#so obviously William has just shrugged these things off for years

[chloesimaginationthings]

Why did William get FNAF springlocked? Is he stupid?

[anyarose011]

The Most "Wonderful" Time of the Year {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Despite a nice trip to the art gallery and ice skating rink, sometimes, Andy Williams just gets it wrong.

Part 8 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, description of nudity (on art), suggestive conversations, minor sexual harassment, a father has issues, fighting, Reader has a knife, and ANGST.

Heyyy guys (senior year, once again, has been kicking my ass and I also started a new mini-series that should be done soon). Again, I'm so sorry for how long it took me to upload and write this, and I know this chapter is short, but I swear it's got good shit in it. It's also fitting to have more chapters around Christmas time since, you know, this be a Christmas movie (yes, Alexander Payne, this can be a standalone movie, but you set it during Christmas so....) Anywho, I hope you like it (and that it breaks your heart :)

Word Count: 5.5k

You hated to admit it, but you actually like history museums. Even though your father always dragged you to them from childhood to adulthood, you didn’t really mind them. Your father’s additional commentary only added to the experience as you walked through the Greek section. It didn’t really for Angus.

“Are we almost done?” He asked.

“Quit whining.” You reprimanded him.

“I’m not.”

Your father chuckled. “What’s your hurry? I thought you liked Antiquity?”

He sighed. “In class, maybe. But I never think about it unless I need to.”

Humming, your father pointed to a casing of ceramics behind you. “Here, what do you see?”

You and Angus turned. Of course, he said. “A bunch of pottery.”

“Look at that one.” He pointed.

You certainly weren’t expecting to see a man diving his dick into a woman as she bent over to pick something up on an ancient Grecian artifact, but there you were in the Boston Fine Arts Museum, jaw on the floor.

“Amy look, a Candy Cane!” Angus teased.

“I hate you.” Was all that managed to leave your lips.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. “Children, there’s nothing new in human experience. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man’s every appetite and impulse, from the disgusting to the sublime, is on display right here, all around you.” He gestured around the room filled with art. “So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember that if you truly want to understand the present, or yourself, you must begin in the past. History is not merely the past; it’s an explanation of the present.”

Angus nodded. “See, when you say it that way, and throw in some pornography, it’s a lot easier to understand.”

Mr. Hunham glanced over at you, surprised at your lack of outburst. “You’re not going to comment on that?”

“No,” you shrugged. “porn helping men understanding things checks out.”

Angus snorted, turning back to the teacher. “You should try talking more and yelling less in class. You know, most of the kids pretty much hate you. Teachers, too. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” You glared at him as if to say, ‘Lay off’.

Your father nodded, obviously trying not to show the hurt that was apparent on his face. “Well, I appreciate your frequent candidness, Mr. Tully.”

“Sure…” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

It was then you realized another thing about Angus Tully that reminded you about yourself: You only noticed how horrible your words were as soon as you were done saying them.

The rest of your time at the art museum wasn’t as awkward as that entire scene, thankfully. The sun had completely set by the time you had exited, and the three of you made your way to the park. It almost made you laugh how quick Angus was to the booth to rent ice skates.

“Have you been ice skating before?” He asked as you both sat on the bench, tying up your skates.

“Once when I was eight, I think. You?”

“I played hockey until high school.” He finished tying his and stood. “And I go every chance I get when I’m in the city.”

“So, you should only fall if I push you, right?”

“Right.”

You smiled after double knotting your ice skates and approached the entrance to the rink. “My feet feel weird.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been skating for almost ten years.” He teased, walking past you and standing on the ice with ease.

Sighing, you took a step out and immediately started flailing. Still, the two of you laughed when you retreated back to solid ground. “Nope.”

Angus begged. “Come on.”

“Nuh uh, not going to do it.”

“Your dad paid a good two dollars for us to skate, and you’re going to waste it?” He joked.

“Two dollars doesn’t mean anything to my father if I’m dead!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“But-.”

He said your name with the right amount of sincerity and playfulness. “You can hold onto me. I’ll cushion you if you do fall.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you still held onto the side railing, but stepped out onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, you began walking.

“You don’t want to do that.” Angus skated by your side at your pace.

“I’m alright.” You struggled to say.

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell. Come on.”

You stared down at it as if he had never touched you before. Still, you took it. You expected him to pull you out into the center and leave you there for dead (or try to figure out how to skate on your own), but instead, you stayed by the wall.

“Okay, you’re gonna want to lean forward, and just glide; don’t walk.” He explained, showing you.

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. Just trust me.”

Against what your nervous system was saying, you decided to. Leaning forward, you tried to copy him; and it worked for like a few seconds before you started tripping over your own feet. He caught you, of course.

“Hey, not bad!” He held you up so you could stand.

“I almost died.”

“You’re standing on your own though!” He backed away, and you still were. “That’s a good start.”

You wanted to fire a nasty retort at him, but you could only girlishly giggle. You don’t know how long you spent on that ice skating rink with him. Yes, there would be times when your feet would ache, or you’d be a mix of sweaty from the physical labor of skating and freezing from the cold, Massachusetts air. Yet, as you finally gathered your footing, you felt as if you could compete in the next Olympics.

You couldn’t, of course, but you sure had the confidence to do so.

And it was fun to laugh and talk with Angus. It always was, but it felt as if you were both on an actual date as you skated together. To everyone else on that ice rink, you were. When Angus had completely fallen onto the ice (you didn’t actually push him down, he fell on his own), pulling you down with him, you’d nearly forgotten that your father was chaperoning you two as you laughed.

After leaving the rink and taking your skates back, you walked up a set of stairs with your father and Angus, discussing where to go for dinner when-.

“Paul Hunham, is that you?!” A man and a woman approached the three of you with a gleeful look. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Cavanaugh.”

Your father’s face fell for just a moment before laughing. “Yes! Yes, of course. Wow, Hugh Cavanaugh. Oh, how are you, Hugh?”

“Oh God, what’s it been? Thirty years?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Oh, uh this is my wife, Karen. Honey, this is Paul Hunham; we went to Harvard together.”

She smiled, shaking his hand, then yours, then Angus’. “Hello.”

“Yes,” your dad nodded at Hugh’s comment. “yes we did. Uh, wow; what have you been up to, Hugh? Still in the area?”

“Oh, uh, yes-yes I’m still in Boston. Cambridge.”

“Harvard.” Karen said proudly. “He just got tenure, statistics. He won’t blow his own horn, I have to blow it for him.”

“Okay,” Hugh said to change the subject. “what about you, Paul?”

“Oh, still teaching, we have that in common.” He nodded. “History, ancient history.”

“That’s great, that’s great. Where?”

“Abroad mostly.” Your father lied through his teeth on each word. “On fellowships. Privately funded fellowships. Universities and private academies. Mostly fellowships, you know. I’m currently posted in Antwerp. Just back here for the holidays.”

“So, are these your kids?” He pointed to you and Angus.

“Well-.”

“-I’m his nephew, Laurie.” Angus cut in, then looked at you. “This is my cousin, Amy.”

Karen smiled. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Hugh squinted his eyes as if to see you more clearly. Then, he chuckled. “Paul, do you know who she looks like?”

Your father hummed. “I would hope me.”

It was weird to hear your mother’s full name come out of a stranger’s mouth. He went on. “Do you see it? Same nose, same hair; you are the spitting image of beauty, young lady.”

Snickering, you didn’t even think of thanking him. “I’ve been told I have more of her temper than her looks. Although, our mouths are the same.”

“I have no doubt.” He laughed. “Paul, do you remember that one time freshman year?”

“Oh yes!” Your father pretended to. “When she-it was that one time during Roman history when Nolan-.”

“-Wouldn’t call on her when she was the only one to raise her hand,” Hugh looked back at you as if you didn’t know the story from the set up. “so she fed all the boys in the room the wrong answers for the rest of the class!”

“Yep,” Mr. Hunham nodded. “even I fell victim to it.”

Hugh was the only one who had relatively been amused by the fable. “Never put you and her together.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

The group fell into a strange silence after that. Thank God for Angus Tully.

“He’s writing a book now.” He titled his head toward your father. “Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul.”

“My book.” Your father snickered, then immediately played it off. “It’s not a book, really. Just a monograph. Nothing special.”

You decided to jump in. “Don’t be so modest, dad. It’s about, uh, cameras, right? Ancient cameras?”

Hugh hummed, a quizzical look on his face.

“What she means, of course, is the camera obscura.” Your father explained. “You know, the optical and astronomical tool that dates back to, um, the time of Anaxagoras.

“Tell him the title, Uncle Paul.” Angus went back, and you masked your smile for one of curiosity and not at the misfortune of your father.

“He’s not interested, Laurie.”

Hugh smiled. “Sure, I am.”

Sighing, Paul Hunham said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm and disinterest. “Lights and Magic in the Ancient World.”

Hugh nodded before turning back to his wife, and then to your father, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “Well, Paul, I’m so glad you landed on your feet. You look swell.”

“You too. So, swell.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Amy.” He said to you.

Thinning your lips in a tight smile, you said. “Thanks.”

Him and Karen walked away hand in hand, but he turned over his shoulder. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your book, Paul. Won’t we, honey?”

 She nodded. Of course. Merry Christmas, Paul. Bye, Laurie and Amy.”

You all wished them ‘Merry Christmas’ as you three also left. Angus wasted no time turning to you.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“You’re asking me?!” You matched him. “You sprung into ‘Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul!’, ‘What’s the title, Uncle Paul?’.”

“I had to think of something!”

Your father sighed. “I appreciated your efforts, but I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked. “Can we get dinner now?”

“I need to pick something up from the liquor store first.”

Sighing overdramatically, you and Angus stumbled behind your father. That was when you looked at the boy beside you. “Also, Laurie and Amy? Really?”

“What? They’re like brother and sister. If I said you were Jo, then that would’ve been weird.”

Oh my god, he wasn’t even halfway through the book.

You wish you had a camera solely to capture the look on your father’s face as he turned over and stared at both of you. You wonder if that was when he found out about you and Angus.

Shaking your head, you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff as you said. “Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean ‘unbelievable’?” Angus questioned. “Jo and Laurie get married in the end, right?”

“Unbelievable.” You repeated but smiled this time.

“Right?!”

Your father sighed as you finally made it to the store. “Look, the fact of the matter is, what happened, happened, and we should just pretend it didn’t.”

Angus furrowed his brow as you all walked in. “I thought Barton men don’t lie. Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth.”

He held up his hand, not having it. “What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You’re not to judge me.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation; your daughter and I were there. Besides, he brought her into it.”

“I’m right here.” You announced yourself.

“Why’d he ask if you landed on your feet?”

Your father glanced up from searching through the shelves. “What is this, Nuremberg?”

“You’re the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on about the honor code!”

Looking up at both of you, Paul Hunham sighed. “There was an incident at Harvard with my roommate.”

You gave him a look. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarizing.”

“Well, did you?” Angus asked.

“No! He stole from me.” Your father relented. “But that blue-blooded prick’s family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, so he accused me in order to sanitize his treachery. And they threw me out.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “you got kicked out for cheating?”

“No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him.”

Angus asked. “You hit him? Like punched him out?”

“No, I hit him with a car.”

“You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?!”

��By accident,” he approached the counter, talking to the cashier. “Pint of Jim Beam, please.”

You piped up, still in astonishment. “Mom said you left because your grandma was dying.”

“She was, it was just perfect timing to go and help take care of her.” He shrugged. “But my roommate broke three ribs. Which was technically his fault, because he shouldn’t have been in the road.

“Two dollars, please.” The cashier said.

Your father took his wallet out, continuing his story. “Also, he shat himself; which was the greatest indignity.”

The cashier handed him the wrapped-up bottle. “Here you go, killer.”

You couldn’t help your laughter at the sudden statement. As the three of you left and walked down the darkened, cold roads, Angus said.

“So, Mr. Hunham never even graduated college? Holy shit, you didn’t even finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?”

“Did mom even know about you hitting the guy?” You asked.

Your father nodded. “Of course she knew! She gave me an earful on the phone the first time she called me after I left. It was only Dr. Greene who knew it after that. He’d always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty: zero respect and even less pay, so nobody batted an eye, and I’ve been at the school ever since.”

“Are you ashamed at how things turned out?” Angus questioned.

“Not at all. I’m proud of my work, I love history, I married the smartest and kindest woman on the planet, I helped raise a spitfire of a girl, I love Barton. Barton is my life now. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then why did you lie to that guy?”

“Because I knew he’d relish the fact that I’m a washout and never left my own high school. And he’d probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know. So, I figured he’s not entitled to my story. I am. “

Angus nodded. “Yeah. Fuck that guy.”

“Exactly. Fuck that guy!”

“Fuck him, I hope his car slides on black ice and crashes into a lamp post.” You chimed in.

“Woah,” Angus gasped.

Your father said your name scoldingly.

“What?” You scoffed. “It was weird as hell when he talked to me about my mom like he knew me.”

“I’ll admit it was strange and unnecessary.” Your father tossed his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He looked at both you and Angus. “But you’ll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know.”

“Entre nous, sir.” Angus nodded. “Entre nous.”

Your father nodded then chuckled, poking you. “‘Ancient cameras’. Where’d the hell you come up with that?”

“I tried my best!” You whined. After the men ceased in their laughter, you then said. “Can we please get dinner now?”

“Alright, alright.” Your father snorted. “Where would you like to go for your absolutely atrocious food concoction?”

“South Street.”

“I figured.”

And that is where the three of you went. It shouldn’t have surprised you it was packed the day after Christmas, which was also a Saturday. It had to have been a miracle you managed to get in line only when it was starting to go out the door; a few minutes after you arrived, the line had started to curve around to the nearest streetlight.

The diner was filled with life once you got in; families pushing tables together, friends absolutely drunk off their asses laughing, even half of the staff seemed to be enjoying the sheer joy from others. Of course, a few were understandably stressed and annoyed from the number of customers and their behavior.

The three of you were soon sitting at a booth. When Angus sat close to the window, instead of sliding into the seat across from him, you took the one beside him. Leaving your father alone on the other side. To ordinary people, it perhaps didn’t mean anything; but you still felt as if it was a signal.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Christmas music.” Your father grumbled as The Ronettes sang about a sleigh ride and he slipped off his jacket.

You giggled, copying him. “It was just yesterday.”

“I know, but still.”

“I like this song, thank you very much.”

He held up his menu as if to hide his disgust. You and the boy beside you chucked as Angus said. “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“You don’t know if you have?” You asked.

“It feels familiar. Maybe when I was a kid?”

“We’d always come here when we’d visit Boston.” You looked at your father. “The owner gave me a free banana split when I turned twelve, he knew us so well, right?”

That managed to pull a laugh out of him. “That he did. If he’s here tonight maybe you could get a free dinner for us.”

You and Angus looked down at the menu before you, and soon enough, an exhausted waitress came by to take your drink orders and lay down silverware. Immediately, you asked for French fries and your favorite milkshake.

“There’s no way that’s going to be good.” Angus pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” You scoffed.

“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”

“What you’re speaking of is an opinion, not even a theory. If you ever want to make it in this world, I suggest you learn the different between those two before you can even begin to comprehend what an actual fact is.”

“And what is an actual fact?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked despite the fact you insulted him. You also couldn’t hide your own smile. It was apparent from anyone in that room, it was not a smile of victory; it was one synonymous with the feeling inside of your chest as it felt like your own heart would burst forth like light.

Your father had felt this feeling before, so it was not lost on him.

“You seem awfully happy to have your entire statement dismantled, Mr. Tully.” He said to Angus.

The boy looked up, still with a smile but one not as euphoric. “I mean, I wasn’t that serious about it.”

“Oh, and I didn’t think you were. It just astounds me how close you two became in a matter of a few days.” He said. “Wasn’t it only yesterday you both were at each other’s throats?”

You stepped in. “No, that was the first few days, actually. I mean, we were the only kids at Barton after that, so it’s probably best we figured how to deal with each other. I guess we both liked some of the same things too, so that made it easier.”

“Yeah.” Angus nodded.

Your father straightened his gaze between the two of you, but then smiled, getting up from the booth. “I have to use the facilities; don’t go anywhere.”

“No papa,” you teased. “we’re going to go do a line of cocaine with the homeless man a few blocks away.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe that you’re the bad influence on Mr. Tully and not the other way around.”

With that, he left the two of you by yourselves as he walked to the back of the diner. Once he was gone, you and Angus cackled to yourselves.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked, a hint of concern mixed in with delight.

“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugged, still chuckling. “Is that so bad?”

“I mean…I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” You admitted, smiling shyly.

Even though the rest of the diner was booming with Christmas music and leftover excitement from the holidays, it all fell silent between you two. The boy who was once radiated in the happiness you shared with him, now covered in a shroud of terror.

Well…in reality, he was alarmed, not terrified; yet, that is all you saw.

“Shit I-!” You realized what you had just said. “I didn’t mean-I mean, we don’t have to be together, I just meant that I’ve never had someone like me back when I’ve liked them, and even then, it didn’t happen very often-.”

“-Hey, hey.” He stopped you. “No, I’ve never had that happen either. I mean, I’ve been to all boys’ schools since I was fourteen. I think…yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Really?” You felt the weight from your shoulders loosen as your face brightened.

He nodded, glowing with you. “Really.”

You glanced up at the bathroom door, and when there was no sight of your father, you took his face into your hands, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t as intense as your previous ones, but not as quick as the one you gave him outside the bookstore.

He pulled away first, and before you could say anything about it, you saw the waitress leave from the corner of your eye. She had brought the drinks, including your milkshake and fries. Turning back towards the table, you immediately picked up a fry and dipped it into the milkshake.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.” Angus said with no emotion behind it.

“I know I’m funny, but this I would not joke about.” You talked as you ate. “Try it.”

“No.”

“I’ll kiss you if you do.” You took another fry.

“You’ll kiss me anyway.”

“I’ll kiss you like how the French do.”

“You already do that.”

 “I’ll do something different.”

His eyes grew, and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “‘Something different’?”

“Yeah.” You dipped a third fry. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

 “Not that you have to, but fine I’ll try it.” Angus reached for a fry, then dipped it into your milkshake and ate it.

Angus’ face went through more arrays of emotions in a short time since you met him. You grinned from ear to ear. “Well?”

“Fuck off.” He tried to hide his smile as he took another fry.

“I’m sorry, what?” You taunted.

“It’s not the best-.”

“-I’m sorry, what?!” You repeated louder, and you both were talking over each other. “It sounds like-!”

“You don’t have to be so-!”

“It sounds like you actually like it!”

“You’re so loud.”

You finished with laughter, and then kissed his cheek. You returned to your milkshake and fries as Angus talked about something funny that happened back in the fall. You can’t remember what he said to this day, because a familiar voice entered your ears as it entered the diner.

Angus kept talking to you, but it was in one ear and out the other as you tried your best not to show your discomfort at the man who laughed a little louder than the rest of the people in the diner. When you thought Angus wasn’t paying attention, you glanced over your shoulder at the entrance.

There he stood; a man around the same age as your father with a woman perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than him, holding a baby on her hip, and clutching her seven-year-old daughter’s hand.

Despite what Andy Williams was singing from the jukebox, this was not the most wonderful time of the year.

Angus tapped your shoulder, and you drew your eyes away to look at him.

“Hey, I hate this song, I’m gonna go change it.” He said. You got out of the booth for him to stand, and once he did you sat back down. Only for him to then say. “Okay, scoot over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Scoot over.”

“You didn’t even change the song.”

“I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.”

He was bullshitting you, but you scooted over anyway, and he sat beside you. “What’s going on?”

You scoffed. “You’re the one that got up and sat down again.”

“Is that guy Daniel?”

“Angus-.”

“-Tell me.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Both you and Angus looked and saw the man from the entrance stand before you with his hands in his pockets. You dropped your gaze.

“No, he’s not.”

You had no idea what you hated more that night: hearing a man you never met say your mother’s name, or hearing a man you knew too well say yours.

“If he is, just say the word and-.”

“-He’s not bothering me.” You hissed.

Angus slipped his hand into yours as you kept your eyes down, but he kept his trained on the man standing in front of him.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

You didn’t say anything, so Angus did.

“Could you go? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ignored him, still angling on you. “Look, sweetie, you don’t have to, and I get it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you came and meet them. They’re all right here now; Carol, Maria, and Frankie. He just turned one last week-.”

“-Can you just fuck off?” You finally looked at him.

He tilted his head and raised his brows before looking at Angus. “Young man, could you give her and I some privacy-?”

“-No.”

The man looked at you, scoffing. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do to make him so fucking head over heels for you? Was that the issue just now between you two? Under the table action?”

Angus stood. “Fuck you, what’s your problem?”

You pulled on his sleeve, hissing his name and kneeling on top of your seat to try and get him to sit back down. The man continued to taunt him.

“My problem is that you don’t know what’s going on boy, and you’re being a little prick about all of this.”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll…”

“‘You’ll-you’ll what?’” He looked over at you. “I can’t tell if you picked the bravest or the stupidest kid to fool around with, Eurydice.”

You were always a strange child growing up. Perhaps it was that there are times in your life you picture music whenever a certain emotion arose within you.

As you heard him say that name, a name that you heard last when your mother was dying in her bed, a name that was only for her to use and her alone…You heard Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.

You don’t even remember grabbing the stupid butter knife from your silverware, just raising it up above you and believing it would cause any harm. As Angus held you back, the man reached over you to grab your hair.

Chaos ensued for a moment in the diner as you cried out when he pulled the ribbon out of your hair, and both him and Angus engaged in a battle of expletives. Most of the diners held back and watched in shock, while only two of them came up. A man stood between him and Angus, and the wife of the yelling man pulled him away.

“Daniel, what the hell is going on?!” She hissed.

“Yes, Daniel,” all eyes fell onto Paul Hunham, who was behind Daniel. “what is the meaning of this?”

You shrunk back in the booth, Angus hugging you tightly against him as if to hide you from Daniel. Both of you stared at the scene before you.

“Paul…” Daniel nodded, standing taller and holding his wife’s hand.

Mr. Hunham nodded back. “Your Christmas went well I take it?”

“It was fine; yours?”

“Just peachy.” He gave a tight smile, looking around at everyone else. “Family matters everyone, I sincerely apologize.”

Hesitantly, the crowd went back to their own business; or they were at least good at pretending to as they eavesdropped. Mr. Hunham continued.

“Why’re you here exactly?”

“The same as you.” Daniel explained. “Dinner with my family.”

He hummed. “And you thought it wise to inform the child in the scenario but not me?”

“Now wait a minute-.”

“-I assume your wife also didn’t know about this or the letters and money you sent?”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s wife scowled. “Danny, what’s he talking about?”

He shook his head. “Hunham, you should just mind your own-.”

“-Well now you see, I can’t do that, because her mother trusted me to provide and care for her.”

It was only then did Angus Tully understand what exactly had been going on. As the adults fought, he looked down at you in his arms. It was as if it were the first time he had seen you, and it was the first time he noticed that he could not find a trace of Mr. Hunham.

The eyes he thought you had gotten from your mother stared up at him with dread, and when Angus looked back at the man seething with unspoken rage, he saw them there too.

“Look,” Paul sighed. “I don’t want to cause another scene, so let us handle this like men. You will not make contact with her again, and we can walk away.”

He took a heaving breath before responding. “Fine by me. Come on, Carrie.”

Daniel began to lead her away from your booth, but Paul stopped them. “I believe you have something of my daughter’s.”

His eyes trailed down to the ribbon in his hand. He let go of his wife to walk back to Paul who held his hand out. Instead of giving it to him, he turned to Angus, smiling. He handed it to him.

“Keep her on a short leash, boy. She’s got her mother’s mouth.”

With that, he and his wife and children left the South Street Diner. You only pulled away from Angus when he did from you. No tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but that didn’t mean they weren’t stinging your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay.

You took the ribbon from Angus only for it to hang loosely at your side. Paul softened his gaze as he began to put on his jacket.

“I think we should just settle on room service tonight.” He said gently. “I can get them to bag up the fries and let you take the milkshake glass?”

You could only nod, not wanting to look at either of the men with you. You all put on your coats in silence, and Angus, though not hugging you, hovered as Mr. Hunham spoke with the staff; both about not wanting to report the incident, and also on paying extra for you to take the glass.

It was so cold out, and everyone was so tired from not just the events of the night, but the entire day, that Paul splurged on a cab for the three of you back to the hotel.

Angus also didn’t feel shame in trying to hold you hand in front of your father; or…stepfather. You limply held his hand back, but you leaned against him as you sat in the cab, staring at the Boston Christmas lights as the city passed by you.

When the cab made it to the hotel, you led the way in a tired haze to the elevators. It wasn’t just the three of you in the elevator; there was a somewhat large family that piled in, all merry and jolly and reeking of chlorine from the pool they had just swum in.

It was as if God himself was rubbing salt into the wounds, tempting you to lick them.

When you made it onto your floor, you also led the way back to your connecting rooms. There was no ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Can we stay up just a little longer?’ to your companions; you simply opened your door and shut it in their faces.

Setting the milkshake down, you tossed off your jacket and pulled your shoes off. Collapsing on the bed, you looked down at the ribbon still in your hand…and you cried.

