#˖ ☼ 𝒸𝒽. » ( elise afton )

[ladyseidr]

@florietiae liked for a starter for ayleen!

"Well, while the boys work, I say we have a nice at-home spa day."

[ladyseidr]

She didn't recognize it yet—the relief that swept through her, right to the bone, when she successfully gained his attention over his work. ( Never one to vie for attention until now. ) Every bit of offered affection caught under her ribcage in a flutter of sentiment instilled from the moment they had met. Gathering it like scraps.

For the moment, she was content. His hand rested at her back and the way he pressed into her kiss was enough to quiet any questions hanging in the back of her mind. A second kiss pressed to his lips, firmer, but ever shorter. Intentional, if the quirked corner of her lip meant anything.

"Oh, yes. You know, I've been told I'm quite the negotiator," she joked, gaze soft as she watched him near. Mood lifted even more by his easy agreement. If it were always so simple, and if she were not stuck at home, everything might be alright. But that thought could be stewed in later.

His hands at her waist, lips to hers—she sighed into it, arms encircling his neck loosely. She didn't release him when the kiss was broken, only brushed her nose against his cheek with a small laugh. "I've missed you even more." Her fingers coaxed some of the hair from his face, eyes taking him in. Committing him to memory again and again.

Even as she pressed ever closer, savoring his nearness, she whispered, "You know, the coffee's going to get cold." Almost scolding, if one ignored the light behind her eyes. Or the way she pressed back up to capture his mouth once more, tip of her tongue teasing at the roof of his mouth almost playfully. Broken once more to reach down and take both of his hands in hers. "We're still not doing this here." A joke, perhaps, although she tugged him along out of the room and into the hall.

𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛-𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. as while elise was well aware of his habits before now [...] apparent with his painting, drawing and other such hobbies -- he always tended to try and quell the guilt felt by his countless hours of lost time. head down in his work, when he had a happy family whom all wanted his time. who hardly had it as it is. yet he sometimes offers more attention. anything to feel like a good husband.

his own smile had been reflected in his eyes, though his mouth follows suit with ease of muscles at her own quirked mouth. laughing nervously, though it is easily passed off as relaxed. 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕.

hand rests naturally on her back, pleased with her weight upon him. long fingers easily rid of the pen to similarly land on her leg. rubbing it, idly.

he's casually dressed for him. a black led zeppelin t-shirt, a loose open sweater and jeans. day off at home, rendering usual wardrobe unneeded.

his eyes are narrowed in his chuckle, nodding his head. "is that right?" smooth tone is dropped low. thumb swiping over her knee, without a look over to forgotten bench. to dropped work. no reason to, as he'd been doing more routine business paperwork. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚛. working through his own little secret projects, far from henry's judging eyes. though still there's a building need in his sternum he tries to shove away. selfish.

he laughs a bit more when loving fingers give him a shake -- jostling his long hair along his temples. something which widens his smile before he leans a little too heavy into her light kiss. making a soft noise into her mouth until she pulls back.

smirk retained, will tilts his head in her rise with a nod. giving in. "mm. you really do drive a hard bargain, don't you?" he stands up. hand helping him as it hits the end of the table. but instead of leading into the kitchen, his smirk rises further. head tilted downward, whilst his hands curl around her waist. 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

"i've missed you."

[ladyseidr]

@trapton asked: ❝ ❛  you know i love you, right?  ❜ hi mrs afton ❤️ ❞ ( grumpy x sunshine sentence starters )

"Yes, my love." The words came with audible exasperation, though the smile curling her lips was hard to miss. Dropped herself sideway into his lap, plucking the pen right from his fingers. "And I can tell you all about how much I love you when you take a break with me."

She pulled the cap of the pen from the end, replacing it at the tip before dropping the pen aside. She admired how much passion he had for his work, saw herself in him in that way. ( The resentment won't set in for a handful more years. ) Fingers came to curl at his chin, thumb gently cinching as she gave him a playful shake. All followed by her leaning only nearer, lips catching his in a simple, soft show of affection. She loved him more than she knew how to put into words, and so settled on rising, hand clasping his on the way up and tugging at him lightly. "Come on, I made coffee."

[ladyseidr]

@muutos liked for a short starter from Elise for Vanessa.

She had just left William's office, face pulled into forced politeness as she stood face to face with the other woman. "Elise," she introduced herself. "The ex. And you're one of the newer employees, right?"

