#but fuck father's days we actually made the event for the women who had to be mother and father

[envolvenuances]

love is stored in the kitchen for real

[olderthannetfic]

Fanfic with noncon/dubcon, underage, and incest did not lead to me being preyed upon by my father. It took a lot of smooth talking, boundary-testing, manipulation of my perspective of events and myself (the "you're special therefore it's okay" approach to convincing a child to do something society has firmly established is wrong) and years of ongoing bursts of affection, gifts and spoiling in order to get me to "consent" (to whatever degree a ten year old can) to sleep with him. Fanfic did not teach me that incest, adult/child romance, or sex with an underage person by an adult were okay.

Fanfic authors who got really fucking concerned when I kicked in the door to yell about how A/B as a pairing was just like my dad and I hit my DMs hard and asked for details and urged me to get away from him as quickly as possible. I say authors plural because I blocked the first couple of people who tried to talk sense into me but somewhere around the fourth person gently asking for details I started to doubt the "you're special and therefore it's okay" narrative and within six months of being into A/B, a father/daughter incest pairing with an underaged character, the fic authors had untangled for me a lot of complicated feelings and planted doubts in me so successfully about how my father was using his power that I spilled the beans to my mom.

There's this idea in fandom that fic did it, fic made people get abused. Actually, though, fic didn't do it. My father did. He had more input on my life than every fanfic I had ever read and put in a lot of work to get me to a place where he could pitch sex as a loving act between two people who love and adore one another in a society that's too backwards to understand that there are exceptions to the normal rules of what's right and what's wrong. I didn't get groomed by a fanfic, I got groomed by the one family member I lived with, who by virtue of being the only family member I had spent more than a few days with had inherently a very large amount of power over me.

Fic authors, unrelated women from other states and other countries, all acting independently of one another, stopped it.

I get that antis love the idea that my dad wasn't responsible for my abuse, some 25 year old writing A/B in their studio apartment is, but no matter how hard they try to take blame off of him to put it onto someone neither of us ever met, at the end of the day the person responsible for pedophilic, incestuous abuse... is the pedophile fucking his only child. It's him. He did it. He put in a lot of work to do it, it wasn't an idea a fic put in his head that he randomly acted on, he worked at making it happen in a way his conscience could live with for years, and he would not have been stopped if only media didn't write so many father/daughter couples with ten year olds that we were meant to support. Media doesn't show that, for one thing, but more importantly, even if media did, the man made years' worth of repeated decisions to get me onboard with it so he could (he thought) get away with it and do it without guilt.

To me, the "fic did it" argument is basically the "your dad didn't do it" argument. It does not blame a grown man for acts of abuse that he undertook knowingly and willingly. It doesn't blame him for anything.

And to me, that's what dangerous about antis. The abuser is never at fault for abusing someone, even a child, according to their worldview and the abuser had no choice in the matter, somehow. The real culprit is someone who wrote something that has a hundred hits on FFN or AO3, not the man who crawled into bed with a ten year old.

The last person who told me it wasn't his choice to do what he did was my dad. That's what anti rhetoric reminds me of.

--

[lookingfts]

More of older Kate and younger Anthony. It's a tragedy we don't have more fics of that age gap. It's always older Anthony - which is great but I would like to see how it could work with older Kate. So many possibilities. I hope one day you wiil be brave enough to give that trope a try. Maybe you will inspire other writers to do so too.

Here's a little more!

--

“Hey, Kate.”

She really wished he wouldn’t use that fucking voice on her. The soft, rich one that made her knees go a little weak and blood rush to her face, as if he literally wasn’t just saying hello.

“Hi, Anthony,” she said evenly, taking a sip of her Moscato. “Good to see you.”

His warm eyes flicked over her body, subtly, but not fast enough for Kate not to notice. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Truthfully, she felt a bit awkward. She hadn’t worn this dress in at least eight years, on Tom’s arm at some work event. It was drapey silver fabric, with jeweled straps and a high slit in the back. Kate knew it still looked good, knew her figure hadn’t changed much in that time, but she felt a little like she had then. Like she was playacting to fit in among a bunch of people she had nothing in common with. “Thank you. You look nice as well.”

Nice was a hilarious understatement. He was wearing a white button-down, rolled up to his elbows, and navy trousers that made his arse look like a work of art. 

Well. He’d obviously worked hard for that arse; he did deserve to show it off, she supposed.

He smiled crookedly, resting his elbow against the table, and Kate took a breath. The last thing she needed was for Anthony Bridgerton to pay any actual attention to her. His glances from across the room were enough to fuck with her head. If he was going to linger around her and tell her how beautiful she looked, things were going to fall apart quickly.

“You didn’t look like you were having a great time,” Anthony said, some of the artificial charm leaking from his voice, replaced with genuine curiosity. “I thought you might like some company.”

Kate met his eyes. He was watching her intently, as if he had honestly been concerned about her, and-

Fuck, he was good. It was no wonder that women were burning their knickers for him left and right. He had multiple tricks up his sleeve - if they didn’t fall for the swagger, he swung to personal interest.

“I’m having a great time,” she said with a shrug. “Thank you, though.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been standing in this corner half the night.”

Kate’s jaw tightened. No way he had been watching her that closely. It was true, though - Violet had pleaded with her to come, but she had hostess duties and could hardly cling to Kate’s side all evening. “I think there are other people here who are actually seeking your attention.”

He frowned. “Who, the people from my father’s company? It may not surprise you to learn that they’re all dicks.”

That did not surprise her, but Kate scoffed anyway. “I was thinking more like your girlfriend over there.”

Anthony’s eyes shot to where she had gestured - the pretty young brunette who was wearing a skintight black leather dress and flashing a truly impressive fuck me gaze.

“Siena’s not my girlfriend,” he said, seeming annoyed at the insinuation. “She’s a friend of the family-.”

“But you’ve slept with her, right?” Kate interrupted. He looked a little taken aback, and even she couldn’t account for why she said it with such disdain. “I’m friends with your mum. Don’t bother trying to bullshit me.”

Eyes growing heated, Anthony took a step toward her, until they were eye to eye and all she could smell was his citrusy cologne and the bite of whiskey on his breath. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you.”

“You know what my mum has told you about me. You’ve met me a few times now. Don’t bother trying to bullshit me, Kate. You’ve seen enough to decide not to give me a chance.”

Heat pricked at the back of her neck, something dangerous brewing in the static air between them. “Give you a chance to do what?”

“To get to know you,” Anthony murmured, his eyes dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “To spend time with you.”

Kate couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what else to do but laugh, at the ridiculousness of the situation, at the unbearable tension that strung them together. “You’re twenty-five.”

“Does that matter?”

“Do you even know how old I am?”

“You’re thirty-seven,” he said easily, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “And you’re smart, and funny, and fucking gorgeous, and I…god, Kate. If you had any idea, the dreams I’ve had of you.”

A shiver worked up her spine at the way he was looking at her. The face of a man dying to act out his filthiest fantasies. And something in her ached to let him.

Kate swallowed. This had already gone too far. She should have cut it off the second he approached her. “You need to stop.”

“Because you want me to? Or because you have some arbitrary reason why you think we shouldn’t?” he challenged. Reaching out, Anthony slid his large hand over her forearm, goosebumps erupting over her skin. “Tell me you don’t feel anything. Tell me you don’t want a single thing from me, and I’ll walk away and never bother you again.”

It was so easy. To just push the words past her lips, I don’t want you. You’re not worth what I could lose. Give up on this foolish notion of us, before it bites us both in the arse. He needed to hear it, and Kate would only be giving him the out that he would seek himself, sooner or later.

Instead, she brushed his hand off her arm, shaking her head minutely. “Good night, Anthony.”

And as she slipped around him, Kate forced herself not to look back.

[duhton]

PSA : this is important. if you read nothing else in relation to my blog, that's fine. but please read this i will not follow or interact with any writers of jamie dutton ( they will be blocked ) i will not follow or interact with anyone who writes with writers of jamie dutton ( exceptions made only if discussed ) i will not follow or interact with anyone who supports or so much as likes jamie dutton ( he's a pos and i don't want him anywhere near myself or beth ) i don't care about excuses like 'this is just a hobby' and 'he's a fictional character' if you are not familiar with the show or his character, that's fine. see below why i, personally, don't trust anyone who relates to or associates themselves with jamie dutton.

the biggest most unforgiveable action he ever did was force a hysterectomy on his at the time underage sister. beth asked him for help after discovering she was pregnant, and he took her to a reservation clinic for an abortion. the nurse at that clinic informed him, a then legal adult preparing to go to college to study law, that if they performed an abortion there, they would also sterilise her. he knew this, he agreed to it, without telling beth and without her consent. this is an irredeemable act in my opinion. it's disgusting, it's horrific, and it's traumatising.

after doing this to her, she understandably, hated his guts. and she, also understandably, treated him like shit because of it. i acknowledge that, but i don't care about his feelings or his well-being. he reaped the consequences of his decision and then, here's the kicker, he played the victim. he shamed her for her trauma and her very valid feelings about what he did to her, and he victimised himself by saying a. she asked him for help ( help, not a hysterectomy, as beth herself points out ) aka. it's her fault. b. that he regrets it every day ( he only regrets it because beth made his life hell in the aftermath and also he has never once ever actually shown any real remorse or even so much as apologised to her for what he did to her ) and c. told her to her face that he himself didn't want children because he didn't want to pass on the genes that made her ( implying that he wouldn't have wanted her to have children of her own anyway ) not that it would've mattered in the end, because he's not a blood dutton.

every act of violence we have ever seen from jamie dutton has been toward women. he hit beth hard enough to knock her to the floor. sure, beth hit him first. self-defence is self-defence. but then he talked to a journalist, spilled all of his father's secrets to said journalist, and when he realised his fuck up, he killed that journalist. also, a woman. most recently, he hit sarah across the face all because she said something he didn't like. he then called her, crying about how he didn't mean it, and that he's sorry. text book abuser behaviour.

i firmly believe that nothing would be different about the show if jamie dutton wasn't there during it. if it had been jamie to die instead of lee, literally nothing would change about the events of yellowstone from season one through to season five. he is useless, pathetic, spineless and disgusting as a character. he is a character on parr with the standard dni male characters of the rpc re. billy hargrove from stranger things. i've seen enough of excuses made in defence of jamie dutton, and it makes me sick. trying to justify what he did and then blaming beth for his short-comings is unacceptable, in my eyes. he is not a good person and he deserved to die. if you don't agree, i can't change your mind and i'm not going to bother trying. that's entirely up to you, kindly block me.

[juusauce]

Angel Baby (ft. Kurolisa) Pt. 3

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are all made up by the author and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

If you hate my ship, please stop reading; I don’t want to block readers, so please be respectful.

Ⓒjuusauce - do not copy, paste, or translate my works anywhere.

border @saradika

Part 2

She was selected as the face of the famous clothing line, Emerald, and unfortunately, Kazuhito Hyakuzawa is one of the investors of that company. So I had to make an appearance, just in case, he would be there.

We went to the event together so we got everyone’s attention. A lot of reporters flocked and bugged her about me, asking if I’m her boyfriend but she quickly denied me. What the hell? I irritatedly looked at her while she was convincing them that we didn’t know each other, explaining to them what happened. 

I frowned at every word that she said during the interview. Everything she said was all lies. You’re a great liar. Tsk! Try harder, Haiba.

I clenched my jaw. She was getting on my nerves, huh? Like, who the fuck would dare to insist that they didn’t know me? Even those who were newly introduced to me would claim that we’re friends. But there she is, telling everyone that I was a stranger to her. Damn it!

I couldn’t stand it anymore and speak. “She’s with me tonight so please excuse us.” I snaked my arms around her waist. I saw how she bit her lip as she looked away from the gaze of the crowd. It seemed like she was ashamed of something.

When I asked her if she was ashamed of me, I felt so nervous while I waited for her answer.

She bit her lower lip before she spoke, explaining herself. But I wasn’t convinced. Why do I feel like she doesn’t have a plan to tell everyone about the truth? I believed she wanted to tell everyone that I was a stranger to her.

I don’t know what exactly I should feel right now. Angry? Happy? Sad? Damn it!

My patience was running out. Anyway, she has a lot of ways to test my patience. It seemed like she was too expert on how to annoy me, to get my attention and…to drive me crazy. Fuck! Maybe her day wouldn’t be complete without getting into my fucking nerves, huh?

