert, and Asimov had already clued me in.)

I am very, very thankful for the influence PBS had on my life.

PBS has done more good for the minds of American children in the last fifty years than any other institution I can imagine. No wonder the fucking republicans hate PBS so goddamn much (the fucking dirty shitbags).

I was thinking about this a few months ago (as it has always been my plan to honor PBS), if I were limited to only PBS broadcasting, I don’t think I would mind a great deal. The PBS NewsHour is the finest hour of news available (in my opinion), and they always follow that (at least locally) with a show I like. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays at 8 p.m. are Antiques Roadshow (1997–present), Finding Your Roots (2012–present), and Nature, respectively.

And that is about as much time as the average American has for television anyway.

If you do have the time, there is no shortage of quality programming — old and new — on PBS. Frontline (1983–present) has been around forever (and has received every major award in the business); it’s still the vanguard of investigative journalism. American Masters (1986–present), American Experience (1988–present), Masterpiece (1971–present) — it’s a long list of quality programming.

Even reruns of This Old House (1979–present) are useful as Sunday morning salve; for when you need to nurse that particularly painful hangover. Sure, there’s a bit of hammering, but seeing as you got hammered the night before, it only seems befitting.

PBS has a lot of feel-good shows actually, and not just for the kids. Nature to me is a fantastic example of feel-good television — of which I find there are three categories.

Category 1 feel-good television can improve your mood after a hard day; there are quite a few on PBS. Antiques Roadshow is a category 1 feel-good program for me.

Category 2 is rare; it’s the kind of feel-good show you can put on when there’s been a tragedy, and you and your loved ones are exhausted at the end of the day (one probably spent crying, perhaps looking at photographs of a beloved pet). I stockpile these now; they are like gold. Cosmos: A Personal Journey is a winner there, come to think of it. (Into the category 2 emergency file you go.)

Category 3 is the rarest of all — a show that makes you feel so good you can’t sully it by linking it to pain. It’s just too damn good, and you’d never wait anyway.

That’s The Great British Baking Show (2010–present).

And again, it was PBS that first introduced me to this (acutely British, it’s known as The Great British Bake Off over there) well-spring of good feelings. Every season, every episode — ambrosia-like god-food for the soul.

For fifty years, PBS has been the shining example — perhaps the only example — of what television could be; versus the advertisement-laden, thought-controlling, corporate skull-fucking monstrosity it is nearly everywhere else.

Look, I’m a statist. I’m hardwired for cooperation. I like societies. I like the things societies provide. I don’t think it would be better if society collapsed and I had to shit in the woods every day.

When I think of PBS, I think of the very best our society has to offer.

PBS: Because nobody really likes to shit in the woods.

So I skipped the State of the Union this year, and despite the storm front, it’s been a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

(Author’s note: I watched it.)

Okay, I watched it. A little — but I put it on mute. I can’t stomach his voice. What bristled me from the moment he set foot in the Capitol Building, was the fact that almost everyone else in the room knows he’s guilty of treason. Yet still they stand and smile, and clap (and chant “U.S.A.”f or fuck’s sake!).

I was heartened to see that SOC doesn’t clap for traitors (or suffer those who do), and I was moved by Stacy Abrams’ Democratic Response.

Also, by no design, I watched PBS this evening after the SOTA and DR, and was blown away by American Experience: The Greeley Expedition (2011). 

For my entire life, in each decade, PBS has surprised, entertained and enlightened.