[ladyseidr]

@trapton asked: ❝ ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ELISE ❞ ( 100 nonverbal prompts )

She was still all dolled up, perfected makeup and black gown that hugged her torso until spilling out around her legs. Only her heels had been cast aside at the end of the bed, jewelry being shed onto the dresser top while she swayed along to crackling music pouring from her quickly aging record player in the corner of the room. It was all habit. Come home after an evening out, turn on a favorite record—Your Song this time—and take her time peeling off clothes and removing makeup in the attached bathroom. Her necklace was only just lowered to the dresser as she felt arms encircle her waist, a small laugh instantly escaping her. At first, she only swayed with Will, hands rested over his. Then, she turned in his arms, easily and naturally falling into a more proper position, hand in his and the other at his shoulder.

"Comme c'est romantique," she murmured, a quirk in her smile as she allowed him to lead, following his movements fluidly if not with a touch of playfulness. "So, I guess I will get to dance tonight, won't I?" She had made some offhand comment about the distinct lack of dance—had he remembered? A small sigh, gaze soft and brimming with something impossible to explain. But she could try: "I love you, Will." She drew herself closer to him, resisting the urge to end the dance early for a kiss ( or ten ). "Now—" and there was her grin, "—try not to run us into the bed."

[ladyseidr]

"Vanessa," Elise repeated, offered hand accepted and shaken with a sort of performed delicacy. One part trained into her, another part like she could hardly stand to touch Vanessa. ( Couldn't pinpoint it, but already rubbed wrong by something. ) "That's a lovely name. Like Cadenus And Vanessa." She would have denied it over and over, but in there hid a slight note of superiority.

It was the next comments, the drives at Elise career, her decisions, that helped her put together her thoughts on Vanessa:

Oh, so she's a bitch.

Elise's smile flickered only a touch, the crux of the dig brushed aside in favor of focusing on something else. "You know about that? I wasn't aware he still spent time talking about me." Testing the waters, but she knew. Why else would some strange employee comment on Elise's personal life? "I guess he's fraternizing with his own workers now." Her tone read like this was a typical conversation, otherwise polite body language betrayed by eyes sweeping over Vanessa's form. "Funny. At least he used to do better. He'll take what he can get now, I suppose."

She didn't need William—didn't want him. ( Still loved him. ) But she sure as hell wouldn't let some girl drag up her personal business.

ғʀᴇsʜ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs ʙɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴘᴀʟᴍs, she'd leered angrily from behind the counter. hard to keep it from her clenched expression. territorial like a pitbull on a leash, foaming mouth bite but held back before she can strike for what is HER'S. though she had been the first to introduce herself with pretty fake smile forced in behind hidden teeth biting tongue, forcing tiers further up in pain. "vanessa." she corrects, head tilting while sticking out her hand. her heart painfully radiating, blood pumping green through her veins ignored. "so -- you're the big orchestra star." her smile grows and then diminishes. (is she bitingly over-stating success? maybe). all she'd needed was her name, and then she'd scoured any recourse to figure anything out that william hadn't told her. at least that was public information. she really meant to dig at how she left her husband with the children. "that must be exciting."

[ladyseidr]

@bravevolunteer asked: ❝ “I don’t know what’s good for me.” for elise ❞ ( hounds of love sentence starters )

They were sat in her small home, outskirts of Hurricane for a weekend visit. She rarely felt like a good mother any more, but his words only exacerbate that ache. She wouldn't make it about her, though. Instead, she reached out, hand grasping his and squeezing. "Nobody really does at your age." And she knew it was different, knew this wasn't all just typical growing up. Still felt the anguish of a lost child. But she never blamed Michael for that. Only William. ( And herself, for not being there. )

"You're going to figure it out, sweetheart. And I'll be here for you." More than she had been in the past. She reached up, took his face in her hand. "I know it's hard right now, but you've got so much ahead of you."

