#william ruins everything per usual

[hazelnutsforellie]

genesis | e. williams ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

PAIRING— jackson!ellie williams x fem!reader

SUMMARY— ellie has had feelings for you for a while... and finally opening up to you leads to many unexpected things, such as you teaching ellie how to ride for the first time

WARNINGS— nsfw, smut [18+], reader pleasing ellie, strap usage, shy & slightly bratty ellie, friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealous reader, sexual tension, top!reader, bottom!ellie, hair pulling, hickeys, nipple play, fingering (e rec), oral (e rec), overstim, the works, not proofread per usual.

WC— 6.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE— i got a few requests for bottom ellie and whipped this up over many late nights listening to genesis by grimes on repeat xx

TAGLIST: @kurosaaki @bellswlw @evanpetersluver @prrimordiais @urlocalgingersnap

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You saw her often. The witty auburn that your friend, Dina, would not stop talking about every time they'd get back from patrol. Ellie. The girl you've had a secret crush on ever since she arrived to Jackson. You were aware of Dina's feelings for the girl, but you couldn't change the way you felt, even if you wanted to.

Ellie's tough on the outside, which only draws you closer to her. Your adoration was hard to ignore, mainly because you've had a suspicion that she feels the same way. There was a particular moment that had you question everything.

You thickly swallowed, gently shaking your hand to swirl the liquor in your glass as your eyes moved back and forth. Standing at the bar, you leaned to press your back against the solid wood, sighing to yourself. The one person you hoped would show up couldn't even talk to you, getting dragged away from the bar to the dance floor by Dina before you could finish greeting her. Dina managed to sweet talk you into going to the winter dance to begin with, located at the church in the center of town.

You silently watched Dina and Ellie slow dance as you stood by the bar, until it happened. Dina slowly leaned in, capturing Ellie's lips into a kiss.

You felt angry. You could not believe that Dina had kissed Ellie, despite never telling Dina about your infatuation with the auburn haired girl to begin with. You couldn’t necessarily blame Dina. Hell, you wanted Ellie just as bad. You were too afraid to make a move first, worried that you were going to ruin your friendship. Of course, right?

The part that stuck out to you, was what happened after Dina kissed her. From where they were dancing, Dina’s back was facing you and you could see Ellie’s face. You tried to avert your gaze elsewhere, not wanting her to catch you staring. You couldn’t help but capture a glance every so often as they danced, though. When Dina kissed her, you just so happened to be looking, and you noticed Ellie’s eyes widen as if she had seen a ghost. When they pulled away from each other, Ellie looked at… you.

You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t care. You were upset, as anyone would be if they saw someone kiss the person they wanted to call their own. A sigh blew from your nose as you avoided Ellie’s gaze, downing the rest of your drink before lighting placing the glass down on the bar top. You weren’t particularly a fan of gatherings to begin with, let alone a dance.

You didn’t waste time heading for the front door of the church, waving and fake-smiling goodbyes to your friends on your way until you reached Jesse, who was conveniently by the door. He was leaned up against the wall, sweet talking a girl — most likely to shoot back at Dina.

“Hey, I’m heading out,” you advised, pointing toward the door with your thumb. Jesse stopped talking to the girl, you weren’t sure what her name was, and quirked a brow at you.

“Already? It just started,” Jesse nearly whined, pulling himself off the side of the wall.

“It’s been over an hour,” you deadpanned, your hooded eyes narrowing, "-and I didn’t say you had to leave with me.”

Jesse’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by the clear anger that rolled off your tongue. He didn’t take it personally, nodding in understanding. You then nodded back, backing up by a couple steps to grab your coat off the rack beside the door before making your way outside.

Ellie was hard to read. When you would see her around Jackson, she would make sure she saw you too. As if she was looking around, waiting to see you pass by just to get a glance at you. You were friends, but you weren’t extremely close. You knew each other’s interests, and had a fair share of deep conversations, but you were never close. To be fair, Ellie wasn't close with anyone.

Ellie seemed shy around you, wanting to hear all about you and not a peep about herself. Sure, she would tell you stories here and there, but she always wanted to learn more about you each time she saw you. It was flattering, really. You thought she was charismatic, and it made her that much more attractive.

You were silent your entire walk home, your skin frosting as the ice-cold weather consumed you. Your nose was burning red, light sniffles sounding above your lips as your boots crunched on the snow below you. All you could think about was how you let your chance slip between your fingers. You had many chances, actually. You were just afraid.

After you had left the church, Ellie looked to Jesse with a curious expression. Dina still had her arms wrapped around her from kissing her, but her grip slowly released when she realized Ellie’s attention was no longer on her.

“I’ll, uh… fuck. I’ll be right back,” Ellie mustered, giving Dina an assuring nod. Dina furrowed her brows in bewilderment, but Ellie didn’t give her a chance to say anything before she was heading for the church doors. She completely forgot to grab her jacket from the rack, making Jesse look to Dina in surprise.

Instead of heading after you, Ellie went home. She was upset, mainly with herself. She cursed under her breath as she walked, unable to stop thinking that she had quite possibly ruined any chance she had. Even though she was walking through inches of snow without a jacket, her adrenaline was warming her body just enough to make it home.

Unbeknownst to you, or anyone for that matter, Ellie had feelings for you. Hell, she was surprised you couldn’t tell. The way she would get nervous when you would playfully wink at her after saying a joke. The way she would feel her cheeks burn, and she would turn her head away from you for a moment to prevent you from catching a glimpse.

Ellie tried to act cool around you, as you would say. You had to admit that it was cute, though. You could tell that she just wanted to impress you, and you wished you could tell her that you were already far past that. The problem was, you simply took it as her being your friend.

When Ellie made it inside her studio home in Joel’s backyard, she immediately made her way toward her desk. She took a seat on her desk chair, her elbows landing on the solid wood of the table as she wiped her eyes with her hands. A groan fell from her lips while she remembered what happened at the dance, grimacing to herself.

She dropped her hands back down to the desk, where her journal was resting. She wasted no time peeling it open and flipping to the next available page, picking up a stray pen before writing down her thoughts. It was the best way for her to express how she felt.

I can’t believe Dina kissed me… not that I don’t like Dina or anything. I’m scared. I’m… anxious. I don’t know if I should sleep it off… Did she see her kiss me?

Ellie’s hand halted as she thought, letting a deep sigh escape her nose before she continued.

Of course this shit would happen to me. I never meant to make Dina think I wanted anything more than friendship. Fuck... I just wish she didn't kiss me. I have to fix it, right? Is she upset? She's seemed upset. She stormed out...

Ellie read over the inked lines over and over again before finally slamming her journal closed, standing from her desk chair. She made her way over to her closet, changing out of her button up and into a grey hoodie. She didn't bother grabbing a jacket to wear over it, knowing that it was only a two minute walk.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself, pulling the hoodie down her frame until it reached just below the waistline of her jeans. She then made her way over to her door, not allowing herself to hesitate or else she would overthink it and isolate herself.

Ellie wiped her clammy hands on her jeans, nervously sweating through the crisp air as she stared at your front door. Your place was fairly similar to hers, having built it yourself with your friends in an old garage.

Just do it, she thought. She huffed before raising her hand to your wooden door, firmly tapping her knuckles against it. Her heartbeat fastened when she heard shuffling from the other side, suddenly becoming more anxious. What am I doing?

Ellie's inner voice came to a halt when she heart the deadbolt lock turn, followed by the door squeaking open. Her eyes instantly met yours, her breath hitching in her throat. She had suddenly forgotten why she wanted to see you in the first place, panicking that you would turn her away.

You could tell that she was shivering, despite her efforts to keep her body still. You wanted to snicker from how stubborn she was, refusing to wear a jacket no matter how short of a walk it is.

“Ellie?” you shivered from the sudden burst of cold air, the high winds noisily shaking your cabin home. You noticed Ellie's change in outfit, seeing she was no longer in her button down that she wore at the dance, but was now wearing a grey hoodie. Ellie's lips parted as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out but a breath.

"Hey, are you... are you okay?" you asked, furrowing your brows in concern.

“I just… wanted to come address… some things,” Ellie clearly struggled to find her words, moving her hands as she spoke. She nearly winced at herself, her cheeks quickly growing pink the more you stared into her eyes. You intimidated her, and she loved and hated it at the same time.

"Okay, yeah. Sure," you nodded, not quite understanding what she meant, but you had an idea. You pulled the door open wider for her, motioning for her to walk inside. "C'mon, you're freezing."

Ellie obliged, quickly making her way inside your studio home with a loud blow of air escaping her lips to emphasize the cold. The warmth of your place due to your furnace quickly soaked through her hoodie, but not enough to stop her body from shivering. The layout of your place was nearly identical to Ellie's, but mirrored. Your couch rests on the left side of the room, your bed on the right.

"Jesus, you need to warm up," you said after you noticed the blue tint that lightly colored Ellie's lips. "Sit down, I'll add more fire to the furnace."

"No, no. I'll be quick," Ellie said as she sat down on your couch, wanting to just get it out. She couldn't allow herself to hold off on telling you how she felt any longer. You playfully rolled your eyes at Ellie's stubbornness, making your way around the coffee table to sit on the other side of the couch.

You both sat down, you sitting in her direction, your left leg off the couch and the other folded in front of you, while she sat with her back against the arm rest, one knee up and one down. Her urgency was slightly concerning you, causing you to give her your full attention and lean slightly forward.

"I... uh..." Ellie nervously trailed off, scratching the nape of her neck as she tried to formulate the proper words. "I saw you leave the dance... You looked upset."

Ellie didn't like the fact that you were potentially upset with her. She was not sure why you were upset, but she assumed that it was because Dina kissed her and not you. Although, she'd hoped that wasn't the case.

You sighed, leaning back up to sit comfortably, relaxing now that you knew what the topic was. You knew you had to say something, but you weren't sure if you wanted to express how you felt just yet.

"I... was bored," you lied with a shrug, earning no response in return. Ellie didn't believe you, furrowing her brows as you continued. "What are you wanting to clear up?"

Ellie nervously nibbled her bottom lip before looking elsewhere, her eyes trailing around your room as she spoke, "I just... wanted to let you know that I, uh— that I don't like Dina. Not like... that."

You had to admit, knowing that Ellie didn't have feelings for Dina was reassuring. Hell, she came to you after Dina kissed her. That had to mean something, right?

The tension was thick, much more than the usual. It was clear that there was an elephant in the room, a fact that neither of you wanted to address. There was something there, you both believed that. The way Ellie nervously scratched here and there, wiped her palms, her nervousness was dripping onto you.

"Do you think I like Dina, or something?" you asked, leaning your side against the cushions. Ellie looked surprised by your question, surprised that you knew exactly what she was thinking. Either way, she wanted to know who you had feelings for, because it was obvious it was one of them.

“No… I… no, no,” Ellie trailed off before groaning, unable to formulate a proper sentence. She suddenly shook her head, sitting up to lean closer to you. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers folded together to warm herself. "Okay, yes. I think you like Dina, and I was just... curious."

"Just curious?" you teased, raising a brow as you teasingly leaned closer to her. You almost heard Ellie suck in a sharp breath, her eyes subconsciously falling to your lips.

Ellie was used to your jokingly flirtatious personality, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if you were joking or not. Your personality was the main reason she fell so hard for you in the first place. Even though she hated that you made her blush in front of you, she never wanted you to stop.

"Well," you tilted your head, your eyes meeting hers again as you thought. You knew that your answer would reveal more than what you wanted to either way.

The damage was done. Your emotions were clearly displayed for her and everyone else at the dance. You were avoiding, and Ellie knew it. Your hesitation was just making her heart thump faster and faster in anticipation.

"I don't have feelings for Dina," you finally spit out, managing to hold eye contact with the auburn. You weren't admitting that you particularly had feelings for Ellie instead, hoping that you wouldn't have to.

"Okay..." Ellie trailed off as she leaned back against the armrest, continuing to nervously chew on her lower lip. The pressure in Ellie's chest was growing stronger, and your slightly flirtatious behavior was throwing her off your trail just enough. Instead, she began thinking that she had already made herself look a fool for showing up in the first place, wanting such information. She knew she had to clear it up. "I didn't want her to kiss me."

"Ellie, it's okay," you assured her, sensing that she felt uncomfortable with you thinking she liked Dina. You just couldn't understand why.

"It's just..." Ellie trailed off, not feeling completely satisfied. "You know when you get that overwhelming feeling that someone is upset with you? I just... I feel like I fucked something up."

"What do you think you fucked up? I don't understand," you expressed, shaking your head as you leaned closer to her. Ellie nearly shrunk, your warmth radiating off of you as you got closer. She could feel it, and she wished she could just wrap her arms around you to warm herself up.

Ellie thought about how she looked at you after the kiss, and how her eyes met yours. Your expression held a mixture of disappointment and sadness, and you held the eye contact for a short while before you set the glass down and left. It was obvious why you were upset, now that Ellie remembered more and more. If you truly wanted Dina, you would've looked pissed at Ellie. Yes, you were pissed. But you didn't show Ellie that, she didn't deserve it.

It clicked.

Ellie had a sudden burst of confidence, her legs still spread apart as she held onto her knee to lean forward, closer to you. You could have sworn you felt butterflies in your stomach.

"Why can't you just be honest with me?" she asked lowly, but kindly, her eyes never leaving yours. "You were upset. Just spit it out."

Ellie's behavior toward you had changed drastically. She wasn't as shy as she usually was. She was determined, and in a way, she seemed cocky. As if she knew something you didn't. That quick, like a flick of a switch, she got you.

Instead of allowing her to corner you, you reciprocated her attitude, but more seductively.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want me to say?" you teased, leaning closer to her until your nose was mere inches away from hers. Ellie didn't back away, remaining firm as she stared into your eyes, her cocky expression slowly faltering. It was a pitiful sight, honestly. You did nothing other than lean closer and she began melting.

Her silent action was enough for you to know exactly why she came in the first place. It was funny, both of you putting the pieces together in your own minds as you stared into each other's eyes.

You could feel your heart racing, thumping in your chest enough to make your necklace shake ever so slightly. Shaky breaths escaped Ellie's throat as her eyes trailed down from yours to your lips, not caring if you caught her or not. What did she have to lose, at this point? Her eyes then trailed down your jaw, to your neck. Fuck, she thought.

"You... you were upset that Dina kissed me," Ellie revealed, mainly to herself, since you were already fully aware. Her eyes met yours once again before she continued, "Because you..."

"Because I what?" you pushed, inching a tiny bit closer. The arousing tension was too obvious to mention. It was as if you both were just waiting for the green light. Neither of you knew how to express your feelings verbally, being used to internalizing them.

"You... you wished Dina was you?" Ellie raised an accusing eyebrow, nearly making you chuckle from her naturally raspy tone.

"More than that," you said before ending the conversation, wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck to pull her closer toward you, closing the gap. Her tongue instantly dipped into your mouth, nearly making you smirk against her lips. You could tell she had been waiting a while to kiss you.

Your lips were just as soft as Ellie had imagined, locking her lips with yours as she leaned into you. The more Ellie leaned in, the more you leaned back, allowing her to straddle your right thigh as your left leg hung off the couch.

Ellie used this to her advantage to grind her right knee against your clothed heat, her tongue still battling yours as you fought for dominance. You knew you were going to win, but you wanted to let her finish her moment. You didn't expect her to climb onto you at first, knowing fully well that she was a bottom in bed. You've had many personal conversations about your sex lives, and particular kinks that you liked.

Against your will, you learned that Cat was the one to give her head for the first time, and the fact alone left you jealous for days. You had no right to be, you knew that, but the thought still bothered you since you were so fond of her.

A breath fell from your lips and rolled onto Ellie's as her knee grazed your clothed clit, tightening your grip around her neck before pushing her forward. You used your grip on both her neck and on her hip to guide her down, easing her onto the cushions until she was flat against the couch, with you straddling her leg.

You released her lips from yours, beginning to trail wet love marks down her jaw, to her ear, to her neck. Soft breaths fell from Ellie's lips as you gently sucked her tender skin between your lips, making her eyes flutter closed as she relished in the feeling. Her hands found your waist, pulling your body closer to hers, which ultimately caused you to grind down on her thigh.

A groan fell from your lips, nearly causing a moan in return from Ellie. She could feel herself growing more and more soaked, her heat clenching around nothing as she anticipated your touch.

"You're freezing," you purred in her ear, having taken note of how cold her skin was against your warm lips. "D'you want to move to the bed?"

Ellie tilted her head back, lightly smiling at the feeling of your breath tickling her ear. She then looked up at you through her lashes, giving you a silent answer. You reconnected your lips with hers, pulling her to sit up before starting to take your shoes off. You then stood, reaching out for her hand, to which she quickly accepted.

It seemed like it took less than a second for the two of you to lie on your bed, immediately reconnecting your lips once more as you straddled her waist. Ellie's head rested comfortably against your pillows, her bun on the verge of falling out from how eager both of your movements were.

You decided to test the waters, gently biting her bottom lip as you pulled away from a kiss. In return, you earned a long intake of breath, Ellie's desperate eyes boring into yours as you smirked.

"You're impatient," you noted, sitting up as she continued to lie underneath you. Her bright eyes were looking up at you innocently, lips slightly parted, cheeks lightly tinted. She looked pitiful, just for you.

"I... fuck," she muttered, screwing her eyes shut as she gently bucked her hips against you. You raised a brow at the friction, tenderly pushing yourself against her to add pressure.

"What was that?" you pushed teasingly, trying to hide a cheeky smile. Ellie noticed it though, her long lashes fluttering closed as she rolled her eyes.

"I fucking need you, is that what you wanted to hear?" Ellie lightly snapped, and you gently placed your fists next to her ears, on the pillow that rested underneath her head. You stared down at her, watching her impatient expression slowly falter. She was unsure if she crossed a line, admitting something too soon. But she was wrong.

That's how you ended up with your tongue buried in her cunt, your hands tightly gripping her thighs to prevent her from squeezing them together. Her fingers were entangled in your hair, gripping the strands as tight as she could as you sunk your tongue between her sloppy folds, earning soft, whiney moans from her in response. And many curses.

"Fuck, fuck," she whimpered, grinding her hips against your face, coating your chin and cheeks in her wetness. Sure, she'd had a girl go down on her before, but it was nothing like this. The way Ellie's shoulders would shudder in pleasure with each drag of your tongue through her slit convinced her that you were the best she'd ever had.

A loud, pitiful moan would escape her throat each time your tongue dragged over her throbbing clit, which was begging to be touched. You slowly circled the tip your tongue around her swollen bundle of nerves before enclosing your lips around it, softly suckling.

"Holy shit," she cried, her free hand flying to the bedsheets to tug on, subconsciously attempting to pull her thighs closed, squeezing your head deeper into her cunt. "Just like that. Please do-n't... don't stop."

You watched as Ellie arched her back before she suddenly sat up, looking down at you as she used her free hand to stabilize herself, her other hand remaining entangled in your hair.

"Feels so good, babe," she praised weakly, the pet name making you gently flick your tongue against her clit. You suddenly released your grasp from her thighs, sliding your left arm over her lower abdomen. With your right hand, you eased a digit into her, continuing to give attention to her bundle of nerves as you did so.

"Oh my fucking god," Ellie grunted, followed by a string of moans as you slowly added a second digit. Ellie's lips quivered as she relished in the feeling of your fingers thrusting into her, the noises of her sopping cunt causing hungry groans to roll off your tongue and onto her clit, sending vibrations up her spine.

You released her swollen bud with a pop, cheekily smirking up at her as you began to fasten the pace of your fingers, the squelching noises growing louder with each thrust. You moved your left hand to grip her shoulder, since she was still sitting up, gently kissing her jaw, Ellie desperately tried to pull her legs closed, the pleasure quickly becoming overwhelming.

"No, no. Keep them open," you purred, guiding her legs wide open again, earning a desperate, loud moan in return.

"You sound so pretty. You hear that?" you purred, curling your fingers inside her to graze her spongy spot that drove her crazy, unbeknownst to you. A nearly pornographic moan erupted from Ellie's lips, her thighs flying shut as you thrusted your fingers relentlessly, the messy noises of her cunt bellowing throughout the room. You used your free hand to pull her thighs apart, quickly understanding that it was simply a reflex that she couldn't control, the pleasure overpowering her.

"Shit! I-I'm gonna come," Ellie whimpered, seeming embarrassed at how fast she approached her climax as her eyes screwed shut to avoid your gaze. You released your hand from her knee to grab her wrist, tenderly tightening your grip as she grew closer, causing her eyes to shoot back open and meet yours, making her fall for you all over again in one simple act.

"You're gonna come?" you cooed, wanting to assure her that your goal was to make her feel good, not make her last long. "That's okay. Come for me, baby."

Ellie's eyes screwed shut again as the overloaded pleasure eventually crashed down on her, her muscles stiffening as her orgasm blossomed through her core. Ellie's lips quivered as her jaw hung agape, short intakes of hair sounding from her throat as she struggled to catch her breath. Her lungs were completely knocked of air, not allowing a peep to escape her throat as her body began to tingle.

You began to slow the pace of your fingers, watching as her thighs trembled mercilessly. Upon removing your fingers from her wet folds, you gently straddled her once again to lean down and press gentle kisses on her cheeks, hearing gentle gasps from her as she recovered.

"You okay?" you whispered against her skin, softly running your fingers underneath the band of her sports bra, feeling just beneath the cotton. Ellie melted under your gentle, graceful touch, nodding her head in response as her eyes fluttered open, looking up as your lips traveled down her neck.

"How the fuck did you learn to do that?" Ellie questioned breathlessly, earning a cocky grin in response against the skin of her neck. Ellie playfully rolled her eyes from feeling your grin against her skin, her slim fingers finding your waist. You could feel Ellie's chest still heaving with heavy breaths, but not as rapid. "You're cocky."

"Am I?" you finally moved to meet her eyes, quirking a sarcastic brow. Ellie playfully hit your hip, her lips contorting into an sheepish smile. Your grip on her waist tightened before you flipped her so that you were in her previous spot with her straddling your hips.

Various birth marks and tiny freckles littered her thighs, barely noticeable in color. But you noticed, and she knew that. The way your fingers would caress them, traveling in specific patterns before she caught your attention again.

"Feel free to take a picture," she joked with an accusing tone, making you meet her eye contact. A small smile tugged the corners of her lips as she leaned down to capture your lips with hers, humming into the kiss in satisfaction. You suddenly pulled away from her lips, remembering that you had a specific toy that you often wished you could use, but never did.

"I want to try something," you said, easing her to sit up so you could slip out from underneath her. "Just lay down real quick."

Before anything else, you made sure to throw in a few logs of firewood into the furnace before making your way over to your closet beside your bed. You were only in your underwear, wanting to keep your place warm enough for Ellie's comfort.

She quirked a brow as she watched you rummage through your closet, catching a glimpse of your ass as you bent down. Your black cheeky underwear earned a sharp intake of breath from the auburn girl behind you as she stared, lightly squeezing her thighs together. You turned around to face her with a strap-on in hand, giving her a suggestive smile.

"Oh," Ellie's expression was surprised, but not distasteful. You knew it wasn't her first time using one, wanting to take up on the opportunity that was presented to you. She watched you as you strapped the simple harness, your eyes focused on it as you stepped back over to the bed. Ellie's expression quickly turned satisfied as she watched you climb back onto the bed, leaning closer to her until your lips met hers in a hungry kiss. You then laid back down, which made her eyes lightly widen, just enough for you to notice.