“Why were you denying us?” I blurted out.

“Us?” she mumbled, confusedly looking at me. “There’s nothing between us.”

I was stunned for a while, her words unexpectedly hurt me. What the heck?!

When I was about to speak, she asked me if I’m courting her. For the second time, it stunned me. 

Me? Courting her? That’s impossible!

I never did consider courting anyone. Anyway, courting was not my style. But Alisa was asking me if I was courting her? I laughed my ass off at the thought of it. She lowered her head as she played with her fingers. I held her chin, seeing guilt and embarrassment on her face, which made me feel more pleased.

It’s too fun playing with her, huh?

Actually, I don’t court. I’m not bragging about this but even though I won’t lift a finger, there are still a lot of women willing to throw themselves at me. So why would I bother to court them, right?

And besides that, I have a lot of experience when it comes to women. I started hookups when I was around 2nd-year of high school and the first girl I had experience with also wanted to explore.

Usually, people who were in hookup relationships were either curious or just wanted the experience. And I am cool with it, that was more convenient. After all, what’s the fucking sense of commitment? In the end, lovers won’t stay loyal to their partners. Just like what my mother did to my father. 

So fuck and go. Less drama and less headache. Besides, I can’t tolerate women’s strange behaviors.

Well, I can’t deny it, I find some women I bedded with were attractive but it fades after sex. Attraction doesn’t last long, it disappears after the release. And that’s why fuck buddies always work.

So to ask me if I’m courting her was fucking ridiculous! Alisa is too innocent to ask me about that. She didn’t have any clue. Poor Alisa.

“I heard you’re in a serious relationship. Is that true?” Atsumu probed.

I frowned.

“I mean this raising model icon, Alisa Haiba.”

Crap! I’ve been going to a lot of events and most of them were all Alisa’s gigs. And we had dinner out together a couple of times. I never thought about the consequences of it. It’s not really a problem but I just don’t want people to assume that I have a girlfriend even though I don’t have one.

“Who told you about that ridiculous rumor?”

He burst out laughing while I was annoyed at how he reacted. He was getting on my nerves. 

“Did you know there is a famous proverb, news has wings, the ground has ears?” I frowned at what he said.

“That’s nonsense!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Oh? So that was true?”

“It was just a rumor.” I languidly answered him, leaning my back on my chair.

“Aren’t you serious about her, are you?”

I shut my eyes and sighed before I opened my eyes, glaring at him. “Of course not!”

“Hmm?” He narrowed his eyes, keenly looking at me as I averted my eyes. He’s really prying something from me.

“But a lot of paparazzi saw you were with her.” When I was about to say something to defend myself, he immediately stopped me. “Don’t deny it, Tetsurou. Most of her events, you were there, so what could be the possible speculations people will think, right?”

I groaned. “Don’t make it a big deal, asshole!”

He laughed with humor, he looked so amused and I gritted my teeth as I thought of it. I wasn’t serious about her! Definitely, I wasn’t! I was just concerned about her, nothing more nothing less.

Part 4

[nyxyooni]

(2)Honey Ties

hello!! this is like a day and a half later than I had hoped it wouldve been but it is here!!! and since it is incredibly late i will be editing it after i get some sleep into me. enjoy this chapter!!! 

Prev/ Next

———

Admittedly, it was harder to notice when someone was staring at another person rather than at you but it was a skill that all seven of them had to learn. Nobody would get away with eyeing their father in even the slightest of disrespectful ways. Yeah, maybe Dick, Jason, and Tim dressed to truly impress whenever they attended events with their father to hopefully get some attention off him. They would do anything as long as it got the attention off their father.

Luckily for them, everyone was much more interested in the allusive Wayne children actually attending a public event than Bruce showing up. Barbara was right but then again when wasn't she? Rich people loved the spectacle of an event rather than the event itself. Naturally, if all the children that Bruce Wayne had, who were near impossible to spot in public, showed their faces in one place for all the upper-class fuck-faces of Gotham to look them over to their heart's content would garner a lot of attention.

If they had to fight back chills from hearing an older woman whisper to her friends about how, 'oh, the Wayne-Drake boy is just about legal, didn't you know,' then it was all worth it to not have those same women try and rub themselves over their father. Tim was raised by Rich Folk so he, unfortunately, knew how to handle these types of situations very well, Jason, on the other hand, was in charge of making sure Cass didn't shred some creeps throat with a fork and vice versa.

However, somewhere along the night, Steph joined the gala and offered an excellent distraction for Cass. With one potential threat neutralized and Dick had finished his rounds, quietly and swiftly stifling any raising suspicions as to why the host of the gala, the one, and only Bruce Wayne wasn't present, he put himself in charge of keeping Jason back.

"Where's Duke?" Sipping on a glass of champagne he swiped off a server on his way to where Jason had made himself comfortable on the shaded side of a column, Dick leaned against the other side of it. The one with proper lighting hitting it.

"Hm? Oh." Jason tightened his crossed arms, "he's with Bab's at the table near the entrance," not moving, voice miffed Jason answered. It was no secret that Jason absolutely despised galas. It wasn't the fact that a large number of strangers milled around a part of the manor, no, it was the fact that there were hardly ever any genuine people attending. Galas were places where rich old men could have their pissing contests, prey on younger women who most of the time were there as eye candy and decoration, and most importantly assholes desperately trying to get into Bruce's bed.

Jason remembered, very vividly, a time when he was brought to a gala where a man who was at least thirty years older than Bruce at the time was trying to get him to leave Jason with, 'some of the pretty girls I have around my house.' The only reason why Jason didn't claw the motherfucker's eyes out was because Bruce had picked him up, held him just a smidge too tight, and damn near snarled that they were leaving.

"That's good, I was worried that Duke would have to go at it solo but seeing as he has Bab's with him then it should all be good," taking another sip from his glass Dick shifted against the column, "leaving him alone would've been like leaving fresh kill out for hungry wolves..."

Groaning, Jason banged his head against the column pretty hard considering that Dick had managed to hear it, "I keep telling you that we should just kill the old hag," Carmila Ellsworth was a woman who had been preying on young boys ever since she turned thirty, she was one of those people who everyone knew belonged in jail but no one would ever see her behind bars. Jason had been crusading for her death ever since he heard her say some nasty shit to Dick while he was still very much underage.

Nodding, Dick sighed, "I want to too but Tim is in the process of swindling all the money he can from her and he can't do that if she's dead." Throwing the last bits of his drink back Dick set his glass on the tray of a server passing by, smiling at the man kindly. "After Tim's done, then you can kill her."

Whatever joy Jason had felt from the news was completely drained out of him when he saw a certain someone walk in the hall and of course, he wasn't the only one because almost immediately the volume of the place increased as people wasted no time.

Dick sucked in air, clicking his tongue when he saw some women practically run over to Bruce, "I hope Damian doesn't get spooked..." and it was a valid concern, the baby was on the sensitive side when it came to strangers. But then on the other hand if Damian started getting angsty then Bruce would have no choice but to leave...

Chewing on his bottom lip Jason couldn't stay still, pushing off the column he took a couple of steps towards where Bruce and Damian were steadily being swarmed but stopped in place. Sure he could go in there and scare all the fuckers away but... how many times had Bruce told him to behave? How many times did Bruce pull ever so slightly on his ear as he gently scolded him, 'Jay, you have to be careful,' as if he was judged for his own behavior and not Bruce.

"Damian looks cute..." Dick had to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting out laughing, it was obvious that Jason was trying to distract himself from all the people swarming their father and potentially stressing their baby brother into a fit. "Since when has he had a suit?" Nodding towards the baby's direction Jason crossed his arms again, "I mean, it's gotta be tailored, right?"

"Yup," walking to stand next to his brother Dick kept carefully trained eyes onto all of the people loitering around Bruce. He may not be as loud as Jason but boy does he have a pair of lungs on him. "Bruce had to it done for him..." tearing his eyes off his father and baby brother Dick found Jason standing so ram-rod straight and stiff that a strong enough breeze could shatter him into a million tiny pieces of spite, disgust and smoking protectiveness. "A while ago..."

"Hm, I see." Jason was practically eating the entirety of the inside of his cheeks. So really, how was Dick not supposed to poke fun at him? Especially when he was glaring with so much heat that his eyes seemed to almost glow red and a steady stream of spoke floated out from his nose.

"You know... it would work a lot better if you stood right next to Bruce—" Dick didn't get to finish whatever he was going to say and considering just how hard Jason had elbowed him, he wasn't going to finish anytime soon. Gasping as quietly as possible so as not to attract the wrong type of attention Dick tried to regulate his breathing, shit, did Jason break one of his fucking ribs?

"Shut up." Jason turned to glare down at him, it would've been very effective if Dick hadn't known him since he was a little kid and grew up with Alfred.

Grinning Dick looked over at Bruce, unlike before there were less people around their father, maybe because he had his baby son with that people became a little less interesting with... socializing with Bruce. A little bit of a shock considering how there was so much buzz about the brand new addition to the Wayne family, sure Bruce could take in disturbed teenagers all he wanted but maybe he shouldn't adopt a baby. Tabloids from just about everywhere kept repeating the same bullshit for almost two months, 'Bruce Wayne is not suitable for raising a baby.'

Yet, even with so much hubbub from the public, there wasn't all too much traffic around Bruce and Damian, great, maybe it was destined to be an uneventful night. Perfect for not only them but also their father, it was also a rare night, no one had hit on Bru—oh no.

Whatever smile was just about to be stamped onto Dick's face disappeared the moment some man leaned into Bruce's personal space, probably whispered some bullshit into their father's ear as he held their baby brother—

"Ja—" It was too late, Dick was still trying to put himself together physically and Jason was already walking toward Bruce and the stranger.

How hard was it to have a decent night in one of the most wicked places in the world.

[acotarharlot]

A game for two (part 2)

Part two for my lovelies <3 you are all so unbelievably kind x I’m still learning how to use tumblr lol so pls be patient with me x

~

After the…interesting events of that morning. You had been in your room, now just reading some of the books that Nesta had recommended. You had certainly experimented in the lifetime of events you had lived. Different men women, positions, settings. But these books were enough to make you blush - which was saying something. You had needed the distraction, feeling like it was you who had been too bold. In all honestly you felt it was justified. It’s not like you had flashed him. You brushed it off, things would just roll over anyway - like they usually did. You felt sad as the book came to and end, aside from the ✨Spiciness ✨ of it, you had actually really loved the romance. You hadn’t really been exposed to an unconditional love. Of course there were your parents, but you hadn’t felt like they were a good example. Your father was a cold man, who never spared an emotion even for his children. The only reason for your mother living was an invisible bond- not a real love. You had wanted someone to love you because they chose you, not because the cauldron thought you suitable. You got up, the library would have some more reading material. Usually you would have opted to hangout with any of the inner circle or visit into Velaris. You actually had many hobbies too, being a painter much like Feyre but you preferred a different art style. Another reason you liked her, she gave a different perspective. As much as you loved your family dearly, spending 500 years with them and being locked under the mountain for 50 years - you kind of hope for some new perspectives and people.

Your combat training also being a big thing for you, you had to train in secret as it wasn’t approved for females to learn such things. And if your father had of found out, there would have been vicious consequences. But when he passed you were able to learn, with your brothers and Azriel. Which had made you appreciate it all the more, and want to excel at it. Be better then them. You had began the journey to the library. It hadn’t taken you too long, with the ability to winnow. Walking down to the section you had wanted.

So focused on the variety in front of you, you hadn’t heard someone else enter your vicinity. A cough brought your attention to them.

“Oh, Hello, Azriel” you smiled sweetly to him.

He frowned in response. “How is your leg?”

Not visible in the simple gown you wore, you looked at him and said “completely healed, thank you… for checking up on me”

Eyeing down your leg, as if he could see through your clothes, then bringing his eyes to meet yours, leaving a trail of goosebumps, following his gaze up your body.“That was unfair, in the training ring today”

In reality you had felt anxious about it, after your brother calling you out for it.

“I think it was totally fair, I mean you never know who you might have to fight some day” you looked smugly at him.

He took a step forward, and you one back against the bookshelf. “You always have something to retort with don’t you? Definitely Rhys sister.

Squinting your eyes at him, you relay that he got the ability of sarcasm and wit from you as a matter of fact. He chuckled and began to lift his hand, the close proximity of him to you made you sweat. His face so close you could see it in complete detail. So perfectly symmetrical, defined features. You had never been in a position like this with him. Even if you had wanted to be. Mind racing with all these thoughts, what if he would kiss you? Or touch you? Or anything. This was until he grabbed the book next to your head. Smirking down, at your utter shock and displacement.