[ctimenefic]

don't like a gold rush

sometimes you watch a video of James Vowles calling Alex special and your mind goes blank and three weeks later you have 6k

everlasting thanks to @latecomersprivilege for cheerleading, proofreading, and encouraging my crimes

don't like a gold rush Rated Explicit Fandom F1 RPF Pairing Alexander Albon/George Russell 5,951 words In which Alex having a good boss for once drives George absolutely mad.

First part below:

James Vowles is the best thing that could have happened for Williams. Well, the best in 2023, second overall - second to signing Alex. George truly believes that, has said it often, loudly, to anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby with a microphone. Even as the spectre of getting caught in the Albon DRS train gets ever closer, even as the W14 lets him down at every turn, he’s still got a massive soft spot for his old team. He wants the best for them. He wants the best for Alex.

And James as a boss is everything Horner wasn’t, as far as George can tell. Even-tempered. Even-handed. Kind. George has been in the Mercedes orbit long enough to see that. James wasn’t the type to talk down to a fourteen-year-old touring a garage with eyes like saucers. Instead he offered a steadiness even Toto couldn’t match. His good opinion had been worth having, and George had fought to get it.

He likes James, for Christsakes.

So, it’s something of a surprise to find himself grinding his teeth as Alex gets second-beer tipsy and starts waxing poetic about what a difference he’s made to the team.

They’ve got a small table at the back of a footie pub in London, where not a single regular is under 60 and clearly no one gives two shits about Formula One. It’s not built for tall men; their knees jam up against each other. George is slightly too warm in his jumper and coat, prickles of heat across the back of his shoulders. And his molars ache as Alex keeps going on about bloody James Vowles.

“Some of it’s the car, obviously, and the calendar,” Alex is saying, too media-trained to not add context and caveats in any declaration, “but James is just- like, no offence to Jost, but- he gets it. It’s like we’re all going in the same direction. Points aren’t a fucking miracle anymore, it’s expected, but not in a bad way, you know?”

“Don’t rule out the driver,” George adds, because he’s pathetic, really, weak for the indulgent eyeroll and grin Alex throws him to hide the genuine pleased flush of a compliment. And, because, well. It can’t all be James.

He’s not blind to the fact Alex has dragged Williams higher than he ever managed. And yes, it’s a different car, a different set up, but Alex is fucking quick, and it’s about time someone else noticed.

“No, but really, it’s- Look, I’m not saying it’s perfect, I’m sure Logan has something to say about his contract renewal, but I’ve never had a boss who takes care of the team like he does. It’s nice,” Alex finishes, with that half-shrug he adopts to couch his opinions in nonchalance. George knows him too well to fall for it.

Something hot and slick and sour coats the inside of his chest cavity, roiling up from his belly. He necks the rest of his pint before it can escape over his tongue. “He takes care of you?” he manages, and it almost sounds normal, squeezed out of his throat like that, everything else trapped behind his teeth.

A glint comes into Alex’s eye. “I’m sure it’s not the full Toto Wolff experience-”

“Piss off.”

“-holidaying together, sharing a crossword, father-son fishing trips-”

“Piss off!”

“But, yeah. Logan more, obviously, he needs it more. But- you know after Silverstone, after you pointed out the shoulder thing, he had them look at the seat again? That kind of thing.”

Of course George remembers Silverstone. He’d joked about it, under the watchful eyes of the press and a Williams PR woman who knew him far too well, because Alex hated when George made a sincere fuss, but he could just about get away with taking the piss.

It’s good, he reminds himself, that James doesn’t want the car to shake his drivers to pieces. But that doesn’t stop the sudden blinding vision of James pressing a bandage against Alex’s skin.

George had done it, back in the summer, when Alex had tripped on their run and the jerk of the fall had reopened the scar from the seat. George had only had these stupid Superdrug plasters, all too small, so he’d had to line three up, carefully overlap them and smooth them down so they wouldn’t ruck up into a mess when Alex rolled his shoulders. Alex had said he was making too much of a fuss then as well, but he’d shivered as George ran a thumb around the edge of each plaster to check the seal.

It hadn’t been normal for George, obviously, having his best mate half-naked in his bathroom, the mirror too big for comfort, all of his face there to be seen as he touched Alex’s skin. But. But the thought of James doing the same makes George’s fingers tighten on his glass. And he knows, logically, that it didn’t happen; that Williams has a medic, that Alex has a trainer, that there’s half a dozen people on the team who take care of Alex. Who have that in their job descriptions.

He just- Christ. He wants it to be him.

“I’m glad, mate,” he lies. Swallows. Makes himself hold Alex’s gaze when he responds with his ducked-head smile. But he nudges the conversation on so he doesn’t have to keep lying, swaps the wildest rumours he can with Alex’s - Charles to Red Bull, Lewis to Ferrari, Fernando collecting a seat on every team like he’s filling out a Pokedex. The caustic burn lingers in the back of his throat, despite four pints and a packet of crisps. Read the rest on AO3

[ari-burr]

𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀

Scenario: “How would America, China, and Canada react to a young superpower wanting to fight them?”

America { Alfred F. Jones } - “Hahah!! You must joking kid! You don’t wanna fight me.”

To put it plainly, America won’t take you seriously and will probably shrug off your “small” threats regardless of if your a superpower or not. 

But he still knows better than to keep his eyes away from a potential enemy. [Besides world domination] His main concern is to make sure his citizens are happy and untouched; toiling away with their lives without the threat of war. 

You mouth off, then congratulations: your America’s new oil target. 

Picking a fight with him personally is one thing, but threatening his people? That’s something he’ll make sure you’ll regret. He ain’t much of a fan in beating down the newer countries, though someone has to teach them a lesson.

China { Yao Wang } - “Aiyah! You younger countries are so insistent for power-aru. You should just be focused on maintaining what you have!”

*Sigh* The younger nations are becoming such a pain. He already has to deal with America and Russia’s antics on a daily basis and now, a new one wants to challenge him to a fight.

Unlike America, China won’t be as willing to throw fists with you. Instead, his diplomatic side will show and speak out to you. Putting all those years of sweet talking emperors and empresses to use, to make you see how worthless it is to go out and ask for trouble towards other countries. 

However, if your still persistent in wanting a fight out of him he’ll humor you. Just don’t say he didn’t warn you. Either on the battlefield, or one on one, it’ll be next to impossible to outwit him. 

The nation has lived too long, seen too much, to not know the in’s and out’s of combat. Besides, it was a bad choice already to tempt China’s temper. 

Canada { Matthew Williams } - “I-I’m sorry, why do you want to fight me? Shouldn’t you ask America for this?”

Okay bro. Out of any country in the world—why do you want to physically quarrel with Canada? He’s like, the most peaceful nation you’re ever going to meet. That’s just inconsiderate. The poor man is already dealing with excessive loneliness and then the only time he does get noticed, is when someone wants to fight him?!

Not to say Canada is completely powerless, but still, he’d much rather have a good conversation with words instead of brawls. So please, don’t let your arrogance force this guy to fight you. Canada may not be as strong as his brother, but he fought in World War 2 for a reason. [He kicked a lot of ass during that time period]

Obviously that era of nation against nation is over for him now, so unless it’s purely in a matter of self-defense he’ll be reluctant to partaking in any sort of violence.

~ I actually wrote this scenario a long time ago, but after re-reading everything, I just realized how scary these guys would be if they were real lmao.

[yr-obedt-cicero]

What is your opinion of the Ron Chernow book on Hamilton? I'm reading it now and it's informative but I don't know how I feel about it yet and we're already almost at Hamilton's wedding. Thoughts?

Oh boy, that book...

Honestly, I hate it but I also quite appreciate it. It's one of the only Hamilton biographies that goes so in-depth about Hamilton's life, and almost covers everything. Like, it's the size of a Bible for a reason and I really did enjoy the background checks on all the figures that were brought up (Like especially Faucette, or Maria). But also it's entirely bias, and filled with inaccuracies. I haven't read the book in a year, and no longer have it in my possession but here are a few things I remember that I hated about it;

Rambling — oh God, does Chernow have a tendency to go on and on and on. He often repeats the same thing several times throughout the book, especially in regards to praising figures in the book, but I'll talk about that and his glorification a bit later. I completely understand the habit to ramble on, but there is the opportunity to edit over your work. I swear after Hamilton did anything, Chernow would copy and paste the same sentence about how “hAMilTOn WAs JUst sUch aN InsPiRaTiOn wIth hIS iRrepresSiBLe pAsSiON aS An ImMiGrANt” I get it. I know. I would go on about how rising from your poor status wasn't anything new or unheard of, but I'll spare that for today.

Glorification — Chernow has a terrible case of glorifying the historical figures mentioned in the book, mainly Hamilton - as he is the protagonist, I suppose - but also Washington. He paints everyone else that is featured as these evil, big, bad villains that are just out to ruin poor, innocent Hamilton's life. And that if Hamilton did anything wrong; it was obviously all their faults and they somehow influenced him into this terrible decision. Chernow glosses over so many times Hamilton ruined other's lives, and throughout it portrays him as this inspiring hero.

Misogyny — you'll notice pretty quickly on; Chernow portrays all the women in the book as pathetic, (Or evil if they ever wronged Hamilton). He does a great injustice to Maria Reynolds, and makes out the affair to be all her and her husband's malicious influence. Because poor Hammy Ham, and not the oppressed woman getting abused by her husband, right? He even has the audacity to frame Elizabeth as a villain throughput a lot of it as well, claiming she wasn't doing her “wifely duties” and drove him to commit the affair (Jesus Christ). It's worse than the portrayal of these women in the musical.

Homophobia — Chernow quite often dismisses the homoerotic undertones throughout Hamilton's life. I'm not saying he has to do an essay on the plausablity of Troup and Hamilton having something more than friendship, but man, you could at least say anything but “lol but they were very no homo”. But the case that pisses me off the most is the complete dismissive attitude towards Laurens's and Hamilton's relationship. Chernow only scaps the surface of their relationship by quoting the April 1779 letter, and then shrugs it off and says that men just had those flowery - platonic apparently - sext letters during those days. Oh, but don't worry, he can dedicate half a chapter in regards to how true the debunked Angelica+Hamilton love affair was.

Inaccuracies — I don't know what I was expecting from a guy who has a very questionable education, but Chernow makes many inaccuracies throughout the book. I can't name them all off the top of my head but; he claims Jefferson said nothing on Hamilton's death when he did, he got Hamilton's children baptism dates wrong, made the same stupid mistake of calling William's portrait as actually Philip's, and misinterpretades many letters. If you want more on the subject, @runawayforthesummer literally has a tag called “Chernow was wrong”. And speaking of villianizing, I urge you to read about Burr outside of Chernow because that is the worst portrayal you'll read him as. Chernow made up this whole betrayal backstory for Burr and Hamilton, when they were actually never friends, or anything beyond acquaintances or political rivals.

Chernow isn't a historian — he's a journalist and a biographer. But biographer doesn't necessarily mean he has taken any studying in regards to being a historian. I'm not staying if you didn't go to college for a four year institution, that you're immediately unqualified to write a biography. But. You should take some initiative to get some education in that matter. Because we have things like this where Chernow makes glaring mistakes.

Phew, okay, that's a rundown of everything I found wrong with it. I'm sure I'm missing other things, but these were the major issues in my opinion. I mean, if you've gotten that far in the book, might as well finish it. Just remember to do your own research, and fact check before you take someone else's claim on something. Once again, Chernow's biography has some good aspects, like how detailed it is. Just remember his major flaws with it too.

[uncpanda]

Twilight Zone” Part 2

AN: Another one shot in the Twilight Zone Universe. Not sure if I’ll come back to this universe or not but I sure do love it. 

Pairing: Gibbs x fem!reader

Original Story

“I just . . . I don’t see why I need to invite everyone over.” 

You roll your eyes as you continue preparing food. “It’s a Halloween party Jethro. Lord knows a bunch of my friends are coming, you should have some of yours too.” 

He leans against the counter, his arms crossed against his chest, “I get along great with your friends.” 

You laugh at that. “No. Try again. You say hello. Stick around for about twenty minutes and engage in small talk where you let out a few grunts, and then you go find the kids and spend most of the night with them.” 

He leans over, “Yeah. . . well I like our kids.” 

“This year, it’s your people. Abbey helped me create the guest list. Apparently, you’ve even managed to make friends outside of NCIS.” 

His head whips towards you, “Excuse me?” 

“Agent Fornell. Lieutenant Colonel Mann. And Jenny had quite a few other people from within NCIS to invite.” 

He groans, “I hate that you and Jenny have become friends.” 

You snort, “No you don’t.” 

The simple fact was, you and Jenny had clicked. After several moments of shocked silence after your first meeting she had walked over to you and started a conversation. There had been no talk about Jethro, just random things. The two of you had started doing a girls' night after which Ziva and Abbey had started to join in. 

Other than that, your interactions with NCIS were still next to non-existent. And you had been sick of not being involved in such a major part of Jethro’s life, so this year you had dedicated your annual Halloween party to his friends. 

“All I’m saying is Daisy is six and Grayson is eight. We don’t have many trick or treating nights left with them. I think we have two until Grayson wants to go off with just his friends.” 

“Which you won’t allow because of sick twisted people.”

He shrugs, “Aaron and Mike are all ready to go into stealth mode. And if I get really desperate I’ll send Ziva.” 

“Overprotective dad, party of one.” 

“And this is supposed to be Jamie’s last year trick or treating and he doesn’t even want to go.” 

Ahhh. That explains it. Jethro has never been very good with the kids growing up. When Aaron had done the same thing, he had pouted for two days straight. And the day Aaron had decided to go to George Washington University instead of UVA or William and Mary, Jethro had taken him out to buy new baseball supplies.

You wash your hands and then go to him. You wrap him in a hug and he hugs back. “Kids grow up Jehtro. It’s part of life.” 

“We should have had one more.” He grumbles and you laugh. 

“Well. You still have me.” 

He smiles at that and looks down at you, “I’ll always have you? Right?” 

“Damn straight marine.” 

He smiles and swoops down to kiss you. When you pull away you follow up with one more kiss and ask, “Can you handle the dishes? I want to make sure Daisy and Grayson are ready to go.” 

“I’ve got them. Go ahead.” 

You head up the stairs to see what’s going on. Aaron and Mike are waiting in the hallway and you pause at the sight of them. They haven’t dressed up in years, and the sight of them right now has your lips twitching. They’ve obviously raided Jethro’s closet for old NCIS and NIS clothes. They have the windbreakers on, along with the ball caps. Underneath they’re in jeans and button down shirts. 

You lean against the wall, “Are you trying to give your dad a stroke?” 

Aaron smiles, “Daisy asked us to dress up.” 

Ahh. That explained it. None of the men in your family were able to tell that little girl no. “I see. What about Jamie, Gray, and the princess herself?” 

Aaron shrugs, “Jamie was a bit more resistant until I asked him to do this for her.”

You lean against the railing and wait. Jamie is the first one to come out. He has on his “nice clothes”; slacks and a button down. Along with an NCIS jacket and hat that are much too big for him to wear. 

You stifle a laugh. Jamie was eager to grow up and be just like his big brothers. “How do I look?” 

“Very official.” 

He beams and goes to lean against the wall, copying Aaron’s stance. You wait several more minutes before going to knock on Grayson’s door. You had bought his costume this year, and you knew what waited on the other side of the door. When he steps out dressed as an over muscled Batman he does his best to look menacing. There’s a quick, “I’m Batman.” And some coughing before you direct him to the wall. 

Finally you go to Daisy’s room. You knock once and the door flies open. You smile at the sight of her. She’s beaming. In fact, she’s been beaming since she found this costume. She’s nearly vibrating now that she has it on. You look back at the boys who are all smiles. And before you can say anything she yells out, “I need to show daddy!” And runs down the stairs. 

The boys quickly follow, leaving you behind. You scowl. You had created each of those kids from scratch, had gone through labor to breathe them into the world, and they were excited to show Jethro their costumes? Figures. 

You take the stairs quickly, and arrive downstairs to find Daisy hugging Jethro’s leg while he straightens your boys' NCIS uniforms. You had expected some sort of dismissal. He had never wanted the boys to think of NCIS as the family business, and you doubted they would. But you can also see a spark in his eye. “If you’re going to wear the stuff, wear it right boys.” He looks up at you and smiles, “This is good brand awareness.” You roll your eyes, “And did you see? We have a giraffe in the house? I told you we could have fit that eight food Christmas tree.” Daisy giggles. “And we ap[arently know Batman. The next time we’re stuck on a case, I can call in extra help.” Grayson beams. And you smile. 

Daisy tugs on Jethro’s sleeve, “What are you going as daddy?” 

He pauses for a second, before he straightens, “The boss.” 

He makes a show out of putting his NCIS cap and wind breaker back on. He points at your three oldest boys, “I’m boss tonight. Got it?” 

The three of them answer together, “Got it boss.” 

You can’t hold back the laughter this time. You’re saved from having to say anything by the doorbell ringing. You frown. Trick or treating isn’t due to start for another half and a half. “Jethro, can you get the candy?” 

“On it.”

You head to the door, and instead of kids you find, “Tony.” 

The young man smiles and moves in for a hug. “Mrs. Gibbs!”

You smile and pat his back, before you hear Jethro yell, “Dinozzo! Get off my wife!” 

He withdraws immediately, “Sorry boss!” 

A scowling Jethro comes up behind you, “You’re early.” 

“Am I?” 

He is, and he knows it too. His eyes focus on Jethro’s NCIS gear, “We got a case boss?” 

“No. I’ve got a new team.” He jerks his head to the kids. 

They all call out greetings and Tony smiles, “Cool. Mini Gibbs!” He slips inside. Over the next half hour more and more people arrive early. You suppose the draw of seeing into the personal life of Leeroy Jethro Gibbs is too hard to resist. 

Ziva is the next to arrive. She’s only wearing a witches hat, but it’s enough. McGee follows dressed as Spock. And then there’s Abby, she arrives dressed as Marilyn Monroe. She makes a huge deal about the kids’ costumes. Jenny is up next. She isn't in a costume, but she smiles at the sight of the kids, “I see I have some new agents.” 

“Daisy asked them to dress up, and none of them know the word no when it comes to her.” 

“Ahh. Well, I’m going to go introduce myself as their director and all.” 

You laugh and send her on her way. Ducky and Jimmy come next. Ducky is dressed as a train conductor, and Jimmy is in plain clothes. You watch in amusement as your husbands’ people interact with your family. It’s a nice sight. And despite his grumbling you can tell Jethro is happy to have them here, even if no one else can tell. 

“Okay. Time for me to take these guys trick or treating.” 

And there’s his escape. Abbey jumps up and down, “Can I come? Please!” 

Daisy joins, “Yeah daddy, can Abby and Ziva come too?” 

Daisy has been positioned in between the two women all night, and in that time she’s managed to capture their hands and not let go. There’s something soft in Ziva’s eyes as she watched Daisy. She has a soft spot for your daughter. 

“Fine by me.” 

Jethro stops by you on the way out, and swoops down to peck your lips, “I will be back.” 

“I know. You’re a bit like a boomerang like that.” 

He smiles, and this time when he kisses you, he cups your face. When he pulls back he whispers, “Love you.” Against your lips.

You smile as he follows the kids out. You turn back around to find a stunned room of people looking at you. You close the door, “He’s not special agent Gibbs all the time, you know.” 

Tony winces, “Until about six months ago, I was pretty sure Gibbs was a robot who ran on coffee.” 

  There seems to be some sort of agreement amongst his friends. You go back into the living room right as the doorbell rings. “Can someone get that?” 

McGee volunteers, “I’ve got it Mrs. Gibbs.” 

You listen as you search for what you’re looking for. Apparently Agent Fornell and Agent Mann have arrived. You smile as Fornell asks, “So, is she real or a blow up doll?” 

You come back in with what you needed, “I’m very real, I assure you Agent Fornell.” 

The balding man’s eyes go wide, “Dear Lord. I thought you were pulling my leg Jen.” 

“She wasn’t.” You settle on the couch, and place a photo album on the coffee table. “This might help you with separating the man Jethro is at work with the man he really is.” 

It’s Ducky who reaches forward and opens it. The first picture is of you and Jethro at a carnival. It had been your third date. With cameras not as readily available back then, you didn’t have as many photos of you and Jethro together. There are, however, plenty of your wedding, of him with the kids as newborns, and him in uniform. There are more and more of the two of you together as you had begun owning cameras. In each of the photos Jethro is smiling and happy. 

You leave them to continue looking through it as you put out the food. An hour later Jethro and the kids are back. You listen as Fornell and Mann rib your husband for some of the silly photos they had seen. Ziva and Abby make a mad dash for the photo album. You listen as Jethro tries to defend certain photos and as the kids add in their own two cents. 

You’re in the middle of getting out even more food, because agents put it away, when Jethro’s arms circle your waist, and he kisses the back of your head. “I love you, have I told you that recently?” 

“Every single day since we got married.” You turn in his arms and kiss him, “I love you something fierce marine.” 

Jethro just smiles, “You realize this mean they’re going to be over for every major holiday, right? They don’t know the meaning of personal space.” 

“Just call them what they are Jethro: Family.” 

[rowyn-writes]

Mending A Broken Heart (Jared x Reader)

Warnings: SMUT, breeding kink, unprotected sex, (wrap it before you tap it, kids,) oral sex, female receiving, slight praise kink, angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of non-con, mentions of cheating, reader has PCOS, fluff, strong language.

Pairings: Jared x Reader

Characters: Jared, Jensen, Danneel, JJ Ackles, Misha (mentioned only)

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You get a call from you older sister, Danneel, saying that she is in labor. When you arrive, your first niece is being born. You call your soon to be husband to inform him of JJ's birth, only to have a woman answer his phone.

You were on a mission.

You walked with purpose through the hallways of the hospital, not even stopping when a nurse asked if you needed help. You were Y/N Graul. You didn't need help to find your sisters freaking room.

"Ackles." You said, approaching two men. "Padalecki. How's my sister?" Just as the words left your mouth, you heard an ear piercing scream. "That answers that question." You pushed past them and into Danneel's delivery room.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here!" The doctor ordered.

"She's my sister." Danneel waved her off. "She can be here." The mother to be let out another groan of pain. You grabbed her hand, letting Danneel use it to relieve some of her pain. You winced slightly. Your sister had a strong grip.

You didn't understand how women could all over the world could go through this pain. Especially those without epidurals. 

"I want Jensen!" She cried.

You nodded, quickly making your way out into the hall. "Ackles! Get your ass in here!" Jensen gave Jared a scared look before following you inside.

"I'm here, sweetheart." He assured her as he took your place. You hid your smile at brother-in-law's kindness. You and Jensen never got along, mostly because you were so alike. You were both hard headed, but you had a big heart. You'd never say, but you secretly liked him.

"C'mon, Dannie," You encouraged, coming on the other side of her. "You've got this. Push!"

Danneel yelled once more, gripping both of your hands and she tried to push. "No! No, no, no. I can't do this!" She whined.

"You can and you will!" You demanded. "You are Danneel Ackles, you are a badass, powerful woman and you will be a great mother! All you have to do is push!"

"Easier said that done!" Danneel barked, her  auburn hair sticking to her forehead with sweat.

"We're almost there, Mrs. Ackles! One more push!" And with one last scream, and one last push, Danneel fell back on the bed, panting heavily. There was a small cry that pierced through the room, which caused the three adults to look over at the doctor.

"Congratulations," She smiled softly. "You just gave birth to a healthy baby girl."

Danneel and Jensen shared wide smiles as their newborn baby girl was set into their arms. "She's beautiful." Jensen whispered. "She has your eyes."

"She has your nose." Danneel looked over at you, her eyes filled with joy. "Y/N, can you give us a minute?"

"Of course, Dannie." You kissed her forehead. "I'm so happy for you."

You exited the room, only to find Jared pacing back and forth. "How are they? Danneel stopped screaming. Is she okay?" He asked, worry written across his face.

"They're okay. Better than okay, actually. Danneel just became a mother to a beautiful baby girl." You beamed proudly.

Jared let out a relieved laugh as he surged forward to hug you. You stood stiffly in his hold, unsure of what to do. You weren't used to physical affection, as your boyfriend rarely held you anymore. The last time you had been this close to Jared was at Jensen and Danneel's wedding when you both walked down the aisle together.

You slowly wrapped your arms around him, patting his back awkwardly. "Sorry," He apologized sheepishly. "I'm a hugger."

"So I've noticed." You said, stepping away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some exciting news to share with my family."

You found an empty hallway and began to call every family member you could think of. Gino was first, obviously. You knew how excited he was when he found out Danneel was pregnant. Your parents were next, and then your cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.

You cringed as you looked at the last name on your contacts. Will.

You hadn't been on very good terms as of late. The two of you had been fighting constantly, especially after you found out Danneel was pregnant. You were beyond happy for her and Jensen; they were finally starting the family they had always dreamed about.

Fuck it. You might as well get it over with. It rang three times before it was finally answered. "Hello?" An unfamiliar female voice said.

"Uh, who is this?" You questioned, starting to get defensive. It was four o'clock in the morning in Vermont.

"Lacy," She answered simply.

"And what are you doing with my fiance's phone, Lacy?"

"Who is it, babe?" You heard Will in the background.