Your hands found their way to her waist, as she sat on her knees beside you, and you looked up at her with a gentle expression. "Come here, babe. I want to make you feel good."

"I've never done that," Ellie admitted, her freckled cheeks dusting a light pink after the words lightly escaped her lips. Her fingers began curling into the bedsheets, nervousness creeping up on her in fear that you would be disappointed with her inexperience. "I've never been on top."

Ellie looked nervous, but excited at the same time. You could tell that she genuinely wanted to try it, but that she didn't know what to expect. You were surprised that Ellie had never tried the position before, in a judgment-free way.

“Do you want me to teach you how?” you inquired genuinely, your fingers running down her hips to her indents where her thighs and lower stomach met. Ellie's tensed shoulders released as she nodded, taking it upon herself to climb onto you, the silicone toy gently resting against her stomach as she sat on your upper thighs.

Her eagerness surprised you, mainly because she had been ready for you the whole time. Despite already having one release, and not being touched for a short while, you could still see the glistening of tears finding their way down her legs as she straddled your upper thighs.

"I'll take care of you, okay?" you assured her, your fingers wrapping around the silicone as your left hand found its way to her right hip, helping her ease herself up to hover over the tip. Ellie nodded in response, her eyes falling from yours to the tip, watching it slowly disappear as you eased her down.

A soft whine escaped Ellie's throat as her eyes fluttered closed, feeling herself stretch around what she considered you. You were making her feel this good, and she wanted to consider it that. She had to admit that being on top definitely felt foreign, especially since she had not been with anyone for a while beforehand. She could not deny how good it felt.

Ellie was only halfway down the shaft before you took it upon yourself to begin lifting her up, using both hands on her hips to move her. She was quickly growing accustomed to the feeling as it turned from foreign to euphoric, tilting her head back as she gripped onto your wrists.

"Feel good? Hm?" you cooed, wanting to make sure that she was feeling nothing other than pleasure. It was your main goal.

"Yes," Ellie quickly replied, her grasp on your wrists tightening as her nails began to make crescent indents into your skin. You watched her tattoo flex as she did so, her grip never releasing as you began to slowly fasten your pace, lifting and easing her down on you. "F-fuck, yes. Feels s'good."

You began to feel her gaining her own pace with you, lifting herself up before you would push her back down, gently bucking your hips to aim deeper. Her eyes were screwed shut, the pleasure causing whiney, careless moans to erupt from her lips.

"Good girl," you purred as she lifted herself, earning a whiney moan in return. Her movements were growing less rigid, making a smile tug the corners of your lips.

"You got it, baby," you praised, your grip on her waist slowly releasing as she began to find her own pace. You continued to hold her hips, though, since you couldn't exactly pull them away from her grip on your wrists. "Just like that."

Ellie's moans were growing louder as you watched the silicone disappear into her, a white ring forming at the end from her slick as she repeatedly sunk down on you. Not only that, but the squelching of her cunt and the loud slapping of her ass landing on your thighs were just as loud and clear.

You looked back up at her, seeing her struggling to keep her hooded eyes open as she grinded her hips into yours. Her eyes never left yours, you moaning along with her not only to enhance her pleasure but to enhance your own. The sight alone was all you needed.

"Want my help, pretty girl?" you hummed, looking up at her. Ellie started to slow her movements, nodding in response. Her muscles were growing tired, not being used to the constant work of being on top.

You began grinding upwards, eventually tightening your grip on her hips once again to halt her movements, completely holding her still as you bucked your hips up, fucking her from underneath. Ellie squeaked in surprise, but it quickly melted into a string of moans as she looked down, watching the way her thighs slapped against yours, the way you gripped her hips, it was all overwhelming.

"Oh, oh, fuck," she breathed and released her grip from your wrists to lean forward, hovering over you. Since she let go of your wrists, you took the opportunity to slip your fingers underneath her sports bra to push it up, exposing her breasts to you.

You could see the rise in her sensitive peaks after being expose to the cooler air of the room, leaning up to capture one of them into your mouth, softly suckling on it. Ellie whined in response, wrapping her fingers around the back of your neck to hold your against her. Her focus was soon lost, the only thing on her mind being the immense pleasure you were giving her, her hooded eyes fluttering closed.

Ellie could feel the knot within her lower stomach beginning to ravel itself once again, the coil tightening more and more as you thrusted into her. She released her grip from you, pulling you away from her breast to catch your lips into a wet kiss, dirty moans getting pushed down your throat. You didn't expect Ellie to be so verbal, let alone loud, in bed, but you weren't complaining. It was like music to your ears.

"Is my girl close?" you whispered against her lips, beginning to lose your breath as you leaned back down to buck your hips up. Ellie nodded, her eyebrows furrowing enough to crease the skin between them as she felt herself nearing her release.

You used your grip on her hips to flip her onto her back, hovering over her. Ellie gasped in surprise before bellowing a pitiful cry as you thrusted your hips into hers, making her throw her head back against the pillows.

"F-fuck! Harder, p-please!" Ellie nearly sobbed in between thrusts, the pressure knocking the wind out of her lungs for short periods. Her hands quickly found their way on your back, her short nails digging into your skin as she arched her back, allowing you to hit at a deeper angle.

"I-I'm gonna come, I'm gonna cum!" Ellie repeated desperately before you slammed your lips onto hers, allowing her to melt under your touch as her second orgasm washed over her, her body jolting just as it hit her.

"God, you're so beautiful," you murmured against her lips, continuing to thrust at a gentle your pace until Ellie's hand flailed to your hip, "Fuck, fuck. I c-can't--"

"It's okay. It's okay," you soothed as you instantly slowed your movements to a halt, your breath hitting her lips before you gave her a reassuring kiss. You continued to press gentle kisses on her cheeks before pulling away to remove the harness from yourself, leaving Ellie for a swift moment. Based off the tiny, pitiful noises that rolled off her lips and onto yours, you could tell that you had taken a lot, if not all, of her energy. "Are you tired, babe?"

Babe. Ellie wasn't sure if you were only saying that because of what had just happened, or if you genuinely wanted to be something. Ellie wouldn't be opposed if your relationship was solidified by consummation, clearly, but she couldn't help but wonder.

"A little bit," Ellie sheepishly admitted as she continued to catch her breath, unintentionally looking up at you with doe eyes as you pulled the harness off your frame, climbing back onto the bed.

"You can stay here," you replied, a gentle smile tugging the corners of your lips as you tenderly pulled her sports bra back down her chest for her. Ellie reciprocated the smile, to which made yours stronger as her cheeks burned from your affectionate act. You lightly chuckled to yourself, beginning to pull yourself away from her to add more firewood to the furnace, but she quickly wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back down to hover over her. "Hey, wait."

You looked down at her, your hands on the bed on the sides of her head to stabilize yourself as you scanned her face, waiting for her to continue. Ellie didn't want to hold off on getting an answer, not wanting to overthink the situation for the rest of the night.

"I know this is... the worst fucking time, but... I really do like you, and I really don't want us to... I don't know," Ellie began to ramble, moving her hands along with her words. "I don't want us to awkwardly go our separate ways tomorrow..."

"Who said we had to?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at her. You had made your feelings clear, but not verbally, so you understood why she thought such things. You leaned back down, pressing your lips onto hers into a full kiss, holding both sides of her face as you straddled her. You then pulled away, looking down at her beautifully freckled face. "I really like you too, okay? Don't worry about that. I'm jus' glad I could finally tell you."

Ellie's cheeks burned a light pink as you tucked lose strands of her hair behind her ear, the tint flowing through her face before lightly kissing the tip of her nose.

"Let me add more firewood, and then we can talk more. Deal?" you asked with a smile.

"Deal."

a/n: if you made it this far, thank you for reading! feel free to send requests and/or feedback, everything is appreciated! ೃ⁀➷

[silvyavan]

Yuno Grinbellior: Fall From Class Solidarity Grace

This has been a LONG time coming when it comes to Yuno's character, all the power ups and hellacious writing involved with said character. This actually had me re-reading Black Clover just to compile this callout/thesis/whatever the hell this is.

Hypothesis: Yuno's character arc and symbolic meaning got absolutely ruined in Spade arc, on the entire series premises even, to the point where he went from class ally to class traitor. From "You don't have to have massive capital or a prestigious family to have lots of mana and worth" to "Being born to privilege literally gets you everywhere in life".

And even if its not, Yuno's character arc ends up being "always at the important events, never where it matters the most".

ARC 1: THE GRAND ELF ARC AND THE SET UP TO THE CHARACTER.

One of the pivotal moments of the early series is the Magic Knights Exam and how it ends. The choice between captains is arguably the best metaphor for how Asta and Yuno's rivalry feels scuffed and represents that, in a world where mana is everything, big mana DOES get you in high places, even if you're unaware of it.

When Yuno gets his turn to see which captains would want him, all of them raise their hands and he even has the option to choose the best ranked squad, Golden Dawn, a squad that is already built upon with SEVERAL noble houses supporting it, including the Wizard King's own support, and with a repertoire of big mana bitches. Yuno, who symbolises the 4 leaf clover and all the mana and perceived pedigree that comes from it, has the chance to go into a squad that is exclusive only to nobles.

Asta, however, is the more realistic approach of someone who starts from the bottom up and has nothing, as no squads raise their hands because they want him and the only option he DOES have is the squad that's at the bottom of the barrel/with the worst reputation.

This is important because this is aligned with the next instance we'll talk about: Star Festival.

The Star Festival literally has this shit said outright: even if you take THE worst squad out of the gutter and work to the point of disability and get borderline killed trying to protect your country, the squad full of nobles who have:

1) an environment where its much easier to gain achievements (GD being located in Kiten, near the border between Diamond and often attacked, even getting Spade spies, thus making nation relevant achievements is surprisingly easy),

2) more resources and funding due to nepotism and support from rich family members ( having many noble families who can afford tutors, training, education and even connections into getting into squads, often even allowing immediate medical care in case of emergencies), and

3) implicit connections with the higher ups in the government (William being from the same squad where Julius, current wizard king was, the ENTIRE judicial court of Clover being royalists/pro noble faction, likely having relatives in GD)

will still achieve better results for less effort. Asta still has to work harder than Yuno, just for 2nd place. Black Bulls squad can literally save villages and towns, stop foreign invasions and terrorists and they still don't get as much payback as the squad made up entirely from connections, money and massive mana prowess. Is the GD still also doing the same things as the Black Bulls? Yeah, but if you look at the point distributions, Golden Dawn gets SEVERAL per missions/events, with a Spade Kingdom officer being a whole 5 stars.

It's the most obvious metaphor and it leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth, since one of the key notions that one usually gets from the rivalry between Asta and Yuno is that its a friendly rivalry that isn't inherently favored in one direction. And this, and many OTHER instances shown later in the story are testament that that's not true.

Even though Asta and Yuno both qualify for the Royal Knights position, what happened at the actual tournament, concerning Langris, feels like a statement of Yuno throwing away any attempt of principles. Yuno was THERE when Langris went off the deep end, and this guy is his vice captain. Even agrees with Klaus that something is definitely off. But he makes no attempt to actually stop him. Luck, Magna, Noelle, Charmy and Asta all jump in to try and stop him. EVEN JULIUS comes in to try and stop him, so any statement of "he's his superior, he can't go against him" can't hold ground because Julius' judgement clearly says that hes got issues, so I doubt Langris would have grounds in trying to discipline Yuno for "insubordination".

Like, maybe it's just me, but if you see your vice captain go off the deep end and try to kill a contestant from a different squad AFTER its been announced he won, you should probably stop him for both their sakes.

Yuno doesn't, NOBODY from Golden Dawn does, what does that speak on what they view as "going too far"?

And when the match between Asta's and Langris' team ends in a draw, and in a show of solidarity, all the Knights come to Asta to support him, Yuno is... not part of the crowd. People like Klaus, Hamon and Mimosa from the Golden Dawn are. So you've got people from ALL OTHER squads, who don't even know Asta, coming in to his metaphorical support. Its almost out of place how he's not even coming over there, compared to the previous volumes where he was, in fact there.

This just keeps going on until the actual Elf incident, where it feels like Tabata finally remembers "oh yeah, Yuno and Asta are kinda supposed to be friends", and Yuno is immediately worried for Asta in comparison to the previous arcs where he's kind of aloof with him. Can the aloofness be part of the respect for him? Maybe, but this is only because we keep having places where Asta and Yuno are together in a situation. Spade Arc is not like that.

ARC 2: SPADE ARC AND THE FUCK UPS

Spade Arc, has, for the major part except for 2 instances, been an arc that keeps hammering in that Yuno is continuing the saga of acting like the first 15 years of his life mean jackshit.

Yuno is now Vice Captain, has a fanclub and seems to be acting like William is some important figure to him. And all of this feels like absolute lip service.

Vice Captain because Langris stepped down and naturally they needed someone reliable but there's plenty of other, more higher ranking and experienced brigade Knights who could have taken over the responsibilities (assuming that the position isn't just some "second strongest in the building" ranking, and has actual paperwork, responsibilities, workload, etc). So Yuno, getting the position when he's been a Knight for only 2 years, feels like a weird choice and doesn't even give a show of "mana may not be the same, but effort is". They just put any big mana bitch in charge. Even some of the GD only refer to his phenomenal magic as the show of good characteristics.

Yuno and Asta, assuming they both have the same amount of missions and effort put into this, would've had the same position if it wouldn't have been for the Court Rulings and Banishment. And that's what makes Yuno being Vice Captain rather unbelievable or just straight up condescending. Even if the Court Ruling DIDNT apply, it makes no sense for the position to be given to someone who's been in the magic Knights for about 2 years.

The fan club, again, feels like a superficial way to state that "people like Yuno". Yuno is considered handsome, yes, but a fan club usually can't survive off of being handsome alone. There's no actual show of when, how or why this club formed. It sure as hell couldn't have formed in 6 months, even if they're made up of civilians as well. I know the anime has made some supplementary episode on this, but again, the "we accept you" moment feels backhanded.

We know Charlotte has a fan club, but they're all part of her squad. We're not given any example if there's civilians in her fanclub, or if there are other fanclubs dedicated to other famous magic knights.

Even if there wasn't any animosity, for these people to take like a year to accept a new recruit? This fanclub feels more like a representation of actual Yuno fans than a statement that people like Yuno.

The solidarity between him and William. My brother in Clover, where did all of this come from. I'm pretty sure Yuno would've been more pissed about the fact that William chose Yuno because of the elf soul in him. He's not, maybe he doesn't care, but there's not... a whole lot of ANYTHING. It's another case of tell and not show, but maybe because of the timeskip, it feels a bit fake.

The worst of it is, arguably, the moment where he calls out the Captains for keeping William at arms length for the Elf incident.

I want to remind yall, All Of Yall, that the Elf incident didn't just possess the Knights of Golden Dawn, but also EVERYONE ELSE IN THE MAGIC KNIGHTS. 3 (4 if you count Kaiser) WHOLE captains got possessed, SEVERAL vice captains and many other Knights who started blowing shit up all over the kingdom. Patri "killed" Julius in front of Yami, Fuegoleon got ROBBED AND LOST AN ARM due to machinations of the Midnight Sun, Nozel almost DIED in front of his family during the incident, and Jack pretty much had to go and juggle all this shit as the only other non possessed Captain besides Yami in dealing in this.

Like YEAH, no SHIT that they haven't forgiven him, this affected EVERYONE'S bodily autonomy, health and survival. William, bless this homosexual, is a war criminal and I'm pretty sure the Court Rulings, while politically sane, was the only reason his ass wasn't on trial. It's been 6 months, yeah, but the incident has made everyone's life in some way harder and the kingdom's stability worse. They have the right to be mad about this. Even Yuno admits it, he can't blame them for the animosity but at the same time, he's acting like them being mad about it is unwarranted.

Yuno, your autism is bad, I understand, but look back, literally less than 30 chapters ago, and ask yourself, would you be mad as fuck at your coworker if they almost killed everyone? Yes? Because as far as I'm concerned, the moment between Yami, William and Tiny Julius was a closed incident, one that did not have other captains involved. They did not see that shit, maybe they were briefed, but the emotional turmoil was absolutely necessary about this. We're not given the briefing of the captains when William would have had to come clean in front of them. Wish we did, considering how it would've made this moment much more cathartic.

But all this is not the worst offence to Yuno's character. The Prince revelation is.

The thing is, up until this arc, Yuno's behavior might be a bit off putting, but he's still technically a peasant who just so happens to have a lot of mana. The talent and mana was more so his and his alone. His talent made from effort, his mana who he just so happened to he born with. No fancy family, no fancy secret heritage. Just pure, raw autism fueled power.

The Prince revelation essentially smacks it all off of the table and just makes the excuse "of course Yuno is talented and full of mana, he's Foreign Royalty!". Hell, fucking NOZEL makes a "that explains everything" statement.. It's disheartening, cheap and just makes any effort that Yuno previously put into honing his skills feel fake. It is arguably the reason I pray that Asta never gets any secret family bloodline, because its souring the whole character arc and if Asta got that, Tabata might as well cancel the series because that would be a slap to the face for those who wanted Asta to be a winning underdog.

ARC 3: THE PEDESTAL OF BEING IMPORTANT BUT NOT INVOLVED.

This arc has lasted, maybe a bit over 30 chapters (332-369), and it has made not one good thing about Yuno.

Remember the statement I made previously? "Always in the middle of important events, but never when it really matters"? Yeah, no arc shows it as much as this one.

The start of this arc is Lucius attacking Asta's promotion celebration party, a long awaited party to celebrate Asta getting Senior Magic Knight, First Class. 3rd overall, and first in that ranking, essentially saying that Asta's next position would be Grand Magic Knight. In the same title, Fuegoleon says that Asta and Yuno SHOULD have been on the same ranking as Grand Magic Knights, but doesn't say why. Even so, they're not at a relatively similar position of ranking. Most Knights in this ranking are either captains or vice captain level.

This is, naturally, an important event. Orsi, Lily and the kids from the church are there! The captains are there! But not Yuno.

It's implied that Yuno got to Grand Magic Knight within the timeskip, and Asta only managed to get Senior Magic Knight after he was pardoned. But even so, Asta went and celebrated and congratulated it with Yuno. We don't see Yuno's reaction. Only the statement that Asta was always ahead of him. It sounds like ignorance of privilege at this point.

Yuno was out because he, the Golden members and Black Bull members, who have experience with devil activity, were away to investigate it. Unfortunate, but hopeful thinking makes you wonder if he had plans to congratulate Asta after the party, or come in late but still in time for it.

The reality of the matter is that Yuno showed up after the party, after Lucius went and fought Asta and missing quite literally everything. He even says that the attack Adrammelech planned was a feint. Was he not considering the idea that maybe if this was a feint, then something WORSE is going on somewhere else??? Even more so that he went and obliterated high ranking devils in an instant. Hell, with them all gathering in the min hall, it gives the impression that Yuno arrived to this meeting late enough for everyone to gather.

It's almost as if they're treating Yuno's reaction to the events are more important than, you know, actually participating in the events. Noelle and Nero had experience in devils too, but they didn't participate. They actually went and tried to help Asta when he was down! Even the Captains got out to try and help! And yet for Yuno, he's just reacting to it with the promise of vengeance, when nobody knows if vengeance will actually bring Asta back.

This isn't the only moment either. The magic Knights tournament, the golden dawn massacre, and this is a trend in Yuno being involved in the important and big battles, sure, but he's never in the moments that matter in terms of showing the actual presence of the character or weight to the plot. He's almost like a filler character who only shows up in major incidents at this point. Fucking SEKKE has more emotional weight to the plot at this point (I jest but what if).

The arc is, at this point, still ongoing and MAYBE the current state of Yunos character will change (I pray).

But, if I had to give my two cents, my idea of what would make Yuno's character more solid would be the contrast of Yuno who has all the gifts and Yuno who's only got his effort left.

That is to say, put Yuno in a situation where his efforts and abilities are put to the test by reducing/negating his powerups.

One version of this, is that Lucius somehow gets close enough to reach his soul, Elf Yuno takes the brunt to save Yuno, and now Yuno is down to only his Star Grimoire.

Another version, is that Adrammelech vs Yuno happens.

Yuno vs Adrammelech where Adrammelechs (supposed or proposed) Sun magic cancels out Star magic and his wind magic is entirely limited. A fight where Yuno can't rely on his massive magic to fight Adrammelech and can only use weapons made from spirit magic and wind as agility against him.

"Take away the talent and magic and what are you left with" type of fight. It would also add some zest to Adrammelech if he's fighting Yuno PURPOSEFULLY, to separate Asta and him from the fight with Lucius and make it an Asta vs Lucius Rematch while holding his own rematch with Yuno.

If its not, then having the Lucius vs Asta and Yuno might be more of a redemption scenario to Yuno missing the key moments of the party fight. Like how Yuno on his own is kinda struggling due to Lucius using numbers, Asta on his own needed to have hostages used against him. But if they both show up at the same time, then they can counter each others weaknesses.

Those are just some possibilities, and I have no idea how Tabata is gonna spin this, but fuck! Let's hope he doesn't fumble!

[taschamonnii]

More Than A Woman - Part 2 (You Slipped Me A Potion) 

Read Part 1

You x Shirley Carter (70s-80s Southern Housewife Original Character  - Elizabeth Olsen) 

*Disclaimer/Summary: This completely Fictional Character is based on the way Lizzie plays old-fashioned Housewives. (Some inspo is taken from WandaVision, I Saw The Light, and Love & Death) This character is in no way a portrayal of any real-life people. Audrey Williams and Candy Montgomery were real people that Lizzie has portrayed for entertainment purposes in tv & film. This story is not about them. I just want to see Lizzie play a 70s-80s housewife that is secretly Gay and stuck in a religious small-town in the South. Since she has never done that but has played the part of perfect housewife I decided to make my own character.* I will be using edited pictures from the characters she has played and unaltered gifs since it's way too hard to edit those.*

Character Description since this is a made up character: mid length-wavy-dark brown hair (think more the length in I saw the Light like it falls to her collar bones but the deep dark brown from goth Wanda era, Emerald Green eyes, Wears form fitting dresses and high waisted pants and skirts.  

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Angst/Smut/Fluff

TW: SMUT, 18+, Cheating on husbands to be GAY together, 

I am so obsessed with Lizzie playing housewife that I made a playlist! More Than A Woman

AN: This is part Two to this Original Series

Word Count: 3,945

Imagine This:

Every single time you close your eyes you find that intense emerald gaze staring back at you. You don’t even have to close your eyes, your mind is trapped in the moment, trapped in your truck…Your truck, that now has a different smell to it and god it’s devine. Her perfume lingered and the smell of her skin is still so fresh in your mind that it has you distracted and daydreaming every moment of the day. She is consuming your every thought. Her lips, eyes, skin, hair, and god her freckles. You can’t escape her and never want to. You are in this way too deep already but you don’t care. She wants to be smart about things. It is sexy to see her mind work on the logistics and come up with the best possible ways to do things. She is so fucking smart and creative. A few calls and one lunch in the next town over and you have worked out some things to play it on the cautious side.

She loves her family and you are smart enough to know you don’t want to ruin that for her but you are also smart enough to know that maybe her husband isn’t as straight as he seems and you are hopeful for a fun shared future with the Carter’s. Your Theo really likes her John so you are hopeful that maybe in the future there could be a more permanent agreement.

It took some convincing but she agrees to meet at your house after you convince her that two women hanging out around lunch time is not suspicious. You are nervous to let her into your world because you have done this in the past and married women always break your heart but something about Shirley is different. You spent the weekend cleaning your house and organizing everything. 