“If you want to play dirty then we can.”

And then he vanished into the shadows.Taking a minute to actually comprehend what the actual fuck just happened. You had been in love with this man since teenage-hood, in awe of him, never making a move. And you show the slightest bit of boob and he acts like that. Maybe things wouldn’t just be brushed under the rug. What did he actually mean by that?

Turning around you see the missing book that had been all perfectly displayed moments ago for you’re choosing. Shocked once again, you realised the shadow singer had taken your favourite book, of course not the book you were there for. But you weren’t sure if that was him warning you, that he was knowledgeable about you. Or if it was simply just a coincidence.

Either way this was very unfamiliar.

A game you had no idea how to play with him.

What had you just started?

And did you like it?

[mindofharry]

Be My Baby

In which Prince harry and Princess Y/N are set to marry and are more than happy about it. They celebrate in more ways than one.

AHHHH!!! ITS HERE!!! FINALLY! Prince harry is my guilty pleasure. pls treat him with the respect he deserves. these two are officially my favourite people ever.

fluff & FILTHY SMUT!!!!!! feedback is welcome as always! <3

“Princess Y/N is arriving soon, Harry” Anne, the queen of england said putting down her tea. Harry is the prince, next in line for the throne - Marriage is very important to the throne and for the throne. Anne has been very strict about that, preparing Harry for marriage. Princess Y/N of wales, is who Harry is meeting with today. Hopefully, to settle a deal. Harry has never cared for marriage or for a partner. He’s a lone wolf as his family would describe. But if he wants to be king, he needs to marry. And Y/N is looking like the only option at the moment.

Harry nodded putting the paper down and looking up at his mother. He pursed his lips leaning back in his seat.

“Is something the matter, dear?”

Harry shook his head “No, mother. Just tired” he lied, reassuring his mother. Anne didn’t press any further just got one of the servants to pour her more tea. She could read harry very well, she knew her son better than he knew himself. Y/N is perfect for him. Even if they do not marry, she will be a life long friend. But anne is sure they will marry within the year.

And Queen Anne is never wrong.

Y/N was late.

Harry was beginning to become bored, don’t get him wrong he loves his sister and mother. But he can only take so much. All he wanted to do was to be curled up with a book in the abandoned side of the castle - no one except for the young prince had been there. It was locked up for years before harry found the key, it was like a whole new world in there. It was dirty, messy, filthy - just how harry liked it. He decorated a room in there, and it’s like his safe place from all of this. All of these stupidly important responsibilities. His safe haven.

They were meant to be meeting, talking about their futures together. If his mother thought this was what was best for the country, then harry would push through. He hadn’t see Y/N in years, meeting when they were both much younger. No pressure, just the two kids playing in the fields. Y/N was beautiful, so care free. Harry wished he was like Y/N - the only think she seemed to care about were the moon, the sun and the stars. They never saw each other again after that, they have both obviously seen each other in papers and at events. But never talked. Y/N didn’t know why, neither did harry. They weren’t on the same chapter in life. But now, they’re both willing to do what is best for their country.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad marrying a soon to be king.

A servant comes into the dining room bowing at the styles family. Harry waits for him to speak - except a tall girl, bumps into him making the servant fall foward. Y/N (the tall girl) giggled, before clearing her throat and bowing at the styles family. Harry smirked and leaned back. Anne was standing a smile on her face as she saw her soon beaming for the first time in months.

“Your highness” Y/N said bowing, nearly falling down again. But she grinned covering it up. Her dress was long and tight - her mother made her wear it. She would much rather be in a nice flowy dress in the woods right now. Maybe reading about the sun. But her mother needed her to do this, so Y/N would.

Y/N’s father died a couple of months back, it was sudden and no one saw it coming. So her mother needed her to marry as Y/N is the oldest of four girls. They needed a man of the house and once Y/N married, harry would be that man. Y/N didn’t like that one bit. She could be the man of the house if she wanted to. She didn’t understand why they needed a man to pay for things, to do stuff for them. Women are just as capable. But there was no fighting with Y/N’s mother. And Y/N knew she was having a rough time without her husband and Y/N’s dad.

“Princess Y/N, it’s good to have you here” Anne said, as a servant helped her back into the seat. Y/N had the same treatment but she looked rather uncomfortable. She was seated infront of harry, which was glad of. It’s a nice view, she’ll admit. He had grown into his baby face, she thought. And that hair. Fuck, that hair.

“Thank you for inviting me, your highness” Y/N said smiling softly. “Your castle is amazing” She said and Anne nodded pointing around at the paintings. “I actually just got these new paintings in from a new artist in rome. Just beautiful, right harry?” Anne said, giving harry the look. His mother is giving him that look a lot recently, Anne just wants what is best for him and harry just doesn’t seem to care at all. It’s like he’s away from reality. In another universe half of the time. Anne was hoping Y/N would be able to bring him back down to earth, but from her entrance in here - Harry and Y/N are a lot more similar than she thought.

“Yeah, they’re beautiful” Harry said staring at the girl infront of him. Y/N blushed under his stare. She had never felt anything like this before for a man. Her stomach was in knots and her cheeks were getting hotter by the second.

The dinner was nice. It was quiet with Y/N trying to keep up the small talk - Anne was impressed with that. Everyone she had invited to the palace would only talk when spoken to, but Y/N had a certain way about her. She had manners of course, the kindest soul, but she talked. She could talk all day if she was allowed. She just never ran out of things to say. But the food was really good, so Y/N was quieter than usual. Harry had one question: did they feed her in the city? The way she was eating was like she had been starved for years.

“This is amazing” Y/N said putting her fork down. Anne grinned at the girl nodding to herself. She had found a keeper.

“Harry, why do you show Y/N around? She’s going to be staying here for the next couple of weeks” Anne announced and Y/N nearly choked on her water, she tapped her chest.

“I am?-“

“she is?”

Harry and Y/N both spoke at the same time, Anne tutted and ordered the servant to fill up her wine.

“Your mother and I have arranged it. Everything you have is here already, you’ll have your own quarters too. Your horse is being transported down here as we speak” Anne said making new room for arguing. “Y/N your mother said she would be happy for us to host you here if the dinner went accordingly. And i think it went more than accordingly” Anne continued sipping her wine.

Harry and Y/N looked to each other their eyes both wide with amusement and shock. Only their parents would do this.

“Now, run along. Gemma and I have some talking to do” Anne ordered, the servants came and helped the princess and prince up following them out of the dinning room. Y/N was rather uncomfortable with the servants being everywhere, she had a lot more freedom at home.

“Hey, you wanna do something fun?” She asked and harry raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Hey! Intruder” Y/N yelled and the servants looked around quickly, harry was startled when Y/N laughed loudly taking his hand in hers and running down the hallway towards the abandoned part of the castle. Harry grinned and laughed loudly as they ran together.

This girl, he thought.

The door was locked. Harry brought a key out of his pocket and Y/N laughed loudly making harry shush her as he unlocked the door. Quickly they made themselves into the abandoned quarters and giggled to themselves when they heard the servants feet making their way to this side of the castle - but immediately they turned away, knowing that they weren’t allowed on this side of the palace.

Harry was distracted with locking the door, but Y/N was amazed. She looked around at this place and couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her. This place is really fucking amazing, she thought. It’s obviously abandoned, that man she could tell - but it was still so beautiful. Paintings, upon paintings and books at every end. There was high ceilings and stained glass windows giving a nice hew to the room. Y/N brought her hands to her hips and spinned around her dress moving as she did.

“This place is fucking amazing!”

Harry laughed and finally got the door locked popping the key back in his pocket. He moved beside the beautiful girl and didn’t say anything. But Y/N knew.

“You come here often?” She asked and Harry nodded.

“Found it a couple years ago. Think it was my fathers” He said and Y/N sighed looking around.

“It’s beautiful” you’re beautiful, he wanted to say but he bit his lip instead walking in the direction of his safe haven. Y/N quickly caught up placing a hand on his, harry flinched at the touch. This definitely wasn’t allowed. If anyone saw they’d have to marry immediately. But nobody was here, he reminded himself. And with that he squeezed Y/N’s hand a little tighter.

Harry opened the door the room he had been coming to for years now. It had a few chairs, a huge window with curtains on each side, a fire place in the middle and blankets and pillows surrounding the room. Y/N smiled to herself as she saw harry become more himself. It was like this room allowed him to be himself.

“You come in here often?”

Harry nodded making himself comfortable on one of the pillows, Y/N soon followed sitting very close to the prince. Harry had no complaints at all.

“I come here most days. When i need to take a breath, escape my mother and the stupid royal family” Harry said and Y/N giggled leaning in to harry, their lips close.

“I can think of many ways we can escape reality. Why don’t we try one of them?”

Harry let out a sigh and placed his hand on Y/N shoulder, it fell down her arm to her waist. Harry had been with people before, he had kissed and pleasured many, many people. But never did he feel like this. He felt as if she was a goddess, and she would brake it the touch of his finger. She looked almost fragile, like a painting.

“Kiss me, Harry” She ordered and harry wasted no time, placing his lips on hers.

Her lips are soft and gentle, just as harry had expected. He moved his hands up her hips to her shoulders again, Y/N moaned letting harry's tongue into her mouth. Harry groaned and pulled away smirking at that flushed look on her face. He loved it.

Y/N bit her lip standing up, unzipping her dress. She turned around, the only thing she had was a small night dress and corset. Harry cursed under his breath standing up behind her. Everything felt so intimate. They both felt a lot of things, Y/N never wanted this to stop. Harry hugged her from behind, kissing the back of her neck. After a few seconds, Y/N turned around in his hold, holding his gaze. She began to take off her corset and night dress, now bare. She felt confident in Harry's glare, he made her feel good. He sucked in a breath looking down at her perky breasts, her nipples hard from the temperature of the room. He made a mental note to put the fire on after this, Harry knew you two would be in here for as long as you possibly could. He knew his mother would be beyond pissed that they had gone off alone together.

Harry placed a hand on Y/N’s breast, teasing her nipple with his index finger. His rings were cold on her skin making her whimper. Harry smirked at the sound, lowering his head and taking her nipple in his mouth his tongue swirling the nub of it. Y/N’s hands found harrys hair and she tugged on it hard.

“Fuck” She cursed and harry let go with a pop, again he smirked at the sight of the princess. So undone and flustered. Harry absolutely loved it. Holding her gaze, he began to undress unbuttoning his shirt and pants. Heat rushed to his penis, as Y/N watched him undress.

“Want to have you in my mouth” Y/N said, getting on her knees. She knew she would have bruises by the end of this - but she knew it would be worth.

“Don’t make me cum” Harry ordered, Y/N just smirked and pulled his underwear down almost drooling at the sight of his red, cock full of pre-cum. What a sight, she thought. And it’s fucking huge. Bigger than she thought that’s for sure.

She hummed, pumping harry’s rock hard cock. His head flew back, a moan filling the room. Harry wished her hair was pinned back, he needed some to grip. He took both of his hands and gripped the side of her head. Y/N spit on his cock, keeping eye contact with harry.

“Shit”

Y/N licked the tip, running her tongue over the slit, tasting the saltiness of his pre cum. Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“You taste so good” She moaned, finally taking his full cock into her mouth. Her hands began pumping the base of the shaft, as she sucked him off. Harry moaned, but tapped the side of her head.

“Need to be in you, no more foreplay” He said and Y/N pouted whipping her lips.

“But i like having you in my mouth” Y/N argued, harry smirked pecking her lips, tasting himself on them. He hummed in agreement. “Next time, let me fuck you” He said kissing her neck, Y/N sighed and placed her lips on his before crawling over to the fireplace - there was a white sheet layed out. Y/N lay down and harry kissed down her stomach, teasingly kissing her thighs. “You’re definitely wet enough for me, aren’t you princess?” Harry said slapping her pussy, Y/N moaned and nodded.

Slowly, harry thrusted into Y/N making them both whimper. “Fuck, you feel so good” Harry said, kissing your lips. Y/N just moaned, gripping his back and putting her legs around his waist. Harry began to move faster, his hands either side of Y/N.

“Faster” Y/N said and harry complied, pounding into her. The moans coming out of the both them were enough to make them both cum within seconds. And that’s basically what happened. They both climaxed, harry falling down into Y/N’s chest. Y/N only felt pleasure and ecstasy.