"It's your fiance, William. The one that I didn't know you had!" Lacy screamed. "You asshole! I can't believe you cheated! And I can't believe you dragged me into it! We're done!" You felt your throat close up, your eyes began to well up with tears.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. You kept repeating to yourself. This was the happiest day of Jensen and Danneel's life, you couldn't bring them down.

"Y/N, baby, this really isn't what it sounds like." Will claimed after Lacy threw his phone at him. 

"No, Will, I think it's exactly what it sounds like." You whispered harshly. "You cheated. After three years, you cheated on me."

"Well you didn't give me much of a choice, did you?" He growled.

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't let me touch you in almost eight months. What else was I supposed to do? I have needs, Y/N."

"You know why we haven't done anything!" You hissed, tears running down your face. "You know exactly why!"

"Can't you just get over it! God, Y/N, we could always try again!" He yelled.

"Get over it? Get over it?! I lost my baby and you just want me to get over it! I can't just forget about it, Will. I should be having  my baby - our baby - in five weeks. July ninth."

"You know what I mean, Y/N. Of course I don't want you to forget about the baby, but we could always try again! It wasn't the end of the world!"

"Yes, it was, Will! You know how hard it is for me to get pregnant ever since I was diagnosed with PCOS-"

"It always comes back to that! 'Sorry, I can't have sex with you today because I feel bloated,' or 'Sorry I'm acting so down, my depression is bad today.' You use PCOS as an excuse to everything!"

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to calm yourself. "It was never going to work, was it?" You said quietly. "We both want kids, but I can't give you that. I can't give you a lot of things, apparently. When I come back, I want you out of my house. I'm going to be staying with Danneel and Jensen for a while. They're going to need some help with the new baby. It's a girl, just in case you were wondering." You hung up the phone, taking in a shaky breath.

"Son of a bitch!" You wailed as you threw your phone against the wall. You slowly slid to the floor, putting your head in your hands. You tried to quiet your sobs by biting your lip, which only caused your mouth to be filled with a metallic liquid.

Get it together, Y/N. You wiped the tears off your face, trying to calm yourself down. You couldn't believe this was happening. Your sister, your best friend, just gave birth to a healthy daughter. You should be celebrating, not crying over your crappy fiance. Ex fiance. 

You picked yourself off the floor, grabbing your phone as you did so. Of course it was shattered. You quickly went to the bathroom, your puffy face startling you. You splashed cold water on your face, which got rid of it for the most part.

You made your way back to Danneel's room, where the atmosphere was happy and joyful. Something that made your mood lighten just a fraction. "Hey Mama! How are you?"

"Doped up on pain meds," She grinned. "Having a baby really hurts. I knew it would hurt, I mean, I've seen the videos, but damn, that was awful." You laughed as you brushed her hair back.

"What's her name?"

"Justice Jay Ackles." Jensen answered, bringing your niece forward. "JJ for short. Do you want to hold her?"

You nodded eagerly as JJ was set into your arms. She began to fuss a little, reaching out for her father. "Shh, shh." You cooed. "It's okay, sweet JJ. I'm your Auntie Y/N/N. You'll get to meet the others soon enough. They're going to love you, just like your mommy and daddy love you. You are going to have a whole village looking after you, did you know that? Yeah, you have me, your uncle Gino, that's mommy's brother. Then you have your uncle Josh and Aunt Mack, that's your daddy's siblings. Then of course you have Uncle Jared and Misha. Those are daddy's best friends."

Jared and Jensen smiled at you. You were already so in love with JJ. "Danneel's knocked out." Jensen whispered. "The nurse wants to take JJ up to the nursery while she sleeps." You nodded as you handed over the baby. "Alright, I'm gonna go get us some food. You guys want anything?"

"No, I'm good." You shook your head.

"Same." Jared agreed.

And with that, Jensen left you and Jared alone with a sleeping Danneel. You grabbed your phone out of your back pocket and tried to turn it on. Just your luck, the screen stayed black. That's what you get for throwing your phone at the wall.

"What in the hell happened to your phone, Y/N?" Jared questioned.

"It fell out of my pocket." You lied. "I guess I'll have to buy and new one."

"Damn, that sucks." He frowned. You gave a small shrug, not saying much of anything. "Are you okay, Y/N? You don't seem like yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, normally you like to take jabs at me and Jensen. Hell, the only one you really like is Misha. Plus, ever since you came back in the room, you've been frowning and your eyes are still puffy from where I know you've been crying." You felt your heart sink to your stomach. "I know you don't like me very much, or Jensen, for that matter, but we do care. What's wrong?"

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to sort out your words. "I can't say it here. Follow me."

You grabbed Jared by the hand and led him to where the nursery is. You needed something happy to cheer you up.

"Let me start this by saying that I don't hate you or Jensen." You didn't take your eyes off the adorable babies, but your hand was still brushing up against his. "I have known you both for a while now, and I care about you guys. Making jabs and snarky comments is how I show that I care." You could see Jared smiling out of the corner of your eye.

"I called Will this morning to tell him that Danneel had the baby." You saw Jared's smile fade slightly. "A woman answered his phone, and usually I wouldn't think anything of it. I would make an excuse that it's his secretary or assistant, but it was four a.m in Vermont when I called. Her name was Lacy." Your voice cracked.  "And it's my fault!"

"Y/N, it's not your fault-"

"But it is, Jare," You whispered. "It is. I pushed him away for months. Do you know how long it's been? Eight months. It's been eight months, Jared. And Will 'has needs.'"

"That's the dumbest excuse ever." He mumbled.

"This next part. . . I haven't told anyone but Will. Not Danneel, not Gino, not my parents, anyone. So you have to promise not to tell anyone. I'll tell my family once I'm ready, but for now, they don't need to know."

Jared's frown deepened. "I won't say anything, Y/N, I promise. Are you okay?"

"No," You shook your head. "I haven't been okay for a while now." You took a deep breath before continuing. "Last year I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome – PCOS for short."

"Yeah, I've heard of it." Jared said softly, his eyes filled with pity.

"Will and I had been trying so hard for a baby. And when we found out I had PCOS, we stopped. And I was heartbroken. I've wanted to start a family for so long, and to get that news hurt me. And it hurt Will." You felt your hands start to shake.

"One night after I had one too many drinks, I passed out on the couch, and I woke up the next morning in my bed with all my clothes off and Will lying in my bed beside me. I don't know what happened that night, but I know I didn't want it. And four weeks later I found out I was pregnant." Jared's jaw clenched and his eyes held something malicious.

"I didn't care how it happened. I know I should have, but I was just so excited to have a baby. To be a mother. And then when I went to my OBGYN, she told me I had. . . I had a miscarriage."

"Oh, Y/N," Jared said sadly, resting his hand on your shoulder.

"I lost my baby. And I don't know what to do with myself, Jare." You cried. "W-what am I supposed to do?"

You were shaking uncontrollably now, unable to calm down. "That m-might have been my only chance!" Jared swallowed hard as he brought you in for a hug. "I want my baby!" You wailed.

"I know," He whispered as he gripped you tight. "I know, honey. I am so sorry. This is so unfair to you. You deserve so much better than this."

"What if it was my last chance?" You sniffed.

"It wasn't," He assured you as he rocked you back and forth. "There are fertilization treatments, surrogacy, adoption. . . You'll be a mother one day, Y/N, and you'll be the best mother a child could ever ask for."

"Really?" You asked in a small voice, looking up at the tall man. He smiled as he brushed back a piece of your hair and wiped away your tears.

"Really."

You felt your heart beating out of your chest and your breaths quickening. "Jared,"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He didn't have to be told twice as he leaned down to kiss your lips. He cupped your face with both of his hands, bringing you closer to him. "Mm," He moaned, pulling away. "Not in front of the babies. They're too young to be scarred this way." You laughed as he dragged you away to a bathroom, making sure no one was in there before locking the door.

Jared grabbed you by the waist and gently pushed you against the wall. He wasted no time as he pressed his lips against yours once more. His tongue slid across your lower lip, asking for permission to enter, which you happily granted.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer. Jared put his hand on the back of your thigh, encouraging you to jump. You got the memo as you lifted yourself up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He moved and set you down on the counter.

"Do you want to keep going?" Jared asked, breathless.

"Yes," You nodded, your face flushed. "Please, Jare." He groaned at the nickname.

"I love it when you call me that." He said as he ran kisses down your jaw and to your neck.

SMUT UNDER THE CUT

"And I. . . Love it when. . . You kiss my neck like that." You panted as you began to unbutton Jared's shirt. You ran your hands across his abs and looped your fingers around his belt buckle.

"You are far too overdressed." Jared complained as he tugged at the hem of your shirt.

"Why don't you fix that for me?" You smirked. There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he pulled your shirt off your body.

You covered your stomach as you suddenly felt shy when Jared's eyes raked over your body. He frowned as he pulled your arms away. "Why are you hiding from me?"

"I- I dunno. It's just. . . All the girls you've been with in the past like Gen and Sandra are so beautiful and I look nothing like them -"

"Let me stop you right there," Jared said sternly. "You are gorgeous and incredibly sexy. Don't you dare compare yourself to them, because they could never be as beautiful as you. Don't let any asshole tell you otherwise. Do you understand?" You nodded slowly, fighting off the smile that crept onto your face. "Good, now let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"

Jared pulled down your jeans and tossed them aside, along with your panties. He looked at you like he hadn't eaten in days and you were a four course meal.

He began to trail kisses up your thighs, getting so close to where you wanted him to be only for him to pull away. "Quite being such a tease!" You growled.

Jared have you a smirk. "Yes ma'am." And with that he pulled you forward slightly so you were sitting on the edge of the counter. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before a wave of euphoria hit as you felt Jared's tongue on your clit.

"Oh-" You moaned, only for Jared to cover your mouth with his hand.

"Shh, you wouldn't want anyone to hear, would you?" He questioned. You shook your head, desperate for him to return to where he was. "Be a good girl for me and stay quiet." His kissed you on the mouth before going back to eating you out. You bit your lip in attempts to silence your moans.

"Fuck," You whispered as you leaned your head back. Jared began to tease your hole with his tongue, making you gasp and grab onto his long locks.

You felt warmth spread through your stomach and a familiar coil began to tighten. "Oh, god, Jare, please keep going!" You encouraged him. "I'm so close."

At those words, Jared pulled away abruptly, making you want to cry out. "Sorry babygirl, you can only come when I say you can."

You frowned at his words. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you enjoy it." He winked. Jared began to unbuckle his belt; you could see his growing erection through his jeans. "I don't have a condom." He said defeated. "Are you clean?"

You nodded. "What about you?"

"Yeah, I'm all good." He assured you.

"Then we should be fine, it's not like I can get pregnant anyways."

"You never know." Jared said as he nipped at your neck. As he left love bites on your neck, you began to pull down his jeans, revealing his hardon. You pushed yourself off the counter and got on your knees, only for Jared to pull you back up.

"Not this time, kitten. This is about you, not me."

"But I want to make you feel good." You protested.

"Next time, baby." You smiled at the thought of a next time. He quickly turned you around so you were bent over the counter. "You're so wet." He growled as he grinded against you. "All this for me?"

"Yes, Jare. Only for you." You panted, desperate for his cock.

"Good," He murmured against your neck. "I've been waiting a while for this to happen, there is no way I'm letting it go to waste. Do you still want this?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were still comfortable with it.

"If you stopped now I might have to kill you." Jared slowly pushed into you, as he didn't want to hurt you. You gasped in surprise; you had never been with someone as big as him. He gave you time to adjust to his size. "Move." You pleaded.

Jared chuckled as he slowly began to thrust into you. He grunted at the feeling of your warmth. "Fuck, Y/N." He moaned. "You're so fucking tight."

He began to pick up speed, which earned a moan from you. Jared put his hand over your mouth to silence your sounds, but you could still hear you skin slapping together.

"Oh, fuck." He growled. "I'm gonna cum. Gonna fill you with my seed, make you all round. God, you'd look so fucking sexy carrying my baby." Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his words, causing your walls to clench around his dick. "Would you like that, huh? Being so full of my cum that it runs down you legs."

"Oh, fuck yes." You nodded. "Please, Jared, fill me with your cum. Make me carry your child." You begged.

Jared gripped your hips tightly, (definitely leaving bruises) as he rammed into you. You struggled to keep quiet, as all you wanted to do was scream from pleasure. "You're going to look so good filled with my cum." He purred.

"Let me cum with you." You whined, the coil in your stomach was ready to snap.

"I'm so close." He grunted, sweat dotting his brow. "Cum with me, babygirl. Cum." He demanded.

You shuttered as your coil finally snapped and you rode out your orgasm on Jared's dick. He followed soon after you, blowing his load into your womb.

"Holy shit," You muttered. "That was so fucking hot."

"You're telling me." Jared said as he slowly pulled out, making you feel empty. You began to clean yourself up and put your clothes back on.

You both looked a mess; swollen lips, messy hair and to top it all of, hickeys scattered your neck. You reached up on your tip toes to flatten Jared's hair. "At least our hair covers the bruises." You grinned.

"So, what happens next?" Jared questioned.

"I guess that's up to you." You shrugged. "We can either go on a date and see how this plays out, or we can forget this ever happened."

"I don't want to forget." He shook his head. "I don't think I could forget."

"Good," You smiled. "I was hoping you would say that." Jared grinned as he leaned down to kiss you once more.

"I have a really good feeling about this."

[damiano-mylove]

To Kiss is To Love

Pairing: Vic De Angelis x GN!reader

Wc: 1k

Cw(s): Negative self talk in the beginning, stretch marks, lil bit of self hatred, and an atrocious amount of swearing, tell me if it sucks

Summary: Reader is extremely self-conscious about their stretch marks, so Vic takes action

Masterlist

They were on parts of your body that you arguably hated the most. They gave unflattering detail to places that didn't need detail. Your inner thighs, your outer thighs, you stomach, your chest. There were even stupid fucking stretch marks on your back! Like a teenager who just hit a growth spurt! God, it was embarrassing, and it made you hate your body only that much more.

Now, here she was, the vision of your life, the girl you wanted to marry, tracing her fingers over those dark fucking marks that you detested so fully and truly.

You shouldn't have taken your shirt off, but it was just so fucking hot in this fucking flat, that you had virtually no other option. It was take your clothes off or sit in the freezer. It was a decision of embarrassment and taking your shirt off was the victor.

"Why do you keep doing that?" You finally asked on an advert break. Vic looked at you through furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes darted to her fingers on your stomach. "Tracing my stretch marks."

"I dunno, they're nice."

Her response had you scoffing. Nice? Fuck, she really must've wanted you to love her if she could say that about one of your biggest insecurities. You could barely believe that she said that out loud. Why would she say something she obviously didn't mean?

Well, Vic doesn't say things she doesn't mean.

"What do you mean 'eugh'?" Vic immediately asked, sitting up now. You shrugged.

"They're ugly as fuck, not nice," you rebutted. Vic's jaw clenched a bit and you could physically feel the room getting a bit warmer.

"So you're saying my stretch marks are ugly too?"

Aw fuck, you fumbled the bag with this one. You should've just shut up and taken the fucking compliment. Did you? No. Instead, you make Victoria feel like you don't like something about her. The one girl in the world who has shown you time and time again how much she loves you, how much she'd do for you, just how limitless her love spanned for you.

"No, no, yours aren't ugly," you quickly answered. Vic raised her eyebrow. "Mine are. Yours only add to your amazing good looks."

Vic stood up from the couch, and knelt in front of you. You couldn't possibly look away without making it seem like you weren't trying to be an asshole. "They're not ugly. All they mean is you either were big and got small, or you were small and got big. Nothing wrong with either of those, Y/n."

You couldn't help but smile. "Did you just quote Katt Williams to me to make me feel better?"

"Did it work?" Vic asked, eyes dancing with light. You nodded a bit, which had your girlfriend a smiling mess. Without warning, she stood up and took your hand, hoisting you from the couch.

Wordlessly, Vic guided you to the bathroom and sat you down on the edge of the peach coloured tub. Vic rummaged around in her cabinet of potions and serums, until she came out with a tall, clear bottle. Within the bottle, was some amount of orange-pink oil. The words Bio-Oil were written in big white font on the front of the bottle. Vic handed it to you to inspect.

"It reduces my stretch marks," she told you. You handed the bottle back to her. Vic grinned, "Do you want me to put some on you?"

Heat poisoned your blood, not not from the heat wave. This time, the heat was from embarrassment, from love, form the blood rushing to the tips of your ears like a kid in year 5 who has a crush.

"Y-yeah, actually. That sounds...nice." Suddenly, that word didn't feel like lead on your tongue. It felt as it normally should've. Vic smiled so graciously as she unscrewed the white cap of the bottle.

In front of you, once again, Vic knelt down. Before she poured any oil on her hand, she planted a soft and smooth kiss to one of your dozens of stretch marks. It made a certain amount of nerves explode in your stomach and even more heat rush to your face. Knowing what she was doing to you only egged Vic on further. She kissed another and another. Then on one, she licked it and blew cool air against it, making jitters and tingles erupt everywhere on your body.

Before any protests came from you, Vic began with spreading the oil against your skin, making you flinch at the temperature. It was a ridiculously cool substance, that smelt like a mix of cooking oil and lavender essential oil.

Vic left no mark untouched. They shone in the harsh bathroom light, slick with the nice smelling oil and with Vic's fingers splayed upon you. Your heart beat like its never beat before and you felt as if you'd just eaten a full meal. You were fucking wrong. You were so totally wrong about Vic, about your stretch marks.

"Okay, now don't wipe it off, but it'll be drying for a minute or ten," Vic laughed as she capped the bottle.

No time wasted, you stood up and pulled Vic in by the waist, with tears brimming your eyes. Your lips connected with hers like fireworks. She tasted of her strawberry lip balm and of the grapes you both had been snacking on earlier. Softer than pillows, her lips were. They moved like the perfect puzzle piece against yours, like this moment was made to be.

Around your shoulders, Vic wrapped her arms, only bringing you closer together. When the kiss was broken, it was some time before either of you said something. There you both stood, in the bathroom, that smelt of lavender, breathless, admiring each other.

"I'm lucky to have you, Victoria," you whispered. Vic laughed lightly, her eyes crinkling in such an attractive way that made heat bloom once a-fucking-gain. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you even more," she replied, pecking your lips lightly. Once again, she had your hand in hers. "C'mon, show's probably back on."

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 22 - Sci Fi

New part is here! Just a few more in this world. Just realized that it's been about 1 year since I've started this story. Wow.

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

____________________________

The school was greatly relieved to hear that I had made a Connection and was no longer a danger to myself and others. They immediately rescinded my suspension and "encouraged" me to resume training with my new partner as soon as possible. I found the quick 180 amusing, but didn't argue.

It took multiple video calls with Alaira’s father to reassure him that everything was okay, and a few more to prevent him from throwing a parade for Liam to thank him for matching his daughter. His tears of joy at the news was a complicated moment for me.

I had felt a deep sense of joy, but it was an emotion that didn’t belong to me... it belonged to Alaira. Watching him celebrate his daughter’s recovery felt hypocritical, knowing that in the world that I hadn’t taken over, his daughter hadn’t had a good end. She had died alone and afraid, her mind fragmented.

But there was no way to tell him that.

The mission completion status on my communication device had risen quickly from 1% to 42%. Liam and I spent every waking moment together, talking, joking, and learning about each other. We practiced making the connection with the Mech, powering and controlling it now a smooth, painless process. It was natural, coming as easily to me as breathing. Working with him felt less like learning with a new partner as gaining back a missing part of me.

I was happy.

But not everyone was glad to hear we had matched.

Shortly after our match was made public, Liam and I were walking down the hallway after class, and were forced to stop by a young, angry woman blocking our path.

“It’s a lie!” Princess Ilene glared at Liam as she faced us down. “William can’t be a real Connector! He’s always been just a useless waste. He's a stain on the royal family!”

Liam seemed unfazed by his sister’s cruel words, as if he were used to it. The lack of reaction and the implications behind it made me even angrier. I stepped forward, hiding him partly behind me, and smiled pleasantly. My expression and pleasant tone obviously confused the princess, who took a step back.

“Ilene, Ilene, there’s just so much wrong with what you said… I don’t even know where to begin!” I shrugged. “ But, correcting idiocy IS my calling in life, so let me give it a shot:”

Ilene’s face was red with rage, but I ignored her incoherent sputtering, holding up a finger.

“First, Liam is capable of making the connection. He just had a strong barrier. Obviously it isn't impossible, or he and I wouldn’t be matched. “ I held up a second finger. “Secondly, and more importantly: even if he COULDN’T make the connection, he still wouldn’t be useless. He’s a kind, wonderful person, and that’s more than you can say about most Guardians or Connectors… present company included.”

“ How dare…” Princess Ilene took a step back. “What are you trying to say?”

I blinked, shocked “Oh, was I not being obvious enough? I don’t like you. I think Liam is a much better human being than you, and find it pitiful that you try to derive your self worth from putting him down.”

Liam stepped forward, grabbing my hand. “It’s ok…”

“No, its not. You don’t deserve for people to call you trash.” I felt emotional, as if something deep inside me was trying to break free.

“It’s always been like this.” He shrugged, “I’m used to being alone.”

____________________________

“Friends, family?”

The man in front of me was smiling at my question, but the expression was so sad it made me want to cry.

“None.” He twisted his hands in his lap, looking away. “I’m supposed to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Supposedly that’s my fate.”

____________________________

“You are not trash.” I tightened my grip on Liam’s hand. “ and you’re not alone anymore.”

“I know.” He smiled, “Thanks.”

Princess Ilene spoke up, obviously tired of being ignored. “How dare you trample on Chris’s kindness and reject him for this tr…” She started to say the word “trash” but seeing my face, nervously trailed off and started again. “You don’t even know if you two have a high enough resonance match to ward off your mental degradation…!”

“We do. It’s gone.”

She paused, thrown by my matter of fact tone. “… But what if you’re a higher match with Chris…”

“Don’t care. I hate him.”

“… But…”

“You do bring up a good point, though.” I turned to Liam. “We should see what our resonance match rate is.”

He looked nervous. “What if it isn’t very high?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re already partners. I’m just curious.” I grinned. “Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s really high, and I’d love to use that to shut people up.”

He chuckled at that. “If it means that much to you to rub it into people’s faces...”

“It does.”

We walked towards the match center, leaving Princess Ilene stunned into silence behind.

____________________________

Liam got more anxious the closer we got to the match center. “You promise you won’t break our partnership if our match score is low?”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” I didn’t feel insulted at his questioning. I could feel his insecurity, the need for me to say out loud what he thought he knew. “Low or high, we’re partners. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good.” He sighed, grinning. “I like being stuck with you.”

Finally, we were facing the machine that had failed us both so many times. Irrationally, I felt a little nervous, the many prior failures of the past few weeks too fresh and painful to completely forget.

Liam stepped away from me, reaching out and placed his hands on the panel first.

“Unrecognized tester. Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.”

I rubbed my forehead tiredly as the robotic rejection echoed loudly around the room; “I forgot your barrier is still around since it doesn’t effect me anymore.”

“Honestly, I had forgotten too.” He responded with a happy smile.

A crowd was starting to gather, curious at our actions. As more and more people realized what we were doing, I began hearing the whispering between them.

“Didn’t she go crazy?”

“...thought she couldn’t match?”

“He has a barrier? ...never could match.”

“I heard they already formed a connection.”

“Heard her dad is a general, spread the rumor of her matching so she wouldn’t get kicked out.”

“Isn’t she matched up with Chris?”

“Why are they here?”

I grabbed Liam’s hand again, feeling relieved when I felt his warm skin against my own. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He stared straight at me, ignoring the hostile words and gazes of the crowd. “You’re beside me, and that’s all that matters.”

I squeezed his hand in my own. A strong desire welled up within me to be worthy of the trust he gave me. I wanted to show everyone what Liam could do, the bond we had... but of course it couldn't be too easy.

“We just have to figure out how to get your barrier down enough for the machine to read you." I glanced down at my hand that was still holding his. "I mean, I’m touching you now, right? There’s no barrier between us?”

He stared down at our clasped hands, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yes, I feel you. I mean, no, there’s no barrier.”

“Good!" I gestured to the pad with my free hand. "Then why don't you try again while we're still touching each other?”

He placed his hand back on the machine.

“Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.” The machine's voice repeated itself calmly.

His hand fell away, frustrated. I could feel his anxiety, and worried deep down that I had made a wrong choice. I did this to reassure him that we are a good match. To shut up everyone saying that it's a made up story to justify the removal of my suspension. To prove to everyone that Liam isn't useless, even by their own stupid standards.

But none of this will happen if he can't use the machine.

I thought it over, and grinned as I came up with a plan. “Hmm… Well, there’s one other thing we can try…”

I leaned in and kissed him, grabbing his free hand with my own and placing it on the pad together. His breath caught in his chest and he froze in shock very briefly before kissing back. In that moment I almost forgot why I had kissed him in the first place, but the robotic voice quickly reminded me.

“Resonance match detected…. Scanning…. Resonance Frequency Match...100%.”

The voice had barely faded before there were shouts of shock from the crowd. The room descended into chaos at the announcement. I broke away from Liam, who was still distracted, and stared at him.

“Did that machine just say… we are a 100 PERCENT match? I didn’t even think that was possible!”

Liam blinked. “I’m sorry, I dinwhat did you say?”

“We’re a perfect match, Liam.” I laughed. “I knew this was a great idea!”