On Sunday while Theo cooks dinner as per usual he voices his concerns. “Do you think it’s wise to start this so soon? I just mean we are stuck here for a while. I have to not only stabilize the company but get them to a place where they are making progress.”

You sit on the island counter and sip your drink. “I know that, Theo. I appreciate your concerns but she’s different. You said it yourself that her and her husband set off your radar. Maybe this will be our chance to find a couple we could have a real arrangement with. Don’t you think it’s worth the risk?”

He smiles and acts like he is thinking hard “I mean, I guess. Just be careful, Honey.”

“Aren’t I always.”

Theo made extra food so you can warm it up tomorrow for your lunch date. 

You have everything all prepared and set up at your little kitchen nook table when you hear her knock in the pattern she chose to be your little secret knock. You rush to the door and check the mirror there. You are wearing a white button up that is tucked into your jeans. You fluff your hair and take a deep breath before opening the door. 

The smile you had prepared to meet her drops as your gaze devours the beauty in front of you. Your jaw drops and you can’t stop the stupid “Wow!” that leaves your lips. 

She smiles and puckers her lips, a light blush tinting her neck and cheeks. Her brown hair is down in loose curls and she is wearing a stunning maroon dress that falls just past her knees. You are at a loss for words and stand there in shock.

She giggles “Hi.”

You rub the back of your neck “Hi.” 

“Are you going to invite me in or are you just going to keep staring?”

“Shit! Sorry, come in.”

You move aside and gesture for her to come in and watch unashamed as her hips sway to carry her into your house. The dress hugs her curves and it is a sight to see. She looks around soaking in all the details of your house. Your decorations are more funky and fresh than most the houses in this town since you brought your things from Cali. You shut your door and lock it. 

“This is the front room obviously.”

“Obviously. What is that delicious smell?”

“Oh um, lunch, here.”

You head to the kitchen and she follows, still looking around trying to absorb every detail. She sets her bag down on your kitchen island and tosses her sunglasses next to it. She smiles as she observes you filling both glasses with sun tea. 

You pull out a chair and gesture for her to take it. “Why thank you.”

You take the seat across from her with a smile. You take a sip of your tea trying to calm your nerves. Something about having her here is overwhelming. 

She takes a nervous sip of her tea as well. You set your glass down and run your fingers over the edge. “I have a confession, I’m a bit nervous.”

“I am too. It’s thrillin’ you know. A simple lunch is so much more now. The world on the way over seemed brighter, more full of color than it has in a long time.”

“You really put it great and it’s even more than that for me. I thought moving here was going to be awful. Back in Cali everything is so bright and colorful and people are just different and more open to the endless possibilities of life. I was scared my life would turn into a boring black and white movie. It doesn’t feel like 1976 here, sometimes it feels like the 60s. But there you were in bright colors smiling at me like you are right now.”

She lets out an adorable giggle and averts her gaze to the food. “Well, I think you have a way with words, y/n.”

“It’s actually my secret talent.” You give her a cheeky smile and wink. 

“What do you mean Secret talent?”

“Well, I work as an author. I Write under different names.”

“Oh that’s fascinating. You must show me sometime.”

“I’d love to, as long as I get to read some of your writing sometime in exchange. I know you said you’ve written a few songs.”

“Really? Well, that would make one of you, ‘cause John has no interest, and I read all his boring stuff-”

“Mmm, do you want to talk about him?”

She shakes her head with a bit of a grimacing face.

“No, sorry. We’re definitely,” She sets down her glass with a smile aimed at the table as she gestures with her hands, “Not.”

She sighs and looks up at you as she licks her lips. 

You smile softly.

“I think we are both a little overwhelmed. This feels more real and significant, let's just go slow, let's just start with lunch.”

She nodded. “Yeah this feels like my life will never be the same. Slow is good. The food does look good”

You nod and pick up your fork and dig into the food. She does the same and dramatically moans at her first bite “Mmm, wow a woman of many talents, this is very good, y/n.”

“Oh well you can thank Theo sometime he made it. I don’t cook worth shit.”

She laughs and it fills your body with joy. “You don’t cook?”

“No I don’t do any cooking, actually I’m a bit of a fire hazard according to my Theo. I’m not allowed in the kitchen unsupervised except to re-heat things and make beverages.”

“I bet I could teach you. It’s really rather easy.”

“Well, any excuse to see you I will happily take.”

The blush that creeps up her neck makes you giddy. Small talk continues and the meal is quickly finished. But there is still an air of hesitation so you both slowly start to clean up. She insists on cleaning up. It’s oddly soothing to do the dishes with her like you are domestic together. It makes your heart ache because you are doubtful you will ever get that full-time. 

You give her a house tour. You show her your shared home office and even give her a glance at Theo’s room when she asks about it. You end it at the door of your room. You open the door and pull her into the room. She wonders the space of your room and decides to lean against your dresser as you shut and lock your door. You turn to her and the air grows heavy. Her gaze travels your body and you can see her eyes darken. 

You move to stand before her and place your hands on her hips. You feel her shiver at your touch and you know that she feels the intensity. Her hands go to your shoulders and run up your neck and into your hair. You glance at her lips and then her eyes and back to her lips then capture her lips softly. She sighs out in relief and digs her fingers into your hair to pull you closer. She licks at your bottom lip quickly moving to deepen and intensify the kiss. You grunt trying to keep up. Teeth scrape and tongues meet and the fire is set free between the two of you. You quickly unzip her dress and pull it down. You both step out of shoes and the spaghetti strap slip she has on is a silky and sheer little red thing. Her cleavage looks incredible.

You grab her waist and lift her up off the ground just slightly, making her gasp and part from your lips. You spin around and take a step so that the back of her legs hit the mattress as you set her back on the ground. She makes quick work of your button up shirt. You move your hands down to your waist and undo your jeans and pull them and your panties down which stops her from being able to fully remove your shirt. It's fully unbuttoned and reveals your body to her enough to satisfy her gaze. She puts one of her legs on the mattress behind her and works to scoot and lay down at the same time keeping her slip on. You smirk and follow her on your knees. 

You place a hand next to her to hold you up and run your hand from her calf up under her slip. You take your time feeling her smooth skin and bite your bottom lip as you look down at her. Her emerald gaze is intense and it is hypnotizing. She has angel eyes that say so much. Your hand is inches away from where you know she wants you but you remove it in a flash you pull at the fabric covering her and bunch it up. You adjust so your legs intertwine and she gasps when she feels your thigh against her and you sigh as you press your own wet core against her thigh. She pulls you closer forcing your body weight to be more on her. She captures your lips roughly. 

She moans against you as you both begin to grind your hips. Her jaw has dropped open leaving her mouth wide open as she pants and moans. "Ah ah ah!" 

Her moans are so breathy and hot against your skin they make you shudder. One of her hands is in your hair and the other has a death grip on your shoulder. Her legs are so fucking soft against yours. You feel overwhelmed by the tangled mess you are in. She smells so sweet and feels so good and her long legs are strong you can feel her muscles flex against you and it's sending you barrelling towards the edge. 

"Mmm oh Shirley! Fuck!" 

You both begin to get more erratic in your movements and you can tell she is just as close. You both stare into each other's eyes as you cum. 

"Oh Y/n! Ah! AH!"

"Yes! Oh!"

Both your hips buck hard and falter as muscles contract and squeeze and legs tremble. You can't hold yourself up any longer and collapse fully on top of her. Making her gasp and grip your shoulder harder. You breathe against her and she breathes against you.

You kiss her shoulder as you come back to reality and roll off her. She turns and lays half on top of you. You look at her and brush her hair back "Are you okay?"

"More than. That was wow! Are you okay?"

“Mmm, wow indeed.”

She bites her bottom lip. "Thank you, y/n."

"No Shirley, thank you!"

She giggles and leans up to kiss you once again. Softer this time, less urgent. You match her kiss and tangle your hands in her hair. She pulls away slowly. She licks her lips and puckers them to the side, something you have come to learn means she's thinking about something. 

"What is it?"

"Hmm?" 

"You are doing that thing with your lips, like you are thinking about something and want to say something. What is it?"

"I, well, I read this book."

She bites her bottom lip again and you nod patiently. You run your hand over her back enjoying the moist silky soft fabric on your fingertips.

"In this book these two women, they, well, do something and I am not sure if it is realistic or even feels as good as the book made it sound I'm just thinking about it." 

"Mmm, I see. Some lesbian literature has piqued your interest in trying some things?"

"Precisely."

"What exactly are you curious about?"

She licks her lips then sucks them in together and shakes her head as she purses them tighter. You pull her chin and make her look at you. "What is it? You can tell me." 

"I don't know what it's called or how to say it really."

"Hmm is it what I said I wanted to do in the truck?"

"No, I mean I want that too, at some point."

A smirk grows on your lips "At some point indeed, I will definitely have my tongue buried inside you. But if it's not that, I need more information."

"Can I just try to show you?" 

You raise an eyebrow at her "oh honey you can do whatever you like."

A nervous sort of giddy smile takes over her face and you are hyper aware of the effect it has on you. She moves all the way on top of you and fits herself between your legs. The fabric of her slip bunched up under her breasts as she adjusted and the spaghetti straps fell down giving you the breathtaking view of her breasts hanging as she lifted herself up slightly. She moves and in an instant your attention is on the sensation of her wet center pressed against yours. Your gaze shoots from her breasts to her dark green eyes. “Oh damn, Shirley. Okay I know what you are after.”

“You do so this is a real thing? I don’t really know how to do it.”

You hold her hips and nod “it’s real, just difficult.” 

You move your legs and angle your hips as you hold her hips until you get just the right angle. 

"Ah"

"Yeah? Is that good?" 

You move against her again and watch her reaction carefully. "Mmm yeah, so good."

"Mmm good. Move your hips like this."

You move your hands to her ass and move her hips against yours. "Do whatever feels best to you." 

"Mmm"

You hold her hips loosely and let her take control. She begins to move a sigh falling from her lips. You watch her as she holds herself up more to get more leverage. The spaghetti straps of her slip fall further down her shoulders. Her cleavage is so sexy and the way she moves her hips is memorizing. She changes the angle and moves harder against you and you throw your head back at the perfect wet friction. In unison you both moan.

"Oh fuck!" - "Ah AH!"

She looks down at you and manages to do it again "there?"

You lock your gaze on hers and nod "there!"

She repeats the motion and you are honestly overwhelmed. For being more of a novelty that you don’t usually prefer, this feels so good. A voice in your head tells you that it’s because of her and you can’t deny that. Everything with her is beyond anything you’ve ever experienced before. You are falling way too hard for her but how could you not?

Her  breathy moans are so hot and her grip on your shoulders and upper chest is definitely going to leave a mark. Her hips are magical.

“Ah ah AAAHHH!”

“Fuck Shirley! YES AHH!”

You watch in awe as her eyebrows furrow and her mouth opens even wider as her eyes shoot to the ceiling. “Oh Y/N-OH-GOD OH!”

You feel her release and it sends you spiraling off the edge into your own release. You two are soaked. She leans forward and moans into a sloppy kiss. “Mmm”

“Mmm-hmm.”

You hold her in your arms both of you sweaty disasters. Once you both catch your breath you let out a soft laugh. “You know most people don’t call me god, but I kind of liked it coming from you.”

She props herself up slightly and smacks your shoulder playfully “SHUT UP!” 

You smirk playfully. “Make me!”

She puckers her lips to the side and attempts to tickle your sides but you are unphased by her rapid assault. “Oh come on you are not ticklish?”

You grab her hips in a flash, flip her over and pin her to the bed as you tickle her and a burst of laughter escapes her sweet lips. “Sorry a tickle attack won’t work on me but I see it works on you.”

She is gasping for breaths between laughter “Not fair! Okay! Okay!”

You shake your head “Huh-uh, I want to hear you call me God again.”

“Fuck you, GOD!” 

You stop your tickling assault and burst out in laughter. “Oh you just did that, did you want to go again?”

“You are ridiculous!”

“But you like it. Don’t you, Shirley?”

She rolls her eyes “maybe.”

You smile and lean in to rapidly kiss her lips and cheeks and chin. She grabs the back of your neck and captures your lips in a rough kiss that she slowly releases. You are left stunned and she smiles evilly “you know I like you.”

You give her a crooked sort of smile, “even when I’m being ridiculous?” 

She grins. “Especially.”

You kiss her lips quickly then flip over to the side tired from your delightful afternoon activities. 

“Shit, I’m a mess!”

You laugh. “A hot mess.”

She gets up quickly “No, I mean I need to shower.”

You sit up. “Let's shower then.”

You get up and throw your sweaty button up into the hamper by your dresser and walk toward the master bath. You can feel her gaze on your ass as you pass her and it's so satisfying. That is until she enters the bathroom behind you and removes the straps of her slip and lets the thin fabric fall to the ground. Your jaw drops and you shake your head as you observe her bare form. She was crafted by a woman who LOVES the female form. She has soft curves and firm muscles and the longest fucking legs and the cutest tummy and perky breasts and your mind can’t keep up! 

“You’re drooling darlin’.”

You snap back to reality, closing your mouth and running your hands over your face. “I can’t really help it, have you seen yourself!?!”

She tilts her head with a silly crooked grin. “Please, look at you.”

“Forget me! You are a piece of art! How the fuck are you even real and HOW the FUCK did John manage to get your attention he looks so orinary and you are an actual goddess.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a step closer to you. “Anyone ever tell you that you are the most dramatic person they’ve ever met?”

You see right through her though the deep blush that appears on her skin is beautiful. You shake your head with a sly smile. “No never, I’m known for being brutally honest actually.”

She shakes her head as she tries to contain her smile. You lean in and capture her lips with a smile on your own lips. She wraps her arms around your shoulders and presses herself against you and you hold her hips softly. You could stay like this with her forever. She pulls back first slowly and you both sigh. “Alright smooth talker I really need to shower. I have to pick up Madison and Marissa at three.”

You can’t help the pout that takes over your face as reality hits you. “Don’t give me that face. It’s not fair.”

“I know they come first and I think your girls are wonderful. I just wish I was John. He’s so lucky.”

Her gaze softened and she leaned in and kissed you softly and you could feel she understood you. You gave her a soft smile as she pulled back. You took her hand and pulled her into the shower. A comforting silence envelopes your bathroom. The only sound is the water as you wait for it to heat up a bit. When it feels like a good temp you get your hair wet and sigh as the water soothes your sore muscles. You move after you have had a decent rinse and switch places with Shirley. 

You watch as she closes her eyes and lets the water run through her hair and down her face and body. She sighs and wipes the water away from her eyes with both hands. She opens her eyes and finds your stare. Her gaze locks onto yours and the softest smile takes over her delicate and bare features. The few freckles on her face make her look delicate. Her gaze makes your knees weak. Her emerald eyes are so intense and full of something that terrifies you. The look she gives you has your heart aching. You are falling for her. She is so soft that you can't stop your own heart eyes from forming. Your gaze softens and your smile reaches your eyes. You are both locked in this silent stare of being in awe of each other. Her sweet southern accent and voice are soft as she says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

You tilt your head at her and quirk an eyebrow and wait for more. “Thank you for seeing me.” 

You sigh happily “I couldn’t really help that. The second you caught my eye you were, are, all I see.”

She sucks her bottom lip as a blush cascades from her cheeks to her ears and down her neck to her chest. Seeing her blush bare like this is something you want more of. “Besides the second you saw me you slipped me a potion. Just like Leo Sayer says in that song.” 

You sing the lyrics that remind you of her imitating the singer as best as you can. “You got a cute way of talking, you got the better of me, just snap your fingers and I’m walking, like a dog hanging on your lead.” 

Her blush deepens and she laughs and you feel like you have won the game of life just being able to experience her joy let alone be the cause of it.

She imitates the singer and sings the next part as she shakes and shimmies her shoulders “You make me feel like dancing, wanna dance the night away!”

You join in singing the popular song and laugh and shimmy.

A/N: If this didn’t make you smile like an idiot then seek help because I was smiling like an idiot as I wrote it! 

[sholangagaga]

So yk how Fredbear and Spring Bonnie's chips were passed down? Did they do the same with Chica and Foxy later on in your AU?

Yep! Fredbears original chip was passed down to the Freddies (which is why none of the Freddies are able to exist/be active at the same time EXCEPT Funtime Freddy. his chip is a clone made by William)

Spring Bonnie's chip was actually cloned THREE times (Three times by William, one was given to Fazbear Entertainment for their Bonnie, and twice later which was put in BonBon and Bonnett) but his original chip remained with his old body, which is why he was still active in the main story and able to talk with other Bonnies

Chica and Foxy's chips were cloned by William as well (Funtime Foxy and Funtime Chica), but their chips were passed down normally to their other incarnations. The exclusion however is Roxanne. She's technically a descendant of Foxy, however she doesn't harbor his original mother chip. Because a Glamrock Foxy already exists, her chip is more of a newer model rather than a clone. So technically, Roxy is more like his daughter than a different version of the same character

[chaoticgeminate]

Connector

Part 10 is here, I took a long time on this one because I couldn't decide if I'd moved things too fast or not. As per usual this is not beta'd so any mistakes you spot, let me know and I can fix it❣

Rating: T (Mentions of depression, past of suicidal thoughts, bad family and loss)

Word Count: 4,067

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Part Nine | Part 10.5** | Part 11

“Food break.”

Missy’s announcement made Marcus look up from his laptop, the rapid typing from the small table in his home study slowed as Eleanora looked up, and the shadows beginning to form under her eyes were starting to worry him. Marcus knew she wasn’t sleeping well given how hard the BOP was pushing for new security systems nationwide after the Monkshood situation, the CIA had taken custody of Jackson and there was still no clues on how he’d managed to just drop off the grid even though the HQ analytics were going over endless lists of receipts and finding whatever trails they could with his new identity’s spending trail.

After a worried call from her friends about her not coming home after work still Marcus had sat her down, asked her why she thought she had to put so much of her time into it, and honestly he hadn’t quite expected her response. Afraid to use her powers to speed up the process in any way, because she was worried her already fragile emotions would be ruined if she spent even a moment outside of herself, and he was starting to understand the push better. Eleanora was afraid that she wasn’t going to be seen as reliable without her powers, that they still defined who she was and what she was capable of, and Marcus had cried for her then.

It was still so hard to see her struggle with self-confidence and self-discovery, especially this close to the holiday season when everything else around them was starting to center around joy and peace and love, and he watched as Missy handed Eleanora a bowl of pasta before he went over to join them. It was technically supposed to be a day off for all of them but analytics had found a small lead connecting Liam Williams with Jackson Lowell and Marcus had decided that they could spend a few hours working from home as long as Eleanora agreed to sleep. Two nights in a row he’d woken up in the middle of the night to find her toiling away at her laptop, buzzed from anxiety and lacking the ability to sleep, and while he knew what he wanted to do so she could rest Marcus wasn’t sure that step forward for them would be good this early into their relationship and at this current point in time.

Eleanora closed her laptop and set it aside, taking the bowl of pasta from Missy and leaning on his daughter as the teenager dropped to sit on the floor beside her, and the hero caged his girlfriend in by sitting on her other side. “We’ll work for another hour and then stop, so we can go to the Christmas Market together.” Missy perked up and Eleanora nodded through her mouthful of food since she knew he’d call in the troops to force her to stop her work, all of her friends had reached out with their contact information for him so they could be a support network if Eleanora tried to hide away, and Marcus only had to resort to calling them once.

“Can we get a photo by the big tree, so we can send it to Granny and Gramps and Abuela?”

“Of course, mija.”

Eleanora’s body sagged slightly and Marcus glanced at her face, spotting the longing in her eyes, and that stayed with him after Missy came in to finish up her weekend homework before they set out. It stayed with him as they walked the market and Eleanora’s smile was haunted by this longing with each step, each look at the lights and sounds, and it stayed with him as he asked another woman to take a picture of him and his girls in front of the oversized tree.

Marcus waited until that evening when they were getting ready for bed, the following day was their guaranteed time off work, and Eleanora was already under the covers when he came into the room from changing; he was still unable to shake the guilt that came from looking at his other bed and Marcus had honestly gotten to the point that he was considering just getting a new everything for the master bedroom, or just moving permanently downstairs as a less extreme route. The only real benefit to the master bedroom was the en suite, which actually was a pretty big feature, but it wasn’t exactly necessary.

As he slid under the blankets Marcus found himself with an armful of a soft body, the fact that she’d closed the distance to cling to him was enough of a warning sign. “Hey, you’re okay, I’m here. Wanna talk about whatever is going on up here?” His glasses were left on the bedside table and Marcus could feel the slight tremor in Eleanora’s frame as she pressed herself as close as possible to him, he tapped her forehead for emphasis and she shook her head no before pausing and nodding.

“I had that appointment, you know, and we- we talked about my mother. About how- how she treated me growing up and I’ve been stuck with the sudden reminder that I have no idea who anyone in my family is. Missy told me about her grandparents, about Melisa’s family, and how they invited you two out West for the New Year and I just keep being reminded that I’m it for me. That the most I have to go back to is this tiny little trailer park where an old woman may or may not still be.” Marcus had always suspected family was a topic for Eleanora that was hard, if not impossible, for her to handle; knowing that she never knew her father or his family at all created a touch of resentment toward her mother deep in him.

His arms tightened around her and Marcus hummed as he collected his reply. “Maybe,” Keeping his tone careful was a necessity here. “maybe you’re right and your father’s family wanted to find you, but never could?” He knew that her mother’s family had willingly not been involved, she’d confessed long before he asked her out back when she rescued him that they’d disowned Diana because of their racist mindset about having a grandchild with Mexican heritage, but part of him imagined that her father’s family likely wanted to be involved and then had gotten shut out. It was a theory that Eleanora herself admitted to believing but she’d never once been courageous enough to seek them out, the fear that they wouldn’t want her in their lives keeping her from doing so, and Marcus wondered if finding the Caballero family would be overstepping.

Probably.

But hearing Eleanora admit to feeling left out of familial celebrations was different than seeing the longing in her eyes, knowing that she’d gone thirty-four years without knowing anything about her extended family on either side, and he felt her go lax in his hold as the tension escaped her. But it wasn’t from feeling relieved, he knew she was just exhausted and tired and drained entirely, and Marcus dragged her face up to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Eleanora sighed softly and her hands came up to play with the hair curling at the back of his neck as she nuzzled her cheek to his, chaste kisses pressed to his scruff as her legs brushed his own.

He wrapped her close, keeping her grounded in the moment, and Eleanora whimpered against his ear as he let one hand slide down her side to pull her as close as possible and wind their legs together. “I’m here, Eleanora, I’m here with you right now and I will be for as long as you want me to be.” He could feel the immediate release of tension, a proper release of tension this time rather than surrender, and Marcus smiled into her hair as Eleanora whispered her gratitude into his neck.

Tucker looked grim as he set a folder of information down on her desk, it made Eleanora blink rapidly and stare at him as he stepped back, and she wished more than anything that Marcus was here right now. He’d flown out West with Missy to visit Melisa’s family a week ago and Anita had gone with them, since the warm weather would be good for her, leaving Eleanora with HQ on her own and the Jackson mystery. “Is this going to be bad?” The question felt loaded but it was the only way she could ask and Tucker nodded quietly, sitting down in the seat across from her as Eleanora opened the folder, but her throat tightened painfully as she stared at the list of names on the pages and the lines connecting them.

