#if she wants to just settle down and be a housewife that's totally fine

[antianakin]

Happy fix-it AU where Padme leaves Anakin anyway because she realizes how bad he is for her, and she ends up retiring because she REALLY doesn't want to be a Senator anymore (it was also maybe encouraged by her Queen after her secret marriage to a Jedi was discovered) and she goes back to Naboo to be with her family. She's left behind her responsibilities but she doesn't know what to do now, she's just... adrift, sort-of in limbo and mourning her relationship with Anakin. She has to keep convincing herself not to go back to him because she KNOWS she doesn't want that anymore, she KNOWS she doesn't want to be the person she was with him again, but the thrill of the secret marriage to someone who was so passionate about being with her is also sort-of like a drug.

Her parents both offer to let her come help them in their respective jobs, but she doesn't really have the energy for that right now. She DOES like helping Sola with her nieces because their energy and innocence seems to be a balm for her heart. One day, Sola asks if Padme can take the kids to a local festival in Theed one day while she and her husband go do something else, and Padme agrees. The girls are old enough and Theed is safe enough that they can wander off on their own away from Padme as long as they know not to go TOO far and come back to her after a little while. As she peruses the different artwork on her own, one artist's work stands to her more than anyone else's, it just hits at the core of her and she's not even sure why. She stands in front of a painting of a bird in flight for what seems like hours, though it can't be more than a minute or two, before the artist himself comes over to speak to her.

He addresses her as Senator Amidala, and she quickly tells him that she's not a Senator anymore and she doesn't really want to go by the name Amidala either, she prefers just Padme these days. He agrees, and something about him, maybe his eyes, seems familiar but she can't quite put her finger on it. They talk about his art for a while and everything he says about his inspiration feels like it's speaking directly to her. Eventually, Pooja and Ryoo come up to her and start pulling at her hands, demanding that she come see something with them. Before she leaves, she finally realizes she didn't even know his name and asks him.

It's Palo. The first boy she'd ever loved. The last time she'd seen him she'd been twelve in the Legislative Youth Program. She knew he'd left politics to become an artist instead, but she'd never actually seen any of his art before or ever tried to get back in contact with him. Now she wishes she had. Pooja and Ryoo are still pulling her away so she doesn't have time to really get over her shock at this revelation before she has to leave him behind and someone else comes up to ask him a question in her place.

He shows up at her parents' door the next day with the painting of the bird she'd so adored, and offers it to her as a gift. He refuses to accept any payment for it no matter how much she insists, but asks if she'd be willing to take a walk with him instead. She agrees. They end up spending the whole day together, just talking. For the first time, Padme doesn't feel like she's drowning in her own feelings or floating with no direction. She feels a lot like she's finally come home.

[generallysapphic]

put you at ease +18 (king valkyrie x reader)

you and your king celebrate three years together, deciding to take a week long vacation far away from new asgard, spending all the missed time together.

currently obsessed with king valkyrie, really, like she has completely taken over my brain and i wanted a change in pace in characters im writing for and then i watched the newest thor today and left throbbing so here we are.

reader is originally from asgard! ofc she’s black with a short coily fro, just a little taller than val.

warning as usually i’m so so consistent; overstim, praise, pet names, spanking, role play, housewife treatment, strap on sex, multiple orgasms, thigh riding, giver! valkyrie, sub! reader, pregnancy kink, breeding kink,

dedicated to my loves; @vlkyriesverse and HAPPY BIRTHDAY @verachii MWAH MWAH❣️

tag list: @letitias-fav @rxcently @thatrichhoe @blackgcomica @dejaonline @no-oneelsebutnsu @inmyheadimobsessed @blackgirlfariy @mocha-aya @satincherub @dailydiaru @g4yforu @letitiasleftfoot @shuriszn @chatitajens @imaginativethinking

you feel yourself pulse around valkyrie’s fingers, sighing with her other hand over your mouth as she tries to get off a conference call, you in her lap, practically jumping on her thigh for release.

“yep, uh huh. i told you the budget would be done before september, what kind of king do you think i am?” she moves her fingers again, brushing right past your g-spot as she says the last part, smirking coyly at the phone that’s under her shoulder, holding it at her ear. you’re a cruel one, you think, huffing and shaking against her, still not cumming just yet.

“yea, and i like i said, thor’ll be here, it’s just three weeks, alright? new asgard will be totally fine. okay, yes, bye now.” and she finally, finally hangs up and puts the phone, moving her hand from your mouth and settling all her attention on you, and you gasp out, whining. “oh i know my love, i know sweetheart, you were so good, so good,” she coos in your ear, holding you taught, still rutting against her thigh, you feel her muscles flex under your clit and moan louder, finally so close.

“i’m— im cumming, ohhh fuckkkk, i’m cummingggg, please—!” and you feel your clit pulse under her fingers, your pussy squeezing around her and you toss your head back, bracing yourself in her shoulder and the other hand on her desk and moan loudly, squirting and pulsing under her, still moving against her thigh and sighing. “good girl, so lovely,” she whispers into your skin, still holding you waist and you moan in overstimulation after your orgasm settles and passes, and she takes her fingers out, sighing and looking at your cum on her fingers.

you whimper and hide in her neck as she licks you off of her hand, smiling, “you’re so sweet, my love, thank you,” she sighs, kissing you deeply and you moan against her mouth, weak and docile after cumming so hard. she rubs up and down your back, soothing you over and pulls away and looks into your eyes. you smile, “what?” and she smiles too, “just happy is all, love,”

you laugh shyly and agree, sitting more comfortably on her lap now, before it dawns on you that you’re completely naked in her office on the last day before her vacation, “oh gods, val, i’m totally naked! we still haven’t packed fuck!” and suddenly you’re up, scrapping together your skirt and top off the floor and valkyrie huffs at you, “i mean we still have four hours till the flight,” and you gape at her, “four hours too little! and you’re not wearing any suits on vacation, so i know you need to pack!” she sighs and puts her arms up in defeat, standing up and adjusting her suit. you’re nearly out the door when she calls to you, “you made a mess on my favorite pants, love!” and you feel your face heat, storming off.

you get to your room, suitcase on the bed, open and barely packed. you sigh, valkyrie had called you into her office for “something very important” and just ended up fucking you on a conference call. she completely interrupted your pack process and it had you huffing as you finished, grabbing clothes from your drawers and shoving them in your suitcase.

despite your fake anger, you were more than happy to finally get away with your king. you two had both deserved it, more valkyrie than you, as you mostly were her gorgeous eye candy. but you did your best wherever you could; giving her inputs on which laws mattered and what she should vote on next, but you were mostly home, cooking, reading, cleaning, and all that sort of thing, waiting for her to come home after meetings.

you gasp when you come to the realization, and valkyrie is stepping into the room, “what?” she asks behind you standing at the door, her pair of pants in her hands.

you turn, “you’ve turned me into a housewife!” you accuse and she laughs, all the way deep in her stomach. “well yes, i suppose i did, but i told you you wouldn’t get much done marrying me; you’d just be my wife,” she says smugly and you walk around the room, grabbing your clothes and such, “i can’t believe this, what would my mother think?” you ask yourself as you head to the bathroom, grabbing both of your toothbrushes.

valkyrie answers you, “i’m sure she’d be more than happy to know you’ve married a king with an incredible skill set,” and you laugh, “yes, you have every skill except packing, go!” and she laughs again, coming behind you and kissing your neck before heading for her luggage as well. you sigh again, the smile you have on your face spreading. your king was so sweet to you, always making you laugh and keeping you happy. though you had begrudgingly accepted being a housewife, being with her all in all made you the happiest you had been in a while.

she comes back, “you’re smiling pretty hard there, love, thinking about me?” and she’s at your side and you smirk, shoving her a bit, “are you packed then?” and she presents her ‘packed’ suitcase to you proudly and you raise an eyebrow, “if i open this thing and see a single suit, i’m leaving you,” she fakes hurt on her face and slowly backs away and you yell after her, “i swear if you aren’t packed in the next hour, no sex for a week!” and it’s the only threat you can make that she’d take seriously. you laugh a bit to yourself once your hear drawer and drawer flying open and her suitcase unzipping.

the flight is quick, you and valkyrie luckily made it in time despite her terrible packing. the resort is gorgeous, water that stretches across the sand far and wide with some of the clearest reflections you’ve seen. it’s nothing like new asgard, you can say confidently, there’s little people and much more peace, something so calming about finally being away from home with the person who married you had you smiling on the sand.

valkyrie comes next to you, a margarita in her hand for you and a beer in the other and she sits down, sighing, watching the waves with you. you smile more, taking your drink and leaning on her shoulder, sighing. “it’s beautiful here, right?” you say and she nods, taking a swig and wrapping her other arm around you. “i’m just happy to have gotten away, really needed it,” and you nod, agreeing.

“how do you feel now that you’re away, my king?” you tease and she laughs a bit, taking another swig, “you only call me that in bed, don’t say it out here,” and you laugh at her explicit language, nearly spitting out your margarita. “what shall we do first then, hmm? maybe go for a swim or exchange gifts?”

valkyrie shrugs, “what have you gotten me then?” and you giggle, “gifts it is. mines still in the hotel, but you’ll love it,” and she raises her eyebrows clearly interested, and smiles. “well, mines in my pocket you want it now?” and you nod, sitting up and looking at her and setting your drink down on your towel. she reaches in her pocket, sighing a bit before she holds her hand out with a fist.

“okay, i know you’re going to do that thing where you tell me not to do something but ive wanted to get you this for a very long time so just, hear me out okay?” and you smile shyly, “okay,” and she pulls out a small box.

you take it in your hands, opening it and revels a small ring, something you can’t even recognize before it hits you. your eyes swell, “val, no, you didn’t..” and she cuts you off, “nope, i told you not to, just … okay, i know it’s a lot,” and you’re fully crying now, nodding and trying to listen, “but, it’s in my culture to do this for a life partner and i consider you that, so, yeah,”

you smile and the ring slides on your finger easily, and it’s the perfect size because of course it is. it says her name, brunnhilde, made from the same stone and silver from her own home of true asgard, stone that was in currency right before hela attacked. your heart swells, the only other person she had given anything like this to was her past partner, someone she so rarely talks about. but you heard it, how important it was to her and how special it meant you were to the other person.

it makes you sigh out and cry again, “i know you don’t want me to make a big deal, but i literally can’t think right now,” you stttuer out and she laughs, grabbing your face and wiping away your tears. “okay well can you at least stop crying, my love? it was supposed to make you happy,” she jokes and you laugh again and nod, wiping your nose and leaning forward to capture her mouth. she kisses you sweetly, and you can slightly taste the beer on her lips. you sigh and smile into it, grabbing at her hands in your face.

once you pull away you laugh, “now i feel like mine isn’t worth shit,” and she snorts with you, shaking her head as the sun sets over the waves, “no i’m sure it’s great, my love. do you want to go back and open it for me?” and you nod, starting to stand and valkyrie stands before you. you get up but your legs are weak, and you smile, “look at what you did, making me all soft inside,” and she laughs, extending her hand to help you.

you’re walking back, you’re attached to her hip entirely, smiling and holding her hand with the ring in yours. “you really like it, huh?” she jokes and you laugh with her, nodding unabashedly, “incredibly so, i think it’s better than my wedding ring,” and she laughs once you reach the door to your hotel room and she smacks your ass slightly making you jolt and laugh, “you better wear both,” she says and you nod, turning towards her and wrapping your arms around her smiling, “i’ll wear whatever you want, my king,” you say it again and she smirks, wrapping her hands around your waist.

“can i get my gift before i keep you in that bed?” and you gasp a bit, nodding before heading to your luggage and opening it. “okay, so you had you wanted to try it a while ago so i looked into it, so,” you pull out a purple box, the big IVF letters exposing the gift to valkyrie’s eyes and she gasps. “oh gods,” and you laugh a bit, walking towards her, “now you can get me pregnant and make me the housewife you’ve always wanted me to be,” you joke but she’s speechless, blinking wordlessly as she flips over the box and reads the instructions.

you look at for a moment, “are you okay?” you say to her and she finally looks up, one of her braids in her face, “i am going to fuck you so hard,” she practically promises and you laugh a bit, nodding, “you’re laughing but i’m so serious,” she says again and she’s smirking now, placing the box down and grabbing your waist once more, albeit a bit roughly. you smirk a bit, “yeah? gonna fuck me and get me pregnant?” you joke back but you can tell she’s serious, she doesn’t say anything back, she pushes her mouth against yours, silencing whatever you were going to say next.

you moan against her mouth, sighing and running your fingers through her braids. valkyrie keeps you close, rubbing all over your skin and pushing you back against the bed. you sigh as she pushes you down and you find yourself laying down, valkyrie smiling down at you. you sit up slightly, “before we start, i wanna try something,” you whisper out and valkyrie smiles and leans down, kissing you softly, “what did you have in mind, love?”

you but your lip, not really ready to admit it. “i really wanna be your housewife, val. like, you treat me like it and i know i say i don’t like it but… i really do, so can you—?” and she agrees, nearly breathless, “yeah, yeah. i can, you wanna be my pretty housewife? you want me to keep you and fuck you over and over and over again?”

you nod, breathless and biting your lips, “yeah, yes i do, please, please—” valkyrie licks her lips and climbs on top of you, kissing at your mouth and stripping away your clothes and exposing your skin to the coldness of the room. she attacks your nipples first, playing with one bud in her hand the other in her mouth. you moan and lift yourself to her mouth, sighing and your legs move together, squeezing around your arousal. she moves her hand against your legs, sliding her fingers against your drenched pussy. you moan a bit, hips stuttering at the pressure like you haven’t felt her before.

she moves away from your nipple, it’s wet and hard once it touches the cold air. you huff, feeling her spread your legs more, “lemme see, love, open up for me,” and you do, spreading your legs and she maneuvers you to take off your shorts and underwear, your pussy is suddenly out in the open, and you can feel yourself leaking on the sheets below. you sigh and thrusts your hips up, and valkyrie sighs, “oh, so pretty my love, so fucking gorgeous,” and you nod, looking at her with hooded eyes. she leans forward and kisses your clit, the nub pulsing under her mouth. she sucks a bit, keeping your legs open when you gasp out in surprise.

valkyrie holds you there, sucking on your clit softly, not giving you the pressure you’re used to. you moan softly, “val— please, please more, i want more,” you whimper out and she pulls away, a wet noise leaving your pussy. “you want more, huh? she teases, sliding her finger against you and you nod, whining, “yeah—!” and she smiles, “then what do you say, baby?”

you gasp once you feel her fingers inside you, the digits moving in and out slowly, still teasing. “please— haaa, oh please, my king, i need you, i need more, ohhhh please—!” and she sighs, adding her other hand to your pussy and putting pressure on your foot while her other hand works inside of you, “there we go, baby, that’s it, say it again for me,” and you buck, head tossing back as you feel your orgasm flow through your body slowly. “please! my king, please pleasee— i, i’m cumming, oh val—!” and you pussy clenches around her fingers, your clit pulsing under her thumb. you moan out, high pitched sounds escaping you, and she coaxes you through it, body convulsing and your pussy squirting slightly.

she pulls her fingers out, bringing them to her mouth and licking your cum off her hand. you sigh and watch her, spreading your legs a bit more to show you still needed attention. “please, i— i want more please,” and she nods, leaning over you and her braids falling on you. “i know, baby, i know, i’ll fuck you soon, okay? just be good for me, alright?” and you nod, she kisses you swiftly, sucking slightly on your lips and you can taste yourself on her mouth.

she gets up from above you, presumably to get her strap, and you smile. “v?” you call and she responds from the bathroom, “can you get the one i like?” and she laughs a bit, “i’ve already read your mind, baby, i got it,” and you chuckle a bit, moving around to get on your knees, presenting your pussy to her as you level yourself on your forearms. she comes back, smirking, “wow, look at you, all spread out for me huh?” and you nod, spreading your legs a bit more. you look back at her, “gotta be a good wife right?” and she smiles, getting behind you and kissing your back and butt, sliding her fingers against your clit and you gasp, moaning, “yeah, you are a good wife, aren’t you, baby? i should just fuck you and get you pretty and pregnant, huh?”

you gasp out and nod, feeling her strap slide on your pussy. you moan, “yes, yes! please, please, my king, fuck me, get me pregnant i need it—!” and she’s inside you by the time your finished rambling, moaning when you feel the ribbed edges move against your walls, breaching you all the way till the hilt. you gasp out, drool falling from your mouth which hangs open. she sighs, kissing at your shoulders, and moving her hand against your lower stomach, and feeling her strap bulge against your body. you groan and she does too, “you feel me, love?” and you nod, the words dying in your throat, not being able to speak anymore.

valkyrie smirks, before pulling out and slides back in, you gasp out and twist. she thrusts again, one hand holding your hip and the other feeling the bulge that pokes your stomach. you whine and your forearms give out as she starts a harsher pace, “ouhhh— fuck me, fuck me, please harder,” and your mumbling, completely lost because of valkyrie’s dick. she mocks you, “such a good little housewife huh? you like my dick, baby?” and you nod, slurring and drooling. she holds you tighter, hands gripping your waist harder and harder and you feel it, your pussy starts to convulse around her and you moan, trying to keep it down.

she knows your body better than anyone though, and she murmurs against you softly, “you gonna cum, my love? gonna cum all over me, yeah?” and you nod, whimpering and sighing, she leans forward and puts her fingers in your mouth, hand slipping away from your stomach and you suck on them, so happy to have the anchor. you moan unabashedly around them, slurring out, “cumming, i’m cumming, oh please, please i— i’m so close, FUCK!” and you cum once more, squeezing around her dick and pulsing again. you feel your pussy squirt again, the fluid leaving you as you gasp out silently and she groans against your back, thrusts coming to a stop as you twitch in overstimulation.

she sighs against your back, and you groan, your orgasm subsiding and you feel her pull out, the sound of pussy and heavy breathing left in the room. you fall to your side, signing and moaning against the cool air and valkyrie comes to your side, kissing the dent she left in your hip and opening your legs after slapping your ass a couple of times.

you groan, and she smiles against your skin, “come on love, one more, yeah? gotta fill you up again?” and you huff and nod, laying in your back and spreading once more. valkyrie wastes no time, sliding her strap inside you once more, grinning at your hip and you groan out, hands grabbing the sheets.

she gives you no rest, fucking into you once more, deep and hard and you gasp out, back arching and body moving against her, “ughhhhhfffffuucccckkkk— val, valkyrieeee, i’m, im —!” your mind was mush, she felt like she was everywhere inside you, her hands playing with your tits and her thrusts slapping against your core, you felt full. she groans at the sight of you, moaning, and leaning down to capture your drooling mouth, “want me to cum inside tou, love?” she gasps against your wet lips and you nod, twisting your thighs to pull her closer, locking her with your wrapping legs. you feel her smile against your lips and you nod more aggressively now, “please, please, please my king, i— i want it, i want it, so bad, cum inside me, please, haaaughhh, fuck—!”

valkyrie nods, her hips stuttering a bit as her own orgasm approaches and you whine, feeling yours creep through your pussy as well. she holds your position, thrusting to get there, “cum for me, be my good girl and cum with me, yeah? can you?” and you nod, her voice piercing your bloodstream and you can’t help it when your feel your pussy clench around her again, your clit pulsing and she halts her thrusts as well, hips stuttering against yours as she cums, eyes closed and biting her lip, groaning against yours.

her orgasm lasts for a bit, she’s still moaning and moving by the time you’ve come back to earth. you hear her sigh and exhale above you, your eyes still twisted shut after the over stimulation. she leans down to kiss you properly, you can feel the bite marks she left on her own lips against yours and you sigh, declawing yourself from the sheets and wrapping around her, moaning in her mouth. she wraps herself around you, your legs still locked onto hers and she’s all around you now, her muscles vibing all your body.

when she finally pulls away your eyes blink open and there’s a drunk smile on her face as there is yours, “hi,” you whisper and she laughs a bit, and whispers is back, “hi,” you smile and she kisses you again, slowly pulling out and you whimper against her mouth, and calming you by rubbing up and down your body.

once she’s finally pulled out, she pulls away and lays next to you, breathing deep and relaxing. her muscles are still flexed once you lay next to her and cuddle up, “you alright?” you whisper first and she laughs a bit, “i should ask you that, love, i think you squirted like three times,” you lean up and cover her mouth in embarrassment, cheeks hot and a shy smile on your face, “you don’t need to say it,” you whisper and she laughs again, putting her hands up in surrender. you remove yours and lay down again, “i’m fine, thank you,” and she nods, “and i am as well, thank you checking on me,” she says sweetly.

you mumble and lean up to kiss her, rubbing up and down her tight stomach, the sweat and likely your cum that lay there being rubbed into her skin. she pulls away again, gasping, “oh and thank you love,” you cock your head at her, “for?”

valkyrie jerks her head towards the bedside table towards the IVF kit and you shy up, looking back at her, “it’s no big deal, i just knew you’d been talking about it for a while, is all.” and valkyrie grabs your chin to silence you, “it is a big deal,” she retorts and you listen, “i’m… i’m not ready now, but i’m so happy you want to at least try with me, my love. it means a lot.” before you can say anything back, she’s kissing you again, sighing into your mouth and keeping you there.

the security feeling of valkyrie so close to you has you sighing and your eyelids feeling heavy. you pull away, “we should get some rest, do it all again tomorrow, yeah?” and valkyrie laughs, “yeah, do it all over again, huh?” and you smile, settling in her shoulder as she cuts the bedside light off, snuggling up against you too. there’s a small whisper of ‘i love you,’ you hear in the night and it brings another bright smile to your face as sleep overcomes you.

when you wake, you hear fumbling and paper crumbling. you blink open at the sunlight in your room and feel around for valkyrie, who’s not next to you anymore. you sigh and sit up and find your wife and king, on the floor with the IVF package discombobulated and all over the floor.

you squint, your bonnet blocking some of your vision, “what’re you doing?” you groan out and valkyrie looks at you, confused with the instructions in hand.