Definitely didn't completely doubt the plan halfway through... yep.

“So… no one can separate us then?” His body relaxed, and he reached out, pulling me against himself and hugging me tightly. I felt the trembling of his muscles and knew that the anxiety he had shown was only the tip of the iceberg. His true fears and insecurities were still well hidden, even from me.

I hugged him back, waiting for him to back away. The crowd’s murmuring were now a loud roar, as everyone discussed a match rate that most thought impossible to achieve. And there, in the back of the crowd, I saw a solitary figure standing there, watching us with a blank stare.

Chris.

I shuddered, holding Liam tighter. The first thing I had done when Liam and I announced our match was to report to the authorities Chris holding me in his room. I suspected him of drugging me as well, remembering the prick of the needle before falling unconscious.

I was laughed at.

“Why would a student with a crystal clear reputation go out of his way to kidnap a general’s daughter? He already had a match, a better one than his resonance with you if I recall. If anyone had motive to kidnap someone, it would be you to him!”

The words were cutting, made worse by the pity on their faces.

“It’s obvious: your mind was breaking down due to the strain without a Connector, and came up with this fantastical plot of being kidnapped.”

And despite my objections, the claim was dropped. I hadn’t seen Chris since the day we parted in his room.

Until now.

His gaze held mine. He was expressionless, watching us with a detached, almost clinical air. I would have almost thought he was bored, or at least uncaring about the situation in front of him… if not for his eyes…

His eyes were burning with rage.

I looked away first feeling an odd sense of familiarity, as if something similar had happened before.

____________________________

A few days later Liam and I had our first mock battle. Suspended together in the Connection chamber within the Mech, the constant physical and mental connection with Liam made operating the Mech much easier than it ever had been alone.

I fought with a sword, having abandoned the dual guns completely. I breathed a sigh of relief at the speed I could move at as I ducked under the enemy Mech’s attack. Turning with the spin of my dodge, I used the momentum and I swung around to slash the torso of our opponent with the sword.

“Nice hit!” Liam’s voice in my headset was excited. He was cheering me on along the way, spurring me to show off with more complex moves when possible, hoping to impress him.

I pressed the attack, slamming the Mech with the shoulder of ours, and kicking it to the ground before it could recover its balance. The movements were smooth, and my head was clear of any pain. The prior drain and discomfort of controlling the giant robot was completely gone.

As our opponent fell to the ground, I pressed the tip of the sword into the Mech’s neck. The referee called out our victory, and the crowd around the arena cheered, but it was just noise to me. All that mattered was Liam’s excited babbling in my ear.

“That was awesome! I’ve always wondered what it felt like to win a Mech fight, and it’s so much cooler than I ever imagined! This is great! When can we fight again?”

“Glad you had fun, Liam.” I laughed at the innocent delight in his voice. After the stress and pain I had experienced since waking up in this world, the uncertainty of who I was and why I was here, there was something simple and healing about being by Liam’s side.

I feel happy.

I was nervous about admitting it, even to myself, as if the simple acknowledgement of the positive emotion would be enough to destroy it. But I couldn’t deny it. I WAS happy.

After we had undocked and changed, Liam and I relaxed in the fighter’s lounge. Liam as always, had a container that he pulled out of a bag, opening it to reveal a slice of cake. I took it from him with a murmur of thanks, and after the first bite sighed with joy.

“I've been meaning to ask you: Where do you get this cake? It's obviously not from the school shop, it’s way too good!”

Liam smiled at the question. “I made it myself.” Usually more quiet and shy, he seemed very confident when it came to matters such as food. The change in his attitude was something I loved to see.

“Really? You made it? This is too delicious… if only I could have this all the time.” I took another bite, savoring it. As I swallowed, I looked up at him and joked. "Yep, I think the only solution would be for me to just marry you.”

“…” There was a strange silence in the room. I ate some more cake, unconcerned at first, but as the awkward stillness stretched on I paused in my actions, turning towards Liam again with a questioning look.

His face was bright red, and he stared at me with a look of shock and joy.

“Liam?”

He nodded, and blushing more, pulled out his communication device, dialing a number.

“Who are you calling…?”

Alaira’s father, General Gladus showed up on the holographic projection from his device. He stared at Liam, confused for a moment, before barking out with a frown. “Who is this?”

Liam sat up straight, staring at the man with a solemn expression. “General Gladus, my name is William. I am the third born of the Royal family, and a first year student at the academy, and a Level S Connector.”

General Gladus grinned. “I know who you are, son. You’re the wonderful young man who matched with my daughter. I’ve been wanting to talk with you and thank you…”

“Your daughter has asked me to marry her and I have agreed.”

“What?”

“What?”

My father and I asked in unison.

“I was very happy to receive your daughter’s offer of marriage. I will do my very best to support her in all her endeavors.”

“She proposed?”

I silently mouthed an echoing question as my father burst out loudly. “I proposed?”

Liam nodded. “I wanted to let you know so that you could arrange for military leave and be present for our wedding. I know the paperwork can take weeks to months. ”

“…” General Gladus looked stunned. Slowly, his hologram turned towed me. “Alaira, is this true?”

"Yeah, military leave paperwork is notoriously slow..."

He interrupted. "No I mean about the engagement!"

I glanced over at Liam’s excited face.

____________________________

“I don’t believe it’s real.” He whispered, staring down at our hands that were clasped together. “I thought that I was always going to be alone. I thought my fate… my role… ”

I fiddled with the silver band in my hand, trying it on his finger. “Screw fate. We’re getting married now.”

“Yeah.” He grinned, the smile lighting up his face, making the whole room brighter. “Screw fate. I’m your husband!”

____________________________

I shrugged. “What can I say? We’re a destined couple.” I briefly explained about our 100% resonance match.

“… Did you say 100% match?” At my nod, General Gladus opened up his arms. “Welcome to family! When's the wedding?”

After a few more minutes of discussion, Liam hung up, still looking happy.

“Should we notify your parents?”

His face froze. When his gaze finally rose to met mine I shrunk back from the dull look I saw there.

“No reason to.” He reached out, tucking back my hair. “A family without love is just blood related acquaintances. You’re my real family, wife.”

I hugged him again. “That’s right. I’m your family.” I hadn’t really meant to propose… it was just a joke. But the second he called me wife, my heart had felt a sense of recognition. It was happy, but also hurt, a deep remembered pain. A panicked feeling rose up within me, as fear, despair and sadness came in waves, before leaving quickly, overwhelming me without warning or reason. I desperately wanted to remember something, to tear open the fog clouding my brain and peer at what was hidden behind it. But I couldn't.

You must accept your fate. A metallic voice rang in my head, cold, dispassionate, filled with undeniable.

“No.” I whispered, tears filling my eyes even if I wasn’t sure why they were there.

Liam noticed my distress. “Alaira?”

“I'm fine." I think we should go back to practice.” I pulled him to his feet. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

“You’re right, let’s continue working hard so we can save the world like you wanted. But on our next break, we have a wedding to plan!” For the first time, Liam was more excited than me to get to practice. He grabbed my hand and raced forward.

____________________________

Later that night, I went back to my dorm room, still thinking over my last conversation with Liam. He was energetically talking about wedding plans, making lists and drawings with the hologram on his communicator, storing them in special file with my name on it.

When I asked him why he was so excited, he paused, staring down at his hands. “Have you ever felt a desire that was so strong, it seemed to be beyond anything you’ve experienced before?” He glanced up. “I feel this, Alaira. Deep in my soul. I want to be by your side. I want to marry you, but even if you didn’t want that, I’d be your minion or your sidekick. Being by you… helping you… it’s such an integral part of myself, I couldn’t separate from it if I tried.”

“Liam…”

“I think I believe in reincarnation and soul mates.” He smiled. “I’m so happy right now that I think this has to be a hallucination, it can’t be real.”

“I don’t believe it’s real.” I felt the memory of the young man’s whisper in my head again, and pushing it back, I leaned forward to kiss Liam gently.

“It’s real.”

Now alone in my room, I couldn’t help but feel bewildered by the connection with Liam, the emotions and memories that accompanied every moment with him.

“Who am I?” I leaned against the wall and whispered to myself.

“That is the question isn’t it?”

At the unexpected answer I straightened up, falling into a defensive stance. Recognizing the intruder did not make relax, however. If anything it made me more tense.

“Chris. What are you doing here?” I kept my voice calm, trying to hide my inner tension.

“I’m getting tired, Bel.” He sat down on my bed and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m just… so tired of all this.”

“What did you call me?” The name resonated with me, much more than “Alaira” ever had.

He ignored me. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to give up right away. It promised me…”

The room fell into silence. I stood as still as a statue, barely daring to breathe. I was desperate to hear more, terrified to let him continue speaking. Chris’s voice was different, his tone filled with years of regret. His eyes when they stared at me, seemed to look right through me, as if seeing through my skin to something deeper and more profound.

“Why can’t you just accept your fate, Bel?” He sighed, the sound seeming to drag on too long. “Everything depends on it.”

“What do you…?”

“The lower realms you treasure… the friends you’ve made… even…” He hesitated. “Even his existence depends on everyone having their role and playing their part.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Chris.”

“MY NAME ISN’T CHRIS!” He yelled, the sound startling in the otherwise silent room. “Just like yours isn’t Alaira. Just like his… it wasn’t supposed to be…”

“Liam?”

”THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HIS NAME!” Chris, or whoever he was, stood up, his face red with rage. “He corrupted it! He refused his role, and ended up tricking you to do the same.” He stepped closer. “Why do you always force me to be the one who has to carry the weight of the realms on my shoulders? Why does he get to be the only one who is happy? I don’t want to play these games anymore, Bel.”

“I’m not playing games!” I shouted back, frustrated. “I don’t remember anything!”

“And you won’t. Not until it’s over. But it will be soon. Because I’m going to end it.” He walked towards the door, preparing to leave, only stopping when I grabbed his arm.

“No. You aren’t leaving until you explain what you meant.”

His eyes lit up briefly at our contact, and I pulled my hand away quickly. “You made a bet, Bel, and these are rules you can’t escape. All it takes is one failed mission. One failure before you can finish the task of piecing together your soul.”

“Piecing together…?” His words struck a chord within me, but I shook my head. “I may not understand anything going on, but I’ll tell you this: I won’t fail my mission.”

The light is his eyes dimmed. “You started this. Just remember that, when you regret everything. You. Started. This.”

He left through room, slamming the door behind him. I stood in place, staring blankly, my mind racing.

Realms, real names, missions and bets… I don’t understand any of it.

But I knew one thing, as certainly as if it were imprinted on my soul.

I would not accept my fate.

Even if I couldn’t remember what that fate was.

Even if I had to destroy fate itself to escape it.

[ohheyitsokay]

first base

part 6 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.7k

warnings: strong language, illusions to part trauma

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need ot know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the guys start to explain baseball both as a game and a career to the reader, and Frankie takes a step in the right direction instead of running.

>> 

It was Francisco’s idea for someone to walk you to your car, but Will ended up doing it, his mind too lost in thought for his usually sharp eyes to see. They missed the drop in Frankie’s shoulders, the tilt of Santi's head, and the way that even after the goodbyes, your fingers waved an extra  wave at just one of them before you turned away. He didn’t say anything as you walked and thanked him again for inviting you to his grandparents with everyone, and apologized for James’ absence.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his accent was more pronounced and you almost thought he was going to shake your hand before he pulled you into a rough hug.

“What for?” the Millers, you were learning, were physically affectionate, but there was something in the way he did it, something in the way he said it that made you pause.

“The other night, and,” he shrugged, for once not quite knowing what to say, and you could almost see the words swimming behind his deep blue eyes. With a content sigh, you perched on the edge of the hood of your car, settling in for a real conversation with William Miller. Ironhead, they told you, a golden top athlete and responsible older of Ben, and the whole group. There was a huff, as he acknowledged it, smiling a little bit.

“You guys protect him,” you offered, and he crossed his arms, leaning next to you. Will blinked, then uncrossed his arms again.

“Yeah,” his hands moved along the grooves of the car, as if he was concentrated on being open with you. “We have to.”

“You’re his big brother.” 

You didn’t ask, but they’re not? but it was implied. The sturdy first-baseman stilled, looking right at you. If this had been less of a conversation, it would have occurred to him that the prolonged time alone with you was creating a curiosity what was killing his friend inside.

“We were all him, a few years ago,” his eyes felt like they were boring into yours, intense in a comforting way, like he would ask permission before peering into your soul. “High on attention, moving too fast to think, caught up in the parties and girls and... all of it.”

Nodding while he talked, you muttered not relatable underneath his voice and he half smiled as he continued. Still, you understood what he was getting at.

“It got bad,” he said it like he had rehearsed it, or maybe had said it before. “Redfly wants it back, bigger, better. He could do it, too, if…” Will talked with his hands just enough to wave off the end of that sentence. “We all made mistakes. Did shit we aren’t proud of. Still sort of recovering from that. Just… don’t like seeing him make some of the same choices.”

“He’s got a big heart,” you said, asking not for confirmation, but out of curiosity. He grinned, breaking his frustrated reminiscing and nodded.

“You’re good for him,” he pushed off the car, a signal that he said what he needed to. Another hug, and at the same time as you said, “I like you guys,” you could’ve sworn he added, “For all of us.”

Pulling back, you stared, but he didn’t repeat himself, and you finished your goodbyes. The drive home, you forgot to turn on the radio the whole drive, thinking.

There was a place for you, with those five boys, it wasn’t a crazy once-in-a-lifetime thing. And maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

-

There was nothing about Francisco that you didn’t like – except he spilled your secret.

I actually don’t know anything about baseball.

Frankie was mad he shared it, too. His daydreams of having you pressed against his side – or better yet, in his lap – as he explained the beautiful game to you dwindled before his eyes. His friends were yelling, indignant, and excited. Already the evening was being planned, to watch a game and explain it to you and with resignation he knew they were all looking forward to it.

So, two evenings later, he found himself trying to get a seat next to yours on the little couch of Santi's rental. You brought snacks and a recording James had given you, and were wearing an old team tshirt that made his heart flip over in his chest.

It was silly, how eagerly they all waited for the recording to start, just boys excited to strut their stuff and show off.

“So exactly how much do you know?” Will was on your other side, the most relaxed of the bunch, sipping something fizzy. He seemed amused, more than anything.

“Let’s just assume I know nothing,” you shrugged. They were sure that wasn’t true, but it made it more fun.

“That’s me!” Santiago said, raising his eyebrows and pointing. It was, which you obviously knew, but you asked for it. Tom, who was gripping a beer while hovering by the food and texting, coughed a laugh.

“Okay, smart-ass,” you grabbed a handful of candy off the coffee table and threw one at Santi’s head. “You’re the pitcher. What do you do, other than throw the ball?”

He caught it, grinning, before Ben chimed in.

“Nothing.”

Santi made an offended noise in the back of his throat. He explained it to you – he was in control, throwing the ball in different ways to manipulate the batter.

“So, if all goes well, the batter misses and you catch it,” your eyes found Frankie’s, confirming, and he shrugged, more focused on restraining himself from pulling you against him. They then explained, strikes were good, but sometimes it was equally good to make the batter hit it badly.

“What’s a bat hit, at this level?”

Benny’s chest swelled a little with pride as he said anything he could catch. They corrected him – anything anyone could catch. That would give the other team an “out" faster than three strikes.

His voice was deep, but his laughter was lighter as Benny launched into a story like a overgrown kid trying to share. You could barely follow it as he jumped around and the others began to interject the pieces that he missed. It made you smile, how passionate they were about what they did.

Frankie saw a chance in the midst of the loud conversation, swallowed hard, and took it, sliding a little bit closer to you. He kept his voice low, as he explained that he and Pope would communicate the plan with hand signals. It was a gift from them, really, to let him show them you, your eyes alight as you looked at his broad, scarred hands.

The snap of the ball hitting a bat broke the moment, and all of you turned back towards the screen. Tom tuned in, telling you what he did in the outfield – mostly standing and running and catching and throwing – before he excused himself and slipped out. There was a joke somewhere, about the differences between infielders and outfielders, but no one made it.

You watched a tiny version of Will hit the ball, and the camera followed it as if flew all the way over the heads of the opposing team, past the fence and into the crowd.

“A home run?” That was one thing you didn’t really need to ask, but Will looked proud, anyway.

“Who has the record?” The real question, executed with raised brows and a conspiring sip of your drink as Santi made a face at you. At this point, you had their measure - jealousy wasn’t stronger that their comradery. 

Your elbow bumped Frankie’s ribs and even though it didn’t hurt, he winced. “Will,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“It’ll be me in a few years,” Benny added with his wide smile, not even trying to dodge the pillows and pretzels thrown at his face.

“Sore subject?” eyes in Frankie’s, it made him thaw -that you were talking just to him.

“I’m a bad batter.” It was the truth. It wasn’t really in his skill set and he normally didn’t mind because it meant he had to do it less, but… he really didn’t like letting you down. It didn’t seem like you really cared, though, he hoped with all his heart that he wasn’t hallucinating when you slid closer to him. You made a joke about how you would certainly be worse, and his daydream about teaching you returned in force.

“Actually,” Santi’s quiet voice seemed more thoughtful than teasing, and he leaned in so only Frankie could hear him. “Recently you’ve been better,” he punched his friend’s arm and added, “Because you’ve got a good luck charm.”

They both looked at you, squinting at the screen and comparing your score sheet to the correct one.

“I guess so,” Frankie’s tone was just as thoughtful.

-

Throughout the evening all the remaining men were affectionate with you, and it was weirding you out. You had just gotten used to being friends with minor celebrities, and now? 

It may have been the fact that you were just letting them show off their skills but something had definitely changed. It was like it was settled, your place with them, your value to them. Ben had sat in front of you, and asked you to run your fingers through his hair like you had before, as he explained what a shortstop did. He played it off like he didn’t do much, genuinely humble – but as it turned out, they were the most valuable player on the team, the core to communication and guidance. It was sweet, that he got so excited to share it with you, and accidentally let it all spill out.

Will remembered your drink, and teased you more than he ever had, letting himself banter with you and Santi.

Their hands were on your shoulders, ruffling your hair, on your arm, your knees, brushing or squeezing like they were trying to communicate to you how thankful they were that you actually cared. It was nice, but most of all, it was comfortable. It reinforced what Will had laid the foundation for - you really were a part of this, for the long haul.

Best of all was how close you were against the solid warmth of Francisco’s side. His arm was over the top of the couch, respectfully, and his fingers caught on your shoulder and the tips of your hair, like his restraint was crumbling. 

When the game was over and the Miller boys faked yawns and slipped out, the weight of his arm settled, finally, and you leaned into him. Soon, you would have to pull away, pretend you hadn’t wanted to cuddle him fully so you wouldn’t overstay your welcome, but it was hard when it seemed like he wanted you to stay, too. 

You made the time less awkward for Santi, though, since your final question was for the two of them, anyway.

“Will talked to me the other day, about before.” They snapped to attention, looking at you cautiously. “Would you guys… tell me, sometime? About all of it?” Knowing what you meant, the air was thick as they exchanged glances.

They didn’t have time for it all. Frankie’s hand fidgeted on your shoulder, and his grip on you tightened. You reached up and touched his hand, a reassurance, or maybe insurance for his overthinking mind, before you forced yourself to pull away. It didn’t need to be right now.

“Yeah, if you want,” Santiago was a man prone to talking, charming, working his was out of unpleasant situations. He fought the instinct. 

It came out haltingly, the high of their success, and how each one of them had crashed down in their own way. They didn’t share too many details of the other men just themselves, and how it had felt.

For Santi, he threw himself into the game, overworking his mind and body until his knees gave out. It cost him a small fortune in treatments, a lost contract with his last team, and forced him into a break with his long term girlfriend. He thought his life was over, shot straight into the ground, and ended up in continuous therapy for both his mind as well as his knees. Will dated a girl who was in it for the wrong reasons, had his proposal on tabloid covers before he saw it, and locked himself away. Tom drank himself into a quiet, secretive 30 day rebab. 

It was the hardest to share - Frankie’s drug use, his spiral as he balanced the two extreme sides of his life. He mentioned his family, his sister and he baby like weights on his shoulders, and his eyes told you and Pope both that he would tell you more later, when and if you wanted him too.

They each had been devastated by their mistakes, and you were almost in awe of them as they talked about keeping each other accountable, building and holding each other up, these past few years. There was plenty, like Will said, that was still healing, still being worked on, but it was amazing to see how far they’d come.

Francisco watched you closely, also fighting himself internally. It was a miracle you hadn’t run away, and he could see it like a sunrise on the horizon - hope. An actual real chance that he would get a shot with you, a real shot without secrets and faking it and anxiety. 

You were thanking them both, hands cleaning up as you asked them if there was anything you should be conscious of in the future. He wasn’t jealous when Pope hugged you for a beat longer than normal, and he had to smile at his friend’s excitement as he talked about what baseball had become to them, and how tight their friendships were.

“Now you’re stuck with us,” Santi really meant it, and Frankie made a sound so you knew he agreed.

His mind was running as you walked together to your cars, but the feel of you wouldn’t leave his chest and he couldn’t stop just... talking to you. 

The conversation had turned back to the game, and your growing love for it had nothing on his growing feelings for you. When you stopped at your car, he couldn’t bring himself to keep going, to move past and head home. The flow of words lulled and he found himself hovering close to you, above you like he had in the kitchen of your abuelo’s home. Your eyes flickered across his face, and he watched your tongue wet your lips subconsciously, and it was all over.

 Frankie pulled you into him, kissing you as gently as he could manage. He meant for you to be able to pull away, if you wanted to - if it was too much, all of the information. You didn’t take it, kissing him back and letting him press into you until your back was against the cool metal of the car. 

When you had watched them play, really watched and understood, Frankie had loved the way you looked at him, had thought nothing would feel better than your adoration. 

He was wrong. 

Feeling you in his arms, pinned between his body and your car, kissing him back like you wanted this as much as he did was the most intense thing he’d ever experienced. 

Pulling back, his voice was rough as he asked you if you’d want to talk, sometimes soon, just you and him. You were just as breathless as he was, and your affirmation felt as good as a homerun. When he stepped fully back so you could open the driver’s side door, your head ducked as you smiled at him, and he wanted to eat you alive. 

But he let you go, and as you drove away he thought about stealing after you, but he didn’t. There was a time and place for that, but after such a  perfect moment, Frankie was content biding his time. He still had more work to do. 

>>

taglist

@fangirl-316 ​ @scribbledghost ​ @writeforfandoms ​ @beautyagegoodnesssize ​ @princess76179 ​ @mrsbentallmadge ​

hey batter batter taglist

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind  @hnt-escape @athalien  @the-witty-pen-name ​ @daffodin ​

[soulwillower]

tozier • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x tozier!reader smut)

requested: okay so once regular requests open, here’s my idea. so the reader and richie are siblings and they absolutely hate each other and to get under his sisters skin, he fucks her best friend. so in sheer anger she decides to fuck all of his

warnings: underage drinking, very flirty bill denbrough, smut, oral (male receiving), a teeny bit of deepthroating, fingering, switch bill, unprotected sex, praise kink, a teeeeeny bit of a pain kink i guess but i think that’s it. unedited

part 5 of the tozier series [  i  ii  iii  iv  ]

(losers and reader are 20+ and in college in this)

5.7k words

♡

when richie had galloped into your room to tell you that the losers were coming over, you’d just shrugged it off and nodded your head - you were used to your brother’s friends being around. honestly, now it didnt ever bother you because despite the pain in the ass that he is, your brother sure knew how to pick a friend or two (or six).

you’re thinking about that as you pad into your kitchen, face on the floor until you see richie’s legs sat backwards in a chair.

“hiya.” richie greets you with a two-fingered salute as you look up. you open your mouth to respond but your breathing is cut short when you look to the right, where bill denbrough stands in all his stupid sexy glory in the middle of your kitchen, toying with a lighter as he meets your eyes.

bill. oh god.

“hey, y/n.” he says with a soft grin, his green eyes alight with joy as he tosses his lighter to richie, who catches it swiftly.

you try your hardest to not fucking blush because damn it, all he said was “hi” and you’re honest to god 3 seconds away from taking off all of your clothes and leaping onto him. or vomiting in the sink - maybe both. for some reason, bill always makes you feel hot, no matter how old you get and how many of his friends you bone.

“h-hi bill, how are you?” you ask back, cursing your nervous stutter. richie, who has apparently decided to throw caution to the wind and smoke openly in your kitchen instead of going out back to the yard, chuckles through his lit cig. “aw, you’re startin' to sound like him, sis.”

you shoot richie an alarmed look, "that's a bit rude." you say and richie shrugs it off, wiggling his stupid bony hand at you, “nah c’mon, it’s so cute!” he insists and you just turn even redder.