“I wanted to wait but, well, if you want us to make the move I’d rather do it before they know-“

“Do it, they’re- it doesn’t matter who they are Tucker.”

His head bobbed and Eleanora leaned back in her chair as he left, to rally the team and contact all the authorities necessary, while she was left with the thick file of information. The name Diana Kinsley was crossed off in red, connected to the name Omar Caballero with a red line, and her own name was sitting between them; but worse was that the lines of names leading to her mother were all interconnected; her own family had been behind the attempted coup on Heroics HQ and her capture.

Transcripts of phone calls, records of e-mails, all referring to her as the asset were there in black and white; they hadn’t wanted shit to do with her until Addison told Jackson about her powers. Learning that Jackson was actually her cousin struck Eleanora the hardest, he’d left Texas because he’d made a bad investment and wanted to repent by doing something big in New York and the moment Addison started fooling around with him and told him about Eleanora’s powers he’d seen dollar signs and a golden future as the favorite child of the family.

Grief slammed through her as the little items in the office reacted to the static that she’d begun discharging, her head clasped in her hands as wetness gathered in her eyes, and Eleanora sagged against the desk surface to cry as the team began the process of arresting her mother’s family for all of charges they could put against them. Tax evasion, forgery, embezzlement, kidnapping, and treason against the Heroics were the heaviest on the list. An hour had to have passed before Kelsey, James, Lucas, and Beth showed up in the office with Rachel letting them in; the secretary offered a sympathy-laden smile and prepped a pot of tea while Eleanora’s friends stayed there with her as her support system.

What she didn’t count on was the way her phone began to ring, both her personal and her work phone, and Eleanora heard James exhale a laugh as he answered the personal cell. “Hey Moreno, she’s here, hang on.” Eleanora perked up and lifted her head from her arms, Marcus’ worried face filling her phone screen as James propped it up using the pen cup, and she sniffled as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“Tech just told me everything, pícara, I- I’m so sorry I’m not there-“

“Don’t do that, Marcus, don’t apologize. We didn’t- it wasn’t even a possibility that crossed my mind and him bringing me this now is just a coincidence. I’m- I’m not okay but I’m not alone.”

Eleanora could hear the thick sound of her voice from how long she’d spent crying, she knew her friends were trying to not hover but she appreciated that they weren’t too far, and Marcus’ expression was tight with the coil of longing and remorse even though they both knew she was right.

“Rachel already has everything she needs from Tech and I to handle my side of the paperwork, don’t overdo it trying to get things cleaned up, okay?”

“As if these four are going to allow that to happen? They’re not going to leave me alone until you’re back.”

“Damn right, you’re finally on the track of recovery and we’re not gonna let that change now.” Beth’s reply made Eleanora smile and she could tell Marcus was relaxing, he’d made a remark once that he hated how she didn’t have family to support her and she’d reminded him that her best friends were family, and seeing him accept that her little chosen family was here and not leaving her was enough to see that he was trying to change his built in family archetype mindset.

“Missy wants to have a movie night when we get back, is that okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Okay. If you need me at all I’m a phone call away, Eleanora.”

“I know, Marcus, tell Missy I’m going to be fine.”

He ended the call and she felt her lips lift in a smile, feeling Lucas drape his arm over her shoulder, and her friend poked her gently on the cheek. “I think you need a break.” Eleanora wanted to stay and start compiling the paperwork, to get things closed before the year ended officially, but as she stared at the papers she decided against it and followed her friends out for a lunch break out of the office.

He was on her before she even closed the door but Marcus couldn’t help himself, he and Missy had spent most of their time away worrying when Tucker sent over the information about Jackson, and Eleanora’s hands gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly as she sank into his arms. These past two weeks had been an anxiety filled hell, he knew from the schedules updated on the shared calendar that Eleanora had visited Doctor Delacroix every other day, and he had been relieved and conflicted in knowing that.

Marcus held Eleanora close in a near crushing grip and could feel the way she went lax in his hold, letting him support her, his exhale was soft as he crouched just a little to put one arm under the curve of her bottom and pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. Neither of them said anything as he laid her down on the rumpled sheets, untouched since his earlier nap, and Marcus shifted his arms so he could hold her as she tucked close to his side and chest. “The arrests were cut and dry and they confessed-“ He interrupted her before she could go into it, knowing that it was something they would have to discuss but not wanting to do that here right now.

Instead he tipped her face up and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, his thumb resting on her plush lips as the rest of his hand cradled her jaw. “I can feel how much you tensed up, do you really want to talk about that right now or is it that you feel obligated?” His thumb brushed her lip gently and Marcus watched her eyes mist over as she shook her head, brow furrowing slightly, and her voice was softer as she replied.

“I guess- I just want it to be over. Luckily the media hasn’t, and won’t, be told about the connection since they disowned my mother and scrubbed her records from everything related to them but it still- I’ve seen Doctor Delacroix almost every single day since Tucker gave me that file and I just can’t help but wish I’d never been born with powers at all. More than usual, anyway.” He kissed her again and Marcus found his own eyes misting over, looking up in the doorway as the soft creak alerted him, and Missy’s eyes were wet with tears before she was joining them in the bed and clinging to Eleanora’s back.

He smiled when Eleanora shifted to curl around Missy instead, moving to spoon against her, and the sense of right seeing Eleanora depend on them for comfort and peace had his chest aching. Having her wish she’d been born without powers was an improvement and she knew it, he was more than aware of what she might’ve been wishing for prior to getting therapy and support, and his lips lifted into a fond smile as Missy and Eleanora both drifted off to sleep again before he removed his glasses and let his body relax knowing they were here together and safe.

When he woke up Marcus was alone in bed, hearing the soft whispers and muted laughter from the living room, and as he fumbled for his glasses the hero stretched and emerged only to find Missy sitting in front of Eleanora; he watched Eleanora’s hands work to braid Missy’s hair in a rather intricate twist and looping of plaits and couldn’t help but smile as he spotted the black outlines down Eleanora’s arm. His eyes lifted from them to the kitchen where the timer was ticking down, the scent of something cheesy in the air, and when he looked back he had two separate smiles aimed at him.

“Did I interrupt girl’s time?” Missy laughed openly at his remark and patted the floor beside her, bowl of popcorn half empty already as some teenage rom-com played on the television, and Marcus studied the screen as the kids in the cafeteria burst out into song.

“No, I just wanted to get something in the oven and Missy woke up when I moved. How’d you sleep?” He tipped his head up to look at Eleanora and was relieved to see that she looked more relaxed, the dark circles were still there but he knew that those would go away soon once they got everything settled with the Lowell case. They shared a look at the screen as Missy huffed loudly and Marcus frowned slightly at what he was hearing.

Eleanora leaned down to tap her forehead against the crown of Missy’s head gently even as she kept braiding. “Talk about the worst media for teenagers trying to figure out who they are and what they want to do, huh? You know stuff like this isn’t important, right Swiss Miss?” The smile that Missy responded with killed every little shred of anxiety in his gut before it could take root and he bit his cheek to keep quiet when he heard the nickname.

“I know, besides I’m a hero so I’m automatically cooler than any silly rom-com from Disney.” Marcus relaxed more hearing how confident she was now, after the whole fake take-over he’d been optimistic, and the changes from his baby girl to now had made him so proud. Eleanora pinned the last braid in place and Marcus smiled as Eleanora traded places and became the subject of Missy’s practicing, his hand sliding over with his palm up, and Missy groaned but didn’t say anything about the action as they decided to watch the movie.

He had to admit he was glad that the ending was focused on breaking stereotypes and as Missy stretched he heard the low chime of her phone, the braid in Eleanora’s hair long finished and draped over her right shoulder as she leaned on him, but Marcus could tell that his little girl had just been invited to spend time with her friends when she cast a torn look at them. “Are you staying here Eleanora?” He earned a nod as his girlfriend got up, the dishes from her spinach chorizo casserole in hand to head to the sink, and Missy’s eyes sparked with relief.

“Can I go to Olivia’s house for the Avatar episode release?” Marcus nodded and had to resist the urge to chuckle as Missy texted her friend back, how she’d become so close with someone she met at the mall buying new bras was still a mystery to him but Olivia’s parents were good people and she lived in walking distance so Marcus was less worried about her going. When she scampered upstairs to change and grab her things he went over to help dry the dishes as Eleanora set them on the strainer and as the door closed behind Missy he chuckled softly with a shake of his head, using a dish towel to get rid of the excess water before putting everything away.

As Eleanora dried her hands Marcus found a place in the fridge for the remaining bit of casserole, it worked out well since he had to get some things from the grocery store the following day and at least now he wouldn’t have to rush to cook something for dinner.

“Thank you, for earlier, I know you’re going to say that it’s okay and that it’s because you care but I still want you to know that I appreciate how much you pay attention to what I need and how much I can handle emotionally.”

Eleanora fiddled with the hem of her wrinkled shirt after speaking up and he opened his arms for her, they sighed together as she stepped into his embrace, and Marcus pressed his lips to her temple as she gripped the back of his tee shirt. “You’re right, it’s because I care about you so deeply that I pay attention, Eleanora. I do want to talk, it’s not anything bad though, I just wanted to get some things off my chest that I’ve come to realize while we were gone.” He was glad when she nodded against him and led him back to the couch and he pulled her to lay against him, her back warm against his chest, and her head was tipped up against his body to look at him.

He mulled over where to start and her encouraging smile made his heart skip. “I had a long talk with Melisa’s parents after Missy brought you up, we didn’t tell them about your status as a vigilante prior to your role as Director, I promise, and they really understood all my hesitations with us. We talked about the guilt I was feeling, wanting someone that wasn’t Melisa, and my trouble sleeping. They really helped remind me that there was no set time for the grieving process, how some people could start dating right away and others needed years, and I just want you to know that I appreciate how patient you’ve been with me and the things I’m dealing with.” He felt her shift slightly and Marcus could see the protest forming on her lips, he knew she’d counter him about his own patience for her, but he silenced her with a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Eleanora pouted but he kept going. “When Tucker called me with the information on Lowell and your family it felt wrong to be so far away, I knew you had your friends and that if you needed me you’d call but I was so close to rebooking my ticket and leaving Missy with her grandparents to come home early and letting her fly back on her own. I’ve-“ He had to pause, his voice catching a little as the rush of relief and freedom worked through his body.

Talking with Ray and Katie had really, truly, helped him lose most of the lingering fears about moving on. “Melisa will always be a part of my life and hold a place in my heart, but I’m ready to do something for me and accept that it’s okay to move on completely. You’ve become such a large portion of my life, of my heart, and the bond you have with Missy is- I couldn’t ask for a better role model for her. I want you to know that I’m here, for you and her, one-hundred percent.” Eleanora’s lips lifted to show a smile so soft and fond that he couldn’t help the way he leaned down to kiss her, smiling as she grinned against his mouth, and her tongue darted out to tease his lips with a soft sigh.

“Thank you for telling me this, Marcus, for keeping me aware of what’s going on in this noodle of yours.” He chuckled against her lips and her hands found a home in the hair at the base of his neck as Eleanora turned to lay against his body, her touch soft and languid and slow, and he couldn’t help the way he gravitated back to kissing her over and over.

He was so happy to be home.

Part 10.5**

Part Eleven

[potrix-the-queerschlaeger]

layers (like onions)

Random idea of the day that wouldn’t leave me alone; this little future fic. And it’s not like we can’t all use some more Harringrove fluff, right? Can also be found over on AO3.

- - -

Sadie is having the absolutely worst first day at work, and the lunch rush isn't even over yet.

It had started with the fancy coffee maker spitting steam at her when she’d tried to show her new co-worker that she understood how to use it, burning the back of her hand and her wrist. Then the trash bag she’d been carrying to the dumpster out back had ripped, spilling all over her feet and the kitchen floor, so she’d spent fifteen minutes cleaning up while apologising profusely.

And to top it all off, her first table hadn’t tipped at all, even though Sadie had pulled out all the stops, been all friendly smiles and polite small-talk despite the total shitshow her morning had turned out to be.  

Things don’t look much better with her current table, either.

So far, they’ve yelled across the restaurant for her when she hadn’t been fast enough with their drinks, demanded three additional baskets of the complimentary bread, one of them won’t stop making gross comments whenever she has to walk by, and by the look on one of the men’s faces right now, they aren’t happy with their food, either.

Forced smile firmly in place, Sadie approaches their table, ignoring the urge to roll her eyes when one of them clicks his fingers at her.

Before she can so much as ask what seems to be the problem, the scowling man snaps, “This burger has onions on it.”

“Yes, sir,” Sadie tries, summoning up patience only acquired through years of waitressing, “all our burgers come with tomatoes, pickles, and onions—”

“Well, I don’t like onions,” the man says, slowly, glaring up at Sadie. “I didn’t want any onions.”

“Of course, sir, I’m so sorry,” Sadie apologises, instead of demanding, like she really wants to, “Then why the hell did you order a dish with onions in it?”

(Watch out for the break!)

She pulls her notepad out of her pocket, quickly scribbling down an order for a replacement burger, and underlining the no onions three times. “I’ll put a new order in for you right away, sir. Would you like me to add a side dish as well? Free of charge, of course, as an—”

“No, no,” the man cuts in, and throws the burger he’d been holding down hard enough that it slips off his plate, and falls apart on the table. Which only appears to make him angrier. “Look at this mess. I want you to clean this up, and then I want to speak with whoever’s in charge here.”

The two other men nod, clearly not only used to their friend’s behaviour, but actively encouraging it. “Get to it, sweetheart,” one of them demands, making Sadie bite the inside of her cheek, “before all of our food goes cold.”

“Certainly, sirs,” Sadie scrapes the ruined burger off the table, waving over one of the busboys, “I’ll take care of this right away.”

Despite her words, after putting in the order for the new, onion-free burger, Sadie leans against the wall in the kitchen for a moment, breathing out heavily as she tries to compose herself. The line cook shoots her a sympathetic look, and Sadie smiles back shakily, grateful for the silent support.

Her boss’ office is one floor up, and Sadie isn’t too proud to sneak behind the bar, and make her way to the stairwell where she hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone from her table.

It’s quiet, once the door closes behind her, the voices of the guests and the sounds of the restaurant muffled, and Sadie swallows hard as she starts up the stairs. She’s seen her boss a grand total of thirty seconds so far, when he’d breezed in earlier, with a small child in each arm, a phone clutched between his shoulder and ear, and a frown on his face, while her co-workers had been showing her the ropes.

Mr Hargrove had been supposed to be the one to interview her, last week, but instead, Sadie’d been greeted by his business partner. He’d shaken her hand, smiling brightly, and introduced himself as, “Steven Harrington, but please, call me Steve, everyone does,” before explaining, all sheepishly, that Mr Hargrove was usually the one talking to the new hires, but that he’d unfortunately been called away on short notice.

He’d offered Sadie coffee, and had gotten her a glass of water instead when she’d declined, before dropping down in the swivel chair on the opposite side of the desk, picking up Sadie’s resume with a hum. “I’ll be honest, here, I don’t usually deal with this side of the business,” he’d said, chuckling a little to himself, “but if Billy’s invited you here for an in-person interview, chances are high he’s already decided to hire you. He can be picky.”

It had been said with a sigh, half annoyed and half fond. “So,” Steve had put the resume down again, and shrugged at Sadie, “if you’re still interested, and if the hours and pay you’ve talked about over the phone work for you, I don’t see a reason why you can’t start next Friday.”

Sadie had blinked at him, stunned, and then scrambled to sign the contract. Flexible hours, two free meals per shift, decent insurance, and paying slightly above minimum wage? It had been everything a struggling student like her could hope for, and then some.

Now, faced with the prospect of having to tell her boss that she’s screwing up on her very first shift, Sadie wishes she was anywhere but here. Still, she steels herself, takes a deep breath, and knocks on Mr Hargrove’s office door.

A moment later, a gruff voice calls back, “Come in.”

Mr Hargrove is sat behind his desk, one eyebrow raised, and Sadie hesitates, standing awkwardly on the threshold. The kids—definitely Mr Hargrove’s, going by their wild, curly hair—are playing on a blanket in front of the small couch, where Steve is sitting with a laptop open on his lap.

He smiles and waves at Sadie, which gives her the confidence to clear her throat, and say, “One of the guests would like to talk to you, Mr Hargrove.”

When Mr Hargrove only raises his eyebrow further, she adds, “He ordered a burger with onions, but says he doesn’t like onions. I offered him a new burger with a free side dish, but, well.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Mr Hargrove mutters, which earns him a scolding look from Steve, followed by a stern, “Language, Billy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mr Hargrove says, with a small roll of his eyes. He gets up from behind his desk, gesturing for Sadie to lead the way. “C’mon, let’s go deal with this shit.”

He’s obviously not happy about the interruption, but Sadie’s glad to notice that his irritation seems to be aimed at the picky guest, not her. The cursing also helps, strangely enough, has her bite back a giggle as they walk back down to the main floor.

Mr Hargrove looks intimidating, at first glance, what with all the tattoos, the denim, and the heavy jewellery. Like those bikers always parked in front of the shady bar a block down from her shitty, shoebox-sized apartment. Only, like, prettier.

Sadie ducks her head a little, blushing faintly. Mr Hargrove has to be in his thirties, is almost old enough to be her dad, and Sadie isn’t even interested in men like that, but she does have eyes. The blond curls, piled into a messy bun on top of his head, the dimples, the striking, bright blue eyes; Mr Hargrove is definitely good-looking.

Frannie would have a field day if she knew Sadie was getting flustered by her old, cranky new boss. Sadie silently vows to never tell her girlfriend a single word about it, ever.

“It’s the booth in the back,” she says, once they reach the main room of the restaurant again, pointing in the general direction, “by the big window—”

Mr Hargrove freezes mid-step when he spots the three men, but only for a second. Then he sneers, teeth bared, “Hell no.”

He stalks over to the booth, fast enough that Sadie has to hurry in order to keep up, and slaps the fork right out of one of the men’s hand with a snarled, “Get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

The men at the table—and a few people within earshot—fall silent in shock, all gaping at Mr Hargrove. Then, the now forkless man pushes to his feet, and right into Mr Hargrove’s space. “William—”

Mr Hargrove doesn’t back down, though, and he has several inches on the other man. “Get out. Right now, all of you. You’re not welcome here.”

The other man’s face twists in outrage. “How dare you speak to me like this? You can’t throw us out, we’re paying customers!”

“Oh, trust me,” Mr Hargrove’s smile is, Sadie thinks, pretty damn terrifying, “I can. And I will.”

“On what grounds?” the other man scoffs, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, let’s see. For harassing my staff,” Mr Hargrove begins, and holds up his hand, counting on his fingers, “or, maybe, the years of emotional abuse? For regularly beating the shit outta me for close to a decade? Or for just generally being a terrible fucking human being, and an even worse father?”

The restaurant is so quiet, after that, Sadie’s almost afraid to breathe.

“Take your pick,” Mr Hargrove finishes, and takes a step back with a sweeping motion towards the door. “But get the fuck out, Neil. Or we will call the police.”

“Honestly, I’d love to see that,” comes Steve’s voice from by the bar. He’s holding the phone, wiggling the receiver when everyone turns to look at him. “Your choice.”

“You—” Mr Hargrove’s father starts, but is wisely interrupted by one of his friends standing up as well, and putting a hand on his elbow with a disgusted, “Leave it be, Neil. The little faggot’s not worth the trouble.”

There are several gasps from the other customers, but Mr Hargrove seems unfazed. Almost amused, actually. “At least my faggot ass can keep a family together. Ginny was, wait, let me think? Wive number five? How’s the divorce going, by the way?”

“Okay, that’s enough!”

If Sadie’d thought Mr Hargrove looked scary, it’s nothing compared to an angry Steven Harrington, apparently.

“You’ve got one minute to get your shit, and get the hell out. Everyone else,” and now he’s all charm again, looking around the restaurant at the shamelessly watching customers, “free pie, for having had to witness this little display of homophobic bullshittery.”

Mr Hargrove takes it upon himself to escort the men out of the restaurant, while Steve goes around apologising for what’s happened. Sadie shakes herself out of her stupor, and follows Steve in order to jot down everyone who’s interested in the free pie.

Before she can head back to the kitchen, though, Steve stops her and asks, quiet enough that only she catches it, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“That was,” Sadie breathes out, then trails off with a helpless shake of her head.

“Not a great first impression on our part?” Steve chuckles, wry smile on his lips. “Why don’t you take a break? Get a slice of pie, too? We got it handled out here.”

Sadie accepts the offer gratefully.

And the pie is delicious.

“Billy’s a fuckin’ master with anything even vaguely dessert related, man,” the line cook tells her, when she moans around her first forkfull. At her hum of surprise, he laughs, and adds, “Yeah, he still does most of the bakin’, even though he’s the boss man nowadays. Ask him for his lava cake recipe, it’s fuckin’ sick.”

The rest of the day is, thankfully, much less stressful.

Sadie gets to leave on time, and slips out the back door with a cheerful, “Goodbye!” thrown over her shoulder, only to stumble to a stop when she nearly bumps right into Mr Hargrove. And Steve. Because they’re standing very close, with Steve’s arm around Mr Hargrove’s shoulders, and his chin resting on top of Mr Hargrove’s head.

Mr Hargrove blinks one eye open at her, but doesn’t move out of the hug. “You good? Sorry ‘bout, you know. All that shit earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Sadie stutters, feeling herself blush again, “don’t worry, all good. Thanks.”

“Have a nice night,” Steve says, with another one of those sincere smiles. “See you tomorrow.”

Sadie nods. “Tomorrow. Goodnight!”

She carefully steps around the kids, who are racing each other through the alley, shrieking with excitement. She’s almost by the bike rack when there’s a crash, followed by a warbling cry, and a distinctly toddlery voice going, “Shit!”

“Billy, I swear—”

“C’mon, Stevie, it’s not my fault they—”

Sadie rides off, not bothering to hide her laughter.

(When she comes in the next day, Mr Hargrove is waiting for her. He apologises, again, and introduces himself properly.

“Billy, please,” he insists, grimacing a little. “Mr Hargrove is my father, and, well. You saw that whole shitshow yesterday.”

Then he shows her how to use the coffee machine without getting burned, before Steve calls for him from upstairs. He’s almost through the door when he turns back around, eyes flickering down to the collar of her shirt with a small but genuine smile.

Sadie watches him go, ghosting her fingers over the small rainbow pin Frannie had proudly stuck on her shirt earlier that morning.

She’s pretty sure she’s going to like this job after all.)

[archivedatl]

Old Blogs

Howdy. I’ve noticed some concern over the loss of my old blogs here n’ there so I decided to post all of them in one large, comprehensive blog-a-verse. Hope this brings a smile to a few faces. Our Street Corners Keep Secrets This is me asking for a brick to be thrown through my window,
a message attached that reads, "Why can’t you just wake up?"
I am not a star,
don’t look up to me in hopes of finding something more.
That which is out of reach does not promise anyone a goddamn thing.
Hope arises in possibility,
but possiblity is fragmented and selfish,
so don’t think for a second that I am safe ground to walk on.
I will sink beneath the feet of a thousand travelling companions,
and make ruin of any city’s foundations,
because concrete and steel can never tell a soul how it feels.
Our street corners keep secrets, and our road signs only suggest,
never deciding for us,
never knowing if the destination to which they lead,
is where we truely belong.
Life’s greatest tragedy is not that it will some day end,
but that most of us just live to follow directions,
and many times we end up totally lost. I am a landmine. Sometimes I break down so hard you can hear it, and when I can stand to come near it with means to repair, the chances of walking out unscathed are slim to none.
I know because I’m one; a victim of second-hand breakdowns and bad impressions, made under intoxicated conditions with poorly lit expressions. And I regret not going back, I regret not missing flights, I regret not asking for more and taking chances that I can only hope will not be forgotten. My fingers are crossed.