“i know you’re gonna laugh at me but, i thought this was like a temporary dick package or something, i thought i’d actually cum inside you! i didn’t know it was just a DNA shot, that’s not as fun,” and she truly sounds disappointed, like a little kid who was just told they can’t go to the park because it’s raining. you feel a mocking smile form on your face and she catches it, “okay, yeah it’s funny but did you know that?”

and you try to hide your smile and nod, “yes, well, i did buy the kit. i— i definitely knew,” you try to explain and valkyrie sighs, “whatever, i’m sure i’ll find someway to make that sexy,” and she grumbles as she climbs back into bed, slumping next to you and you laugh a bit, snuggling back next to her under the covers. “you’re so weird,”

she smiles, “and yet, you married me. i can’t believe it— letting me make a housewife out of you,” you smack your lips and hit her with a stray pillow, valkyrie’s laughs still heard through the cotton.

DONE AND DONE !!! @verachii I HOPE YOU LIKED IT AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BBYYY you looked absolutely gorgeous!!! I hope you had fun and enjoyed your day!!!

MWAH MWAH rmb to like and leave replies and reblog!! bye goodnight ❣️🫶🏽

[wiltingredroses]

Venomous: An Extreme Horror Novella Chapter 2: Runaway girls

I wake up to the morning sun shining in from the window. Fear kept me awake for most of the night. Well, that and the springs of the pull-out mattress stabbing into my back. Today is the day that we get back on the road. We have been staying with Shane, a 25 year old man that Evelyn had befriended on the internet, for the past several days. It's not as sketchy as it sounds, though. Shane is gay. They met in a chatroom a few months back. He had gone through a similar situation when he was younger and was sympathetic to our plight. He has repeatedly told us that we're welcome to stay as long as we want, but Evelyn and I are beginning to grow restless. He only lives about an hour away from our hometown, which is a bit close for comfort. Not to mention, as Evelyn pointed out, it won't look good for him if he gets caught harboring a couple of underage runaways. The last thing we want is for a good guy like him to get into trouble because of us. He's the only one to have been kind to us since we were forced out of the closet.

“You awake already, bunny?”

I roll over to see Evelyn, wide awake, staring at me.

“Yeah, I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither.”

Our hands intertwine and we lay together in silence for a moment. Despite everything, I can't help but feel grateful for being found out. For the first time in our lives, we don't have to hide what we are. Our feelings for each other can finally be on full display, with no fear of being caught.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“I was thinking California.”

“That's a long way to go. We'd have to cross a whole lot of states just like this one to get there.”

“That's true, but it'd be the same for just about anywhere else. We're surrounded by bigots on all sides.”

“Well, okay. If you think it's a good idea.” I relent.

“No, no. This is our future we're talking about. If you aren't totally on board, we're not going.”

“Well, why do we have to pick? Wouldn't it be safer to keep moving?”

“So your idea is just one big road trip? Forever?” She asks, and I worry I just suggested something stupid.

“Well, at least until we turn eighteen.”

Evelyn smiles.

“I'm in.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? Fuck it, let's see what this country has to offer. We've never seen anything outside of our shitty little town. Besides, how are we supposed to settle down if we've only seen one little pocket of the whole country? Not even a good pocket at that.”

“Amen.” I say, before thinking better of it.

“No, scratch that. Religion created this whole mess in the first place.”

“Give credit where credit is due. Our families would still be assholes even without religion. It just gave them an excuse.” Evelyn says.

“That's fair. So I guess you're going to join a church now?”

“Maybe. If it involves lesbian nuns.”

We both laugh. Despite everything, we have each other. Wherever we go, we'll be just fine. Even if we end up living in a tent under an overpass, it will still be preferable than living back home, where we would undoubtedly be forbidden from seeing each other.

For the first time since we left home, excitement overshadows fear. Our future doesn't seem so scary now that we have a, admittedly vague, plan. We can go everywhere and see everything, together. No one will be able to stop us.

-

We pack our bags and clean up the apartment, save for Shane's bedroom and office. Once we finish, we go to the kitchen and start cooking breakfast. It's nearly noon, but that's around the time that Shane wakes up. He's a freelance programmer and doesn't answer to anyone. His schedule is whatever he wants it to be.

Considering I was brought up to be a good little housewife, I am pretty adept at household tasks. Evelyn is capable enough with guidance, but she is much more proficient in “masculine” chores. Her mother died when she was five, leaving her to be raised by a single dad. Not that he ever bothered to teach her anything. Her uncle was more of a father to her than her real dad was. He's the one that taught her everything she knows. He taught her how to drive alongside basic mechanical skills. He even left her his truck in the will. She technically only has a learners permit, but that doesn't mean a whole lot around here. Besides, Evelyn has always looked a few years older than she really is. We'll have to figure something out once we get out of hillbilly country, though. City people tend to be sticklers for that sort of thing.

Her uncle sadly passed away last year. She regrets never telling him about us. She believes he would have been the one person to accept us. I, on the other hand, believe that's probably just wishful thinking on her part. He grew up in the same town that they all did, after all.

As the last piece of french toast is stacked on the serving plate, Shane appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He face tells me he already knows today is our last day living here.

“Today's the day, huh?” He asks, his voice sounding melancholic.

“Yep.” Evelyn responds. Her words might seem curt, but it's obvious to me that she is hiding a similar feeling. We have come to enjoy each other's company in the few days we've been together. Had we been just a few years older, we would have stuck around longer.

“Well, I don't want you kids starting your journey penniless.” He approaches the kitchen table and places down an envelope. Evelyn picks it up and slides out a wad of cash.

“Shane, we can't-”

“You can. You have to, for my sake. I won't be able to sleep at night knowing you two are out there without food and a roof over your heads.” Evelyn wants to argue, but relents.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Don't mention it. Knowing that I was able to do some good in this world is enough for me.”

“Yeah okay, turn it down a notch buddy.” Evelyn says, playfully punching him in the shoulder. Shane feigns being wounded. In the short time that we've known each other, he's become like an older brother to us. Evelyn has one already, but she's never gotten along with him. Given that he's a full decade older than her, they don't exactly have a lot in common. I'm an only child, a “miracle baby” as my mother used to call me. The doctor had told them she would never be able to carry a child to term. They claimed I was a gift from god. Too bad for them, seeing as how their “gift from god” turned out to be a deviant queer.

We all sit down for breakfast. We plan on leaving as soon as we finish cleaning up the kitchen, but for now, we enjoy each other's company for the last time. We tell him about our plans.

“That sounds pretty dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than sticking around here.” Evelyn replies.

“Fair. What do you plan to do for money? What I gave you will get you started, sure, but you'll need to find a source of income.”

“Odd jobs, I figure. People that need something done aren't exactly hard to come by.” Evelyn says, pretending she's put any amount of thought into it whatsoever. Shane looks unconvinced, understandably so. I know very well that this isn't going to be an easy life.

We finish our breakfast and begin to clean up. I start collecting our plates but Evelyn shoos me away.

“We've got it. Why don't you go collect our things and set it by the door?” She says. I oblige and go to the living room to retrieve our bags. We didn't bring a whole lot with us, given that we left in hurry. We already rid ourselves of what we stole from my parents. It wasn't worth much, in the end. Most of my mother's jewelry was fake, save for a necklace she inherited from my grandmother.

I lug our bags to the front door and give the living room a once over to make sure we didn't leave anything behind. Evelyn and Shane are just finishing with the cleanup when I return to the kitchen.

“We're good to go.” I say.

“Well, I guess that's it then.” Shane says.

“Yeah.” Evelyn says. Shane pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and hands it to her.

“Here. It's got all of my contact information. If you need anything, just let me know. Remember, you're always welcome here.”

“Thanks, Shane. We'll keep that in mind.” Evelyn says.

“Yes, thanks Shane. For everything.” A few moments pass. Nobody speaks nor moves. That is until, Shane pulls us both into a hug.

“Good luck out there, kids. It won't... can't be like this forever. Things will change. We won't always have to run and hide.” He says. I can't help but get teary eyed. Evelyn is silent, which tells me she is just as affected by his words as I am. He lets go, and I wipe my eyes while Evelyn turns away, not allowing us to see her be emotional.

“Goodbye, Shane. We'll see each other again someday.”

-

On our way out of town, we stop to get gas and pick up a few essentials for the road. While Evelyn fills up the truck, I decide to take a peek inside the antique store across the road just for fun. Most of the items for sale, while pretty, aren't things we have the space for. I can't exactly carry a bunch of porcelain teacups in my suitcase across the country, after all. I pause to look at a floral gold locket in a glass case near the front of the store. It's beautiful, and only costs fifteen dollars. Still, that's money we can't afford to part with right now. It's not like I need it, anyway. We counted our money in the gas station parking lot. Evelyn and I had a combined savings of $50, and we managed to get a little over $100 from selling my parent's stuff. With what Shane had given us, we have roughly $450 to our names. We need to make it last, and not spend it on stupid things. I turn away from the necklace and occupy myself with some silly looking figurines. Eventually, Evelyn catches up with me and we go on our way.

We want to cover as much ground as we can before finding a place to rest. We need to cross state lines, at least. If our parents bothered to report us missing, we could easily be recognized this close to our hometown. Evelyn drives carefully, not wanting to attract any attention. I end up dozing off pretty early on. When I wake, I find that we've traveled about 380 miles east of where we started. When darkness begins to fall, we consider where to rest for the night. We find ourselves in a small town, not much bigger than our own. We haven't passed a hotel in a long while, and this place doesn't look promising.

“Hey, I've got an idea.” She says.

“Do I even want to know?” I ask.

“Just follow my lead.”

She parks the truck in the street and climbs out. I reluctantly do the same. I follow behind her as she walks up to a nearby house. It looks like a nice little family home, with a white picket fence and toys littered across the yard. She knocks on the door, and after a few moments, a well put together woman answers. She appears to be a few years younger than my own mother, with kind, blue eyes and wavy blonde hair.

“Hello, can I help you?” She asks.

“Hi, I think we're a bit lost. Do you know the way to Pine's Bluff?” She asks, far more politely than is normal for her.

“Oh dear, you two are lost. Pine's Bluff is two and half hours northeast of here.” She answers.

“That's quite a ways away. You wouldn't happen to know where we could stay for the night, do you?” She asks, and I begin to understand where she is going with this.

“The closest hotel is about half an hour away, but it's not the kind of place a couple of nice young girls like you should be staying. Why don't you stay here for tonight? We've got a spare room and my husband won't mind.”

“Thank you so much, ma'am. That would be greatly appreciated.” Evelyn says. The woman leads us inside and calls for her husband. She explains the situation and asks him to retrieve our bags from the truck. She then shows us to the room we'll be staying in. It looks like it used to belong to a grandmother; Floral everything, from the curtains to the bedspread. The shelves were lined with dusty knick-knacks and the walls were covered with old photographs of long dead loved ones.

“There's only one bed, but I assume you won't mind. You seem like good friends, after all.” The woman says.

Evelyn and I exchange a knowing look.

“Not at all, Ma'am.” Evelyn says.

“Wonderful! Well, you two get settled in. Dinner will be ready soon.” She says before retreating back to the kitchen.

“I can't believe that worked.” I say in disbelief.

“You have got to trust me, Maeve. I know what I'm doing.”

-

Not long after, we find ourselves seated at the dinner table with the woman and her husband, along with their two children. We learned the woman's name is Hannah and her husband is John. Their two kids are Lily and Josh, who are currently preoccupied with making volcanoes out of their mashed potatoes. They seem like such a nice little family, much nicer than either of our own. Hannah is a far better cook than my mother, as well. She seems to understand what seasoning is, and that not all ingredients have to come from a can.

“So, what are you girls doing this far from home?” Hannah asks.

“We're on our way home from college for spring break.” I lie, effortlessly. I've been thinking up answers to any possible questions they might have since we stepped though the door.

“Is that so? Well, I'm glad you came to our door. It's dangerous out there, these days. Especially for a couple of young girls.” She says.

“We can handle ourselves just fine.” Evelyn says. Her tone of voice is noticeably annoyed. She's always hated being considered weak.

“It's a good thing we found you though. We've been on the road all day and I don't think we would make it all the way to Pine's Bluff.” I say in an attempt to divert attention away from Evelyn. My efforts prove to be successful, as they don't seem to notice her change in tone at all.

“Have any exciting plans for spring break?” Hannah asks.

“Oh, not really. We're just excited to spend time with our families again. We haven't seen them since Christmas.” I say.

“How lovely. We can only hope our children are so eager to come visit us once they're all grown up.” She says. John grunts in agreement.

Having stealthily lied our way through the conversation, we enjoy the rest of the meal in peaceful silence. After dinner, we retire to the spare room. I get ready for bed immediately, as we don't plan on sticking around long in the morning. I climb into bed while Evelyn brushes her teeth in the bathroom next door. After a few minutes she returns and gets into bed next to me. Before I can turn off the bedside lamp, she holds something out to me.

“What's this?” I ask, taking the small paper shopping bag from her hand.

“A present.” She says. I slide the contents of the bag out into my palm. It's the very floral locket I saw in the antique store earlier today.

“How did you-”

“I saw you looking at it. I bought it while you weren't paying attention.”

“Evelyn, we can't afford things like this.”

“It's just fifteen dollars! We can make it back in no time. Besides, think of how much money we saved by getting free food and a place to stay for the night.”

I realize there's no point in arguing. Besides, I really do love it. It was a really sweet gesture. No matter what kind of situation we find ourselves in, she's always thinking of me.

“Thank you. It's beautiful.”

Evelyn smiles and plants a kiss on my cheek.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

I carefully set the necklace on the bedside table and turn off the lamp. I roll over to face her, grasping her hand in mine.

“Goodnight, Evelyn.”

“Goodnight, bunny.”

[electricbluebutterflies]

Joel/Tess + domestic AU

PG-ish and also on ao3.

Tess settles down for the most mundane reason possible, on paper.

Which is to say that what actually happens is she gets into a routine, starts wanting someone enough that she doesn’t think about wanting anyone else, and it feels as mutual as it needs to be and she doesn’t know what’s in his head but she believes him when she asks and he says he hasn’t put his hands anywhere he’d need to explain, and-

It’s been a while since she’s had a roommate. It’ll be nice to have one she’s also screwing.

She’s been in Boston longer, more time to accumulate the debris of a relatively stable life, and it’s easier to just ask him to stay, not just most nights like he has been for a while now but daytime too, make a life here with her, make-

“You sure about that?” he asks, voice still hazy and maybe she shouldn’t be trying to have this conversation right after they’ve undone each other and-

“You’re here all the time anyways,” she says again with slightly different words. “Might as well formalize what’s already happened.”

She knows she’s got a point, and she also knows he’d like to avoid any entanglements, but… they’ve already crossed that bridge, this would be a fairly small adjustment, this would be-

“Thought you liked quiet.”

Tess rolls her eyes and makes a vague hand gesture. “I live here. What quiet? You’re no worse than anything I get through the walls.”

“Meant like… you don’t need someone else around.”

Great, and now for the vaguely self-loathing spiral that she’s not good at talking down. If those get timed better she can distract, but recovery periods are what they are and maybe she should’ve thought that through before she started seeing someone ten years older than her, and-

Does he not know how attached she’s gotten? Is she really that subtle? Goddamn she’s either good or terrible at this.

“Need got nothing to do with it,” she says, and oh she hopes she’s actually convincing or else she’s going to have to break down and do feelings and she doesn’t want that. “Just figure it makes sense. We’re entwined all the other ways. Might as well have each other to come home to.”

She knows exactly what she’s suggesting, where the boundaries are and that hers will be just as respected. She’s not the housewife type, never has been, and… she’d like to think they wouldn’t have gotten so far if she was any softer. Like to think her strength of personality got her everything she has right now, it sure wasn’t barely existent tits and ass, she can’t-

“Might as well,” Joel repeats like he’s not totally convinced but at least starting to lean that way. “Would make things easier.”

“I’m not asking for-”

“I know.”

“Just be here. Not just more nights than you’re not but all the time.”

It’s not even close to everything she wants, but it’s something, and she’s accepted that’s how this part of her life is going to go, same as every other facet. Take what she can how she can when she can. Don’t actively dream of more. Don’t-

“There any paperwork for that?”

“Probably? Haven’t asked yet, you know I hate…“

She’ll do it though. Spend tomorrow dealing with the absolute horror that is postapocalyptic bureaucracy, probably end up lying about her marital status to get it done, whatever it takes to stay under the radar, and… it’ll be fine, in the end, it has to be fine because otherwise they’re fucked and she’s not dealing with that possibility. It’s just a domestic adjustment, how hard could that be to-

“You need me for any of that?”

“You hate yourself enough for a day in and out of every office in the zone?”

“Someone has to look out for you.”

She doesn’t ask for affection, but she gets it in their way anyways, she thinks as she takes a kiss. “Now you’re making it sound fun.”

“Watching you snap at something in uniform isn’t supposed to be?”

He does know her too well, and still wants to sign up for this. Weird man. Perfect for her, really.

“If you put it like that…”

[kikis-writing-world]

Some of y'all liked last time's "transit day dream." This one was a lot more angsty so trigger warnings under the cut. This is long, unedited, ramblings disguised as a loosely thought out plot. Move forward at your own risk lol

Forbidden/Secret relationship F!OC x Eddie Munson (OC because I impose a lot on her and idk didn't feel like it was inclusive enough to be reader)

This thought was heavily influenced by the huge plot point of Dirty Dancing that everyone always forgets: the bad, back alley abortion. And also Ben Folds Five song Brick. That should give you some heavy hints at what triggers lie ahead. Take care of yourselves loves <3 tw: protected sex, failing contraception, accidental teen pregnancy, talk of abortions, "under the table" abortion leading to worse (vague) medical issues, lots of blood.

Goodie two-shoes style OC who comes from a strict family. Mom is a trophy housewife, dad is a doctor, 2.5 kids, white picket fence etc. She's overall a good kid, but who doesn't wanna rebel a little. She meets Eddie as she searches for that rebellion. He's got pot and will sell cheap to anyone who smiles nicely at him. She feels bad about it, but she's try to be sneaky about her rebellion, she can't exactly blow her entire allowance on a few joints.

The two get to know each other and fall into a secret relationship. It's part of the fun, knowing something no one else knows. Her sibling suspects she's got a boyfriend just by the fact that she's so chipper, but she denies. Her parents are too hands-off to really notice any changes. They keep it to everyone but a few closest friends, not wanting it to get around school and get back to her family.

A few months later, she isn't feeling great. She doesn't think much of it at first - there must be a cold going around, there's always an illness going around in the cess pool called a school - but then her period is late. She's mildly alarmed but her and Eddie always use condoms... (Spoiler alert, they're not 100% effective kids!)