Shit, her mother picked a good one.

***

“Fuck” Y/N panted into harry’s mouth as he took against the wall. They were left alone for ten minutes, and this happened. They were looking at the new paintings and architecture Anne had got, browsing around the hall. Harry had convinced the servant that his mother was calling and of course the poor servant couldn’t dismiss it, so they had a good ten minutes while the servant searched for the queen.

Harry pounded into her the paintings on the wall knocking loudly, Y/N laughed loudly making harry put a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t want to attract any attention, do we princess?”

They continued their hot and very messy quicky and then made their way to the gardens. Y/N and harry soon found that the gardens would be another safe haven. Beautiful flowers and when the sun is shining a beautiful place to sit and relax.

They couldn’t wait to marry - seen as harry wants Y/N in his bed, all the time. They fuck like bunnies, it’s amazing how they haven’t been caught as of yet. When they get their own palace, harry will christen to the whole place. They’ll fuck in every corner. Every room. Every library and garden.

Y/N looked at harry smiling as he lay on the grass. No one was around as the servant hadn’t arrived back. Y/N quickly looked around before pulling harry into what she could only assume was a place to keep all the fruit and veg away from foxes. It was closed off and you could lock it from the inside.

“Jesus christ Y/N” Harry mumbled kissing your neck as you leaned back on a bench.

“Another round?” You asked with innocent eyes.

“Another round” Harry confirmed lifting up the bottom of her dress and pushing her down so she was flat on the bench. He kissed up her legs, biting down on her thigh.

He pulled up her night gown and saw her bare pussy, wet and glistening just waiting for him. He could cum at the sight. He moaned kissing her thigh, teasing her.

Y/N tugged at harry’s hair, giving him a warning. “Stop, teasing” She pouted and harry smirked finally making his way towards your pussy.

Y/N closed her eyes when she felt harrys breath against her core. “so wet, princess” Harry said, the vibrations going right through her body making her jerk up a little. Harry loved the affect he had on her, the littlest thing would make her jolt with pleasure.

Harry spread her legs a little more, his tongue licking up her slit. Y/N’s tugged on harry’s hair, moaning loudly. Harry watched her unfold becoming so flushed, but Y/N looked so very beautiful in this light.

He pressed his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue up and down. Your hips moved with his tongue movements, harrys hands made their way to your hips trying to get them to stay in place. You wrapped your legs around his shoulders and began to shake and moan.

“Fuck me” You murmured coming down from your high.

“Oh, i will princess”

The days went on and more fucking occurred. Again they fucked like absolute bunnies. They were sure everyone knew by now, but the servants were way too afraid to say anything. Anne would have everyone’s head if she found out what they were doing.

“I can’t wait to marry you” Harry said laying down beside her in their safe haven. Y/N smirked rolling over on her side. He was so beautiful. His eyes, his freckles, that one dimple that came out when he laughed. She was so lucky to call him hers.

“You just want to have me in your bed everyday” She said and harry pretended to think about. “Hmmm, yeah” He said, making Y/N laugh loudly before pecking his lips.

“Can’t believe you’re mine” Harry said pushing her into his chest. Y/N grinned pecking his neck and looking up at him.

“Forever”

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Okay but I would LOVE to here your heretical opinions on Padame if you ever want to share them or any of your other views on star wars prequel characters. Your character analysises are INCREDIBLE and really fun to read <3

Oh boy, are you sure about that? Well, the ask has been made so here, we, gooooooooooooooo!

Padme’s one of those strange characters who appears as one thing but in actuality is quite different. Because she appears as the first thing, and it’s something people really like, most people accept that at face value and if she’s not always consistent--well, she came from a series of screenplays written by George Lucas.

Padme comes across as a very noble, kind, and courageous character who is also quite politically savvy. At fourteen, against all odds, she saves her planet from invasion when the Senate did nothing, secured herself an ally in the chancellor (nevermind him being secretly Palpatine), and even after relinquishing her title as queen remains a major player in the senate for years and is seen as enough of a threat to warrant several assassination attempts (one so bad she has to be guarded by Jedi and sent home to Naboo for several weeks). 

And I’m not saying she’s not any of these things. Padme is very courageous, is one of those odd politicians who... believes she stands for what she believes in (more on this later), and has a remarkable political career.

However, she’s also romantic to the point of being completely and utterly delusional, self-centered, and frankly a little nuts.

(Yeah, you knew you were waiting for me to say something terrible, WEREN’T YOU?!) Right, so what’s wrong with Padme?

Well, if you look closely at a few of her choices, the ones that never seemed to make much sense, then you can look at her other choices and... Well, it all sort of comes together. 

That’s right, I’m talking about “Attack of the Clones” and “Revenge of the Sith”.

Attack of the Clones we have the very lackluster and strange romance of Anakin and Padme.

On Anakin’s end, his infatuation with Padme makes a lot of sense. She was part of the party that rescued him from slavery, she was very kind to him, and was the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life. Ten years later, always having harbored a crush on her memory and keeping it alive through whatever news he hears of her, she’s grown into a very beautiful woman and Anakin is by chance introduced back into her life. I get why Anakin falls head over heels for Padme, I’ll get more into this later and how their relationship has some major issues (aside from the obvious), but I understand why he marries this girl out of nowhere even when it could get him thrown out of the Jedi. (As an aside, since this is more of a Padme post, I think Anakin was spurred on in part also by the death of his mother and his massacre of the Tusken Raiders. Anakin’s life was flipped upside down in a very short amount of time, one of his great emotional ties is suddenly gone, and I think he has this internal crisis that culminates in him deciding to marry Padme. Without this, he and Padme may have become lovers, but I don’t think he’d marry her).

On Padme’s end... it’s a little less clear. Anakin has grown into an attractive young man, yes. Take out all of George Lucas’ dialogue, and maybe Padme finds Anakin very charming. However, Padme secretly marries a Jedi she’s known for three weeks. Now, I’d be a bit more forgiving of this, love is love and we can’t always think rationally, but there’s some other things.

Unlike Anakin, Padme hasn’t been spending the past ten years romanticizing her memory of Anakin Skywalker. When they met in Phantom Menace, Anakin was not only five years younger than her, he was nine-years-old. To fourteen-year-old Padme, Anakin was not then dating material and was instead this poor boy in slavery. Which means while Anakin has build up justifying this rapid romance, Padme really doesn’t. What this means is that her romance with Anakin reads a lot more like a romantic fantasy. Cute dashing bodyguard shows up, saves her life, through contrived circumstances they’re sent back to beautiful Naboo where they spend time together, only cute bodyguard is a Jedi and can’t marry, which makes their love excitingly taboo! 

Everything Padme does, before and after this point, lends itself to this overdeveloped sense of romance. Padme wants to be whisked away, wants to have this secret unsustainable marriage with a man who cannot be married, she’s in love with the idea of being in love. Given how little time she spends with Anakin, how little they really know of each other, I’d say she’s more in love with the idea of Anakin than Anakin Skywalker himself. And this isn’t a bad thing necessarily, or at least not a grievous flaw, however, that’s not all. 

Padme chooses to marry Anakin knowing he murdered an entire village of men, women, and children. She marries him almost immediately after the massacre of the Tusken Raiders. Note, she does not learn about this later and have to come to terms with it, she is right there. She is on Tatooine with him and sees him go to do it and then return. 

Padme doesn’t take it... particularly well, that said, she also seems to shove it under the carpet immediately. She, first, marries Anakin within days after this event. She second, never really has a “holy fuck, Anakin” conversation with him. And worst yet, she never confesses to anyone else. Padme is a hypocrite and willing to sacrifice everything she believes in, albeit I believe unwittingly, for her romantic fantasy.

She tells no one about what happened. An entire village was brutally massacred, those who are already poor and oppressed and have no voice, by a man who is supposed to be a protector of all people in the galaxy. I’m sorry, Anakin, but if Padme was who you think she is then she would have to tell the Jedi Order at the very least if not the Republic. Instead, there are no consequences, only Anakin’s descent into guilt and madness as three years pass with it festering in the back of his mind.  Padme does not stand for the poor, for the people, or for justice. She only does so when it does not conflict with her own interests, i.e. her actions regarding the invasion of Naboo. More, I do not believe Padme has the introspection to realize this about herself, she never realizes that not narking on Anakin was very very very bad. Three years pass and she lives the whirlwind romantic fantasy that she and Anakin both want. They’re secret lovers/spouses, meeting up at the oddest hours of the day and... This is three years of this ridiculous affair. Three years to come to terms with the fact that something must change. And then the kicker, Padme gets pregnant, and this is where the extra delusional comes in.

The child should have been a signal of the end. There can be no more secret now. Padme is having a child, presumably out of wedlock, and even if space is very very very different from our society I imagine this would be quite the scandal that could even get her thrown out of the senate. I believe Padme mentions as much to Anakin. More, Anakin is no longer a lover, he is now a father. What’s supposed to happen now? They raise this secret child, instructing them that Anakin is only a father in private, never in public?

Anakin and Padme briefly flirt with the idea of Anakin leaving the order. Anakin even wants to do so, but it... never happens. Now is the time it absolutely should happen. Yes, Anakin’s a big part of the war effort, but he could at least start talking to the Order and they could decide if it’d be a slow or fast exit. 

My theory, Padme’s too in love with the fantasy. Anakin leaving means he’s no longer a Jedi, it means he’ll come to Naboo, be unemployed and be around. Anakin visiting will no longer be this romantic, fraught with the danger of being found out, passionate, short lived event for Padme. It’ll become real life. He’ll be a real, ordinary man, she’ll be a real, ordinary, woman, and that spark of romance will be gone.

I don’t think Padme wants that. 

Which is why, even with the child on the way, we see Anakin and Padme continue to play out this ridiculous secret lovers fantasy. And then, of course, Anakin goes insane off screen.

Padme is told that, once again, Anakin has murdered dozens of children. Of course, this is a terrible thing to be told and she can’t process it. She needs to find Anakin and confront him, but people always criticize Lucas here and feel it’s out of character for Padme to have run to Anakin in sobbing hysterics with no plan of enacting vengence.

Frankly, I think it’s very in character. She did nothing about the Tuskens, remember? I think at the end of the day, the murder of the Jedi children means very little to her. What hurts Padme the most is that the fantasy of Anakin she married is not real. The Anakin she married would never murder the Jedi children, betray the Republic, or do any of what he’s done. And I think Padme only has that strong, iron, will when she knows the world she’s in. With the Trade Federation, her stance was obvious. Her people were being oppressed, butchered, and invaded. In this case, the world she knew no longer exists.

The Republic is gone, perhaps hasn’t existed in thirteen years, as it turns out the senator who had always been her biggest supporter was a Sith Lord. The Jedi are gone, children murdered by Anakin while those in the field are picked off by their own clone soldiers. Padme’s world has fallen apart, and I think that makes it much harder for her to be the girl we saw in Phantom Menace. In time, perhaps, she would have joined the rebellion but... I do think Padme might have also given into despair.

So, yeah, that’s Padme for you.

[bkdotblog]

"RSVPlease," S3 E8

The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City Season 3 Episode 8 Recap

My Title:  “Danna...?"

My rating: 2.6 out of 5 my father's obituaries

Support for Lisa Barlow: Very strong

<><><>

AHH! We open the scene with Lisa Barlow's terrifying sons. The family is sitting around their black and white kitchen. Lisa, perhaps sensing the presence of Satan, suggests that a better relationship with God might make their lives "a little easier." The older one demurs: There are many ways to be spiritual, mother. You can meditate, for example, or run your own YA hair gel company.

The youngest one vibrates with malevolent intentions. Lisa's husband is also there. He is the largest of the four but offers the bare minimum in terms of presence.

Lisa, Jen, and Whitney hit the slopes. Must we see winter sports in every episode? Jen and Lisa barely make it down the hill on skis. Whitney is deft on a snowboard. They meet up on some bluff overlooking the most gorgeous mountains God has ever made.

"Heather escorted me from her house the other day," Whitney says, due to Whitney's defending Lisa in their ongoing squabble. Emphasis on escort: Whitney says Heather "physically turned me around." A little dramatic, but that's our girl. So why is Heather offering Whit soprano in the Gay chorus?

Hearing that Whitney came to the defense of her character, Lisa looks like she is going to burst into tears of joy.