“n-no, he’s right.” bill mutters with another goddamn smile and your chest flutters with butterflies as you make eye contact. “but i’m doing really good, thanks. how are you, y/n? are you going to come w-with us tonight?”

you and richie both look at the boy standing casually at your kitchen counter, his eyes innocent as he pops a blackberry between his plush lips. you have to tear your eyes from him because he’s staring at you expectantly and you think you might fucking combust.

bill denbrough, your brother’s best friend, was very hot. obviously. he had always been sweet - when you were all in middle school you remember bill always being kind albeit dismissive when you would see him at your house in passing.

but puberty smacked into bill like a fucking freight train, just as it did to you and your brother and all of his friends, and bill was a borderline god now. it was completely un-fucking-fair, because you swear sometime between when richie slept with your best friend and now, you went from barely batting an eye when the boy was around your house to blushing when he so much as looked at you and waking up in a sweat after having a dream of him sneaking into your room from richie’s and fucking the daylights out of you.

totally, completely un-fucking-fair.

but sometimes, you kind of thought bill saw you in the same way you saw him. sometimes.

it was there in the way bill’s eyes would meet yours; it was there in his gentle words and sharp laughter whenever stan or your brother made a stupid joke and bill was three beers into the night, the way he’d immediately look for you every time he did so.

you’re pretty sure it was there most of the time - even before you started on this quest of sorts to get back at richie, because it's not like you weren't thinking about richie's friends before you started this whole thing. and bill has always been the boy next door, the friend that your mom always gushed about even from a young age; he's just grown into his looks so quickly in the five years since you were in middle school.

and that, in itself, is the real reason why you’re thrown by bill’s insistence that you join the rest of the group tonight - you can count on your hands the amount of times that bill denbrough has asked you to hang out. it's not like he doesn't like you, but it's more like he doesn't care if you're there either way. and you hate to say it, but that nonchalant attitude makes your thighs clench every time he smirks when you walk into the room.

“i mean, sure, that's cool.” you say neutrally, feeling way shier than you ought to when, at the same time, you’re watching bill crack his knuckles and all you can think about is him sliding his fingers deep inside of you.

“we're going to kiera gross's party.” bill says with barely any interest as he picks another blackberry out, and yes you are blushing again so you turn to look at your brother instead. you really didnt want to piss rich off, but if bill denbrough was insisting you go with them tonight...

he shrugs, "whatever, just don't be a bitch." he says with a playful grin. "oh, and don't get too flustered tonight, y/n. you know, cuz stan's coming." richie says in tease, making you flush. "shut up, richie." you hiss, shoving his shoulder and sneaking a glance at bill, whose expression is unreadable as he stares between you and your brother.

you'd had a small crush on stan when you were kids, which had weaned off eventually, but it used to be fairly obvious. stan was so funny and intelligent and admittedly very hot, but he and especially richie still tease you about it occasionally, which is very mortifying. you don't know why you're so flustered that bill knows - it's not like he'd care for any reason, and he's too nice to really tease you about it too much anyways, and it's not like he hasn't heard them tease you about it before.

you're just embarrassed.

"okay. yeah, i remember her. i'll come." you mutter, toying with the hem of the shirt you're wearing and smiling at bill. you feel hot under his gaze and your legs clench together just at the way his fingers tap against the counter. god.

"y/n, what the hell, 's that my shirt?" richie pipes up, switching the subject with brows furrowed as you blink. "i don't know what you're talking about." you say, trying to feign innocence as you grin at the two boys in front of you. richie scowls, "c'mon, stop stealing my shit!" he whines and you shrug, glaring at him, "stop stealing my weed, then."

"take it off." he grumbles, crossing his arms, and you scoff.

"big deal, rich, you have so many other shirts." you reason as you walk over to fill up a glass of water. "no, y/n, it's mine. take it off!" he insists, and you sigh, making eye contact with bill from across the counter.

"fine!" you snap, getting a sly idea in your head. a very bold idea, one that will be perfect to piss richie off. so you start to lift the shirt up from off your frame, lifting a pointed brow at richie as his eyes widen and he rushes towards you.

"no, no! jesus, don't fuckin' do that." he yelps. bill's chuckling and you can't help but look up at him, flushing under his smirk as he lifts his brows playfully at you. he looks so hot as he smirks down at you, his eyes trailing down to where your fingers still have the hem of the shirt lifted up slightly.

"i-i wouldn't mind." bill says quietly, a glint in his eyes that immediately makes you flush, your stomach flipping around at his words as you tear your gaze away, feeling the adrenaline rush from your brother's anger and bill's attention. your heart stops at his words and your stomach burns, butterflies fluttering around as a small giggle escapes your lips.

"bill, stop. fuck you. fuck both of you, actually." richie mutters, rolling his eyes and turning away from you both, putting out his cigarette on his shoe and standing to go throw it away. bill looks at you with red cheeks of his own, lifting a brow in tease as he looks at you.

"he was just joking, richie." you say with a smirk, ignoring how weak your legs feel. you grip the counter as you stare at bill, unsure where his boldness comes from but wondering if it's driven by the same reason you're acting up.

bill hums, smirking to himself as he pulls a few more blackberries and drops them in a bowl. "oh sure, c'mon trashmouth. i was j-just joking."

“william.” richie snaps and you raise your brows, confused but loving what was happening. you're slightly thrown off - having forgotten that bill's full name was william, but also because of the sharpness and warning tone in richie's voice.

“what?” bill asks with a laugh, looking up from the damn fruit carton as he stares richie down. it almost feels like a challenge, the way your brother is staring at bill, and you feel left out in a way that you don't really know if you want to be let in.

it's slightly tense and you’re shocked - richie is the kind of fucker who laughs at suave shit like that, but the more you think about how protective he is of his friends, the sooner you roll your eyes.

"oh....kay. i'm gonna- i'm gonna go." you say awkwardly, biting your lip. you hide your grin as you slip out of the kitchen, meeting eyes with bill as he winks subtly at you while richie shakes his head with a frustrated glare down at the lighter in his hands. "y/n," richie calls as he follows you down the hall.

you turn right at the base of the stairs, a smirk on your face. "what?" you snap. he glares at you. "don't do that shit in front of my friends, that's so fucked."

you stare at him, trying your hardest not to smile. you wonder if bill can hear you. "what? we were just teasing you, richie. i can't help it if your friends all want to fuck me."

he runs his hand over his face, groaning, "can you be quiet? bill probably heard that. and don't fuckin' joke about that. if you touch one of my friends i'll kill you." he snaps. 

you shove him, completely floored that he could be so daft. "richie, you're still fucking my best friend! i hate you, why are you such an asshole?"

"whatever. stay away until we leave tonight." richie says as he turns to leave, holding up a middle finger as he stalks back towards the kitchen.

you didn't go back downstairs until you heard the others come in about forty five minutes later, spending most of your time getting ready and calming down after richie's stunt. you decided that tonight is the night you try and hit on bill. after grinning to yourself in the mirror and flattening your top against your chest, you make your way down from your room to find all of richie's friends lounging around the kitchen. of course, your eyes immediately find bill, who is still eating those damn blackberries. you chuckle.

"do you ever put those down?" you ask, causing him to pick up his head and chew slowly, grinning through a closed mouth as if he'd been caught red-handed. his eyes move up and down your figure and it makes your stomach flutter. he doesn't get the time to respond because richie's already herding everyone out the door. bev's winking at you, which makes your stomach flip, slinging an arm around your shoulder in greeting as you all file into stan's hatchback, mumbling about the girl's house whose party you're going to.

you spend the first two hours with bev and mike, playing pong and sipping casually on mixed drinks while you catch up with people you haven't seen since you graduated.

a while after, mike and bev start to play king’s cup. you opt out, instead deciding to go find some of the others. when you make your way to the kitchen, you find richie and stan taking body shots off of two girls you remember from your bio class junior year. 

the sting of jealousy you get from the girl as she cards her fingers through stan's curls instantly makes you sour, shoving richie as you grab a mike's hard lemonade and crack it open on the counter.

"what's wrong with you?" richie mumbles, wiping his mouth as the girls walk away. stan smirks as he leans on the counter, his cheeks red. god, you hate being so horny. where's bill?

your eyes linger over the crowd and richie, always the asshole, takes the opportunity you'd accidentally just presented to him. "you sad stan the man isn’t taking body shots off of you? you’re not really his type, sorry.” 

you gape at richie, feeling like you could murder him on the spot. you’re bright red, not daring to look at stan as he mutters, “richie, you’re a fucking asshole.” 

you glare at your brother. “just trying to find the best thing to kill you with. i want you dead.” 

"whatever, you don't need to be so sensitive." richie teases, craning his neck when somebody calls his name from the backyard. "sis, duty calls. catch you in a bit." he adds, his attention on your friend who'd just shown up and is waving richie over. the sight of her makes you roll your eyes at richie.

as the boys leave, stan nudges you, "don't listen to him, he just doesn’t like the idea of me liking you more than him. you're cute when you blush." he nudges your chin with his fingers and then laughs when you flush even more, turning and making his way through the crowd with a drunken goodbye.

jesus christ. 

now that you're alone, you want to scream. your eyes roll back as you rub your face with a short sigh. what the fuck were you thinking, getting involved with ben, bev, mike, and eddie? and now bill? plus, what’s stan up to, since when was he such a flirt? 

god, you're way over your head.

“a-are you okay?" the devil himself asks as he pads into the kitchen behind you, a smile on his face. great.

you sigh, shaking your head, "richie makes me so fucking mad sometimes." you say honestly, wary of talking shit about richie to his best friend. bill just nods, and you realize for a second you really let yourself think that richie's friends didn't know he was an asshole.

"you know,” bill smirks, “r-rich told me to stay away from you tonight.”  bill just takes three steps closer, oh so slow, and it unintentionally backs you against the counter.  your mouth goes dry, your body buzzing at the proximity.  slowly, bill places his hands next to you and leans on the counter.  “we should just get back at him to piss him off.” he mutters and your eyes widen, lips parting as you stare at him. "it's f-funny when he's mad."

your eyes bounce down to his lips, which are curled in a smirk and you breathe out shortly. "how do you suggest we do that?" you whisper, hands snaking around his shoulders and ignoring the pounding in your heart. he smirks, "d-don't know. what would piss him off the most?"

you grin, feigning innocence. "y'know... maybe if we just went into a room together right in front of him. he'd get somad." you say with a giggle. bill chuckles, turning back to see richie laughing loudly with your old friend by his side, telling some stupid story that was probably making everyone roll their eyes. "let's go, then." bill says, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the kitchen, your face burning already at how easy that just was.

you pass the group of people that richie's in, and bill sends you a look before he taps a kid next to richie on the shoulder, effectively grabbing richie's attention. "h-hey, can you hold onto this drink? just for a bit?" bill says, handing him his cup. you follow bill's lead, handing your drink to your friend and asking her to hold onto it. "we'll be back in a bit." you say, sending her a wink and making richie furrow his brows.

you see his eyes follow you as bill grabs your hand and pulls you towards the closest room, his hand falling to your back as he ushers you into the room. as the door closes, you let out a bit of a laugh, shaking your head. you sit on the ground in the empty bedroom and bill follows, his knees grazing yours and making your stomach flip embarrasingly. he pulls out a deck of cards. "w-want to play something while we w-wait?"

you snort, realizing if you want to make richie suspicious you should at least stay in here for a bit. and it's not like you're complaining that you have to spend time alone with bill denbrough. "you want to play war?" you ask, looking at bill.

he nods and starts shuffling, handing you half the deck. "he's going to kill me." you mumble with a slight laugh. bill sends you a look. "he's going to kill m-me, not you." he says, shaking his head.

you laugh, "no, he's going to be furious. he's a bit hypocritical, he doesn't want me to have sex with you, let alone be nearyou, but he's probably going to take home my best friend again tonight."

bill hums, and that's when you realize how blunt you'd just been.

"he just d-doesn't like it when people have fun." bill says, lifting a brow as his voice goes lower. you turn slightly red as you make eye contact. "and it sounds like he kind of deserves it, anyways. i think if we had sex it would be a win-win."

you blink because wow, bill is much smoother than you expected. you look at him, his dark auburn brows rising above his half life eyes, which are trained on your lips. "then what's stopping us?" you say in a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

and just like that's you're kissing bill.

his lips are chapped and warm, strong against you as he pulls you closer by your neck. he smells amazing, and you surge up against him with a small sigh when his tongue brushes along your bottom lip. you're about to move over and straddle him, but a noise makes you pull away.

"out of the way!" you hear your brother's voice distinctly call muffled from behind the door and you jerk away from bill suddenly. he chuckles at you and you both pull yourselves together just as the door bursts open, richie standing at the doorway. you blink up at him with a smirk, the deck of cards in your hand as bill asks him innocently, "what's up, r-rich?"

"what the hell are you doing in here?" he snaps, looking between you with angry eyes. you snort, "we were going to play war. is that okay, dad?" you spit sarcastically. richie rolls his eyes, "get out. we're leaving anyways."

and he turns, leaving the door wide open as he tries to grab mike's attention. you meet bill's eyes and you both laugh awkwardly after having been interrupted, ignoring the red on your cheeks as you make your way towards the front of the house to meet up with the others.

richie acts like a toddler for the ride home, the streets at one in the morning empty as you all sing along terribly to the music stan plays. he's pouting and sending you and bill death glares from where the two of you sit in the trunk of the car, making you smirk to bill when richie looks away.

but after you've all gone to bed, you toss and turn in your room by yourself, unable to get bill off your mind. his lips, his hands on your neck and waist... after thirty minutes of debating, you finally pull yourself up and creep out of your room to find him in the basement with the others. you're not sure what your plan is, but luckily you don't have to finish it because you nearly run into him five steps away from your bedroom door.

"oh!" you say, jumping a bit in the dim lighting. "y/n." he says, looking surprised and guilty. "what're you doing up?" you say, letting out a breath as your heart rate jumps.

"can't sleep." bill explains, green eyes boring into yours. you hum, nodding and ignoring the blatant lie bill just told, ignoring that he's walked up two flights of stairs towards your room just because he 'can't sleep.'

it makes you grin. "well, i still have that deck of cards we were using earlier." you say, sending him a look as you gesture slightly to your bedroom behind you. bill smirks, "we n-never did get to play that round of war, did we?" he says with a charming smile.

it's mostly quiet as you set up the deck, the tension of being alone together in the middle of the night in your bedroom making you seem like you're doing something you're not supposed to. it makes you feel warm as you start playing, the first time you draw the same card giving you a good idea.

after you flip your fourth card down and see you lost, you let out a sigh. "fuck." you whisper, reaching and pulling your top off. you toss it to the ground next to where you and bill sit and then you dare to look at him.

his eyes are wide, cheeks flushed as he stares at your chest, your skin glowing against the fabric of your bra. "fuck." he nearly moans, and the noise makes you instantly clench your thighs. "these rules are n-not the ones my parents taught me." he says with a swallow. you laugh a bit, shifting as your heart pounds. "i like this version much better." he whispers.

the next time you both draw the same card, he loses, and he smirks, pulling his own shirt off. it makes you turn red because yeah, you forgot he and stan are on the baseball team and you did not expect him to be this fit. you lick your lips, pulling your eyes off his bare skin and clearing your throat. it's silent in the room, the sexual tension almost killing you.

as you both draw a matching card next time, you're about to scream from the intensity. you lose and try to hide your smirk as you pull your shorts off your legs, going onto your knees and grinning at bill. he groans lowly, biting his lip and making you impossibly more wet.

"i don't know how long this game's gonna be, y/n." he says lowly, his eyes glued to your frame. you lick your lips, shrugging as you move to crawl toward him, "we can just say i win, then." you whisper, throwing a leg around his hips and settling into his lap.

"well why can't i win?" he asks as his hands course over your bare skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. he's grinning softly, eyes stuck on your lips with an enticing look. you melt as you lean forward, "you'll have to work for it." you whisper against his lips, kissing him.

his hand slides from your hip up to your jaw, his thumb caressing your chin softly as he presses against you. "f-fuck, y/n." he mutters against your lips as you pull back, moving your hips softly down against him and feeling his cock twitch below you. you let out a small moan into his ear as you balance your forehead on his shoulder, your fingers roaming over his chest.

he's biting softly into your neck minutes later, making you whimper as his thumb sneaks down to rub circles against your clit slowly. you palm him lightly and his head falls against the mattress, letting out a moan. you kiss him as your hand moves, squeezing him lightly and loving his stuttering breath on your skin.

you pull yourself off of him and sneak between his legs, laying down so he has a perfect view of your ass as you mouth over his boxers. you tease his cock with your mouth before you mumble, "can i taste you?"

"y-yeah, fuck yes." he breathes out, and if it weren't for your aching need to make him feel good, you might have huffed at how needy he sounded. you pull him out of his boxers and toss the underwear to the side, watching as his cock springs up to hit his stomach.

"sh-shit," he whimpers as you grin, leading your mouth down to press hot, open mouth kisses down his shaft.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays hard against your palm. you lick your lips, leaning towards him and keeping your eyes on his.

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take him into your mouth slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in as you can. he's bigger than anyone you've been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

he lets out a choked moan as you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag. you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him. you know he’s already close and you smirk when you hear him moan swears under his breath. he's whimpering, his cheeks rosy as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. he's putty in your hands, and it makes your stomach flutter.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s writhing under your touch. he groans, one hand digging into the carpet, the other resting in your hair, his chest rising and falling shakily.

bill sits up, his eyes dark and lip caught between his lip as he watches you. “i see you touching yourself." he mutters, and your hand slowly stops rubbing your clit, your mouth stilling until he's deep in your mouth and you look up at him. "a-are you going to let me fuck you?” he says, his demeanor changing so quickly you swear you can't breathe. you turn red as you pull your mouth off his cock, a string of spit falling down your chin. he catches it with his thumb and then slips his thumb into your mouth.

"i just want to make you feel good." he says as your tongue swirls eagerly over his thumb. as he pulls it out you nod, trying to find the words to regain the authority that you'd just lost. "such a pretty girl." he mutters as he rubs your cheeks with his hands.

"please," you say, feeling desperate. "please fuck me."

he moans at that, eyes rolling a bit as he nudges you so you're laying back on your carpet. he's above you then, kissing you deeply as his hand slowly trails from your knee and up slowly towards your neglected pussy, his fingers stopping to rub your clothed folds. you let out a small moan as his fingers move, your toes curling. "so wet." he says quietly as he looks at you, watching your reactions to see what you like. it gives you butterflies.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s slipping a finger inside your heat slowly and you're gasping, eyes clenching in pleasure.

he's building a rhythm with his fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. you can’t find it to care as you look up at bill, staring back at you with swollen lips and a smirk, his fingers making you grip his hair in ecstasy.

your moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly as his thumb starts to rub your clit, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other holding your breast. his head dips down, lips attaching to the other nipple and swirling, making you arch your back.

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he leaves light hickeys all around your breasts. the thought of bill denbrough marking you up for everyone, including your brother and all the other losers to see pushes you closer to the edge.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you moan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinful.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark, pumping himself in his other hand. "fuck." he mutters as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, staring down at you. "you sure you want to?" he asks, lips close to yours. you nod, "please, bill, need it so bad." you say, hands rising to his shoulders.

he says nothing then, instead lining up at your entrance and teasing your swollen clit with his head. he's kissing up and down your throat and you let out a whimper, gripping his bare shoulders. and then he pushes into you slowly, his teeth grazing your neck. the sudden stretch fills you to the brim and you let out a guttural noise at the feeling. your back rubs uncomfortably against the carpet as he pushes into you, but your hands grip his shoulders tighter and all you can think about is bill.

“fuck, bill.” you mumble, moaning his name as he starts thrusting, building his pace slowly as you adjust to his size. "harder." you barely get out, whimpering as his hands grip your hips, and then he’s snapping his hips into yours.

“fuck, you're perfect.” his hands grip you, holding your legs open as your eyes roll back slightly, “look at you, f-fuck.” he pounds you into the carpet, his lips then falling to suck large marks on your neck, the stinging pleasure of your bare back on the carpet adding to the pleasure of bill tearing you apart.

his hips still snap into you deeply, his arm slipping under your back to prop you up slightly, making him hit your g-spot and making you let out a loud moan. you feel him so deep inside of you that tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure building instantly. "so pretty." he says against your neck.

you keen loudly, back arching as you yelp his name. he pulls back to look at you, hand tugging on your hair so you look at him as he pounds into you. “look at you.” his voice is deep and rough and then he's pressing a kiss to your temple as he fills deep inside you, the feeling overwhelming as your orgasm creeps up again.

your fingers scratch down his bare back, making him hiss and hum slightly, gripping your hips and lifting you slightly. after a few more thrusts, he pulls out and is flipping you quickly to your hands and knees, hand pressing gently on your back so you arch it. "shit." he hisses under his breath as he eases back into you, the new angle has you biting your hand, his cock pressing deep inside you from the pace of his hips. his lips pepper over the raw skin of your back, red and sensitive from rubbing against your carpet so hard.

and he nudges your head as he thrusts into you, tilting your jaw so he kisses you. his lips are against yours like he’s claiming you, his teeth clashing slightly with yours and his tongue dominating. you’re weak, legs shaking as he pounds into you.

you moan, your stomach clenching in ecstasy as you moan out his name, coming closer with each harsh thrust, “bill, fuck, im gonna cum,” you whimper. at your words, he pulls out of you and flips you again, so you're back on your back, this time lifting one of your legs and pushing into you quickly. your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh.

“wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down. you whimper, face red from the pleasure of his words. he's slamming into you, your back rubbing hard against the ground and his eyes admiring the smudged makeup of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already.

his thumb rubs circles on your cllit and as he presses lightly, you can't hold off any longer. "bill, fuck!" you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. "so pretty." he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back.

"fuck, b-babe, 'm gonna cum." he mutters as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips as he thrusts one last time into you, pulling out. you quickly move as he rises to his knees, opening your mouth as his fingers squeeze your jaw.

he's pumping himself as his cheeks redden, chest rising and falling quickly. "y/n, fuck." he mutters he as he cums, spilling onto your tongue as you look up at him.

beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he spills into your mouth, his cock laying heavy on your tongue.

you look up at him with wide eyes as he sighs, falling back down next to you. "j-jesus." he mutters, and you laugh, kissing his cheeks and then his lips.

"th-that'll piss richie off." bill says breathlessly. you laugh lightly - if only he knew.

© all content belongs to soulwillower 2020. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

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[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

sweet like the thunder on my tongue

pairing: willex

word count: 2786

tw for light swearing

It tumbles out of his mouth before he could even think about it: “But I don’t have any powers.”

Caleb smirks. “And who told you that?”

or, in which willie realizes his true strength.

taglist is in the reblogs, fic is under the cut!

—————

“Willie?”

The skater’s head pops up, cutting off the conversation he was having to look over at his boss.

“Can I see you for a moment? In my office?” Caleb gestures toward the stairwell.

Wordlessly, Willie follows him, only growing concerned when they walk right past the office and towards another room at the end of the hall which he’d never paid any mind to before. Was that door even there before? “Caleb, what’s going on?”

Caleb opened the door to the room and ushered him inside-- well, more shoved, but who is Willie to talk back to him right now-- while all Willie could do was look around and wait for Caleb to say something. The room was dark-- pitch black, actually, and he couldn’t see anything inside. He could now barely see his own hands, if not for the single hanging light above Caleb’s head as he stood in the hallway still, blocking the doorframe. With a wave of his fingers, Caleb pushed Willie down into some kind of, apparently, vantablack chair, metal clamps fastening around his wrists as soon as he reached the seat. Caleb leaned against the doorframe, seemingly inspecting his nails. “You’ve betrayed me, William.”

Willie steels himself, squeezing his eyelids shut, and replies, “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His efforts to cover his tracks were pitiful, to be completely honest. He wasn’t sure how much energy he had left at that point; before he’d met the band— before he’d met Alex— he thought that the best thing about the afterlife was that he could do what he wanted for as long as he wanted, day in and day out, as long as he came back to the club to do the shows. But now, his entire perspective has been shaken up, and he’s honestly gotten sick of doing the same things every single day. Why should he go see the same sights he’s seen since 1983 when he could be screaming in a museum, or stealing an entire fucking bus, or anything that can actually make a connection between him and another person?

Except, now he can’t even do that anymore. His connections are gone. They all crossed over (except for Julie, who never saw him in the first place), and he was left to his own devices, again. Willie isn’t sure what else there is for him to do, and in all transparency, if he hasn’t figured out his unfinished business yet, he doubts he ever will. Caleb putting him out of his misery now would probably just save him a lot of trouble.

“Don’t be coy,” Caleb jabs at him, standing up straight. “After all I’ve done for you? I gave you a place to stay, food to eat, things to do, and this is how you repay me? You help my recruits escape?”

Willie sighs, the helplessness beginning to overwhelm him. “What does it matter, anyway? They’ve crossed over, you don’t have competition anymore, right?”

“William, the boys are still out there. And they’ve lost their stamps.” Willie freezes. They lost their stamps? Alex is alive— or, at least, as alive as he can be? “Regardless, I have never been worried about competition. Those boys have power, power that could rival my own. I can’t just have that out there in the world, where it could fall into the wrong hands, now, can I?” Caleb sneers, a sickenly sweet smirk on his face.

Furrowing his brows, Willie rushes out in reply, “They’re playing in a pop rock band, they’re practically harmless, what could they even—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Caleb interrupts, his icy eyes boring into Willie’s own.

Willie shuts his mouth and swallows his nerves. And maybe his pride.

Caleb leans forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I can’t have anyone’s power rival my own. That would steal away my precious audience, my empire that I’ve built over the last hundred years. Every ghost in my club would otherwise be a threat to me, had they not signed away their powers when they sold me their souls. With their powers under my possession, I have full reign over any paranormal capabilities that this world could possibly hold.” He stands back up. “I’ve kept my enemies close, you could say.”

It tumbles out of his mouth before he could even think about it: “But I don’t have any powers.”

Caleb smirks. “And who told you that?”

Willie was looking right at him. He feels no need to answer, and even if he wanted to, his mouth is going dry and there’s a lump in his throat preventing him from doing anything other than remaining still.

“Don’t get your hopes up about the boys still being here, William,” Caleb says after a moment. “They won’t be when you get out.” He slams the door, leaving Willie in the room, with nothing but dark, dark, dark, alone.

***

“Alright, where’s our first stop?” Luke asks as Julie shrugs her backpack over her shoulder and takes a sip from her water bottle. She and the boys were walking down Sunset Boulevard, her with Airpods in so she could talk to the boys without getting odd looks from others. Julie was planning a sleepover with Flynn for the following night, and the boys jumped at the chance to help her run errands, since hanging out in the studio was getting a little boring.

“Can we stop for pizza? I know we can’t eat it, but at least I can smell it!” Reggie pleads, using his puppy dog eyes.

“Reg, that face only works on Luke and Alex. You can smell it tomorrow night when she’s over, yeah?” Julie jokes. “I was thinking—”

A dark, purple smoke appears in front of them, causing them to stumble and still themselves, the boys’ faces all paling once they realize who’s in front of them.

Caleb smiles, sickeningly sweet. “Hello, boys. And you must be Julie.”

***

He has powers.

Willie has powers, and he hadn’t known this entire fucking time.

This guy, who was supposed to be Willie’s mentor for the past, who knows, thirty-ish years now, who he had once looked up to, who had taken him in has his own, who had given him a way to keep track of time again, who somehow knew he had powers that he couldn’t manage on his own, did all of it for his own advantage. He used him to gain more power and control, while making Willie think he cared. Thirty fucking years.

Right now, he’s trapped in this room, yeah, but Willie feels more suffocated by the hurt and confusion surrounding him more than anything else. He can’t stand that Alex and the boys are probably out there right now, about to be destroyed by Caleb, because of him, again. He hates that nearly all of his afterlife has just been a giant fucking lie. And with these stupid new-but-not-really powers, he doesn’t even know where to start. So, he does what he knows best.

Willie screams.

He cries a bit too, but mostly he screams until his voice grows hoarse.

Ever since he passed away, he’s always loved the feeling that grows in his chest when he screams, knowing that he can just take up so much space without anyone (or at least, anyone important) hearing. It hurts sometimes, obviously, but really it just feels like lightning forming in his veins, sparking against his the walls of his skin, ready to burst through.

He doesn’t notice until he takes a gasp for air that this time, it actually has.

Willie gasps again, this time in shock. It’s a bright, brilliant green, wires of light darting across his fingertips and palms. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

Willie squeezes his eyes shut and makes two fists, willing the stinging of the lightning to go away by distracting himself with the stinging of his own fingernails. He realizes then that he’s created light, that he’s given himself a way out, so he reopens his hands and holds them out, looking for the door that Caleb had previously slammed. He spots it and moves to get up, almost forgetting about his arm braces. He curses under his breath, and begins to rack his brain for a way out of them, the green still dancing around his arms.

He screams again.

***

They’d been cornered into an alleyway, which was probably best for any bystander’s sanity, anyway, but it meant that they were trapped by Caleb. Again.

“What do you want with us?” Luke had asked when Caleb first appeared, walking in front of Julie with a guarding arm.

Caleb had sighed in reply, taking a step forward, “Oh, I’ve decided I don’t need you three anymore. You’re not of any use to me, not without your lifer by your side. Without a life source, you’re about as powerful as any other regular ghost. I just need her.”

Luke stood fully in front of Julie then, Reggie and Alex flanking him to protect her. “You will never get to her,” Alex had chimed in, ice in his tone.

“Bold statement from someone who still chooses to hide behind his friends.” Alex had looked down at his shoes in shame, face turning red. “Oh, don’t worry, we all know you’re not brave enough to take me on by yourself,” Caleb chuckled to himself. “Besides, you boys seem to have forgotten how powerful I am— or can we do without the reminder?” Caleb added, lifting his hand as a wisp of purple smoke curled around it.

Now, after putting up a decent fight, they stand against the building as dark purple webs tangle over them, effectively pinning them down. Julie strains against them as they burn into her skin, pointedly not looking at Caleb who is inches away. Caleb puts a finger to her chin, causing her to look into his eyes. Julie sucks on her teeth, willing herself not to cry any more than she already has. “Quite a shame that such talent, such heart has to go to waste,” Caleb says, before his hand begins to glow in a manner that Julie knows could only lead to her demise.

He’s interrupted, however, by a slew of car alarms going off. Caleb swivels his head to look over at the main road, now realizing that it’s… empty?

Almost moving to walk over, Caleb hesitates just enough for the webs’ strength to weaken, and the boys poof out of their hold. They immediately begin trying to pull the web of magic off of Julie, succeeding in doing so once they notice that Caleb’s attention is no longer on them. He’s in the road now, staring down the horizon line.

“He’s distracted now, let’s poof to the studio to buy some time,” Reggie says, but Luke quickly counters, “Julie can’t poof. We would have to go back down the road, anyway.”

While Luke and Reggie are trying to figure out what to do, Julie’s eyes stray over to Alex, who is now peering around the corner of the building, eyebrows furrowed. He suddenly runs over to the road, and Julie calls after him. The three run to catch up to Alex and stand in terror just a few feet behind Caleb, who is still seemingly frozen in place.

They feel it before they can see it.

The hair on their arms and the backs of their necks begin to stand on end, a quiet humming in the atmosphere causing an adrenaline rush kind of energy around them. The humming thrums into a pulse, concentrating around what Caleb must’ve been looking at; a sharp, sparking green light floating in the air down the road. It grows bigger and bigger, until a silhouette suddenly appears in its place, looking at the ground. “Hey, Caleb!”

Alex’s heart stops when he realizes who it is.

Willie looks up from the ground and begins to make his way over, thunderous step by thunderous step. His eyes shine fully in bright green, almost like the lightning inside of him was leaking out. He reaches forward and a beam of crackling light shoots forward, splitting and clasping itself around Caleb’s wrists in constraint. With rumbling intensity, Willie continues, “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me my entire afterlife, pretending to care. Every time you stamped someone, you told me it was because they would be dangerous otherwise, that you were just ‘protecting the ghost world’, and then you turn and do it to my friends. You’ve hurt me, you’ve hurt the people I care about, and it doesn’t even matter to you. I don’t even want to know the number of other ghosts you’ve screwed over like you have us.” Willie heaves in a breath, his arm beginning to shake as Caleb tries to overpower him with his own powers. “I can’t let you do this anymore.”

Caleb grits through his teeth, “You don’t get much of a say, William, I own you.”

“Not anymore.” Willie screams again, causing the beam shooting out of his palm to reinforce itself, the sparks around Caleb’s wrists slowly crawling around his skin until it looked like his veins were filled with light. “You aren’t strong enough to beat me, William, I know you more than you know yourself. You can’t do this,” Caleb tries, but Willie just screams louder, drowning him out.

The screams nearly shake the air, causing Julie to lean on Luke for support, with Reggie resting a hand on her shoulder. Alex wants to reach out, to do something, but he knows there’s nothing he really can do to help. He knew Willie was one of a kind, it was obvious from every interaction they’d had up to that point, but he never expected him to be that powerful. It was terrifying, if he was being honest. And Alex didn’t want to be scared of him, especially while he was literally putting his life on the line for them, but it was almost as if Willie was losing control.

Wait.

A small, dwindling purple smoke emits from Caleb’s palms, encircling the cuffs on his wrists, and the green light inside of him dims. Willie is panting in between his screams, running out of energy. Inhaling sharply, Alex doesn’t think twice before bolting over to him, ignoring the protests from his friends.

Alex stands behind him and grips his hands onto Willie’s shoulders, focusing all of his energy into his fingertips, just like he had on that day in the museum. And, just like that day, he screams with Willie, hoping and praying to a god he no longer believes in that it helps, that it works.

It does.

The lightning bursts out at a rapid speed, nearly enveloping Caleb, almost as if it was tearing him apart, atom by atom. It grows brighter, and brighter, and brighter, until—

He’s gone. Small ashes lie in the spot where Caleb once stood, now dissipated into thin air.

Willie collapses to the ground in exhaustion and Alex grasps onto him, as if he’ll disappear himself if he lets go. After a brief moment, Willie takes a sharp breath, wincing in a burning, stinging type of pain, and lets out a breath of relief once it goes away. He knows exactly what that was, he could feel it; his soul was finally back in his body.

Willie looks down at his wrist. The familiar stamp from the Hollywood Ghost Club is still there, however it no longer has its signature purple sheen. It’s black and faded now, like a thirty-year-old tattoo he’s come to regret.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, pulling away, his face the picture of worry. Willie notices then that Julie, Luke, and Reggie are knelt next to him, too, their own expressions almost as bad as Alex’s.

Willie smiles a sad smile. It’s a weak thing, but it’s genuine. “You’re still here.”

Recognition washes over Alex’s face, and he softly lifts his hand to Willie’s chin. “Of course I am. I told you, I’d follow you anywhere, yeah?”

Willie chuckles and ducks his head. “Yeah, well, somehow, you did.”

Alex lightly pulls on his chin so he can look him in the eye, a burning intensity present there that Willie hasn’t seen in, well, thirty years. “We can explain that later, okay? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Willie does a small nod. “I will be.”

Alex pulls him back into a tight hug, and Willie sinks into his arms. He knows they’ll both ask questions later; all that matters right now is that they’re there, that they’ve got each other.

And now, they always will.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

with this unruly heart of mine

in which we all wish our parents reacted the same way as Alcina does when one of her daughters comes out to her

title is from Unruly Hearts from The Prom because it fit

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

MERCUTIO

If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor. What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Alcina read that line over and over again, but she still had no idea what the hell any of it really meant. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions of her seat. If she kept getting caught up on the literary meaning of every other paragraph then she would never finish this damned book.

She picked up the teacup sitting on the stand beside her chair and took a long sip. The tea was of sweet cinnamon on her tongue. It left a much better taste in her mouth than the rather gross relationship between Romeo and Juliet in this book. If the short amount of time the two knew each other wasn’t bad enough, the age gap made her teeth bare and nose wrinkle in disgust. What the hell was this William Shakespeare guy thinking when he wrote this?

The soft sound of bare feet padding against hardwood brought her back to the surface of complete awareness, her focus shifting away from the book and to the late-night arrival watching nearby.

A certain fly child stood, arm on the doorway. Her hair was shaggy from seemingly just waking up--or maybe she hadn’t slept at all in the first place. Unruly blonde locks were sticking up in various directions around her head, framing her face like an adolescent lion’s mane. The nightgown she wore was a size too big and drowning her thin frame.

The light from the fireplace made her golden-amber eyes look hollow.

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

Slower than she’d ever seen her move before, Bela inched her way onto the cushioned chair beside Alcina’s. She pulled her knees up her chest, bare toes poking over the edge of the seat, and Alcina regarded them with a scrunch of her nose.

“What have I told you about going around the castle barefoot?” Alcina chided gently.

Bela didn’t look away from the flickering fire in the fireplace. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

Something was bothering her.

Bela was a rather fickle little thing. Some days, she wanted to tell Alcina everything, every little fact of the new knowledge she had obtained from her books, all the small details of her latest stories or ideas. Other days, she put up walls and gave vague answers to questions prodded into her sensitive skin, curling into herself like a frightened snail afraid of being interrogated. This seemed to be something of the latter, and Alcina made a mental note to tread lightly to avoid upsetting her daughter.

“I don’t understand this at all,” Alcina said, waggling the book in her hands, trying to make small talk with her distressed child. She didn’t want to pry and further put Bela on edge more than she clearly was, but she couldn’t not do something about her bitter mood. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t at least attempt to help with her kids’ problems?

“I can hardly make heads or tails of anything they’re saying,” she continued, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

Bela raised her head from her knees slightly. “What book is it?”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

There was a morbid snort. “How coincidental…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bela shook her head. “Lemme see. What part are you at?”

Alina pointed out the current line she had reread at least five times over without being able to discern the Shakespearean into modern-day language. Bela, however, looked it over once, scanned the other pieces of dialogue for context, nodded, then explained, “In this scene, Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio are sneaking into a party thrown by the Capulets by wearing masks to disguise themselves. Romeo is upset over Juliet and says he isn’t going to dance. Mercutio then teases him over this and turns all of Romeo’s words into gratuitous sexual metaphors to poke fun at him. Mercutio ends up going on this whole rant about Queen Mab of the fairies, who visits people in their dreams until Romeo and Benvolio cut in to get things back on track. Romeo also kinda foreshadows the entire play at one point. See? Right here: ‘I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels, and expire the term Of a despisèd life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death.’ I do believe that is hinting at his eventual fate of death.”

Alcina blinked at her for a moment before smiling fondly and rubbing her head. “Such a smart girl,” she cooed. “I could have never gotten that out of this .”

Bela smiled, but then it quickly disappeared, and she leaned back into her chair, curling up and watching the fire once again.

Now Alcina was really concerned. Bela was never one to let go of praise and affection so easily. Usually, she savored it a bit longer before moving onto something else, but here she was, brushing off Alcina’s words and touch as though they were nothing.

Something was very, very wrong.

However, before she had the chance to take the risk and attempt to ask questions, Bela spoke up.

“Have you ever been in love, Mother?”

Surprised, Alcina asked, “And what brought this up?”

Bela shrugged, not making eye contact. She kept looking at the fire as though she wanted to throw herself into it. Her voice was small, so small. “Just curious.”

“I see,” Alcina nodded. She looked up, thinking for a moment as she wracked her brain of the memories of her past life. “I have been in love before. Many times, actually.”

Bela gave her a curious look, finally pulling her gaze from the flames. “Really?”

“Indeed,” Alcina confirmed. “Though, I do believe that just comes with growing up. You gain lovers, you lose lovers. Some were real, some were fantasies I made up. Some lasted a few days, some a few months, some a few years.” She took a sip of her tea again. “None of them really mattered in the end, though. Clearly.” Another sip.

Bela nodded faintly. “Okay.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Alcina decided to ask.

Strangely, Bela went rigid. Her claws clenched around the sides of her calves as she stared forward with pupils that were constricted into pinpricks. Sweat beaded along the golden crown of her head.

“I-I-- umm…”

Alcina furrowed her eyebrows in worry. She closed Romeo and Juliet with a bookmark to mark her page, then set a hand on Bela’s back. Her daughter was trembling.

“Bela?” Alcina said, keeping her voice soothing and low to avoid setting off the poor girl even further. “Is everything alright? You don’t look well.”

“Yes, yes,” Bela answered her, much too quickly for it to be convincing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Before Alcina could prod further, Bela shot up to her feet. She began to chew on one of her claws, flexing her free hand at her side in visible agitation. Pieces of her skin broke off into flies and buzzed around her head madly. She seemed to be dissociating in panic.

“Bela,” Alcina rose to her feet slowly, not wanting to accidentally frighten her daughter. “Bela, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bela said, even when she was so obviously far from fine. Her chest was beginning to heave.

“Darling,” Alcina said, and that seemed to get Bela to crack a bit.

With a tight whimper, Bela shook her head. “Hard-- hard to breathe--”

Instantly, Alcina loosely took Bela by the arms and lowered her to the ground. In the firelight, she could see the pallor of her daughter’s increasing panic as it morphed into a complete attack on her anxiety. Bela grabbed her wrists with her claws dug in for desperate grounding, and Alcina let her, even when it stung her skin. Her comfort was far from important in that moment.

“Alright, honey,” Alcina said. “We’re going to do the thing we’ve been practicing, alright? Do you think you can do it?”

Wordlessly, Bela nodded.

“That’s my strong girl,” Alcina said. “Alright, give me five things you can see.”

“Y-you,” Bela stammered. The words shook when they left her lips. “Your hair’s kinda bushy.”

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “Thank you for pointing that out, Bela.”

Bela’s fight instantly gave in at that and she hunched her shoulders in, looking ashamed. Quick to correct herself, Alcina lifted her chin so they could make eye contact.

“I was only teasing you, honey,” Alcina said. “Keep going.”

Bela nodded. “The fire; it’s really pretty. Your-- your, umm, chair; it looks soft. The book; not the best of Shakespeare’s works. And, ah-- the teacup; it has doves on it.”

“Very good,” Alcina praised. “Four things you can feel.”

“The fire’s-- the fire’s warmth. My heart in-- my heart in my throat. The floor under me; I should have worn socks.”

“I told you,” Alcina cut in playfully.

Bela swallowed thickly. “A-and, umm-- and my anxiety. It’s like a Lycan in my chest.”

Alcina frowned at that but quickly wiped it off her face for now. She stroked Bela’s cheek, gaining a spark of hope when Bela leaned into her hand.

“I feel you, too,” Bela said.

“You only needed to name five, little moth,” Alcina said, bopping her on the nose.

Bela just shrugged.

“But you’re doing so well. Can you give me three things you can hear?”

“My heartbeat in my ears; it sounds like thunder. I don’t like thunder. Umm-- the fire crackling; I like that. And-- and a raven outside. I think that’s Merlin. His cawing is kinda raspier than the other birds’. I think he may have hurt his throat at some point.”

A small smile grew onto Alcina’s lips. She continued caressing Bela’s cheek as she talked to her. “Now two things you can smell.”

“Fear,” Bela said almost instantly. Her nose twitched. “I smell fear.”

Alcina could smell it, too. The thickened dread wafting off of her shaken daughter was acrid, bitter, and unsettling.

“Umm--” Bela’s claws fidgeted, clicking against each other softly. “And your tea. Smells like cinnamon. Cinnamon makes me sneeze.”

“One more. One thing you can taste.”

“Fear.”

“Fear?” Alcina echoed, one eyebrow raised. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“What does fear taste like?”

Bela stared down at her claws, which she splayed open before herself. “It-- it has a slightly dull metallic taste that’s mixed with urea, I think. Sometimes it tastes like popping a bloody, pus-filled blister in your mouth and squeezing every drop out with your teeth and savoring it on your tongue. Sucking the wound clean and swallowing it down.” She clenched her fists. “But it doesn’t get clean. It doesn’t dry out. The blister just keeps oozing and oozing until all the discharge comes pouring out of your mouth, but even then it doesn’t stop. Because you can’t force it all down. You can’t just swallow and think it’s done. That’s not how anxiety works. It keeps coming, even when you thought it was gone, and it leaves behind this awful flavor of bitter bile. It’s acidic, too, you know? It melts your chest and stomach and makes you feel like you’re sinking in your own skin.” She looked up at Alcina, and her eyes were shiny and blank. “I taste fear, Mother.”

There was silence between them for just a moment. Bela wasn’t looking at Alcina anymore; she seemed to think the floor was very interesting at that moment. Alcina was still considering her daughter’s dark words, replaying them over and over again until the subtle taste of sour gall spread across her tongue. She swallowed it down and winced when it drooled over the back of her throat like rancid molasses.

“You did it, baby,” Alcina finally said, smiling despite her worry, despite the flavor of fear in her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Bela just nodded. Though she was no longer having a panic attack, she didn’t seem any less upset. Alcina considered letting it go, especially after just having calmed her down, but if something was bothering her daughter so much that she couldn’t breathe when she thought about it too hard, she knew she couldn’t just leave it be. It could escalate into something much, much worse, and she knew damn well that Bela was willing to go to such extremes, if her explanation of fear and the way she kept looking at the fire wasn’t enough proof of that.

“Now,” Alcina saw Bela tense, but she plunged anyway. “I need you to tell me what’s bothering you so I can help.”

Bela shook her head with a strangled whimper.  “I can’t tell you.”

“Bela, I’m your mother. You can tell me anything.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you.”

Bela was quiet. Then, slowly, she dragged her gaze up to Alcina. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, Bela. I would never hate you.”

Bela nodded. “Okay.” Her claws clenched into fists against the floorboards, knuckles shaking and turning white. She took several deep breaths before forcing out, “I-- I don’t-- I don’t like people like that. Like how I’m supposed to.”

Silence.

Tears flowed freely from Bela’s eyes and she choked on a sob. Her head hung in shame as her entire body quaked. The poor girl looked terrified, and the sight hit Alcina right in the heart--though she didn’t quite get it.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

“No, no-- you don’t understand,” Bela’s breath was coming out thin and raspy again. She sat up straight, claws now knotted in her nightgown, tensing and pulling. “I don’t-- I don’t like people, Mama. The way other people do. The way everyone does. I’ve-- I’ve tried, but--” She cut herself off with a whimper, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Alcina asked. Trying to discern Bela’s vague words was like trying to discern Shakespearean. “Do you think you can explain it to me, hun? Like you did with the book and the fear. I want to help you.”

Bela sniffled, then nodded. “I-- I, umm-- I don’t feel anything towards people. Like-- like that. Romantically. And sexually.”

Finally, it dawned on Alcina.

“When I read those cheesy romance books Daniela likes, I don’t get the characters’ feelings at all. Just the thought of being in a relationship like that makes me so uncomfortable and I don’t know why, and that scares me, Mama.” Bela continued, her anguish oozing into every word she spoke. “I don’t like the thought of being tied down to someone like that, but it still feels like something has been stolen from me. That promise of a future with true love and marriage and a fairy tale ending that Daniela always talks about is gone, even though I still want it. Or, at least, I think I want it. I don’t know what I want.” She sniffled, looking miserable. “It’s the same for sexual stuff. When I come to scenes with sex in them in books, it makes my skin feel all weird, like severed hands are crawling all over my body. I get embarrassed and awkward and uneasy, and I don’t understand that, either. It just makes me feel so sick to my stomach.”

There was a pause. Bela was taking several shallow breaths and digging her claws into her legs, so Alcina reached out and took one of her hands, stroking her knuckles with her thumbs.

“Breathe, baby,” Alcina murmured. “Breathe.”

“I’ve-- I’ve tried to force myself to be like everyone else before,” Bela said unexpectedly.

Taken aback, Alcina said, “What?”

Bela swallowed thickly. “With-- with a maiden. You know how I am with them- too nice, too polite. I befriended one of them. We were kinda close. After a while, she started making moves on me. I knew what she wanted for so long, but I kept avoiding it because I was uncomfortable or scared. But then I had this revelation: maybe if I did this with her, I would finally feel something! I would be like everyone else! So I did. With her. And I didn’t like it.”

“Bela…”

“It hurt,” Bela whispered. “Like I was being scraped raw. Or my body was being turned inside out. I felt so sick. Humiliatingly, I started crying during it, but I don’t think she noticed. If she did, she didn’t stop. Not until she was finished. When she was, I threw up after she left. I was so sore.” Alcina squeezed her hand, and she sucked in a sharp breath, “But-- but I had to have liked it! I got, umm--” Her cheeks began to turn red with embarrassment, though Alcina didn’t blame her. Having to explain your sex life to your mother would be awkward for anyone. “I got…wet. And-- and that happens when you’re aroused! So-- so I do like sexual stuff!”

“Oh, sweetie…” Alcina sighed sadly.

Bela hunched her shoulders in. “R-right?”

“Honey, ‘getting wet’ doesn’t always mean you’re aroused,” Alcina said gently. “Simply viewing something erotic, like a naked woman, for example, could trigger this bodily response. It’s also a way for the vagina to lubricate itself to help dull the pain of penetration. You can be in a sexual situation and be wet, but not want to have sex. That’s completely normal and one hundred percent okay.” She lifted her hands to cup Bela’s cheeks. “Wetness is not an acceptable body language for consent. Who were you trying to convince: the maiden or yourself?”

Bela stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and damp, breath hitched in the back of her throat. Then, she began shaking her head, pulling her hair, and weeping, “No, no-- I wanted it, I wanted it-- I know I did. I’m normal, I’m normal--”

It was truly heartbreaking to see her child in such a way. Bela seemed downright devastated over her own sexuality, to the point where she thought she was disgusting and unnatural for something that was actually completely normal.

Taking her daughter’s hands to keep her from hurting herself, Alcina went to say something, but Bela cut her off, getting to the words first.

“What’s wrong with me?!” Bela cried. “Why-- why am I like this, Mama? Am I broken? Am I heartless? I-- I love you and Cassandra and Daniela! I love Uncle Karl and Uncle Moreau and Auntie Donna and Angie and the Duke! I love reading and animals and writing, but-- but when I-- when I try to-- when it comes to sex and romance, I--” She finally gave up and sobbed.

“Oh, Bela,” Alcina said sadly. “Oh, my poor, sweet girl…” She pulled Bela into her lap and held her close, rocking her back and forth to help comfort her. Her fingers gently ran through Bela’s messy hair. “Shh, shh… You aren’t broken or heartless, sweetheart. This is an okay thing to feel.”

“You-- you don’t think I’m wrong?”

Alcina’s heart twisted at the way Bela looked up at her to say that, her eyes holding so much sadness and pain. She tucked her daughter’s head back under her chin and tightened the embrace.

“Absolutely not. Do you think you are?”

Bela answered in a strangled whimper. Alcina couldn’t help but wonder what put such a thought in her daughter’s brain--though, this was Bela she was dealing with. her anxiety was a wild, bestial thing that made her worry about the most obscene things.

“Did you really think this would change anything?” Alcina asked. “That I could ever possibly love you any less?”

Bela shrugged weakly.

“I-I just…”

That deep shame from before seemed to return and Bela’s head dipped. Alcina felt like she was going to try and pull away, so she tightened the embrace and used one hand to lift the girl’s chin.

“Hey, hey,” Alcina murmured, brushing away fresh tears on Bela’s cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this, sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with you, either. And if anyone says otherwise, tell me. I’ll eviscerate them.”

That got a tiny, watery giggle out of Bela.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Alcina went on. “Sex and romantic relationships… They aren’t for everyone. And that’s okay. It certainly doesn’t make you broken or heartless.”

“B-but--”

“Hun, look at me. Do I really look like someone who will judge you for being this way?”

Bela shrugged a little. Her little body seemed to have exhausted itself of all its efforts to argue.

Alcina rocked her gently, stroking her hair the way she knew she liked it. “How about I explain something to you, hm?”

Bela looked up at her blearily.

“Your love may not be arousing or romantic, but you want to know what it is like?”

“What?” Bela asked softly.

“Your love is warm and fuzzy, like being wrapped in a blanket during a blizzard. It’s safe and reassuring. Your love is security and shelter. Your love is noticing all the little details, like my bushy hair because it’s late at night or your Uncle Karl’s finger twitching because he’s nervous at the meetings with Mother Miranda but is trying to hide it or Cassandra’s leg bouncing because she’s full of pent up, restless energy. Your love is knowing what makes each of us tick and doing everything in your power to make us feel better when we’re upset. Your love is like the first flower showing up in the snow as winter melts away and the beginning flickers of a tender flame and the gentle fluttering of bird wings.” Alcina let out a soft laugh. “I’m nowhere near as good at details as you are, my darling. But, most importantly, your love is normal and natural and what makes you you. And you shouldn’t have to try and change that for anyone, no matter what.”

Bela stared up at her in silenced awe, tears trickling down her cheeks. Alcina squeezed her reassuringly.

“I want you to know that I’ll always support you, okay?” Alcina said. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Bela nodded, hiccuping softly. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through tiny whimpers. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bela,” Alcina said. She kissed the top of Bela’s head and purred to her softly. “My perfect, perfect girl.”

[evening-starlight]

Daddy’s Best Friend

I’ve gotten really into this story so updates are coming in QUICK

All Work Master List

DBF Master List

5

Word Count: 1942

    "Armel?" Amaris asks, shock taking over her face as her ex stands in front of her, in New York with that precious smile that made her fall for him in the first place. "How.." She shakes her head to try and get her bearings. "How did you find me?"

    Armel chuckles, tilting his head to the side as he answers, "You're not as secretive as you think you are, Mon Amour. There are many Amaris Clarke, but only one you." Amaris blushes at the pet name he gave her in Paris the second day they knew each other.

    Their romance started fast, meeting in the cafe she frequented, and he worked at. He bought her a coffee when he left his shift, writing his number on the cup before setting it down and leaving without a word. They toured France together, Armel showing Amaris his birth town and beautiful places tourists don't frequent. He took her breath away from the very first day, but nobody could keep her attention as long as Tom could.

    Amaris says she broke up with Armel because she didn't want him to see the lifestyle America thinks she leads, but deep down, it was because he wasn't Tom. She won't admit it to herself yet.

    "Oh, come in, come in." Amaris gestures, opening the door wider for Armel and his one black suitcase. "Why.. why'd you come?" She asks after the door is closed behind the brunette.

    "Who could leave such a smile without a fight?" Armel asks in a thick French accent, laying a soft hand on her cheek with a faint smile on his face. "I did as you did. I got a study program at, uh," He thinks over the college name. "Ehn-yu?"

    "NYU?" Amaris corrects. He nods with a bright smile.

    "Oui." Armel steps closer to Amaris, hand still on her face. "You are a treasure, Mon Amour. I was depressed when you left and remembered, 'ah-hah,'" He acts out his thought process with a finger up in the air, something Amaris found endearing about him. "She adores romance. Hence," He gestures himself up and down, then to her. "New York."

    "Who the hell is at the door?" Danica yells, entering the foyer with a huff. Her tone changes quickly when she sees the handsome french man in the front. She smoothes out her wrinkled pajamas and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "Oh, hello there." Danica walks towards them and offers a hand to Armel. "I'm Danica. And you are?"

    Armel takes Danica's hand and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, causing the twenty-year-old to giggle like a schoolgirl.

    "Armel. I am Amaris's..."

    "Friend from Paris," Amaris interrupts Armel, not wanting to explain their complicated relationship just yet. "He flew in to surprise me." Danica eyes Armel up and down, a flirty look evident on her face. Amaris rolls her eyes, slightly annoyed her younger sister is trying to flirt with a boy she met first.

    Danica shifts her focus back to the eldest sibling. "Your omelet is getting cold. So if you want to lose, stay out here talking to this cute guy." Amaris sighs and slips her hand into Armel's.

    "Grab him a fork; I want him to taste the monstrosity you call food." Danica sticks her tongue out at her and skips off to the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, but you're about to meet my family." Armel shrugs, tightening his grip on Amaris's hand like if he lets go, she'll leave once again.

    "I assume. This is family house." Amaris giggles at his broken English. He wasn't fluent but knew more than enough to get by with her family. They start walking towards the kitchen, where Amaris can hear Juno and Danica arguing how only siblings can over which fork is better. "Is omelet the one I taught you?" Armel asks as they get closer to the kitchen.

    "Of course, Cherie," Armaris slips back into the habit of calling him pet names. They get to the kitchen, and all eyes fall on them. "Guys, this is Armel. He's a friend from Paris who came to surprise me. He's gotten into study abroad with NYU." William stands up, sizing up the boy who's holding his daughter's hand. He offers a hand to Armel, who shakes it without hesitation and a bright smile.

    "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Clarke. Amaris tells me much about you," Armel greets. William makes eye contact with Amaris, giving a slight nod. That was his seal of temporary approval. Armel made a good first impression on her dad, but the support can always be revoked.

    "Please, call me Will, son. Take a seat," Will offers, motioning to a seat next to Juno.

    "That's my dad's friend, Tom," Amaris starts to introduce her little family in order from right to left. "You already met the witch herself," She teases as she gestures to her sister.

    "Hey," Danica huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. Before she can retort, Amaris moves on.

    "Dad, and my youngest sibling, Juno." Juno gives a small wave, backing deeper into the chair behind them. They didn't like meeting new people when they know nothing about Juno and their situation. They'd much rather disappear. Although, if it was Amaris's friend, they should be alright.

    "Pleasure to meet you all," Armel smiles before taking his seat next to Juno. Tom looks the boy up and down. Of course, Armel was exactly Armais's type. Curly, tall, French. She always had a weakness for french accents; she's admitted as much herself. But why did she introduce her ex as a friend? Was Tom the only one who knew they were together in Paris?

    "Okay, try the next one," Danica shifts attention to the breakfast judging. When everyone took their first bite, their eyes roll back, and food-related moans leave them. "Oh, that's bullshit," Dancia fights, taking out a fork and trying a bite herself. She moans as well, followed by, "Fuck."

    "Armel, try the other one," Amaris suggests, handing him the plate. She obviously won, but she had to win fair and square. Armel takes a bite of Danica's omelet. It was tasty but not as delicious as Amaris's. "Alright, so who wins?" Amaris asks, already knowing the answer from the reactions she got.

    "Oh shut up, Mari. We all know your stupid omelet won." Danica pouts, including the jutted-out bottom lip. Everyone agrees the one on the red plate was superior. Amaris laughs with her hands in the air.

    "Those cooking lessons paid, did they not?" Armel asks, leaning on the counter with the damned smile that makes Amaris lose her breath every time. Danica gasps.

    "That's not fair! You had Paris cooking lessons," Danica complains. Amaris shrugs as she reaches for the orange juice she set out earlier. "I demand a recount with the new information." Amaris rolls her eyes as she brings the cup to her lips.

    "If my apartment is cooking lessons, Oui," Armel inputs, causing Amaris to choke on her sip. Danica looks between the two ex's, slowly putting two and two together.

    "Holy fuck, you two fucked didn't you?" Amaris starts to blush furiously, confirming Danica's suspicions. "Oh my God." Danica looks over Armel one more time. "I mean, I don't blame you, but ew," Danica continues her dramatic 'ews.'

    "Are you done now?" Amaris huffs, burning up from being under the spotlight. Danica holds up a waiting finger and throws out three more ew's for good measure. "You done?" Amaris asks again.

    "And finally, ewww." She pauses. "Now I'm finished." Danica smiles a pleased smile. She loves to torment her older sister, especially in front of the boys she likes. But, unbeknownst to Danica, she embarrassed her sister in front of two boys she likes.

    "You're the most annoying sister on the face of the planet," Amaris complains, starting the breakfast clean-up, picking up the empty plates that Juno and Dad finished off.

    "So you're saying I have to be more annoying than the annoying sisters in the center of the earth?" Danica quips, laughing at the murderous look Amaris shoots at her.

    "I literally hate you more than Cleo," Amaris mumbles as she moves around Danica towards Armel. "We're gonna be outside talking." She states quickly before grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall and out the double french doors.

    "They do not know?" Armel asks once the door is closed behind them. Amaris shakes her head, leading Armel to the lounge chairs. "Why?"

    "I didn't know how to tell them I dated a boy they didn't know about for a year and left him in France." She shrugs, pulling her legs onto the chair so she could sit criss-cross. Armel nods, picking at his cuticles and avoiding her stare. "So, why'd you come looking for me?"

    Armel looks up at her, lips tight. He brushes a stray curl out of his face before confessing his love in French. Amaris stares back at him. They promised they wouldn't say those words unless they were truly meant, with the fact that she would be leaving in less than a year when they met. "I've searched a thousand lifetimes for a woman like you, Amaris. That's no thing to let go." Amaris feels guilty for feeling the joy she feels.

    Tom would never make a move on her; he has too much respect for William to take that chance. But it still feels like cheating to Amaris after he kissed her just the night before. Or maybe she felt guilty because she didn't feel guilty when she kissed Tom.

    Amaris repeats the confession in the same language Armel did, smiling when Armel jumps up and plants a passionate kiss on her lips. They kiss for a second before they hear someone clear their throat behind Armel.

    William stands there, hands across his chest looking strict, but really his heart was filling with pride and happiness for his daughter. From first impressions, this was a wonderful boy for his daughter. She deserved nothing but the best after her rough start in life without a mother figure helping her with the boy problems that came in her teen years.

    "Hi, Dad," Amaris draws out. Armel walks over to him, hands clasped in front of him in a begging pose.

    "Mr. Clarke, sir. I ask your blessing to date your wonderful daughter," Amaris covers her mouth with a finger to stop from laughing out loud at Armel's antics. Will looks back at his daughter with a raised eyebrow and smirk. He loved this kid instantly.

    "Only if you promise to treat her right," Will states in his best father voice he can muster at the pleading boy in front of her.

    "Of course, of course. Amaris is a goddess and deserves the world. I will give her as much as I can," Armel continues to gush. Will sets a hand on Armel's shoulder, smiling at the boy.

    "You have my blessing, Armel. I expect you at family dinner this Wednesday." Will says before walking back inside. Armel throws his hands up in the air like he won a championship boxing match and turns to Amaris, who continues to giggle at the scene that unfolded.

    Tom stands in the living room window, watching the blessing happen and feeling a pang of... jealousy? Why would she choose a kid when she could have a man like him? Tom shakes the thoughts out of his when he sees them kiss yet again. He should be happy that she found someone who made her giggle like that. So, why does he feel angry?

Taglist: @queenofallhobos​

[writing-imagines]

Jealousy // An Ellie Williams imagine

Possible warnings: drinking, jealousy, pettiness (?), Dina and Jesse are really the only spoilers

Request: Hey!! I was wondering if you could maybe write something where ellie is jealous because the reader has been hanging out with Jesse or Dina a lot. Maybe end it angsty or fluffy (idk it’s up to you (: )

Life in the apocalypse wasn’t easy by any means. You had to face the fact that anytime you left the safety of Jackson’s walls, you could easily be killed. Having to face that fact everyday really took a toll on those who understood it. While yes, you we’re born into the cordyceps infected world and didn’t know much about the world before it, you still struggled standing on death’s doorstep every day. That’s why any chance you got to let lose, you took full advantage.

You sat at the bar, beer in hand, and enjoyed the couples dancing. Some were really good and others were terrible, but they were all having a good time and that’s what made it entertaining. As you went to take another sip of your beer, the bottle was swiftly removed from your hand. Your head quickly shot up and towards your now empty hand. That’s when you found the culprit.

“You think just because you’re my patrol partner you can take my beer?” You raised an eyebrow, making Dina laugh.

“Listen, I just danced my heart out. I deserve a drink.” She smiled behind the bottle before finishing it.

“Seth, we need two more down here.” She half yelled while waving an arm. The old man nodded and pulled out two beer bottles.

“You gonna trade anything for these, Dina?”

“Put them on my tab.” Dina winked at Seth, causing the old man to roll his eyes.

“Cheers to surviving another patrol.”

“To surviving another patrol.” You clanked your bottles together before drinking. The two of you sat and watched the dancers for a few minutes until Dina sat up straight.

“Hey, your girlfriend is here.” She pointed across the room to the open door. You had to look around a few people, but you eventually saw Ellie’s red flannel.

“I’ll be back. Don’t drink my beer!”

You jumped off the barstool and made a beeline to your girlfriend. You almost ran into a few dancing couples, but you eventually made it to Ellie. Without hesitation, you pulled her into a bear hug.

“Hey! I didn’t think you were coming.” You loosened the hug ever so slightly so you could look at your girlfriend.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I missed you and I knew you’d be here.”

“I missed you too, babe. Come on, I already have a spot at the bar.” You let go of Ellie only to grab her hand and drag her across the dance floor and to the bar.

“Babe, take my seat.” You gestured to the barstool next to Dina and she accepted. You sat down beside Ellie and gently placed your hand on her back.

“Hey Ellie. Didn’t think we’d see you here.” Dina greeted while swirling her beer around.

“Yeah, I wanted to hang out with y/n for a little bit. We may live together, but we don’t see each other much.”

“Why is that? Y/n, your dad runs the scheduling. Why don’t you have him put you two on the same schedule?” Dina raised her eyebrow at you while finishing off her beer.

“My dad does the scheduling for the jobs around town. Maria is the one who does patrols.”

“Then talk to your stepmom about getting you two together! All the other couples work together if they want to. You should be no exception. Seth, I need two more beers! Ellie, you drink beer, right?”

“Not tonight. I have early morning patrol tomorrow.”

“Y/n, you need another one?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Awesome! Seth, where are my beers?” Dina got up and marched to the other end of the bar where Seth was defiantly hiding from her. You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend.

“She’s something else.” You took a sip of your drink, officially finishing it. When Ellie didn’t respond, you noticed the mild scowl on her face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Are you two going to get hammered again?” Her tone said it all. Ellie was pissed.

“I was hoping to have a few drinks, yeah.”

“Okay. Just don’t be obnoxious when you come home. I’m not cleaning up your mess again.” Before you could respond, Dina came back and handed you another beer.

“Thanks Dina.”

“No problem. So Ellie, how’s the North lookout treating you? I’ve heard there’s a lot of infected out there.”

“It’s good. There’s defiantly...”

You tuned out their conversation. She probably didn’t mean to, but Ellie kind of ruined your night with that comment. Most of your time spent with Dina was on patrol, so, you were really looking forward to enjoying the night in the safety of Jackson. You sat quietly and continued to drink a few more beers while Ellie and Dina caught up with each other. Just as you finished your drink, one of your favorite songs came over the loud speakers. At that point, you had just enough to forget Ellie was mad at you and vice versa.

“I love this song. Will you dance with me?” You held Ellie’s hand and looked at her with hopeful eyes. You knew Ellie wasn’t a big fan of dancing, especially to fast songs, but you thought maybe she would try it for you.

“Oh no, I can’t. I’m terrible at dancing.”

“Come on, babe. Pleaseeee.” You held her hand a little tighter and tried to work your puppy dog eyes.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Come on, y/n. I’ll dance with you.”

Dina jumped up and quickly pulled you onto the dance floor. You and Dina immediately started jumping around and dancing like idiots. You didn’t care how stupid you looked flailing around, you were having so much fun. The song eventually ended and you and Dina fell into each other, both of you laughing uncontrollably and getting a ton of strange looks. You wrapped an arm around each other and swayed back to the bar.

“Man, I love you, y/n. Seriously. You’re one of the best people I know.” Dina slapped your shoulder before leaning against the bar.

“I love you too, D. I-hey, where’d Ellie go?” You quickly spun around and tried to find her in that red flannel.

“She left. Looked pretty upset too.” The guy sitting on the other side of Dina said. Those words were enough to block most of the alcohol in your body. Dina looked at you with a slightly concerned look.

“Looks like you better go find your girl. Can you make it home okay?”

“Yeah. Can you?”

“I’ll be fine. Go get your girl.” Dina slapped your shoulder again before you ran off.

You stumbled through the crowd and eventually out the door. Things started spinning a little, but you had made the exact same walk a dozen times. The only thing that really posed a threat was the wet leaves everywhere. But, you knew you’d be fine if you fell. It took a little time, but you eventually found your way past the mini greenhouses and to Ellie’s. Without hesitation, you opened the door and nearly tumbled in. Once inside, you saw the most heart breaking sight. Ellie was sitting on her bed, head in her hands and trying not to cry.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” You tried to sit down beside her, but Ellie quickly stood up. Her eyes were red and puffy, causing a ache to settle in your chest.

“What’s wrong? Something is going on between you and Dina. That’s what’s wrong.” Your eyes widened at the accusation.

“Ellie, what are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and Dina.”

“You think I haven’t picked up on how you two have been acting these past few weeks? You specially requested her to be your new patrol partner, you always get home late from patrols, and you were just flirting with each other at the bar.” Ellie fought back tears as she spoke. Every word sounded like it was her breaking point. You slowly stood up and stepped towards your girlfriend. Much to your surprise, she let you hold her hands and looked you in the eyes.

“Ellie, babe, Dina has been my friend for years. Hell, she’s practically my sister at this point. There’s nothing going on between us. You have nothing to worry about. I swear. You’re the only one I love.” Ellie pulled her hands out of your lose grasp and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You two haven’t spent this much time together since I’ve known you. If nothing is going on, what’s caused you two to spend so much time together recently?” Her tone changed from heartbroken to even more accusatory and that didn’t sit well with you.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she broke up with Jesse and has a little more free time?” You shrugged, genuinely not knowing (or caring) why Dina was spending more time with you. Ellie dropped her arms to her sides before shrugging.

“Okay, fine.” Her tone wasn’t very convincing and you knew she was annoyed. She tried to playoff her annoyance by casually walking to the dresser and pulling out her sleep clothes.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, I do.” Once again, Ellie’s tone wasn’t convincing. If anything it conveyed more annoyance.

“Fine.” You walked over to the desk and grabbed your backpack for overnight patrols. You could feel your girlfriend’s eyes on you as you gathered your own sleep clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to stay at my dad’s. I think we need some time apart.” Your tone was harsh, probably the harshest it had ever been with Ellie. You could tell she was worried now.

“You don’t have to do that. We can keep talking this out.”

“What’s the point? You obviously don’t believe me. I can put up with a lot, but I refuse to sleep next to someone who thinks I’m a liar.”

“I don’t think you’re a liar, y/n. Please, put the bag down and let’s talk.” Now her tone was laced with worry as you put on your flannel shirt.

“No. I can’t be around you right now, Ellie.” All bets of you staying where off when you opened the door.

“Please don’t go. I want you here.” The ache settled in your chest again when you heard the hurt in her voice. You took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Love you.”

You stepped out into the cold fall night again and made your way to the other side of Jackson. You couldn’t help but notice all the looks you were getting as you walked down the street. After what felt like an eternity, you reached the doorstep of your former home. You softly knocked, hoping your dad would answer.

“Hi y/n. What are you doing here this late?” Maria asked, already in her robe for the night.

“Hey Maria. I um...I was wondering if I could talk to my dad.” You watched as her eyes landed on your backpack.

“Of course. Come inside it’s cold. Tommy, y/n is here for you!” She stepped to the side, allowing you to walk inside the house. Maria placed her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Is this something you want me to hear? I know how you feel about people knowing your business.”

“It’s nothing personal. This-” she placed her hand up, effectively shutting you up.

“I’ll let you two have your talk. Let me know if you need anything.” Maria walked into the kitchen, leaving you alone until your dad walked downstairs.

“Kiddo, what are you doing here?” Tommy asked as he held his arms out and pulled you into a hug.

“Hey Dad. Do you think I could stay here for the night? Ellie and I kind of got into a fight.” Even though Maria was in another room, you found yourself whispering. Tommy quickly pulled away, his smile was replaced by a puzzled look.

“Of course you can. Is everything okay between you two?”

“I don’t know.” That lump in your throat returned and you try to hold back your unexpected tears.

“Hey, it’s okay. Did you eat dinner?”

“No, but I’m not hungry. I really want to lay down actually.”

“Okay. Here, I’ll take your bag.”

Tommy helped slip the bag off your shoulders and started towards the stairs. You followed him even though you knew where he was going. You followed him upstairs and down the hallway to the last door on the right.

“We haven’t changed it since you moved out.” Your dad opened the door, revealing your childhood bedroom. He wasn’t lying, everything still looked like you remembered.

“Brings back memories.” You couldn’t help but smile as memories from your childhood and teenage years came flooding back.

“You remember that time Dina put her foot through the wall?” Tommy walked over to the far side of the room and pointed at a discolored portion of blue paint.

“Yeah. She was trying to do a handstand and fell backwards.” You both chuckled at the memory, but your smile faded when you remembered why you were back in your childhood bedroom.

“Man, you two were always getting into something when you were younger.” He said with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, we always had a good time.” You sat down on your old mattress and let out a sigh. Tommy walked back to you and carefully sat down on the bed.

“You wanna tell me what happened with Ellie?”

“She thinks something is going on between me and Dina because we’ve been spending more time together. I told Ellie I didn’t love Dina, I only loved her. I could tell she didn’t believe me and that made me mad. So, I packed my bag and I came here because I didn’t want to be around someone who thinks I’m a liar.” You let out a sniffle as a tears attempted to roll down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away and looked down at the old hardwood floor.

“Kiddo, I’m sure Ellie doesn’t think you’re a liar. She’s probably just really upset at the moment. You both need to cool off for a minute and then talk this out.” Tommy wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you a little closer.

“I don’t understand. I used to run around with Dina for days and Ellie was fine with it. What changed?”

“That’s something you’re going to have to ask her yourself. Remember, that girls been through a lot, more than anyone should ever have to go through. If you both take your time and be patient with each other this will all be fixed.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. It’s the look of love if I’ve ever seen it.” That made you feel a sense of pride, enough to make you smile a little.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No need to thank me. This is just part of parenthood. Now, I’m going to leave you alone so I can get some sleep.” Your dad lightly tapped your shoulder in an attempt to be supportive before slowly standing up.

“Jesus the bed is hard. Good luck sleeping on it.”

“I slept on it for years. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Night, kiddo. Sleep tight.”

“Night, Dad.”

Tommy finally left your room, closing the door behind him. You let out a sigh and actually felt a little better, albeit tired. You decided to change into your sleep clothes while you still felt a little better about the situation. You had to admit that it felt weird doing your nighttime routine without Ellie there to make conversation with. Once you were changed, you slid into the old bed and hoped to get some sleep.

Instead of falling asleep right away, you thought of the first time Ellie snuck over. You were fifteen and she wanted to show you a knife she found while on patrol. She ended up sleeping over and you two talked about anything and everything. That was the first time you felt feelings towards her. The painful ache returned to your chest the longer you thought about it. You forced yourself to shut your brain off and eventually fall asleep.

You woke up the next morning with a mild headache and a growling stomach. With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed and out into the hallway. Just before you reached the stairs you heard Joel’s voice. You tiptoed closer to the stairs until you could barely see your dad and uncle at the kitchen table.

“So, Ellie’s pretty heartbroken about this?” Your dad questioned while eating his breakfast.

“Yeah, she is. She showed up on my doorstep at one in the morning and asked to talk for a bit. She hasn’t wanted to talk to me like that in years.”

“What did she have to say?”

“She said she was really upset about y/n leaving. Felt like crying for a while, but decided to talk to someone instead. She talked about some other stuff too.” Joel paused and took a drink from his mug.

“Like what, Joel?”

“You know, getting married and moving out of the garage. She thought they were ready for that, but this little mess has her thinking otherwise.”

You had to stop yourself from gasping at that revelation. You knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Ellie and move out of the garage someday, but you had no idea she actually wanted to get married. Realizing the severity of this small fight increased tenfold, you decided it was time to go home. Cautiously, you went back to your bedroom, changed into your jeans, shirt, and flannel from the previous day, and mentally prepared yourself to face your family.

“Look who’s up.” Tommy greeted as you walked down the stairs. Joel looked at you with a somewhat stern look that was usually reserved for Ellie.

“Morning, Dad. Morning, Uncle Joel.”

“Hey, kid.” His stern look stayed, even as he took another drink from the mug. You adjusted your backpack, feeling a little uneasy about the situation you got yourself into.