She confides in Eddie, freaking out and not sure who else she can talk to. Eddie is just as freaked, somehow loosing even more colour in his already pale face. He's shaking, pacing, fidgeting as he thinks. He eventually calms down enough that he goes to a gas station down the high way and shoplifts a pregnancy test. It's positive.

They're too young, their families, their lives ahead of them- as absolutely terrified and over their heads they feel, they know the reasonable option is for her to get an abortion. (Regardless of what we believe the politics in this world to be,) she can't just walk into any old clinic - her dad is a doctor! A well known, successful one. There's no way it wouldn't get back to him. Even if they go to a different city, it would show up on the family insurance plan. There's no way her dad wouldn't investigate an unexpected procedure.

They ask around and find a place. It's a clinic a few towns over that opens after hours. They'll do it, completely off the record, for $250. It's a lot of money, but Eddie just pushes a few sales, maybe even pawns a few things he can spare. Reader takes as much of her savings as she's able without suspicion. They get the money.

She makes up a sleepover for that night and Eddie drives her to the appointment. They're both nervous as all hell, the ride down quiet except for the radio, turned so low it's barely on. It was too loud otherwise.

They go through the clinic's back door, lights still mostly off. It doesn't settle any of their nerves. The doctor performing the procedure tries to reassure them it's all routine, but he's also a little cagey. Eddie isn't sure if it's because of the illicit affairs or if he's trying to keep the appointments flowing. They pass off the money and Eddie waits in the other room anxiously as it happens.

She's woozy and shaky when she comes out, awake but not totally aware. The doctor tells him it's totally normal and it was totally fine, to take her home. He helps her into the car, wrapping her up with anything he can find in his van to make her comfy. The long drive back to Hawkins is just as quiet as the drive there was. Eddie helps her into the trailer and into bed.

She wakes up in agonizing pain, grabbing at Eddie beside her before she even realizes she's awake. Eddie is just as confused, trying to get the light on as she groans about how much it hurts. When the lights come on, they see the amount of blood on the bed. Eddie nearly faints.

In her pained mumblings, Eddie hears the word "hospital" and snaps back to attention. Of course. He had to get her to the hospital. He scoops her up, bloody sheets and all, and rushes to the van. He barely makes sure she's buckled in, not bothering with himself, before peeling out of the trailer park.

As they near the hospital, her clammy hand grabs at Eddie's forearm. He looks at her, eyes nervously shooting back and forth between her and the road.

"Eddie, as soon as we get there.... you have to leave."

Eddie is flabbergasted. "Like fucking hell, what the fuck are you-"

"They'll call my dad before I'm even in the system. You have to leave."

They argue the rest of the way to the hospital until Eddie is squealing into the emergency bay. Somehow, she convinces him to leave her. (If I had the answers, I'd be writing this as an actually piece by now. You signed up to read this.) He helps her until she forces him back, so the nurses don't see him. He watches her stumble a few steps before he screams out for help. She turns and glares at him for drawing attention, but he needed someone to get to her sooner. He holds up his hands in surrender, backing away. He manages to duck away so he isn't seen as the attendant notices her. He doesn't leave until he's sure she's inside and okay.

It's a long terrifying night, left trying to wash the blood off his sheets and the van and off his hands- all while trying not to think too hard about where it came from and how she is now...

When she wakes up post-op, she has to come clean to her family. Her father knows exactly what happened to land her in this situation and there's no use lying. She refuses to admit who the father was, and her parents assume it's to protect the reputation of the reasonable boy she pulled into her mess.

(Really wasn't sure what would happen from there. Just had some whump feelings but surprisingly my mental health has been good the last couple of days...)

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Live In Nanny

Villain!All Might x Reader

All Might raising baby Deku but is in desperate need of a nanny. 

TW: Yandere themes, breeding kink (our villain is ready to make the reader a mommy), dub con 

AN: literally just took Hero All Might and flipped him upside down. So baseline form is big buff boi and villain form is lanky but retains the strength.

Single father with a nine month old child, seeking live in nanny services. Negotiable pay. Negotiable time off/vacation days.

Toshinori was impressed with your interview. You had over 8 years of experience working with children between babysitting and working at a day care. Plus Izuku took to you immediately. It was just a bonus that you were easy on the eyes.

You agreed to begin immediately, trying not to let on that you were in desperate need of money and a place to stay. You didn't have much to move in. And, in comparison to the huge room you had been given, it seemed like you owned even less. You figured your new boss must get paid well. His house was huge, the largest you'd ever been in.

Your room was next to baby Izuku's. Settling in to a routine with the baby was easy. You weren't sure exactly what your employer did for a living, his schedule was sporadic, he would be in and out throughout the day. Whenever he was available he would stop by to love on the infant. It was clear that he was doing his best as a single parent, but house keeping wasn't his strong suit. You tried your best to help out with the chores and grocery shopping, after all he was paying you graciously and giving you a roof over your head.

The only bump in the road so far has been getting Toshinori's permission to take the little one on walks through the nearby park. According to the father, errands were one thing but what was the point of going to park? Izuku can't even walk, there wouldn't be any benefit. Eventually you convinced him, after rambling about how good it is for babies to be exposed to different levels of stimulation. You could show Izuku the ducks and dogs, plus he could see all the pretty spring time flowers.

The older man was worried, he feared that his child, and you for that matter, would be targeted by his enemies. Plenty of low life's would love to make a move against the notorious villain. But you wore down his resolve. So long as you would tell him before you went. Thankfully he could play it off as being a bit of a helicopter dad. He always has a spare crony he could send out there to watch over you two.

---

"What are you both doing," your bosses laugh filled the air.

You were in a very flattering position, palms on the floor stretching through your hips, ass hiked up with a tempting arch to your back. Then you pushed yourself forward, giving the giggling baby raspberries before returning to your original position.

"Baby yoga!" You smiled, oblivious to the growing bulge in the villains pants. "Right now we're doing downward facing dog and cobra."

He watched you cycle through the motions, hypnotized by your movements.

You took such good care of him and his baby. Ever since you got here you went above and beyond (very plus ultra of you). You even packed his meals to go when he had to rush off to a job. And you did it all with a smile and his kid bouncing away at your feet. The man allowed his mind to drift to the thought of you with his babies, Izuku on your hip and your round belly ready to pop.

You made an amazing nanny but you would make an even better housewife.

---

It wasn't until a week after Izuku's birthday that you learned about your bosses occupation. You were at the park and a stranger approached you to coo over Izuku.

"Such a little cutie, this is Toshi's kid, right?"

That caught you off guard, how did this person know Toshinori? You knew he was a protective dad and there something about this woman felt off.

"Well, either way, this is for you," she smiled as she passed you a manila envelope. "A little birdie wants you to have it."

You skeptically eyed the parcel as the woman disappeared through the park. You shoved it into Izuku's diaper bag before rushing back home.

You decided to peek into the envelope after settling 'Zuku down for the night. You curled onto the chair in his nursery, using his nightlight too sift through the documents. Various photos of Toshinori, your employer, amongst high profile criminals. Photos of the most terrifying villain among his infamous exploits. And finally a piece of paper with a single web address and access code. This was the most damning piece of evidence, All Might - the villain himself - joking amongst his companions before transforming into the man you knew as Izuku's father. Without this video you would have never even guessed. All Might was known for his unassuming nature, his slender frame concealing his god-like strength. Still he looked terrifying, like make children cry type terrifying. Toshinori on the other hand was massive but his sunny attitude made him approachable. For all these months you had been working for a criminal. A criminal with a child. You had been living with him, laughing and raising a baby, taking care of him and his family. Oh god, your late night fantasies of your boss, a total DILF, were fantasies of a sadistic monster.

The betrayal and shame brought you to tears. You should call the cops. Take Izuku far away from this place, from being exposed to his fathers atrocities. But you were torn, he was a good dad, he always put his son first and provided him with only the best. He would tear the world apart for Izuku even if he had to put a target on your back. You shook as you muffled your cries, trying not to wake the baby you cared so much for. Eventually you wrote yourself out, falling asleep in the nursery.

By the time Toshinori made it home it was close to two in the morning. As usual he tip toed into his sons room, shocked to find you curled up in the rocker asleep. He was quiet, surprisingly more so than in his slender form. As you made his way to wake you he was surprised to see your phone still unlocked, you had fallen to sleep with that video on loop. Underneath your phone was the envelope, he didn't need to look to know what was inside. He hadn’t woken either of you, managing to shut off your phone and pick you up with or so much as a peep. He decided rather quickly that he would wait for you to make the first move. At least in the mean time he could pretend you didn't care about his lifestyle and that you wouldn't try to leave him or his son.

"Toshinori," you mumbled as he was about to settle you into your bed. You were half asleep and groggy from crying.

"Go back to sleep, darling, it's late," he paused to sway with you, just like he did when putting down 'Zuku for a nap. He was shocked that it worked and finally escaped your room. You let him lull you back to sleep, further affirming his belief that you would stay.

---

The next morning you creeped downstairs. Izuku wasn't in his crib, meaning Toshinori was him. You found them both in the kitchen. The sight of the pair would usually warm your body but now shivers radiated down your spine.

"Look who's up, buddy, say good morning," he bounced the child, beaming like the happiest father.

Taking a deep breath you decided to rip off the band aid. "Mr Toshinori, I have to resign."

His pause was so long you wondered if he heard you.

"Did the video upset her that much, Zuzu?"

He looked at you with the same warmth he always did. "There's no need to be formal, you were fine calling me Toshi just the other day. Take a seat, I made pancakes, just like you like'em."

You complied, his unchanged demeanor intimidating you into submission.

"There's no need for you to quit," he started. "Nothing has changed aside from your level of awareness."

"I can't work for you knowing that you hurt people."

At that his smile faltered, "Darling, if you truly felt that way, you wouldn't be here. You would've slipped out early this morning."

You were silent. He was right, in a way. Trapped between what was right and what was best for Izuku. You'd never be able to do anything about your boss's criminal activity, even if you did and All Might was locked away, Izuku would suffer the most.

"Give yourself a few days to adjust, okay? If you still want to quit after that, we can reassess."

There's was a glint in his eyes that hinted he wasn't asking.

---

"I'll be back this evening," Toshinori told you a as he kissed Izuku's forehead. He was uncomfortably close as he returned the baby to your lap. "There's plenty of groceries so you don't need to go out today. I have a coworker out front, so don’t worry if you see someone outside."

"What are they doing?"

He placed a hand on the top of your hair, petting you like some cat.

"He'll just keep an eye on things. I need someone to make sure you stay put."

---

A week flew by with your employer pushing off the discussion of your resignation. He wouldn’t leave you unsupervised so just walking away wasn’t an option, besides could you really leave Izuku? 

Then the child came down with some type of bug and was absolutely miserable for several days. You couldn’t get much sleep as a result, even if his father was home for most of the day. 

---

Izuku finally fell asleep around three in the morning. You napped beside his crib out of fear he would wake up if you so much as changed positions.

Then you woke in Toshi's arms as he carried you down the hall.

"Where are we going," You whined, anxious to be away from the child.

"I told you to rest, instead I find you in the nursery."

"'Zuku is sick-"

"But he's asleep, there are baby monitors, not that he won't wake the whole city up with his cries. You've been up for nearly two days with him, time for bed."

But he wasn't taking you to your room. Instead he dropped you on to his bed.

"What are you doing?" You snapped.

"I don't need you sneaking back. I can keep an eye on you here. I'll take care of him if he starts crying." He rolled in next to you.

The bed was huge but so was your boss. "Stop wiggling."

"Well I can't get comfortable."

“Fine,” he said and pulled you into him, “now stop it and get some sleep.”

You burned with embarrassment, turning silent after several attempts at protest. Just as you began to drift off, Toshinori's hand moved to beneath your shorts. You shut your eyes, pretending not to notice. He probably didn't even realize what he was doing. Then his fingers grazed the spot where your skin met your panties.

"I know you aren't asleep yet, darling."

You didn't respond, opting to keep up the façade.

"Mmm, are we playing pretend? I don't mind."

You gasped, pushing at his hand, "I'm trying to sleep."

"I can see that," he chuckled. "I'm just helping you wear yourself out. You've been taking such good care of the baby, let me return the favor."

He jerked your hips, pressing you tightly against his bulge.

"You've been such a good mommy."

God the way you could feel your body responding made you hate that he was a villain.

"'M not-" You gasped as he did his fingers into your thighs. "His mom."

"You sure about that? I know how much you care about him. Always rushing to him when he’s cranky, never taking any days off. You make sure he's a happy little baby and you take such good care of his daddy. Isn't that's what mommies do?"

A moan slipped through your lips, "Stop."

"Are you sure? It seems like your having such a good time," he teased, sliding his hand to find your wetness.

Your body jerked involuntarily. He wasted no time tearing off your layers. Your determination quickly fading.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you," he pushed a finger in to your warmth.

You shivered at the sensation. Before you could register his actions there was another digit. He skillfully maneuvered his fingers to prep walls.

"What a tight like cunt," The man cooed. "So perfect and pretty. Just waiting for me to claim."

You gasped as he curled his fingers in you. Tears of pleasure pricking your eyes.

"Atta girl, I think you're ready to take daddy's cock."

You shouldn't be surprised when you saw how absolutely hung your boss is. There was no way the whole thing would fit inside of you.

Without hesitation All Might slowly began to press inside of you. The head of his cock already made it feel like you were tearing.

"Wait wait wait," You cried. "Too big."

He paused, reassuring you, "I know you can do it baby. You're okay."

You shook your head violently.

With a sloppy squelch he withdrew. He disappeared momentarily, give you much need time to breathe. Then he was back and you felt a cool, slick fluid rub against you. He applied a generous amount of lube knowing full well that if he played his cards right you'd happily be his forever.

Regardless there was still a painful pressure as he forced himself deeper.

"You're doing so good, taking me so well."

He was slowly increasing the speed off his hips. All you could manage was incoherent whines as his momentum bounced you back and forth.

"Toshi, Toshi," You panted.

"I don't think so baby girl," he slapped your thigh. "You know what I want to hear."

You couldn't be rational, not when he was pounding into you. All you knew was pleasure in this moment. How could you not give the man what he wanted when he was fucking you dumb.

"Mmm daddy, hurts so good."

"Ah- fuck yeah. I knew you were a little pain slut. You want me to fuck you like a whore and then treat you like my little princess?"

You nodded, gasping for air.

"You've been such a good little mommy, I think you deserve this little treat huh?"

You didn't respond, stubbornly refusing to tell the man what he was desperate to hear.

He shifted to a painfully slow pace as he would pull almost completely out just to slam back into your abused whole.

"And here I thought you wanted to cum, I can always stop here, finish myself later-"

"No! No no no, don't stop."

"Then repeat after me: I'm such a good mommy."

As you stayed silent until he began to move at a snails pace. So close to losing your high.

"O-kay, okay, I-I've been a good mom-mommy," You cried tried to buck against the giant.

And just like that your boss was pushing you back to the edge of an orgasm. You were sobbing from pleasure and frustration.

"I know,” He growled. “Fucking good girl, taking care of our baby while daddy's working. You're gonna look so pretty knocked up. All glowing and swollen. Bet your tits are gonna look so pretty when they get full. Gotta keep you stuffed with my cum so our little boy can have a sibling."

[running-with-kn1ves]

Jonas is some what aware that reader may not hold the same “intense” feelings like him, but he can see that he’s able to ”break” her and or her spirit. i mean in jonas’s head he’s not “forcing” her to love this asshole or some dead beat. In his head, jonas has all the qualities and more fit for a partner, father and more. This goes back to his moral compass, he’s at heart a good guy (that’s what he likes to reassure himself at least) he wants her to voluntarily be in love with him. but if he has to force her, he soothes his gulitity heart that ”he would be good to her” and ”at least he’s not a outrageously bad guy”. But he doesn’t believe he has to ”force” her just yet, he’s at the stage where he believes with a certain “work” she will fall for him (maybe not as intensely but he’s fine with it). He can see the internal conflict brewing in her eyes when something intimate happens (she trying to decide how to effectively react to it). and he’s totally the type to buy a house for her and not tell her after he buys it 😭😭😭, his reasoning is that he knows she wants it but doesn’t understand that you actually have to be patient and talk with your partner 💀. its a wolf thing i promise. I’ll like to think how he can help her become more carefree is that after a serious of bad work incidents (works in the fast food industry) and student loans is killing her. and she’s just totally breaking down. He comes in her job and sees this customer be totally heinous to her and she looks at the verge of crying. and settling his manners side for moment and completely skips the entire line of people waiting to buy food and just goes off on this person, and she runs away to the back, he follows her, he’s like ”please don’t cry. i set them straight” and he isn’t aware that she isn’t break down because of that incident alone but just her life in general and she’s really fucking tired and just wants to give up. that’s what she’s explains to him. and being the apathetic he is, he goes ”why dont you quit“, 😭😭😭. after some arguing they reach this point where they’re having this intense and deep talk about reader, he asks her some questions that make her rethink some decisions, example being attending college. Of course at the end of it, it isn’t totally where she’s like “yeah im just going to drop out of college and become a housewife”, it’s more she’s thinking about her future in a way she hasn’t before. and with the help with Jonas. she’s stop crying at this point and he’s cuddling her and then he takes her home and she spends the night at his place for the very first time. this is the milestone. reader is stubborn but she’s isn’t unchangeable. in a way reader and jonas are the same. they think their way of thinking is the only true way. but they learn when you want to start a relationship you sometimes have to give something but mostly learn how to compromise. After, he starts his development a bit such as becoming more emotional aware and sensitive that this triggers reader’s own development. Kinda cute how their futures are intertwine with each other.

Ahh I see. So in most attributes he *is* a good, rational guy, but not necessarily when it comes to his obsession. And to himself, I can't tell if he's a little cocky or if his confidence is well deserved lol. I mean he DOES have more positive attributes than most, and can most definitely provide for his family, but he's no perfect man when it comes to some things like emotional needs. But It makes sense that his guilt plays a part...

I wonder how long it’ll take jonas to get frustrated with how slowly things are moving between him and her. I mean, he already expects her to fall for him quickly, but upon realizing thats not going to happen, Im curious to know how long he’ll give her to begin to give in. I doubt he has a set time, but how long would he wait for her to succumb to him before moving to more drastic methods? And because she’s so stubborn, I think it’d take a bit. But I LOVE that eventually she finally has this mental breakthrough with jonas, realizing that theres another way to live, that there’s another way to look at things. Im interested to see how he’d become more in tune to her emotional needs; like, how he stops making decisions without asking for her input or her opinion. He seems like the type where there would be a lot of trial and error. He’d need a lot of patience when it comes to understanding what *she* wants and her emotional satisfaction, considering he’s so used to acting before asking. 

 I’m glad that she has this kind of development though; it draws her and jonas closer together and its like this kind of advancement that makes so much more room for their future. They both learn to compromise and become a somewhat healthy couple together. ಥ_ಥ

[goldenraeofsun]

There is Only Try, Part II

Read Part I here!

A love spell - that’s right. Cas is under a fucking love spell.

And like an exquisitely-built house of cards, it all tumbles down. Soundless and devastating.

Dean’s heart skips a beat, and not in the fun way like when he found out that widow housewife was down for an open relationship. He stares at Cas, the blood draining from his face.

“Dean?”

“The love spell,” Dean says hoarsely.

“What about it?”

“You only think you love me because of a love spell.”

Cas throws him a bemused look. “Sometimes I don’t understand you at all. You were right there when Rowena said it wouldn’t affect me in the same way if I already harbored feelings for you. For a moment I was worried you’d -”

“No,” Dean interrupts, “but magic doesn’t affect you the same. None of this is real.”

“What.” From Cas’s tone, it isn’t a question.

“Rowena’s attack dog spell!” Dean explains wildly. “It killed that girl Rowena was trying to recruit for her coven, but when she hit you with it, you didn’t die.”

“Obviously,” Cas says, eyes narrowing as he tries to follow along with Dean’s logic.

“It only dug deeper into you.” Dean exhales, a complicated mixture of embarrassment, rage, and dread settling heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Cas purses his lips. “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

Dean jerks back, stung. “You’re being… obtuse.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. “I started feeling this way years before we killed that last witch.”

“But what if it’s the spell making you think that? What if this is all because of the magic,” Dean starts, horror crashing down, “and I’m so fucking screwed when you’re back to yourself?”

“This is me,” Cas says, insulted.

“You don’t know that!”

“I actually do,” Cas protests, the faintest stirrings of anger creeping into his words. “This isn’t the spell, Dean.”