[ladyseidr]

Elise Afton bio, aka Mrs. Afton!! Once again, this is heavily based around my William ( @spring-lxcked ) and anything regarding him can be changed if/when interacting with other Wills. This can and probably will be edited more and probably have more added to the end if I ever add her as an official muse, but for now this suffices!! This has also only been proofread, like, once, so ignore any Issues lmao

tw: period typical misogyny, vague reference to internalized homophobia, pregnancy, emotional neglect, child death, implied child murder, vague mention of physical abuse not directed at anyone specific, cheating.

you're born in autumn, the instantly adored daughter to bernard and camille monteil. you're in the heart of central france, but you will not remember it well. by your second year of life, your family has packed up and moved to America. you walk for the first time on the linoleum kitchen floor of the small family home. your family will move a handful of times, but this will be your home for the first ten years of your life.

your childhood is near perfect. your parents spent years trying for a child, and you will be the only one they have. they dote on you. while your friends' parents are stern, your parents have a kinder parenting style for the times. they never raise a hand or switch to you. punishments are present, but fair. you benefit from this. you grow into an emotionally intelligent young girl with very little conflict to face.

middle school ends this. your parents once again pack up and move with you in tow, leaving your elementary friends behind. you start junior high a stranger to the area—a small town in Ohio. for the first time, you resent your parents. after all, the family had to move for your father's work. ( this resentment will not last more than a couple of months. ) for the first time, you find out that people can be cruel without reason. your soft, naïve personality is taken advantage of, other kids seeing you as an easy target to tease. as difficult as it is, you are lucky to have a support system—both your parents and some newly made friends.

you learn quickly that it take a harsh tongue to get rid of the bullies. by the time you're thirteen, nobody will mess with you, nor does anybody believe you are cruel. you are known for being quick-witted but kind. you don't particularly care how you're viewed, and it benefits you more than you can comprehend.

high school comes easy to you. on the outside, you're the perfect teenage daughter. you sail through your classes with top marks. you make many friends and twice as many acquaintances. you appear confident, but not superior. you obey you parents, following curfews and hardly ever stepping out of line even when their backs are turned. you're sporty, but feminine. you're pretty, but not cocky. you'll be prom queen alongside your boyfriend of two years.

on the inside, you are having an identity crisis. it is difficult to fit into the unspoken expectations of your peers, teachers, and parents. you make it seem so easy, but internally you are buckling under the pressure. your grades slip, but never enough to draw much attention. you break up with your first and only boyfriend without clear reason. you flake on friends. you struggle against gender norms, the talks of how you will be a housewife one day. ( you don't want that. you want a career. you parents are skeptical. ) you'll fight against this, both genes and stress combining into an eventual anxiety disorder, although you will not know that until you're much, much older.

college is when you find yourself. away from family and most familiar faces, you attend an all women's university in-state. the first year is a struggle, but you gradually settle in. by second year, you've decided to follow your long time passion: music. you have danced since you were twelve, played the flute since you were fifteen. you initially bounce between choreography and being a musician. in the end, you find a focus on becoming a music teacher with a plan to seek orchestral work on the side.

you discover your identity in more depth than ever before. a best friend turns into a mutual crush and, after much worry and back-and-forth, a girlfriend. the relationship will end fairly amicably before you graduate, and it will remain a happy memory. you find that you not only enjoy dance, but any hobby that gets your body moving. you only become more sporty. surrounded by future career women, you find it much easier to block out your parents' worries.

you graduate university, and you follow your parents to a city in Utah. with their support, you spend half a year seeking out somewhere you would like to live and work. you don't want to be too far from your parents. it's during this time that you travel to a smaller town: hurricane. it's a nice enough place, not as quiet as you might expect but certainly no city. you explore with very little expectation that you will ever live there.

you believe in fate and you'll swear that's what it was that caused you to run into william afton that day. whether this fate was good or bad will be debated for the rest of your life. he's charming and funny, with an oh-so modern fashion and hair dragging his shoulders. ( the hair will go soon, but the fashion will remain. ) he shows you around, guiding you to the best spots in the town and slowly cultivating the beginning of your love for hurricane. you sit in a diner and talk for nearly two hours straight, about both your dreams and his. you're both creatives, you're both passionate. you exchange phone numbers. when you return home, your parents will instantly know you've met someone. it's impossible to hide when near every phone call in or out is between you and william.

you move to hurricane, settling into a job as a music teacher at the local junior high easily. jobs in an orchestra are harder to come by, but you don't give up searching nearby towns. in no time, you're going steady with William. he supports your local performances, you support the opening of his pizzeria. you both confess love quickly, your love for him only growing the more you get to know him. within another year, you're married with full support of your parents. less expectedly, you're pregnant within ten months.

everything seems to fall apart all at once. your pregnancy puts your job at threat and quickly makes outside work impossible. william's pizzeria falls through, bought out by his own best friend and business rival. finances are strapped, your parents unable to help much and his out of the picture. still, for all the stress, william is strangely resolute. ( you know he's hiding anger, but you assume he's doing it for you and the baby. ) he's doting on you more and more the further the pregnancy progresses. you're not so resolute. you find it difficult to not occasionally lash out at him. somewhere deep beneath the surface, his refusal to reciprocate the anger only makes it worse. he has an answer for everything and overconfidence to top it off. if he knows it bothers you, he ignores it.