All three women share grievances with Heather's behavior as of late. Even Whitney, who doesn't have anything specific to blame Heather for other than not being supportive in her hilling journey. "I just shared with you that I've had all this trauma that I'm working through," Whitney says, "And when I have stirred the pot or been messy, that's how I learned how to behave." The other women are like... OK...

We transition next to Chez Shah, where it appears Jen's husband or the show's fabulous producers are gonna go ahead and host a barbecue for the househusbands. It's a "no-wife zone!" Shah declares. Thanks for letting me know because I am only interested in wife zones, and am too happy to skip this sequence!!

Who the SWEET fuck cares?

Who the FUCK is "Ernesto, Danna's husband"????

????????

OK, let's move on...

In another snow-white kitchen across town, Meredith is making a "little snack" with her sister, niece, and nephew, who are in town from Chicago. There is nothing more important to Meredith than fahmlae, pronounced with a Chicago accent that twinges on Scottish. Meredith's megatwink son Brooks loomed large on the first two seasons of the show but has since been off in New York. And we mustn't Marks' invisible daughter, who may very well be in the room with us right now.

This is how many of them it takes to cut a single lemon:

Meredith recalls herself recalling the traumatic events of her past year — her father dying, her nephew's mental health issues — at the Season Two reunion. But how lovely now that the family can gather together happily to cut a single lemon! Lisa Barlow's God is good.

The children are dismissed from the scene as Meredith commands them to take a place of white bean salad to "Unkie" who is upstairs, and she is alone with her sister Myra, pronounced Meera. The two discuss Myra's son, who last year attempted suicide gruesomely. Meredith has a very purely emotional moment in her confessional.

But the conversation quickly turns to Lisa thank GOD. Apparently their husbands convened at their all-male no homo hang and Lisa's husband shared concerns about Meredith's attacks at Lisa. Meredith of course is on the defensive. For a woman who famously refuses to engage, I think Meredith enjoys when she feels forces are conspiring against her. Or maybe not. I actually don't think about Meredith very much at all, if I'm being Frank N. Honest!

Heather Gay is Bottega Veneta boots on the ground at her first choir rehearsal. At the Gay Choir, everybody who is not a woman wearing luxury Italian-made fashions is a Tom of Finland drawing come to life.

When Good Angie picks up Jen and takes her to rehearse, she gossips about the chatter at a recent spin class: apparently Danna (remember Danna?) said that Jen went off on Bad Angie and was "bullying" her at the choir auditions. If there is one thing that will cause Jen to fly into a rage, it's accusing her of flying of rages.

Danna reveal:

Jen Shah reaction:

(As a side note: I love love love this confessional look on Jen as she is pleading her innocence in a federal fraud trial. "Would a guilty woman wear this?")

Heather is wearing a little cropped green vest over body con dress that I think looks great. Bad Angie, Whitney, and Lisa arrive, all separately. Other people are also there. Everybody sits in a great big circle and the hunky choir director makes a speech.

When everyone stands to do vocal warm ups, Heather takes Lisa aside to, it seems, thank her for coming and salvage what is left of their good feelings toward one another. But then in the confessional, Heather says this:

BK's Take: Heather is quickly losing credibility for me. We mustn't forget: She has admitted to mean-girlhood in the past. And at the risk of applying an overly simplistic and misogynistic behavioral analysis as having "mean girl" energy, Heather is committing the number one act of high school clique leaders since time immemorial: Fault finding with someone's character on the basis of not vibing with them. Despicable!

We reach the cliff before this commercial break when Lisa cuts to the bone of the argument and asks Heather if she likes her. Remember 10 seconds ago, when Heather said she hated her?

She pauses for one hundred years and one full commercial break before she responds:

Uhh... kinda, mama!

BK's Take, Evergreen: Lisa is right!

They go around in a few more circles before addressing the rumors spewed against Lisa at the Garbage Whore Party a few episodes ago. Whitney is brought into the fray -- a crucial misstep in deescalating any sort of conflict, as Whitney is volatile when she's in the process of hilling. While another voice is added to this din, the rest of the choir continues to rehearse mere feet away.

At one point Heather just... walks away! And rejoins the chorus. This is how this particular fight ends: With a song. From the varying pious bellies of the Mormon Church's misfits and outcasts:

(Eagle eyes will notice Lisa Barlow is in her defensive stance)

What is the climate in Salt Lake City? At the beginning of the episode we were on the powder white slopes, and now Jen is meeting Good Angie at a rooftop pool? I hope I don't sound foolish but will anybody explain this to me? Simultaneously, the episode's breakout star DANNA visits Meredith at home, assembling a common formation to this franchise: Doubles screaming matches, where each team is comprised of a housewife and friend-of.

Last ep we had Good Angie and Jen against Bad Angie and kind of Whitney. Now it seems like reigning champs Good Angie and Jen have advanced to their next challenge: Danna and kind of Meredith.

But first, Jen appears in her villainry talking about how the stress of being indicted for fraud has her craving a vacation...

...and I brace myself for some dumb ass budget locale knowing Jen can't leave the country and doesn't have a ton of money anyway, and then she reveals where she will be taking everybody, and are you ready ladies?, grab a big tote and a single carry-on duffle, because las amigas, we are flying down to San Diego town!

It gets worse, because they're staying in Good Angie's friend's house. "And it's close to the beach!" she says, beaming.

BK's Take, Peeved: We the people have had enough of these AirBnb ass vacations. Please take us somewhere where the ladies don't have to share bathrooms — I am begging! Hotels are FINE! Bravo can figure it out. They do it in Potomac all of the time!

Good Angie (who is becoming Mid Angie... she's been put on watch) and Jen decide to break the news to Meredith by FaceTime, assembling a back drop of inflatable palm trees to trick her into thinking they're somewhere tropical. (Like San Diego.)

"For all she knows, we're in Hawaii right now," Good Angie says of their setup:

When Meredith reveals who is with her, Jen's face cracks.

Good Angie lists off the ladies who be going to San Diego — basically the main cast plus herself — before Jen cuts in. "I would invite you Danna, except I heard you were talking shit, girl."

Danna respond plainly that she doesn't like how Jen talks to people. Maybe "bullying" is not the right word, but it seems to me like Danna takes issue with the way Jen can shout down people or escalate an argument very quickly. Jen responds by hanging up and then... stomping out of the pool and yelling?

Poor Jen. Looks like she could use a vacation. Luckily for her, we'll all be together in San Diego soon — friends, lovers, enemies, bloggers, Mid Angie, and Danna...? Thank you for reading! –BK

<><><>

Gay Imagery

I really loved this fit on Hedda. If you are someone feeling alienated by Heather's fake ass behavior this season, please get in touch with my support group.

[iwaslut]

— 𝖌𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖘

this is my piece for @karasunosimp’s “it’s raining milk” collab!! this is my first time ever participating in a collab, so thank you for letting me join <3

milf!sasha braus

fem!reader, nsfw content, large age gap, wlw, oral sex.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡ 18+ CONTENT

Your job as a babysitter had quite a few perks.

One: The pay is good. You were rather reluctant to resort to babysitting as a part-time job but, desperate times call for desperate measures, especially when you’re trying to earn some form of income while putting yourself through your last year of University. So you were pleasantly surprised when you had been offered more than you normally would be compensated when babysitting.

Two: The kid you babysit, Kaya, is an absolute angel. Due to her rather withdrawn nature, Kaya typically keeps herself busy by quietly reading in her room or watching the television in the living room. As time has passed and Kaya’s slowly become accustomed to your presence, she no longer seems as apprehensive to interact with you as she once was. It’s obvious to you that she’s a good kid. Although she’d rather keep to herself, she’s always polite when you converse and sometimes she’ll even ask if you want to join her and watch a show together. She has pretty good taste in shows, you think as you watch “The Winx Club” together.

Three: Miss Braus is one of the hottest fucking women you’ve seen in your life. She looks fucking incredible for a woman her age and you were honestly shocked to learn that she’s as old as she is. Whenever you interact with the woman, you have to physically restrain yourself from allowing your eyes to lower; her shirts are always exceptionally tight, clinging like a second-skin to her tits. It’s only when she turns around to leave through the front door that you let yourself check out the older woman. She has a damn nice ass.

“Hello, Miss Braus.” With your tote bag resting on your shoulder, you step inside of the home as the brunette warmly ushers you in.

“Miss Braus makes me feel old. How many times do I have to tell you that Sasha will do just fine, sweetheart?” She complains, playfully scolding you as you slip off your sneakers by the entrance of the door. Her hands are firmly placed on the curve of her hips when you lift your head to offer her a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, Mi—Sorry, Sasha. Force of habit, I guess.” You bring up one hand to rub at the back of your neck, brows lightly pinching together when you survey the space to see Kaya nowhere in sight. “Eh, pardon me, Sasha, but where’s Kaya at?”

Although you’re well aware of how reserved her daughter is, you’ve come to expect Kaya to be curled up on the couch reading a novel whenever you come over to babysit her. You guys have fallen into the habit where you’ll cook her lunch as soon as you arrive while she reads nearby so it’s rather unusual that the blonde girl is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s at her father’s house for the day.” For a brief moment, the brunette’s expression pinches up: distaste for the blond man made evident on her face. You don’t know too much about Sasha’s ex-husband, just that he’s some renowned chef that frequently travels a lot. Niccolo is his name if you recall correctly. It’s not your place to pry so you choose to not ask any questions regarding the matter and listen when Sasha slips little tidbits of information regarding her ex-husband.

Wait. What?

“Kaya’s not here?” If Kaya’s not here then why were you still scheduled to babysit today?

You’re drawn out of your train of thought when Sasha places a gentle hand on your shoulder. You startle at the little amount of space in between the two of you.

“Nope!” She cheerfully exclaims as she slips your bag off of your shoulders. You’re left in a stupor, wondering what the fuck is going on, but you shake it off and follow Sasha, who has turned around and is now making her way in the direction of the kitchen.

“I thought we could chat today!” Her back is turned towards you as you take a seat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. She floats around the kitchen, grabbing items from the fridge and cabinets. Your eyes glue themselves to the thin sliver of skin that appears when Sasha’s shirt rides up as she reaches for something in one of the upper cabinets.

“O-oh, okay.” This turn of events is rather strange, but you’re not complaining. Sasha’s a really wonderful conversationalist: the conversation flows naturally between you two and you’re always left in stitches at the jokes she cracks. Also, you get the opportunity to openly ogle her with her back facing you as she cooks something on the stove. You’re not going to pass up on an opportunity like this.

“I’m making us some lunch, but it’s going to take some time to cook.” You’re knocked out of your reverie once again and quickly avert your gaze from Sasha’s ass to meet her eyes. You desperately hope you were fast enough that she didn’t catch you. Her expression doesn’t give anything away so you think you’re good.

“Sounds good to me! Thank you so much for making lunch.” Your mouth waters at the thought of eating Sasha’s cooking. Although you’ve never tried it, Kaya’s always boasted about how her parents are both great cooks. You’re looking forward to trying her food since Kaya speaks so highly of it.

“Of course, honey! It’s no issue especially for such a sweet girl.” Your thighs automatically squeeze together. You mentally thank a higher being that the counter hides your lower half because that would be painfully embarrassing for you if your employer saw how turned on they made you by uttering only two words.

You watch as Sasha floats around the kitchen, grabbing some more ingredients from the fridge and different cabinets before tossing them all together on the stove to simmer. You fidget in your seat, never one who was good at sitting still with nothing to occupy your attention. You feel that it would be rude for you to pull out your phone and scroll through social media in Sasha’s presence.

“There we go! Now we just have to let this simmer for a while,” she exclaims, turning around to face you and clapping her hands together. A pretty smile graces her face and her features light up when you return it with a grin of your own.

“Since it's going to take some time, how about we get comfy?”

Sasha pats the seat next to her on the couch, prompting you to slip out of the stool you’re sitting on to join her. You make sure to maintain a respectable distance that Sasha effectively destroys when she scoots closer to you until your knees are brushing against one another’s. The lack of space between you two makes you more nervous than you’d like to admit, but you don’t move from your spot.

The air is stolen straight out of your lungs when Sasha places a delicate hand on your knee.

“You know, you’re not really discreet when you’re checking me out, honey,” Sasha notes.

“Huh—what?” It takes your brain a moment to process what Sasha’s said, especially as her hand steadily inches up your thigh. Once you realize what she’s said, embarrassment crashes over you in a cold wave.