But Dean pushes away from the table, shaking his head. “No, no, no,” he repeats, hands balling into fists at his side. “Of course it’s the goddamn spell.” He shakes his head, feeling like the shittiest, lowest person on the planet. No fucking wonder it was too easy.

How messed-up in the head must Cas be to think he’s fallen for a human? For Dean?

Oh yeah, here’s everything Dean wanted right on a silver platter. It’s just, the last time he got a deal like that the little catch was his soul.

Dean’s too old to fall for this crap again.

He can’t look Cas in the face. “I’m gonna go check on Rowena,” he says gruffly.

Cas stands up. “I’ll come with you.”

Dean’s jaw clenches. He holds out a hand. “Don’t.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a hard line. “Despite my feelings for you, I am not yours to command. I will be going with you.”

Dean grunts acknowledgement, spinning on his heel for the door. It’s not like Dean has ever had any real say on Cas’s comings and goings - mostly goings nowadays.

Cas follows, his footsteps nearly silent on the Bunker’s floor.

Dean stomps down all the way down to the vault where they keep their most skeevy ingredients. He finds Sam and Rowena bent over a brass bowl. Their clothing is intact, thank god, but Rowena's hair has like three red curls out of place and her lipstick is smudged, so she’s the most mussed Dean’s ever seen her.

“You got the antidote to Cas’s little problem?” Dean asks brusquely, clomping down the stairs. He already feels claustrophobic surrounded by the windowless walls piled high with pickling jars and boxes spelled shut, never mind Cas boring holes into the back of his head.

Rowena looks up, blinking guilelessly at them. “Of course! It’s one of the most basic spells a witch can learn. I had it whipped up in a jiffy.”

“Then why didn’t you come get us?” Dean demands.

“I thought, while we had a little time, I might as well show Samuel some protection charms.” Rowena casts a sly look up at Sam. “He didn’t know any, the poor lamb. Totally unprepared. After all, you never know when the, ahem, mood will strike.”

Sam goes red in the face.

“Oh, gross.” Dean shudders.

Behind him Cas makes a wordless considering noise, which - Dean can’t think about right now.

Rowena’s gaze slips past Dean to Cas over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Cas steps forward, and Dean can practically feel the weight of Cas’s gaze on him. Dean doesn’t turn around; he can’t. He can’t look at Cas and know it’s the last time he’ll be seeing that half-exasperated, half-smitten expression on his face.

Rowena reaches behind the bowl and pinches a stoppered vial between her thumb and forefinger. She shakes it enticingly in Cas’s direction. “Bottoms up, dove.”

Gingerly, Cas steps forward to take it from her. He doesn’t make a move to drink it.

Dean huffs an irritated breath, his heart beating erratically in his chest at the look in Cas’s eye. “Go on,” he says through gritted teeth. “Take it.”

Cas purses his lips, fingers slipping on the cork.

“Christ,” Dean mutters, snatching it from Cas’s lax grip.

“Dean-” Sam starts reproachfully, but Dean ignores him as he opens the cure and thrusts it back in Cas’s direction.

Cas stares at the depths of the murky brownish substance, and Dean’s about to force it down Cas’s throat himself to get this torture over with when Cas finally swallows the potion.

They all watch him, Dean barely blinking not to miss anything.

“Well?” he asks as Cas just stands there, still as a statue.

Rowena waves her hand. “Revelio,” she barks, eyes flaring violet.

Nothing happens.

“The spell has been nullified,” Rowena announces smugly. “No need to pay me. Samuel has already seen to my… reimbursement.”

Dean scowls. “Again, gross.”

“Rowena -” Sam starts, casting an almost guilty look in Dean’s direction. “Stop.”

“Fine,” Rowena says airily, to Dean’s complete surprise. Maybe she’s not such a heinous bitch after all. “I’ve had my fun. It’s like taunting a small child - at some point it becomes all rather repetitive.”

Nope, still a bitch.

But before Dean can respond, Cas grasps him around the upper arm. “Don’t,” he murmurs.

“But she-”

“We need to talk,” Cas growls, almost herding him back up the stairs. “Sam can deal with Rowena.”

“Don’t worry, that part’s already happened, darlin’!” Rowena calls delightedly up to them.

“Hey,” Sam protests, but the next part gets cut off as Cas practically drags Dean back to his room.

In his room, Dean crosses his arms over his chest as Cas closes the door behind them. “What?” Dean says defensively. “If you’re looking for an apology - I’m sorry, okay? I know I fucked up.”

Cas huffs an impatient breath, shaking his head. “I understand our relationship is complicated, but I had hoped -” he breaks off. He leans against the door, keeping as much space as possible between him and Dean.

Unspoken message received, Dean falls heavily onto the edge of his bed, half-facing away from Cas. A riot of feelings he’d rather drink away are duking it out underneath his ribcage, but, in a burst of trademark Winchester forethought, he already finished off his bedroom emergency stash. “We don’t gotta talk about it, man,” he says to his hands.

“We clearly do,” Cas counters, eyeing him like Dean’s an easily spooked zoo animal, “if you don’t trust me enough to take me at my word.”

Dean raises his head. “What?”

Cas sighs. “I told you my feelings ran deeper than a simple love spell. I told you, I’ve admired you, cared about you, loved you since before we ever ran into that witch.”

Dean gapes up at him.

Cas meets his gaze squarely. “I love you, Dean. No spell is making me say it; it’s just me.” He inhales a swift breath. “But if you’ve changed your mind, if I’m not -” he pauses infinitesimally before soldiering on, “not what you want, you should tell me now. Before any more mistakes are made.”

Dean gets to his feet on shaky legs, very conscious of Cas’s apprehensive gaze watching him the whole time it takes him to cross his bedroom. He gets right up in Cas’s personal space, and clearly Cas has learned something because his eyes widen at Dean’s proximity.

Dean clears his throat. “I’m not good with words, Cas.”

Cas nods jerkily. “I know, and that’s fine.” He tries to take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go since he’s already backed himself up against the door.

“I don’t remember the last time I told someone I loved them to their face,” Dean says hesitantly, and it’s excruciating to say these things out loud. “Not Lisa. Not Bobby, or even Sam.” And before Cas can stumble right back out the door, Dean reaches for his hand. Dean’s palms feel gross and clammy, but Cas doesn’t seem to care, judging from the wonderful world of Disney look coming over his face. “So if you need that sort of thing, you’re angling to get with the wrong dude.”

Cas licks his lips, his fingers tightening around Dean’s. Slowly, he shakes his head. “A verbal confirmation, while nice, is not necessary.” He glances down at their clasped hands. “But hopefully, you’ll feel comfortable telling me someday.”

Dean shrugs. He won’t write it off completely, but he can’t start this… thing with Cas with any secrets.

“Until then,” Cas says, “I can see your soul. I just didn’t know how to read what you were feeling until now.”

Old Dean would’ve made some stupid quip about personal boundaries.

New and improved, loved Dean, is simply grateful Cas gets to use a cheat code for all the hard parts.

Cas makes the first move.

Breath hot and heavy against Dean’s lips, Cas grips the edges of Dean’s flannel, anchoring him to Cas’s front. His mouth is hungry as he kisses Dean, and Dean can’t help the way his hands reach up to tangle in Cas’s hair, dark and soft, and everything Dean’s ever dreamed of.

Cas makes a little wounded noise as Dean deepens the kiss, nipping at Cas’s bottom lip lightly. Cas’s hands slip under his shirt to grip his bare waist firmly, and Cas must run hotter than the average human because his touch is like fire against Dean’s skin.

Dean breaks away from Cas’s mouth to kiss at the hinge of his jaw, tonguing Cas’s pulse point as Cas gasps for air. He works the skin between his teeth, not enough to bruise or hurt, just enough to show Cas he means business.

Cas scrabbles for purchase against the door, grunting as he almost loses his footing.

“Why don’t we take this to the bed?” Dean murmurs.

“Are you sure?”

“If you are.” Dean licks his kiss-swollen lips. “You’ve done this before, right?”

Cas slowly shakes his head. “Not with a man.” Dean nods, already resigning himself to dealing with his thickening cock on his own, as Cas adds, “But I want to. With you.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Your only time was with that reaper, right?”

Cas huffs. “In practice, yes. But I spent millennia watching humans copulate. There’s hardly a sex act or position that would surprise me by now.”

Dean grins. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome to try,” he grumbles as Dean leads him towards his bed. “But for now, I’d like to bring you to orgasm with my mouth.”

Dean chokes. “You what?”

“I’ve given it a fair amount of thought,” Cas says as he methodically strips Dean of his flannel and shirt. “What I would do to your body if I had the chance. How I would use my knowledge of human anatomy and physiology to give you pleasure.”

“Fuck,” Dean rasps, transfixed by the sight of Cas’s sure hands working open his belt buckle. “Who knew you were such a kinky son of a bitch under that trench coat?”

“You would have known,” Cas points out, “if you’d ever bothered to ask.”

Dean chuckles breathlessly. “But that one time with the hooker - I could’ve spooked you with a strong breeze.”

Cas frowns in the middle of pulling Dean’s jeans and underwear down. “I didn’t want her. I want you.”

Fuck a holy oil molotov cocktail; Dean is going to combust just from that look on Cas’s face.

Dean steps out of his pants, frowning as he takes in Cas, still bundled up to the neck in suit and coat. “Looks like you’re overdressed, angel.”

Cas looks down at himself.

“Let me help,” Dean drawls, pushing Cas’s coat off first. He lets it fall to the floor in a puddle of tan fabric, quickly followed by Cas’s suit jacket. He captures Cas’s mouth in another kiss, blindly undoing the buttons of Cas’s shirt. He lets it flutter to the floor and yanks Cas’s undershirt over his head, laughing softly as Cas has a little trouble with the neck hole.

Cas surfaces, looking almost smite-y around the eyes. He crowds Dean up against the bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. “Lay down,” he orders quietly.

Dean complies, blushing furiously. He stares up at Cas, shirtless, belt buckle undone, pants unzipped. He can make out the slight bulge of Cas’s hard cock underneath the dark fabric.

Cas crawls over him, kissing him deeply, and Dean’s never been this turned on in his life. He yanks Cas’s pants the rest of the way off, grumbling as one leg gets caught around Cas’s ankle. Impatient, Cas shakes off the last of his clothing, and he’s gloriously bare, bent over Dean.

Cas slots his leg between Dean’s, his thigh lightly brushing against Dean’s hard cock, and Dean has to actively concentrate not to rut against Cas and shoot his load in thirty seconds flat. He groans as Cas applies a bit of pressure.

“Are you ready?” Cas rumbles.

“To die of blue balls?” Dean gripes.

Cas shoots him an unimpressed look before he shimmies down Dean’s body so his face is more in line with Dean’s crotch. Thank god Dean doesn’t need to memorize this for spank bank material; any recollection would hardly do it justice - the feel of Cas’s hot breath over his cock, the way Dean’s heartbeat is thundering with anticipation, the expression on Cas’s face like Dean is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Cas actually licks his lips.

Goddamn, Cas hasn’t even really touched him yet, and Dean’s so fucking done.

Dean groans as Cas wraps his hand around him, his grip gentle but sure. He gives Dean a few experimental pumps, and Dean’s in serious danger of letting this all end too quickly.

“Slower,” he says through gritted teeth, “or I’m gonna come.”

Cas blinks. “Already?”

“Yes,” Dean says testily. “You’re hot, and I’ve jacked off to this exact scenario a bunch of times - so, yes, ‘already.’”

Far from looking disappointed, Cas’s expression turns distinctly smug as he sits back slightly on his haunches, slowing the pace of his hand to a crawl.

Breathing harshly through his nose, Dean grunts, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Cas says at once. “I’ve witnessed plenty of premature ejaculations.”

“So reassuring.”

“Dean,” Cas says, leaning forward so they’re practically nose-to-nose, “If you’re really concerned about coming too soon, I can get you hard again.”

“Dude, I get that you have high expectations, but I’m not a teenager anymore,” Dean says. “I can get it up like max three times in a whole day, and, even then, that’s only with good pacing and a lot of time on my hands.”

“You misunderstand me,” Cas says, pressing a swift kiss to Dean’s mouth. “I wouldn’t leave your erections up to chance.”

As Dean stares up at him, uncomprehending, Cas’s eyes flare electric blue.

Oh shit.

“You can do that? Give me a,” Dean struggles for the right word, “grace boner?”

Cas winkles his nose in distaste, and that’s it; Dean will always call it a grace boner from now on. “It would be no different than manipulating your body’s physiology to speed up healing or render you unconscious.”

“Dude, we have to work on your dirty talk,” Dean says, grinning.

Cas rolls his eyes but ducks back down to get his hands back on Dean’s cock. Dean hisses at the contact, but Cas ignores him. Cas tightens his grip, one corner of his mouth quirking up as Dean’s hips jerk and twist in response.

Dean inhales sharply, his fingers twisting in the sheets, as Cas bends down lower to lick the head. The wet, slick touch is gone too soon, and Dean moans at the loss, “C’mon, Cas.”

Cas laves his tongue over Dean’s dick a few more times, slowly, savoring the taste like a fucking gourmand. Which - flattering, but also totally not what Dean needs right now. He squirms on the bed, trying to get more of Cas’s mouth on him.

Cas doesn’t give an inch. “Patience, love,” he murmurs, one hand splaying possessively over his abdomen.

“Christ,” Dean gasps as Cas licks a long stripe up his cock, root to tip. He gets one flash of brilliant blue eyes before Cas ducks his head, swallows Dean down, and sucks like his life depends on it.

“Fuck!” Dean’s hips buck violently, seeking more of that delicious heat, but Cas keeps him still with a hand that might as well have been made of iron. And, Jesus, if that not pinging all of Dean’s buttons. Dean groans as Cas gives a particularly hard pull.

Cas pulls off of him, licking his lips in a lewd display that sends every last blood cell Dean has left rushing south. “Are you alright?”

“Am I-?” Dean gasps incredulously. He laughs, breathy and not at all sounding like himself. “I’m good, buddy. I’m fucking awesome.”

Cas smiles. “I’m glad.”

Dean's response gets cut off with a low moan as Cas gets back to worshipping Dean's cock. Cas swirls his tongue around the head as his other hand reaches around to pump the shaft in time with the movements of his tongue.

Soon, far too fucking soon, Dean feels the telltale tingles of an oncoming orgasm.

A strangled “Cas-” is all the warning he can get out before he comes with a shout. It feels like Cas’s throat wrings every last drop from him, leaving him in a hazy euphoria.

Cas straightens, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and Dean has never seen anything hotter. “Was that satisfactory?” he asks, his voice raspy from the workout.

Dean gapes up at him. “Yeah.” He reaches for Cas’s hand, tugging him back down to the bed. “C’mere.”

Cas goes, a bemused expression on his face. “Like this,” Dean murmurs, positioning Cas on his back as Dean rolls to his side. He reaches down between them, wrapping his fingers around Cas’s cock. It’s been a while since he’s done it to someone else, but handjobs aren’t exactly rocket science.

Dean’s so used to studying Cas’s normally stoic face for signs of what he’s really thinking, it’s easy as pie to key into Cas’s tells now. He grins as Cas lets out a little surprised gasp, adding more pressure as Cas breathing speeds up. As Cas shakes apart, Dean kisses him through it.

Dean flops back, turning his head to watch Cas bask in his own post-orgasm afterglow.

“That was… very nice,” Cas says eventually.

“You bet your fucking ass it was nice,” Dean retorts. He bites his lip. “You really wanna do this? With me?”

“I love you,” Cas says simply. “Why wouldn’t I at least want to try?”

And when Cas puts it like that, Dean can’t find a single reason not to.

[corinnesamuels]

Guarding the Gates, Chapter 8: A Fine Gentleman with Questionable Taste in Friends

James has been dreading this moment since he was discharged from St. Mungo’s.

But if he’s honest with himself, he knows that he’s been dreading this for a lot longer—months, maybe even a year before. It’s why he’s never gone through with it. It had been easier to let things continue than deal with the awkwardness and potential drama of a breakup.

That reluctance and hesitation had come at a cost, though, hadn’t it? There was nothing to be done about it now.

James lets this sentiment steel him as he knocks on the door of Miranda’s flat. Their last conversation had been less than pleasant, and he’s prepared for a similar response when she opens the door. But he’s thrown for a loop when she answers with a broad smile, as if seeing him had made her entire day.

“James! Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out of the hospital today? I would have come and picked you up.” Miranda hugs him and kisses him softly on the lips before stepping back to let him inside.

James is stunned. While he hadn’t expected her to be happy to see him, he definitely hadn’t been prepared for her to greet him as if their last conversation didn’t happen. Surely, she hadn’t forgotten—

Oh. He thinks to himself as he registers what’s going on.

It isn’t that Miranda has forgotten their tiff in St. Mungo’s. She’s employing their usual method of working through problems: avoidance.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Miranda asks. He sighs to himself at her overly casual tone.

That’s exactly what this is.

“Right, sorry.” James says as he walks in. His eyes travel across her flat, immaculately decorated and tidy, as always. A picture of the two of them sat on the mantle. He supposes that they were at some Puddlemere or Ministry-do because of the dress robes they wore. As James watches the two of them pose and smile in the frame, he sees the photographic version of himself pull her in but notices that he doesn’t hold her there. Their doppelgangers don’t laugh or share an inside joke, they don’t gaze deeply into each other’s eyes adoringly, but they do smile at each other, looking happy enough.

That thought, “happy enough,” unsettles him.

“I don’t have much by way of dinner, but it’s a bit early for that anyway. I suppose we could pop into that place near King’s Cross that we’ve been meaning to try.” Miranda says as she walks over to the loveseat and sits, waiting for him to join her.

James takes a deep breath. “I didn’t come for dinner, Miranda.” he says. “We can’t pretend like our last conversation didn’t happen.”

Miranda freezes for a moment before shaking her head with a small laugh. “Oh, that? I’m not worried about that. I know you were probably still in shock from your injuries and the mayhem that had happened that night.” She waves her hand dismissively, but James sees her demeanor falter.

“Miranda, we can’t keep doing this.” He says softly.

“Doing what, James?” she says through gritted teeth.

“We can’t keep pretending like things are okay or that things are working.” He says, sitting down in one of the armchairs across from her. She looks bothered that he doesn’t join her on the sofa, but he knows they need some distance for this conversation. “I know that you see it, Miranda.”

“See what? That you’re throwing away everything that we’ve built?” she asks angrily, crossing her arms and looking away from him.

“What have we built?” He asks. It isn’t forceful or unkind. Just a simple question to which he knows—they know—there is little response.

Miranda sighs heavily but only shakes her head. She still won’t look at him. They sit in silence for a while, and James alternates between watching her and the photograph on the mantle. He almost laughs as he realizes that even in photograph form, the two can only go through the motions. How had he not realized that this wouldn’t have worked?

“Is it her?” Miranda asks finally.

“Miranda—”

“Is. It. Her.” She repeats, forcefully punctuating each word.

“No. This is wholly and totally you and I.” He says, relieved that it’s the truth. This could be so much more complicated if it weren’t. “Things weren’t working before Lily even came back into town. You know this.”

“Yes, well, I thought things were getting better. It seems I was mistaken.” She says crossly.

“Did you think they were getting better, or did you think we had just gotten better at going through the motions?”

Miranda doesn’t respond to this question either.

“Somehow, we’ve been together almost two years, but we barely know each other.” He says. “We’ve learned more about each other in our arguments in these last few months than we ever knew before. Did you know that I had no idea that you and the boys never really got on?”

“Do I need to be chummy with your mates in order to be with you?”

“Yes.” James doesn’t hesitate. “With other blokes, maybe not. But with me, I’d follow them into war. And you aren’t the type to be okay with that.”

“Oh, so you do know me now?” Miranda says, looking away from him again.

James lets out a dry laugh and smirks despite the situation. “That’s one of the things I learned recently.” He pauses and studies her for a moment. James knows that this conversation will be difficult enough without it going south. But he also knows that he owes it to her to consider her feelings in this space. Just because they aren’t compatible doesn’t mean that they need to be harsh with each other in the conversation.

“The reality is that you deserve to be with someone who wants the things you want, Miranda.” James says. “Someone who you have a real connection with, whose priorities are in line with your own. And it’s been abundantly clear for a while now that I’m not that person. We just aren’t that person for each other.”