I-O-U.

Now my telephone’s dead and I can’t stand to hold out like this, but I’m constantly checking myself so as not to be a burden. Anything too heavy eventually gets dropped, no matter the cost. Let me be light as a feather, but valued enough so as to remain in a back pocket, until those jeans need washing and I find my place on a bedside table, to be read aloud on nights when memories and prying needs return to haunt the foundations of this room.

Pick me up,
Read me every now and then,
I won’t disappoint.
*I am* witty and engaging so bless me with attention, because I’m *dying* for attention *without* any means of telling *you*. I’ll talk the talk, you take care of the rest. What up thugs?

I’m alive and well, realizing how eternally grateful I am for everything going on in my life day by day... Its a lot like learning to walk - at least, that’s how I’d like to think of it. We’ve all been there, so I won’t waste your time painting a pretty picture of how it all goes down...
I want to talk about other things...
First and foremost, I’ve come to understand that as of late there have been a lot of people finding this little piece of my life tucked away on the web; moreso than usual, and for that reason, I’d like to extend my proverbial hand to anyone and everyone who may have something - anything to say to me. Thank you for taking an interest in who I am and what I’m attempting to do with my life. I am opening myself up, as much as possible, to anyone who may be interested. All I ask is that whoever you may be, wherever you may be, understand that I am only human - two hands, ten fingers, and a life... I’ve received a few messages from people, upset that I haven’t been able to respond to their previous comments or private messages, and who now probably think less of me for it. I hope this isn’t the case, but its bound to happen. What I’m saying is that I don’t live my life on the internet... I’m sorry if there’s a message I never got around to responding to... I’m just not that good at keeping up with reality, let alone a virtual one. I will, however, try harder from now on... And understand that even if I don’t respond, I probably have read your message. I don’t just clear my inbox and move on. Thats plain rude. :)

To all my good friends,
the ones I should talk to more often,
the ones I left back home,
the ones I will never stop loving,
thank you for still hugging me when I come home...
I know I don’t always show it,
but I’m forever indebted to you all for everything you’ve ever done for me...

That brings me to my second point.
The closest friends you’ll ever have are the ones you’d take a bullet for,
but they’re the ones you constantly feel you could put a bullet in as well. ;)

Think about that one.

That’s it for now. I can’t believe I’m up at 5:14am. Touring has made me an insomniac, but I feel fucking great.

Have a good one y’all,

Me Lawyers and Liars I am a liar.
I am self absorbed.
I am in this for me.
I am seeking recognition.
I am not concerned with politics.
I am attempting to rise to the top.
I am never going to forget my intentions.
I am allowed to worry about my own life above the lives of others.

-------AFTER ALL---------

I am human. Part Deux: Colors, Sounds and Feather-Downs 
Current mood: happy I had a long, goofy conversation several weeks ago with an interesting girl who I haven’t seen since, in a diner I have yet to revisit, but it stirred up some thoughts that I found pretty interesting. Maybe I’m just nuts. Anyhow, the discussion began on a simple basis; I inquired as to what her favorite color might be. She said she didn’t know. I replied, "How can you not know? Its a simple question." -- She paused, looking sort of surprised, as if someone had never pressed her for an answer before, and then replied, "Well... It changes... Today its yellow."

I didn’t know what to say...
I didn’t understand.

How can your favorite color just change?
What happened to yesterday’s favorite color?
If, on a whim, something of such esteem and value can be replaced with another, then on what grounds was it ever of any more value to begin with?
When I was little, my favorite color was green. It stayed that way, no matter what I said to be trendy at the time (IE. 8th grade was my "black is such a raw and expressive pigment" phase, but everyone goes through that shit.) As of late, I’ve become more partial to blue - Light blue in particular, but that’s not that important. My point is that something happened that caused me to send green packing, and to fall absolutely head-over-heels for blue.
(Stay with me on this...)
Now, such a dramatic change in attraction doesn’t just happen - I mean shit, I know we’re only talking about colors here, but this kind of switch-a-roo has only happened ONCE in my entire life. Green ---> Blue. Just like that. Must mean somthing, right?
Pablo Picasso went through a "blue period", at which time he was broke and mourning the loss of a dear friend. There’s a similarity there somewhere.
Please don’t get me wrong, I am by no means depressed, nor do I have any reason to be, but perhaps color - every, individual hue, represents to each of us a state of being, and in turn, helps us to deal with whatever it is we may be going through. I’m not talking mood-ring shit here. What I mean is that there are things - simple things - that without our knowing, mean the world to us and when they change, they change for our own good, because whether we like it or not, we are looking out for ourselves. We do it unconsciously - But we do it. We do it to stay happy and to stay alive... And above all else, that’s what matters.
On this note, I’d like to attempt to make my point - Don’t throw yourself out on another’s whim. People change, as do intentions and as a result, consequences. Live for yourself - love those around you, but realize that they’ve got their own agendas. People will screw you - You will screw people... Green ---> Blue. Get it? I’m not sure I do... Always consider that your life will venture in new directions, but be aware that other’s will do the same, and in accordance, understand that to be happy, people must exist in their own light, cast in and of themselves, not by the light of their peers. Conflict will arise because of this. Conflict is to be expected; conflict is a part of life. Find ways to work through conflict, even if it means picking a new favorite color...


I hope this makes a little sense.


I’m tired and rambling, and perhaps just a misguided fool, but I think there’s something in this - something that I am learning and accepting as my fingers punch these keys to an inviting, hypnotic rhythm. I feel like they’re leading me somewhere, and I’ve decided to follow.

____I’m going to bed. Take from this what you will.

Love,

Alexander William Gaskarth

*I feel fine* The first of many, I hope. 
Current mood: happy So I’ve decided to spill it; the beans, the juice, my guts... Whatever you want to call it, consider it spilled. Up to this point, I feel like I’ve done an excellent job of keeping just about everything true about myself, to myself... and for good reason - what people don’t know, people can’t use against you. I guess that’s my first confession. I fucking despise the way people operate. The way people go out of their way to find things out, only to throw them senselessly (BLINDLY) into conversation later. I don’t know if its intentional, (I guess that sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t,) but frankly, it gets to me. Its the same kind of prying aggravation I feel when someone starts moving shit around in my car, or on my computer table. Stop putting hills in my rugs! Please. Call me OCD but if I put something somewhere, chances are, I wanted it there and it should remain that way. Its the same for anyone else. Let one’s own business remain that way. Anyway. I’ve fallen into a depression lately - not emotionally per say, but I feel like my ability to open up to people has peaked over the past two years. I used to be so ready to say anything, without caring how it affected me, but recently I’ve become so protective of myself, not because I’m afraid of getting hurt by others, but because I might make myself look bad. It’s disgusting. I never used to be so self-absorbed. Its like in every situation, I’m wearing a mask... Not just one mask, in fact, but many masks; Masks to hide masks between people - to hide certain sides of myself from those who disapprove where others don’t. I try so hard to win the approval of everyone. Why? Fucked if I know. I just love being the center of attention I guess. And all this time I thought myself to be humble. No sir. But then, who really is humble? Everyone wants to be loved, right? So am I wrong in looking out for my own well being? Who knows? It makes me sick to my stomach, regardless. I’ve unknowingly stumbled across so many insecurities lately that I feel like a different person at times. It’s like I’ve been born all over again, to a world where I have to carry myself differently. I’m still opinionated, I’m still eagerly in search of answers, but my motives have changed. I do it for myself now; for the praise and admiration I earn as a result of my actions, not for the simple pleasure found in just "doing it". Maybe its all just part of growing up, as they say. Maturing... You know? But does it continue to change? Will I stop acting like such an asshole? Who knows. It worries me. I don’t want to be like this, but its who I’ve become... What’s worse is that I don’t know who or what to blame for the transformation. That would be too easy, right? I digress. I’ve got a lot of things on my plate. My dreams are coming true right before my very eyes - I have a band - We’re going somewhere - This time next year I hope I’m far, far away from this place. I want to see Japan. I’ve wanted to see Japan for a while now; call it a calling. Haha. I don’t know what I want when I get there - I don’t even like the hustle of big cities for too long. Gives me a headache. But there’s something about it. I’ll see it soon enough. The repetition of every day life kills. It ruins the flow of my creative juices. No joke. On days that I sleep in, I go to bed feeling exhausted, and yet, I never sleep on the weekends, when I should want rest. I don’t. It would be a waste of freedom. Why spend time on parole in seclusion, you know? I’m only tired on weekdays - only when I know I have to drag myself out of my fucking room to take a shower and go to school, and then to work. Maybe I’m not tired. Maybe it’s just a natural defense against running myself into the ground with routine. I feel pale, and sick, and run down... For no reason. I eat right. I see the light of day. I breathe fresh air all the time. I love the outdoors. Shit. I love my life. But between Monday and Thursday I feel so transient... My head isn’t in the clouds - My feet aren’t on the ground. Where am I? I don’t know, but frankly, it sucks. I have some good friends. We get hammered sometimes and forget about everything. The occasional dramatic scene is worth it. People naturally don’t get along with one another. It’s all a matter of how tolerant people are. I have some tolerant friends. In turn, I think I put up with my share of bullshit. It’s like a cycle of tough loving. But it works. It keeps me sane. In the end I think we really do love each other. Awww. I also like to kiss people. It gets me into trouble sometimes. Whatever. Certain individuals need to stop looking for love in the wrong places. --I can’t talk. --I’ve found love in the worst places. --Its not an easy thing to deal with. --Doesn’t change the way I feel about them. --Its ok. --As long as I’m happy. There I go being selfish again. ___I’m done confessing for now. Take from this what you will. Love, Alexander William Gaskarth *I feel better.*

[missmonsters2]

The Color of You || Part IX

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: It was another mission Natasha was assigned to. Nothing she hasn’t done before. Same mission, different people. Sent undercover to investigate William Cain, suspect to funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry. Under the disguise of Natanya Rovinski, Natasha is ready for another routine mission. Until she met you, William’s fiancé.

Warnings: There are dark elements to this series. Also, smut later on.

NOTE: Haha...yes I have made it back from death. Just one more chapter and this series will be done. Very sads. Also next chapter will have smut. Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this series, any natasha stories I do, Wanda stories, or everything.

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII 

PART IX of X

Count: 2873

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Your heart is palpitating with the wind whipping around you as Steve revs his motorcycle, going 90 miles per hour. 

You try to hold onto Steve tighter, feeling like if you don’t, you’ll end up flying right off the backseat. It’s supposed to distract you. The wind, the noise, the cold, even the pain is supposed to take your mind away from the fact that if you’re too late, then Natasha might die.

Your mind tries to rationalize with you because she’s Black Widow, and she’ll have different things up her sleeves. 

But what could she do?

So you focused on Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. You know that the Iron Man suit should be airtight. The poison can’t get through, but in your vision, you saw on the screen that he had his mask off as he worked on the computers. 

Even if you can get Steve to tell Tony to keep his mask on, what about Bruce?

Bruce would die if he inhaled any of that poison.

You’re formulating plans quickly inside your head. Possibility after possibility, wishing that you knew how to control your gift more because, at this point, this was just hoping for the best outcome.

“Hey, Steve?” You shout loudly through your helmet, licking your lips when Steve turns his head around briefly to show you he heard you.

“Can you get in touch with Natasha?” 

Steve releases one hand off the handle as he touches his earpiece. He calls her name a couple times, but then he puts his hand back on the handle.

“I’m not getting anything on her end. She might be out of range, or there might be interference where she is. We’ll know if she’s back,” He yells.

You sigh, hoping this plan works.

Steve slows, coming to a rough stop when you’re in front of your estate again.

Taking off your helmet, Steve helps you off, and you look at him.

“Can Tony hack into camera systems?” You ask, and Steve snorts.

“That would be like taking candy from a baby for him,” Steve tells you and you nod.

“Alright...can you ask him to do this?”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You had Steve park in the same blind spot area you smuggled Nat into that time you brought her home. 

Waiting until the camera turned, you pulled Steve past, opening the kitchen door.

You immediately start rummaging through the drawers.

"What are you looking for?” Steve asks, and you’re about to answer him before he suddenly bolts into you, pushing you to the ground, a loud gunshot ringing in your ears.

Pain rushes through your arms and legs as you haven’t quite healed yet. You groaned quietly and forced your head up to see what happened.

Steve jumps up, his shield forward to protect you, and the two of you see Evelyn standing there with a gun raised.

“Evelyn,” you breath, and she looks at you, eyes darting to Steve for just a moment.

“You’re a fool to return, miss,” Evelyn grouses, and you raise your brow at her.

“Let me guess, capture? Or kill on sight?” You ask, but Evelyn doesn’t react to it. It already tells you what you need to know because if you’re not useful to him, then there’s no use for you at all.

You nudge Steve at his back because you still need to get to the drawer. He slowly inches up, and you follow. Evelyn follows your movements, but she can’t do much with Steve protecting you. 

You grab what you need from the drawer, and Steve draws his eyes to you without moving his head.

“Go,” he tells you, “I’ll catch up.”

You move, hearing more gunshots fired at you, but they easily bounce off of Steve’s shield. You glance at him, gratefully briefly before running off. Evelyn tries to take off after you, but Steve immediately blocks her way, forcing her back.

Evelyn steels herself with Steve doing that same.

“Captain America, huh. I’m a big fan.”

Steve grins.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You take off your shoes before running again, more relieved at the lack of sound your shoes were making. 

You open the door to the basement, fingers trembling slightly as you walk down. 

You haven’t been back down here since you were allowed up into the estates. There was no reason for you to go back down, but you needed to.

You needed to because Natasha might die if you didn’t.

Hand dragging along the bricked wall, you counted the bricks as walked until you reached 57.

Pressing the brick in, the door opened, and you looked into the room. You were early, it seemed. No one was in the room, but then you started to hear footsteps, and you quickly made your way in, running until you were behind a pillar, hiding as you slowed your breath.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha didn’t like the silence.

It was too quiet.

She had broken into William’s estate through a window, and when she jumped down, she realized she was in the basement. 

It was big, seemingly looked like a basement suite. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for at first, just checking every room until she was in the master bedroom of the basement. 

It would’ve been unnoticeable to anyone, but the bed was just slightly crooked. Probably no more than 3 degrees needed to be straight. 

It was such a plain bed for a master bedroom, but Natasha pushed the bed back in an attempt to make it straight.

Then she heard it.

The floor creaked unnaturally ever so softly.

Natasha moved the bed, staring at the floor door. 

A heavy feeling settled over Natasha. 

Everything in her body told her that she shouldn’t open it because whatever she would find in there would make her sick.

But Natasha opened it anyways.

It was dark peering in, but with some of the light outside, she could make out a staircase to go down. 

Her hands drifted to the wall, dragging against it as she walked down. Her fingers brushed against a light switch when she reached the bottom. When she turned it on, she noticed there wasn’t much space. There was the staircase, and about 5 feet across from it only had another door. There was nothing else. 

Natasha slowly walked forward, staring at the door. When she opened it, it was completely dark, the light hardly making any difference in the room, so she needed to use her own flashlight.

And there was nothing in the room. 

No furniture.

No windows.

Just a concrete floor.

A giant hole in the middle. 

Natasha clenches her jaw because she can’t stop hearing your words in her head.

She walks forward bravely until she’s at the edge, pointing her light down. The sight inside makes Natasha stiff.

It’s deep. 

Roughly around 150 feet and too wide for anyone to try to climb back up.

She can see some food trays at the bottom, a small pillow, and a blanket.

And Natasha knows.

You were kept a prisoner here. 

All alone in the dark until you had a vision of her.

But even then, you were still alone in the dark, replaying the visions of her, praying, hoping, wishing for her until you were allowed out. 

Compromising your morals and ethics, enduring everything for Natasha to come.

It burned.

Natasha’s eyes drift to the side at the bottom, teeth clenching when she sees traces of dried blood.

She grips the gun in her hand a little tighter.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It’s happening. 

Faster than you can formulate any other plans in your head. 

“You think this is over?” William sneers at Natasha.

“Your plans being ruined and being captured usually means that. So, yes, I do think this is over.” Natasha tells him back, no emotion on her face.

“You know, there’s one thing my miserable father did teach me,” William says with a smirk, pulling out a device and in one hand and a gun in another.

“Take a look at this screen,” William tells her, and she can see it’s Bruce and Tony who’ve made it into his control room, working on canceling his program.

“This button in my hand will release a deadly poison into the air. They’ll die within minutes,” William smiles, and when Natasha makes a move to step forward, he puts his thumb on the button threateningly.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, “one move, and I’ll kill them.”

You want to yell at Natasha to call his bluff, that it’s fine, but you might be making it worse.

But then he points his gun at her, and you only have a snapshot second to make a decision of what to do. You try to peer around, but Natasha seems to be rooted in place as she’s not willing to risk Tony and Bruce’s life. 

“You should’ve never come here,” he tells her before pulling the trigger–

You jump out from behind the pillar, rushing towards William as you push his chair over, disorienting him as he falls over on his side. The bullet fires, but completely misses Natasha.

Shock and horror enter Natasha’s eyes as she sees you, but you’re too busy trying to wrestle the gun out of his hand. She can’t shoot with you in the way. Despite being knocked over, William manages to keep a tight grip on both the button. You did manage to get his gun, but he uses his elbow, knocking it to your face. The shock and pain make you drop the gun, but further away than any three of you can reach. William uses that moment to grab you, wrapping his arm around your neck as he staggers to stand up.

William groans angrily, his thumb touching his lip as he sees the blood from when you hit his face from trying to get his gun. 

The blood drains from Natasha’s face as it’s become the worst possible scenario for her with him holding you hostage. 

“You actually came back,” William looks at you and sneers, “how foolish.”

You have one hand on his arm to stop him from squeezing harder and one hand straight down, your sleeve covering your arm.

“How idiotic of you,” William berates you. “Let me guess, you saw this happening and just couldn’t help but run to save her.”

His face distorts into disgust. Natasha is watching like a hawk, her gun up and steady.

William looks at her and rolls his eyes.

“Put your gun down, or I will press this button and kill everyone in that room,” he threatens. 

Natasha falters, but you shake your head at her, warranting William to tighten his hold around your neck.

“DROP THE FUCKING GUN,” William screams at Natasha, but she looks at you, and you’re still shaking your head as much as you can. 

‘Trust me,’ you mouth at her as best you can.

So, Natasha doesn’t drop the gun, and William explosively glares at her as he pushes the button. 

Natasha whips her eyes to the screen, but when moments pass and nothing happens, she looks back at him. 

William scares at the screen, confused and angry as he presses the button over and over again, but nothing happens. You can feel his grip loosening.

“What the hell,” he looks at the button but then snaps his head to you.

“What did you do?” He seethes at you, and you merely smile, causing him to tighten his grip around your neck.

“It’s a feedback loop,” you say before you reveal your hand with a fruit knife in it that you hid in your sleeve before stabbing him in his thigh.

William yelps, immediately releasing you as you tumble away, and Natasha immediately uses the opportunity to shoot William in the chest. 

There’s a moment of silence in the room as the bullet pierces him. He looks around at his chest, red seeping through his clothes as he falls onto his knees before his back.

He wasn’t dead, maybe Natasha shot him inches from where it would’ve been an instant death.

But he was certainly dying.

You crawl over to him, looking over his face as he took shaky breaths. He looks up at you.

“It’s over,” you whisper to him. It doesn’t really seem to register to him as he lifts his hand up, trying to touch your face. 

He doesn’t have the strength to make it.

“I...loved you...for...real, you know,” He breathes out shakily, slowly turning paler. 

Tears well up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“No...” You tell him, “you don’t know how to love anything without ruining it.”

William merely stares up at you, mouth open as his trembles before the life fades from his eyes, and he lets out his last breath.

It’s finally over, you think, trying to get up but stumble right into Natasha’s arms as she rushes towards you.

Natasha pats you all over, trying to assess your injuries, but you hold her hand to stop her.

“I’m okay,” you tell her. 

Natasha’s lips tremble, but she doesn’t cry.

“You’re so reckless!” She chokes at you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“But you’re alive...we’re both alive...” You tell her with a weak smirk, and Natasha rolls her eyes before leaning in to kiss you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Tony has the Quinjet ready by the time you come outside with Natasha supporting you with her arm around your waist.

You stand before everyone and can’t help but laugh that everyone’s at least supporting one bruise on their face.

“Ah, my little genius has made it out,” Tony says as he grins at you.

“Your genius?” Natasha scoffs.

“Uh, yes, Nat. Otherwise, both me and puny banner would’ve-” Tony uses his hand to swipe around his neck, gesturing death as he makes a noise to accompany it.

Natasha scrunches her brows together as she recalled what happened.

“What did you do?” Natasha asks as she turns to you.

You grin softly.

“Can Tony hack into camera systems?” You ask, and Steve snorts.

“That would be like taking candy from a baby for him,” Steve tells you.

“Alright...can you ask him to do this? Tell Tony to hack into the camera systems where he is discreetly. He needs to find the camera, which will be somewhere on the wall, and it can move. Ask him to make a feedback loop about a minute long of him and Bruce working to disengage the biotech. Make sure you tell him the feedback has to have it that his helmet his off.”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded, putting his finger to his earpiece before speaking quietly.

“Okay, he’s asking why,” Steve turns to you.

“William is watching them, and he’s going to use the two of them as leverage when Natasha confronts him. The sprinklers in the room are filled with poisonous gas. If they inhale it, they’ll die. After the feedback loop is created, then Tony can keep his Iron Man helmet on if it has a gas filter, but Bruce can’t be in there in case.”

“Did you copy that?” Steve asks into his earpiece.

Steve nods to you, and you sigh.

Natasha merely shakes her head at you, and you know later on you’re going to get a lecture about danger again, but you don’t even care because she’s safe.

She leads you onto the Quinjet, letting you lay on her lap as she brushes your hair delicately during the flight. 

“What now?” Steve asks as he sits across from the two of you. 

Natasha merely shrugs. “I don’t know. A part of me wants to hide her away, where no one can find her. Not SHIELD, not anyone who knows about her gift and will want to use it.”

“You think SHIELD will want that?”

Natasha shrugs again. “She can see the future, Steve. Do you know how incredibly useful that gift is? Without her, this mission would’ve been a bust. This mission might’ve not even existed without her. Sure, she can’t control it now, but maybe with research and practice, she can. But I don’t want to put her through that as if she’s some...some lab rat.”

Natasha looks down at your sleeping face, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. 

“I just want her to be happy. She deserves to be happy.”

“We’ll find a way,” Steve tells Natasha reassuringly, but his teammate merely half-smiles at him.

The rest of the ride home is quiet as everyone is trying to rest. When the Quinjet lands in SHIELD’s headquarters, Natasha briefly thinks about grabbing you and running off before anyone can see you, but when she feels your hand brush against hers as you wake up, she can only smile as you press a kiss to the corner of her lips. 

The door opens to the ground as Natasha helps you up to walk out. She already sees Fury and Maria standing there to greet everyone. 

They look at you, and Natasha feels tense, but you pat her arm to reassure her.

Maria walks up to you, and before anything can happen, you’re in handcuffs.

Shock appears on the Avenger’s faces as they look at the handcuffs on your wrist.

“What the hell,” Natasha seethes.

PART X

[hockeybabestars]

New Year Same Us - Auston Matthews - Nine

a/n: guys we’re so close to the end! only one more chapter after this! I hope you enjoy part nine!

December 31, 2018 - January 1, 2019

Mitch and Stephs New Years party was pretty amazing. They had decorated with shiny banners and confetti and there were hats and beads and glasses to wear to ring in the new year. Everyone was having a good time mingling or dancing or doing their own things. Music softly played through the living room speakers with ease and the NYC countdown was playing on the T.V. Everyone was dressed up and looking their best. And Aus was no different. 

I spotted him across the room chatting with Freddie. He wore a simple black suit with a white button up underneath, some of the buttons undone showing his toned chest. He looked hot. I thought he would go for something more bold but he insisted on matching me. I thought it was cute. My silver cocktail dress would for sure clash with the other suit he had in mind, so we compromised. His eyes met mine and I sucked in a slight breath. The twinkle of his gaze really doing it for me as he grinned. I smiled back shaking my head. 

He had seemed different since John and Aryne’s wedding. The night that almost was, as I had been referring to it. I had wanted to kiss him badly, but it felt like the timing of it all was horrible. I had decided that night that I was going to try to get over him. I was tired of hearing that we were perfect together and knowing an end for us was never in sight. And then he goes and pulls me back in with his lingering touch and lips ever so slightly ghosting over mine. 

An almost. A should’ve been.

Since then he’s made subtle changes. In the kitchen he would put a hand on my lower back as he brushed past me to grab something from the fridge. He’d been sneaking into my room late at night, just to talk or snuggle. And every time we go out he keeps an arm slung around my waist and eyes down every guy in the vicinity. It’s not fair, honestly. That he gets to stake a claim without the weight of officiality looming over his shoulders. It felt like he had decided to dance around whatever this was. And I was over it. My heart felt like it was being pulled in different directions. Option one was listening to my heart and diving head first into us, and the option two was telling me to listen to my head. And my head kept telling me that I would ruin us, some way, somehow, and I didn’t want that.

But for now, I would happily ignore all of that just to have a good time with my friends. I constantly needed a distraction from will-we-won’t-we with Auston, so I decided tonight that I would let him do his own thing and see where it took us. 

It felt like there were so many things going on, but maybe a refill would do the trick. I found myself in the kitchen, looking through the fridge for something to make a mixed drink with. One drink was not doing me enough of a service tonight, but I wasn’t planning on having more than 2. Maybe 2 and a half at the most. 

I pulled out some champagne and orange juice when I heard a voice from behind the fridge door. “Aren’t mimosas a morning kinda drink?” Willy asked as he shut the fridge door. He leaned casually against the wall and watched me fix my concoction with a smirk on his face. I flipped him off, but smiled as he opened the fridge back up to let me put the drinks away.

“No William. Can’t a woman drink what she wants? It’s new years, you think you could let me live a little.” I grab my drink and swirl it around as I move to step out of the kitchen but he steps in front of me, not allowing me to pass. I flick my eyes up to glare at him but he just laughs and grabs my wrists swinging them a little in front of us. I steadied our hands but he still lightly held me there.

“You seem like you're already over the night and it’s only begun. Wanna play a game?” He smirked.

“I am not up for your shenanigans tonight William!!! I mean business. And I absolutely can not be drunk.” I took my wrists back, one of which had my drink, and took a long sip.

He glared at my drink, “Sure, ‘absolutely can not be drunk’ my ass. Why can’t you live a little tonight? It’ll be funnnnn. Besides it’s fucking New Years. You deserve to be plastered (Y/N).”

I glanced around the room and spotted Auston, he had moved on from Freddie to Steph, and I wondered what they were talking about, both wearing serious expressions. “Just trying to keep a clear head is all.” I mumbled. I was about done with all the feelings swirling around in my head and my heart, and I wasn’t sure I could keep them in if I got plastered. Especially with the way he had been acting lately. What a mess that would be. So for now I keep tabs on how much I’ve had to drink.

“(Y/N/N)” Willy grabs my attention again, having picked up on my worries and this time he’s a little more serious, giving me a knowing look, “don’t worry about anything. Just worry about you. You know how to have a good time. Don’t let what ifs plague you tonight. I promise you everything will workout.” I smiled and wrapped my arms around him.

“Thanks Will. That’s just what I needed to hear.” I mumbled into his chest.

He pulled me back his smile turning into a smirk like a switch had been flipped, “game?”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled all the same, “what game? Is it a drinking game? You’re such a fucking child.”

I felt a pair of arms snake around my waist and pull me in closer. His toned chest hit my back before he spoke, “yeah what game William. You fucking child.”

I laughed swatting his hands that only tightened around me as I looked up at him. The height difference was kinda perfect actually. He glanced down, giving me a wink as I gave up my struggles of escaping his grip. He rested his chin on my head as Will looked at us with a smirk.

“I'm the child here?” He playfully asked, “We’ve got options. Captain Dickhead? Truth or Dare? What Are The Odds? Seven Minutes in Heaven? Fear Pong? What do we want?!?” 

“Truth or Dare?” I deadpanned, “This is exactly why you aren’t in charge of this shit!” I laughed. 

“Hey you never know what can happen with the right people at the right time. It can be… fun?!” He chuckled and threw me a wink. I knew what he was doing. I wanted to kick that mischievous little smirk right off his pretty face. I could see right past his feigned innocence here.

“Are you buying this shit?” I turned in Auston’s embrace to look up at him, and he looked back down at me. 

He shrugged, “Captain Dickhead is always fun.”

“I don’t wanna be drunkkkk.” I grumbled.

“Whyyyy notttttt.” Auston teased but his eyes softened as he looked down at me, “you know if you wanted to I would take care of you. I haven’t had a drink yet.” 

I squeezed his arm in thanks, “I appreciate it, I’m just not in the mood tonight.”

“It’s New Years this is the best mood!” Willy exclaimed but dropped it when I glared at him.

“Can’t I just be soberish damn it! We already went over this!” I laughed. Auston shook his head at the two of us.

“Fine, What are the odds?” Willy crosses his arms exasperated. “That can be sober!”

“I hate you.” I laughed. “I don’t wanna play your games Willy. I can already tell you have some plan formulating that I don’t want to be apart of.” Willy’s calculated expression wore off as I smiled. I pried myself out of Auston’s grip as I went to pat Will on the shoulder. “Sorry for being a buzzkill buddy!” I turned and saw confusion on Auston’s face as I walked past him, grabbing my jacket from the rack, and cradling my drink out to the balcony. 

The cool air of the night settled in my lungs as I rested my arms out on the glass railing. The city lights roaring to life as the clock got closer and closer to midnight.

I knew what Will was doing. He and Kappy were probably scheming some way to force Auston and I into a situation that would turn out embarrassing for me or something. 

I didn’t want our first of anything to be forced. I wanted him to want me because he had feelings for me, not because we were drunk at some wedding, or Kap and Will made a stupid bet or meddled as per usual. I wanted him to want me, but not like that. 

I shoved my thoughts aside, taking an alarmingly large sip of my drink, more like a gulp, and stared out at the sky. This was bullshit. I should be inside having fun with my friends, not trying to clear my thoughts as I overthink like I always do. I toyed at the sleeve of my dress, thinking back to when we were kids, how easy things were when the pressure of liking someone didn’t exist. When we were just us. Before I even thought of us as an “us”.

I heard the door slide open and turned to see who it was. Steph stepped out onto the balcony with me, the metallic material of her red dress shining against the moonlight.

“Hey.” She says softly, coming to stand next to me. I look at her, my expression wavering as I almost let out a few tears in frustration. “Oh honey.” She pulls me into her grasp and I lean into her. She drags me over to the breakfast chairs and slyly pulls my jacket and drink from me to set them down on the table. I sit with a huff and just breath for a minute as Steph just holds my hands. I’m thankful that she gets me, and let me collect myself before listening to me. 

“Willy, god love him, he kinda irked me back there.” I say. She looks at me confused as I continue. “He was all like ‘ I get you, don’t worry about anything’ and then he was all ‘let’s play a game with the right people at the right time and see what happens’ like no.”

Steph just laughs and I can’t help but let my frown fall away as I laugh with her.

“(Y/N), don’t worry about Will. He just wants you guys to be together as much as the next guy so he meddles a little bit.”

“I won’t let him meddle.” I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.

She looks at me seriously, observing me before speaking, “is this why you don’t wanna be drunk tonight?”

I nod, “I just don’t want to ruin anything, and I know what will happen the minute I get out of control,” my hands fall to my lap as I play with my fingers, clasping and unclasping them to distract myself. I had meticulously avoided drinking the last few times we all went out together. I felt like I would be overkill if I let myself off my own leash. “I don’t want to ruin anything.” I mumble.

“(Y/N), babe,” she pauses, “why don’t you just tell him? You’ve been sitting with this on your chest for years now. And you’ve been dealing with it by yourself. Just let yourself breath.” she pats my hand in my lap.

“I can’t just come out and tell him I love him.” I suck in a breath. “I don’t think I could bear the rejection from him. Not from Aus. I care too much about him to lose him this way.” I stress. 

“What makes you think it would automatically be rejection? How do you not see it?” She smiles before getting up and pulling me with her. I arched a brow. “Take a moment, but then go back in there and have fun. You deserve it.” She gave me a quick squeeze and headed back inside as I found my way back to the railing. 

I took a breath and closed my eyes as I just focused on clearing my mind. It was peaceful out here. The city was different at night. It felt more alive.

I heard the balcony door slide open and click shut for the second time, as footsteps came to a heavy stop next to me. It was silent for a second, just the sound of the city in the background. The air was charged around us, like he had something to say but couldn’t quite say it and I held my breath. He rested his hands on the balcony next to me, letting out a sigh before he spoke, “Were you ever going to tell me how you felt?” 

I turned to look at him then, eyes wide in shock and the embarrassment I felt was surely showing on my face, “I uh-how did you-“. He moved closer then, still not touching me but closing the distance between us slowly, and it felt like I was suffocating in his presence. “You weren’t meant to hear that.” I breathed lowly, scared that if I spoke louder maybe I would break. The chill of the Toronto air had set in and I shrugged my leather jacket over my shoulders, wrapping it tighter around me and allowing my arms to subtly wrap around themselves. But Auston saw through me. He reached out and gently peeled my arms from around myself and brought me closer to him, his scent, his voice, his presence invading my personal space from every angle.

“But I did. I did hear you.” He was so quiet I almost didn’t hear the words escape past his lips. His forehead rested on mine and his lips were so, so close. All I had to do was push up on my tip toes and his mouth would finally be on mine.

“And?” I breathed in anticipation, eyes lidded and heart racing so fast it could beat out of my chest. When did this go from me being fearful of losing him to being wrapped up in him? His fingers traced my hand as one slowly curled around my wrist and the other reached out to my waist to draw me closer.

His eyes flickered down to mine and I could hear the countdown at 10 from the living room. And if he was so cliche as to-

He kissed me on 8. His lips slowly working on mine in long drawls. His grip on my waist tightened and the hand that was in mine slowly cupped my face. His hand feels so masculine against my cheekbones, the calluses coarse against the expanse of my soft skin but I leaned into it. I brought my hands up to his broad shoulders, pushing myself as close to him as humanly possible, feeling his taut muscles ripple against me. His body heat radiated off him and warmed me up in no time. His tongue was slow and calculated in my mouth. I could feel all the passion he felt in that moment and it caused me to whimper in response. Which in turn made him tighten his grip on me. He tasted sweet like dessert wine. I could hear the cheers of our friends as they rang in the new year but I just I smiled into him. I felt him smile back as I slowly pulled away and caught my breath. 

Somehow both of his hands found their way to my waist, keeping me flat against him. I clasped my hands around his neck and scrunch my nose as he leaned his forehead back to mine gently.  I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of him against me.“That was-“

“I’m in love with you.” He interrupted and I opened my eyes. “You wha-“

“I’ve been in love with you for way too long... I just didn’t realize it. And you’ve been right in front of me this whole time. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before or why it took me so long to admit, but,” the city lights reflected in his eyes making them glimmer as he looked down at me, sincerity gracing his face, “It seems like everyone else caught on before I did. I never want to lose you. My best friend. I always want to be that for you. But I can’t just settle for it either.” His smirk started to peak out at the corners of his mouth, as I felt myself start to smile a little at the normalcy of it. This. This felt normal. That stupid smirk too.

“I need you to be mine.” He says slowly, like he’s scared, that after all of that, that I would somehow say no. 

“All you had to do was ask.” I smile as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt a little more confident about my feelings now. 

“I love you, Auston Matthews. Nothing has ever changed that, and nothing ever will.” I place both hands on his cheeks and give him a lingering peck on the lips. His eyes flutter open, staring into mine fervently, and I start softly, “I’ve been in love with you since we were 16 and you dragged me out on the ice. You were so mad about the outcome after your game. But you didn’t say anything about it. You just laced me up after it was over and said you could think better when I was there. I never took that too lightly.” I grinned at the look of awe on his face as he sat down in the chair I was previously in and pulled me down with him. I faced him on his lap as he placed his lips over mine again, thumb lightly rubbing a circular path along my jaw. And as he pulled away I caught my breath.

“I’m glad I get to do that anytime I want now.” He smirked.

“Anytime you want?” I played.

“Anytime,” he pecked along my jaw and I instinctively closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips burning on my skin, “anywhere.” He kissed my lips again but I was the one who pulled back this time. 

“Happy New Year Aus.”

“It is now.” He grinned and I lightly swatted him, his laughter filling my ears, “that’s not going to change is it?” 

“Same old us, you still want your best friend right?” I smirked.

He smiled genuinely. The one that filled my heart to the brim, “Same us, (Y/N/N).”

-

[icannotseemyself]

Prompt

Prompt: Soulmate fic where Sherlock deletes his first name because he hates it so much. But then he meets John, and hopes that he’s the same John on his wrist, and gets upset when John’s wrist says William. And then the two of them are just being idiots, pining for each other, until Mycroft steps in once he realizes Sherlock deleted his first name.

DISCLAIMER: This is the first fanfic I’ve ever posted here on this site, especially of Johnlock. Also, this is inspired by @fangirllibrarian. I will also answer any questions I have about personal headcanons I’ve written in there in the comments.

From a young age, William Sherlock Scott Holmes has despised his name. Not the Sherlock part, or even Scott, but the William. What felt like half of the kids in his year (more like 7, but STILL) shared the name, and Sherlock wanted to be different. Not different like everyone else saw him different (the odd child with the smart mouth and flapping hands), but original. So at the age of 7, old enough to make decisions on his own, Mummy, he changes his name, and only goes by Sherlock Holmes. His parents were upset at first (we picked that name for a reason, honey), but Mycroft humors him, and that’s enough. Eventually, everyone calls him Sherlock, and he no longers holds onto that 7-letter name, throwing it away in one of his Mind Palace’s many trash compartments. Later, he’d refer to this as deleting, but until the age of 13, he’d called it binning the useless information.

As he gets older, he observes those around him, watching as the pressure for the damn names to match becomes more and more severe. He knows the name written on his wrist, in small, cramped handwriting. John. Of course, of the Johns he’s met over the years, none have been memorable, and none had the name Sherlock written on their wrist in his loopy handwriting. By the time he graduated secondary school and had started his degree in chemistry, he stopped looking and caring, more focused on everything else around him.

He started wearing long sleeves to cover his track marks, and by happy accident manages to ignore the name as well. John may as well be another stranger on the street.

People he knew when he got high got clean for their soulmates. Sherlock found that preposterous. When he did get clean, it was for himself. Shortly after, as per the deal, he began his work as consulting detective for New Scotland Yard.

And he was fine. He was Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. No John, but perhaps it was better that way. Who knew how this John would change him, for the better or for the worse. He banished the thought of the name from his mind, and focused on the Work.

Until the day he met John Watson. Even during their first meeting, Sherlock had felt a… spark, a connection, he didn’t know what to call it. All he knew was that his heart got a bit jumpy when John smiled at him, and a warm feeling burned his chest everytime John did something that amused him.

They never really talked about the soulmate thing. John deflected any possible hint at him being anything other than a rigid heterosexual, and Sherlock had shot him down, despite his heart telling him not to, that night at Angelo’s. Sometimes, when Sherlock’s alone, he kicks himself for what he said. “Married to his work.” What a stupid thing to say.

So John never asked, and Sherlock never told (though Sherlock himself hoped), and Sherlock never asked and John never told, until one day, Sherlock had just returned from a case alone (John had work) to find John passed out in his chair. It was obvious that John was waiting for him. A half-empty cup of cold tea sat next to the chair, and a book layed on the floor, where it had fallen out of John’s lap.

Sherlock smirked to himself, and after relieving himself of his coat, manage to lift John up without waking him and carry him to his own bedroom. As he tucked the older man in, John’s sweater sleeve rose up slightly, and Sherlock caught a glimpse of the name written. William. Not Sherlock.

Disappointed and depressed, Sherlock left the room quickly, not wanting a potentially waking John to see him upset. Now it was never an opportunity for him. John would probably be happy with this William. And Sherlock… Sherlock would move on. Not find another John, because Sherlock didn’t believe in another John. He just wanted his John.

The next morning, John awkwardly thanked Sherlock for moving him to the bed, and Sherlock said nothing.

Mycroft stopped by one afternoon, while John was at work, and Sherlock had no cases. The usual banter had no bite to it, Sherlock noted, and Mycroft was quick to agree.

“And the good doctor? How is he?” Mycroft asked.

“Fine,” Sherlock said, if a bit too quickly. Mycroft’s eyebrow rose.

“Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.”

“I’m aware, Mycroft.”

“And yet you still care about him. I understand, believe me, Sherlock I do. I believe you taken a peek at the name. I would have thought you’d been delighted.”

“Why would I be delighted in my flatmate’s soulmate? He hasn’t even found him.”

Mycroft rolls his eyes. “Dear lord, you truly are dense.”

“Am not,” Sherlock retorted. Mycroft just rolled his eyes again, tapped his umbrella on the ground, and turned to leave, before turning back.

“Oh, mummy’s insisted you come over for supper. Something about a family announcement.”

“Send me an email, Mycroft, I’m busy.”

“I think this is one you’ll want to be there for. Perhaps I’ll even bring John around. If Mrs. Hudson reminds you of our mother, then I can’t imagine what Mummy will do when she meets your… friend.”

And with that Mycroft left Sherlock to ponder this, formulating his plan in his mind.

Once John finished his shift, he quickly strutted out of the hospital. Today was the day. Maybe Sherlock wasn’t William, but William would certainly never be Sherlock, and John was tired of pining. He was going to confess his feelings and be done with it all.

Of course, this plan was ruined the second he saw the black town car parked at the kerb. John contemplated not getting in, before thinking of the famous Holmes wrath. Better now than later.

When he stepped in, he expected Anthea/Lenore/Calliope at his side. Instead, it was the elder Holmes brother himself.

“Can I help you?” John asked as the car began moving.

“Indeed,” Mycroft stated. “I’ve deduced that you’re finally going to tell Sherlock how you feel.”

John didn’t want to know how he’d deduced it. “Yes. What?”

Mycroft smiled slightly, before turning serious and monotone again. “And your soulmate? What of him?”

“My soulmate is none of your business.”

“My brother is always my business, and if you intend to break his heart, I don’t pretend that you don’t know what I can do to you.”

“I understand perfectly. Yes, I’m not running around with Sherlock on my wrist, but I’m running around with him on my mind, by my side, and in my heart. William will understand.”

Mycroft, seemingly satisfied with this proclamation, sat back in his seat.

“Where are we going?” John asked, noticing the buildings outside turn from the office and apartment buildings of central London, and instead become the large estates and homes of Belgravia.

“You’ll find out,” Mycroft said.

Eventually the car rolled to a stop in front of a large house with a large garden. Mycroft led John inside, where John was greeted by two people who shared resemblance to the man he loves. Sherlock and Mycroft’s parents.

Jean-Louise and Arthur Holmes doted on him practically from the minute they stepped foot in the house, and Mycroft took the opportunity to take a few secret pictures to incite Sherlock into joining the party. Indeed, a mere 10 minutes later, Sherlock waltzed in unceremoniously, coat slightly dripping, as it had started to rain, as it often does in London.

“Sherlock! I didn’t know you were coming!” John said, turning towards him.

“You… you didn’t?” Sherlock said, turning to Mycroft. Mycroft just shrugged.

Quickly, Mycroft managed to usher them all into the living room, and suggested Sherlock show John around.

“He doesn’t need to look around, we won’t be here long.”

“Sherlock, don’t be rude.”

“I wouldn’t mind a look around, actually,” John interrupted, looking at Sherlock. “If you’re willing.” Sherlock just rolled his eyes and walked away, obviously expecting John to follow him by the look back he conspicuously made before climbing the stairs.

As Mycroft entertained the parents on the lower level, Sherlock made quick work of showing John around. He did pause, however, when it came to his room.

“This is yours?”

It was messy, but messy in the Sherlockian way 221B was always messy. Pictures of various experiments, composers and scientists.

“It’s weird.”

“It isn’t,” John argued, turning towards him. “It’s wholy and entire you. Sherlock, there’s something I was planning on saying tonight before your brother showed up. I know I’ve always denied any and all attraction for the same sex, but I’ve found that you are the exception. Despite everything that I’ve said, I like you a lot, and would like to take this relationship from flat-mates, friends, colleagues, to something more. If you’re open to it.”

Sherlock’s heart was jumping, screaming for joy practically. “John, I-- I don’t know what to say. I mean, I like you too. A lot. Probably way too much. I’ll admit, there were days when I would beg for the John written on my wrist to be yours.”

“I sense a but.”

Sherlock’s heart sunk as he remembered seeing John’s wrist. “But, I saw yours. I’m sure you’ll be very happy with William, and I don’t want to be the reason you don’t find your soulmate.”

“Sherlock--”

“I’m sorry.”

Sherlock turned away and practically ran down the stairs towards the door. Unfortunately, Mycroft stopped him.

“There’s something you both should know,” Mycroft said, loud enough that John, who’d made it halfway down the stairs at some point, could hear. “At first I was confused myself, but then I realized. Sherlock, you’ve deleted something rather important about your past.”

“I don’t have time for games, Mycroft. What?”

“While my name is completely original, your birth name is not Sherlock. In fact, Sherlock is your middle name.”

“What?” Sherlock asked. John was also confused, probably more so.

“It’s obvious, Sherlock, really. You “deleted” as you so eloquently put, that your birth name, and the name that your soulmate would carry on his wrist, is William.”

A pause. Time seemed to freeze for a moment. Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

“Say that again.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, less enthusiastic about repeating himself than Sherlock usually is. “You were born William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

A smile broke out on Sherlock’s face, and before anyone could do anything, Sherlock turned and closed the gap, standing so close he could feel the heat of John. “I don’t take back anything I said up there. William would truly be lucky to have you.”

“Come here, William,” John said, throwing his arms around Sherlock’s neck and pulling him in. For first kisses, this was by far the best one.

[wlweyler]

yes, i’d do it again - blakefield oneshot

No-one asked Lance Corporal William Schofield if he would walk through Ecoust from no man's land and into the Le Croisilles wood for Thomas Blake. If someone had, he would say "yes, I’d do it again. And again, if he wanted me to.” Will already did it once. A second or third time would be easy compared to that first time. Struggling through the French countryside alone, not knowing the fate of his companion. Surely that stab wound was fixable, right?

William sat in the little field, holding tight to the body in his arms. That damn German pilot had stabbed Tom, his friend, his lover, in the stomach. Not too deep, though; it had been too easy to wrench away the knife, throw it into the grass. Will shot him twice to be sure he was dead. And now, here Tom was, bleeding, in Will’s arms. Tom, lovely as always, head in Will’s lap and hand under his, over that wound in his abdomen. "No, no," Will whispered, scared out of his mind. He held onto Tom, watched as blood seeped through cloth and onto their hands.

“I love you, y’know that?” Tom said, eyes on Will. Only Will, like always. His voice brought Will back, tore his gaze away from all that red.

“Yeah, ‘course I know, you tell me every chance you get. I love you too.” Will wiped the tears from his face, trying to appear strong. If only for Tom, he would make it out of this shit situation. They had come this far. It would be insulting for their mission to end here, in this field, a few feet away from that damned pilot. Then he heard footsteps. Will held the cloth pressed to the wound a bit tighter, trying to make that awful metallic stench making its way up to his nostrils go away.

“S’alright, Will, love.” Tom's voice was soft as he gazed up at him. His Will, beautiful and brave, willing to go any distance, anywhere. And for him, of all people. For his brother Joe, by extension. If he made it out of this hellhole, Tom was going to make sure Will knew just how much he loved him. The footsteps of earlier got louder; two soldiers approached. Will couldn’t tell what their ranks were, not that it mattered, but he was curious.

“You need some help, there, mate?” One says, “It’s alright.” His voice grew gentle; the other men stepped toward Will and Tom, offering their help.

“Please, help him,” Will says immediately, “Don’t worry about me. We have a mission to complete... Take him, please. The longer we stand here, the worse off he’ll be.” Will realized tears were making their way down his face as he spoke, scared and helpless. It would have felt unbecoming if Will gave a shit, but he didn’t. The other two soldiers nodded. Will looked at Tom in his arms, face slowly losing color.

“Listen, Tom, these nice gentlemen are going to help us out a bit, and they can’t do that if you’re on the ground, so up we get,” Tom’s gaze met Will’s, and he nodded. With help from Will and the two others, Tom stood, though he winced. He exchanged a glance with Will, who took his hand and squeezed it.

“Was it the plane? We saw smoke,” One of the other men asked, glancing at the ruined plane behind them. He didn't see the body of the pilot, thankfully. Will didn't want to have to talk about murder. Doing it had been hard enough.

“Yeah,” Will replies. It’s easier than the truth, that Tom had been stabbed trying to help the pilot. Easier than admitting it was Will’s fault, for turning his back, for putting his trust in the fucking enemy. The other soldiers walked Tom and Will to where the rest of their unit was, three caravans and a car, all full of men on their way to who knows where. When they reached the line of vehicles, an officer belonging to their unit approached. He asked Will where they were going.

“I’m headed to Ecoust, there’s a message I need to deliver as soon as possible. This one needs to get to the nearest aid post. Please.” Will tells the officer, trying not to let his voice break as he spoke and betray how horrible he felt. He should have shot the German bastard when he had the chance, but what if he had? It would mean Tom would be in even more danger, out in the thick of it with Will. What if the war wasn’t going on? What if he could marry Tom and they could live together happily, free from the troubles of the world, of this damn war that would surely tear them apart, mentally and physically? Will had turned over those questions many a sleepless night, but thinking too much gave him a headache or made him cry. Will shook his head, tried to clear his mind. It was futile, as per usual.

“We’ve got enough room for you. We’re going past, so we can take you part of the way. We’ll make sure your friend gets patched up, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, sir.” Relief washed over Will, filling him with a warm, hopeful feeling. Hope was a dangerous thing, but it felt good to hold on it, if only for a little while. The officer explained their predicament to a higher up, so Will got in the truck. As luck would have it, it appeared there was space for only one other man. Tom went to the nearest aid post to have his wound treated; Will saw the men who had helped them guiding him away. Will tried not to dwell on it, on the truth before him. He’d only known Tom a short while, but Will knew he was the man he wanted to be with for as long as destiny allowed. It hadn’t been easy, realizing how he felt and scrounging up the alone time to tell the bloke.

Along his way to the Devons, Will almost got shot by Germans, passed out, and encountered a French woman with a baby who wasn’t hers. The river he’d floated through had been beautiful; cherry blossoms floated alongside him. They reminded him of Thomas and his little tale of picking cherries with his brother in their mother's orchard in England. When he got back to his regiment (and he would get back, thank you very much), Tom would be there waiting for him, Will was sure of it. He delivered the message as planned. Will met Tom’s brother (just like him, a little older) and told him how he felt about his little brother. The feeling of sharing that kind of information with someone else was strange, at first, but Joseph just smiled. It was no surprise to him, of course; Mrs. Blake had mentioned Tom’s letters and his many mentions of a man called Will Schofield in her writings to her eldest son. Blake thanked Will for being by his brother’s side, making sure he didn’t become one of many numbers in a long list of war casualties. If he had, it might have broken Will beyond repair. As he stood, then, Will couldn't wait to see Tom again. They shook hands. Three days later, Will was back with the 8th, and his boy. His darling boy. It felt surreal to be back in the place he started; all that work only to have gone in a circle.

He found Tom rather quickly. Or Tom found him. Either way, the two reunited at last. And Will would be damned if he’d let the man he’d almost lost out of his sight again. Seeing his lover again after the worst seventy-two hours of his life, not knowing if Tom was alive or dead, had been an enormous relief. There was his Thomas, all flesh and blood and very much not dead.

"Missed you." Tom says softly as they hug. They stood by the same tree they'd been under when their lives got turned upside down. It feels so nice to hug him, Will thinks, feeling the warmth of his skin and weight of Tom's hands on his waist.

"I missed you, too," Will says, not holding onto his companion now, but still close to him, "Those three days without you were awful." Tom smiles at Will, that goofy little smile he would never get enough of.

"Three days felt more like three years."

The war was over two years later. By some miracle they made it out with only minor injuries here and there. Will was glad it was over; so glad he would never have to worry about whether he would make it through the day, live or die. He and Tom returned to England together. They found a flat above a little bookshop in south London and took over the store as well. They made sure it was near both Will’s sister Sarah (and her darling daughters) and Joseph and his wife. Will and Tom ran the bookshop together with love and care.

Each night, together they walked up the stairs to their little flat to their shared bed; Will often fell asleep in Tom’s arms. The nightmares persisted for years after. They found it hard to forget what they had seen in the trenches, like nearly all survivors of that same horrible war. It was even harder for Will to forget the feeling of holding Tom in his arms as he lay bleeding, near to dying. Tom was always there to wipe away his tears and assure him everything was alright, as Will was for him. It wasn’t just the nightmare that plagued either of them, but with Tom by his side, Will could get through it. The nightmares were arguably the hardest part, stuck in moments where he’d become helpless, unable to stop the war from tarnishing innocence and hurting those he loved most. Once that horrible war was over and the worst three years of his life behind him, Will could feel true peace again. As it turned out, peace involved a whole lot of Saturday mornings, together, on their couch that needed reupholstering. Or, lying in bed until noon, enjoying the company of a cherished lover.

[AO3]

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Burn the Ships, Chapter Seven

A/N: Sorry for the delay; holidays are rough for me, so I didn’t even start writing this chapter until New Year’s Eve. XP

As a disclaimer, I know pretty much nothing about how the foster system works, but I just go back to Danny’s very true words to Lou: “He always gets what he wants.” I have no doubt that would also be true here. :P

Also, shout out to SilverLightRaita and their fic Crashing and Saving on AO3 because that was 100% the fic that opened my eyes to the possibilities. So if you liked this and want more after this concludes next chapter, be sure to check it out!

. . . . .

Chapter Seven

“Hey, Danny. I don’t think we’re going to make it tonight after all.”

Alex couldn’t help but eavesdrop from where he lay on the sofa, guilt settling in his gut. Commander McGarrett had been upstairs for a while, but now it sounded like he was out in the kitchen. He didn’t remember hearing the man come down, so he must have dozed off; Alex wished he could actually fall asleep like he longed to do.

“Yeah, he’s asleep on the couch. Can’t really blame him for crashing; it’s been quite a day.”

He had no idea how long he’d been laying there, but it had been long enough, apparently. The numbing agent they’d given him while getting stitched up had worn off, leaving behind a dull, burning ache. It didn’t really hurt, per se, but it was uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t hard. I just told them he’s a witness in a case and offered to keep him in protective custody. It’s Christmas Eve -- you really think they’d argue? Someone’s gonna swing by on the twenty-sixth, but with any luck…”

Alex frowned. McGarrett had said he wasn’t going to abandon him, but now that Alex thought about it, he didn’t actually know what that was going to look like. The future had never seemed so uncertain.

“Yeah, we’ll try to swing by sometime tomorrow, but I can’t make any promises. I’d better let you go, though -- get back to the party. Wish everyone a merry Christmas for me.”

The guilt swirling in his gut rose in his throat at the realization that McGarrett was missing out because of him. Would he ever stop ruining people’s lives by simply existing?

The couch cushion dipped near his hip, and a moment later calloused but gentle fingers combed through his hair. He couldn’t help but lean into it a little.

“Hey, buddy. Food’s ready. Think you can wake up long enough to eat?”

Instead of answering, and without bothering to open his eyes, Alex murmured, “‘m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You’re missing the party because of me.”

A soft laugh. “Yeah, well… I know I said this morning that this is an annual thing, but the truth is, it’s really not. We plan it every year, but you’d be surprised how many times we’ve ended up working so it just didn’t happen. And that’s okay. Sometimes other things are more important -- like the teenager asleep on your couch after getting shot. You know, the usual.”

Alex finally cracked his eyes open to find that the only light in the room now was what streamed out of the kitchen. But even in the dim light, he could tell McGarrett was smiling. He huffed, sparing a grin of his own. “Yeah, I’m sure today was a totally normal day at the office.”

“You might be surprised. Crazy things happen a lot around here.” McGarrett stood up. “So anyway, I’ve got homemade pizza out in the kitchen. What do you say we get some before it gets cold and put on a movie or something?”

Alex nodded as he pushed himself up with his good arm; even keeping his weight on his right, he couldn’t help but wince at the unwelcome pressure on his left. “Okay.”

Commander McGarrett’s smile turned sympathetic. “And maybe get you something for your arm.”

Now that he was sitting up, the injury was throbbing a good bit more than it had been. “Yeah, that definitely sounds good, too. Thank you.”

For everything, he wanted to add, but judging by the look on the commander’s face, he already knew. . . .

Steve was pulled from his slumber by the incessant vibrating of his phone against a hard surface, and he couldn’t help but pray to every known deity that it wasn’t work-related. Eyes still closed, he fumbled around the top of the table beside him and finally picked up the device just as it went to voicemail.

Peeling back his eyelids, he discovered he was still in the living room, late morning sunlight streaming through the windows, with his feet kicked up on the coffee table and one teenaged boy curled up under his arm, face smushed into his hip bone.

That cannot be comfortable, he thought as he brought his phone to life.

One missed call -- Danny Williams

No doubt wondering if they were coming over since a glance at the time told Steve it was after nine already. Rather than risk waking Alex, he shot his partner a text, complete with photo evidence of why he was choosing not to call.

A moment later, Danny responded: That cannot be comfortable. Poor kid must really be out of it. Dinner’s at 1. We won’t wait unless you tell me otherwise then.

Steve tipped his head back against the couch, gaze wandering down to where Alex lay, still peacefully oblivious. The kid had made it all the way through It’s a Wonderful Life and the Santa Clause before losing the fight halfway through the Polar Express. Steve had been surprised he’d made it that long with how exhausted he’d seemed. He knew he’d have to wake Alex eventually, but a little longer wouldn’t hurt anything.

The peaceful silence only lasted a few minutes longer before Alex stirred, slowly blinking his eyes open, brow furrowed slightly like he wasn’t quite sure where he was yet.

“Morning, Alex. You slept a long time.”

He slowly rolled onto his back with a grunt and a yawn, his eyes sliding shut again.

Not completely awake then. That was fine, though; there really wasn’t any rush, so Steve would let him wake up when he was ready.

The silence settled comfortably around them again, and Steve thought maybe Alex had dozed off, but after a moment, Alex muttered into the quiet, “I haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

That was… concerning to say the least. But Alex had copped to having nightmares already; maybe that was all he meant. “You usually don’t sleep well, huh?”

Alex shrugged. “Bad insomnia mostly, and when I do sleep it’s always...disturbed, so.”

Steve winced; he knew exactly how that felt. For the longest time, he had pushed down everything that had happened with the Hess brothers, but when he couldn’t anymore, he’d been subjected to the same sleep patterns. It wasn’t fun.

Alex finally sat up, scrubbing the grit from his eyes. “I -- uhm, I overheard you on the phone with Detective Williams last night. I’m sorry for eavesdropping, but you should go. Don’t let me keep you here.”

He hadn’t been expecting that to be the second topic of conversation for the morning, but he asked the question he’d been planning to, anyway. “Do you feel up to going?”

Alex looked up, clearly startled. “What?”

“Do you feel up to going?” Steve repeated. “Because I’m not going without you.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” he sighed, “we’ve always kind of had this thing between us -- Danny and I. As you already know, Danny is divorced, which means he only gets his kids for Christmas every other year. Since I don’t have any family on the island, it kind of became this unspoken thing -- that no one should have to spend Christmas alone. And Danny -- he’s got Grace and Charlie this year, so… It’s entirely up to you if you want to go over there or not, but I’m not leaving you here alone, either.”

“I’d be intruding…”

“No, you wouldn’t. In fact, Grace would probably be thrilled to have someone else her own age around.”

Alex studied him intently for a moment before turning away with a nod. “Okay. Then, let’s go.”

“You’re sure?”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” Steve smiled. “I know they’ll be happy to see you.” . . .

Steve fell into bed that night tired but content. He honestly hadn’t been sure how Alex would do, but he needn’t have worried at all.

“Hey, Charlie! Merry Christmas, buddy!” Steve stooped over to pick up the boy, and Charlie instantly clung to him like a koala.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Steve! Who’s that?”

Steve turned to smile at the teen still standing awkwardly by the door. “That is Alex. He’s going to be spending Christmas with us. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Steve chuckled as Charlie squirmed back out of his arms and marched up to Alex, completely unafraid.

“Do you like Legos?”

Alex floundered for only a second before he replied, “Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Come on.” Charlie reached up and grabbed his hand. “Grace was building with me, but now she’s helping Danno, so you can help me instead.”

And that had been that. Steve had watched them for a moment, but almost as soon as they’d started, the tension had drained from Alex’s shoulders, and Steve had headed for the kitchen, confident they’d be okay by themselves for a bit.

As it turned out, they had been more than okay. Within the hour, it was apparent that Charlie had dubbed Alex his best friend for the day. He had insisted on sitting next to the teen at dinner, and when they’d made gingerbread houses that afternoon, Alex was the only one allowed to help him.

Neither Steve nor Danny could figure out exactly how that had happened, so later that evening, as they were settling in to watch a movie, Danny had asked.

“You seem to be pretty good friends with Alex already, huh, buddy?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes. He needed a friend.”

Danny smiled. “You think so?”

Charlie nodded again, his face completely serious. “Yes. So I thought I could be his friend.”

Steve chuckled. “I think you made a good choice, buddy -- a very good choice.”

Charlie nodded a third time. “I think so too.”

As soon as Alex had come back from the bathroom and sat down, Charlie had plopped down in his lap as the opening credits of How the Grinch Stole Christmas rolled. It wasn’t a long movie, but by the end, Steve could tell Alex was starting to drift so they hadn’t stayed long after Charlie was put to bed.

As soon as they’d gotten home, Alex had headed to bed as well; his arm had started to bother him again though he’d been fine most of the day, so Steve had quickly checked it, rewrapped it, and had given him ibuprofen before he crashed.

It had been a good day, and Steve hoped it would be another good night as well. . . .

Alex woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the blinds, feeling surprisingly well-rested. He had startled awake around three o’clock but had obviously managed to fall back asleep. Frowning, he stared up at the ceiling for several moments before rolling out of bed. He hadn’t slept this well since before his uncle’s death; why was it suddenly so easy now?

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found Commander McGarrett sitting at the dining table, sipping at a cup of coffee with his work tablet in front of him. If he was working, Alex didn’t want to interrupt, but he also knew he would feel awkward rooting around in the man’s kitchen to find something to eat; he didn’t live here, after all. Debating his next move, he stood there, one hand still on the railing, for who knew how long before the commander looked up and saw him.

“Morning, Alex. Sleep alright?”

Finding his feet again, he moved towards the table. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not. Besides, it’s paperwork; you can interrupt that any time you want, and I will thank you for it.” McGarrett stood up. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

“No, no!” Alex was quick to protest, holding his hands up in front of him. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what? Feed you? Because I’m gonna have to disagree with you there.”

“No -- just -- I can do it myself. You don’t have to get up.”

McGarrett took a sip from his mug before speaking again. “Is that why you were standing there for a solid minute not moving? Because you didn’t want to bother me?”

Dang it. He’d been made from the start. But the commander had been nothing short of hospitable -- more than, honestly -- up until this point, and Alex didn’t want to put him to extra work. “There’s still pizza in the fridge, right? I’ll just eat that.”

The commander raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to eat pizza for breakfast? You’d really prefer that to -- I don’t know -- scrambled eggs?”

Alex had to admit that sounded good, but… “I mean, it has Canadian bacon on it -- that’s technically a breakfast food.”

McGarrett snorted, sitting back down in his chair. “Alright, have it your way. I’ll just go back to my exceptionally boring paperwork.”

Sighing in relief, Alex stepped around the corner into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of slices from the fridge and dropped them on a plate, then returned to the table and sat across from McGarrett. “So, when do you suppose CPS is going to show up?” he asked, taking a bite from the first slice.

“Hm?” McGarrett glanced up, pausing in his typing. “Oh, the lady was already here -- eight o’clock on the dot, as a matter of fact.”

Alex’s brain stuttered. “Then why am I still here? I thought…”

The commander folded the screen over the attached keyboard, giving Alex his full attention. “You thought you were gonna be shuffled off to another foster home?”

“I assumed -- I mean --.” Alex cut himself off as the realization hit him. He was staying here?

“I’m petitioning for your custody. It didn’t work in California to be shuffled around, so why would it work any better out here? At least, that was my reasoning. You need to be someplace where you’ll have time to settle and, Alex, I won’t lie: that can take months -- especially given what you’ve been through. And if no one is willing to give you longer than a week, then you’ll just end up right back where you started. I can’t promise I’ll even be a good guardian, but if there’s one thing I can give you, it’s time.”

He sighed. “Look, I’m not going to force you to stay with me if you don’t want to, but you should know that if you choose to leave, I’ll still be here for you, okay? You can always come to me if you need something or if you have a problem. I told you I wasn’t going to leave you on your own, and I meant it. Okay?”

Alex steeled himself, heart in his throat, to ask the question he was most afraid to hear the answer to. “What about Agent Branning? He could contest this, couldn’t he?”

McGarrett nodded. “Yeah, he could, but I don’t think he will. Even if he does fight it, I’ll fight back twice as hard, and I’ll keep fighting until it happens.”

Alex let out a shuddering breath. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. “Don’t you have to be, like, certified to foster though?”

“Also yes, but you let me worry about that, alright? You don’t need to worry about a thing; just leave it all to me.”

Alex swallowed harshly. He was not going to start crying again, dang it. But there was one last thing he had to know. “Why are you doing this? It’s just… it’s a lot, and you barely know me.”

“Honestly? It was the best way I could think of to get you out. I told you it’s time to burn some ships of your own, right? The idea behind that phrase is to move forward with no chance of going back to where you were. So if you don’t want to be a part of that work any longer, then I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t feel like you have to be.”

Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Okay.” His voice was shaky, but he was holding back the tears so he considered that an accomplishment, at least. What had he done to deserve this kindness? Absolutely nothing. He had lied and broken his promises and run away. Yet Commander McGarrett was giving of himself so freely anyway.

After a pause, McGarrett asked, “So, I take it this arrangement is good, then? You’re good? We’re good?”

Alex smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good.” He flipped the tablet screen back up again. “Eat your very strange breakfast, then we’ll talk more, alright?”

In response, Alex picked his slice back up and took a bite out of it, feeling like maybe he would finally be able to rest for the first time since his uncle’s death.

Maybe there was hope for the future after all.

. . . . .

Tag List: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @ghostly-homo @grungeweasel @just-add-butter

[squadron-leader-farrier]

so, hello there, my guys! as per usual, i am here writing this at 1am on an exam night, but i can’t help it now, can i? i really wanted to write some softness for the boys after that god awfully painful thing i wrote last time, so here it is

note that this is merely a draft, not a final work, this is going to be part of my fic on ao3, which i should update soon so there’s like not much thought to any accuracy per say. for fucks sake its 1am i am not in the mood for research, i just wanna write some happiness in their angsty lives, so here you go:

{i’m actually too tired to proof read this so please excuse any grammatical/spelling mistakes}

cherry wine

it was a lazy saturday evening at the house. they were so engrossed in doing their own thing, they didn’t even notice that the radio had started playing static.

Collins was learning a new tune on the piano from the new book of sheet music that Farrier had given him as a spontaneous gift. he himself was lounging on the sofa, engrossed in the book, listening to the tune being played. occasionally he would look up at him and smile. 

most of the days they’d just talk about nothing, but now with the new books and everything, it was easier to spend time in each other’s presence, and not talking, because it did get pretty exhausting at times. now, they could just bask in each other’s presence and do their thing. nothing to worry about, nothing to stress about. 

it almost felt unreal. as if the peace would be interrupted any minute by sirens and shouting. 

it didn’t. and it wouldn’t. not for a very, very long time. 

Collins eventually for bored and stopped playing, realized that the radio was on and playing static, so he went to turn it off.

“ah, bugger. i was wondering where the noise was coming from” he said. Farrier looked up from his book, and eyed Collins, who was now headed for the wine cabinet. he saw him looking 

“care for some?” he asked

“sure” he replied and sat up straight. read some more, as Collins got the glasses ready and picked out his favourite bottle. 

“oooh, good stuff. i forgot we had this” he said holding out a bottle, looking at the old worn label. “you gave it to me the first time we met” he said, smiling at the fond memory. 

“yeah, i remember. cost a bit, but it was worth it” he winked, which made the blond all flustered. 

“what a flirt” he giggled, as he popped out the cork and nodded his head. he poured it in the glass, watching as the rich, red liquid swirled around in the glass walls viciously. 

“hmmm... smells good. very wine-y” he said in mock thoughtfulness, as he pretended to be a wine connoisseur, which earned him a fond smile and a soft chuckle, 

he handed the glass to him, as he proceeded to snuggle up next to him. 

“we should make a toast” 

“hmmm. let me think”

after a moment

“to burning spitfires”

“to burning spitfires”

they laughed, as they clinked their glasses together. Farrier had the book open on his lap, upside down, to mark the page he was reading. Collins saw that and remarked “ever use a bookmark, will ye?”

“no, cause i like seeing you get all cut up over it. it’s adorable”

“but you’re ruining the spine!” he said in despair, as he picked up the book, and snuggled closer to his boyfriend.

“the assorted works of William Shakespeare” he read the title out loud, which was printed in gold on the leather cover. 

“give the lad a break, would ya?” he said sarcastically. 

“well, he shouldn’t have written such good sonnets then” 

“that’s fair, i guess. i do love the poems you write for me” Collins said, which made the brunette smile. whether the warm feeling inside him was because of the wine or Collins, he could not tell, maybe a heavenly combination of both. 

it would usually take a tremendous amount of effort to get so much as a smile on the man’s face at work, but Collins had to just barely even smile, and he would turn to mush. it must be love he thought. 

“anything for you, darlin’“ he replied.

Collins had started reading a passage out loud, while snuggled closer, with a strong arm around his shoulders, playing with his shirt sleeve. 

listening to him read, was almost hypnotic, even as he comically over-exaggerated his “acting”. the way he held the book in one hand, the almost-empty glass in the other. how soft his hair felt against his neck, as he made himself more and more comfortable. just being his usual adorable self. perhaps “kitten” was the most perfect nickname for him than he’d ever imagined.

he finally finished the speech, downed the rest of the wine and asked 

“how’d i do?”

“wonderful, my love. absolutely splendid” 

“will i win any prizes?”

“well, if you’re considering joining theatre, then yes, of course”

“hmm... kiss me then” he said, shifting to face him. More than happy to oblige, Farrier leaned closer, till their lips touched, closing the little space between them. His lips tasted like the sweet cherry wine the had been drinking, the feeling inside, felt like burning embers. 

he broke away, too soon, to keep his glass on the table and Collins followed suit, before he was immediately pulled in again. he carelessly tossed the book behind him on the sofa, freeing both his hands to put his arms around his neck, and run a hand through his hair. 

Farrier cradled his face in his hand, grazing a thumb over the apple of his cheek, ever so lightly, ever so careful because he looked as delicate as a dragonfly’s wing. the other hand brushing the side of his head, feeling the soft downy hair. it trailed to the nape of his neck, and pulled him closer. 

he could feel Collins’ lips curl into a smile against his. 

it was sweet and ardent. made him feel a little warm, just like the wine. Farrier actually realized how close he was to the love of his life, as a soft sound escaped his mouth, as they breathed together, catching each others’ breath. 

it was exhilarating, yet calming  it felt like he was floating six feet above the ground, yet it was so grounding.

they pulled away, finally, foreheads touching, making eye contact for a brief moment. He noticed that Collins’ beautiful baby blue eyes were glassy, his face was flushed pink all over, like roses bloomed. he blinked and looked down, suddenly very shy. His eyelashes settling ever so gently on his skin. they were like violin strings that would play sweet melodies of love in heaven. 

He studied everything about the blond. the tiny freckles that dotted his face like constellations, his eyes, that were like the ocean, and his cheeks which bloomed like roses. what a beautiful angel he had in front of him, he thanked god for whatever he had done to deserve this. 

he lightly brushed a thumb over his lips, which transformed into a smile. they were pink and swollen from what they’d endured, but oh, so beautiful and soft. he wanted to kiss them again, to feel that feeling of pure bliss again, and so  he did. 

this one was short, but he savored every moment of it. 

he knew he was in love, 

because he was loved back.

he knew it was love, 

when not only did he not stop him, 

he kissed back.

[tobiandjane]

name: ryn april wilbury

age: 17

gender: female

appearance: very symmetrical face. big(ish) lips.long, blonde, curly hair. three piercings on each of her ears. always wearing jewelry & nice clothes. relatively thin. (she’s not nearly as complex as tobias, huh?)

background: ryn wilbury has always been one to strive to be her very very best. some teenagers try in school, and then there’s ryn wilbury, who pushes herself until she’s gone mental. she has never made much time for friends, but she managed to take ahold of a girl named courtland, who understands her obsessiveness with school. although, she’s not the same way. ryn’s school drive comes from a few different aspects: the pressure from her parents, the influence from her school, and the fact that she’s worked to hard to quit now. ryn has everything pretty well off, at least that how it seems on the outside. it seems that way to ryn for a while, too, until tobias points out some life-altering revelations and ryn’s world changes forever.

relationships: courtland (her best friend), elowen (her little sister), tobias (her eventual partner), her parents

sexuality: straight

positive personality traits: organized, sophisticated, hard-working, dedicated, scholarly, welcoming to people she respects. CAN BE, very compassionate and sentimental.

negative personality traits: comes off as aggressive/passive-aggressive, just straight up bitchy sometimes, 

notable characteristics: has beautiful cursive handwriting (taught by her grandma), does community service as much as she can, loves animals (she wants to major in animal science at cornell), only listens to classical music (this is important believe it or not).

excerpt 1: 

Three months. 91 days. 2,184 hours. 131,040 minutes. 7,862,400 seconds of excessive and rigorous training. Ryn Wilbury had devoted every second of her summer to her studies. She didn’t count herself as a nerdy,  goodie-two-shoes, that was too cliche. She counted herself as a young woman dedicated to her academics. She believed didn’t have time to engage in the entire ‘high school experience.’ Her parents believed the same. School was about academics, not parties or alcohol or boyfriends or breaking rules.

Pride was just about everything that Ryn accounted herself for. If things didn’t stack up in a pleasing manner, there was no point in doing it at all. So, every second of her ‘summer vacation’ was put towards strenuous learning and digesting of her mind. No, she did not have a stick up her ass, she had the entire equation of pi, Newton’s Law, Pythagoreans Theorem, quantum physics, and then some.

As the trees and hills panned out beside the asphalt highway, as the blue sky enveloped the white tufts of clouds, and as the road disappeared beneath her tires, all Ryn could think about were the accomplishments she’d made during her diminishing summer vacation. She had completed the wildlife internship she dreamt of.

For 31 days, she was living on her own, in a small college dorm, tucked between the chaos of a large city. Although the city was constantly bustling, Ryn kept herself on campus. Getting distracted from her studies was never on the agenda, and she didn’t let it squeeze it’s way on there either. Some would call that uptight and some would tell her to explore the city, ‘live a little’ (Ryn’s least favorite quote). But Ryn was dedicated. So dedicated, she wouldn’t let anything ruin her plans. However, there was one thing that Ryn would put before her studies, Elowen. Although studies are important, family comes first, and she wouldn’t let her sister slip through her fingers.

excerpt 2:

“Hey, Ms. Wilbury, could I talk to you in my office,” Principal Shaw asked, before quickly following up with, “I’ll give you a note for your class.”

Ryn smiled, that million dollar smile of perfectly straight and whitened teeth, before following principal Shaw into his office.

Ryn had been in his office a few times, but for all the right reasons. Most of the time it was to receive a reward or talk about a presentation she’d be giving. Ryn had given three presentations about community service since enrolling in Silver Oak, she figured this would be about the fourth and final one she’d give..

Once inside the office, Ryn sat down on one of the chairs placed in front of Mr. Shaw’s desk.

“So,” Mr. Shaw folded his hands on his desk, leaning forward on his elbows, “Tobias Williams.”

Ryn’s spine went rigid and she felt her nose beginning to scrunch, she rubbed it in a means of subduing the expression, “Yes, Mr. Williams. I was out all night looking for some extra studying materials, and I bought some of my favorite fountain pens-”

“Well, I see you’re prepared for this, as usual.” Mr. Shaw said this with a grin and met Ryn’s gaze.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tutor Tobias, she loved tutoring and watching those she mentored grow in their intellectual abilities. It was fulfilling, a satisfaction which was hard to find other places. She was far more hesitant about the Tobias part, she was not looking forward to that.

Ryn forced a smile on her lips and tucked the loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears, “Well you can never have too many service hours.”

Mr. Shaw laughed lightly and leaned back into his chair. Ryn subconsciously began to grind her teeth, tapping a manicured nail against her leg and smiling along with him.

“I suspect you’ll get a good five hours per week, and if you continue throughout the year, you’ll have plenty for college impressions.”

He was right, she just had to keep her eyes on the prize. Cornell University, that was the prize, and a good one at that. Ryn could push through tutoring a delinquent if it meant a better chance at being noticed by Cornell.

(tobi westport, misaligned stars 2019)

tag list: @tenacious-scripturient @fantasy-studiies @novicewriterstuff @ren-c-leyn @writernour @vviciously

leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

[valenciaflores]

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Valencia Grace Flores

Nickname: Val

Birthday: April 8th

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: Barking & Dagenham, London, UK

Places Lived Since: Leeds, UK

Current Residence: Kings Cross, Islington, London, UK

Nationality: British

Parents: Jessica Flores (née Miller) & Miguel Flores (deceased)

Grandparents: Howard Miller & Alice Miller (née Williams); Antonio Flores & Ximena Flores (née Pérez) (both deceased)

Aunts & Uncles: Ricardo Flores (deceased); Sarah Walsh (non-biological, godmother)

Number of Siblings: One - Victor Flores

Relationship With Family: Val grew up in very close proximity to her mother, grandparents, and brother, and as a result was very close to them - and thus they all got on each other’s nerves very quickly. She appreciated everything they did to raise her and her brother despite their debts and money issues over the years. She’d done what she can to try to repay them, offering to help her mother pay for a new apartment or just give them some money, but they accept nothing. All their willing to let her do is pay for a nice meal at their favorite restaurant that used to be a splurge but to Val now isn’t that bad. As a PA she doesn’t make an exorbitant amount of money by any means, but she saved a great deal during her year working for a high-end PR firm and she splits a one bedroom apartment rent with her girlfriend so she’s spending even less on rent and housing now.

Happiest Memory: A recital where she was rewarded a certificate for her excellence in dance within her age group (she was young enough to be blissfully unaware every child received the certificate).

Childhood Trauma: Val was only a couple years old when her father died so she barely remembers it but sees everyday how it affects her brother, mother, and even grandparents who loved her father so much. Miguel and Jessica worked for almost ten years to save up enough money to fly Miguel’s brother and parents out to London to live there. It took some time for his family to get their immigration figured out, but once Victor was born and then Jessica became pregnant a couple years later with Val, it was settled - the Flores’ would move to London to be with their grandchildren. Miguel and Jessica both worked overtime, they skipped vacations, they got married by a clerk, and they stayed in a cheap apartment to save up money for flights, moving costs, and to help pay a few months rent for an apartment. All they wanted was for their family to be together, and it finally was about to happen when Miguel left for Mexico to help his family pack up their things. They sent all their possessions ahead of them, spent a night at a hotel, and departed the next morning on a plane that never made it back to London. Ricardo was the only one to survive, but not for more than a few days and the cost of all the medical procedures to try to save his life wiped out the rest of Jessica’s savings. She and her parents were plunged into debt trying to save Ricardo and get Miguel’s body back to London, and they could not get any money back spent on apartments and various other expenses to help the Flores’ move. After that, Jessica moved with her children to her parents’ home. Not that she could ever afford it, but she refused to get on a plane ever again and stays up all night worrying and praying whenever Val goes on a trip. Victor was so terrified of flying after what happened to his father that it ruined his football career because he refused to agree to the need to take flights to different games. 

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5′8″

Weight: 123 lbs

Build: Slim, athletic; frequently underweight

Hair Color: Brown

Usual Hair Style: Up in a high, tight ponytail or bun

Eye Color: Brown

Glasses? Contacts?: N/A

Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): Val is a big fan of skirts and dresses and usually tries to wear them year-round, pairing them with appropriate sweaters, jackets, and tights when necessary. If she does wear pants or jumpsuits in a situation where skinny jeans aren’t acceptable, they’re usually fairly loose through the legs. Her outfits tend to be made of solid colors with the occasional patterned skirt, belt, scarf, or other accessory. She finds solid colors lend more to flexibility. Pink, blue, white and maroon tend to show up in her closet the most, as she finds those colors most complimentary. More often than not she can be found in business or business casual attire, even on “days off,” and always carrying a bag big enough to hold some beauty essentials, a spare leotard and shorts, and canvas lyrical shoes.

Typical Style of Shoes: Heels are a must and unless she’s running errands or knows she’ll be standing for a very long time, she tends not to wear sneakers or flats that much. 

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: Val’s jewelry is very basic, with two piercings per earlobe. Her girlfriend continuously tries to convince her to get another piercing but she refuses because she thinks they can look trashy (not on Spirit, thought, of course). Her jewelry is all gold (or gold-plated) and very minimalist. If she wears a bracelet, it’s no more than 1-2 bangles. A necklace is rarely more than a thin chain with an unassuming little charm. Her only ring is a thin gold band on her right ring finger with her father’s initials and birth and death dates carved into it that her mother gave her. She has one tattoo on the top of her outer left thigh that matches one her brother has on the middle of his back. It’s a creative take, personal to them both, on the national coat of arms for Mexico, her father’s home country. 

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: She tends to stick her chin and nose up a bit, quite literally, when she’s annoyed or revolted.

Athleticism: Very athletic and graceful, which she always channeled into dance. Outside of dance, she often practiced with her brother and got pretty good at football, too. 

Health Problems/Illnesses: None.

INTELLECT:

Level of Education: A bachelor’s degree. 

Languages Spoken: English (fluently, mother tongue); Italian (nearly fluent); Spanish (broken, only some key phrases)

Level of Self-Esteem: Fairly high. Self-esteem has never been an issue for Val, and some might even say she’s a little too confident sometimes.

Gifts/Talents: A natural inclination for dance that even a severe injury couldn’t quell. She also is very talented when it comes to writing and speaking publicly, but that was mostly through practice and an avid interest in the subjects. 

Mathematical?: Somewhat. She’s very good with statistics.

Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Emotions more than she cares to admit, but usually she’ll make adjustments to decisions after some logical processing. 

Life Philosophy: Stand up for yourself and your people.

Religious Stance: Not very religious at all. 

Cautious or Daring?: She’ll claim cautious, but there are times when the things she says prove she’s actually fairly daring. 

Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: Her destroyed dance career, people making negative comments about those less fortunate than them, and people who underestimate her. 

Optimist or Pessimist?: An idealistic pessimist on the side of the optimists.

Extrovert or Introvert?: Extroverted. She’ll talk to anyone, either to tell them off or tell them how lovely they look. 

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Living with partner (Spirit Leafstorm)

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Past Relationships:

Baxter Watson - ex-boyfriend/formerly lived together. The two started dating about a year before she went to university, and made the dumb decision to move in together when she got into Leeds. The two fought frequently over petty things and eventually broke up in the middle of her second year at university. The two came together through activist work, but Val grew disenchanted with the man when she realized he was far better at just complaining about the state of things than actually doing anything to help. Since their break-up, she’s heard he’s barely changed his ways and currently lives with his parents. 

Maya Foster - ex-girlfriend/former professor. When Baxter left, it was the first time Val had been single in a while, and she certainly didn’t hold back from taking advantage of it as much as possible. It was a funny coincidence that she ran into an attractive, younger professor on a night out, but it quickly lost its humor when the single hook-up turned into nightly meetings and then an actual relationship. Discretion and secrecy were key, both from the university because Maya had been Val’s professor and from Val’s family, not because she was a woman but because she was ten years older than Val. For a while, they were good. Then they hit the year mark, celebrated it, and things started to turn for the worse. Maya suddenly had a lot of “meetings” and Val found herself falling asleep alone more often than not. She tried not to be jealous or skeptical, but everyone has their breaking point, and she eventually confronted Maya about her increasing absence - not just when she was physically away, but even mentally when she was home. Maya claimed she was just overworked, Val wanted to believe her. A couple weeks later she got a call from a close friend who knew about the relationship. She said she’d been visiting family a couple towns over and saw Maya out to dinner with another woman - young and brunette. The break-up was really nasty, and it still left Val with a bad taste in her mouth to think about it in the months following because she realized how naive she’d been to believe she was an equal partner in a relationship that had actually been dominated by Maya.

James Morris - ex-boyfriend. One of the worst things to do at a new job is to start dating someone, but James was one of the few people at Val’s first job at a PR firm that she actually enjoyed talking to everyday. James was only about a year older than her, the smallest age gap she’d ever had in a relationship, and the two were relative equal on the career playing field. James was more involved with the art, Val with the copyediting, and the two made a good team. He wasn’t from as poor of a background as Val, but he wasn’t nearly as rich and snobby as many of the other workers at the boutique firm who’d gotten placements through “family friends.” It was always Val and James who were the ones working late, and it often led to late-night takeaway orders and shared cabs to their nearby apartments. They kept things friendly, though it was obvious there was some attraction. Maybe both had a feeling that if they acted on it, it’d get serious, and they were too busy with work to have that kind of commitment. Both were enjoying being single too much to stop it. When Val decided that commercial PR wasn’t for her, James supported the decision and was the first at the firm to congratulate her when he found out she was leaving. They went out for a celebratory dinner...then had celebratory sex. The pieces fell into place rather well, better than they’d expected. Off-the-bat Val worked late hours at work to prove she was worthy of her position, and with the hope that she could make some bit of a difference to the community. James worked late hours, too, when he was promoted and took on more creative responsibilities that often left him coming home with graphite stained hands. They were happy, they traveled, they supported each other’s careers, and they were able to maintain their independence in a way that Val hadn’t ever experienced in a relationship before. It was amazing to her. After a few years, they considered moving in. It was her mother who was the first to ask if that meant they might get engaged soon, then her grandparents, then James’s brother, then his parents, and the little seeds of hope their families tried to plant did nothing but give them cold feet. They spent most of their savings on travel a couple times a year - they couldn’t afford a ring, or a wedding, or anything like that. They spent so much time together at each other’s places that they thought they knew what moving in together would be like, but maybe they didn’t - maybe it would change things and make an already committed relationship more serious than either were ready for financially or emotionally. They had a long talk and split amicably face to face, but the fallout personally was worse than Val had ever experienced. Her mother even came to stay with her for a few days, and she took a week away from her dance troupe. She and James decided to sever all contact because it might be easier, but it was even more painful to hear from someone else that James moved to America a few months later.

Spirit Leafstorm - a separate post will come, but her relationship with Spirit ended a little under a year after her relationship with James ended. 

Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: Usually she did the breaking up with other people, but with James it was because they both got a little scared and felt they were too young for what others were trying to push on them.

Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: They cheated.

Ever Cheated?: When Val is in a relationship, she is whole-heartedly dedicated to that person and would never even imagine cheating. Even when “dating around” she would never go on dates with multiple people in even the same month. However, during times of complete single-ness (or even during the “dating around” periods if it was this one particular person), she tended to be drawn to forbidden fruit. This included not only employers, professors, and friends exes, but married men and women. She’s not proud of it, but there’s a reason it’s called a guilty pleasure.

Been Cheated On: Yes, by Maya.

Level of Sexual Experience: Very. She’s body-positive, sex-positive, try-new-things-positive. When in relationships she tends to explore new things even more, but even outside of relationships she’s gotten pretty adventurous with hook-ups. 

Story of First Kiss: Hardly all that special. She played a kissing game with some friends when she was thirteen and ended up kissing her best friend’s crush. The two girls have, thankfully, gotten over it since. 

Story of Loss of Virginity:

A Social Person?: Yes, though sometimes that means she won’t be afraid to get up in someone’s face if they rub her the wrong way.

Most Comfortable Around: Her family, her girlfriend, and anyone she considers a good friend.

Oldest Friend: Her brother, Victor. He’s her best, oldest, most headache-inducing friend and she wouldn’t trade him for the world. 

How Does She Think Others Perceive Her?: She believes others see her as a strong-willed, independent person who strives for their goals.

How Do Others Actually Perceive Her?: People certainly believe she strives for her goals, just perhaps with a bit too much sharpness toward those around her sometimes. A softer tone now and then wouldn’t hurt to make her more endearing to the people whose support she may one day need.

SECRETS:

Life Goals: Maybe to be an MP one day, but that will likely be more of a post-children goal for much farther in the future. Ideally, she’ll one day be the Press Secretary for the Prime Minister, and she’ll go down in history books as eloquent, tactful, and a new standard for her successors. 

Dreams: For Val, dreams and life goals are very intertwined and are essentially the same. Why dream of something that can’t really be achieved?

Greatest Fears: Losing her job, losing anyone else in her family, and watching her brother potentially become a bum if he doesn’t get his act together a little more (he’s actually a teacher and a coach, but she just wishes he’d do even more).

Most Ashamed Of: Some harsher comments she’s made in the past to supervisors or other people she knows are more worthy of her respect. Sometimes her need to define herself as a smart, strong person can actually be relayed in a rather brusque, rude tone, and she’s slowly working on calming that down.

Secret Hobbies: Not very secret at all, but all time not spent at the office is spent dancing.

Crimes Committed (Was she caught? Charged?): N/A

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

Night Owl or Early Bird?: Early Bird

Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Light Sleeper

Favorite Animal: Cats of all kind

Favorite Foods: Veggies and fruits

Least Favorite Food: Anything greasy or fried

Favorite Book: “Just Ella” by Margaret Peterson Haddix

Least Favorite Book: Every single gothic novel she ever had to read for school

Favorite Movie: Black Swan

Least Favorite Movie: Every “Step Up” movie

Favorite Song:  “Dancing Queen” by ABBA

Favorite Sport: Football

Coffee or Tea?: Tea, preferably green or ginger

Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: Smooth, but it’s fattening so she doesn’t have it often

Type of Car She Drives: N/A, no car

Lefty or Righty?: Righty

Favorite Color: Deep red

Cusser?: Occasionally.

Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: Never smokes, barely drinks, not a drug user.

Biggest Regret: Spending a year at a PR firm that she could’ve spent working with her current colleagues

Pets: None

[dust2dust34]

hi! i dont know if i can ask for two, but could you do the prompts number 25 & 3 ? Or one of them?

(Olicity, S6)

“Do not. Tempt. Me.”

“Or what?” Felicity asked. She scrunched her nose at her husband. “What’re you going to do, Oliver?”

He narrowed his eyes at her teasing. The muscles in his jaw visibly clenched as he gritted his teeth, clearly trying not to move. 

Felicity dipped her finger in the thick brownie batter and smeared another gob of it all over his cheek. 

Oliver growled and tried to grab her, but she darted away with a giggle, running out of the kitchen. He’d been in such a foul mood earlier, and she got it, she really did. Everything that could possibly go wrong in their world was going wrong, and it always had a way of piling up around them. But at least this - their being together, having each other - was something none of that could touch. 

And she really, really needed to remind him of that.

If that meant playing with brownie batter? Then so be it. Especially because he wasn’t enjoying baking as much as he usually did, because the brownies were for a bake-off fundraiser thing that his assistant had signed him up for without telling him until the last minute, a fundraiser that Felicity had made a face at having to go to.

He was cranky and he needed cheering up.

Besides, he had more than enough batter to make a proper batch, so she wasn’t ruining anything, per se.

Oliver followed her out into the living room. “Felicity, I’m serious...”

“So am I,” she replied, sucking her finger into her mouth. His eyes dropped to where she had her lips wrapped around her finger. His face darkened with lust, and she took that as a win. Felicity released her finger with a pop. “What are you going to...”

It took her a second too long to realize he was still holding the bowl of brownie batter, and she was in no way, shape or form ready for how fast he was when he dipped his hand into it and hurled some of it right at her.

The batter landed on her chest with a thick splat.

Felicity’s jaw dropped. “How dare you?!” she shouted, even as she laughed. Oliver’s laughter joined hers as she turned to look at him, but before she could say anything else, he threw more at her. Felicity shrieked, spinning to avoid it, but his aim was perfect, as always, and another thick gob of batter landed on her side. “Oliver!”

“Guys, what’s going on...?” William asked, poking his head out of his room.

Oliver didn’t skip a beat, spinning and hurling a smaller lob of brownie at his son. It hit William square in the middle of his face. Shocked incredulity colored his face before he smiled.

And that’s how a food fight started in the Queen-Smoak-Clayton Household.

(send me a fluffy prompt)