“Oh my god, I am so so so sorry Miss Braus. Please forgive—.”

Your words die out when Sasha places the hand that’s not on your thigh on your cheek, forcing you to look her way.

“You talk too much, sweetheart,” Sasha affectionately chides before she presses her lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in the process. You’re frozen still for a moment. Is this actually fucking happening? When you feel Sasha move her lips against yours, you realize that yes, this is, in fact, fucking happening.

Any of your prior hesitations is thrown out the window when you feel Sasha’s hands slip underneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your tongue traces the seam of her lips before Sasha parts them, letting you in. Your hands rest on her hips, urging and guiding her to seat herself on top of your lap.

You smile against her lips as a startled gasp leaves them when you firmly squeeze her ass.

“Too much clothing,” she rasps out while pulling her shirt over her head. You’re quick to follow suit and tug your own t-shirt off just in time to watch Sasha unclasp her bra. Her breasts spill out from underneath the constraining fabric and jiggle before settling against her chest.

As much as you want to lean forward and lather her tits in attention, you’re eager to switch the position you’re currently in. Sasha’s back hits the couch’s cushions with a quiet thump as your frame leers above her.

Her eyes widen in brief surprise at the action, but Sasha’s not granted much time to think when you swoop down to kiss her again. It’s sloppier this time around. You have no clue when, or if, you’ll ever get this chance again and you’re determined to make the most of it. You want to ingrain the taste of Sasha into your brain.

Her hands tangle together behind your neck when you begin your descent down her body. You lick the bead of sweat trailing down the column of her neck and gently nip at the skin there. Not hard enough to make any marks, but just hard enough to elicit a gasp from Sasha.

“Fuck. Just like that.”

She throws her head back when you swirl your tongue around the hardened bud of her nipple while your fingers roll her other one. You lavish her tits in attention, sucking and nipping at them until blood rushes to the surface of her skin. When you lean back, you mentally pat yourself on the back. Her tits are a mess, covered in hickies of varying sizes.

You pepper kisses to her stomach, relishing in how soft and plush her skin is, before tossing her legs over your shoulders.

“You look so good like this, Sasha. So pretty and desperate for me to eat you out,” you coo. You hook your arms underneath her thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the fat of her ass until she’s positioned in a way you like.

“Hurry up and put your mouth on me already.” She tightens her thighs around your head and digs her heels into your back, urging you to get on with it already. If this was any other situation, you’d draw it out a little longer until Sasha was on the verge of tears and begging you to eat her out, but you’re feeling impatient. You can’t lie and say you’re not eager to have a taste of her.

Before Sasha can complain at how long you’re taking, you dive in. A startled moan tears its way out of her throat when you lick a long, deep stripe along her dripping slit. You lap at her cunt like a woman starved, devouring her whole. You circle her clit with your tongue before latching onto it.

“Shit. I’m so close. You’re doing s’good.”

Her back arches off of the sofa as her hands bury themselves into your hair. She digs the blunt edges of her nails into your scalp and the slight splintering pain has you moaning into her cunt.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming.”

She sharply digs her heels into the muscle of your upper back and she cums with a loud cry. You hold her in place as she convulses, bucking her hips wildly as she rides out her orgasm. You gently suckle on her clit and run your tongue through her folds until she’s whimpering.

The incessant beeping of the timer that Sasha had previously set startles the two of you. From in between her thighs, you stare up at her with a crooked grin. A mixture of her juices and cum coats your lips and chin. Her eyes dart to the pink of your tongue when you lick your lips clean. You use the back of your hand to wipe your chin, which only serves to smear the liquid more.

“Thanks for the dessert, Sasha. I’m looking forward to tasting your cooking now.”

[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[hewhofightsbythesword]

scotch or irish? tommy shelby x reader

warning/s: underage drinking, swearing, violence, and slight smut

 inspired by disco pigs (2001) 

A/N: I was really high when I came up this idea. Even wrote it while I was high, but I couldn’t find it the next mirning. Wasn’t sure if I really wrote it or if it was a dream. Either way, it’s here lol After like two weeks. Sowwyy 

Tommy and y/n. y/n and Tommy. For as long as the pair can remember, that’s the way it has always been. Born only a few months apart, the two created an instant bond so strong that Aunt Polly said it would transcend through many lifetimes. And of course, Aunt Polly was never wrong in the matters of the heart. This was a friendship full of heart, romantic and platonic love for there was not one without the rest. Tommy’s mother would say to Polly, “That boy... it’s his cleverness that’ll kill him.” Martha found herself confiding in her more, so she continued, “As long as Tommy and y/n have each other... I am not worried.” And everyone knew. Everyone except Tommy and y/n.

The two had very similar minds. What one was thinking, the other was already mentally processing and vice versa. It would be almost adorable if it wasn’t so weird, as Arthur Sr. would call it. It was only weird because they were so smart. Against everybody else (even Polly at times, although she would never admit it), they were always two steps ahead.

From a young age the two understood their natural connection. For example, at the age of seven, Tommy and y/n planned to swear a vow of silence together that was planned to last a total of ten days. At first, y/n was met with slight worry from Tommy.

“We need code names! What should I call you if I need you?”

“You won’t have to need me, silly. That’s the whole point! I will already know, and so will you.” The logic was missing. They were both aware of this but none cared.

The goal was set for ten days. Not a single word was uttered between the kids or anyone else for that matter, aggravating the living hell out of those around them, especially Arthur who would’ve done anything to be a part of the joke. However, by day five, y/n broke the vow, rushing her feet as fast as they allowed a few houses down on Watery Lane.

That day she had heard a few of the older Lee boys, around Arthur’s age, speaking down on the Gypsy Shelby’s. y/n just had to tell Tommy or she was sure she would burst. It was also on day five Tommy came to two realizations: (1) He too would break their vow of silence. There was nothing worth doing if it meant he couldn’t do it with the person who understood him the most. (2) Tommy decided that same day that y/n, in her own right, was a Shelby too.

“Shelby,” he whispers to himself, only for him to hear.

At age 15, y/n was able to convince Tommy to steal a bottle of whiskey from the local pub. Her little hands shoved a piece of a paper with instructions in his direction. “Meet me here,” was all she told him with big eyes before he could even get a word in, running back to whatever held her short attention span. Unfolding the paper, Tommy could see a drawn out map of where to find the only girl who could keep young Tommy on his toes.

If anyone asked him, he would tell them all this was something he had to do. Many nights Arthur and Tommy had to go in all hours of the night looking for their father in pubs. One night in a drunken haze, Arthur Sr. takes his second born by the shoulders, causing him to be dragged onto the floor next to his father. He takes his boy by the face, shaking it a few times to show how serious he was trying to be.

“A man is meant to provide, always. Be a man, Thomas.”

y/n asked and Tommy planned to provide.

Seeing the large “X” marking the destination, it matched the location right before Tommy’s eyes. It was a beautiful far away, empty place from Watery Lane with lots of surrounding nature. It had just finished raining. y/n always did like the way the rain made the earth smell.

She notices her friend right away and runs up to him. y/n takes him by the hand. “I found my favorite tree here. Come on,” she says very nonchalantly.

Tommy shakes his head behind her. “Of course you did, Shelby. Of course you did.”

y/n often thought the world moved too slow for her liking. She always liked to be out and about. Always wild, never to be tamed. She figures that’s why she likes the Shelby’s so much. She was blessed to find a family early in her life that matched her soul. Except, she knows why she likes Tommy so much. He liked to be wild too. He moved just as fast as y/n, and he thought just as fast as her. So there was no doubt in her mind once she tasked her best friend with the alcohol that he'd deliver.

“I just took the first one I saw and ran like hell.” He presents y/n the bottle.

“Scotch whiskey,” y/n reads the label out loud before opening it. Tommy at this point began to see the trouble that she carried within her starting to stir. Confirming this intuitive feeling, y/n goes to make a quick toast like the kind she has seen her father make with Tommy’s. “To your Aunt Pol who would kill you if she ever knew, Thomas Shelby,” she groans out as she takes the first large swing with the most confidence. Even from when they were children, Tommy always wondered how so much confidence could fit in such a small body.

He takes the bottle from her to mimic her actions. “To my Aunt Polly who will find out by the week’s end.” They both laugh before Tommy takes his sip, but when he does, he takes it differently than y/n. “What the fuck, y/n. How can you even drink that shit?” He spits and coughs as he attempts to recover.

“What? I like it.” She shrugs while going for another.

At age 18, Tommy realized he loved y/n. By the time Tommy turned eighteen, it came to no surprise to anyone that he was already turning out to be a ladies man. Girls turning into young women were quick to notice his dark hair and hypnotic blue eyes. He was different than any of the factory worker boys that took after their fathers. He was ambitious. He wanted more to life than what dirty old Birmingham could offer, and the young women knew this so in some way, it even made it seem okay that his last name was Shelby. Almost as if Tommy was being pardoned for being a Shelby. And he hated that feeling.

y/n never made Tommy feel that way. She was always the first and the last one to defend her friend since birth. Crowned by Tommy all those years ago, she was Shelby. What else could have made her break her vow with Tommy all those years ago? Tommy didn’t realize exactly what he was realizing at the time. How could he? They were kids being kids. He couldn’t have known it was loyalty. If it wasn’t clear to Tommy then, it was now.

“You need to get out of here. Go get Arthur and John. This is no place for a woman,” Tommy warns y/n one night out, sensing trouble.

The two found themselves cornered by a group of boys around their age. The Peaky Blinders were gaining respect, notoriety, and fear from those around them. Things were changing for the Shelby’s, but not everyone agreed. Most certainly not the three boys looking for a fight. “Run!”

“No!” She hisses back. She tightens her fist and holds them up.

“There is no fucking way I’m letting you do this.”

“Either I leave to get the boys and we come back to your half-dead body, if we’re lucky or I stay and fight and we may actually win this.” Truth be told, y/n wished she could listen to Tommy and go get his brothers. But more than the fear she felt for herself, it was tenfold for Tommy.

“Damn you, Shelby.” he tells her as the fight breaks out.

No words were exchanged on the walk to The Garrison. It seemed like all of the day’s events were forcing Tommy to think about the vow they made when they were seven. Only this time, Tommy could see the logic she proposed. He did know what she was thinking because he was so sure she was thinking the same as him.

“Whiskey, Harry,” was all Tommy said, not bothering to spare the man a glance. y/n goes to sit at a table like they always do but was stopped by Tommy. He latches onto her hand, careful with the cuts and bruises that were beginning to form. “No,” he tells her, “We’ll be in the snug.” And no one protested. They may have wanted to but at the sight of blood on their clothes and on his razor blade, no one dared to speak out against the Blinder.

Not long after Harry delivers two glasses of whiskey through the snug’s window. “Give the toast, Shelby,” he gives the cup to y/n.

Her eyes never leave his. Even with exhaustion hijacking them, y/n could not name a more beautiful sight. “To you, Tommy. To the best and worst pal in the world.”

In his state of shock, Tommy failed to clink their glasses together, so y/n did it. The sound pulls him out of his own swirling thoughts, and they down their drink in an instant. Like the siamese twins they are, a look of disgust and twinge of horror overtake their faces.

“Scotch.”

“Irish.”

They both spit out like venom but were quick to laugh it off. “You gave me the wrong cup, Thomas!”

“Hey, come on now. I’m still Tommy. I’m just a bloody idiot for not knowing the difference.”

Only a few moments later, the laughing winds down a bit. The atmosphere still remains light only to be shattered. “Why don’t you love me?” He blurts out to y/n. “Like the way I love you?”

y/n’s content smile never falters. “I believe you have been too busy to notice me, Tommy. I’ve been right here. Because if you would have just asked, I would’ve said I loved you too. And I do... love you too.”

He smiles at her. “The best and worst pal in the world.”

y/n could feel her heart begin to hammer against her chest. She no longer felt like she was sitting down but floating. With the adrenaline from the fight gone, she should have been able to feel her wounds mark their place on her skin. But that’s not true. All she could feel was a warm, tight feeling in her chest. The boy she loved, loved her back. And no amount of irish whiskey could ever compare.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

Tommy’s eyes searched y/n’s for any trace of hesitance or fraud but found none. All he could see were the eyes of the girl he loved the most. And most importantly, the girl loved him back.

He stands up to speak to Harry through the snug’s window and comes back shortly after. “Come here, Shelby.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss the only girl in all of Small Heath that I love.” At that, y/n had no protests.