Miranda runs a hand over her mouth and shakes her head before clasping her hands together tightly in her lap. “We were happy once, weren’t we?” She asks softly, almost imploringly.

“Happy enough, I think.” The phrase has left his lips before he remembers the discomfort it had given him earlier.

Miranda laughs this time, though there’s no mirth in it. “‘Happy enough’ isn’t the same as ‘happy’ though, is it?”

James realizes that this is the crux of the issue. “No, I don’t suppose that it is.” He says. “Do you disagree?”

“Do I disagree with what ‘happy enough’ means, or do I disagree with the idea that ‘happy enough’ is all we were?” she asks.

“Both.” James shrugs.

“No. I don’t disagree.” The façade Miranda maintained during the early part of their conversation has all but fallen away. James notes that this is probably the most honest that they’ve ever been with each other. She begins to grow restless now and stands up to pace the room as an outlet for her nervous energy.

“My parents aren’t discrete about their concerns with me being unmarried at my age.” She says. “They’d assumed that I’d leave Hogwarts engaged and would be a happy housewife by now. When you and I began dating, it got them off of my back. I went through the motions because it was easier than feeling like an old maid.”

“Miranda, you’re not old.” James says disbelievingly. “None of this stuff matters. It’s just old-fashioned nonsense.”

“To you.” She corrects him. “It’s nonsense to you, James. It feels quite real to me.”

James doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“I thought that if we stuck it out, things would be fine. My parents weren’t madly in love when they got together. It was a good match that grew over time.” She shrugs. “And then recently, I thought that if I convinced you not to be so outspoken about whatever is going on with You-Know-Who, that you’d make the time for us to finally settle down and be happy.” She looks at the photograph that had caught his attention earlier, brushing her fingers across it lightly.

“Happy enough.” James says, echoing their earlier conversation.

Miranda gives another mirthless laugh. “Happy enough.”

“We don’t even look at love the same way.” James says, mostly to himself. “This situation being what it is . . . This is on me. I can be honest and say that I didn’t give our relationship full effort until recently, and by then, it was too late. I never cheated on you, not with Lily or anyone else, but I wasn’t quite what you deserved either.”

“And I wasn’t quite what you needed.” She looks at him now, and he sees something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in some time: understanding. “So, what now?” she asks. “Am I supposed to do the cliché thing and cry and beg you to stay? Say that I can’t breathe without you? Tell you that I’ll pretend to like your mates more than I do?”

“Merlin, no.” James laughs outright this time. “No. I think what we do now is acknowledge that this is the right thing to do, and then I’ll leave. And you’ll find some bloke who will really make you happy. Someone who will go to the fancy events, live a quiet life with you, and be a better partner to you than I could ever be.”

“Let’s hope so.” She replies with a weak smile.

James notes that she looks disappointed, but she doesn’t look at all sad. He takes this as confirmation as he stands and pulls her into one last hug, kissing her lightly on the forehead when she finally returns it. “Goodbye, Miranda.” He says as he grabs his cloak and walks toward the door.

“James.” She calls to him when his hand reaches the doorknob. He turns to look at her, hoping she doesn’t try to talk him into staying. “You may not be leaving me for her, but I know you’re still in love with her. I knew the moment you added her name to your Puddlemere ticket list.”

James doesn’t know what to do with that statement, so he gives her one last nod and half a smile before walking out the door. She was wrong, of course. But correcting her wouldn’t have made the conversation any better. Not when the truth was that he had never taken Lily off of his ticket list in the first place.

Subconsciously, he always hoped Lily would come back, even when he stopped believing that she actually would. Peter had teased him lightly for it, but he wasn’t bothered. If that meant that he was in love with Lily, James didn’t know.

He is pondering over what this might mean when he makes it back to the manor. He waves hello to his father, who is half asleep in his armchair, and walks up the stairs to his room. The exhaustion of the day hits him all at once as he closes the door, causing him to lean his back against it and close his eyes to catch his breath. A flash of fire catches his attention when he opens them.

A red phoenix feather is suspended in the air in the middle of his bedroom, half enflamed, with a note hanging from the bottom.

Read the rest at ao3!

Start from the beginning.

[aellynera]

Mr. & Mrs. Cooper (Part 3 - Bud Cooper x Reader)

MR. & MRS. COOPER - PART 3

(yes, finally finished. it really did get away from me but i think it wrapped up okay. it’s done at least. wheeee!)

PART ONE ☕ PART TWO

Word Count: 2061(ish)

Summary: The visit from your neighbor lays all the truth out, and one indispensable one is this: always consider which mug you should drink your coffee from.

Warnings: Some language and activities NOT condoned for home use (but not what you’re thinking.)

Bud stepped back from the doorway to allow Stevens to come inside. You hastily picked up the broom and returned it to the kitchen. You shot a look over your shoulder at your husband, who shrugged helplessly and motioned his head toward the coffee pot. Right. Make some coffee. That was a perfect idea and what you should do as the gracious hostess you were. You nodded back.

Perfect house, perfect life, perfectly husband, perfect wife. And currently, perfectly screwed.

Bud motioned to one of the chairs in the living room for your neighbor to take a seat. Bud took a seat in the opposite chair. “So, what can we do for you, Stevens?”

Mr. Stevens regarded Bud warily, still glancing back and forth between you and your husband. “Oh, you know, I was just...out in the yard and it sounded like there was some ruckus going on and I just wanted to make sure things were okay.”

He considered, briefly, asking for a description of the ruckus, just to buy more time, but figured that would probably not gain any advantage. “Oh, yeah, that. It’s nothing,” Bud laughed. He tried to make it sound genuine. “Everything is great over here. Right, dear?”

You looked up from the coffee preparation and smiled. Your lips felt tight and you could feel the strain setting in behind your eyes but you hoped your face appeared natural to your neighbor. “Oh, yes,” you replied cheerfully. “Everything is fine.” You took three mugs out of the cabinet and scooped the coffee grounds into the filter. One manicured finger tapped idly on the counter top as you waited. Just...act natural. Normal. Normal natural happy housewife. Fucking hell.

Stevens smiled and nodded, then returned his attention to Bud. “Well, if you need anything at any time, you know where to find us. Neighbors, always happy to help.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Bud gave Stevens his best “don’t bullshit me” look. He folded his hands across his lap and leaned back in the chair.

Stevens looked from Bud to the kitchen and back again, again. His mouth drew into a thin line and his eyes narrowed. “Not here to mess around, Bud. Does she know?” he whispered.

Bud chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Apparently Stevens wasn’t going to buy the “everything is fine” assurances, and frankly, Bud couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t buy the flimsy pretext either if their positions were reversed. He knew Stevens knew. But he could pretend that he didn’t. Maybe. Damn it. Oh well.

His brow creased and lips puckered. “No,” he mouthed silently to Stevens. Stevens definitely didn’t look like he was buying it. “Could you, uh, give me a moment?” Bud motioned towards the kitchen and moved towards you as Stevens kept a suspicious eye on both of you.

You heard Bud coming up behind you but didn’t turn around. Bud didn’t know it yet, but you had also heard Stevens. Stevens was terrible at trying to whisper. He was terrible at trying to be sneaky at all, really.

“Need some help, darling?” Bud asked, loud enough so Stevens could hear.

“Why, yes, thank you, that would be lovely,” you replied, equal in volume.

Bud came up beside you and dropped his voice to a hiss and he spoke quickly. “He knows you know.”

A side-eye glare slapped Bud in the face. “That I know what?” you hissed back, just as quick. “That you were supposed to take out a hit on me?”

“Technically he hired me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are all the neighbors in the mafia?!”

“No, just...most of them.” If it were any other time, Bud Cooper would have laughed. At this moment, and all the moments since he walked in the door at 6:00 p.m. sharp just like he always did, he was also fairly sure that if he did laugh, you would deck him.

Granted, it would be justified. But he wasn’t going to chance it.

“I wasn’t actually going to kill you, you know.” He busied himself by filling up the sugar bowl.

“Oh, so my name was just accidentally on your hit list?” Your finger kept tapping the counter as you waited for the coffee to drip. 

“Yes. No. Well, sort of…no.” Bud allowed a small huff of exasperation to escape his lips. “Okay, look, I don’t actually carry out the hits, I just...arrange them.”

You arched a well-defined brow at him. “So you were going to arrange for someone to kill me. Same outcome, Mr. Cooper.”

“No!” he snapped. “I was trying to figure out a way to get out of it. I never wanted you to find out about it. Did you really think I was...that I could...baby, I would never...I could never hurt you, I--” he paused but still didn’t fully turn to meet your gaze, still trying to act normal. Natural. Just...act totally natural and normal.

You regarded him as best you could in your periphery, not turning your head. But you could feel your anger and frustration start to fade. He was your husband. It was Bud Cooper, the man you married, not just a hired goon for some local suburban crime syndicate. Of course he wasn’t going to actually kill you. Or have you killed. Whichever.

The coffee was done anyway, and you took the pot and began to pour the fragrant dark liquid into the mugs. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t going to turn you in, either.”

Bud filled the cream jug and set it on the tray along with the sugar bowl. “What’s up with the photographs, then?” His volume was still low, but his tone had softened considerably.

You sighed. Your response matched his volume and tone. “They hired me to work surveillance on you, but never said why. Just to take pictures. But then things started to feel...off...so I purposely spilled water on the envelope after I addressed it and put it in the mailbox anyway so it would look legitimate. But the return address wasn’t supposed to get messed up, it was supposed to come back here and then I was going to burn everything.”

“Jesus, we really are a pair,” he chuckled softly, finally turning toward you as you placed the last mug on the tray. And he could feel his anger and frustration starting to fade. You were Mrs. Cooper, his wife, the woman he married, not just some secret spy hired to do covert surveillance on him. Of course you weren’t actually going to turn him in.

“I’ll get the tray.”

He took the tray and started to turn towards the living room, when you reached out and gently grabbed his wrist. His eyes gave you a questioning look.

“Bud...just...don’t use the green cup.”

You turned and made your way back into the living room and perched on the sofa across from the two chairs. Bud placed the tray on the table between you and selected a mug - the blue one, you were relieved to notice. You knew he heard you, but, well...sometimes men didn’t pay all that much attention, if you were being honest.

As long as Bud paid attention.

And Bud did pay attention. Bud paid attention as you asked Stevens if he would like cream or sugar in his coffee. Bud paid attention as you prepared the drink per your neighbor’s request and handed Stevens the green mug, keeping the red mug for yourself. Bud paid attention as Stevens downed about half the mug of coffee in one swallow. Bud paid attention as Stevens started to ask questions about...well, Bud didn’t really pay attention to that part because honestly, Stevens was an annoying prick and Bud couldn’t care less what that ass was asking about.

But Bud certainly paid attention when Stevens suddenly stopped moving, his face turned an alarming shade of crimson, and his breath wheezed out of his lungs in sharp, painful-sounding bursts. And he paid attention when Stevens’s eyes bugged out of his skull and he abruptly fell from the chair, sprawled on the floor, and ceased to move.

Bud looked at you, curiosity evident.

“I told you, don’t use the green mug,” you shrugged and took a sip from your mug.

Bud’s mouth opened and closed several times before he finally got words out. “What did you put in there?”

You placed your mug back on the tray. “Strychnine.”

Bud slowly nodded and blinked once. He looked dumbfounded. “Efficient.”

“Well,” you bit your lip, “he was probably going to start asking very uncomfortable questions, since he’s also the one who hired me, so...I took care of it?”

Bud, to his credit, didn’t bother to ask why or how you just happened to have strychnine in the kitchen. He motioned for you to come over to him. You stood and did so, settling onto his lap as his arms wound around your waist. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. You just sat there, perfect wife and perfect husband in your perfect house with your perfect life.

Until you remembered the perfectly dead neighbor on your floor.

You pointed at Stevens. “So what are we gonna do with him?”

“Don’t you think you did enough?” Bud smirked, but you saw the teasing glint in his eyes.

You slapped at his chest. “I’m serious, Bud. We can’t leave him there. And really, considering what just happened, we should probably consider making ourselves disappear.”

Bud nodded. “Probably. I’d wager a guess that, if he hired both of us, he was probably working for himself. But questions are gonna pop up about why we’re both still alive and going about our business.”

“About that.” You turned his head so he looked at you. “You were saying in the kitchen. About how you weren’t going to have me killed?”

“God, no,” Bud Cooper had the decency to actually sound offended. “Baby, no. I could never do that. I love you. I love you. The only place I might take you down a little bit is in the bedroom.”

Your laugh - your perfect, beautiful laugh - was music to his ears.

“And I wasn’t going to turn you in,” you replied as you ran your fingertips over his jaw. “And we were going to get to this point sooner or later anyway. I mean, for all of our acting as a perfect suburban couple, I was gonna have to eventually tell you about the whole surveillance thing.”

“Yeah, we’re a pair, all right,” Bud repeated his earlier sentiment.

“At least we’re morally dubious together.” Your lip quirked.

“I don’t think that was in the marriage vows,” Bud laughed.

His laugh - his perfect, wonderful laugh - was music to your ears.

“I’m sorry I never told you I had mob ties,” he apologized.

“I’m sorry I never told you I had intelligence connections,” you apologized.

Bud hummed and brushed kisses along your knuckles. “Now, as for him. There’s that construction lot a few blocks over? Where they’re building more of these bullshit cookie cutter boxes? After it gets dark, we can take him there.”

“Bullshit cookie cutter boxes? Bud Cooper. I thought you liked this perfect community with this perfect house and perfect life.”

“Nah. Wherever you are, that’s perfect for me.”

You blushed furiously. No matter what else happened, he really was your perfect husband.

“So...where are we going to go?” You asked. “I hear the Caribbean is nice.”

“I hear that too.”

“And I know where we can get the money for it,” you continued.

Bud smiled. “And where would that be, Mrs. Cooper?”

A wicked grin spread across your face. “Well, I know for a fact that you sold the Mr. Stevens an insurance policy a few years back, and I’m almost certain that Mrs. Stevens would not want any news of her husband’s...unsavory...activities to get around the neighborhood, especially in the Sunday women’s group. I mean, it would be absolutely scandalous.”

“Mrs. Cooper,” a wicked grin of his own spread across Bud’s face. “Are you suggesting…”

“Bud Cooper, I am not suggesting anything. I am merely stating facts.”

He shook his head and pulled you down into a kiss. “The Caribbean sounds nice,” he said against your lips.

You really were his perfect wife.

~end~

[papermoonloveslucy]

SPEECH FOR CIVIC ORGANIZATION

February 4, 1949

“Speech for Civic Organization” (aka “Liz Debates Alaska in Town Forum”) is episode #29 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on February 4, 1949 on the CBS radio network.

Synopsis ~ Liz, anxious to win the approval of an important dinner guest, simply agrees with everything he says. The guest is so impressed with her intelligence that he invites her to be a speaker at his next civic forum.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benadaret was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

REGULAR CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born as Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.”  From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz (above right), a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) and Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) had not yet joined the cast as regular characters.  

GUEST CAST

Frank Nelson (Mr. Barton) was born on May 6, 1911 (three months before Lucille Ball) in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He started working as a radio announcer at the age of 15. He later appeared on such popular radio shows as “The Great Gildersleeve,” “Burns and Allen,” and “Fibber McGee & Molly”. This is one of his 11 performances on “My Favorite Husband.”  On “I Love Lucy” he holds the distinction of being the only actor to play two recurring roles: Freddie Fillmore and Ralph Ramsey, as well as six one-off characters, including the frazzled train conductor in “The Great Train Robbery” (ILL S5;E5), a character he repeated on “The Lucy Show.”  Aside from Lucille Ball, Nelson is perhaps most associated with Jack Benny and was a fifteen-year regular on his radio and television programs.

Steve Allen (Scott Campbell, Expert on Alaska) was a talk show and variety host as well as a published composer. Although he was seen with Lucille Ball on awards and quiz shows, their first time acting together on screen didn’t come until 1978′s “Lucy Calls The President”.  In 1980, Ball appeared on the premiere of “The Steve Allen Comedy Hour”. He died in 2000 at age 78. 

TRIVIA: Madelyn Pugh and Bob Carroll Jr. were writers for the Steve Allen radio show and left that job to write for “My Favorite Husband.”  They paid Allen to write his own show one week so they could focus on creating a script submission for “My Favorite Husband.”

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers tonight, they’ve settled down for a quiet evening at home. Liz has discovered an intelligence quiz in a magazine, but she’s having George’s attention, because he is lost in a gripping, blood-curdling murder mystery.” 

George is reading “The Mummy’s Tummy” but Liz spoils the ending to get his attention. George can’t seem to answer any of the IQ questions correctly. 

Q: “What is the name for the chemical formula H2S04?”  

A: Sulfuric Acid

Q: “What does it say on the lid of a United States mailbox?” 

A: Pull Down

Q: “For what was Ma Ferguson noted?” 

A: The first woman Governor of Texas

George decides to quiz Liz, asking her a few questions. 

Q: “What is the poop deck of the ship?” 

Liz’s Answer: “The deck where the sailor’s rest when they’re pooped.”

Real Answer: “A raised portion of the rear deck.” 

Q: “Does sound travel faster or slower in water than it does in air?” 

Liz’s Answer: “Next question.”

Q: “Chicle is the main ingredient in chewing gum. Where is the largest deposit found?”

Liz’s Answer: “Under theatre seats.”

Liz realizes that they aren’t very smart and should probably do something about it. Dr. Guilfoyle, author of the quiz, suggests that a score under 50 needs to be addressed.  

Liz is going to send for his book “How To Improve Yourself.” 

LIZ: “Look at the people who recommend this book: Truman and Goldwyn.” GEORGE: “Harry Truman and Sam Goldwyn?” LIZ: “No, Sam Truman and Harry Goldwyn!” 

Harry Truman (1884-1972) was the 33rd president of the United States from 1945 to 1953, succeeding Franklin D. Roosevelt after his death. He implemented the Marshall Plan to rebuild the economy of Western Europe, and established the Truman Doctrine and NATO. Sam Goldwyn (1879 -1974) was a film producer best known as the founder of several motion picture studios in Hollywood. 

A few days later, the book has arrived and Katie the Maid notices Liz is engrossed in it. Liz states that the Doctor has three rules to impress people: 

Learn Ten New Words a Day

Be a Good Listener

Have One Subject Down Cold So You Can Steer The Conversation Around To It

Liz’s has already got her ten new words and has put them in a sentence.

LIZ: “By assiduous application, I have promulgated a plethora of altruistic ubiquity and lugubrious perspicacity.”

The telephone rings, it is George telling Liz he is bringing home an important person named Mr. Barton, to dinner.  

LIZ: “How important is he, George? Sirloin, T-bone, meatloaf, or hash?” GEORGE: “Strictly sirloin.” 

George explains that Mr. Barton is the one who picks the speakers for the open forums in town. George wants to get picked to be one of the first speakers so he can impress his boss, Mr. Atterbury, and possibly land a raise. George warns Liz to be herself and not try to impress him. 

Liz decides to enact rule #3 and cracks open an encyclopedia to pick the subject.  Much to her surprise, the subject she randomly picks is bees!   Walking up to the house that evening, Mr. Barton (Frank Nelson) confides in George that he is looking forward to meeting a simple housewife, since in his line of work the women are always trying too hard to impress him with their intellect.   George introduces Liz to Mr. Barton, who immediately notices that her vocabulary is amped up. Unfortunately, Liz is using the wrong words most of the time, saying ‘plethora’ for ‘pleasure’ and ‘diversify yourself’ for ‘divert yourself.’

George assures a nervous Mr. Barton that Liz is ‘just an old fashioned girl’.

MR. BARTON: “Sounds like she’s had too many Old- Fashioneds!” 

An Old Fashioned is a cocktail made by mixing sugar with bitters and water, adding whiskey or brandy, and garnishing with orange zest and a cocktail cherry. It is traditionally served in a special glass called an Old Fashioned glass.  A variation on this wordplay was used on “I Love Lucy” in “Million Dollar Idea” (ILL S3;E13) in 1954 when Lucy (disguised as an average housewife selected at random) describes the taste of Aunt Martha’s Old Fashioned Salad Dressing to deliberately encourage buyers to cancel. 

LUCY: “Looks like Aunt Martha had too many Old-Fashioneds!” 

In the kitchen, George tells Liz to stop using fancy words, so Liz moves on to rule #3 - her special subject: bees!  She no sooner starts buzzing about bees when she is chided by George. 

GEORGE (sternly aside): “Liz! Haven’t you forgotten? Mr. Barton’s forum!” LIZ: “Well, I’m for ‘em, too!”

Coincidentally, Lucille Ball was one of several actors known as ‘Queen of the ‘B’s’ - which referred to ‘B’ pictures - films that were done quickly, on a budget, with lesser-known actors. In 1963′s “Lucy’s Barbershop Quartet” (TLS S1;E19) Lucy suggests they sing about bees! 

Mr. Barton tells George he is going to sponsor a Shakespearean Company, if they can convince the City Council to fund them. 

LIZ: “To bee or not to bee!” 

"To be, or not to be" is the opening of a soliloquy by Prince Hamlet in William Shakespeare's play Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1. In the speech, Hamlet contemplates death and suicide. It is one of the most quoted phrases in all of literature. To Be or Not to Be is a also the title of a 1942 film starring Lucille Ball’s good friend Carole Lombard and Jack Benny, who later became her next door neighbor. The plot concerns a troupe of actors in Nazi-occupied Poland. The film was released one month after Lombard was killed in an airplane crash.

George drags Liz into the hall again, warning her to stop talking about bees! After telling him to “mind his own beeswax”, Liz reluctantly agrees just to listen attentively and agree with everything Mr. Barton says. This works so well, that Mr. Barton barely acknowledges George, but only talks to Liz!  He is so impressed by Liz, he offers to have her on the panel of their very first forum on Saturday night!  She instantly agrees!

Two days later she learns that the forum’s topic is “the effect of jet propulsion and supersonic flight on the future of aviation.” But Liz is un-phased. She has been preparing by buying a new dress, which she tells George has ‘a dive bomb neckline.’  

George and Liz role play to prepare for the forum. Against George’s advice, Liz intends to talk about the Wright Brothers!  

Orville and Wilbur Wright were inventors and pioneers of aviation. In 1903 the Wright brothers achieved the first powered, sustained and controlled airplane flight; they surpassed their own milestone two years later when they built and flew the first fully practical airplane.

At the meeting that night, Mr. Barton announces to the assembled crowd that their aviation expert, Colonel Davis, could not make it. 

MR. BARTON: “He started her from Los Angeles, but he got slightly mixed up in a snowstorm and has just cabled us from Bombay, India.”

Bombay, India is the capital city of the Indian state of Maharashtra. It was formerly renamed Mumbai in 1995 to better reflect the city’s roots and cut ties with its British origins. Coincidentally, a few months after this broadcast, the 1942 film Bombay Clipper was re-released. Although the Lucy gang never traveled to Bombay, it was mentioned in 1955′s “The Hedda Hopper Story” (ILL S4;E21) when everyone was looking for Mrs. McGillicuddy. 

RICKY (Into phone): “Do you have any flights numbered 930? You do? Where's it coming in from? Bombay?” LUCY: “Bombay?” RICKY: “Well knowing your mother... No, even she wouldn't fly from New York to Los Angeles by way of India.”

Instead, Mr. Barton announces that the guest speaker is a famous authority on Alaska, Mr. Scott Campbell (Steve Allen). Unfortunately, Liz knows nothing about Alaska - so she starts to talk about the Wright Brothers instead!

In 1949 Alaska was not yet one of the United States, but was a US territory. The statehood movement gained its first real momentum in 1946 and Alaska was officially proclaimed a state on January 3, 1959. To mark this event, Desilu created a special episode of “The Westinghouse Desilu Playhouse” in which the Ricardos and Mertzes travel to Nome to cash in on a land deal, although no actual filming was done in the 49th state. 

In 1952’s “Lucy Gets Ricky on the Radio” (ILL S1;E32) Lucy presciently (but incorrectly) answers the question “What was the last state to be admitted to the union?” by saying Alaska. At the time, the correct answer to the question was Arizona, admitted on Valentine’s Day 1912.

MR. BARTON: “No!  When are you going to get to Alaska?”  LIZ: “Let me get the plane invented and I’ll fly up there!” 

With nothing else to talk about, Liz starts to talk about bees, but Mr. Barton quickly cuts her off and turns the podium over to Mr. Campbell, who launches into a serious speech about the welfare of the children of Alaska. He suddenly turns to Liz and asks “Who is responsible for these children, Mrs. Cooper?” 

LIZ: “You really want me to answer that?  Wilbur and Orville Wright!” 

In the bedtime tag, it is 4 o’clock in the morning and Liz is eating crackers in bed. Wrestling them away from her, George gets cracker crumbs all over the bed. A few seconds later, Liz is eating an apple!  George takes it from her. He hears her eating a third time and goes to grab whatever it is away from her.  

GEORGE: “Whoah!  What was that!” LIZ: “A glass of cold milk. Goodnight, George.”

End of Episode

Bob LeMond reminds listeners that Lucille Ball will soon be seen in the Paramount Picture Sorrowful Jones. 

[secret-engima]

Stand Strong Drabble: Shaking Hands

(Okay so this was less intentional angst and more my thoughts exploring, just a little, of how Amissa must have felt when she realized that she was going to KEEP JUMPING WORLDS. That nowhere was permanent. That nothing she did or was done to her could make it STOP and how that effects her even now, all these worlds later, even after the Astrals promised her safety and permanence here. Basically all hail the Angst)

...

     Blood, bullets, screaming. All around and in the air and inside her. Copper on her tongue and suffocating her lungs while Flames exploded out of her control in one last gurgling snarl of Fury-Betrayal-Rage-.

     Sun-warmed cobblestones under her fingers, too large clothes sliding off her shoulders as she stared down at fresh pink scars littering a prepubescent torso and cried. 

...

     Amissa opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Waited patiently for the feeling of lead tearing open her lungs to fade and the cold thrill down her spine of again-again-forever-again to fade. She counted the familiar cracks in her ceiling, breathed in and tasted the soft fragrance of her plants. Let them anchor her to the present —to the world, her last world— with the faint thrum of their life forces. She closed her eyes and counted to five, rolled out of her bed in resigned silence. She wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again, not after that. She knew better than to tempt the dreams.

     She slipped on the knee-length dressing gown her Kids had given her a few birthdays ago, padded across the cold floor and nudged open the doors to the rundown balcony attached to her room. The railing had crumbled years ago under the persistent assault of the tree growing up against the side of the building, but she had never needed the railing in the first place. Not when the branches were thick enough to climb and she had no fear of heights or falling to stop her from climbing up into the foliage in her nightclothes and dressing gown.

     Amissa swung up into the highest branches and looked out across the persistent gloom of little Galahd, busy as ever in its more nocturnally orientated schedule than the rest of Insomnia. She took in a deep breath of air that tasted like magic and the jungle, listened to the faint but persistent drums of some folk song being played a few blocks away, let the shadows hide her form from the view of the passing Kingsglaive darting by on the rooftops on their way to or from a shift.

     All very different from the bright sunshine and warm cobblestones of her dream.

     Good.

     She hated that dream.

     Amissa lifted her hands in front of her face, flexed her fingers, examining their shape, the scars on different places. Adult hands. Normal hands. Something that so many people had but so few appreciated. She pressed her hands over her sternum, pushed her fingers against certain old scars until they throbbed. Old scars she had carried for years and years, lifetime after lifetime. 

     Scars she had carried ever since the first time she’d died.

...

     Flame-soaked bullets rattling the air, the churning fear in Lambo’s eyes as he cradled I-Pin’s unmoving —but breathing, alive, just unconscious— form closer to him and ran away on her orders —her promise that she would be right behind them even though they knew that was a lie, that the backup she was sending him and Fūta to retrieve was just an excuse to get them and the unconscious I-Pin to safety—, leaving her to face the bullet rain alone.

     The taste of the ice cream on her tongue from what had been a pleasant trip out with the kids until an entire enemy famiglia crashed in. The furious haze of taking down more-more-more opponents until she couldn’t and she lay on the floor of that ice cream parlor, suffocating on her own blood and forcing her Flames out in one last attack to keep them from chasing after the children.

     Waking up on sun-baked cobblestones —not the cool tile of the parlor floor, not even the hot concrete pavement of the street outside—, suddenly a child rather than the adult she had finally had a chance to grow into —a chance ripped away twice already by worlds she had existed in one moment and then been torn from in a blink—. Pulling at her blood-soaked shirt until she could look down at the pink, rounded scars that looked like they were weeks or months old rather than minutes.

     Looking up at the concerned voices of the small woman and her massive husband as they approached what they thought was a child in oversized, bloody clothes and spoke in a language that was like German but not quite —another language, wrong language, wrong faces, fictional faces even when she’d been in a world she’d already once known as fictional—.

     Realizing she’d jumped again. Left everything behind again and sobbing into her shaking hands because if death couldn’t stop it…

     Then nothing would.

....

     “Màmag?” Amissa blinked back to the present —new world, different world, last world-she-hoped-she-prayed— to the sensation of someone gently clasping her trembling hands and pulling them away from the bullet scars she was obsessively rubbing at. She looked up into Luche’s worried expression and his flared nostrils and realized she was suppressing again.

     She relaxed her scent and shakily squeezed his much steadier hands, “I’m fine, Luche. You just got off duty, right? You should go sleep.”

     He shifted into a more comfortable position on the thick branch instead, his hands firmly wrapped around hers, as if holding on tight would disguise the way Amissa’s hands trembled-trembled-trembled —hands that had remained surgically steady even during the worst battles and most terrifying, daemon-filled nights— from the things in her head. His scent unfurled, warm like cinnamon and ticklish with just a whiff of garlic. Her eldest sniffed thoughtfully at her scent and then purred comfortingly as understanding dawned in his eyes —he had always seen her too well, just like he saw most people too well, saw them in the way that let him push their every button for good or ill—, “You’re not going to disappear, Màmag,” he whispered quietly, “and neither are any of us.”

     Amissa took a deep breath of air that tasted like jungle instead of concrete and gasoline and rubber like the rest of the city. She looked out over the home she had helped carve out of the refugee district that had started out as a total slum and listened to the heartbeat of all its people —the heartbeat of old-old magic whispering mine-safe-home-welcome-mine—. She thought of ancient beings promising that they would let her stay. That no matter what happened, so long as she did her best to care for the inhabitants of their world, they would keep her soul from being stolen away again. “This Star is the home of your body and soul for the rest of your life,” they had said, “and it will become your eternal resting place when your life passes, this we so swear.”

     She thought on that, clutched it internally like the promise it was but-. But…

...

     Rain and cold and confusion, a small town somewhere in Japan that didn’t look right somehow, a sick feeling as she realized it had happened again. An umbrella appearing over her head and a gentle, if slightly vacant voice saying, “Ara! You look so cold, sitting out here in the rain. Come inside, come on, come on, I made plenty supper for a guest-, oh you’re soaked- Tsu-kun! Tsu-kun get a towel out of the bathroom! Don’t worry about a thing, dear- no- no need to cry. You can stay in our home for as long as you like, I promise.”

...

     Too-big clothes that had fit perfectly moments ago, round, pink scars where there had been fatal open wounds. The clatter of concerned feet as two strangers-who-weren’t ran up to her and crouched down, “Oi- oi kid what are you doing out here in the middle of the street-. Holy-! You’re covered in blood, what happened to you? No let me see, I can help. Come on, come on let’s get you out of the street… there we go. Don’t be scared little one, we’re not going to hurt you, I’m Izumi, this is my husband Sig. Do you have parents we can call? … A home then? … Well. I suppose you’ll just have to stay here then. No, no, don’t argue! You’ll stay here as long as you need. What kind of housewife would I be if I abandoned a child to the streets?”

...

     She blinked herself free of the memories, met concerned blue eyes with her own mismatched gaze, and smiled “I know, mo baeg solas. I’m fine.”

     He stared back at her for several minutes, then smiled back and shifted to settle closer to her, so close their shoulders were touching and he could drag her hands into his lap as he rested his head on her shoulder. With a quiet voice he began to fill her in on the silly, inane things that had happened to him and the others on their last shift, mentioned the things that they wanted to do with her later when everyone was off duty and well rested. He spoke as if they were just relaxing in the tree for no reason other than to chat, and she responded with a relaxed scent and amusing gossip she’d picked up from the Citadel servants. Agreements to all the future plans and little habits that only meant the world to people who had known what it was like to be without those comforts for years.

     She laughed like she was calm and happy and fine.

     He politely pretended that he didn’t know she was lying.

     They both ignored his fingers twined around hers in his lap, as if that would make them stop shaking.

     They both pretended not to notice when it didn’t work.

[falloutforties]

Five Years (Deacon x Sole)

CHAPTER ONE: TOTAL ATOMIC ANNIHILATION!

Description: The second she crawled out of that vault, dead cockroach meat in her pocket and tongue still not completely thawed, she knew she didn’t have to lie anymore. No more candy-striped wallpaper coating the halls, no more perfect wife and mother. She was no one. She was everyone. She didn’t sugarcoat her feelings, she didn’t hold her tongue. And it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate that honesty, it’s that he had to mix in his honesty with a little sweet prevarication, like rum and coke-- but she was straight vodka, and he was starting to feel a little dizzy. Set in a world in which David Bowie did exist at one time, because the author can’t imagine a world in which he didn’t.

Warnings: Swearing and some fighting as well, but aside from that, no real warnings. I’m shit at writing angst, so there’s none of that. Slow burn, all chapters already written, hopefully one chapter a week unless grad school totally swamps me. Also, there are several elements of this story that are little fix-its for me, because todd really made me try to care about a son and husband smh. I was running around the wasteland like “why does everybody keep talking about my son? The only son I know is named Dogmeat, and he is a Good Boy.” ALSO because todd won’t let me romance Deacon. 

Note from the Author: Hi folks! I wrote this to help me get through my writing block and because I needed a lil comfort in these trying times, so I figured I would make this blog to share it. I’m in the process of also putting it on ao3, but this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written so I’m not sure how this all works. I hope y’all enjoy!!!! This story gets started a little slow because I wanted to give an introduction for how I interpret the sole survivor’s personality and such. Pls let me know if you like this, and if you want to read more!! Love you!! <3

When she woke up in the morning, she knew the exact percentage of how likely she was to die that day, down to the decimal. It was not like a superpower, per se, just a sixth sense. An awareness, she might call it. She was incredibly aware of herself.

She couldn’t sense this clearly in other people, though she did have a sense of it. A vague direction as to how closely they’ll come to seeing their entire life flash before their eyes. She had seen it once or twice in Nate’s eyes over the breakfast table— a tint of green in his brown eyes that wasn’t there the day before, almost like a warning.

Something’s going to happen. It might not be bad, or it might be terrible. But it’s something.

She watched him turn his nose up at the box of Sugar Bombs sat on the countertop, favoring instead a cup of coffee and half a tato. She waited patiently for him to start his bi-weekly diatribe against the Sugar Bombs Corporation and their devious aims against the children of the Commonwealth.

“Did you know there’s a Sugar Bombs factory in Beijing?” He’d mentioned, several months ago for the first time. She was honestly just excited to hear that he’d managed to establish a new argument, though she wasn’t convinced that the Sugar Bombs factory in Beijing was a direct link to Childhood Communism as much as it was just outright standard capitalism.

When he finally settled at the table with his half-tato in one hand, coffee in the other, and Boston Bugle folded neatly under his arm, she watched his eyes. He was looking a little green, and she wondered errantly if perhaps he’d be scraped by a car while crossing the street. She herself, however, was at a solid 15%, which was a little higher than her standard measurements, but nothing out of the ordinary or concerning. Perhaps she would break a finger, sprain her ankle, crack a tooth on a Nuka-Cola bottle.

She appreciated the extra air of danger.

Life in Sanctuary was beautifully but painfully dull, less dull now that there was a child in the house, but dull nonetheless. Now, the stale quiet that usually settled over the house in the afternoon was permeated by the frequent cries and laughs of the child and the exclamations of their brand new housekeeper, who thought the child was a marvel of modern science.

He was, at the very moment his parents were eating breakfast, sleeping in his crib in the back room, the powder blue of his walls shielding him like a personal sky as he went completely unaware of everyone around him. He had the enviable manner of a child, crying whenever he felt a slight discomfort, laughing at the simplest of things.

She wished sometimes she could burst into tears just because she was hungry, or weep at the thought of being sleepy. It had been so long since someone had properly addressed her humanity that she thought if someone held her against their chest, she’d fall asleep, just like the child did at night when she rocked him.

“Mum,” Codsworth chirped as he hovered into the kitchen with a wet rag in one hand and a rattle in the other.

“Morning, Codsworth,” she replied with a mouth full of cereal. She, unlike Nate, was not too good for Sugar Bombs, and if they were implanting Communist Tracking Chips into her brain, well, that was a risk she was going to have to take. As long as she was the one who had to do the grocery shopping, she was not going to deny herself the simple pleasure of marshmallow cereal.

“Young Shaun should be asleep for approximately the next two hours.”

“Thank you, Codsworth.”

Nora loved Codsworth. There were days when she thought of him more as a husband than Nate. Codsworth, in his thrumming metallic voice, asked her everyday how she was feeling. Nate sometimes quirked his brow at her, and she nodded in response, but their marital conversation was frustratingly dry.

Like Sugar Bombs without milk.

Chip Harris was grandstanding on the news, and his thick croon filled the background of the house with a pleasant sort of domestic white noise along with the gentle clink of her silverware and the crinkling of Nate’s paper. She tuned her ears for a moment to Chip’s voice as he read from a teleprompter about some new information about China’s secret nuclear plants.

Everyone has nukes nowadays, she thought bitterly. Her Sugar Bombs were now soggy. Why are we allowed to hide them, but China has to send us a report or else we accuse them of some kind of crime?

She absentmindedly wondered if having a crush on the newscaster might turn her into more of a nuclear housewife. She knew Natalie Hawthorne had a crush on Chip Harris. She watched him every morning, even had a signed picture of him that she kept in her nightstand. Mr. Hawthorne was fine with it, of course, because no one in Sanctuary Hills could even prove that Chip Harris was real. No one could prove that he wasn’t just an incredibly advanced Protectron— a Mr. Handy in a pinstripe suit. Mr. Hawthorne didn’t have to worry about Chip Harris stealing his wife.

A knock on the door broke Nora’s concentration.

“Must be that sales guy,” Nate intoned, obviously bored senseless by the notion of a salesman at the door. “He’s been asking for you all morning.”

“All morning? I didn’t even hear him knock before now.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you sleep until 9 AM.”

Thank you, Nora, for staying up until the Devil’s Ass-Crack of dawn comforting a weeping child. Thank you for feeding him while I put earplugs in and turned over to the cold side of the pillow so I could go back to sleep. I answered the door for you, and the salesman gave me a free ticket to Fuck-Off-Ville, and I’m taking the child with me. You and Codsworth have fun now!

A woman could dream.

The salesman at the door was a weasel-looking fellow with an awfully mustardy-colored coat and matching hat. His smile seemed like it might be genuine, but based on the wrinkles that beamed from the corners of his eyes, it seemed he was well-versed in faking a good smile.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am! I am glad you took the time to answer the door today, because what I am about to tell you is a matter of utmost importance,” he promised, his smile somehow extended as he emphasized utmost importance.

“Utmost importance, huh? Glad I answered the door, then.”

“As you should be. Because of your family’s service in the military, you are eligible for entrance into the local vault— Vault 111!”

She eyed him warily before glancing up towards the hill at the end of the cul-de-sac. She had remembered the day Vault-Tec had started construction into the hillside, promising the neighborhood that “We won’t work until 9 AM, we’ll be gone in a flash, and you and your family will soon be protected in the unlikely event of total atomic annihilation!”

She didn’t buy the working until 9 AM part, she was skeptical about them being gone in a flash, and she hadn’t taken the time to assess the thought of total atomic annihilation. That was something that happened to people in the movies, or on radio shows, not in Sanctuary Hills. Total atomic annihilation might actually spice up her life, if it deigned to come close to Sanctuary Hills.

“Thanks,” she mentioned passively, ignoring the clipboard that was slowly being edged towards her. “My family too?”

“Yes, of course! Except the robot, mind you. Would you mind taking a few moments to fill out some paperwork?”

Nora turned her head to eye the situation inside the house before accepting the clipboard. If the salesman had knocked before, there was no reason to send him away then. He was working hard, and she appreciated the thought if not the persistence.

“Excellent! Now you and your family are… Prepared for the Future!”