“Where you running off to? Too good to hang out with your dad and uncle?”

“Of course not. I figured I better get home and take care of some things.” Tommy and Joel gave each other a look, making you feel even more uneasy.

“How much of our conversation did you hear?” Your uncle looked at you for a moment before reaching into his jacket pocket. A small part of you was worried you were about to be shot or stabbed. If that was going to be your last moment, you wanted to be honest.

“All of it. That’s why I’m going home, so I can work things out with Ellie.”

“You might want to take this. It’ll at least get your foot in the door.” Joel finally pulled his hand out of his pocket and revealed Ellie’s switchblade. Your eyes widened in surprise since Ellie rarely let it out of her sight.

“Well, go on. She’ll give up eventually and leave for patrol.” Joel held the switchblade out for you to take. You carefully took it and placed in in your jeans pocket.

“Wish me luck. If she stabs me don’t punish her. I probably deserved it.” Your joke didn’t totally stick, but both men gave you a halfhearted smile.

“Good luck, kiddo. If things don’t work out you can always move back in.” It was a sweet gesture, but you really didn’t want to move back in with your dad and stepmother.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

You hastily left the house, determined to make it back home before Ellie left. After running through town you reached the garage you could see Ellie through the door window, searching for something. You placed your hand on the door handle, but paused before twisting it. We’re you allowed to just walk in after a fight? You pulled your hand away and knocked instead.

“Come in!” You slowly stepped in, expecting her to turn around. Instead, she continued to rummage through her desk drawer.

“You don’t have to say it, Jesse. I know I’m late. I can’t find my switchblade.” You stood there practically frozen. What exactly were you suppose to say in situations like this?

“Uh...it’s me.” Ellie stopped searching and looked over her shoulder. You gave her a small smile and in return she finally turned around to face you.

“Hey. I uh...I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Sorry. I found your switchblade in my bag. I knew you’d want it for patrol.” You pulled the switchblade out of your pocket and walked towards her. When you were a few steps away, Ellie held out her hand, silently telling you to keep your distance. You handed her the switchblade and felt the awkwardness in the room intensify as you both stood in silence.

“Thanks for bringing it back. Now I can finally go on patrol.” Ellie stepped to the side and walked past you. You knew you couldn’t let her go out into the world where she could possibly die without talking things out first.

“We need to talk about last night before you go.” You forced yourself to turn around and look at Ellie. It took her a moment, but your girlfriend eventually turned around to face you.

“What is there to talk about? We fought, you left and now you’re back. We’re fine.” She shrugged, trying not to show she was still upset about this whole thing.

“We are not fine. Come on, talk to me, Ellie.” You carefully approached her and much to your surprise again, Ellie let you hold her hands.

“I’m jealous of Dina. There, are you happy now?” Ellie barely looked you in the eye as she spoke. She also let go of your hands and quickly crossed her arms over her chest.

“Babe, why are you jealous of her?”

“Like I said...she gets to spend a lot of time with you and I don’t. She’s also really pretty.” Ellie nervously bit her lip and rocked back and forth slightly.

“I’ll talk to Maria about maybe scheduling us for the same patrols or at least have us both work mornings. That way we’re both home at the same time.” Ellie finally shifted her gaze from the floor to you.

“I’d like that, but I realized it’s unfair for me to ask you to stop hanging out with Dina. You guys have been friends since before I got here.”

“She’ll understand. After all, she did pretty much abandon me the first month she was dating Jesse.” You chuckled at the memory while Ellie smiled at you. It felt amazing seeing her smile again.

“So...are we good?” Part of you was nervous that she would say ‘no’ and your relationship was permanently damaged. The other part was certain things were finally mended.

“Yeah, we’re good.” That was all the confirmation you needed to pull Ellie into a hug. A smile crept across both your faces as you held one another. Ellie pulled away just enough to fit her arms between you that way she could hold your face in her hands.

“You know, you never denied that Dina was pretty.” She tried to give you a serious look, but ended up looking adorable.

“I can’t deny it because she is pretty. She’s not my type though. I only like girls who are interested in space, comic books, guitars, and who are immune to a certain virus that turns people into walking fungus.” Ellie tried hard to fight her growing smile, but failed miserably. You didn’t even try to hide your amusement.

“You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, but I’m your sap.”

Like a scene out of a movie, you looked each other in the eyes for a brief moment before leaning in for a kiss. The kiss was sweet at first, but after a few moments things heated up. Ellie’s hands found their way up to your hair, effectively pulling you impossibly close together. Just as you took off your flannel there was a knock at the door.

“Ellie? You in there?” Jesse’s muffled voice called out. You quickly jumped apart, both breathing heavy.

“Shit. Yeah, I’m in here! Just give me a minute!”

“Take your time. It’s not like you’re missing work or anything.” Ellie rolled her eyes and let out a groan.

“I guess we’ll pick this up later?” You asked, straightening out your shirt.

“Definitely. I’ll get back as soon as I can.” Ellie turned around to finally leave for patrol. She only made it a few steps before you grabbed her wrist. Ellie stopped and turned to face you.

“Be careful out there. I can’t lose you after I just got you back.” Your girlfriend smiled before leaning in and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“I’ll always come back to you.”

“I love you, Ellie.”

“I love you too, y/n. See you later.”

“See you later.” She leaned in and gave you another kiss on the cheek.

Ellie finally reached the door and was promptly greeted by Jesse sporting a raised eyebrow.

“And what took you so long?”

“I was busy. Now, let’s go.”

Ellie and Jesse left, officially leaving you alone. You walked over to your bed and laid down, enjoying the feeling of being back in your own home. Just as you closed your eyes for a moment of rest from the emotional rollercoaster you had been on for the past ten hours, there was a knock at your window. You turned your head to see Dina waving furiously.

“Let’s go get breakfast!” Her muffled voice came through the window. For a moment, you considered not going since Ellie told you her feelings about you spending time with Dina. But, Ellie did say it would be selfish of her to ask you to not hang out with your longtime friend. What could one breakfast together hurt anyway? You quickly climbed out of bed and met Dina outside.

“Hey, D. What’s up?”

“I think you know what’s up. You really think you could get into a fight with Ellie and not tell me about it?” Dina placed her hands on her hips and tried to look angry at you.

“How’d you find out?”

“People in this town talk, y/n. Come on, you can tell me all the details over breakfast. I’m starving and hungover. Not a great combination.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

You threw your hands up in a surrendering way before walking with Dina to the bar. It was going to be a long morning, but after the drama you had just been through, you were ready for anything.

[yespolkadotkitty]

Querida

Oh, fucking hell. This fic has eaten my life for the past 2 (?) days.

Tovar and William arrive at the Great Wall and things change irrevocably.

Warnings: first time, shameless smut, indulgent smut, no actual plot.

Word count: 4,000

When the outsiders were dragged in, they looked more animal than human, long hair and thick, knotted beards, covered in thick, dirty armour and furs. You struggled to make out their features from across the huge hall.

If this was what existed beyond the protective barrier of the wall, well, you weren’t missing anything. 

The only other Westerner you’d seen was William Ballard, the former mercenary who’d been held here since he tried to steal black powder over twenty years ago. You were only a small girl then, but over the years he’d taught you English, gained your slightly dubious trust. 

You saw him eyeing the two strangers - one fair haired, tall, one darker, stockier, and wondered if he’d try and make friends.

Ballard was polite to you, even kind sometimes, but you never suspected that he’d stopped trying to escape. He always looked furtive, always seemed to have an agenda crawling under his skin, barely concealed.

The strangers were led off to the barracks. You could smell them from here, and, disgusted, you dipped your head back to your bowl of hot, fragrant stew, pairing it with soft, spiced bread.

You hadn’t missed the way the captured soldiers had eyed the food and suspected they were hungry. Maybe even starving. According to reports from the scouts, there was precious little in the way of vegetation of sustenance in this part of China, so they’d have been hard pressed to stay well fed.

******

As you trained with the fellow members of your patrol unit, all the gossip centred around the two strangers, and how yīngjùn  - handsome - they were after cleaning up in the barracks. You bent to your task and tried to ignore the idle chatter. Sometimes you indulged, but ever since your mother had been savaged by a Tao Tei that breached the wall, costing her her arm, you’d forgone any sort of idleness or pleasure, focusing on being strong, preparing to fight the monsters, and helping to work on strategy against them.

At dinner, you joined everyone in the great hall, and after gathering your food and sitting, you found yourself opposite the two Europeans. You stared for a moment, reconciling them with the two hairy, unwashed oafs you’d seen only yesterday. 

“Evening to you,” the fair-haired one said in a lilting accent. He elbowed the darker one. “Tovar.”

Tovar looked up from his food. “Buena noches.” He’d shaved all his beard save a moustache and some scruff around his jaw. The removal of the scraggly beard showed off the shape of his face, drew attention to his big, soulful brown eyes.

“That’s “good evening” in Spanish,” the fair-haired one added, amused. “I’m William.” He seemed to have a sunny disposition, his jaw also freshly shaved, hair tied back as he ate amiably. In contrast, Tovar ate in silence and you noticed a wicked-looking scar arching over his left eye. He glanced around as he chewed, as if worrying someone might remove his food at any moment.

You introduced yourself. “Thank you both for helping. Yesterday, against the Tao Tei.”

Tovar grunted in response. William smiled lopsidedly, his manner affable and relaxed. “You’re welcome.”

******

After that, you didn’t see much of the Westerners. Every day it seemed the weaponsmiths came up with new methods to keep the vicious Tao Tei at bay, and you immersed yourself in learning, as usual, between visits to your mother in the secluded gardens within the widest part of The Wall. She was in good spirits for once, letting you help her eat, laughing at your descriptions of the stinky Europeans.

When you left her, you stopped by the armoury to change your daggers. The ones you’d been using for a few days would be sharpened by the boys drafted there. No one could afford a blunt weapon when every moment the Tao Tei seemed to be evolving; everyone needed to be as sharp as their blades.

Yours were useful in targeting the eyes, you’d trained hard and your aim was often true.

You stopped dead at the sight of Tovar in the armoury, hefting an axe as if testing the weight. You must have made some sound, because he turned, brown gaze raking over you suspiciously. He did everything suspiciously, it seemed.

“Where’s William?” you asked, to cover the fact that you’d started to admire his broad form in the leather armour.

Tovar scoffed. “You like him, do you?”

You shrugged. “Everyone likes him. He’s friendly.”

Turning the huge axe in his hands, Tovar scowled. “And handsome, I guess you’re going to say next.”

You weighed your words carefully. 

Yes, William was easy on the eye, and several of your fellow soldiers had said so. You suspected even Commander Lin Mae had a crush, though she held her cards close to her chest like any good military-bred woman. But your dreams had been filled with soulful brown eyes and what the touch of scarred hands might feel like. How it would sound to have Spanish murmured in your ear in the darkness.

“He is pleasant to look at,” you said at length. 

Tovar looked away, muttering something, and for a second before he’d turned, you thought you saw a flicker of sadness pass over his stocky features, but the light in the armoury wasn’t good enough to tell.

You left him to his grumpiness.

****

You woke with a start at the sound of the horn blasting - an attack was on its way.

Dressing deftly with practiced speed, you hurried up to the wall to see several lines of soldiers already in place. Other women and men from your unit joined you in full armour. A few feet away, William and Tovar were also fully armoured up, grim expressions on their faces. Unlike you, they’d only faced Tao Tei once before in their lives, and although they’d proved themselves formidable, it only took one mistake, one slip in a pool of blood, one misjudged dagger throw, and a warrior could be cut down in an instant.

The crane unit deployed as the creatures climbed over each other, jaws snapping, eyes blinking red and gold in the half-light of early morning, the lit torches only adding to the atmosphere of the scene unfolding.

As usual, Ballard hid behind a pillar, only half his face visible.

Then two creatures breached the top of the gargantuan wall, and all hell broke loose.

You swung your swords as best as you could, holding the line with your unit, the armour of the soldiers atop the wall a cacophony of colour and reflecting light as the fighting raged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tovar and William battling the second, hulking Tao Tei, jaws stringy with saliva, reptilian eyes wild, claws scrabbling. Tovar caught it in the belly with an axe as William scored an arrow in its left eye, and the scaly beast crashed to the floor in a pool of blood, twitching.

You turned back to your own fray as lightning crackled, luminescent and fierce. Thunder followed, the sound splitting the pitch black blanket of the sky. The remaining Tao Tei on the wall tossed its head in fury, its jaws snapping and catching the soldier in front of you by the spear, hurling them over your head, knocking out William, whose bow went hurtling away across the stones.

Frozen in fear, you stood rooted to the spot as the Tao Tei opened its jaws, and you stared into the yawning darkness of its mouth, towards certain death.

The scream of an axe flying through the air broke the spell and just in time, you ducked as the spinning blade sliced through the jaw of the hulking green beast, throwing it off its stride. Undeterred, it reached out a huge claw, dripping with the thick blood of your comrades, and swiped-

The air was knocked out of you, and your back hit stone, cushioned by your thick armoured doublet.

Tovar stared down at you, breathing hard. “Eager for death, querida?”

Embarrassed both because you were caught like a deer in headlights, and because you’d reacted instantly to the feel of his hard body pressed intimately to yours, you shoved him off. “I can look after myself.”

Tovar lay on the stone for a second, staring at you, and then shook his head, standing. “Obviously.”

You struggled to get your head back in the game after that, but managed to use your throwing knives to cut out the sight in one of the Tao Tei’s unblinking eyes, internally sighing in relief that you weren’t rendered totally useless in combat.

****

It took a long time to cut up and drag away the two dead Tao Tei. Sometimes, they were tossed over the wall, but this time, Strategist Wang had deemed that too big a risk before the bricks broken today were repaired.

You headed to the courtyard garden to lick your wounds - mainly your pride, thankfully - and stopped short, seeing Tovar sitting on the edge of the fountain, washing his face.

He looked up at your approach and then looked away, a scowl crossing his darkly handsome face. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him smile.

You sat a polite distance away, decided that washing might feel good, and scooped up water.

As you looked into the reflective surface, your face as well as Tovar’s looked back at you. His hair curled damply, the scar across his eye pale in the morning light, his mouth set into a grim line.

“What I said earlier,” you began.

Tovar looked away. Forget it, si?”

You couldn’t forget the look on his face. The one that said he’d handled a lot of rejection and now expected it, handled it with standoffishness and grumpiness. He stood up, his shoulders set, and turned away.

“William is pleasant to look at,” you ground out, “but I prefer looking at you.”

Tovar stood stock still, so you knew he’d heard you.

“Do not make fun, querida,” he said, very softly, but his words carried to you in that husky voice.

“I’m not.”

He turned back to face you very slowly, his face set in a serious expression, and then a slow smile slid over his face, lighting it up, and for a moment he was so handsome, he stole your breath.

****

From then on, whenever you saw each other, you and Tovar would sneak little glances. Sometimes if you sat together at the long dinner tables, his thigh would touch yours, and your heart would thunder in your chest.

For his part, Tovar seemed much happier to be within the confines of the Great Wall, joining in the combat drills and showing some of the patrol units his axe throws.

Life continued, without any attacks from the Tao Tei, for some time. Spring started to bloom all around, and the three large cherry blossom trees in the garden courtyard sprouted perfect, pale pink flowers.

The morning after they bloomed, you found one waiting for you, tucked into the door handle of your small quarters. And another, the day after that, until the blooms dropped to the ground and were swept away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him at dinner.

“De nada,” he smiled, looking at you with those dark eyes, and you wondered what he wanted. What his endgame was. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you melted inside, and each little touch stoked the flames, until you’d reached fever pitch.

You finished your food, went to stand, and he touched your arm. “Meet with me, si? In the courtyard. When the moon is high.”

You nodded shakily, your heart somersaulting, ready for your little routine of smiles and heated glances to move to the next level.

******

The full moon hung waxy and heavy in the sky, surrounded by pinprick stars, when you entered the courtyard on stealthy feet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you made out Tovar’s silhouette under the cherry blossom trees, now entirely green and leafy.

He tipped his chin in silent greeting as you crossed to him, standing awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do, how to act.

Fantasizing about him covering you in the night, his deep voice murmuring to you in Spanish, was very different to being only inches away, breathing in the scent of his rosemary soap and just a hint of the lemon oil he cleaned his armour with.

“Querida,” he whispered. “You want this, no?”

The edge of trepidation in his tone made your decision for you, and you closed the distance. Tovar cupped your face in his gentle, scarred hands, and dipped his head to kiss you. You met his lips eagerly, if a little clumsily, and drunk in his little groan as your tongues danced. He tasted of spice and tea, addictive, and you slid a hand up his neck into the silky mass of his dark hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

Tovar was not the first man you’d kissed, but the incendiary feelings this kiss incited in you made the others pale into insignificance.

He slid his arms around you and pulled you close, aligning your body with his, and you thrilled to the feel of the evidence of his desire hot and heavy against your belly.

You sucked in a breath when Tovar broke the kiss, his dark gaze searching yours. “You truly do not fear me, little one?”

“I never have. Should I?”

“Never, mi corazón,” he whispered. “I should fear you. What you could do to my…. Old, scarred heart.” He tipped your chin up with a gentle hand. “Do not give me hope where there is none, si?”

“But there is.” Sweet man, you thought, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come…. Back to my quarters?”

He nodded silently, and you felt something drop in your stomach, as if things were about to change irrevocably.

You led him by the hand up the steps to the main gatehouse, and through the silent corridors to your quarters. The sound of the key in lock seemed loud, but then Tovar shut the door behind you, and he dominated the space in his black tunic, leathers and breeches. 

Unsaid words littered the space between your bodies, the only light a faint glow from the wall sconce above your tiny desk.

Anticipation pooled in your belly, warring with nerves. “I.. I’ve never done this before-” Twenty-four summers old you might be, but when you lived in a cold, stone fortress, with the constant threat of a Tao Tei attack and cared for your mother, there wasn’t much time for romance.

“We will start slow, then.” Tovar closed the gap between you and again cupped your face in his hands, kissing you again, seducing you by tiny increments. You felt your body begin to relax as the kiss turned leisurely, and your hands slid up the wall of his chest, his heart beating a ragged tattoo under your palm.

His armoured leather spread warm and soft under your hands, but you wanted more. His breathing hitched when you started to unlace the tunic fastenings, but he slid his hands down to your hips, letting you have your way.

Outside, an owl hooted in the distance. Your own heart thundered in your ears, desire making your blood feel syrupy, as you pushed the leather off his shoulders, only the worn, soft fabric of his black shirt underneath. You met Tovar’s gaze and found something dark and hot and yours in his tea-dark eyes, and it made you greedy, so you gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Tovar helped you, lifting his arms and bending, and you’d seen what his arms and hands could do with an axe, so his gentleness both humbled and aroused you.

The shirt fell to the floor on his armour, and oh God, he was big and broad and muscled. Fascinated, you spread your hands over his chest, your skin pale compared to his golden tan, mapping the myriad scars over his chest. A wicked one ran from one nipple down to the side of his hip, the end white with age, and, overcome with how painful it must have been, you bent and pressed your lips to it.

He was silent, breathing ragged, as you did the same for all the scars you could see, tracing them with first your fingers and then your lips, learning the feel and taste and smell of him as his heart thundered, hands clenched on your hips.

A sound that might have been pleasure or pain escaped his lips, and you looked up, meeting his gaze, seeing fire there. “Enough,” he bit off, and he lifted you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as if you were the most precious of jewels, and in the next breath he covered you, and your arms wound around him. 

You spread your palms over his back greedily, drinking him in by touch, and he lowered his mouth to yours, starting the whole process anew. Kissing you until that fluttering starting in your belly again, until you were arching your hips to get closer to him, to feel more of the hard, hot length of him against you.

Curious, and eager, you snuck a hand between your bodies to cup him through his breeches, and a muttered slew of Spanish passed his lips as he bucked into your palm, then grabbed your wrist.

“Next time, perhaps. It has been too long for me, comprende?”

He guided your hands upwards, set them on the pillows above your head. “I want to focus on you.”

And wow, that made want and need clutch at you, deep inside.

Tovar undressed you slowly, and you watched his scarred hands work in the low light from the flickering sconce flame, peeling back each layer of your robes. “Hermosa,” he whispered reverently, and then, as if remembering you didn’t speak Spanish, he added, the butterfly wings of his breath warm against your skin, “Beautiful.”

His words warmed you inside out, and then he touched his mouth to your skin and all thoughts left your head.

Aside from a handful of nervous fumbles in the armoury, right now was the closest to sex you'd ever been. As Tovar drank you in, his tongue learning the flavour of your nipples, you broke the invisible hold he'd put on your wrists and touched him, raking your fingers through his hair and smoothing your palms over the golden skin of his broad back.

He mumbled what you guessed was praise in Spanish as he licked and kissed endlessly. You felt him hard and unyielding against your thigh, but he seemed uncaring of his own needs, existing, for now, purely for your pleasure.Time ceased to exist and your world narrowed to each lick of his warm tongue, each stroke of his big, scarred hands, over your skin.

“What did I do to deserve such beauty?” he mused, moving down to feather kisses on your stomach.

“You… bathed,” you muttered, completely at ease with him, and he coughed out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life under water, querida, if this is my reward.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then he spread your legs and put his mouth on you, and nothing else mattered, save the curl of his tongue where you were damp and ready, the glide of his lips on your inner thighs, then the tickle of his facial scruff across your clit, the press of his fingers inside you. You clenched your muscles around his digits and felt him sigh against you, pleasure and anticipation wrapped up inside that single breath, and you arched into his face, chasing the sweet release that every flick of his tongue promised.

Your thighs trembled as Tovar gentled the pace, then sped up again, keeping you on the edge of your climax. This was nothing like what you’d experienced at your own hand, you were bent to his will, control out of your hands-

He licked a long strip over your with the flat of his tongue and you came with a keening cry, turning your face into the pillow to keep from making a sound. The walls might be stone here, but it was better not to take chances.

Tovar propped himself up on his elbows, and the pleased look on his face made your stomach flutter anew.

“Now, I think you are ready, hermosa.”

He disrobed quickly, and you watched every inch of tanned skin revealed in the half-light from the wall sconce. The sliver of moonlight through your window kissed the curve of his shoulder, the scar across his eye, and you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

You sighed with pleasure as he moved atop you again, gloriously naked, and his skin was smooth and hot, and instinctually, you shifted and wrapped your legs around his hips. Tovar growled into the curve of your neck and positioned himself, and your inner muscles clenched greedily in breathless anticipation of this, the first time having a man inside you.

“I will be gentle,” he promised, and you nodded, mumbling his name, not sure what you wanted, but just knowing you needed-

The hot press of him inside you kindled another fire deep in your belly. The head of him brushed the sensitive bead at your apex and you arched desperately -

The pain sliced through you, and Tovar dropped his forehead to yours, going totally still inside you. You felt him trembling slightly, braced on his forearms, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s..” A tear rolled down your cheek and he went to pull away. The fact this big, world-weary, grumpy, strong mercenary would stop, without a word from you, made your heart turn over, and you banded your arms around him.

The pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and you experimentally clenched your inner muscles around him. Tovar bit off a string of curses in Spanish, shifting slightly, and the movement sent little licks of pleasure ricocheting inside you.

“Good?” he whispered against your lips.

“Good,” you agreed, breathing him in, tasting yourself on his mouth when he brushed a kiss over your lips, the breath shuddering out of him.

He moved slowly, seducing you again with his gentleness, capturing your little gasps of sensation with his mouth, until there was more pleasure than pain, and you needed to feel all of him. Testing, you lifted your hips, dragging him deeper, and he made that addictive growl again, his hips moving faster. You clenched your hands on his big shoulders, digging your heels into his thighs, urging him on. 

“Carajo,” he cursed, his hips stuttering, and he thrust out and back in again, touching a spot inside you that crashed waves of pleasure through you, and you keened his name, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Tovar went still, eyes closing for a second, then pulled out, taking himself in hand and finishing across your stomach, his breath coming raggedly, before he collapsed beside you on the narrow bunk.

After a moment he turned on to his side and stroked damp strands of hair back from your face. “Querida.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Darling.”

He dropped a kiss on your lips and then moved off the bunk, finding your bucket of water, refreshed each day, and soaking a cloth, wringing it out before gently cleaning off your stomach, then standing awkwardly, his gaze searching yours in the low light, questioning.

Your heartbeat settled. Tomorrow you would have to wake up with the sun, and train again, and fight for your life. Tomorrow you would have to decide what you wanted to do with this new thread between you and Tovar, the emotions that lightened your heart and swam in your head. But for now, it was night, and you wanted to push the Tao Tei and the fighting away, to not think about whether Tovar would one day want to leave the safety of the Wall.

So you crooked your finger and lifted up the blanket. “Stay.”

Relief crossed his dark, handsome features, and he did as you bid, gathering you close. You snuggled your cheek into his warm, scarred, solid chest, burrowed into his warmth, and, forgetting about everything except the sound of his heart beating, you dropped into sleep.

Thankyou so much to @restingnurseface​ for the company, read-throughs and encouagement.

Tagging people who might like this @bunnyart-blog​ @spacegayofficial​  @tiffdawg​ and my regular “whole shebang” taglist: @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @just-the-hiddles​ @littlemissthistle​ @palaiasaurus64​ @adorkabeezle​ @myoxisbroken​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ please ask to be added or released!