Their kiss was nothing less of what the two expected. It wasn't awkward. Nerve wracking, sure, but not awkward. Many nights y/n dreamt about this very moment. She dreamt how Tommy’s lips would feel against hers. She often wondered what kind of lover he was. And now she knows, leaving her with no more thoughts to wonder about.

She is the first one to pull away. “I have loved you since we were seven and you called me “Shelby” for the first time.” She places desperate kisses onto his lips, cheeks, and neck. Anywhere they would fall, really, leaving traces of pure love behind.

Tommy feels like he is starting to lose control once her pillow soft lips attack his neck. “Tell me again, y/n. Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” She reminds him in between her kisses.

“Shelby... if you keep doing that, I’m not sure how much gentleman will be left in me.”

She looks up from the spot on his neck she was loving on, having found his sweet spot. “This one? Right here?” She asks, feigning innocence as she lightly bites down. When she hears his soft moan, her tongue laps at the spot relieving it only to finish off with a few kisses.

Before the last one can even land, Tommy’s hand finds her neck to take control once more. He doesn’t squeeze nor does he have a rough hold. He merely wraps his fingers around the neck he will one day dress in the biggest jewels. Tommy guides y/n to the edge of the table and pushes her to lay on it.

“Here, Tommy?” She giggles watching her best friends crawl on top of her

He shushes her with more wet kisses. “No one will come in. It’s just me and you.” His hands caress, squeeze, and tease whatever he can.

“It’s yours, Tommy, my heart. It’s all yours.”

He wraps his hand under her hair that was sprawled over the table into a makeshift ponytail. “Mine,” he proves when he finally feels all of her. His eyes never hers, wanting to sear the memory of the exact moment she became his. Pain overtakes her face but her hands on his lower back right above his ass lets him know she was okay. After a while, y/n signals Tommy to start moving once more and pain starts to transform into a pleasure y/n never thought was possible.

All the sounds the two were making were sure to be drowned out by the ruckus made by the drunk men just outside the snug. Tommy was sure to tell Harry that no one else was allowed in under any circumstances. In his moment of euphoria, Tommy was ready to wet his razor blade for the second time that night should anyone dare barge in and take a look at what belonged to him.

This wasn’t Tommy’s first time but it was the first time he realized all what sex could be. All the men in his life were wrong. He was wrong. It didn’t have to be all what they said it should. All he ever needed was y/n. Now that he had her, he had no intention of ever letting go.

Basking in the momentary afterglow of his best orgasm, he says, “You know what, Shelby? I don’t think I mind scotch whiskey all that much anymore,” his thumb traces y/n lower lip, even getting it slightly moist, “Not when the taste comes from your lips. My lips.”

[aurumacadicus]

I wish you would write a fic where Howard is the ultimate helicopter dad even once Tony is a legal adult with a job and living on his own aka Howard goes to the bar/club/brunch/yoga practice with Tony and is terrified of being replaced.

I’m so happy everyone knows I’m always down to write “actually a good dad” Howard lmaooooooo:

Tony gets kidnapped once at the age of five. Peggy and Jarvis disappear for three hours and return with a very giggly boy, and Howard crumples to the ground when he realizes that things could have been so much worse if he didn’t have such good (and dangerous) friends. Tony doesn’t seem to have any lingering trauma, but that just means they’re lucky, and it could happen again.

So he keeps a closer eye on Tony, invites him into the workshop to show him things, has Peggy and Jarvis teach him self-defense, urges Tony and Maria into the kitchen so he can learn to cook and not depend on others for (possibly drugged) food, and does not make playdates for Tony outside somewhere with security.

Tony decides to go to MIT at fourteen to get away from his overbearing father, not because he actually wants to leave high school. There’s a setback when his parents convince the dean to let him live off-campus and Howard pops in on him every day regularly, but Maria actually takes him aside and explains that it’s not really fair to make him, at fourteen, room with an eighteen-year-old, and as he’s still a minor, they still have a responsibility to care for him.

Howard only stops showing up every day regularly when he comes to visit Tony and he gets a wooden chair to the head and a stern talking to by some kid named James Rhodes who had him mixed up with an older student who was hounding Tony for an “in” to work at Stark Industries, and well. James Rhodes has made it clear he can and will protect Tony, and he’s over a lot, so. He allows Tony a smidge more freedom. (“Did it physically hurt you to do that?” Peggy asks him, and Howard bellows ‘yes’ loud enough that it makes Jarvis drop a glass in the kitchen.)

One night Maria starts getting texts while she’s trying to relax since Howard is.... out somewhere, he didn’t really say. Finally, she sighs and picks up her phone to find multiple ‘come get your husband!!!!!!!!’ texts from Tony, along with pictures of Tony covering his face in embarrassment at a club while several women are hanging all over Howard, clearly simpering for him. Howard, to his credit, looks absolutely bewildered by the turn of events. Maria stares at the TV, where she is watching a very interesting documentary, then looks at her glass of wine that she’d been about to nurse while waiting for Ana to return with the liquor for cocktails. She thinks about it for only a moment before she texts back, “Perish. Don’t let your father have anything blue” and then shuts her phone off.

Anyway it only comes to an end when Tony is twenty-eight and gets a protective boyfriend and Howard was up in arms about it up until Tiberius Stone approached Tony at one of Maria’s galas and Steve just straight up coldcocked him mid-word.

“Do we seriously need to give your dad a key to our new place,” Steve asks Tony desperately.

“He’ll just break in if we don’t,” Tony says, like it’s a reasonable argument. “And I don’t know why you’re so up in arms about this when it’s really my mom you really have to fear.”

“Fuck,” Steve whispers to himself, rubbing his face tiredly.

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter ii

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated

Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t having a great day, but since most of her stress could be pinpointed to events that had happened over thirty days before, I guess you could argue that she wasn’t having a great couple of months. And she’d argue, she was a professor of Law, after all.

The truth was that it all had started over a month ago and she wanted to punch a lot of people for influencing her decisions that led her to this day, alone in her flat and pregnant, after confronting the father of her unborn child, of whom she knew next to nothing about.

The first person she’d like to blame was her idiotic colleague, Professor Steve motherfucking Rogers. He had been making her life miserable ever since she stepped foot in the university and refused his invitation for a date, but last month he had made it specifically difficult for her to ignore him.

Like, moving into her office difficult.

Of course, she was expecting to have to share the space, but the idea was that the next new professor that joined the staff would be the one to move into her office, and not one of the professors who *already had an office but decided that the location was inadequate for him. 

It was literally right down the hallway.

So Y/N now had to see him everyday, as opposed to the weekly staff meetings which used to be the only time she’d have to deal with him. And it just so happened that immediately after moving in, he decided it was time to start hitting on her again.

It’s not like Steve wasn’t attractive, that was actually part of the problem. He was very handsome and that, paired with his smooth talking and his incredible bright eyes, made it very difficult for her to continually tell him no. She had the hunch that he knew it, and that was why he kept insisting.

But you see, there was a reason why she had refused him, and the reason was that she didn’t want to date someone she had to work with. And she was glad that she had created that rule for herself, because it helped her see that Steve didn’t meet another of her very important rules: he didn’t respect her space.

So that is why her best friend, Ana, was the second person she wanted to hit. Because after sharing with her what her week had been like ever since Steve managed to move into her office, her friend decided the best way for her to let off some steam would be to go to a bar, get drunk, and find someone to go home with.

Now, Y/N hadn’t disagreed, despite the fact that the bar scene wasn’t necessarily her favorite spot to be at on a Friday night. But she was in a new city and it was time to try new things, so she accepted her friend’s soft push and accompanied her to a posh place called “La Manda”, which ended up being much fancier than she was expecting.

She quickly realized that was the reason for Ana demanding her to wear her favorite black dress. At least her friend had prevented her from being underdressed, but since her clothing wasn’t designer-made, she still felt a bit out of place. Everyone looked *expensive, and that was definitely something she was not.

Still, she had agreed to come out with her friend and she was already there. There was no reason to back out now. So she swallowed down her fears and ignored her discomfort, and ordered a martini to sip while they gossiped. At least the alcohol was always there to help her in awkward social situations.

Only an hour into the evening, Ana caught the eye of a handsome dark-haired man, and Y/N was many things, but a cockblock wasn’t one of them. So she insisted that her friend should accompany him to his place and assured her she’d be fine on her own. Ana had left with the stranger, but only after making her promise she’d stay for a bit and try to meet someone so she could have some fun, too.

That wasn’t a promise Y/N intended to keep, but Ana didn’t need to know that. All that mattered was that she didn’t stand in the way of her friend getting laid tonight. So the plan was for Y/N to finish her drink - she’d been on her second martini when the guy appeared, now she was halfway through her third - and she would bolt. 

Yeah. That was the plan. But what Y/N wasn’t expecting was for a gentleman to take a seat by her side at the bar and win her over with his cocky remarks and good looks. He wasn’t the type of guy she would go on a date with - it was clear that he thought too much of himself and Y/N could never bear people who thought money made them interesting - but she had to admit that he would be a good stress relief, and she was in desperate need of one.

When she cut to the chase and asked him if he was interested in taking her home, the look of surprise on his face was hilarious. Guess despite his handsome features, he wasn’t used to women who knew what they wanted and were clear about it. But Y/N had always treated sex just as it was: a human need that could be easily satisfied should two people agree on it. 

After laying it out in the open that all she wanted was a one-night stand, and he shouldn’t really look for her for anything more than that, the guy practically pounced on her, like her honesty was some type of foreplay for him. It almost made her laugh. But then his fingers found her clothed core under her dress and she almost choked, immediately jumping on him to take his lips with hers. 

Ransom - she’d learned his name during introductions, but wasn’t too worried about remembering it - took her to his place and she had to admit it was easily one of the best nights she’d ever spent with a partner. Then again, he had that kind of personality that made it clear he was well-experienced in bed, so she wasn’t too preoccupied about being disappointed. Come morning, however, she left before he woke up, only stopping to collect her purse that had been carefully deposited on a side table by the front door.

Her morning laziness had been the thing that saved her from a lot of trouble, for at the moment she pulled the bag, it brought down with it a pile of mail that had been sitting underneath it without her noticing it. When she bent down to pick it up, she caught sight of the name written on the delivery address. 

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale,” she had thought. “Huh. Guess I just slept with the playboy millionaire that’s being forced to take over his family’s publishing company.” And that was all that she expected to learn from him. When she took an Uber back to her place, she never thought she would be desperately googling his name in a little over a month, in an effort to figure out the address of where he worked. 

Guess life really has a way of fucking us all up when we least expect it.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Make A Scene

AMHL – Masterlist

Dick immediately noticed when Y/N started getting quieter and quieter as they got closer and closer to the venue.

Bruce had hired a driver to pick them up from their apartment in Gotham. And the car had gone quiet now. 

Dick reached over to gently hold her hand.

“Nervous?” He asked.

Y/N shrugged, not really seeing the point in trying to lie to her boyfriend.

“This isn’t your first rodeo, ya know.”

She gave him a look. “You know that wasn’t the same.” Her eyes flickered to the driver. “I wasn’t exactly…myself. And I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

Also, tonight they didn’t have the security and comfort of being at Wayne Manor.

No, instead this particular event was being held at the ballroom of Gotham’s most extravagant five-star hotel. It was a party for Wayne Enterprises, not a personal charity or party of the Wayne family.

Bruce had kindly asked Dick and Y/N to attend when board members and business partners started asking if the whole family would be attending. Jason hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts about it. None of them expected him to show up. Tim had to attend since he worked for Wayne Enterprises. And Damian…Well, Damian was his father’s son and not yet an adult. He basically had to do whatever Bruce asked of him while he lived under his roof.

“I’m not gonna leave your side,” Dick promised.

He squeezed her hand to further emphasize it.

Their car pulled up to the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.

There had to be a hundred journalists and photographers, along with random civilians who had nothing better to do than to see Gotham’s elite get out of cars and walk into a hotel.

Dick took in a deep breath.

Thankfully the car’s windows were tinted and protected them from any onlookers.

“Ready?” He asked her.

She nodded.

Dick opened the door and ignored the screams and flashes as he carefully helped Y/N out of the car with his offered hand. He also shielded her from the photographers to give her a moment to get out and adjust herself before they could capture any photos of her.

“Mr. Grayson! Mr. Grayson! Who is your mystery girlfriend?” Someone yelled.

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dick was somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham City through association.