michael seems to fix everything. the two of you take to being parents quickly, in awe of your newborn son. with fredbear's family diner doing well, money is less of a problem and you both spend all of your free time cooing over little michael. lack of sleep and recovery from a c-section are all countered by the way william looks at both you and mike. you're happy, any previous resentment swept under the rug by bleary parental bliss.

william works long hours, but is far from an absent father and husband. ( this won't last forever, you should savor these moments. ) you make the tentative decision to not return to work until mike is a bit older. you have no intention of becoming a housewife and william is content with whatever you decide. but you can't afford daycare right now, so is it truly your decision?

elizabeth and evan come quickly, just as soon as mike is old enough for you to start considering going back to work. one after the other with only a year between. you go on birth control for the first time as soon as possible—it's only just become widely legal. you love your children dearly, but some part of you resents what has been taken from you. the moment elizabeth starts school, you take what excess cash you have to pay for daycare for evan. you get a job as a music teacher at the high school. you finally feel a little like yourself again.

since just before evan's birth, things have began to change. your previously doting husband works all hours, often late into the nights. his time home is spent with the children, but rarely you. to the kids, he's a fairly present. to you, he's a ghost in the home. when you confront him about it, he acts obtuse. he truly believes nothing is wrong. he doesn't seek you out, and you refuse to throw yourself at him. you only grow more distant.

you make your own mistakes. you're lonely. you accept the advances of coworker for longer than you should. you don't deign to hide it. you want william to notice. it takes far longer than it should. when he does, you get your first real view of the rage is always suppressed. it doesn't scare you. you get equally as angry, as cruel. the argument doesn't end until you both spot elizabeth listening in. you decide on the divorce in that moment.

you don't fight for custody. ( this will haunt you even on your deathbed ). your job doesn't pay well enough to support three children. william uses your affair against you in court and leaves you with almost nothing. some part of you is glad he takes the kids. he has never seemed a bad father, only a bad husband. you get no official custody, but william has the courtesy to let you have the kids over any weekend you wish. you know it's only for the kids' benefits. the man who once adored you now seethes with anger behind his eyes whenever he looks at you. you can't decide what you feel toward him. you never will.

you fail to be there for the kids. at first, they're over most weekends. but years down the line when you finally find a well-paying job in an orchestra, you move further out. you're happy to be far from hurricane, the streets haunted by the young, charming man who had taught you to love it. but the kids can't come at often and, as your work picks up, you don't invite them as often. the irony isn't lost on you. you despise yourself, but do little to fix it.

each loss destroys what is left of you. evan's death, and michael's connection to what happened. elizabeth's disappearance, and the whispers that she was probably taken by whomever was committing the other murders throughout the town. william's disappearance, and the subsequent realization that he was the hurricane serial killer, that he had killed his own friend's daughter and so many more. ( even after all this time, you find it hard to believe. you try to deny it, but the evidence is overwhelming. ) you reach out to michael, and then he disappears as well. you have nothing left.

[ladyseidr]

@florietiae asked: ❝ ''oh my god, you slept with him.'' / from ayleen, for elise! from that one wishlist post you made asgfdh. ❞ ( ref )

"All I did was walk in the door!" Not usually one to respond so loudly, but the incredulity was too strong to ignore. Bag set aside on the entryway table, she walked further into her friend's home, arms already crossing over chest defensively. "Why would I sleep with my ex-husband? I divorced him for a reason." Several very good reason, in fact. None of which involved their compatibility in bed.

"I dropped something off and then we talked for a few minutes over coffee. Checked in." Then spent the rest of the time decidedly not talking. It was a hard lie to pass when her supposed "quick visit" had clearly lasted much, much longer. ( It wasn't even a lie worth trying to tell. ) Finally, her shoulders slumped, Elise relenting and walking to sit on the sofa by Ayleen. "Don't ask why it happened." She couldn't have explained if she had wanted to, too many emotions locked up and trapped in her relationship—what was left of it—with William. Eyes downcast, a small breath passed her lips. Then, a weak smile. "You think I'm an fool, don't you?"

[ladyseidr]

@bravevolunteer asked: ❝ 👻 decorate the house for Halloween (for elise) ❞ ( cozy autumn prompts )

Elise was glowing, a bright grin set in place as she ruffled Michael's hair on her way past. Pulling more decorations from the box—a string of hanging ghosts this time—she spoke cheerily. "I can't wait to surprise your father! You know how much he loves Halloween." Her marriage was falling apart. Elise, the resentful doting not-quite-housewife. William, the hardworking husband who would no doubt find a dozen imperfections to pick apart about her decorating. Hopefully, he could at least wait until they were alone to complain.

For now, she wore a bright façade of domestic bliss, only a marginally less skilled liar than her husband. ( Or so she thought. ) She held up the string of ghosts for Michael to view. "So, over the front door or in the living room? Your decision." She wasn't all too invested in the decorating, the task more chosen for bonding with her eldest than out of her own excitement. "Or should these be one of the decorations going up in your room?" A joke but, well, she would have caved easily.

[ladyseidr]

@rabbitraw asked: ❝ just wondering what you taste like. / for Elise ❞ ( what if we kissed? prompts )

Elise let the comment linger in silence for a moment, uncrossing and re-crossing the near-bare legs she so enjoyed showing off in a short dress. A drag of her cigarette, eyes scanning over Vanessa's figure. ( Always liked to believe she had the upper hands in sex and all things related, whether or not that was true. ) "You know, I could take that two ways. But I'll be kind and spare you the trouble of me making assumptions." ( As though she wouldn't have jumped at either opportunity. )

"You know, you only need to ask." And here she was standing, crossing what little space there was between them, and reaching out to trace a finger along Vanessa's jaw. There was something ravenous in her gaze and touch, forefinger sliding to pinch chin between it and her thumb. Like Elise enjoyed this potential act of theft, their first meeting ever-present in the back of her mind. Her thumb lifted, brushed over Vanessa's bottom lip. "Just say please, pretty thing."

[ladyseidr]

@avemaria liked for a starter for Mrs. Emily.

"I think we both could use a break from all the fuss, don't you?"

[ladyseidr]

@trapton asked: ❝ [ COLD ]: elise! ❞ ( wintry prompts )

Elise enjoyed the wintertime: the chill air, the warm clothes, and the festivities. The walk through the snow, arms crossed over faux fur coat and breath steaming the air, was only improved by Will's presence at her side. Still, she ought to have known they wouldn't end the season without him starting a war, that the peace would only last so long. The snowball struck her squarely in the ribs, surprise earning him only a second or so of gawking before realization set in. The corners of her lips tugged into a smirk. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be?" She dusted the snow from her coat, brow cocked. Elise wasn't one to run around like a child, playing games. She had dignity—sometimes, it seemed, a little too much.

But, well, dignity was nice, but winning was better. She didn't hesitate a moment longer, crouching only long enough to gather up a handful of snow before taking off. Powder packed into a solid snowball, she threw it in Will's direction without stopping, watching only long enough to see it connect before she was forming another. "You know, I believe I've mentioned I was quite sporty growing up," she called out, flash of teeth in his direction as she squared herself up across from him. "Don't start something you can't finish, love." ( Alright, perhaps she was a bit competitive. )

[ladyseidr]

@muutos filled out Elise's type bingo:

"Two?" Well, this was unexpected. The results are undeniable though—they are more of a match than Elise ever would have guessed. "Well. . ." A pause. "Noted."

[ladyseidr]

@trapton filled out Elise's type bingo card:

"It could be worse, I suppose." Her smile betrays her, words only meant in jest. She's happy with these results. "Only teasing, my love. You know you're the only one I belong with.

[ladyseidr]

@trapton asked: ❝ ❛ you taste like heaven. ❜ elise! ❞ ( & more smut sentence starters )

Her eyes rolled shut, every sort of undignified sound she could produce passing lipstick-smeared mouth. One of several pieces of evidence that they had hardly returned home before stumbling toward the bedroom. Tresses of hair fallen from their style, button-up blouse undone, skirt gathered up at her waist—picture definition of disheveled. And then the rest: legs over his shoulders, his head between her thighs, one hand in his hair and the other clutching uselessly at the sheets. She was rolling against his face, breasts heaving with heavy breaths.

His words dragged a breathless laugh from her, more fond than amused. She brushed her fingers through his hair, offering a small shake of the head. "Even saying that you sound so smug." ( Not a complaint on her part. ) Still, the pause of his mouth, his tongue was another thing entirely. Faint frustration and arousal intermingled in her next words: "Now, enough talking." She was far too close to the edge to not complain a little.