She gave a half-hearted laugh at the way he performed his reading of the motto— the Vault-Tec promise that had been broadcasted via billboard all over every cityscape and neighborhood nearby. If total atomic annihilation never came around, Vault-Tec was sure going to look foolish.

She shut the door and sauntered back over to the breakfast table, but just as she sat down, a cry rang through the house. Shaun was awake, and Nate was eyeing her above the folded edge of his paper.

“Mum!” Codsworth chirped once again, hovering back into the kitchen. “Young Shaun seems to be inconsolable. Would you mind using some of that… maternal instinct you seem to be so good at?”

“Sure, Codsworth. Thank you.”

Once the door was closed in Shaun’s little room, she felt a great weight lift from her shoulders. True, she had not liked the child at first, but he was growing on her, and she appreciated the fact that he had to listen to everything she said without commentary or judgement.

“You might be unsure now, but once that beautiful baby boy is handed to you in a pretty blue blanket, you’ll love him more than you’ve ever loved anything,” Natalie Hawthorne had told her at the baby shower in a moment of vulnerability. Nora had escaped the Hawthorne’s living room to cry in their bathroom, marking it up to hormones at first, but the second she looked in the mirror and saw that damned stomach of hers, the crying got worse. Natalie stumbled into the bathroom by accident, catching Nora in the midst of a coughing fit.

So, Nora waited until Shaun was born, and when the nurse handed him to her, she stared at him and felt absolutely nothing. But she cooed and tickled his tiny feet, promising to herself that if she could just get the child home, maybe it would get better. Maybe it was the anesthetic and the drugs that made her so emotionless. It wasn’t.

It was the fact that she hadn’t wanted a child at all, the fact that she hadn’t even really wanted a husband, but her parents had set her up with some soldier boy, fresh out of a set of power armor, and that was that. She would marry Nate because it was what she was supposed to do, not because she had fallen in love.

She adjusted Shaun’s cap before scooping him into her arms.

“What do you have to cry about?” She muttered to the child. “You don’t have to pay taxes. You’re not going to have to wear heels and go grocery shopping and attend baby showers. You’re going to play catch in the backyard with your father, and then one day, some girl will marry you because she has to. You’re set for life, little buddy.”

Shaun merely gargled something, his hands grabbing for her hair. He was like a partially-sentient diary. She would pile her troubles on him, and he would go, “Ah!” And then go back to sleep.

“I was thinking we could go to the park today,” Nate remarked as he stepped into the nursery. “Would you be interested?”

“Sure, sure. Might be nice to get some fresh air.” She had intended to say more, perhaps something about finishing her Halloween preparations, but when she turned to him, she saw his eyes fully for the first time that day, and Shaun nearly slipped from her grasp.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Nate took the child from her arms. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just… are you feeling alright?”

“Fine. You look pale, though. Maybe it’s all that Chinese Cereal.”

She chuckled despite herself and maintained eye contact with as much focus as she could muster. His eyes were near fully green. She was sure it was nothing. It had to be nothing. They were going for a walk in the park, and besides, her percentage was still standing at a solid 15%. It was nothing.

But Chip Harris knew more than she did, and when Codsworth called them all into the living room, Chip Harris was, for the first time on the air, misty-eyed. His head was in his hands, the morning report discarded as he faced the camera with shaking eyes.

“Shit,” Nora whispered, and Nate scolded her for her foul mouth. “Sorry, I just… is this it?”

“I think this is it.”

“Whatever it is, I will certainly miss you all dearly. Sir, Mum, Young Shaun. I believe this is goodbye.”

Codsworth’s goodbye started her heart thrumming at an unbelievable pace, and she kicked into gear, sweeping herself up from the loveseat and rushing towards the door, ushering Nate and Shaun behind her.

This was it. This was the end of the world, but it wasn’t going to kill her.

[zombified-queer]

I know this trailer trash AU is dead, but maybe if I beat it with a stick, I can inspire it lmao. (P heavy CW for domestic violence/abuse.)

Goran'Agar is settled in the old ratty recliner outside his trailer, Keevan in his lap. Keevan's got a cigarette between his lips, not-so-subtley grinding against the Jem'Hadar in thanks. "I miss something special?" Kelas asks, standing in the shade. "You're just in time!" Keevan's grinning like a very pleased cat. "So what's the news?" Kelas asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "Weyoun and Isogot," Goran says, adjusting Keevan in his lap, the Vorta too content with his cigarette to be any help. "Founders, they do this shit every week," Keevan says, nodding toward Weyoun's trailer. Weyoun's moving out boxes of stuff, all properly packed and all labelled in the Vorta's neat handwriting. It's the sort of packing that shows dedication and a lot of anger.

"Well fuck," Kelas mutters. "He packs that junkie's shit every other week while Isogot's out fucking half Dukat's hoes," Keevan informs the Cardassian, the Vorta pausing to take another drag. "And always swears it's he last time. But then Isogot just comes crawling back and Weyoun takes him back." "For the kids," Goran adds. "Oh sure," Keevan says, ashing his cigarette. "He says it's for the kids and I know Weyoun's not a total slut—" "Unlike you," Goran says, grinding against Keevan. Keevan rolls his eyes, taking a final drag off his cigarette and putting it out on the cigarette-scorched arm of the recliner. "Anyway. Weyoun's been so goddamn loyal to that junkie fucker and Isogot treats him like shit every time." "And he smokes that shit around the kids," Goran adds. "You cook it out back," Keevan says. "Not the same. I lock all my shit up," Goran growls. "So Weyoun's throwing him out for good then?" Kelas says. "I guess we're going to be paying rent in grams and peepshows again." Keevan scoffs, shrugging so the over-sized shirt sleeve slides down to expose his shoulder. "Weyoun's such a hoe, if Goran went over there and knocked him up again, he'd be thrilled." "Don't want the junkie's bitch," Goran growls, nipping at Keevan's shoulder. Kelas watches as Weyoun sets the last box outside. There's not a whole lot, but Kelas can guess one must be for all Isogot's guns and knives he's collected. The door slams behind Weyoun, making Kelas cringe. "Now watch," Keevan purrs, "In, like, two hours, Isogot's gonna be here begging for Weyoun to take him back." "In two hours, you gotta be at work," Goran mumbles. "So?" Keevan asks. And with that, Goran scoops Keevan up, carrying him inside.

It takes some doing, but Isogot breaks in through the backdoor, grinning from the tail end of his high. Those Bajoran women tire him out after those benders of ketacel and sex. He closes the door quietly, not wanting to piss Weyoun off this . . . late? Early? Isogot shrugs to himself, stripping out of his shirt in the kitchen, leaving it on the floor. Weyoun’ll just get it later when he does laundry like a good little housewife. He steps into the living room, the place as clean as ever. Isogot makes up his mind to reward Weyoun later. "Daddy!" Isogot turns, raising a finger to his lips. "Shh, Nileth. Don't wanna wake mama up." "Okay," Nileth whispers. Isogot grins at his son, the little Jem'Hadar already hip-high to Isogot himself. "Go get back in bed, kiddo." "Can't sleep." "Why not?" Isogot reaches down, scooping the little Jem'Hadar up, holding him on his hip. Nileth shrugs, fingers touching Isogot's tattooed bicep. Nileth's always been fascinated by the tattoo, a messy leftover from Isogot's first stint in prison, the faded ink outline of the Dominion. "You gotta go to bed," Isogot tells his son. "You got school, kiddo." "Don't wanna," Nileth complains. "And you're not in bed." "I'm gonna shower and then go to bed," Isogot says. "Okay." Isogot sets his son down, the little Jem'Hadar scurrying back to his bedroom. Shaking his head, Isogot stalks off to the bathroom. He strips down and, under the hot spray, washes off the stench of sex and cheap perfume. "Isogot?" It's Weyoun, of course. "Yeah, babe." "I left your stuff outside." The ketacel mutes the irritation that wells up in the Jem'Hadar. "Bring it back in." "No." "What?" "No." Isogot can imagine Weyoun biting his lip nervously. "I don't want you here anymore." "Why, so you can go fuck Keevan?" Isogot asks, mostly to make the Vorta mad. "You know Vela's your daughter." Isogot rinses himself off. "You're sure? Or maybe you went off and screwed Goran while I was gone." He thinks he hears Weyoun's voice crack with anger while the Vorta insists, "I've done nothing but been faithful to you. And you . . . you're worse than Dukat." Isogot turns the knobs, shutting off the water. He snatches up a towel, drying himself off. "Just go get my shit," Isogot growls. "No!" "Fine," Isogot says, wrapping the towel around his waist. He shoves the Vorta out of the way. He stalks off, opening the front door and bringing in the box of his clothes. Tossing it down on the couch, Isogot tears into it, pulling an outfit out of the box. He gets dressed in the living room. "Isogot," Weyoun says, stepping into the living room. "Weyoun." Isogot's tone is cold. He tosses the towel at Weyoun. Idly, the Vorta folds it. "We can't keep doing this." "What is it you want?" Isogot yells. "A ring?" Weyoun looks the Jem'Hadar in the eye. "I want you to pack your shit and leave." "And leave you with the kids?" Isogot laughs. "I don't think so, slut." "I can raise them just fine," Weyoun snaps. "Not that you're around to see it." Isogot crosses the room, grabbbing Weyoun by the wrist, the Vorta dropping the towel. "You're hurting me," Weyoun says calmly. "I do everything for you and the kids," Isogot snarls. Weyoun twists out of the Jem'Hadar's grip. He's going to bruise anyway. "You spend all out money on ketacel, you're always shoving me around. I'm sick of it." "Listen, bitch," Isogot growls. "I'll treat you the way you deserve to be treated." "Do you want to know why Nileth can't sleep?" Weyoun hisses, failing to keep his voice down. Isogot shoves Weyoun away from him, the Vorta tripping over himself and falling on his ass. "You're killing my buzz, slut." "Get the fuck out then!" Weyoun cries, getting up. "I'm calling the sheriff." "I haven't even really hurt you," Isogot says. "You want that? You want a real reason to call that oatmeal lookin' fuck?" The Jem'Hadar grabs the Vorta by the wrist, dragging him along while Weyoun tries twisting out of Isogot's grasp, clawing at Isogot's arm. With his free hand, Isogot pulls one of his belts from the box—sturdy leather with a wicked metal buckle.

Kelas runs the dermal regenerator over the welts, taking care with the Vorta. "He broke in?" Odo asks, averting his eyes from the Vorta's injuries. Weyoun nods. "He did." "And you want a restraining order against him?" Another nod from the Vorta. Kelas cups Weyoun's chin, the Vorta flinching at first before letting Kelas touch him. "Easy," Kelas says, as if talking to a spooked animal. He runs the dermal regenerator over the Vorta's bruised face. "See? Nice and gentle." Vela starts wailing and Weyoun blinks. "I've got to . . ." "Go ahead," Kelas says, gently patting Weyoun's knee. The Vorta gets up to soothe his daughter, disappearing into the bedroom. "We'll have to press charges," Odo says, arms folded over his chest. "Which means we'll need to investigate the home situation." "Which means you'll probably want to put the kids in foster care," Kelas finishes. "I don't think so. I've got all the files on every time Weyoun's 'tripped' or 'walked into something.'" "You want a subpoena for those." "Of course," Kelas says. "And I want you to promise those kids aren't being taken from Weyoun." Odo huffs. "Listen," Kelas says, "I delivered those two kids. I'd know every bruise and bump and scratch on them." "And you think they don't have any." "Nileth's probably got some scraped knees, but that's a normal kid thing." "You think so?" Odo asks. Kelas laughs. "I've had to untangle our oldest from barbed wire, set a couple broken bones from falling out of trees, fix more bumps and bruises and scrapes than you've ever seen in your life, Sheriff." Weyoun comes back into the living room, the baby Vorta in is arms sleeping soundly. "Sorry, she won't let me tuck her back into bed." "It's alright," Kelas says, patting the space by him, Weyoun settling on the couch. "Odo and I were talking about pressing charges." Weyoun looks down at his daughter. "How long would he be going away for?" "Minimum? Five years," Odo answers. "First offense. But if he violates parole or his restraining order, he could go away for longer." Weyoun nods. "But," Kelas says, "Odo might have to get the Department of Child Welfare involved." "You'd take them?" Weyoun asks, panic rising in his voice. "No, I . . . They need me." "I know," Kelas says. "Maybe Odo and I can work something out."

"Didn't know you were considering adopting," Jack teases, watching Kelas nursing the baby Vorta. "Doing a favour," Kelas answers. "Weyoun's promised to go easier on our rent." "What a bargain, hmm," Jack replies. He watches Kelas for a moment. "You gonna have enough milk for our baby too?" "Of course," Kelas assures the Terran. "I make more milk than a cow." When Vela's done nursing, she pulls away from Kelas, fussing. Kelas adjusts his hold, patting her back until the baby Vorta burps. "Got an appetite, hmm?" "She's growing pretty fast," Kelas notes. "Faster than our kids." "When do you give her back?" "Odo's going to take her back over to Weyoun once the investigation's finished." Vela whines, fighting sleepiness. Kelas simply holds her, rubbing her back before she falls asleep. "God she's cute," Jack notes. "And those ears!" "Go knock Keevan up if you want one of your own," Kelas teases. "Nah," Jack says firmly. "Love you too much." "If you wanted one, maybe Goran would be willing to share." "I know how much Keevan goes for and I don't want to spend any cash on that, mhm," Jack says. "Well, maybe we can have a sort of swap," Kelas muses. Jack hums. "You're serious." "Mhm." Kelas gets up, tucking Vela into her crib. The baby Vorta whimpers, but Kelas rubs her back, soothing her back to sleep.

[ember373]

Poke Poke...

July 24, 2020 5:17 pm

Last night was hard. Really hard. I could relay the immediate events that led up to it, but really it was a culmination of things. Where do I even begin? Last week the out of town in laws were in. Which wasn’t bad. I like them. But that means family gatherings and trying to make sure everyone is getting along and are my kids being brats or are they behaving? It’s exhausting. But every time I see them, it’s a reminder of how enmeshed I am in the family. How they rely on me for certain things. How, if anything were to happen, I think they would be pretty sad. FiL likes to talk to me about politics and I help get it out of his system and then rein him in and remind him of any positive and hopeful things. The sisters rely on my understanding and my discipline. The Mil relies on my help to mitigate everything and pitch in where I can. And of course lately, the oppressor keeps telling me how I’m his rock and the only one in his corner and he couldn’t do any of this without me. Once upon a time, I would have enjoyed that. I love to be useful. I love to be relied upon, needed. But it’s hard when it’s not a situation you don’t want to be needed in. Sure, I have grand dreams of remaining friends and after the dust settles maybe we could be one of those families that can actually get along and attend things. But those are only dreams. And the reality is that I wouldn’t only break one person’s heart-I would break countless others. The weight that I bear, that lies heavy on my heart day in and day out, just became that much heavier.

I’ve been trying not to think too much about it. It shouldn’t really matter if I’m not planning on doing anything anyway, right? But it makes me feel that much more guilty for desperately wishing there were some way I could get out. But where I was only looking at one heart (well, 4 if you count the chillins) and figuring out how to support it (them), now there’s like 16. It’s daunting. So I’m feeling the weight in my chest even more now and trying to ignore it and pretend that it’s allllll just fine.

On top of that, I had gotten a hold of Dev. I was really worried about him. I don’t know what kind of support network he has out there, and I don’t know if his dad checks up on him that often, or what. All I know is that I still care and I would want someone to check up on me. I should realize by now that not everyone is as needy as me, but I still feel it deeply-that feeling of needing to know someone cares. And if I can offer that to someone, shouldn’t I? This is part of what makes me look so crazy to everyone else. Look clingy. I mean, I can be clingy, but mostly I just really care about people and want them to feel what I don’t really feel-loved. We talked a bit back and forth, but it was mostly surface talk and ghosting still. He let me know he was safe tho, so I felt better. At one point he asked me how I was and when I asked him how he was, he sent me a link to a song. It was a Spanish song where the very first lyrics heard I could loosely translate to kiss me first (it’s actually Kiss me baby, like the first time). Looking up the translated lyrics, it’s about kissing a woman and the romance around that. Hard not to read into that. I played it off and told him it was a catchy tune. But maybe he sent it to the wrong person or sent the wrong link? He tells me no, I sent it to you. Then he mentions it’s in the top 40 Latin charts. Ummm...ok. :/Then he asked if I had Rona and disappeared.

Which brings me to yesterday. I had a pretty busy schedule, but it’s not something I haven’t had before so I just took each thing as it came. I was a little tired of the Dev yo-yo so I sent him a voice recording after my therapy appointment. I was being lazy and didn’t want to type out a text. I basically told him that whatever it was in me that was really attached or whatever finally broke with that last little interaction. I told him about how I used to think he was Khalid and that now he’s the Weekend. Doesn’t give a fuck. That if he wanted to text, I’d respond. We both know that I’m not very good at leaving people, only driving them away. But, hopefully, I wouldn’t be as invested in the results and go crazy. Again, I didn’t think I’d really hear from him. (I have to note here that I sent that voice memo at 11:11. Not on purpose. If it was the universe talking to me, what was it trying to say? For some really weird reason I felt like the Universe approved. Which is weird. And I’m not going to think too much about it. Because really...the Universe approves? What the fuck ever man...) Then I get phone calls. But no messages. I call immediately back. Straight to VM. What the heck? At that point I’m irritated and my next couple of texts say as much. Then he’s like why so rude? I butt dialed you. Freaking A.... And, again, I got too emotionally invested and let him get to me. He must be laughing his ass off. I’d like to think he’s not doing it on purpose, but there’s always that chance, you know? And the deep dark ugly whispers that it is so.... I apologize. THEN, he tells me he’s Khalid. Ummm...no. Not to me. He’s Abel. He says he gives a ton of fucks. Yeh...to EVERYONE ELSE. I told him as much. He laughs and calls me mean. That was the end of it. So I’ve got that going on yesterday-giving me all sorts of confused feels but I’m like whatever. Can’t dwell (even tho I totally do).

So, I go about the rest of the day, still low key thinking about Dev (sooooo irritating). But I’m a bit out of sorts and emotional. Then it was evening and I was walking upstairs and ...poke. I hate that. I can’t even explain how much I hate it and feel so helpless and angry, but instead of getting mad I try to laugh it off and say something like knock it off. It has almost become a game. I do something that annoys him and he pokes me in the boob. I know he thinks he’s entitled. But. He’s. Fucking. NOT. If I’m not fucking him, why the hell does he think I want him to touch my boobs? It’s worse than the low key feels he does with the back of his hand just brushing agains my boob. It’s replusive. It feels so violating and I just want to yell and beat the shit out of him, but I know the fight it would cause if I even mention it, so it’s one of the ‘allowances’. A brush here, a poke there, him poking my butt with something that isn’t his finger as he slides behind me (with plenty of room to NOT touch me btw). But I’m getting pretty tired of the ‘allowances’ just to keep peace. Just to keep it going. And something inside me breaks. Not like it did with Dev, where that was more breaking bonds until I have so many walls up I won’t be interesting to talk to anymore. It was something deep in my soul that just sort of snapped. I had people to put to bed and children not yet asleep, so I pushed it deep down and went about the routine. Watched some dramas. Then a little past midnight I decided to go to bed. Laid down and then I just...wept. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it. Then I couldn’t breathe so I sat up. And I just kept crying, muffling my sobs in my blanket so I wouldn’t wake anyone up. Trying not to make any sound at all and ragged breathing as I stifled the cries within. It faded and I sat there. Numb. Then I though ‘I’m so tired of hurting’, and it began again. This time a small sound escaped and I shoved my face in the blanket and fought to breathe as my body just shook. And whenever I shook, it was like the tears wouldn’t really come, but the moment I slowed my breath down, they just sort of leaked out and down my face. This happened like 5 times over the course of maybe an hour? I would calm down only to get hit with just this immense wall of sadness and despair and longing and dejectedness. I was tired of hurting. Tired of being lonely. Tired of feeling so alone. Just wanting some sort of connection that could me just the tiniest bit of joy. Over and over I just keep thinking throughout these last months (years?), what the hell did I ever do wrong in a past life time to deserve this? What grand lesson was the universe trying to teach me knowing that I was absolutely breaking in the process and just didn’t want to live anymore? Didn’t it know I can’t take this? That every day I would think of various ways to end my life, always discarding them one by one because of the pain or suffering they might cause other people. The trucker or other driver that would hit me, the rescuer that would find me...I would think ah! Just go for a walk and fall off a cliff into the ocean. No one will find me! Then I’d think of the pain my kids would feel. Over and over. And all the while I’m just internally cursing the damn universe for thinking I could ever ‘learn’ the lesson. In order to be free I have to stand up for myself. I have to use my voice. And hurt other people. I just can’t do it. At least 16 people for one person’s happiness? My happiness? Who said I even deserved happiness? (I know I do, but it sometimes takes a while to circle back to that point). I’d rather sacrifice the one for the happiness of the many, especially if that one is me. I can handle it right? (Obviously not very well...) I sat there, in the dark, for a very long time. Just broken.

We all hear of the fairy tale of a woman meeting her prince and getting married and having kids and living happily ever after. A lot of people don’t get that fairy tale. My fairy tale is the tale of the depressed housewife who just dreams of feeling like someone out there cares for her. Like you see in dramas, where the man and woman are friends and become closer and there is a love between them but they don’t act on it because they try to be good people. And the man knows that acting on it might hurt the woman even more even tho it’s what she desperately needs. So they just be there for each other and support each other and lean on each other. But that’s not reality. Humans are greedy and when they see something they want, they try their best to have it. Whether it’s just for a night or for eternity. After the night they sate their lust and move on. And, well, we all know that eternity just doesn’t stop. So it’s trash or prisonor. Or, sometimes, both. Fairy tales are lies. Happily ever after is a lie. At least, for some people it is. My favorite saying is ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys’ to remind me to stay out of other people’s drama and not make it my own and stress about it. My next favorite saying has become ‘Not everyone gets a happily ever after’ to remind me that sometimes it’s just futile to hope for anything more. To dream of anything else. Sometimes, it’s just better to accept the situation and try to make the best of it. Right? I mean, isn’t it like the relationship between good and bad? Where you don’t truly know what’s good until you’ve experienced the bad? Maybe it’s a yin/yang thing? Some people have to be unhappy to make way for others to live in bliss? (I know, I know, bullshit...) I keep telling myself that, have been telling myself that for the last year or so. But, I just can’t make myself believe it. My dilemma was, and still is, how do I love myself? How do I love someone I constantly see people throw away and find value in that trash? Now my dilemma is how do I make myself okay with this? How do I get rid of all these useless desires and hungers and feelings and longings? It always goes back to digging my heart out with a spoon. Another favorite saying. Why can’t my sayings be more positive ffs...

It felt as if all these emotions and feelings and useless thoughts just kept building and building and building. Dev cracked the walls. The poke just made them burst and let everything spill out. I wish I could let it wash away like water coursing down a valley to sweep away whatever feelings I have inside and just leave...nothing. But my water isn’t made of droplets, it’s made of jagged shards of metal. And my heart is the magnet. And once the damn bursts, my heart slowly collects them all back up and starts to hold on to them again. Trying to build the walls bigger. Thicker. Trying to last longer until the next inevitable break. Or poke. I guess I really am like the damn breaking and the water spilling through and coursing down the valley. It doesn’t really leave nothing. It doens’t clean anything. All it does is leave an ugly mess. And mud. And yuck. And sticks that poke like the oppressors fingers. >.<

(Finished at 11:29pm)

[captaindeadpoet]

BonRin Week Day 2: Secrets

Thanks

It had been difficult to sneak out of the dorm. It had been nearly impossible to get past the teachers and leave the campus. Yet Bon had managed to find the bus stop and lean against a street lamp, waiting to be picked up. His heart was racing and his chest was tight with guilt as he watched the scene around him. He had never left campus without permission before.  It wasn’t as if he snuck out to do anything wrong, though; he just needed to buy some supplies. Then he would return immediately and no one would be the wiser.

Bon’s internal turmoil was interrupted by the bus pulling up, brakes squealing. The doors opened and he climbed aboard. Finding a comfortable seat near the back, Bon settled in for the ride. His thoughts began to gather once more.

This is stupid. I should have ordered it online. Leaving campus could get me a detention, Bon thought. What if someone saw me? They might tell Okumura-sensei. He would put me on probation. Or what if they told Rin? God, if Rin found out, he’d be pissed. Well, maybe not pissed, but definitely worried.

Bon shook his head. No one was going to find out. He’d make sure of that. No one would know he left and if they did, they wouldn’t know why. He was safe.

The bus came to a stop and Bon made his way to the front, walking down the steps. He began heading down the street, hands in his pockets and his head low. His destination was only a few minutes away. It was already in view, with its rich purple awnings and its racks of bright colors and patterns. His heart flutter with anticipation instead of nervousness and guilt.

Finally, Bon stood in front of the store, staring at all the new items in the window display. His lips curled up slightly as he walked in.

“Welcome to Fabric Palace! Can I - oh, Ryuuchan, it’s you. I haven’t seen you in here lately! You always order online.” A feminine voice said.

Bon scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Been busy with school. How you been, Katsuka?”

The woman, Katsuka, beamed. “I’ve been great! The shop is doing well. We even have a few classes now. Any chance you’ll come teach beginner’s sewing?”

“Nah. I got too much going on. I’m not even that good.”

“My daughter’s wedding gown begs to differ! You made it look so beautiful, Ryuuji. The beadwork was as stunning as the stitching, too!”

Bon looked to the ground, cheeks pink. “It wasn’t much. Just wanted to help. You made all those robes for the temple.”

“Enough about me, Ryuuchan! What are you doing lately? Do you like high school? Are you working on any new pieces?”

“School’s good. I’ve got straight A’s. I ain’t working on anything, but I want to make an apron.”

“You’re a good boy, Ryuuji. Let me show you some patterns. Who are you making it for?”

“Just some idiot. He likes to cook and he drops stuff in my dorm. Figured I should at least repay him.”

Katsuka smirked. She knew this ‘idiot’ was probably more than that, but she would keep it to herself. Bon would admit it when he was ready. She pulled a few patterns out of a filing cabinet and spread them on the counter for Bon to see. He cringed slightly.

“Katsuka, you got anything a little less…girly?” Bon asked.

Katsuka gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

“I like the patterns, but they’re kinda all ruffles and ribbon. I just want something a little more masculine. Rin’s kind of weird about that stuff sometimes. Plus the moron is prone to catching things on fire. I’m not putting that much effort into something that’ll end up destroyed.”

“Ah, so his name is Rin. I guess I could give you the pattern for a plain one. It won’t be as fun, though.”

Bon looked over the patterns once more. Maybe something a bit feminine wouldn’t be so awful. After all, Rin would probably look good in something frilly, maybe a baby blue apron with some pretty ribbon piping. Bon picked up a pattern for a simple apron with a ruffled edge. It would look nice.

“Good choice. I’m sure Rin will like it.” Katsuka said.

“Maybe. He gets defensive about people thinking he’s feminine.” Bon said.

“Sounds like a boy I know. About sixteen, looks like a delinquent, hates people knowing that he can sew because he thinks people will make fun of him for being girly. Let me tell you something: boy and girl activities don’t exist. Sure, you’ve got masculine and feminine, but that’s preferences. Anyone can do anything.”

Bon frowned and chose to ignore her. “Okay. I need baby blue fabric for this piece and maybe a white patterned piece for the pockets. Have anything that looks like toile? And lace piping.”

“And the genius is back. Follow me.”

Bon followed Katsuka through the aisles, picking out his materials. He couldn’t wait to see Rin’s face when he saw it.

****

“Nii-san, I will be back late tonight. Please stay in the dorm.” Yukio said.

Rin nodded as he watched Yukio shut his briefcase. His brother had nothing to worry about; Rin planned on staying in all night. He had his own plans, plans so shameful that he couldn’t even tell Yukio. Rin felt hot just thinking about them.

“No problem, Four-Eyes! I’ll make bentos for tomorrow!” Rin babbled happily.

Yukio offered a soft smile. “That sounds nice. Have fun.”

“Be careful, okay, Yukio?”

“Of course, Rin. I promise.”

With that, Yukio left for his mission, closing the door behind him. Rin rushed to the window. He watched, waiting for Yukio to leave the dorm entirely. Yukio turned back to wave at him and went on his way.

With his twin gone, Rin could finally do it.

Reaching under the bed, Rin pulled out a plain cardboard box and lifted the top. He began pulling out its contents, spreading them across the bed. Careful fingers ran over each item, enjoying the feel of soft fabric on his skin.

“Blue or yellow?” Rin asked himself, looking between his choices.

Before him were two simple dresses, one in blue and one in yellow. The blue one was Rin’s favorite; it had capped sleeves and the skirt fell to his knees, the mesh-like fabric swishing freely. The yellow one had its merits, too, though. It was sleeveless and the skirt was bowed out slightly, giving it a more formal look. It had a bit of glitter, which always made Rin feel pretty.

Rin’s hand hovered over both for a few moments before picking up the blue one. It would be the best one to cook in; Shiro had always called it his housewife dress.

The memory made Rin smile. The old man had found out about his hobby only a year after he had started it. He never teased Rin for liking feminine clothes. In fact, he had bought Rin a few dresses and skirts when he had the money to.

Pushing away the sadness swelling within his heart, Rin began to undress. He pulled on a pair of appropriate underwear - a pair Shiro had gotten him after he had caught Rin wearing boxers with a skirt - settling them on his hips before pulling the dress over his head. He smoothed out the skirt, twirling a bit.

Not bad. Wonder if I could find some cheap heels to go with it. It would probably make my ass look great, Rin thought, laughing to himself. He reached into the box and pulled out a pair of white flats, slipping them onto his feet. They would do for now.

Before he left for the kitchen, Rin stood in front of the mirror and grabbed the clip Bon had given him. He pinned his bangs back, wondering what Bon would think of his outfit. He’d probably get upset and say ‘what the hell are you wearing? Don’t you have any decency,’ Rin thought.

Rin headed to the kitchen, set on making rice balls for tomorrow’s bentos. He began taking out ingredients and placing them on the counter, ignoring Ukobach’s questioning eyes. Kuro hopped onto the counter and nuzzled Rin’s arm.

“You look pretty, Rin!” Kuro exclaimed.

Rin blushed. “Aw, thanks, Kuro.”

“Are you gonna make chicken rice balls? Can I have some?”

“You little jerk! You called me pretty for food!”

“Nuh-uh! I called you pretty because I meant it. Food was an afterthought.”

“Fine. I’ll save you some, okay?”

“Yay! Thanks, Rin!”

Rin smiled, stroking the demon’s fur before shooing him out of the kitchen. He began his work, humming happily and swaying his hips to make his dress swish around his legs.

****

It had taken some time to find a place to work on the apron in peace. The dorm had been out of the question; Konekomaru and Shima could barge in at any moment and catch Bon in the act. The library didn’t make the cut, either. Bon’s machine would be too loud and it also had the added risk of being full of people that could see him sewing. So, he searched high and low and finally found a fairly rundown classroom that he could use and have total privacy. He set up shop in the back corner and started his project.

“Tch, how tall is Okumura? He’s one of the shortest guys in the class. Screw it, I’ll just make it a large. If he doesn’t like it, he can kiss my ass.” Bon muttered to himself, cutting out the pattern carefully.

He began pinning the thin paper to the fabric, a frown of concentration on his face. Maybe he could make the bottom half of the apron flare out a little. It would only require adding onto the pattern slightly, so Bon pulled out a measuring tape and began drawing. He put a large curve on the bottom of the apron, giving it a dress-like appearance. Bon smirked. Wouldn’t Rin look cute, making his cookies and octopus hotdogs in his pretty apron?

When the hell did I start thinking Okumura would be cute ever? He looks like a monkey, Bon thought.

A small voice in the back of Bon’s mind seemed to laugh at him. Bon ignored it in favor of cutting the fabric. Once he had it cut and displayed, he fired up the machine and began the task of sewing it together.

****

“You made three bentos. Are going to eat extra tomorrow?” Kuro asked, nibbling at a rice ball.

“Huh? Nah. I made one for Bon.” Rin said absently, sprinkling some salt in the pot in front of him.

“For Bon? Why?”

Rin shrugged. “I wanted to. As a thank you for the hair clip.”

“But you made him cookies already. And sushi. And omelettes that time he came to see Yukio and he wasn’t here.”

“Look, Kuro, are you complaining about leftovers?”

Kuro shook his head. “No! But Shiro told me people cook for people they like. So do you like Bon?”

“That stupid rooster head? Hell no.”

“But you cook for him a lot. Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Besides, Yukio would kill Bon if he ever thought I liked him.”

“Yukio wouldn’t be mad, I think, if you liked him.”

Rim smiled softly. “Probably not. But I don’t have to worry about it anyway. Since I don’t like anyone. Besides, I’m not into guys.”

“Liar! You have all those mangas with the boys kissing and holding hands!”

“Shut up and don’t go through my things, you rotten little cat!”

Kuro laughed as Rin pouted. Rin was so silly; why couldn’t he just admit that he had a crush? If he did, Bon would be able to see him in all of his dresses and skirts and then Bon could tell Rin how pretty he was. Actually, now that Kuro thought about it, he had never seen Rin wear these clothes near other people, not even Yukio. It was unfortunate. Rin always looked happy in his dresses.

****

Two days later, Bon’s masterpiece was complete. It had taken six hours, using a chair as a mannequin, and pricking his fingers so much that he bled, but it looked beautiful. He took a picture and sent it to Katsuka. She had sent back a winky face and the words ‘I bet Rin will love it. Might even get you a kiss.’ Bon grit his teeth and shoved his phone in his pocket. Sometimes Katsuka could be annoying as hell.

He put the apron in a plain cardboard box despite wanting to wrap it nicely. He didn’t want Rin thinking he actually put effort into it. That could give him away, and then the little hellspawn might think Bon actually liked him. That would be mortifying.

Alright, time to drop it off. That bastard better like it. I should make him wear it everywhere with how much time it took, Bon thought as he headed towards the Okumura dorm. The box tucked beneath his arm felt heavier than it should have been. Maybe it was due to the anxiousness Bon was feeling over someone finding out he had sewn the garment. Or, perhaps more likely, it was Katsuka’s words that had him worried. Did he like Rin? Is that why he had put so much effort into the apron?

****

Music blared from Rin’s phone, filling the kitchen with obnoxious bubble gum pop and techno beats. His black skirt swayed as he danced through the room, mixing ingredients and chopping vegetables. Ukobach was manning the oven, stirring simmering pots of sauce and porridge. Kuro was sitting on the counter watching them work, enjoying his job as taste tester.

“Yo, Ukobach, can you add some cinnamon to that pudding? Yukio likes it to be really strong.” Rin said.

Ukoback nodded and grabbed the spice, dumping in a healthy amount before mixing it in. Rin smiled in thanks and returned to chopping celery. Yasai no nikumaki was on the menu for tomorrow’s bentos and they were as time consuming as they were delicious. He was glad he had Ukobach’s help; he’d never get done otherwise.

“You’re making three again?” Kuro asked.

“Yeah, why?” Rin asked.

“Because you’ve been making three all week. Who’s this one for?”

Rin looked away from the cat, hiding his face. “Just someone.”

“Oh! For Bon!”

Rin groaned. “Yes, okay? It’s not because I like him or anything, though! He just helped me with some homework!”

“Whatever you say.”

Rin sighed, frustrated. Kuro was so fixated on him liking Bon. So what if he made the guy food? Rin liked cooking. Sometimes he had extra. It wasn’t some conspiracy. Rin pulled at his skirt a bit before bending down to grab another chopping board. The last thing he wanted was anyone seeing his panties, even if the only people around him were people that knew that he wore them.

Pulling out a package of beef from the refrigerator, Rin began slicing it into thin sheets to make the rolls. He threw a slice to Kuro, laughing as the cat scarfed it down.

“Yum! Your food is so good, Rin. I bet everyone loves it!” Kuro praised.

“I hope so. I used to make this for Dad all the time. He’d laugh because I made the carrots look like hearts. He said it was literally putting love into the food. I think he was crazy. Like I’d do that for him.” Rin said.

“You miss him a lot. I do, too.”

Rin smiled softly. “I guess we need to eat these in his honor, then, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell over the kitchen for a moment before Rin decided it was too much.

“Hey, being sad in the kitchen is not allowed! I’m going to crank up the Girl’s Generation!” He exclaimed.

****

Bon knocked on the door to the dorm no less than twenty times before giving up. He looked up to Rin’s window, hoping to see the other boy. Normally, Rin would be at his desk, twirling a pencil, chin resting in his hand. Whenever Bon saw him, he would flip him off, and Rin would respond with a stupid face. However, the curtains were closed. Bon huffed. He knew Rin was there, so what the hell was he doing that was so important that he couldn’t answer the door?

“Okumura! Come open the door, you moron!” Bon yelled, banging on the door.

No response came. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, finding it open. Bon sighed, shaking his head. Rin really was an idiot, keeping his door unlocked when he was home alone. Bon stepped inside and toed off his shoes before making his way up the stairs.

He find Rin and Yukio’s room and knocked on the door. Again, there was no answer. Bon tried once more, receiving the same response.

“Damn it, Okumura! I’m not gonna wait around for you all night!” Bon snapped.

Bon stomped back down the stairs to continue his search. If Rin wasn’t in his room, the next possible place he could be was the kitchen. Bon walked down the hall, smirking when he heard music. He had found Rin. He quickened his pace, stepping into the kitchen only a minute later.

When he caught sight of Rin, he froze.

The black haired boy was dancing at the counter, his back to Bon. A knee-length black skirt was settled on his hips, swaying as Rin shook and shimmied. Black patent leather flats covered his feet, giving them an almost dainty look. A baseball shirt covered his top half, but it was about two sizes too big, causing it to fall off his shoulder. Bon gulped. What the hell had he walked into?

“Kuro, what’s wrong? I can’t understand you when you talk like that, it sounds like hissing.” Rin said.

Bon’s eyes flitted to the cat on the counter. He seemed to glare at Bon, as if he was personally offended by his presence. The cat let out a loud meow, finally causing Rin to turn around.

“Oh my God, Kuro, you can have some when -” Rin began.

His words trailed off as his blue eyes met Bon’s brown. Rin felt his cheeks heat up and he tried to pull down his skirt more, but the damage was done. Bon was staring at him, eyes fixated on his skirt, face unreadable.

“What the hell, Okumura?” Bon asked after a few minutes.

“Look, it’s not what you think - you know what? I don’t have to explain anything to you. Get out.” Rin said.

“Wait, I-”

“I said get out!”

“Shut up for a second! I don’t give a shit what you wear! Why didn’t you answer the goddamn door when I knocked?”

Rin’s eyes widened. “You - you aren’t mad? Not even a tiny bit?”

“I’m mad that you didn’t open the door.”

“But you aren’t mad about the skirt. You aren’t going to make fun of me.”

Bon snorted. “Like this is the weirdest thing you’ve done.”

Rin let out a sigh of relief. “Please don’t tell anyone. Not even Yukio knows, okay? You can’t tell.”

“Whatever. Here. This is for you. Thanks for the food.”

Bon tossed the box in his hands to Rin and shoved his hands in his pockets. Blue eyes looked at him curiously before opening the gift. Rin grinned as he pulled out the apron.

“Wow! This is so cool! Thanks, Bon!” Rin exclaimed.

Bon grimaced. “Don’t call me that. We aren’t friends.”

“Did you make it? I’ve never seen an apron like this.”

“What? Do I look like I know how to sew, Okumura? God, you’re a damn moron.”

Rin watched Bon’s eyes dart around, avoiding his eyes, and his smile widened. So Bon had made it. Rin didn’t see what he was embarrassed about; the apron looked awesome. Rin put the garment on, tying it around his waist.

“You’re pretty good. Who knew your big mitts could handle a needle?” Rin asked.

“I already told you I didn’t make it! And who knew your hairy damn monkey legs could look good in a skirt?” Bon shot back.

“You think I look good?”

Bon spluttered for a moment before crossing his arms. “No way in hell. Shut up.”

The two were silent for a moment, not looking at each other.

“Hey, uh, thanks. For the apron. And for promising not to tell.” Rin said quietly.

“Thanks for the food. You better keep your mouth shut about me being able to sew.” Bon said gruffly.

Rin simply nodded, taking what he could get. He smoothed out his apron and got back to work. Bon stood awkwardly in the doorway, contemplating what to do.

“Grab a knife, stupid. The cucumbers won’t cut themselves.” Rin said.

Bon grumbled as he followed Rin’s orders. He supposed he could do what the guy wanted just this once. It would be their secret.