It wasn’t like people were asking for selfies everywhere he went. Or that the paparazzi were following his every move.

But in Gotham, people took note of where Dick Grayson went and who he was with.

And everyone noticed he’d had the same woman on his arm for quite some time now.

Even though Y/N and Dick had been dating for over a year, the media still couldn’t figure out Y/N’s identity. 

What they didn’t realize was that she controlled every single piece of information about herself that lived on the internet.

They didn’t stand a chance. 

Dick smiled and waved at people who called his name. But his hand other hand never left Y/N’s as he helped her up the stairs.

“Who are you wearing?” A female journalist yelled at Y/N.

She ignored them and focused on getting up the stairs without tripping and face planting. Not that Dick would ever let that happen.

However, she knew her outfit was going to draw gazes.

Y/N had made a promise to herself that if she was going to be forced to attend events like this with Dick, then she was going make a statement. People were already going to be staring at her, so she figured she might as well give them something good to stare at.

Instead of wearing a typical cocktail and formal dress, Y/N wore a full men’s suit that was tailored to perfection, but with the bowtie undone. It was what the fashion magazines would describe as “androgynous” in the press tomorrow morning.

Y/N wanted to control her own narrative. And she’d rather be judged for her bold decisions than just her trying to blend in.

Bruce insisted on paying for all the boys’ date’s dresses – in this case, suit – if they happened to bring one. He always thought it was more of an incentive for them to attend these terrible events if he encouraged them to bring significant others. And the press always had a field day with it, which only helped throw people of their trail when it came to their secret lives as vigilantes.

Everyone kept screaming Dick’s name as they walked in, and Y/N wondered how he got so good at smiling through the chaos and ignoring them.

Once they were inside, Dick felt the tension leave Y/N’s body a bit.

“Alcohol?” He offered with a smirk.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, knowing it was exactly what she needed.

Quickly, he grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter.

They clinked glasses.

Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being my date.”

Y/N smiled at his sincerity.

Dick sighed before he threw back the champagne, “The quicker we find Bruce and prove we were here, the sooner we can leave.”

“Try not to sound so excited,” she laughed darkly.

Suddenly felt a small human wrap around her thighs.

Y/N gasped in excitement, “Dami!”

Dick smiled as he looked down at his 10-year-old brother hugging his girlfriend.

“Dick gave me the drawing you made for us. It’s so beautiful. I’m trying to find the perfect frame for it,” she told the boy.

Damian beamed with pride at that.

Suddenly the boy started asking a million questions about Stoker, one of his kittens that he’d given to them to take care of when Bruce gave a limit to how many cats Damian was allowed to have in the manor.

Then, to Dick’s shock, he saw Jason slowly walk over to them with his hands in his pant pockets.

He was not at all dressed nice enough for the event. No suit jacket. No tie. His white button-up shirt wrinkled, messily tucked into his pants, and with two many buttons undone. The sloppiness of it all clearly wasn’t an issue with the women, seeing as all of them were ogling Jason.

“Todd,” Damian greeted coldly, pausing his conversation with Y/N, who whipped around at the name.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled as she went to greet him.

Jason gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.

“I really didn’t think you were coming,” Dick told his brother.

“Well, I wasn’t. But I got a business engagement.”

Y/N and Dick shared a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

“I found my neighbor crying on her fire escape a few nights ago. Apparently… one of the finance bros of Wayne fucking Enterprises was everything but a gentleman to her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization. “J, I already took care of that.”

“I know,” Jason nodded as his eyes scanned the room. He was clearly on a personal mission tonight. “You deleted the evidence. I am teaching him a lesson.”

Dick slowly put together what they were implying.

“Oh, please don’t make a scene, Jason.” Dick begged him.

Because he knew Bruce wouldn’t be dealing with the aftermath; it would be him.

“Don’t worry!” Jason laughed. "I’m gonna take him outside before I beat the shit out of him. No one here will even notice. It’ll be fine,” Jason assured him as he gave Dick a far too heavy slap on the back.

“Just tell Bruce and he’ll get him fired,” Dick tried to convince him to take the less violent route.

“Oh, we already did,” Y/N muttered.

Dick’s gaze shot to his girlfriend.

“He’s getting fired on Monday,” she clarified sheepishly.

“Since when do the two of you work together behind my back?” Dick accused them.

But he wasn’t actually mad about anything – maybe just a little bit bitter.

Jason opened his mouth.

“I swear to God, Jason, if you say ‘club business,’ I will lose it…” Dick warned.

Y/N tried to hide her smile.

“Got him,” Jason growled as he glared at someone on the other side of the room.

As soon as he left them, Dick gave Y/N his full attention.

“Seriously?” He accused.

“I’m sorry! He asked me for a favor and I was happy to do it once I realized what it was,” Y/N defended.

Dick pouted a little. Mostly because he hated being left out.

“Don’t worry, ya big baby. I’m still your ‘guy in the chair’ and no one else’s,” she teased before giving him a kiss, immediately wiping the lipstick off his lips.

“How come Jason gets to beat up people at events like this, but I’m expected to behave like a well-trained dog?” Damian mumbled.

Dick sighed and shook his head.

“Jason likes to think he’s a lone wolf who doesn’t have to play by the rules,” Y/N tried to comfort the boy.

To distract Damian from getting further into how unfair it was, Y/N asked him to show her more of his drawings.

This seemed to please Damian and he pulled his phone out, flipping through photos and showing Y/N his recent sketches.

With Y/N being entertained by his youngest brother, Dick decided to go to the bar and get the two of them a stronger drink and maybe get a kiddie cocktail for Damian. He’d pretend to be patronized and annoyed by it, but Dick knew better.

He patiently waited for the bartender’s attention. 

“So Gotham’s Golden Boy really has returned…” a husky voice uttered beside him at the bar.

Dick glanced over to see a beautiful woman close to his age eyeing him.

It was clear what she wanted. Dick used tactics like this on countless missions.

“So I have,” he answered.

He was polite, but distant.

Women hitting on him at events like this was nothing new. To Gotham, Dick Grayson was a Bruce Wayne 2.0 – younger, just as charming and handsome as his mentor and stand-in father figure. 

Dick knew how to play the game. But he never had any interest in casual relationships like Bruce did.

“Back for good?” The woman persisted.

“My girlfriend and I are just in town for a few weeks,” he answered before ordering his drinks with the bartender finally.

“Oh, brought up the girlfriend rather quickly,” she laughed.

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…my friends and I had a bet going.”

Then she pointed to a group of three young women, who were giggling and smiling, not even trying to pretend like they weren’t watching them closely.

“Oh, yeah?” Dick asked, already tired of this conversation.

--

Jason had already rejoined Y/N and Damian.

Y/N looked down to see his knuckles red with irritation and bruised.

“Please tell me there’s not a corpse in the alley behind this hotel now…” Y/N sighed.

“No,” Jason answered coldly. “Though there fucking should be.”

“What did he do?” Damian asked curiously, clearly he hadn’t been listening to their earlier conversation that closely.

Y/N shifted her weight in discomfort, not sure how to handle the subject with the boy. Yes, Damian was far more mature than many grown men, but he was still just a kid. There were some things Y/N felt like they should at least try to protect him from still. 

“He got my neighbor too drunk to consent, filmed them having sex without her knowing it, and then showed it to a bunch of people at their work,” Jason answered bluntly.

Damian’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking long and hard about what his brother just told him.

After a moment, the boy perked up, “I know where we could hide the body so even father won’t find out.”

“Damian!” Y/N scolded.

But Jason was beaming.

Y/N looked around for Dick, hoping to find another sane person to stop the two boys from actually murdering anyone tonight.

But when she finally spotted him, she saw a woman standing far too close to Dick and pointing to a group of girls who flirtatiously waved and winked at both of them.

“Real cute,” Y/N muttered to herself.

“Vultures,” Damian growled as he followed her gaze.

“Jason, if I leave you alone with Damian, are you going to kill someone?” She asked without taking her eyes off her boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be watched,” Damian groaned.

“No, I need you to watch Jason to make sure he doesn’t change his mind about keeping that asshole alive.”

“Fine,” Damian whined.

Without any further confirmation, Y/N left them. 

She walked across the party on a mission, never taking her stare off of her boyfriend.

Dick did a double take when he noticed her heading towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted innocently.

Because he was innocent. All he’d done was be polite to a bunch of women who were after him for his name…and maybe his good looks.

“I was wondering where my drink was,” Y/N said with a surprising calmness and smile.

Then she turned to the woman. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You must be a friend of Dick’s.” 

She held her hand out.

No cattiness. No rudeness.

Y/N said it with the same kindness that drunk women having with other drunk women in bar bathrooms.

“Oh…I’m Irina,” the woman stuttered as she took Y/N’s offered hand, clearly confused by Y/N’s niceness.

Dick held out her drink.

Y/N took it, quickly clinked her glass with both Dick and Irina.

“Cheers,” she sang before tossing it back and chugging the drink that was meant to be slowly sipped.

Dick didn’t know what game his girlfriend was playing, but he was intrigued.

Once Y/N lightly placed her empty glass back on the bar, she turned to Dick and tilted her head to the side. “Could you show me to the bathrooms? I have no idea where they are.”

“Of course,” Dick answered without knowing where this was going.

“It was nice meeting you, Irina,” Y/N told the woman as she linked her fingers with Dick’s and guided him away.

—

Meanwhile, Jason watched the interaction as if he were watching an award-winning movie. Him and Damian were way too far to hear, but everyone in the bat family could read lips more than fluently.

Then Jason smirked as he watched Y/N drag Dick away.

“Boys,” Bruce greeted as he snuck up on the two of them. “What are we staring at?”

“Oh, you know,” Jason hummed with hilarity, “just watching Y/N assert her dominance.”

“Good for her,” Bruce grinned as he realized what was happening.

He moved his attention to his youngest boy. “Alfred is waiting outside with the car. You’re officially released from your duties.”

“Finally,” Damian groaned.

“Don’t you wanna say bye to Y/N?” Jason asked.

“They’re coming to the manor tomorrow afternoon,” Bruce answered for his son. Then he raised a brow at Jason. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Jason’s only response was a shrug.

Bruce tried to hide his disappointment and nodded before he guided Damian away and walked him outside, where Alfred was waiting.

10 minutes later, Jason saw Dick trailing behind Y/N as she walked back to the main area of the event.

Jason burst out laughing at the spectacle. 

Dick’s hair was an absolute mess. Half of his shirt was untucked. His jacket was draped over his forearm. His lips were swollen and pink. Y/N had left lipstick all over his neck and even a bit on the collar of his shirt.

Yet somehow not a single hair was out of place on Y/N and her makeup was still immaculate. Her outfit was just as sleek and clean as when she’d arrived. The only thing different was the proud smirk on her lips.

Clearly Y/N had just had her way with Dick.

But she wanted to make sure the whole party knew about it.

—

Y/N hadn’t said a word to Dick since she dragged him from that woman.

Her body did all the talking.

One second they were at the bathroom doors, the next Y/N had thrown him against the tiled wall after locking the bathroom door.

She gave no verbal explanation, just started kissing him and undoing his pants.

“Not that I’m complaining. Like, at all,” Dick laughed as they rejoined the party. “But wanna to tell me what that was all about?”

Y/N finally stopped walking and turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “I think you know, Richard.”

Y/N only ever used his full first name to provoke and tease him. And he hated that it worked every single time.

Dick glanced around to see that everyone in their vicinity was eyeing them. Well, they were mostly eyeing him and how it was clear he’d just been fucked in the bathroom.

He stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “Ohhh, I see how it is.” His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second. “If a guy does that, he’s jealous and possessive. But if a woman does it, it’s sexy…”

Y/N proudly smiled like the cheshire cat. “Exactly.”

Something over his shoulder caught her attention. “Oh, I see Tim. I’m going to go say hi.”

Without hesitation, she brushed past him.

Dick let his head fall, put his hands on his hips, and laughed.

He’d pay her back later tonight. And by ‘pay her back,’ he would just tell her how incredibly hot her behavior had been and basically invite her to do it whenever she damn well pleased.

Dick felt a presence beside him, and he didn’t have to raise his head to know it was Bruce.

“Hey,” Dick greeted him nonchalantly.

“You have lipstick all over your neck,” Bruce told him as he took a sip of his drink and looked around the party. “And your zippers down.”

“Sure is,” Dick sighed.

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

OK. This was way too fun to write. 

Let me know what you think!!!

ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE